Mrs Mariano: Part 1

by L Neil

  Now, I can see where all her time has gone. With that stray phone call to her ex boyfriend’s mother in the UK, I had half a mind to have her followed more closely. So badly, I wanted to ensure that she wasn’t meeting with anyone in secret while I was away, helping to secure our friend in the basement. But there was no need to worry. She was right here, creating.

  My eyes return to the propeller and I realise that she has made me want to weep yet again. How on earth do I show her how much I appreciate this? I find myself dumbfounded.

  I look to her and her eyebrows are knit together in worry, her breaths shallow and the wine no longer in her hand.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers, her saturnine eyes lowering.

  “No, no. Baby, you misunderstand.” She thinks I don’t like it!

  I pull her up by her shaking hands and steady her on her feet. Eyes boring into hers I tell her, “This is beyond anything I could have hoped for. I am... speechless. I am so proud.”

  And I have never loved another human being so goddamned much – my heart may just explode.

  Her face softens again as she trusts my words.

  I ask, “You truly did this?”

  “Well, no,” she says quietly, “I pretty much just choose everything. Tony Rizzo’s guys did all the hard work.”

  “And you’re humble too,” I smile as I lean down to kiss her forehead. She is warm from the wine and the dancing and I am ready to test the durability of the dining table now.

  But she is excited to show me the bedroom and the conjoining bathroom.

  As there is only one of each, they are large in size, giving her plenty of room to work with. And boy, did she make something unique and spectacular out of it.

  The uneven plaster on the bedroom walls remain untouched, maintaining an authentic atmosphere. But the large windows have been painted to match the others and dark floorboards have been laid out to add some newness to the room.

  There is as cluster of large, vintage-styled light bulbs forming a brilliant chandelier above the California king-sized bed and the room could fit at least another five of these beds. Instead, an enormous royal blue shagpile rug takes up a lot of the space and an antique wardrobe occupies the opposite wall.

  The door to the bathroom is lacquered obsidian. The large bathroom window takes up the entire length of the wall and is adorned with thick, black curtains that have been pulled aside just enough to see the night-time view of the district. The walls here have been painted in the same dark colour, the panels much like those in my own bedroom.

  The largest claw foot tub I have ever laid eyes on is in the centre of the wooden floor, white - contrasting highly against the otherwise dark room. The black vanity is antique, with two pale sinks. I look at my reflection in the mirror above it and I see the wonderment on my face.

  I follow her back to the bedroom and make a move to sit upon the end of the bed. But she leaves the room, expecting me to follow, to leave behind this massive bed and all its possibilities.

  She must know that she is teasing me...

  Like a love-struck schoolboy, I follow her to the centre of the living area, where we had started.

  My bossy wife instructs me to sit and I do, without a second thought, occupying the single leather seat. I watch as she steps up to the kitchen and pours me a glass of whisky, her red nails shining in the warm light, the top of her hair bright like a halo.

  “Stop,” I manage to say, and she pauses just before she steps down to return to me.

  “Take off your dress,” I command in a low voice.

  Power has always been exhilarating to me. Adding my desire for her into the mix is absolutely thrilling. My body has become this great, throbbing need.

  She places the drink upon the counter and then begins to slide her dress up, over her shoulders. As she stretches her arms above her, the black lacy panties and matching bra are revealed to me, fitting perfectly snug on her lithe body.

  The curve of her legs, of her stomach looks edible. Despite her want for a supermodel body, I find pleasure in her tender flesh, the subtle roundness that has formed onto her usually thin and taut body.

  My mouth waters as she frees herself completely from her dress. Her hair bounces, returning down her back and her round breasts look about ready to burst from her bra – also rounder from the slight weight gain.

  She exchanges the dress for the glass of whisky and tilts one side of her lips at me in a seductive smile.

  “Come,” I rasp.

  She obeys.

  But when I tell her to sit on my lap, she shakes her head. Cheeky temptress.

  She kneels before me and takes me in her mouth for the second time

  .

  ✽✽✽

  CHAPTER 14

  Secrets

  “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?” Frank purrs.

  He is seated at the dining table, sipping his hot cup of coffee, dressed in tan chino pants and a forest green, cable-knit sweater.

  I had chosen to wear a black, long-sleeved turtleneck to match the black tights underneath my green tartan mini-skirt.

  We awoke late this morning, having kept each other up for most of the night. Now, Jazz plays on the stereo and we take our time getting ready for the day.

  The apartment is bright and airy in the fresh morning.

  “Wine, whisky, towels, clothes, coffee...” he trails off and rubs my ass cheek softly as I pass him with my own cup of coffee. When I sit at the chair beside him, he reaches his free hand out for me to hold.

