Queen of Secrets, page 18
I smiled politely and sucked down every drop.
“Easy, sweetheart. You’re gonna get a headache. But hey, you might need a little somethin’ to help warm you up. And I’m all about loosening you up for tonight.” A wicked grin swept across his face.
He poured me another and another. After a while, I felt numb and dizzy. I lay on the bed and closed my eyes. Then came his advances. He reached under my dress to pull off my garter belt and seamed stockings.
“Sit up so I can undo your dress.”
At his command, I moved my body toward his. I got up too fast and felt like I was gonna be sick. I pushed his body to the side and ran to the bathroom, where I threw up all my aunt’s fritters.
After heaving up a good plate’s worth, I brushed my teeth to get the bitter taste out of my mouth and leaned against the bathroom vanity. Looking in the mirror, I noticed where my makeup had caked up around my eyes and ran down my face from sweat and tears. I removed my veil and let my hair fall onto my shoulders. Knowing what was about to happen, I took deep breaths and tried to walk myself through the process in my mind. I wouldn’t fight against him because I was his wife now. But would he expect me to enjoy it? There was no way. After I splashed water on my face, I made my way out of the bathroom.
“I told ya not to drink so much, baby.” He stood in his underwear; his tuxedo draped over a nearby chair. “Here, let me get you outta that dress so you can relax.”
I closed my eyes as he undid the laces and the buttons in the back. It felt a bit like a scary movie when the monster approaches, yet I couldn’t move—my legs were in quicksand. There was no escape, just silent submission.
When he undid the last button, the dress sprang forward and fell onto the carpet. He held my hands, and I stepped out of the garment. I stood in front of him, exposed, with only my corset and my panties. Here we were—husband and wife, staring at each other.
I never paid much attention to Frank’s dramatic features before. He was, however, a decent-looking man. He had a firm jaw line that butted up against a full head of coarse, jet-black hair. His olive-toned skin complemented his intense hazel-brown eyes. They were reflective, and in the right light, I saw right through them. But it was his body hair that I was most surprised about. I’d only been with Gaetano, so I had little knowledge of men, in general. Frank was covered in hair. It was all over his chest and part of his back. A little jarring at first, but it made him look all the more like the beast from a scary movie.
Frank grabbed the back of my head and forced my face toward his. He kissed me vigorously. Kissing was the hardest part. Faking a good kiss is difficult. Motionless, I stood there while he forced his tongue in my mouth. On instinct, my body pulled away.
Once he sensed my hesitation, he squeezed me tighter. He wanted to claim his property. He tried to pull my corset open, but the metal latches foiled his attempts. Frustrated and filled with lust, he reached for his knife in the pocket of his tuxedo and savagely cut through the laces.
The corset dropped to my feet and my breasts sprang forward. He ravaged my chest and nipples, licking them. The sensation stimulated my insides. No matter how hard I fought against this, my physical body was turned on. Although my brain may not have wanted to engage in such activities, my body felt differently. He picked me up and laid me on the bed.
To show my willing participation, I reached for him and dug my fingernails into his back as he continued to fondle me. I felt myself rising. To help myself along, I shut my eyes and imagined it was Gaetano touching me. Then my juices really flowed.
I felt Frank pull down my panties. And then it happened. With my eyes shut, he entered me. He grabbed my legs and hinged them up around his shoulders, trying to move himself deeper inside me. And right as I began to quiver, he grabbed my face and yanked it toward him.
“Look at me,” he snapped.
I opened my eyes and stared at his face. With my knees around his ears, he said,
“You like this, baby?” He grinned as he continued to thrust back and forth.
Out of fear that I might lose my concentration toward my finish, I didn’t answer.
“I said, do you like this? Answer me, God damn it,” he insisted.
I nodded in silence while he continued.
With no response, his eyes grew cold. “Turn over,” he commanded.
I turned around and got on all fours. I pushed my head deep into the pillow to obstruct my vision and hearing to make it all more bearable.
