MY WEDDING MAY have been a little wonky, but the honeymoon was awesome.

We ended up going to Camp Cosetino, a private island off the coast of South America. Today's Camp Cosetino was a four-story, eco-friendly structure with lots of windows, a trendy minimalist interior, a landing strip, several docks that could handle a boatload of boats, a movie theater, an infinity pool, and... I don't know what all. Architectural Digest featured it a few years ago.

The house was amazeballs, but for me, that wasn't the best part. The best part was the beach. Omigod, the beach... the sand was white, so white it hurt to look at it. The ocean was a navy blue that transitioned into this bluish green the closer it got to the shore. Best of all, it was only the two of us. Plus the staff. And a couple of Alex's business associates. Then there were some people from South America... the point is, we were mostly alone. Not alone enough to walk around naked, but alone enough to not have to worry about getting a decent spot on the beach.

The thing is, Camp Cosetino wasn't really a vacation spot. It was more of a storage facility. Back in the day, the only building on this island was a rundown shack. I'd seen pictures, and it was janky AF.

During Prohibition the Cosetinos used it to store rum from South America. Today they still used it to stash stuff from South America... the kind of stuff NSA spymaster Abel McAllister would find interesting. Not that I'm telling. What he doesn't know won't hurt him... or me, either. I don't ask, and I don't tell. Unless there's something in it for me. Then maybe I'll tell. Who knows?

I couldn't pretend anymore. I was a Mob wife. Pure and simple. I knew Alex had ties to the mob. Shoot, my family represented him, and everyone my family represented was either a mobster, a corrupt politician, a dictator, a corrupt international bank... the point is, I knew he was bad. But in my heart, I harbored hope he and his brothers had gone straight. I hoped Cosetino Shipping was a normal, publicly traded corporation, like other normal, publicly traded corporations.

I was wrong. Cosetino Shipping was a normal, publicly traded corporation, but there were other, darker businesses. The Cosetinos weren't just mobbed up; the Cosetinos were the Mob. The entire family was a Mob Triumvirate. Cesare was the "head" in a first among equals sense. His younger brother Julian was the accountant. Alex was the lawyer. It explained why Alex had spent so much time with my family when he was young. They taught him the art of criminal defense. Now he used all he knew to defend his own family. He was good, too... not that it mattered. All that mattered was that I had married a man whose life expectancy couldn't be that long.

Knowing that made everything a little... better.

I took a sip of my Cuba Libre. Today wasn't a beach day. Today was a business day. Alex had restricted my movements because he was expecting company... some people from Mexico and Columbia, I think. Something about trade issues that needed ironing out. I wished Alex wasn't using my honeymoon for business, but what are you going to do? Besides, they never stayed long.

Instead of going to the beach or the infinity pool laid out below me, I sat in my skimpy white bikini with my feet on the balcony railing. I had gotten the best French pedicure. I appreciated how the architect made the sliver of a pool look like it poured into the ocean. A breeze lifted my hair off my neck. It was another beautiful day.

I wiggled my toes. The pedicurist outdid herself. I hoped Alex tipped her well. She had called me Senora Cosetino before she had left. Senora Cosetino. Mrs. Cosetino. I was officially Mrs. Alexander Cosetino. So weird. Here I was, a Mrs, before I could even legally drink.

The thought made me thirsty, so I reached over and sipped my Cuba Libre. I never cared much about legalities.

I felt a little pink, so I sprayed myself down with more sunblock and a spritz or two of a bottle of iced Evian spray.

My phone buzzed a text. It was Amelia. Have you looked at the proofs yet?

Proofs? Oh yeah. The wedding pictures. A few days ago, Amelia had emailed me the proofs. They were good. I looked happy, Alex looked happy, we all looked happy.

At least, everyone was happy before they found Sean. It's like I told them. I didn't want him to walk me down the aisle. They should have listened. I misted my face and took another drink of my Cuba Libre.

Besides, he's recovering. I overheard Alex talking to Colin, and Colin said Sean could recognize people in pictures... although seeing mine made him freak out.

