Adversary

by S. W. Frank

“I asked if you need money to go shopping.”

  “Oh, I didn’t hear you.”

  He made a left when the directional arrow went green. “Whatever you were thinking must be really deep. Care to share?”

  “Tony you know how I get,” she covered with a smile. “After those children I sometimes zone out. But a nice shopping trip on your dime will give me renewed energy.”

  “Shameless shopaholic,” he said with a lopsided grin. “I’m encouraging you to shop till you drop aren’t those words women like to hear?”

  “Nobody but commercials use that phrase. We just do our thang!”

  Tony shook his head. “You finally get to meet the boss’ wife. I think you’ll hit it off.”

  Tiffany wasn’t smiling. “So, this event has something to do with your employer?”

  “Yeah, that casino opening. Music, celebrities, food…and I know how you like to get dressed up.”

  “Yeah, but it depends on where I’m going and the company.”

  “Sounds like you have a problem. Is it my boss or is there a problem going with me?” He was at a red light. A busy Brooklyn street during rush hour where everybody took shortcuts to avoid the congestion of the main road. Kind of defeated the purpose though since most drivers discovered the route.

  “You know I don’t have a problem with you, it’s just I don’t know if I want to be around people that may get me killed simply because I’m in their presence.”

  “Oh okay. That’s cold but if that’s the way you feel you don’t have to attend I’ll go alone.” He snickered. “But if one of those single women ask me to dance, do I have to call home and ask or will you be okay with me showing off my dance moves?”

  “Oh hell no I’m going,” she said rising to the bait. She’d have to spend a lot of his money though to buy a proper outfit. She’d seen pictures of Mrs. Diaz in a recent on-line magazine. That woman had style, not to mention she was a knock-out. She lifted her chin and placed her hand on Tony’s thigh. She’d go all right and properly represent her man but he was going to pay for the privilege with that credit card of his. “I’m going to need your card.”

  Tony’s smile widened as her hand slid in his pants. “Didn’t I already say I got you?” They were honked when he hadn’t moved the car after the light turned green a second ago. He was getting hard and stepped on the gas, wiggling his ass in the seat at her rubbing action down there.

  “Yes, you did but here’s the thing.”

  Hell, she had loosened his belt, unzipped him and his dick sprung free. “Damn woman, what?”

  Her head descended to his lap. There was a click when she took of her seatbelt. “I’m soothing you now because when you see the charges you might have a fit.”

  He nearly crashed into the back of a car when her lips attached to his vertical penis and she began sucking with such intensity he belt out, “Spend the whole damn thing woman…bankrupt my ass!” Although this wasn’t likely to happen but he was sure she’d spend a good penny. Black Card’s do have limits, nothing’s limitless but time.

   

   

  ***

   

   

  The water when night’s over the horizon is a murky black color like oil. From the pier near the shuttered warehouse Tony had a view of the adjacent facility at the far end of the unloading docks. The floodlights he noticed were strategically off in certain spots, notably in front of the warehouse where suited men stood. Cars were rolled out, shiny luxury cars in different colors, perhaps seven so far from his count. He lifted the camera and adjusted the setting to night and placed the view finder to his eye. Twisting the attachment lens he zoomed in on the figures and took pictures without aid of a flashbulb. This camera was the kind used by Special Ops, how’d he know, he read a lot. It was in the office, locked away with other items for use in the field. Hand selected surveillance equipment courtesy of Nico. The guy knew his shit, up and down; the man never missed a beat. He didn’t see him in quite a while and the last time he had, he almost didn’t recognize him. The guy was clean-shaven, bald as a baby and in construction gear. He thought he was one of the workers on the site and that’s what he supposed Nico wanted everyone to think. It’s easy to maneuver around people when you can fit in like that.

  Tony lowered the camera when one of the figures opened the trunk of a car and then it shut. They walked in the warehouse leaving look-outs and stayed inside for less than twenty minutes. An exchange must be taking place out of sight. Tony wouldn’t have considered anything clandestine occurring from the looks of it. Dock workers, clipboards, warehouse security and unloading were commerce. Goods of every kind came in by ship except instinct told him there was more going on than importation of cars.

