Animus

by S. W. Frank

  Sergio noticed the color but what the hell was a panificio? “Yeah.”

  “The owner opens at one o’clock, but he’s a sucker for lost tourists. Knock on the door; ask can he tell you how to get to this address. He’ll invite you in, offer you a taste of his bread and cheese and you will accept. Take a seat and when he turns around cap him…in the back of the head.”

  Sergio grimaced. “Ew, what happens when the shit splatters?”

  “Angle to the middle of the skull, keep a distance and step to the side after you fire.”

  Sergio noticed his Uncle was emotionless when he talked about capping people.  The crazy-motherfucker was straight-up gangster! “Alright, but I don’t have a weapon.”

  Nico remedied the problem and reached inside his backpack to withdraw a lethal weapon attached with a silencer. “You know how to use a gun?”

  “Hell yeah.”

  “Good.” He tucked the gun in Sergio’s duffle bag. “Alright get going.”

  Sergio gripped the strap and opened the door, paper in hand. He had one foot on the curb when Nico said, “Oh by the way nipote, there are two cooks in the kitchen. No small talk, shoot them quickly.”

  “Well damn anybody else I gotta’ off, the dog or cat, maybe?”

  Nothing from Nico except a glare and then he dismissed Sergio by getting a newspaper from the backseat reclined and began reading. The kid asked too many questions. Nico learned this early about Sergio and the best remedy for a loquacious person is letting them yap to the air. Eventually, their mouth becomes dry and they’ll shut the hell up. When the door slammed Nico smirked. Yeah, Sergio popped a lot of mess about wanting to get paid, even going as far as saying he’d do Nico’s job for the cash. Well, he wanted to be down with the family, he’d have to survive the Vincenzo Test. If Sergio was working for the feds, killing someone would destroy his credibility and if he lacked a back-bone and chickened out, there’s no harm no foul. He hadn’t told Sergio this part; the owner of the shop was a low-tier Mafioso and his crime occurred over twenty years ago when the sonovabitch vouched for Lou!

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  CHAPTER SEVEN

   

   

   

  An indescribable elation is what Maria experienced at the sound of her daughter-in-law’s voice. “Gracias Padre for answering my prayers!” she exclaimed to the darkened room.  After talking with Selange and her son, she hurried to Sal’s bedroom to wake the child. “Your mama is on the phone.”

  Sal sat up quickly, seizing the phone, his animated expression a picture of joy. “Mom…mom…are you and dad okay?”

  Maria listened with her ear to the side of Sal’s head. She smiled hearing Selange’s voice assuring her son they were fine.

  “But, what about Uncle Geo, Shanda and the baby?” Sal asked.

  “Shanda and the baby are good. Uncle Geo’s hurt but the doctors say he’s improving,” Selange answered.

  “Is he going to die mom?”

  “That’s not something I can answer sweetheart. Your Uncle is tough, you know that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s strong.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I know you love him and the only thing we can do is send him good thoughts. This is the time when we have to be strong and believe he’ll get better. Can you think positive thoughts for Uncle Geo?”

  “Yeah, I can.”

  “Good. He loves you; he always says you’re his other son.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Love is a strong thing, it can help heal.”

  “Alright,” Sal said and then frowned. “I miss you and dad, when are you coming home?”

  “Sweetheart, I more than miss you and your brother and sisters. I want to be home right now, but I have to wait a few more days. I need to ask you to do something; do you think you can help Nana out until we get there?”

  Sal nodded. “Yeah, I can.”

  “I heard you were upset. Are you still worried?”

  “A little.”

  “That’s normal you know. When something terrible happens to people you care about it’s natural to feel concerned.”

  “I was scared.”

  “I know you were, but you have to remember not to lash out or act impulsively. People can get really hurt that way or you may get injured, do you understand love?”

  “Yes mom. I apologized to Nana and Mr. Bruno.”

  Maria caressed her grandson’s hair and held him close. Yes, he had apologized at breakfast and even shook Bruno’s hand like a little man.

