by S. W. Frank
Thank goodness the skank wasn’t in her face when she did it because she may have found herself on the ground!
Nico waved a hand in front of his wife’s face. “Houston, are you there?”
“Oh shut up and go,” she said while shoving him out the door.
He smiled. “Sweetheart, I’ve assigned a bodyguard to travel with you and my princess. Ti amo.”
Ari wagged her finger. “Nico, come on…listen to reason,” she sought to debate, but he had the final say.
“Not a subject of discussion. Besides he’s right over there by the gate.”
Nico waved and the man in the distance waved back.
“Damn, he isn’t kidding,” Ari said in exasperation when Nico placed the box in the backseat of his car, ducked inside and then skid away with music blaring like a darn teenager.
***
“Buongiorno,” the day watchman exclaimed as he allowed Nico’s car on to Sophie’s property.
Nico gave a slight nod before he proceeded on. The sun hadn’t fully emerged. A weak yellowish glow covered by cottony grey clouds dulled the luminosity. The weather forecasters predicted a cool and sunny day.
Nico was accustomed to odd hours; Sophie was also an early riser. Her morning ritual was to sit on the patio reading current events while eating breakfast.
During a sleepover he asked one morning why she preferred to eat outdoors in the chill and she replied, “After a night’s rest, I enjoy this part of morning best where I can sit in peace with nature, absorb knowledge and ingest nutrients that hopefully will keep me young during old age.”
Upon reflection, he grinned at the image of a greedy boy who awakened at the aroma of food while others remained in their beds. Sophie allowed him to stuff his face with creamy cannolo’s and juicy sausages. She would talk politics to a boy and then pause to ask his position on different subjects. Sophie made him think, but she always listened. She was not like the other adults, she was special. Sometimes he wished she had been his mother.
He turned off the engine and retrieved the box from the seat. At the front door of Sophie’s villa, he waved his wrist near the handle and a click sounded. The moment he entered, the smell of breakfast cooking was his welcome. The wonderful memories transformed the smile of a man to that of a child. Sophie’s love unknowingly had become his safe haven.
He dropped the carton in the foyer and then strode through the familiar rooms. The dining table had a large floral display. Roses and orchids in a Japanese vase gave the unlit space color. He strolled to the kitchen expecting to find Sophie; instead he stared at the rear of a shirtless man. This was neither Giuseppe nor an apparitional Carlo. The stranger had prepared a breakfast tray. He was in midst of pouring brew in mugs set for two, something a home invader would not do. This man was Sophie’s guest otherwise he would be dead, plain and simple.
There was a Star of David across his back to signify his Jewish heritage. He was near Nico’s height, toned and broad with dark hair mixed with fine strands of grey which at first glance appeared blonde.
“Where is Sophie?” Nico asked the stranger.
The man stopped and turned around. “Shalom.” His eyes narrowed in recognition. There wasn’t a hint of fear in the dark eyes, in fact he seemed amused. “Nicolo Serano or are you Vincenzo?”
Nico stepped forward. “I asked a question. Where is Sophie?”
“Asleep.” The man answered. “She had a very hard night.”
Nico’s face remained impassive. His memory began to form a bridge to the past. “Yosef Glavovitz, sí?”
“I am surprised you remember, since we have only met once. You and your brother were very young men. How is that other twin resting?”
Nico found the goading tasteless. Sophie’s relationship was none of his business but her choice in companionship was baffling. Yosef Glavovitz had a reputation for brutality in the bedroom and in business. This romantic gesture appeared antithetical to the pre-prison image. Nico wondered what led to this unlikely match.
“Why don’t I send you to Hades to find out?” Nico answered.
Yosef gave a sly grin. “I have been told that I am rather unorthodox. Hades, Hell, ah, there is always theological debate on the subject why the Torah does not mention such places. In Judaism our only equivalent is Gehenna. The consensus among rabbis is the Torah’s focus on the here and now is intentional. The majority believe the reason ties directly to the Israelites exodus from Egypt after their release from bondage.”