He grasped at my hips and pulled me back and forth harder and harder until I felt the echo in my pelvis. He reached around and stroked me, hard. The walls of my vagina came crumbling down, and I pulled my head to the side, away from the pillow to get air from my release.
With a few more thrusts, he claimed his victory inside me. He pulled out and fell down onto the bed next to my limp body. Both of us tried to catch our breath and lay there until he was ready to get up. There were no words. He went straight to the bathroom to clean himself up, then threw me a towel to do the same. I wiped myself, then threw the towel right back at him. He looked down at the cum-stained towel and then back at me.
“Hey, wait a fucking minute. Let me see you.”
He yanked my legs apart. His cum dripped down onto the sheets beneath me. He first examined, then stuck his fingers inside. He pulled them out to look at them in the light and then he slapped me so hard it made my ears ring.
“Why didn’t you bleed, you bitch? You ain’t no virgin,” he yelled. “Who’s been in this pussy before, huh? Who do I have to fuckin kill? Puttana!”
I reached for the sheets and wrapped them around my naked body. “I’m no puttana. I haven’t been with anyone,” I hissed.
“Then why’s there no blood?” he asked as he smeared his fingers onto my now-burning face. “See? No fuckin’ blood,” he accused.
“I don’t know why there’s no blood. I’ve never done this before.” I raised my arms in front of my face to block the next blow.
“There’s supposed to be blood. That’s it,” he spewed. “I’m gonna make this pussy mine, so you won’t ever leave me for some other piece of shit. These are mine,” he said, then bit down hard on my nipples. My breasts burned like fire. When he pulled away, I noticed he bit so hard he left bite marks.
“Stop. You’re hurting me,” I yelled.
“Get your little ass over here,” he commanded, then pinned me down and shoved himself into me again.
Pallid light came through the hotel window. I edged my pained body to the side of the bed. From the brutal strikes to my face, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to eat or speak tomorrow. Bite marks on my breasts and inner thighs felt like a swarm of bees had attacked me. They were raised and hot to the touch. I massaged my body and shut my inflamed eyes. Trapped in the blackness, I held on to my pillow tight as if it were Gaetano’s arms shielding me from my reality.
I was too afraid to cry. The hairy monster got me.
Wedding Gift
After my night of terror, Frank drove us back to the ranch. Once we stopped at the corner of Market and Santa Clara Street, Frank reached into his coat pocket and handed me some cash. “Here, doll, here’s some of the money from the wedding. Go buy yourself new dresses,” he said contritely.
“You paying me for my services? Look at this, Frank,” I said, then pulled down my shirt to the top of my bra to show him his wreckage.
He looked over, then turned away.
“Do what you want with the money,” he said, avoiding my stare. “Buy somethin’ for the house then. I don’t know.”
“Don’t talk to me.” I grabbed the cash and shoved it into my purse. It was my money too, and it was only a small portion of what this whole arrangement owed me, so I took it with no more protest.
To avoid seeing anyone, I ran straight to our room and locked the door to stay as far away from Frank as possible.
“Hey, I gotta get clothes, God damn it,” he yelled.
I cracked open the door. “Here,” I said, then threw his suits at him.
“You can’t stay in there all day. I betta have my dinna on the table when I get home.” Frank snickered. “Yous keep it up, and I will break this door down, you hear?”
“Stay away from me,” I fired back.
“Vaffanculo,” he roared.
“Basta,” Pop yelled down the hall at Frank. “Be quiet, Franco. I hava patients.”
“Mi dispiace, Giuseppe. I’m sorry. It’s just your daughter. She’s in a bad mood, and, well, she won’t let me into our room.”
“Give her time, she canno stay in der forever,” Pop said. “Das what I do wit Adelina. When she mad, I stay away. And besides, my wife carry a gun.” Pop laughed a full belly laugh.
“Maronn, that’s all I need,” Frank said.