  “I have my cell and it’s going to stay right here with me. Anytime you want to call, ring me, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Nana’s already contacted the school. You’re home for the week, but you still have to do the homework. You can access the assignments on the teacher’s website.”

  The whine of a kid echoed in the quiet bedroom. “Ah, come on mom. Can’t I skip homework this once?”

  “No, sweetheart. In life you’ll need to focus and push past worry to fulfill your obligations. Okay, your dad wants to speak to you. Good-night –love you much!”

  Then Alfonzo’s bass resounded and his mother’s sweet timbre was lost. “Hola hijo, you acting up?”

  “Um…no dad.”

  “Respetar siempre la abuela, no importa qué!” his dad said angrily.

  “Sí, lo siento.”

  “Next time you pull some shit like you did I’m spanking that ass hijo, comprende?”

  “I won’t do it again.”

  “Bueno. Now how’s everything going at home, fill me in?”

  Sal perked up at his dad’s more congenial tone. He liked this version better. “Allie’s sick and Angelia is really bad. Vincent is the sleepy one and Anita cooked some nasty stuff…”

  Maria rubbed her grandson’s arm smiling, her eyes closed wearily as the boy talked and talked. Sal’s words began to string together and soon the noise disappeared. Heaviness sucked at her and she gave in. Gentle snores mingled with the relief and excitement of a growing boy.

   

  ~ ~

   

  “What’s this, a convention?” Alfonzo asked his manager Matt when he entered with Tony.

  The shiny whites gleamed. “Heck, I thought you might want to see some familiar faces during your recuperation,” Matt answered. He placed the bag filled with fruit on a nightstand cluttered with cards and flowers once he noticed Alfonzo’s tray was heavily laden with gourmet food. Apparently, the boss was receiving the 5-star treatment. Alfonzo wore a blue robe with a white lapel and his slippered feet were crossed at the ankles. The Boss appeared comfortable. “I see you’re being taken care of.”

  Alfonzo’s mouth formed a frown. “I’m making do,” he said and then looked at Tony. “Did Matt kidnap you or something?”

  Tony put his hands in his pockets as he stood at the foot of Alfonzo’s bed. It was a relief to see the Boss alive and talking. “No, I wanted to come.”

  “Ass-kissing is not part of your job description, y’know.”

  Tony liked his Boss. “Not what you’ll find me doing.”

  “Good because I can’t stand ass-kissers.”

  Matt swooped in. “Yeah…yeah…yeah. So, how’s the missus?”

  “Pissed she’s away from the children, but overall she’s doing okay.”

  Tony observed the lavish surroundings. The patient rested on an over-size bed loaded with pillows. The decorative linen is the kind you find in a nice home. There was even a sitting area with a sofa and a dresser, believe it? He hadn’t seen a hospital suite like this, ever. Yup, money and clout always bought t
he best.

  There was a knock on the door and a man entered. He walked to Alfonzo and whispered in his ear. The blue eyes narrowed, and the Boss said something in another language and the man exited. Tony noticed the flickering lights in the cobalt irises. There was something going down. The Boss wasn’t as obvious as Chip; he didn’t display any of Chip’s mannerisms. No, this guy was the composed calculative sort who could change from ice to heat and you wouldn’t know it.

  Tony thought about what his woman said. Tiffany was right about one thing; he really didn’t know Alfonzo Diaz but what he did glimpse of the mafia lord he hadn’t come across in many men. Fierce honorable leaders were a dying breed.

  Matt was given a dictation and instructed to have the secretary type it out and forward to the companies. They were about to leave when Alfonzo asked for a moment alone with Tony. The manager exited and Alfonzo’s eyes bore into Tony’s. “You’re not satisfied with a desk position, am I right?”

  “The job is fine. I like it.”

  A knowing smirk ignited the blue gems. “Don’t bull-shit me Tony. When I ask a question, answer with the truth, that’s rule number one or you’ll lose credibility.”

  Tony nodded. “It’s an adjustment. I’m used to night hours and not sitting at a cubicle, it’s constraining.”

