by Frank, S. W.
“No, no.” They mumbled as they watched Vincent expose the man’s chest and carve through it like a skilled surgeon with the sharp knife. When they saw the heart come out, they grimaced.
“Okay, moving right along. Dominick is no longer a problem, we agree?”
A chorus of, “Yes. We agree.”
“Our only problem is ourselves. Becoming ambitious and double-crossing each other makes for bad business. Then you don’t know who to trust, isn’t that right?”
More agreement.
“We want to be able to trust each other, is all I’m saying. Why have this violence when we can work together, right?”
They were taking him very seriously now. Alfonzo gave them a mental picture of what would happen if they pulled one of Dominick’s stunts.
“Take Boris, here. He’s Dominick’s right hand man. Does everything Dominick asks like a well-trained dog, isn’t that right, Boris?”
The man didn’t answer.
“Did you kill my friend up in Harlem?”
Boris refused to answer.
Alfonzo unsheathed his Bowie knife, “See Boris, he’s tough. Not a snitch. I respect that in a man but what I don’t respect is killing innocent people.”
He took one step, bent over and slit Boris’ throat. A geyser of blood shot out from the severed artery. Now, they began to understand the necessity of the jumpsuits. Alfonzo didn’t want to ruin their fine threads.
“We don’t kill innocent people, do we guys?”
Acquiescence came from the men.
He walked to the industrial sink and turned on the water. The pipes kicked and banged, sending pressurized rust colored water from the spout. Less than a minute later, the water became an opaque color and he cleaned his knife, dried it on a clean part of his pant leg and put it away.
Nico’s eyes were on Brettoli. Without a word, he reached to his waist for his Glock. In the fraction of a second he discharged the weapon. The bullet struck where he aimed, right above the bridge of Brettoli’s nose and the impact sent him careening o the floor. The other men scattered, their expressions incredulous. Nico aimed again, the next shot was dead center at the throat of Brettoli’s Capo.
Alfonzo spun around at the shots, squinted at the bodies on the floor then asked, “What happened, Nico?”
“Brettoli doesn’t have a granddaughter.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Alberti placed a hand on Alfonzo’s shoulder smiling, “Visit. Do not be a stranger.”
“Maybe I will, Uncle. You Italians keep too many secrets. However, I am grateful you survived the massacre. Your secret was well kept.”
Alberti told him the truth last night and Alfonzo was not surprised. No, he wasn’t shocked about anything anymore. Certainly, there were more secrets to come from the old man. For now, he accepted what was and didn’t look too far ahead.
“When it is necessary.” He reached in his pocket and removed the ring Alfonzo had given him some time ago. “This belongs to you.”
Alfonzo stared at the jeweled crest, “No, it’s yours. I suspect it always was.”
“I will hold it in case you have a change of heart.”
“I won’t.”
“If you do, I will have it.”
Alfonzo grinned. The man was persistent and wise. “Whatever, take care.”
He exited the yacht and hurried to the awaiting car parked near the pier. He was inside now, beside Nico, anxious to get home to his family and to finish the game of chess with Sal, who Domingo was bringing home in the morning.
“How long are you going to fake retirement?” Alfonzo asked his old friend.
Nico scoffed at the assumption he was faking, “I have a family you know and a chunk of paradise wrapped up in one.”
Alfonzo settled in the seat as the car rolled over the wooden planks. “I had a good friend once who always had my back growing up. You may have seen us, watched us from wherever the hell you were. His name was Danté, remember?”
Nico did. “Yes.”
“He and I were two crazy teenagers,” Alfonzo laughed, “and I don’t think I appreciated how much of a friend he truly was until he died.”
“Happens.”
Alfonzo swiveled his head to examine Nico’s face. “I guess what I’m saying Nico is thanks. You’ve been a friend to me and my family and I appreciate it. Don’t be a stranger. You’re always welcome.”
Nico’s eyes were dark and unreadable. A friend doesn’t sleep with his friends’ wife. Of course he would not say it, but nevertheless, Alfonzo was mistaken. “Thanks.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know you are.” Nico responded. He wanted to get out the car and walk. Clear his mind and reset it but they were flying to Puerto Rico together. Alfonzo had already instructed the pilot to take Nico anywhere he wanted to go. The only place he wanted to go was home. He needed to purge himself of Selange, cut her out of his heart before she distracted his thoughts and he considered impossibilities. He could not have Selange, his life was with Ariana. He knew this, accepted it but the fact remained, Selange commandeered his heart. Nico’s bruised lips tightened. No regrets.
The men rode in silence to the airport.
During the course of the week, several of Dominick’s associates were delivered packages by UPS with a fictitious location, Anarchy Florida and the name of D. Fiorello. When the members of specific organized crime families received it, they found inside, a note which read, OUT OF BUSINESS and a severed finger. The message was not lost on them. Don Alfonzo Diaz, the son of Luzo Palazzo and the yet to be disclosed grandson of the most infamous Mafia Kingpin, Sergio Giacanti had returned with a vengeance.