  One man exited with two briefcases. The camera was in his hand again and each step the man took was captured on film. Even when he boarded the vessel, the name of the craft was documented for extra efficiency. Clanging of lifts and pay loaders moving crates on to other boats continued. Nothing unusual in any of this to the novice viewer, but Tony sensed he was here because there was major trouble that loomed. 

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  CHAPTER FIVE

   

   

   

  “Hmmm,” Alfonzo mumbled in his sleep before twisting on his side. The vibrations in his head had escalated. His hand went inside his shorts for warmth as he groaned irritably at a cool draft that suddenly fanned his uncovered torso. Then a loud thump jostled him awake and he bolt upright wondering whether Palermo was experiencing an earthquake similar to what occurred in the north. Palermo is on the southern end, Sicily is what Nico always scowled. Proud Sicilian’s usually do get mad when outsiders don’t recognize the importance of North and South. But to Alfonzo it was Italy just separated by names and egos.

  Alfonzo shook his head at the sounds shaking the walls. It's no wonder the motherfucker couldn’t keep furniture; Giuseppe liked rough sex and apparently Shanda did too.  Thank goodness I’m going home in the morning, Alfonzo scoffed. Sergio that lucky sonovabitch was probably sleeping like a baby in Nico’s guest room, maybe he should have stayed there, too.

  The dark room had a thin stream of light. He thought he closed the door before he fell asleep. Apparently not. He suddenly noticed the child clutching his blanket like Linus from the Peanuts cartoon.

  Carlo’s face was pressed to the floor, thumb in his mouth and sucking hard. “Hey, got scared?” Alfonzo asked sliding off the bed to the carpet to lift the boy to his lap.

  Giuseppe’s face he had. The cherry lips, strong nose, tufts of rich black hair and piercing blue eyes.  The boy’s skin had lost the infant pallor but he remained quite pale in comparison to Giuseppe or Shanda. In fact if not for the Giuseppe resemblance he’d swear this wasn’t his brother’s kid. But colorless or not Carlo was loved.  He removed the finger from the child’s mouth. “None of that shit. I get you’re scared but that’s your mommy and daddy making out.”

  Alfonzo rose with the child and sprawled out with Carlo on his chest. He rubbed his back in circles like he did with his youngest when they fought sleep. Carlo relaxed; he felt the small body go limp and stubby arms spread to his flank.

  Alfonzo’s eyes closed, thinking of his family, wondering what they were doing and ached to see his children and hold his wife in his arms. Days apart, calls across an ocean when he needed comfort had taken a toll. He fought demonic urges that snuck in sometimes during weak moments. Many times he questioned sanity or cursed temptation but swore to stay faithful. He promised, gave his word at the altar and these second chances don’t come around for many. Burned by the memories of the faceless women’s lips on his body, heat and lust without a soul connection he twitched. A liar he’d been before, asking for trust when he shattere
d it long ago with liquored nights in luxury places when associates bring women to please guests. Oral sex he deemed harmless when his dick leaped to feel relief as women licked him clean. Selange suspected, hadn’t she? She had an inkling of his misdeeds as women often do. Premonitions are the instinctive feelings gained from context clues. What had it been that unveiled him? Perhaps the answer is as simple as she was not stupid. But, he’d convinced himself blow-jobs meant nothing with the cloak of dishonesty called excuse and treated her like she was. Justifications abound for his actions; harmless, meaningless are the words when love is not involved. Injurious to the heart is the hypocrisy to demand fidelity from his wife without disclosure of his wrongs. Selange was a good woman; she’d always been that until he stole with sugary lies a trusting portion of a loving sweet heart. When he said he hadn’t slept with other women, deep within she knew he had given part of himself away and could never get it back. Not many times, yet once is enough. Like Giuseppe he’d thought his Prima Donna was happy but her soul had cried loneliness in the dark. He did not want to be his father, nor lie in bed waiting for death loveless.

  Second chances.

  To be an honorable man.

  A faithful husband.

  A dutiful son.

  A loving father.

  To dance with joy.