  “A piano,” he states out of nowhere before taking another sip.

  I look at him, puzzled.

  He motions our hands toward the empty space before the largest window in the middle of the wall.

  Ah yes, I remember. Last night, I had told him that I didn’t have a clue what to put there.

  The sun shines in now, subdued with the promise of the coming winter. It’s beautiful. And yes, a piano would be perfect. I tell him as much.

  “Leo you should see this apartment,” Frank brags later in the day.

  Leo and I are playing chess in the billiard room, sitting on the sofas opposite to each other.

  My husband is smoking a cigar by the window, gazing out over the landscaped gardens.

  The day is cool and overcast and the three of us don’t seem to have any plans today.

  We had lunch together in the dining room earlier. Vic had prepared a delicious tomato and baked ricotta pasta freddo. I think we filled up too quickly and topping the meal with wine has made us lazy and slouchy.

  “Yeah, I’ve heard all about it.” Leo says as he replaces my knight with one of his bishops. I am failing miserably at this game. “Tony said your gal has an eye for that kinda thing.”

  I try not to blush and return my focus to the board.

  “That she does, my friend,” Frank replies, seemingly lost in thought.

  I move my queen to take Leo’s bishop and he says, “She’s a terrible chess player though.” He takes my queen with his own. “Check mate.”

  Damn it!

  “You just need more patience,” he tells me.

  A knock on the door alerts Leo but my always-cool husband doesn’t budge in the slightest. His capricious gaze hasn’t left the view out the window.

  That doesn’t last long, however, as Max appears and says, “Boss, we got a problem.”

  Frank looks to Max, peepers gleaming mean and lips pressed together in a tight line. But then the emotion disappears just as suddenly as it came, and his eyes drop slightly - it's that thing that people do when they realise that they need to hide their reaction from someone. I get the feeling that someone is me.

  Max does the same and now Leo gives me one of his blank faces.

  Well, that confirms that.

  “Please excuse us, baby.” Frank kisses me on the head as he passes, “Stay here. We’ll be back soon.”

  Leo follows Frank and Max, closing the doors behind him and leaving me alone with th
e faint smell of cigar and the sound of the ticking clock.

  I can’t help but wonder what the hell is going on.

  Stay here? Pfft.

  Realising they must still be in the house; I give them a two-minute head start before I start to wander the halls.

  It doesn’t take long before I hear the hushed voices of the guards around the corner and down the hall. Pausing where I am, I decide to wait and listen. But they must have stopped talking because it’s dead silent now.

  While I wait, I notice for the first time just how clean the white, shining tiles are. The contrast against my black clothing is startling. They are so pale and clean that I can sort of see my reflection, almost as if peering into a mirror.

  Their hushed voices are back again, and I strain to hear. Annoyingly, I am unable to make out the words.

  Suddenly, a strangled cry breaks through the quiet hum. I can’t not see what the commotion is about now.

  As I round the corner, the screaming is cut off abruptly and Frank emerges from a door, closing it behind him.

  Everyone turns at my presence and we are all suspended in time while the situation sinks in.

  Frank moves to run his hand over his face but stops himself, remembering the blood on it. I suppose he isn’t too keen to add any more to his already stained face.

  It makes sense that this is the basement – the soundproof basement – and they must have caught their guy, the Taxidermist. Holy shit.

  “Baby,” his deep voice croaks, “you were supposed to stay in the room. I was only going to be a moment.”

  Leo scoffs, amused. “You really thought she would stay put?”

  Frank is visibly unimpressed by Leo’s comment. With gritting teeth and flared nostrils, he orders everyone to leave.

  Seconds later, when we are alone, neither of us makes a move.

  I’m hoping he can tell that I’m only curious, not upset. The Taxidermist more than deserves whatever is happening to him down there.

  Blood drips from Frank’s hand and that voice inside of my mind says, “Oh no, not the clean tiles.” I think I need a new Jiminy Cricket.

  I shake my head once, just to clear it. Should I tell him that I know who is in the basement or keep that knowledge to myself, knowing that I would basically be confessing to eavesdropping?

  “Who’s down there?” I ask, casually inquisitive. I suppose I’m going to play dumb.

  He only stares at me further, jaw slack, seemingly trying to figure me out.

  Just when I think that he isn’t going to respond, he says, “This is something I cannot tell you, darling. Not yet. I’m sorry.”

  Wait, what? My life is literally an open book to him and yet he can hide this from me?

  Does he think I’m too delicate to know what he does?

  “Baby, please. I need you to trust me on this.” The pained look in his face softens my anger.

