by S. W. Frank
Alfonzo gestured for the guards to remain in the corridor after checking Carlo’s bedroom and finding him missing.
“Sí chica.”
“Come in, join the party.”
He stepped into the bedroom, saw Giuseppe handcuffed and muzzled near the far wall, Carlo in Nicole’s arms and he frowned.
“Let me put my nephew back to bed Nicole. He’s sleeping. Why wake him up because you don’t like me?”
“Do you love Carlo?”
He didn’t hesitate in his mind, but his mouth deliberated. If he said yes, she may harm him. Nevertheless, he could never lie about his love of the boy. “I love Carlo to death.”
“Wow, do you hear this Geo? Your brother doesn’t love your kid. He sees I have a gun and he wouldn’t lie to save Carlo. He only loves himself…look at him. He had to put on a suit to come here. I thought he’d run over in pajamas, but nope, he took time to don a suit.”
Alfonzo quickly glanced at Giuseppe. “What happened Nicole to make you mad? So mad you tried to call the feds?”
Her face contorted into such hate, Alfonzo thought she might pop him right there. “You pretend you don’t know. Is that how you play? Eat and smile after killing people you love?”
She pointed the gun at Alfonzo’s head. He didn’t flinch.
His gaze remained on her face.
He stood ready to take a bullet for Carlo and Giuseppe.
“Stop talking shit and shoot. I killed your sister, and Tony and I’ll kill you too!”
She fired.
She squeezed off another round and Alfonzo’s body slammed into the wall. He watched her rising like his Phoenix tat, loosening hold of Carlo to put both hands on the weapon.
Oh, she was pissed, and as she stood to finish him, he grinned and made her madder.
Never piss off a woman.
No bueno.
Boom!
Blood splattered.
26
They reached the safe house after he abandoned the car in a No Parking Zone in front of a precinct. Undoubtedly, it would be ticketed and towed, which is exactly what Lorenzo wanted. If the people followed the trail, that’s where it’d stop. If they head to Greece, they’re a brazen and foolish lot.
He searched the closets of the secluded ranch on the eastern shore of Long Island and found an assortment of clothes. Chocolate went to bathe and he heard her bawling, but he didn’t offer solace. Sometimes a person has to cry out the helplessness to realize they’re actually strong.
He tossed a t-shirt on the bed that looked about his size and a small dress for Chocolate, hoping it fit her tight. He admired the female form. The sculptor that designed the female gender should’ve used some of that magic and given males more stamina.
The bathroom door opened and she stepped out wrapped in a towel, brown skin gleaming and downcast eyes.
“We will have vengeance,” he assured her.
She turned on the TV. “That won’t bring my Mama back.”
“No, but it will bring me satisfaction.”
She sat on the bed, eyes on the screen, ignoring the dress. “I appreciate you coming Lorenzo.”
“You are welcome. Get dressed, we will company and I am certain there will be many guests.”
She shrugged and he gathered she wanted to alone. He put on the t-shirt. “Are you hungry?”
“No.”
He took a seat next to Chocolate and held her hand. “You are not alone. I am sorry for your loss. When this is over, I would like you to come to Greece. There you can start over. I will help you.”
She met his gaze. “I don’t want your pity Lorenzo. I’m not a charity case.”
“No. You are a lovely woman that I believe experienced many bad breaks. I offer a new beginning, with me.”
“What do you mean with you?”
He lowered her towel, kissed a breast and then her shoulder. In her ear, he said, “You give me hope and make me feel loving things.” When he kissed her lips, it was tender but strong. “I want you, think of you, admire you, believe in you,” he said as he lowered her to the mattress, loosening his belt and removing his trousers during the seduction. “That is the essence of hope.”
She blinked, encompassed by a strong desire to be his muse. He didn’t say he loved her. He didn't need to. She witnessed more respect and affection from Lorenzo than some men that claimed to love their women.
She arched during the slow penetration; bending more the deeper, he traveled. She bit her lip as he dined on her tits, whimpering tears from the pleasure.
“I will be good to you Chocolate, will you be good to me?” he asked.
“Ummm,” she moaned as he rubbed her thighs, bending her knees to give her more pleasure. “Yes…yes.”
Then he rolled her on her belly and she cooed as he took her and she fisted the sheets panting at the delicious sensation Lorenzo elicited.
She would have agreed to Lorenzo’s basest fantasy had he asked, simply for the feel of his hardness. However, he didn’t request a whore, he wanted a new beginning and she did as well, that is if they lived.
“Bravo! Bravo!”
There were claps from the doorway and Lorenzo’s skin turned crimson. He brought the sheet over Chocolate and rose to face the audience.
“I assume you’re Lorenzo,” a man in fatigues and with a cigarette in hand said. Close by were others imposingly statured and clothed in dark colors. “Alfonzo sent us.” He held out his cigarette. “After that performance you might need a smoke.”
Lorenzo scoffed. “I have quit.”
The shortest of the four laughed. “We’ll wait downstairs until you finish in order for us to address an unpleasant business.”