Kiki received an e-mail, it said; WE KNOW DIFFERENT, with a heart shape punctuation. A photo attachment included a close-up of someone holding a bloody heart. She smiled, deleted the picture and whispered, “Thank you Alfonzo…thank you.” Then she closed her eyes and slept.
Senator Liebowitz received a call at her home. She hoped it wasn’t one of the staff, she was in mourning and on bereavement leave. She took a sip of coffee and leaned her elbows on the counter, “Yes?”
“Senator?”
She didn’t recognize the male voice and pulled the phone away from her ear to glimpse the caller ID but it displayed only a series of zeros. Odd, her home number was unlisted, certainly this could only be someone she knew, then again there were ways to obtain unlisted numbers. Hackers, bill collectors, government agencies did it all the time. “How can I help you?” She asked.
“A friend sends a message. Take solace, mothers.”
The phone clicked and she inhaled. Tears came and she slapped them from her cheeks. It was done. She would not regret her decision; Victoria meant the world to her. Life was empty without her loving daughter. No, she would never regret her pact to get the deed done.
Alfonzo and Sal were home. They were a family, complete and happy. She watched Alfonzo and Sal play chess. Allie was more interested in running back and forth until she tired. She flopped on the floor near her father’s leg, tugging on the hem of his pants saying, “Daddy watch me!”
She was up and running again at full speed and dropped on the floor panting from her toddler race, laughing loudly in fun.
“You’re funny Allie.” Alfonzo chuckled.
Sal didn’t find her amusing. She distracted them from the game.
Soon the children were asleep in their beds and Alfonzo was out of the house, at a ‘meeting’ not far from the grounds.
She decided to retire early. She would need the rest, Allie was in the ‘exerting independence phase’ and everything seemed to be, “No”, or “I can do it.”
Totally like her mom.
She showered, turned on music and climbed in bed.
Her cell rang; she rolled over to answer, “Hello?”
“How are you?” Nico asked.
“Confused.”
“About?”
“Why I can’t stop thinking about you.”
H
e scoffed, “I know the feeling. Where’s the hubby?”
“A meeting.”
“Selange, you’re a very special woman. I hope you know that.”
“What’s so special about a wife who cheats on her husband?”
“What we did doesn’t make you less special. You love your husband, I’ve seen you guys together and that’s a special love. You’re meant for each other.”
“I do love him.”
“Of course you do.”
Her eyes were in the distance, off somewhere far away, wondering when she lost herself or how she could break her marriage vows so easily and the answer didn’t come.
“Still there, Selange?”
“Yes,” she paused. “Nico, I’m sorry I ruined our friendship.”
“Hey, no regrets, besides, it isn’t ruined; it’s just evolved like one of those Pokemón.”
She chuckled despite her somber mood, “Your children, right?”
“Who else?”
“Nico?”
“Talk, I’m listening.”
She closed her eyes then opened them again to stop herself from crying. Hearing his voice was painful because she could not touch or see him. She had to tell him the secret of her heart, “I love you and it hurts because I love my husband, too.” She sniffled, “But I don’t know what to do about it.”
She did not hear his pain but it was there, hidden beneath the surface. “You have a life with him and my life is elsewhere. You said I never say good-bye, I’m saying it now.”
“Forever?”
“Forever is a long time, kid. I’ll have my ears open, don’t worry.” He said reassuringly because it was true. If there was trouble he’d be there, but for now he had to stay away. “I can’t come between you and Alfonzo. It’s best we maintain distance. In time you’ll understand the wisdom of it.”
“Nico, the way you made love to me was it a lie?”
His deep voice answered with the truth, “Nothing about it was a lie.”
“Tell me, what it was then?”
He exhaled sharply. Selange had no idea of his sacrifice. Not being able to touch her intimately was going to be hell. Death seemed trivial in comparison. Now, he had to walk back into his life, go through the door and look at his wife with lying eyes. In order to protect Selange, he’d withstand any torture; die with what they’d done –because love sometimes is a sacrifice. “A moment we shared the same fantasy. Alfonzo’s the man for you. He’s the guy you’ll love forever, I’m not.”
“I’ll miss you.”
“Feeling’s mutual. Good-bye, Selange.”
She sat there. A part of her heart was ripped out. She hadn’t expected this final farewell to be as devastating. It hurt, extremely bad.
She placed the cell on the nightstand and laid her head gently on the pillow. She realized the only remedy for being in love with two men is to choose one.
Alfonzo slid in bed and wrapped his arms around his wife. Soft music drifted in the dark and he grinned. Otis Redding’s, ‘Sitting on the Dock of the Bay’, crooned ever so softly.
“Oldies, huh?”
She lay on her side facing him, with sad eyes. “My mom loved this song. She said she could visualize sitting on a dock watching the tide roll away.”
“I know you miss her, babe. I know.” His palm gently slid along her arm.