  I take a deep breath and say, “Okay.”

  I decide to give him a chance to tell me when he’s ready.

  But the next day, there is still no explanation.

  Nor the next day.

  And not even the day after that.

  Job hunting has been unsuccessful. Everywhere I go, I am told that they will consider my application but something tells me that my resume is thrown in the trash the minute I leave.

  No one wants to hire the mob boss's wife. And those who would are connected to Frank and his ego won’t allow me to work for his underlings.

  One of the rare moments he and I had together these past few days was strained and awful. He either hadn’t realised that there was so much on my mind or he chose to ignore it because he continued to be his usual doting and charming self. And it was maddening.

  He told me that he bought tickets to the opera. He had invited Seamus and Wendy and presented me with a large, expensive emerald necklace to wear to the event.

  I told him that I don’t want to go and that I’m not some trophy wife. I want a job, damn it. And I want my husband to trust me with his secrets – all of them.

  And then I asked him for a list, no matter how short it may be, of places that I can apply for employment without stepping on his toes.

  I know that it hurt him, made him feel guilty. As he stood before me, I could see that he was thinking about how to resolve this. And I love him - I love him so much - but he turned and left without uttering a single word.

  I need to get out of here now, before it gets too much.

  So, I decide that I will take Sam up on his offer and meet him and Eddie - tonight. Perhaps my stepson could shine some light on our relationship with the serial killer in my basement?

  Besides, I’m a grown woman; being married doesn’t mean I should stop being my own person.

  I don’t have a job. I don’t even have my own car – not that I would be allowed to drive myself anywhere, anyway.

  And we live in the city of New Orleans – a place renowned for music, food, culture and nightlife.

  I can’t just stay here.

  I had tried to get the band together, but Sebastian has gone to Phoenix with Natalia to support her at a fashion show.

  I would visit Manny and Silvia, but my brother would know that something was up and I don’t want to make him doubt Frank. I have done enough of that on my own lately.

  With no other choice, I hitch a ride with Marty and Dominic to Molly’s and tell Stacey to pass the message onto the guys. She nods rapidly, eyes wide, and I feel bad for even involving her, but she seems kind of excited to be a part of...whatever this is.

  When I return home, I’m glad that I manage not to run into Frank.

  I tell Dominic that I’m meeting up with the band at Medusa later. He would still have to take me there and check the place out before I can enter but in my message to Stacey, I told the guys to wait in the men’s room until I arrived so we should be okay.

  Looking at my ever-growing wardrobe, I find it way too hard to pick something to wear. Between the designer dresses and the ridiculously expensive shoes, there are just too many possibilities. And don’t get me started on my new jewellery collection. Hopefully, Frank will cool it after my little spat earlier. Although, usually, the more I resist, the more he gives.

  I end up finding something both suitable and comfortable to wear. It was something I owned before moving here – a black dress with long sleeves and a white pan collar. The dress stops mid-thigh and I pull on black tights and my trusty cherry docs. I have plenty of time to do my hair, so I do it up in a half crown braid.

  The plum lipstick and black eyeliner aren’t too stark against my pale skin. In fact, for the first time in years, I feel pretty good about the way I look. Could it be from all the positive reinforcement from my husband?

  Thinking about him makes me feel a twinge of guilt. Is it bad to lie about who I am meeting with? Probably. I know that I hate being lied to.

  Also, sneaking around like this would make me look guilty of something more if he finds out about it.

  Perhaps I should confide in him. He can’t be too upset, really. Sam is family and Eddie has become a friend. Perhaps I could mend his relationship with his son? And I can have friends, can’t I?

  He is not anywhere upstairs, so I go below and try to find him in the den, the billiard room – his usual haunts – but he is nowhere to be found. The living room is empty and so too, is the dining room. The last place to look is down the hall at the back.

  Sure enough, Alex and Antonio are posted outside the basement door. So, Frank must be with his prisoner, who I am not allowed to know anything about.

  Feeling petty, I decide not to tell him after all. If he can keep secrets from me, I can keep them from him too. It’s only fair.

  Medusa is alive tonight. While Saturday nights are for live bands and chilled games of pool, Friday nights are for dancing and letting loose.

  I need a drink so badly, so I head over to Glenn at the bar and order a gin and tonic.

  I knew he would be here – I ha
d asked him if he had a shift tonight. That way, Dominic can see that I am “meeting up with the band” and leave me alone. It was the only plan I could think at the top of my head.

  When Dominic is finally satisfied that no one poses a threat, he nods in my direction and heads back out. In the car, he had instructed me to text or call if I felt even a hint of danger. Pshh.