Nico snickered. “I am familiar with your religion. Let me speed you along cazzo. According to Jewish tradition God gave the Torah to the Israelites after their journey through the desert not long after they fled slavery. Egyptian society was extremely obsessed with life after death that their holiest text was called, ‘The Book of the Dead,’ and the Torah doesn’t talk about the after-life in order to distinguish itself from the Egyptians, is that it in a nutshell bastardo?”
“Very good, your summation is excellent, although not the point I sought to make. The ancient rabbis discussed Gehenna, not Hell. They said bad people after they die are believed to go to Gehenna where they are punished for leading an immoral life. However, the time a person's soul spends in Gehenna is limited to a year and the rabbis maintain that even at the very gates of Gehenna a person can repent and avoid further suffering. After being punished in Gehenna a soul is considered pure enough to enter Gan Eden. Thus my visit with Vincenzo will be brief. Fortunately, my religion allows repentance, which I am then forgiven all of my wickedness. I emerge with a purified soul. Eternal damnation I will not suffer.” The smug twist of the lip irritated Nico. “Does your Christian Hell give Vincenzo such an option?”
“What is your business with Sophie?”
“What do adults do when they enjoy each other’s company, they fuck don’t they?”
The callousness in which Yosef spoke elevated an anger that refused abatement. Nico dispensed with the chit-chat and struck the bastard in the face and then hoist him in the air like a Sumo wrestler to slam him against a wall.
Yosef’s taunts were vile and the bastard needed to mind his tongue, Nico fumed as he tried to choke the life out of him.
A sudden head-butt loosened Nico’s hand from around Yosef’s neck. The crafty fighter rained several jabs into Nico’s ribs and he coughed spit.
Pissed the elder snuck in hits, Nico seized the thick neck and flipped Yosef of his shoulder but the sonovabitch grabbed Nico likewise and caused him to stumble loaded due to extra weight.
Movement can unbalance an opponent and that’s what Nico did. He spun left and right rapidly, shoving Yosef against Sophie’s cabinets, shattering wood, and shaking walls in an attempt to break the vice.
The brawl spilled to the dining room. Yosef’s arms remained locked tight. In a powerful spin and drop Nico smashed Yosef’s body backward on to the solid table. Yosef received the brunt of the impact, which is what Nico wanted. The crash of heavy men made a thunderous noise, and demolished Sophie’s beautiful centerpiece to fragments. The hold on Nico’s throat finally released.
The table had broken in half and sliding to the floor were flowers, water and colorful porcelain. Nico rolled over Yosef, landing blows on his chest along the way.
But whatever food their feeding in jail must harden inmate’s stomachs because Yosef’s abdomen remained rigid. For Nico’s troubles a kidney punch was the answer.
Their grunts during the mayhem were muffled sounds of disciplined soldiers in battle. The combination shots were partially deflected by the elder who proved age isn’t synonymous with weakness. He weaved Nico’s punch and twisted around with an elbow jab to Nico’s spine.
The pain sparked through nerve endings before Nico shut the sensory button in his mind to off. He spotted a sharp piece of the vase and
reached for it. He went to thrust with the makeshift weapon, but Yosef kneed him in the nuts, the low-blow officially confirmed the senior man’s quickness, but Nico grinned as he flicked his wrist and showed Yosef he wasn’t fast enough. A foot sweep from Nico sent Yosef crashing to the floor.
On his back, bruised and bleeding, the Israeli fucking laughed. “Ah, I like this work-out but I fear shagetz that Sophie will have our heads.”
Nico gripped the splintered porcelain, his emotions were closed. A joke during killing was Vincent’s M.O. He was Nicolo Serano and when he brought death, there was never a smile. The Yiddish word ‘shagetz’ had a negative connotation geared at non-Jewish men. Even lying on his tush, the arrogant bastard refused to relent.