  Wars raging in the heart do not make for peaceful homes. Love is what he needed. Fighting and battling turmoil isn’t what he wanted. Tired, clearly focused, he disciplined his soul. He wasn’t going to ever disappoint his babe; he was willingly devoted. Commit whole-heartedly is what he did, clamped his soul to the woman nurturing his children during his absence, trusting his flesh did not lead him astray and he heard her. “Be good”, she said.

  “Sí, estoy bien nena.”

  Romantic songs played in his head like an old juke box. He began to sing himself to sleep with a lullaby dedicated to the other half of his heart on a different shore:

  ‘…Quisiera estar siempre a tu lado

  Huir de todo mal, de todo mal,

  De tu cuerpo un esclavo,

  Y creo que te he demostradoque,

   

  Estoy enamorado, Simplemente,

  Te lo quiero confesar, Te lo queria decir,

  Totalmente ilusionado,

  Me la paso pensandote,

  Nunca voy a soltarte,

   

  Estoy enamorado,

  Te lo quiero confesar,

  Totalmente ilusionado,

  Me la paso pensandote, Todo el tiempo,

  Nunca voy a soltarte…’

  “Yeah babe, I want to be by your side forever to escape all that’s bad. Yep, I’m a slave of your body, I confess it to you. Yep, I’m in love with you…estoy enamorado…I confess…I’ll never let you go.” He mumbled before his mouth went slack when sleep grabbed him and silenced his voice. Across the sea into her arms he went, to drift like a feather. Home is where his soul found peace.

  Selange.

  When the walls shook he did not wake, nor did Carlo. Both were wrapped in protective arms.

   

   

  ***

   

   

  “I’m glad you came,” Lucia greeted with a smile that made Sergio warm over. He’d told Nico he met a woman and needed to get laid. No argument from Uncle, just a wave of the hand and the car keys tossed across the room with a warning, “Use protection and be careful!”

  That was an hour ago and now here he stood in Lucia’s luxury apartment facing the sea in Torre di Mondello. She stepped away to allow him entry and padded barefoot across Slovenian oak floors to the spacious living room, where she sat pulling her legs up on the cushions. “Come, sit.”

  Sergio joined her and looked around, impressed by the upscale digs. “I like your place.”

  “Grazie. Why did you take so long?” she asked.

  “It’s hard getting away from family.”

  “You were afraid to come.”

  Sergio didn’t say it, but hell yes he was scared. There are her brother Matteo on one side and his crazy cousin Giuseppe on the other. He had Lucia’s number for a while, months actually. They’d met at the hospital after the terrible shootings. She was on her cell phone in one of the waiting rooms looking all cute and shit crying to somebody on the other line. He didn’t know who she was then, he was just being a gentleman when he asked was she all right after she hung up. She was swearing in Italian, which he learned later were directed at Amelda.  Sophie and Amelda had banned her from Giuseppe’s room. This was the day he came with Nico to see Alfonzo after Giuseppe went psycho and put Alfonzo back in the hospital. They started talking; hit it off immediately because they were kindred spirits.

  Outcasts. 

  They talked many times on the phone. Secretly of course, the family had enough drama. Hooking up with Lucia would only add to the internal fighting. He was apprehensive about going into a relationship with Giuseppe’s ex. The age gap wasn’t a concern, hell he wasn’t a kid and she wasn’t that much older, besides she wasn’t attached, no kids, big tits and a slim waist which turned him on. Those pretty eyes, lips and the accent were a major bonus. Lucia was the full package if only Matteo and Giuseppe weren’t involved.

  He sat down, stretching his legs, feeling awkward. He was accustomed to girls and not self-assured women. “I don’t know about this Lucia. There’s too many reasons to just stay friends.”

  “Then why did you come?”

  Sergio answered, “Because you told me to.”

  She gave a small teeth pretty smile. “If I tell you to kiss me, will you do it?”

  Not getting laid the other night made the answer easy. “Of course.”

  “Kiss me Sergio.”

  He chuckled nervously.

  “Kiss me,” she repeated and when he hesitated she sat forward and put her face to his. Close and teasing she placed the tip of her tongue to the bottom of his mouth. She licked up and slid like licorice through the parted mouth that suddenly opened.

