by S. W. Frank
“You are one stubborn sonovabitch. I’ll make sure you have the firepower.”
“I admit primo you’ve been my nemesis and my savior. But, you can’t babysit a grown man anymore. I promised to start looking after your old ass and that begins with ensuring you’re solid with your wife and kids. I worry about you dude.” Alfonzo sighed. The past few weeks he worried a lot about Nico. So much killing, the heat from Giuseppe and the weight of responsibility required Nico had a reprieve. He’d surface when urgently needed. “Just enjoy the break, I have my ass covered all right?”
“Hey kid, I’m not some old man or suffering from dementia. There isn’t a break when it comes to security. Never believe that. The meeting is either an olive branch last-ditch effort or strategic. The objective of chess is to capture the opponent’s king, never forget Alberti’s lessons.”
“This isn’t chess and I’m not a king. Besides, a king bleeds. We all have wives and children Nico and my life isn’t more or less than yours or Giuseppe’s. I’ll deal with the existential threats, so relax.” Alfonzo peeked out the bathroom door. Selange must have dressed and gone downstairs. He shut off the tap and then tugged on his embroidered cuffs, and then went to don his shoes while listening to Nico’s list of pros and cons. “Look Nico, the meet is two weeks away. See you at your party. No more talking shop. Let me enjoy peace with family.”
Alfonzo entered the corridor in time to hear Anita telling the kids they’re to put the presents in the car like their mama said.
He waved at the group as their assembly line marched to the door. Several flashes occurred and Alfonzo struck a fighter’s pose as Vincent snapped pictures. He bought the kid a high-tech camera after Vincent confided he wanted to be a photojournalist. Imagine, that and he wasn’t yet seven, Alfonzo grinned with pride at the recollection of their pop-son conversation. Then Sal appeared from the direction of the office and gave his dad a solid punch to the arm and then tapped his watch to alert the parent to the time.
Alfonzo’s lopsided grin when he palmed Sal’s face for the sucker jab stretched wider when Sal returned with an air punch that Alfonzo side-stepped and bobbed, thrusting a fist at the teen’s face with the hand holding the phone. It hovered there to show the boy, he still had a long way to go as a boxer.
“We gotta’ go –please get mom off the computer,” Sal mouthed, as he ducked around his dad, whistling for Gee. “Mom doesn’t want Gee running around while we’re gone and wants him outside on the sun porch. If he pees on Anita’s plants, it’s not my fault.”
“Do as your mom says mijo,” Alfonzo said, censoring the boy’s complaint.
Teens were notorious for questioning a parent’s authority, before they’d fully outgrown diapers.
Giuseppe’s pit bull broke an antique chair, chewed the leg of the table and one of Vincent’s sneakers. Letting him run amok wasn’t happening. Alfonzo almost forgot about Nico waiting in a holding pattern. “Hey sill there?”
“Go, we’ll talk another time.”
“Yeah, adios primo.”
Nico laughed. “Yeah, later.”
Alfonzo tucked away the cell before making a beeline to the study where Selange sat hovering over her laptop. She wore a simple LBD and her hair was heavily slicked into a sophisticated chignon. He pressed his mouth gently on her exposed collarbone. “You look beautiful babe,” he said. “I see you managed to pull it together.”
Alfonzo recalled her earlier meltdown when unable to tame a wayward curl that required Angelina’s assistance for the back when a curl wouldn’t stay in place –that’s a serious situation.
Working isn’t what he expected to find her doing when they were expected at Nico’s party.
“Thanks, you do too. Honey, did you deposit more money into the scholarship fund?”
Alfonzo received the answer to his unspoken question. “Nah, why?”
“Cam e-mailed me that the accountant enquired about a large donation from an anonymous source. Our audit is next month and this looks really –really suspicious. Oh man, I need to remove this or I’m screwed. Remember the feds questioned me about laundering money? Damn!”
Alfonzo examined the figures from above. Selange tapped the highlighted numbers with a gold-dust nail.
Damn she smells nice. I wonder if we have time for a quickie? Nah, Sal’s ass might bust through the door. He’s suddenly the timekeeper.
