Page 57

Sistine

T he music was so loud, the tinted windows of the SUV Remo drove rattled from the deep bass.

Willadeene Sharp, who everyone called Willa, was sitting up front with him, and she reminded me of a disco ball with red lips.

Her blond hair glimmered, along with the thousands of crystals on her all-black ensemble.

Everyone was required to wear all black with a sparkly silver addition. Mine was nails. Willa also oversaw the music, and it seemed as if it kept growing louder and louder. If she loved a song on her playlist, she turned it up.

“ Yahooo , Remo!” She shook her boobies at him.

“Are you ready for a night of fun?” She leaned over and squeezed his cheek, which she could not truly pinch.

He was probably made up of zero percent fat, just as all the Fausti men were.

“You are so serious!” She spoke to him as if he were a baby.

It was as if she were saying things like, wittle ittle .

His eyes slid to her for a second, then back to the road, a long sigh escaping his lips.

Another song came on and she clapped. “This is mah (my) jammie jam jam !” She turned the sound up, and while she was not looking, Remo turned it down a notch. She pressed the window down, screaming the song out to any wildlife that could have potentially been listening on the side of the road.

Atta leaned closer to me. We were sitting next to each other in the back seat. “The elk are running for their lives right about now.” She spoke from the side of her mouth, then she clasped my hand, squeezing.

I squeezed back, a sigh escaping my lips. I had caught sight of myself in the mirror, and I did not like what I saw. The same girl from years ago staring back at me. The same girl who had been peeling out of an old dirt road while a few stray bison still ran for their lives.

I did not like the way my heart was feeling. Something was not right. We had not heard from Mariano, Marciano, or Angelo since earlier. Angelo’s brothers had arrived from Italy, along with their parents, Romeo and Juliette, and were still waiting on him for his party to start.

My husband called me often if we were not together. Even when we were, his eyes were always on me, and if they were not, I knew his thoughts were. He would always reach out to touch me, even if he was speaking to someone else.

Remo met my eyes through the mirror. Before he could turn them away, I spoke to him in Italian. “Turn the music lower.”

He did.

I asked him in Italian if he had heard anything from Mariano. Remo did not know we were married yet. I wanted so badly to call Mariano my husband. To let the entire world know he was mine. Especially the women. My name was on him. My scent. My life.

Remo shook his head. No, he hadn’t heard from my husband. I sighed, and Atta squeezed my hand. Her face was solemn. That night was coming back to us both, and it was now connected to our men.

What if they had gone after Rattler and his brothers, and something had happened?

I told Remo in Italian to call Mia’s husband.

I worked with him at times to add the tracking devices to jewelry.

I wanted him to find out which areas he was not able to get service to.

Remo’s men could start there. It made sense.

If we could not get in touch with them, if they could not get in touch with us, we had to start looking.

When I suggested this, Atta perked up. She nodded. “We’ll start looking anywhere the Green family has been known to go around here.”

Remo shook his head. “Ah, this is not an option. I have strict instructions to take you and Sistine to the party site.”

“I do not want to go. I want to find my—” I switched gears. “We were all supposed to go together.”

This was somewhat true. After Angelo and Atta talked, they decided to have a joint party.

The men were going to meet us a little late after enjoying whiskey and cigars.

Willa had agreed to this plan after she found out more Fausti men were coming.

Angelo’s brothers. I did not believe any of them were attached.

Remo shook his head. “No.”

I leaned in close and whispered to Atta, “His life depends on his instructions.”

“Do we care?” she whispered back.

It felt callous to say no, but it was the truth. If I could find a way to break free from Remo and his men to look for my husband, I would. Then I would take responsibility for it later. Perhaps Remo would not even know we had left.

“Later,” I whispered to her.

Remo met my eyes and gave a subtle shake of his head. It was so subtle, if I hadn’t been paying attention, I would have missed it. He had heard me or read the intentions behind my eyes.

I would find a way.

“I have already called Saverio,” he said. “Men are already searching.”

Willa leaned forward and turned the music completely down.

“I don’t know what’s going on here.” She drew the word here out.

“But I don’t really care if it has nothing to do with this party for Atta.