Nico spit blood, and tossed the jagged shard across the room. His hand slipped to his waist for a special blade to carve clean lines across the bastard’s face and then his throat. Death was on Nico’s mind; darkness was his vision.
“You do not want to kill me. Sophie will die and I am sure you do not want that.”
Nico twirled the knife in his fingers, he held the fallen man down with his foot. He put more weight on Yosef’s chest. “No, she’ll be fine.”
“You are wrong. Do not risk her life for your ego. I die or go missing; Sophie’s death will be on your hands.”
Blood dripped from Yosef’s fingers to Sophie’s polished floor. The beautiful floral arrangement that had been a centerpiece on a baleboste’s table lay strewn atop wood mixed with leaves and water.
Nico bent, pushing the tip of the weapon to Yosef’s face. Nico flexed to thrust inward through skin when a command from Sophie spared Yosef’s life.
“Ferma Nico! Lasciato vivere!” she shrieked, “Put the knife down.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Riding in a limo with Giuseppe and Matteo talking shop during rush hour traffic is where Alfonzo found himself. Another weekday morning in Palermo, Sicily is filled with congestion. Becoming acclimated with daily living in an environment he now considered home, wasn’t easy when palm trees and quiet is what one’s accustomed to in the morning.
The transition also included accepting the company of others when sometimes he enjoyed being alone. He had asked the driver to turn on music, however on the ride to a business meeting, family and politics was the conversation during the commute between his brother and Matteo.
Alfonzo dozed.
Giuseppe elbowed Alfonzo awake. “Has the wife kept you up during the night?”
“Geez, can’t a dude catch some shut-eye without you bugging him, damn?” Alfonzo asked sluggishly as he slid up.
Giuseppe ignored the complaint. “Did you not hear what Matteo said?”
Alfonzo rubbed his eyes. “No, what did I miss?”
Matteo grinned. He let Giuseppe break the news –again.
“Our cugino asked his sister to stand in as the Best Man.”
Alfonzo pulled a face. “So.”
“Fratellino, you would think he would ask one of us, no?”
“Sergio can do whatever he wants..”
Matteo spoke, “Sí, but this is a traditional wedding mio amico, not a circus performance. Mia madre non piace.”
“Your mother may not like it, but it’s not her wedding,” Alfonzo quipped.
“Speak to him. Explain our traditions,” Matteo requested.
Alfonzo adjusted his sleeves. Matteo sat on the opposing side in his suit, tie, impeccably dressed and annoying to an equally fashionable guy. But, what separated the men were Alfonzo’s blue eyes, tanned muscular skin and his unrivaled stature.
Alfonzo’s agitation showed. “Which ones, your family or the church?”
“Entrambi.”
Alfonzo scoffed. “Leave Sergio alone Matteo. He’s marrying Lucia. Who he asks to stand beside him is his choice. That’s the only goddamn tradition I care about, comprende?”
Giuseppe laughed. “You are not pleasant today. Now you understand Matteo, what I must deal with on a regular basis.”
“Bésame culo, hermano!” Alfonzo shot back, irritated that his brother considered him disagreeable due to his stand on the matter.
Matteo leaned forward. “Ah, Americanos. Your people spit on the traditions of others.”
“Italians are old-fashioned,” Alfonzo retorted.
“You want tua madre happy Alfonzo, sí?” Matteo questioned. His eyes were squints. “Of course you do. It is every son’s desire to ease the stress of mothers, especially as they age. Mia madre has ailing bones; her mind although not feeble, sometimes relives old ways. Giuseppe agrees there are traditions that for the sake of family we maintain for peaceable days, sí?”
Alfonzo cocked a brow and looked at Giuseppe. Sometimes he forgot he remained the outsider. He was not born or raised in Italy; there were many things about the people and their culture he had yet to learn. He checked his watch and then posed a question to Giuseppe. “Do you agree?”