“No, that’s definitely not me. I’ll look into it but don’t move a dime. Once you do another red flag goes up.” Any cash deposits of ten thousand dollars or more are flagged. Businesses are not exempt. This is how the IRS and law enforcement agencies try to apprehend criminals who seek to evade taxes or engaged in illegal activity. There were several cash transactions at various times on the same day, which exceeded the maximum allowance. She had fifteen days to file the appropriate forms. The banks were certain to file theirs in a timely fashion. Whoever deposited the money, did so deliberately to turn up the heat, otherwise the transactions would be traceable negotiable instruments.
Damn!
“I’ll have the accountant establish an origin from legitimate companies.”
He massaged her shoulders, loosening the tension knots. Selange was tenacious in reviewing her books. She also became anxious anytime the auditors were due. He’d fix the problem, and for extra measure grease some palms but she’d still have the nervous energy until the review was complete. He grew concerned, though. He didn’t want her investigated again or doing hard time.
Her shoulders slumped. “They’re depending on me. I can’t let where I live separate me from what’s happening in those communities. I won’t forget where I’m from and the pledge I made to help young people have a positive route to money to continue their education. Ugh, look at me stressing, ugh, I just know how it feels to worry about tuition, clothes and food. Geez, it was hard after my dad died…ugh…” She went silent, wiping her eyes.
He nodded, kneading out the tension as he inhaled her pain. He understood where she was coming from. They were living in their skin and she didn’t want those disadvantaged financially to start wearing the losing team’s jersey. Money provided a cushion for the existential crap, but there isn’t protection from discrimination. She only wanted to give good kids a chance and not have their dreams killed by a family tragedy and an indifferent society to the ills of others.
Yeah, he got it.
Alfonzo stroked her shoulders. “I believe in what you’re doing…super proud…but we’re entitled to indulgences without guilt. Having fun isn’t selling out, it only means you have an outlet to expel the frustration.” He chuckled. “You feel me?”
“Yes. But I’m not feeling a party this evening.” She spoke softly, not revealing her suspicion that Ari may have tampered with the charity funds. She’d ask her outright and if she was wrong, at least she hadn’t slithered around thinking the worse without going to the source. Ari had quirks, but who the hell didn’t. She had to believe…oh…her gut said Ari wasn’t Teresa.
“We’re stimulating the family economy when we celebrate and spend money on each other.” He stretched his eyes at his corny attempt at a pep talk. Selange was in her head, trying to save the world but worrying all the time was going to lead to headaches. He’d learned that shit years ago. “Come on babe, everybody’s waiting. We have to beat Ari and Nico to Sophie’s, remember?”
She stood, apprehension present in the tightness of her lips. He placed his palms on her cheeks, careful not to smudge her make-up. She was gorgeous without it, but on special occasions she wore the colorful rouge.
“Hey –hey –look at me. Stop worrying. I’ll take care of it, okay babe?”
Selange’s eyes ascended to his face. She wanted to tell him how sad she felt. She wasn’t in a festive mood in light of the passing of Tiffany and Tony. Somehow it wasn’t right. The whole business with Maria zapped her as well. And then there’s the nagging suspicion Ari’s the person responsible for reinserting that money, not to menti
on that damn book which began to read like a nightmare. She tried to tell Al, the people on the meeting list when she did her research were bad to the bone crooks and killers. Seeing DeMarco’s family’s name was triply unsettling. Yeah, Bruno was not his ancestor, however if his son was horrible, maybe Bruno wasn’t as nice as he appeared. She sighed, temporarily dismissing any worrisome thoughts.
“Okay,” she replied.
She didn’t want to burden Alfonzo with extra problems, especially after his conversation about an impending mandatory board meeting.
Alfonzo’s kiss was firm and comforting. He brought her close to his trunk, letting her know he had her covered. When he said, “I got you babe…I got you,” she always believed.
“I got you, too,” she whispered with closed eyes, seeing their long future.
“All right, no sad faces, no talk of books, conspiracies or any of that this evening. Nico needs to see we’re there just as he’s been for everybody. All right?”
“Alright.”
He took her hand, squeezing every so often as they joined the rest of the bunch waiting in the stretch Mercedes.