Her mom listened to that song over and over again after her husband, Selange’s father died. Selange was so sick of hearing it every day after school; she’d escape to her bedroom and blast upbeat music just to drown it out. But she understood her mother’s pain, yes, the pain when a lover is gone. The melancholy song helped her, too. Nico was gone, not dead, but a departure nonetheless, and she was missing him, watching him roll away in her mind on the tides. Dear Nico, her friend, the one who walked into danger and suffered injury because of her. The strong, loyal protector who made her laugh and offered words of wisdom when she needed them most was gone.
Gone.
Rolling away.
He kissed her and she stiffened, bringing a frown to the handsome face. An eyebrow arched at her reaction, “Babe, are you mad at me?”
Selange checked herself. She pushed Nico to a small corner and focused on the wonderful man touching her with those pools of blue fire. “Of course not.”
“Is everything okay, then?”
“Everything’s good.” She touched his chest. It was solid, defined and warm. An awesome chest, one she adored.
“I apologize I couldn’t get here sooner. I wanted to but it was serious business I had to take care.” He put a fist to his heart, “You’re my heart, mi corazón and when you hurt I feel the pain here.” He put his face close to hers, “How can I heal the pain, Selange?”
“You already have.”
He dropped down in a recumbent position at her side, emotionally in excruciating pain that she could not see. Selange spiritedly raised herself and straddled him, bringing a smirk to his mouth. He settled his head into the pillow giving her all the control she wanted, temporarily.
Her lips were on his chest, with pecking kisses, then sucking ones as it moved down to the most excited area of his flesh. Those lips of hers around him, gliding from the tip of his corona to the base of his penis brought a broader smile. His hands stroked her shoulders, massaged her scalp and he grunt when he felt the electric twitters along his staff. Her outstretched arms were on his torso and he took her hands tugging her up, watching her face with a smile. She knew what he wanted and his hands helped her, settling on her hips as she descended over his thighs. She squeezed and held his penis with such affection, his chest heaved and the rotating motions caused her to respond enthusiastically.
Selange’s mouth crushed his and she moaned when his head lifted and his tongue forced her mouth wider and the tables were turned. His hands moved up and down the slope of her hips and his rotating thrusts caused a series of pleasurable moans. He conducted her body and it responded willingly to this rhythm. A melody only they shared. Her stomach flexed inward and her hips swiveled in hypnotic seduction as they danced.
Her lips moistened, the natural juices melting her, forcing her to suckle his tongue hard, taking refuge in a safe place before she drowned in ecstasy and confessed her disgrace.
Funny, how first kisses and the first everything’s are memories branded in the mind. Upon their first kiss, Alfonzo tasted like Mentos. She inhaled because she could smell and taste it in this passionate moment. Nico, too was a first, she recalled his strong hands and the way he consumed her, sucking the air from her body, making her forget the dark and giving her light to see. He took care of her and gave her the gift of his love at a cost. They both did. She had to forget Nico, she must. Alfonzo was warm flesh and being with him, the energy of their aura established the truth. She could never give him up, they were soul-mates and he was her forever love.
He cupped her face, as she moaned for him. The strength of his passion was from the soul of a man deeply in love with his wife. The words were coming, “Oh….Alfonzo…”
His mouth was on her neck, licking, sucking making her confess to him. Her head slumped toward him under the heaviness of the euphoric emotions elicited by his internal caresses. The stroking of her skin, the feel of Alfonzo’s mouth and the overwhelming sensual power of him were causing her to come undone.
It came, a whisper, then a scream and he held her, then waited for the orgasm to subside before chuckling, “Damn, I love you too!”
She breathed air across his chest as she lay there, satiated and spent. She closed her eyes, willed away the guilt. Alfonzo was holding her, rubbing her hair oh so tenderly. Tears came and when he felt them on his body he brought her up, they were face to face. His eyes were probing, “Selange, talk to me. What’s wrong with you?”
She was a mess, sobbing hard, sputtering like a damn fool, talking truths but not the truth, “I miss my parents, I miss them and I love you so much but I wish I had my mother. I need her.”
His hold became
iron-clad and he let her cry. His mouth was atop her head. The warmth of his body bringing peace. She fought through the guilt, gave-up the battle with her conscience as Nico had warned and lay quietly in his arms. Alfonzo loved her and Nico. She did not want to be his greatest disappointment and betrayal. His reaction might be a violent one. She lay there in silence.
Omertá.
Yes, she’d remain silent. She loved Alfonzo and wanted no harm to come to Nico. Silence.
Omertá, was the way!
**************************************************
We must atone for our sins. Kismet, fate, karma, whatever you prefer, there is a penance for our wicked deeds. Read who will pay the ultimate price as the ALFONZO saga continues in the next installment, ATONEMENT!
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Book club Discussion
1. Who is your favorite and least favorite character, why?
2. Is Alfonzo making the right choice by returning to the mob?
3. Is Selange a good mob wife?
4. Do you think Emilio and Jessica make a good couple, why or why not?
5. Do you think Nico violated an oath by sleeping with Selange?
6. Will Selange crack under the pressure and break her code of silence?