“Not the horizontal kind either,” another quipped and then he winked at Chocolate. “Nice.”
Lorenzo scoffed. “There are only four of you pathetic creatures?”
“We’re all you need,” the Winker replied and then he vanished from the doorway, leaving Chocolate with her mouth agape.
27
Six people waited.
Seated around a table that could hold a dozen, ears and eyes alert were listeners for an anonymous call.
The backup Alfonzo sent brought specialty clothes, bulletproof caps and suits that Lorenzo was told could withstand low to mid caliber bullets.
Every person at the table wore armored attire.
Chocolate wore a fashionable outfit, of the same material. He preferred the dress but the jeans and boots were protecting the assets he planned to keep close in the future.
“So, how long have you two been together?” One of the Kaposi brothers asked.
Lorenzo had learned they were brothers, but not their individual names. They preferred to go by numbers. The eldest was One and so on.
“A while,” Chocolate lied.
“Yeah, I can tell. He’s trying to get you pregnant,” Three stated. He was the Winker and the shortest, with stubby arms.
One laughed. “I’ve been fucking my wife for years and she has yet to sprout a mini-me.”
Lorenzo rose from the table for a beer, the brothers were crass. “Can you respect the lady before I knock your teeth out!” he cautioned.
“Sorry lady,” One said out
the side of his mouth.
Lorenzo returned with his beer and a soda for Chocolate.
Two was checking the guns, testing the weight and slapping in magazines. He pointed at Lorenzo and fired. The bullet was a whoosh of air that knocked him out his chair.
Chocolate screamed. “Are you guys’ crazy?”
Lorenzo coughed, rose to his feet and his fist clocked the shooter backward to the floor.
The brothers whooped and hollered.
“Yeah, it’s on!”
Lorenzo found himself boxing, grown men one at a time. Yeah, they took turns fighting him and he beat each one, except Three, the shortest was a southpaw and fast on his feet.
Lorenzo managed to dodge his last strike and get in a solid punch to his eye right before Chocolate’s cell began ringing.
The sick fun was over and they each sported busted lips and bruises. Some appeared worse than others did. Surprisingly, Lorenzo enjoyed the scuffle. It kept him off the booze. It also reminded him to hit the gym. He was gaining bad fat and had become slower.
Chocolate couldn’t believe they’d actually jumped Lorenzo.
She was hoarse from shouting at them when she answered the phone and followed the script. She had the caller on speaker.
“Do I need to go down the line of everybody you know to get your attention?”
“You killed my mom you fucking coward.”
“She committed suicide.”
“No she didn’t.”
“Anyone that loves the drugs lives for death.”
Chocolate’s eyes swelled with tears. She had worried she’d find her mom dead in the gutter after an overdose.
“See, you know it is true. I did you a favor. Now I need one in return.”
“You’re sick.”
“Everyone is sick in some way. Let’s cease the exchange of insults. You have a friend. He shot a friend of mine. To have your attention I have a friend of yours. She wants to say hi. Say hi Monica.”
Chocolate gasped when she recognized Monica’s panicked shriek, “Diane!”
“That’s enough,” the caller said. “In one hour you are to meet me at the west side of Valley Stream Park. Bring Lorenzo Cuvato and the book. We will trade. You may maintain a living friendship with Monica. I get my book and Lorenzo and I will talk. Maybe, he will agree to make amends by working for me.”
The caller disconnected.
The rustling was the sound of the men assembled, gathering their weapons and hurrying to the door.
Lorenzo took her arm and she stopped to tell him, “He knows who you are. You don’t have to come. I don’t like the sound of this.”
“He knows who I am. However, he does not know what I do.” He pulled her along. “Tonight this nightmare ends for you and then we start a new life.”
28
The Kaposi’s spread out.
One took a position near a building where Park’s employees did their paperwork and stored cleaning material. He scaled the brick structure to lay supine on the roof with a sniper rifle.
Two, Three and Four were shadows near trees, with communication devices in their ears. One’s eyes were the perimeter scout and his voice the human GPS locator.
“Heads up assholes!” he said as three vehicles rolled from a darkened street onto the lawn with lights off.
Lorenzo stood slightly in front of Chocolate. Her shoulder pressed in his side and he felt her tremble at the sight of the Rolls Royce.
“That’s the car, oh my god, this is connected,” she whispered.
The occupants of the lead vehicle exited, looked around and strolled forward under the dim light. The speaker introduced himself as if anybody cared.
“I’m Deshi. Since I already know your names I thought it fitting to tell you mine.”
“Where is the woman?” Lorenzo asked, unimpressed by the name or his arrogance.
A car door opened and a frightened Monica emerged, restrained by Deshi’s henchman.
“Bring the book Lorenzo!”
“Send the woman here first.”
“Any attempt to run and you will all be shot.” Deshi warned.
“Wow he’s cocky!” One remarked. “I count ten, including cocky Deshi.”
The man released the girl and she walked briskly to Chocolate and Lorenzo. When she got there, she hugged Chocolate and wiped away her tears.