I finished my drink and texted Amelia. Yes.

Amelia was now my unofficial agent. I didn't ask her to be, and I didn't want her to be, but Alex insisted and I figured, whatever. I needed an agent because our photographer's assistant leaked a few pictures to the tabloids. They went viral. I was everywhere. It was. So. Weird.

Amelia texted back. Did you select the ones you want?

Was I supposed to? I asked and pulled up TMZ. The headline read Cosetino Child Bride. It featured a picture of Alex and I coming out of the church, my veil back, a big smile on my face, and a right turn away from a wardrobe malfunction.

"Forty-year-old Alexander Cosetino, rumored cosigliere of the Cosetino crime family married 19-year-old Siobhan McIver, of McIver, Iowa. The twenty-one-year age difference has stunned the New York social scene..."

I closed that out and navigated to the New York Times. I got a kick out of the reactions. Some magazines were condemning the whole age difference thing, like the New York Times editorial that used my marriage as an example of how necessary it was for Congress to enact legislation against child marriage. Personally, I thought it was a stretch. I was legal, for God's sake.

Then there were other editorals who thought teenage marriage could be the answer to teenage pregnancy... that's... that's... I can't even. I just can't.

I texted the kitchen for another Cuba Libre. A few minutes later, a fresh one appeared on my side table.

My favorite was an email from Playboy, offering me a centerfold spread. They wanted to call it "New York's Trophy Wives." I thought it was hysterical. Alex didn't, and he told them so in no uncertain terms. I still think it's hysterical.

Hysteria aside, I wasn't used to all this publicity. McIvers have a rule, and that's no publicity. I tried to get Alex to do something about it, but other than Playboy, he wasn't all that concerned about it. "It's better people know you than not," he said. "There's safety in popularity."

"I need safety?" I asked him. "I have you. Right? You're not leaving me in any storms anymore, right?"

He sighed and opened another bottle of wine. "I'm not leaving you in any more storms."

"Good. So can we do something about all this news?"

Turned out, we couldn't. I was an "It Girl." The only way I could stop being an "It Girl" was when another "It Girl" took my place.

What's an "It Girl?" I had to Google to find out. Google told me that an "It Girl" was the girl that everybody wanted to be. It meant pictures, interviews, maybe even an instagram account. Amelia had already lined up several interviews for me to do when I got back to New York. Being an "It Girl" sounded hard. I hoped I wasn't an "It Girl" for very long. I didn't think I had the energy for it.

Amelia buzzed another text. Choose the pictures you want. Please.

I replied with a row of sleeping face emojiis. She was being so obnoxious about those damn pictures. Why I needed to do that now, I had no idea.

A cigarette boat with a motor loud enough to be heard in Miami appeared out of nowhere and pulled up to the dock below. Alex stood there, waiting, along with a few of his employees. He was wearing a white Caribbean suit and a blue shit. He looked good. Yummy good.

The honeymoon was working. For some reason, I was kind of in love right now. I don't know why. Maybe it was the beach, the water, the sex... yeah. The sex. I smiled and took a drink.

Three men got off the boat. Two of the mean were clearly enforcers; one was smaller, slimmer, better dressed. All three kept looking up at me. The enforces managed to not stare openly, but the boss man... dude. Come on. Leer much? A stare that hard could burn off a bikini.

I smiled and waved a little. Alex told me to stay inside. This was me, staying inside.

The Latin dude smiled back, which Alex noticed. He frowned and pointed at the house.

Oh. Inside meant inside. I slowly stood up and stretched, my eyes closed as I enjoyed the feel of the trade winds on my face and body. I opened my eyes. The enforcers were gaping, Alex looked like he wanted to punch somebody, and the Latin dude had a boner.

I picked up my stuff and whistled for the dog. My work here was done.

I drifted back inside and plopped on the couch. Useless jumped up and laid down on my legs. The sunscreen made his fur stick to my legs. I checked Facebook. Molly had a bouncing baby boy and her Facebook was nothing but baby pictures. Jenny and Rory had gotten engaged. Jenny had asked me to be the matron of honor. Of course, I'd accepted. I figured "It Girls" were in lots of weddings.