I reached in my purse and fanned out the money. Maybe that was what I needed—a gun. Then the next time he got rough, I’d shoot him right between the legs.
“I don’t need this shit. I’m leaving,” Frank yelled.
“Good riddance,” I said through the door.
I lay in bed for the next few days and tried to put the terrible night with Frank out of my mind.
As the weeks wore on, we fell into our new titles of gangster and Mafia wife. When forced to see each other, we avoided eye contact. When he entered the bathroom, I walked out. If I came into the kitchen, he left.
Even in our bed, there was an invisible line between us that neither crossed. He didn’t even try to proposition me for sex. Maybe he felt guilt for the way he had handled me. I didn’t care what he did as long as he left me alone. He had a habit of getting drunk, which often accompanied outbursts. Then the next day, he’d be quiet and isolated from others. This was a pattern that I learned how to navigate.
While Frank was busy getting his hands dirty, literally, in all things mob-related, I made a home by hanging curtains and potting house plants. On occasion, I bought things to make our home feel inviting. I frequented Zavlaris’s thrift shop, buying all the little things I’d always wanted to buy when I didn’t have money. Secretly, I was trying to recreate the guesthouse at the Sanna winery.
After I bought decorations for the house, I picked up new dresses, as Frank had suggested. With my new ‘allowance,’ I wouldn’t have to borrow from my sister anymore. I liked the independence that money gave me. A lot. Many things I bought made me feel happier—temporarily.
One day, when Frank was out, I went downtown to one of those fancy dress shops. I tried on everything and dropped the cash down on the counter. The woman behind the counter cocked one brow and examined me.
“Is there a problem, miss?” I asked, rather cavalier.
“Um, no, ma’am, no problem. Here’s your receipt. Thank you for shopping with us.” She handed me my bags apologetically.
I walked out with bags full of new dresses and shoes. I felt rich with all the bags hanging from my arms. This was one of the perks of marrying a gangster—the money. For a brief second, I felt empowered; and for that, I would ignore my conscience and revel in the moment.
At home, the weight of the bags on my arms was so heavy that I dropped the keys. When I picked up the keys and opened the front door, I tripped on a box left on our doorstep.
“Minchia, you stupid thing,” I screamed at the box in the doorway. Angry for making me stumble, I kicked it out of the way. I stormed in, threw my bags on the ground, and retrieved the parcel.
It was heavy and addressed to me in black writing from a Napa address.
I felt like I’d swallowed a scream. I clutched at my chest to see if my heart was still beating.
I knew of only one person who lived in the Napa Valley—my love, my Gaetano.
I quickly shut the front door and checked the house to see if Frank was home. I didn’t remember seeing our car in the driveway, so I went into the guest bedroom, locked the door, and drew the curtains.
My heart pounded. I had no idea what was in the box. My hands shook so badly, I struggled to open the package. Inside was a small brown box with the Sanna emblem on it. A big letter S with the sunrise in the back brought back a flood of memories. I pulled the top lid off the box to find a small note that read,
Congratulations~
-G
My heart sank.
I pulled out the bottle of red wine. It was the latest reserve of their cabernet. It even had a red satin bow tied around it. I hugged the bottle to my chest. My only connection to him. This wine was all I had left. His note made all my fears come true. He’d accepted my decision and wished me farewell.
Only a short time ago, Gaetano must have touched this bottle and thought about me and our time together. I felt connected to him. I wondered how he was and if the time between us had helped him get past the sadness. For me, no amount of time would ease the pain. For him, I hoped he’d find the happiness I’d never be able to give him.
If Frank asked, I’d say it was a wedding present from a friend of Pop’s. I placed the wine bottle in the back of the glass liquor cabinet, shut the door, and threw the box in the garbage. I grabbed my shopping bags and emptied the contents onto my bed, hoping that my new gifts would fill the hole in my heart.