  Her kiss made him hot, but then she suddenly stopped. “What?” he asked when she stood.

  “Have you come to fuck me Sergio?”

  “I came to talk.”

  She giggled and she looked very young. In fact she could easily pass for a college girl. “No talk, we have talked many times.” Lucia turned, fingering him to follow like a boss. “Come.”

  Sergio sat there with a quizzical expression. Was she playing Simon Says?

  She stopped as she pulled open the terrace doors and looked back. “Venite. I do not bite, come.”

  Sergio stood and followed the woman whose ass swayed in beckoning. She leaned on the balcony. Rubber sole shoes gripped the travertine tiles when he walked to where she watched the planes in the sky. The fresh air fanned his body as he stood directly behind the woman and he stared out over the city. He could see the lights of Palermo. The open view from her penthouse was breathtaking. The sea blinked sparkles of reflective lights.

  “Bellissimo, no?” she asked as wind blew her hair to the side. He looked beyond the buildings to the waters, seductively lulled by the night lights and ambience.

  Lucia’s silk robe lifted and he glimpsed the firm round bottom. “It’s nice.” Pantiless, alluring and exotic, he could not deny she was sexy and said the hell with Giuseppe and Matteo. He touched her and she leaned forward, poking her buttocks out. She said nothing, just looked out over the city like a model in a sexy lingerie spread. His previous words about not hooking up and being friends were killed when he stripped from the waist down. Hard and eager was the penetration, satisfying was the thrill. He leaned over her like a cover and warmed her with heated pushes, holding her waist and stomach, enjoying the pleasure so much he spread her legs wider, going lower he went and pumping up. Sergio spurt a week of frustration within Lucia and she moaned for more with her suckling pussy.

  The tempo slowed, she stroked his thigh, said something he didn’t understand that seduced
his mind. Smack-talking Sergio was speechless as he inhaled the feminine perfume so light it rafted with the air. He kissed Lucia’s shoulder, even liking the taste of her skin. He gripped her breasts with both hands to pump furiously within the folds of her flesh as the twinkling stars were nature’s symphony for friends that became lovers. Seduced by lovely visions he made-love to Lucia on the balcony on a starry night, not once but many times and fell asleep in her bed smiling, losing track of time.

   

   

   

   

   

  CHAPTER SIX

   

   

   

  The city, ah, Uptown, Westside, Eastside, north or south, Harlem had a unique and steady beat, like a heart which resonates internally. The drumming is real strong. Over asphalt and concrete, the footsteps of diversity pound the streets. Suits and jeans, sneakers and shoes, white, black and in between lived in unity. Ask any Harlemites passing what city they rep and guaranteed they’d go hard. Strong is the voice you’d hear saying, “Uptown, Harlem, U.S.A!”

  That’s pride. Nuyorican’s have the same love for their homeland. There’s a word, criollo used to describe the Puerto Rican island’s culture and Harlem fits the culture bill, hell this is the place which birthed a renaissance. Musicians, artists or anybody looking for a down-to-earth place to chill gathered uptown to breathe the vibe. Some didn’t last, though. The place could be hard-core for the sheltered dreamers unaccustomed to ‘realness’ as they say. The staggering junkie or the assembly of smack talking jovial men can scare away fragile people. Sometimes, the pushy brother peddling his wares or the incense selling Jamaican with those glorious locks isn’t what they envision. Perhaps the glitz of midtown is best suited for snowflakes because they dissolve with a little rain. Unauthentic, replicas, copies, unoriginal and knock-offs is the shit fake people liked.

  Suits and shoes, alabaster faces with briefcases provide an illusion of safety. Stuck on the exterior are how some people operate. They’re the ones who have to venture inside to learn they were duped. They walk fast; eye to the ground, bundled in false security is how some coped. Fluid mobile limbs and eye-contact when passing a motherfucker is what Alfonzo deemed respect. Hand out that flyer to the party on Friday night hombre, fist pump with pride, do the Harlem Shake when Raggaeton and Rap music blare from cars. That’s a Harlemites way. Staying in tune with the pulse of the street is the way a Nuyorican Kingpin born in Harlem survived.