“You look nice mom!” Vincent shouted.
“Thanks sweetheart, so do you –all of you,” Selange said cheerfully, her eyes lovingly scanning the faces of her children. Sal had grown as tall as his dad, wow, and equally handsome. His piercing blue eyes were affectionate. They say the eyes never lie, that’s a misnomer, they do, but in Sal’s case the adage was true.
Aldonza wore a dress; she said she wanted to look nice.
Lately, there was a vast improvement in the girl’s behavior. Her dad conjured some powerful mojo to have that affect.
Angelina had a reading tablet on her lap, oblivious to everybody as the bulletproof vehicle rolled out of the gate with the usual caravan of security. Vincent was leaning over, snapping pictures of his sister reading. The girl continued reading, ignoring the boy as if he was invisible.
Selange smirked. Al had noticed his daughter tuned out her siblings and smiled, also. Husband and wife exchanged an intimate glance. They were proud of their little family. What remained unspoken is how they managed to beat the odds. They married young, had children, divorced and remarried. Their passion remained alive and their love survived.
Selange placed her hand on Alfonzo’s knee before his cell rang. He peered at the name, made himself comfortable, caressed her hand and then answered. “Hey, how are things going?”
“How do you think stronzo?”
Alfonzo noticed everybody had devices in their hand. Sal conversed with his cousins about their music choices for the party. Anita fussed in Spanish and Alfonzo surmised it was her troublesome adult son. Maria phoned to apologize to Aldonza for not being able to attend and Ari hit-up Selange to let her know they were just leaving for Sophie’s house but her children were already there.
“Funerals aren’t happy occasions bro.”
“Both of you can go to hell fratellino. I am in your country with a distraught wife. Her family argues with Tony’s lot about where the couple will repose. I am not patient with these squabbles or the fact my fratellino celebrates with the stronzo while I clean his mess!”
The vehicle rolled smoothly along. The only jolt was the lack of warmth in Giuseppe’s voice that caused veins to protrude from Alfonzo’s jaw. “There are no sides Geo,” Alfonzo replied. “It is unfortunate you feel that way. I can’t resurrect the deceased.”
“Be thankful your wife has no sorella.”
“Empty threat coño!”
Giuseppe snorted. “Eh, you are right. What injuries will that cause to you? You have sided with that stronzo for many years I believe you deem him your fratello. He fucks your wife and is forgiven. He has fucked me for many years but this –this I will not forgive. You choose –ora fratellino!”
Conversation occurred all around Alfonzo’s head as he scowled at what Giuseppe suddenly said. His eyes spit fire. He glanced to the floor to conceal his fury. “Since you’ve accepted a surrogate papa you want to sever ties with blood famiglia, give me an ultimatum, eh maricon? You choose to forget what Nico’s done whenever you’re displeased. You make pledges and then behave like a bipolar amnesia patient. I’m sick of your hypocritical bullshit!” The bass had elevated unknowingly. Giuseppe had stuck a blade in a healed wound at an inappropriate time. “If we were face-to-face I’d beat the shit out of you!”
Everyone fell silent; their attention was on Alfonzo whose pant legs bulged at the thighs during tense flexion. The hand clasping the titanium cell had venous branches.
Selange shifted uncomfortably at his side, putting her cell in her clutch. She felt the heat in the car; Giuseppe must have said something extremely offensive for Alfonzo to explode in front of the children.
“Your response reveals where your allegiance lies fratellino. Nico meant spit to me but you –you –ah speaking to you have caused a bad taste in my mouth. When we are face-to-face, my anger will be doused with strikes to your mouth for forgetting you cannot rule me!”
“First brush your teeth and use mouthwash, bastardo! You’re coming at me when I’m out enjoying family. You called me pendejo to whine like a wounded sparrow. Get over yourself!” The hurt of Giuseppe’s words went too deep to cover. The wicked sonovabitch had caused him injury too often. Now, asking him to choose and negate Nico who committed heinous crimes for their safety was ludicrous. Alfonzo disliked Tiffany died, however, Nico made a judgment call and she’d been the unfortunate collateral damage. Tony slipped up. Nico recently discovered Tony and his wife were planning to dip out of town. They had one-way tickets to the Virgin Islands scheduled the very next morning.