I'd tell Alex later. Much later.

Then there were Frances, Chelsea, and Valentina. All three were sharing an apartment in Hell's Kitchen. They had a fourth roommate, one of the Midwesterners whose name I didn't know.  When they were looking for an apartment, I had their real estate agent "find" them an apartment in a building I had gotten as a wedding present.  They had no idea I did that for them, but what's the point of being rich if you can't help people?

I liked helping people.

As for the flight attendant job, Alex made me quit, so I told him I did.

Except that I kind of didn't. TransGlobal has this loophole where you don't have to work to still be an employee. All you had to do was find some else to fly your trips. Frances took care of my schedule and gave my trips away, or kept them for herself, whatever she wanted to do with them. It was all a win-win. I had a job if I needed it, Frances and the girls got overtime pay, and Alex heard what he wanted to hear. Just as long as Frances kept up her end, it would all be fine. Hell, it would all be fine, anyway. Why worry?

I put the phone down and closed my eyes. I was on the verge of falling asleep when something bit me. I sat up and slapped it.

Useless jumped off me and sprinted out of sight. My hand was sticky. Blood? I was bleeding? Must have been a big mosquito.

Automatic weapon fire answered that question. No. Not a mosquito. I cursed and grabbed the T.V. remote.

"Useless!" I whistled as I entered a code on the remote. "Come on, dog."

A hatch in the floor opened in front of me. Useless came flying from around the corner and took off down the stairs. I grabbed my phone and followed just the windows shattered around me.

Sounded like negotiations soured.

I locked the hatch, then grabbed the first aid kit. Inside was a firearm and several rounds of ammunition. I loaded the weapon and headed down the tunnel.

Man. Why was I always getting shot? Maybe I should worry about my life expectancy.

When I reached the end of the tunnel Alex was already there with the dog. Over his shoulder, I could see Vinnie and Paully wrapping something long and human-shaped in old tarps. Vinnie rolled one into a speedboat and wave at me.

"How you doing, Mrs. Cosetino?" Vinnie yelled. "Sorry to disturb you."

"No worries," I replied.

"Congratulations on the nuptials," Paully added as he rolled a second into the boat.

"Thanks!" I waved at them.

They went back to work and rolled the third one inside. I could hear Vinnie muttering about how heavy they were.

Alex took my gun from me. "Good girl. You remembered the code... are you bleeding?" He took my arm and studied it. "Did you get shot?"

My lip trembled. "Yes... it hurts."

"Baby." He took out his handkerchief and wiped it. "It's not bad. Only a graze. Didn't even pierce the skin."

"It still hurts."

"I know." He wrapped the handkerchief tightly around my arm. "I know, baby. Let's go fix you up."

He took my hand and led me out of the tunnel and onto the beach. I saw some men dismantling the cigarette boat. "They blew out the windows upstairs, too."

"I know, baby. I'm sorry that happened." We watched as Vinnie pulled the speedboat up beside the cigarette boat. Some of the men tossed the three bodies into the cigarette boat, then Vinnie towed it out to open sea. "Amelia didn't like the way bulletproof glass reflected the light. Apparently it's not as clear as non-bullet proof glass." He put an arm around my shoulder and kissed my head. "I'm sorry, baby. It'll be fixed by tomorrow morning."

The speedboat came tearing back towards the docks. In the distance was a large explosion.

I buried my head in his chest. "Alex, can we have dinner on the beach tonight? I want to watch the sunset."

_____ * _____ * _____ * _____ * _____

Yes, this version is finally coming to its end, but not just yet. I have one more chapter to add. Thank you so much for reading Siobhan's story and bearing with my rough first draft. I look forward to your comments... and if you like it, please vote!

©Copyright Liz Charnes September 2018

This work is protected by copyright and cannot be copied or used in any way without my express consent. Please don't steal it. Thank you!