  “You did it before. I thought you might want to have your old life back…normalcy for the lady in your life.”

  The mention of the past brought a distasteful tug to Tony’s mouth. “I can’t go back to what was.”

  “You have to understand something. I’m nothing like your former employer. I gave you a chance at clean work for decent pay and you’re looking to get dirty. Tell me, why are you eager to dive into a hell pit when you have a chance at earthly redemption?”

  “I’m not seeking earthly redemption Mr. Diaz and those pits you talk about, the old me got scorched there. I’m a man who needs fire to balance the air I breathe, like you.”

  The words struck a nerve in Alfonzo and his eyes turned into serpentine slits. “No man walks unscathed where we come from hombre. Working a nine-to-five, doing things by the book for people of color doesn’t equate to a hassle free existence. The only things we have in common Tony is we suck in the same air and have dicks.”

  “I disagree.”

  Alfonzo’s eyebrow rose sharply. “Why is that?”

  “We’re doing what we do for a common purpose, and it isn’t all about money.”

  “That doesn’t make our struggles the same.”

  “You’re a realist and so am I.”

  “You know nothing about my philosophy.”

  “We’re both trapped in a society where rules are lifted when a man’s color is paper but used to incarcerate when it’s bark.”

  Alfonzo’s gaze remained level. “Being pissed at the system is your cross, not mine. There are many differences between us Tony, personally I don’t give a shit about the system it doesn’t mentally cage me.”

  Tony didn’t break eye contact. The Boss tested men daily to examine their weaknesses and flush out the strong. Had Tony faltered or delivered an incoherent response, Alfonzo would have officially closed opportunity’s door. “Spending time in a pit puts an internal mirror to the soul. The guy I tried to be isn’t who I am.”

  “Well, who the fuck are you Tony?”

  “A person who knows himself.”

  “Plenty of people doing time have life-changing epiphanies. There’s nothing special in self-reflection when looking at cell-blocks. Some find religion and others turn out worse than before. Big fucking deal!”

  “Except in my case, I stopped pretending. I’ve accepted who I am and refuse to be caged.”  

  Alfonzo stroked the prickly stubble forming on his chin. He was undecided about Tony. Words are letters put together. Many eloquent speakers dazzled the masses. Alfonzo wasn’t a fool, actions far outweighed dribble. “Tell you what Tony, go back to work at that cubicle, be on time every day and assimilate to the nine-to-five and I’ll get back to you.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Bueno. I expect you on that plane with Matt this afternoon, comprende?”

  “No problem.”

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  CHAPTER EIGHT

   

   

   

  The visitor coming through the door received a warm welcome by way of a smile and his name exclaimed, “Tyree!”

  Tyree walked to his mentor’s bedside and hugged her gently. He put his face in her neck and closed his eyes at the surging emotions rising to the surface. “You’re okay…thank God…you’re okay Mrs. Diaz.”

  Her chin was on his shoulder and a hand rubbed his back. A spiritual sister comforting a worried brother is the innocent sight. “I’m okay, it’s good to see you Tyree, and I’m fine.”

  He pulled back and thoroughly examined her with his eyes. “Were you shot?”

  “No.”

  “Do you mind if I review your chart?”

  “Go right ahead Dr. Davis.”

  He found it and didn’t bother to sit as he read the medical reports, tests and daily notes. He didn’t need to understand Italian, most of the diagnostic tools; forms and abbreviations were universally the same. He saw she had surgery to remove a tubal pregnancy, an orbital contusion due to blunt trauma and no secondary findings. He flipped up a sheet and squinted to read the medical doctors’ comments. Unremarkable it showed after the morning exam. “You’re getting released tomorrow.”

  “Um-hum.”

  He returned the chart and flopped in the chair. Ah, he felt so much better. “I couldn’t get here fast enough. The flight seemed forever.”

  “Aw it’s really nice to see you but you shouldn’t have come all this way Tyree. What about your residency?”

  “I took an emergency leave. It’s not a problem.”