“Okay, bring the book Lorenzo.”
Lorenzo gripped the lavender notepad. It resembled an old woman’s journal. Therefore, he improvised.
Chocolate was reluctant to step away from Lorenzo, but he ordered her to and she began slowly moving backward as he went forward with the book.
Lorenzo guessed when they were safely to the shelter of the building was right about the time he handed the pad to Deshi. During the exchange, he seized Deshi around the neck, twisting an arm behind his back and ordered the occupant of the Rolls Royce out of the car.
Not any shots resounded, yet. They needed audio on the recording.
An unassuming man emerged.
“I suppose you’re aware who I am,” he said to Lorenzo. “I suggest you release my friend. There is only one of you and many of us.”
Men exited the vehicles with automatic weapons.
“You will have one less friend,” Lorenzo said. “Unless, you tell me why you killed for this worthless notebook?”
“That you have asked tells me you have not read it. That is good.”
Lorenzo took several steps backward with Deshi out of the park lamp. In the shadows of a dusty moon, he twisted and cracked his neck, dragging him several feet as One picked off an armed man.
The rapid sounds emanating from the cars were similar to fireworks. Lorenzo released a barrage of shells, striking targets as he hurried to where the women were.
The gunfire exchange lasted a few minutes.
He felt Chocolate’s hand gripping his shirt when the noise quieted.
“That was the Deputy Mayor,” she said. “He’s a goddamn murderer.”
“He is?”
“There was a scandal, yeah; a matter of fact, someone in the Mayor’s office was accused of misappropriating funds. That was a big thing on the news. But, I didn’t follow the story.”
Monica chimed in. “The story was squashed after the accountant was found dead. The police believed it was an attempted robbery because his briefcase was missing. His wife said he had it when he went to work that morning.”
Lorenzo sniffed. “It is unfortunate you discarded the diary.”
“It is.”
29
In the air, flying over the sea, a thug viewed heaven.
Image upon image were faces of the dead.
Where do good people that turn bad go? He wanted to know because he expected to meet Nicole there and many others.
He replayed her death, wondering what power it took for Giuseppe to stand with cuffed feet and tackle a determined shooter. She had slammed on the bed and the gun discharged against her chest.
Yeah, Giuseppe made a mess and Alfonzo didn’t clean it up, he had hired people for that.
If anyone was leaving a trail of death, circumstance was the wicked culprit. Maybe, he was El Diablo’s son. What else can explain a person with a litany of bad deeds having a good sleep? He ruminated.
“Thanks hijo for keeping me company. I hate taking these flights alone. I am so happy to go home. It is like I have been in a coma and waking up after many years to a beautiful sky.”
Alfonzo rubbed his eyes. The plane taxied to a halt and he stretched sleep from his eyes.
He wondered if Giuseppe rested.
He had gone to his Mama’s with
Carlo after the shooting.
Giuseppe mentioned they had a sister, but that wasn’t shocking.
El Diablo is Luzo.
Lorenzo entered the private jet. He let go of Chocolate’s hand and they flopped in adjoining seats facing the plane’s owner, reclined in his seat, peering from hooded eyes at their disheveled condition.
He nodded in affirmation and Lorenzo returned the acknowledgment. An attendant passed the weary refreshments, the hard stuff for a hard day. There are moments when liquor is warranted.
The plane taxied along the runway, taking flight with smoothness as powerful as liquor going down.
The men were silent for a long time, each in his head, drinking to stop thinking.
Another bottle was placed in the holder and Lorenzo did the honors, filling the quiet man’s glass. Chocolate slept after a round, her head resting on Lorenzo’s arm.
“Rough day for you, too Alfonzo?” Lorenzo asked after he reclined.
“Me? Nah, I’m cool,” Alfonzo, replied, unwilling to engage in drunken talk with everything on his mind. He’d ensured the jewels were back in his care; the sharing of his history was put on the backburner. A killer was out there, walking around, but not for long.
“It is unfortunate; I never knew Vincenzo was my Papá. My memories of him are contradictory from a child’s mind. In one scene he is bleeding in the others, he is smiling as we walk and playing with a toy train. Images are the pictures that are but a small fraction of someone’s life.” He swallowed the liquor in his glass, poured more, looked at the bottle with the ace insignia and chuckled. “We drink like kings. All we need are crowns. Mine would likely be wires with fishhooks. I am a simple man. Tell me Capo de Tutti Giacanti,” Lorenzo pound on his chest and belched. “How will yours look?”
Alfonzo looked Lorenzo over. The blonde hair began to lengthen from a long ago close cut. The bruise and marks were a visible legacy of violence. Tattoos were their commonality and perhaps their deep connection to family. He hadn’t determined what to make of Lorenzo thus far, a favor paid a debt, but family bonds are not severed easily.
Alfonzo’s eyebrow arched higher than he felt. He wondered if Lorenzo played mind games, thinking liquor dulled everyone’s mind. He played such games, all day every day in el barrio and the boardroom, trying to figure people out.