” She shot me a narrowed-eyed glare. “This is her night, and I feel like it’s being hijacked by Negative Nancy back there.

No offense, Atta Girl, but your cousin is being a sour pickle.

” She made a face, as if she ate something bitter, then stuck out her tongue at me.

I rolled my eyes, but I did not take offense to what she said. She was right, to a certain degree, but I would not apologize for it. Not when something could be wrong with my husband. My heart did not feel right in my chest, therefore my soul—which set my entire body on edge.

“You don’t know what’s going on, Willa. Things are…with Angelo…family things,” Atta finished with.

“Again, I do not care. Family issues will always be there. You only have parties thrown in your honor for your first wedding once.”

Remo slowly turned to look at her, his eyebrows pulling in. “Tell me, do you plan on marrying more than once.”

She shrugged. “How many marriages do you know of that have gone the distance? Sure, back in the day people stayed together, most of the time unhappily, but we’re not in the stone age anymore. Divorce is an option.”

“I know of plenty,” he said. “What is the purpose of making vows if you know you will break them—then there is no purpose.”

“Good for you, but it’s best to be prepared. Because in the moment, it might all seem hearts and kissy faces, but people are not birds. They fall out of love, Emo Baby.”

Remo’s face turned hard. The only way I could describe it would be a thinking face. He was truly considering her words. “It is Remo,” he said, his voice far away, as if he were distracted and only correcting her automatically.

Some Fausti family members seemed to be deeper into the Fausti bubble, as I called it, than others.

Remo was deep inside. I could tell leading Mariano’s security was only one step in his position within the family.

I could sense there was something different about him.

Perhaps even something darker that existed in a box inside of himself.

Vincenzo, his father, was the same. He must have passed this trait to his son.

My phone was clutched in my hand, and as soon as it vibrated, I hurriedly checked it. Atta’s phone rang. We both answered at the same time.

“What is happening?”

“Where are you?”

Atta and I glanced at each other.

“Annie,” Mariano said. “I had things to take care of, then our gas was stolen. Left us stranded for a while.”

“Stolen?”

“Yeah, there and then fucking gone. You all good, my Annie?”

“I am now,” I breathed out.

“Yeah.” His voice was rough. He cleared it. “Me fucking too.” He told me he’d see me in a short time and then hung up.

Atta’s call lasted about the same time. We were both breathing easier, but we understood something felt off about the entire situation.

I could tell by the way she refused to let my hand go and would squeeze every so often.

Although Mariano was relieved to hear my voice, there was something equally scalding and chilling about his voice.

It was hard to explain what it did to me emotionally, but physically, I shivered from it.

“All right, you Gloomy Gusses—no more frowning! Let’s get this part- ay started! Whoooo!” Willa howled out the window, and Remo rolled it up on her and then locked it.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I beg your pardon.”

“You are scaring the animals,” he said.

Willa harrumphed at him, then started to sing along to the music until we pulled up to the dance hall she had reserved.

Three more Fausti cars were keeping close behind us, toting around all of Atta’s friends from Nashville.

My cousin had moved there after her record deal, although she told me her apartment was far from what she imagined as a signed artist. Atta was paying her own rent, and after the debt of the ranch, she could not afford much.

Although Willa was loud, and I sometimes found her obnoxious, she was good to my cousin. Therefore, I tolerated her.

The dance hall was packed. Atta and I looked at each other before we turned toward Willa, who was trying to open her own door.

“Still,” Remo said to her in sharp Italian.

She looked at him and tilted her head. “English would be great, Re mo, thanks.”

“He said for you to still yourself.” I translated.

“Well, that is kind of sexy.” She smiled at me. She had lipstick stains on her teeth.

I motioned for her, in the most subtle way, to wipe them.

She narrowed her eyes at me. “Is your cousin still speaking in Italian, Atta Girl? I know hand gestures are big in Italy.”

Atta narrowed her eyes at Willa.

Remo pressed his earbud, and in less than a minute, another Fausti solider took his place in the driver’s seat. Remo fixed his suit as he headed toward the dance hall. The building resembled an old barn, big golden lights glittering on the side spelling: Gold Rush.