  The smile was brilliant. “And the fiancée, where is she?”

  “Home.”

  “I’m invited to the wedding, right?”

  “Of course.” He grinned. Then he sat straight. “How is Mr. Diaz?”

  “He’s doing better.”

  “Is he in ICU?”

  “No, he’s stable. He’s right across if you want to say hello.”

  The words hadn’t hung in the air for longer than a minute when Alfonzo entered accompanied by an IV pole. “What’s up Tyree?”

  Tyree stood immediately. “How are you Mr. Diaz?”

  “Asi-asi.” The inquisitive eyes went from his wife to the tall young man who wore a nervous expression. He put Tyree at ease. “It’s nice you’d travel here to check on my wife doctor, but she’s in excellent hands.”

  “I…I…um had to see for myself. The news was that a lot of people were killed and…”

  “They usually exaggerate, you know that.”

  “Yeah, but…”

  “But, you wanted to see for yourself.” Alfonzo completed the sentence. He’d dropped his guard once and twice wasn’t happening. He believed in Selange, damn straight but he had to put every motherfucker on notice, step out of line and I won’t care who you are, I’ll slice your goddamn neck!

  Selange gave him one of her looks instructing him to play nice. Nah, Tyree wasn’t a kid anymore, he was an adult and he had a dick. “Come walk with me Doc,” Alfonzo ordered.

  Tyree followed Alfonzo out the door and Selange shook her head. She hoped Alfonzo didn’t intimidate Tyree. Poor guy! Anyway, she didn’t have time to worry about it, because another set of visitors streamed in with flowers and lipstick smiles. Her girls were here. Amelda, Lucia, Crystalia and Renalda, whose husband was wounded but survived with nothing more th
an a broken leg from a fall down the stairs converged upon her bed and began their fussing, pulling out brushes and commenting on how they came to cheer her up and fix her hair.

  Selange accepted their trivialities, aware this was their coping mechanism in an attempt to retain normalcy after the chaos. However, Selange’s thoughts wandered to the dead and she prayed for Giuseppe and her confused friend.

   

   

  ~ ~

   

   

   

  “So, how’s the medical field treating you Tyree?” Alfonzo asked as they rode the elevator up one floor.

  Tyree concealed his nervousness. Alfonzo was a tall strapping dude, and imposing. It didn’t help he was flanked by equally fearsome men who could snap a man’s neck with little effort. “It’s good, sir.”

  “Sir.” Alfonzo gave a sneer type grin. “Shit am I that old?”

  “No, sir…I mean Mr. Diaz.”

  A cling signaled the door’s opening. “Relax; I’m not going to kick your ass or anything unless you behave inappropriately toward my wife.”

  Tyree stayed in step as Mr. Diaz exited, maneuvering the rolling IV poll without getting the tubing tangled or twisted. The hospital tag with his name was a plastic bracelet on his thick wrist. The white stood out against the gold hued skin. He held himself stiffly, which Tyree suspected was due to his wounds, possibly a fracture. The bandage on his neck probably covered the site of a penetrating wound. The way he held his arm, he’d gotten hurt there as well. “No…no…way. I’m engaged. I’d never disrespect you or her, sir.”

  “Good to know you have scruples. A lot of guys don’t.”

  They passed nurses and doctors with anxious expressions. “Buongiorno Signore Diaz.”

  Alfonzo gave curt tilts. His mannerisms were respectful although Tyree had a feeling he hated hospitals and being confined as a patient irritated him even more.  He was a man accustomed to freedom and idleness even out of necessity stirred a volatile temper hidden beneath civility. They entered a patient’s room who quickly sat forward. The swaddles of bandages on his head and the cast on his leg did not deter him from greeting Alfonzo with deference. “Benvenuto, è un onore Don Giacanti.”

  “Buongiorno Don Tomasina, cómo stai?”

  “Buono. Grazie,” the patient answered.

  Alfonzo ambled to the patient’s bedside, placed his hand upon the rail. A subtle action, certainly many visitor’s had done, except how many had their ring kissed?