“Ah, bene. You understand my anger when blind-sided by a trusted fratello. By the way, cazzo, since you align with Nico, speak to the cook tonight. I think you will be interested in the private meeting our cugino had with your wife at my mama’s recently.”
“What are you talking about, what private meeting at your mother’s? That old cook told you this garbage? It’s bad enough you stick me in the rib, now you’re going for the jugular with gossip. Are you sure you’re not the butcher’s son?”
Selange heard and glowered angrily. Giuseppe intentionally sought to malign her.
“Kiss my nipote and their mama, buona notte stronzo!” Giuseppe bellowed.
Giuseppe hung up. Incensed, Alfonzo loosened the top button on his shirt. Selange reached for his hand, and subconsciously he recoiled and then made a fist. The slight hadn’t gone undetected. Selange flinched by the action that caused an invisible punch.
It’s true, Alfonzo reflected; sometimes he sided with Nico more often than with his brother. Mainly, because Nico wasn’t bat-ass loco, he had sound reasoning not purely fueled by emotion. Giuseppe failed to understand, he was man enough to admit his wrongs. He should have never sent another man to check on his wife on an anniversary of her mother’s death. Whatever happened after that, he dealt with it, yeah he drank himself to soul search every one of his terrible choices. He’d done some real crappy shit, too. He came to realize it’s a choice to be happy in a relationship and that’s between the couple. Alfonzo’s muscles relaxed as he leaned back. He wasn’t a fool though and, he’d verify everything Giuseppe said.
He grumbled, man, he carried a lot of guilt when it came to Selange. Her mother was murdered –murdered dammit simply because the man she married was mistaken for Luzo’s son. He should’ve released her from his life before she gripped on to his heart, but he couldn’t, ah man, he held on tight to his woman just to breathe.
Taking in air had grown difficult at the implantation of Giuseppe’s viral seed. Nico had been that guardian angel on his shoulder that he thought was luck. In the ‘hood, he knew many brothers doing nickel and dime stretches upstate whose women got with one of their boys, even had a kid, but when the brother got out, yo, they were straight. Ride or dying still to this day and he’s not a lesser man for loving his woman because he gave his homie and wom
an a forgiveness pass. Hate on the fact that crappy stuff happens in life but the way a dude copes reveals his mind. Selange wasn’t a whore, hell two guys in her lifetime, is practically a nun. He went through the motions in his mind, thinking out the anger and trying to not lash out at her without proof of wrongdoing. How could he choose –how simply based on an angry brother’s word?
Hearing Giuseppe’s venom was similar to drinking motor oil. Bad taste? Hell, Alfonzo wanted to puke at the thought of his wife and Nico playing him but in his heart he knew she wouldn’t –twice.
“Honey he’s making trouble. He’s mad and lashing out,” she said in earnest, sincerity dripping from every word.
“Not right now babe –don’t –not right now!” He growled irritably at the sweet voice.
The pulsing of thousands of drums was in his ears. Giuseppe that low-down bastard had reignited the doubt. What had she and Nico discussed behind his back? Why did she fail to mention their meeting in private?
The soothing of his insecurities occurred within.
Ease up off the throttle. Giuseppe’s pissed and when he’s angry, he throws daggers. You made your wife a promise…confirm what Giuseppe said first…look…you’re scaring the kids…chill…don’t let that maricon get in your head. Slow it down…easy…that’s right…compose yourself…don’t tip her hand. Wrangle in the insecurity until you’re sure you’ve given her a fair chance. You said you forgave, twice you wouldn’t and she’s aware that fucking around on you has consequences. There isn’t a second pass for her disloyalty!
Then he wrangled it in, he’d confirm what Giuseppe said before putting their marriage to the guillotine.
Alfonzo looked up and met wretched expressions. The shine to his wife’s eyes cut him to the bone. She was his ride or die, that’s what she said.
Why the doubt when she’d given him no reason?
The sore topic hadn’t died. Giuseppe had resurrected the dead.