Compadi
San Jose, California
February 2002
Barbara
I awoke to the sound of a door slamming. I looked at the clock. It was four in the morning, and Marcus was just coming in. To ignore his ranting and rambling as he moved his way through the house, I pulled the blankets over my head and tried to go back to sleep.
Marcus slammed open the bedroom door and started cursing.
“Kick me out? Are you fucking kidding me? Do you know how much money I put into that fucking place? No one kicks out Marcus Tidwell—no one,” he roared. “I’m gonna call my cousin, Leroy, and we gonna make problems for the Garden Valley. You don’t throw me out on my ass and think you’re gonna get away with it. Public intoxication, my ass. Accusing me of counting cards? Threatening to bar me from their establishment? No fucking way.”
Marcus fell onto the bed and passed out with his clothes on.
The smell of alcohol and desperation was so bad, I got out of bed and dressed for the day. As I added a layer of makeup to my face, I wondered why they kicked Marcus out. He’d been going to that club for years.
An ominous thought came over me.
Ms. G.
She’d said her cousin was a floorman there. Would she do something like that—for me? Maybe that’s who she called that day when she shut the door to her room. Was she still that powerful? As I swallowed my thoughts down hard, my gut said yes. And if I was right, it meant she’d protected me like I was a part of her family—even more—like I was part of the Molanano family. As much as I liked that Marcus was getting what he deserved, I hoped he’d never find out who really pulled the strings in this town, or my worlds might surely collide.
That thought sent a shiver down my spine.
“Well, look at you. Niner fan, huh?”
Ms. G. greeted me at the front door dressed in red and gold from head to toe.
“Best team around. See this here jersey?” She twirled around. “Number sixteen. Best quarterback of all time, and he’s Italian.” She smiled. “Hey, I don’t want to stay in today. I want to go visit my cousin’s husband, Angelo, in Goosetown. I need to pay him a visit. He has a deli there. We can get lunch.” She grabbed her sunglasses and matching 49er purse.
“Okay, Ms. G., sounds good. But first I have to examine you.”
“Jesus Christ, I can’t go anywhere without you poking at me.”
“Goosetown. Is this the same place you talked about before? The place you took Signora Sanna and her daughters?” I asked while opening my medical bag.
“Yes. It’s like our version of a Little Italy in New York. Everyone used to go there.”
“Pull up that sleeve. The longer you fight me, the longer it will take.”
“Fine.” She sneered and yanked up her sleeve.
Ms. G. and I got in my car. Her little eyes were wide, and a huge grin spread across her face. “So, where’s Goosetown?” I asked.
“Head toward the Willow Glen area. I’ll tell you where to go.”
As we made our way for her old stomping grounds, she told me how things used to look, and which businesses had come and gone. She pointed out where every mobster once lived in San Jose.
“There were wise guys everywhere out here. From grocery stores to restaurants, you name it—all linked to the Molanano family. Hell, even the guy who sold my father his cars became a big boss out here. He went to the Apalachin and everything.”
“What’s the Apalachin?”
“Only one of the biggest mob meetings in history. Heads of the five families were there—everyone.”
“What happened?”
“Some New York state trooper found out, and well . . . they raided the house. That was a dark day for the Mafia. That’s when the feds found out everything,” she said, then looked back out the window. “But the story that hit home was what happened at the cheese factory. Now that really screwed things up. Maronn, what an embarrassment. If you’re gonna whack a guy, you better make sure you finish the job,” she said and shook her head.
“A cheese factory? What could have possibly happened at a cheese factory?”
“Two guys were shot there and thrown in the trunk of a car. They found the car abandoned somewhere in San Francisco. One guy died, but his father lived. Lucky son of bitch survived a bullet wound to the head.”
“Oh my God, really? Found in the car?”
“Yeah, apparently he was in there hitting the door of the trunk with a shovel and someone eventually heard him,” she said, then laughed. “Talk about loose ends. Minchia. They were after all of us after that.”
“I can’t even believe that. Survived a bullet wound and found alive in the car—amazing,” I muttered with a shaky voice.