“Sí fratellino. Although I find Matteo a meddling ass, I side with tradition. Sergio must become familiar with the custom of Lucia’s famiglia otherwise he will bring turmoil to his wife’s famiglia.” He grinned. “Lucia’s mama is old school Catholic as you Americanos say.”
“All right Matteo. Giuseppe will talk to Sergio and explain your antiquated customs, satisfied?”
Giuseppe gestured with his hand. “Me?”
“Since you agree with Matteo, you’re better equipped for the task. I’m staying neutral,” he replied. If he said more, they wouldn’t appreciate what ran through his mind. He wasn’t ecstatic about Sergio’s shotgun wedding. Lucia already showed and everybody wasn’t blind or stuck in the dark ages. A grown woman was pregnant, big deal. Geez, all their talk of tradition didn’t mean squat. What mattered was the couple’s happiness; otherwise the money they poured on the quickie wedding would go down the drain if they weren’t.
Coño!
“Ah you cazzo, I pray that I will not need to beat Sergio in to submission.”
“Nah, you won’t, he’ll probably ask you to take the position anyway.”
“That’s your place fratellino.”
Alfonzo disagreed. Giuseppe needed more than work to occupy his mind as he mourned. To witness love blossom when men are not seeking affection is what Sergio’s wedding represented. Shanda was gone, but life continued. This is the straw Alfonzo hoped Giuseppe grasped to assist in the oncoming days. Perhaps, he might overcome his fear of cathedrals as well.
“I can’t, I’m fine with Sergio’s choice but you guys aren’t. Therefore you’re a good fill-in.” Alfonzo reclined with a loud yawn. Crap, he was exhausted. The kids were a handful, and moving things around the villa for his wife, on top of late hours had him beat. His eyes drooped. “Anyway, I’m allergic to pretense. Now leave me alone until we get where we’re going assholes,” he said and then took a short nap.
Giuseppe kicked Alfonzo’s foot. “We have arrived!” he shouted louder than necessary.
The instigator laughed at Alfonzo’s puffy eyes and the teardrop drool that dripped when he bolt upright to ask. “What…what?”
Two hours after a cup of strong coffee, Alfonzo stood from the conference table and stretched his legs in front of the large window overlooking the piazza. He stared through glass at the old buildings filled with history as he thought about his wife. He didn’t like the drinking or the sullenness of her eyes. The strain of Shanda’s death had begun to unravel everyone around him it seemed, even Sophie didn’t appear right.
He had planned to return to Calabria, to investigate whether there was credibility to what his father wrote in his diary but didn’t have the time. The nonsense about fulfilling promises almost half a century ago was just downright ridiculous. He considered a mini vacation with the family to Hibisc
us Island or somewhere in the Caribbean Peninsula. They could use a break, even Giuseppe.
His cell rang. He reached inside his suit and took the call because he knew who it was. “Hey babe,” he said anxious to talk after days of discourse.
“Hi, do you have a moment?”
“I do. What’s going on?”
“The house is quiet without the children.”
“That’s what happens when they attend school,” he replied softly.
“I hope they do okay here. I know we agreed the twins should go to preschool but I’m having reservations.”
“They’ll be fine. They have constant security. Selange, we can’t keep our kids in a cocoon.”
“I know, you’re right. I guess I’m feeling separation anxiety.”
“Listen, I’ll see you at home in a few hours and we can talk some more.”
“No, I’m good. You go back to work; I have a conference call in a few minutes. I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“It’s nice to know my voice is still wanted.”
“Al?”
“Yeah babe.” He waited. For some reason he had a feeling something else was on her mind.
“I love you,” she said.
His heart beat thunderously. He sighed. “Te amo, tambien nena.”
“I’ll see you later.”
“Okay, I’ll see you at home very soon.”
“All right, bye.”
He put away the device and listened to the discussion at the table. Back and forth the conversation went about money, who owed what, contractual obligations, euros, deutschmarks, francs and the good old American dollar; nothing but bargains, bartering and favors. And the only thing on Alfonzo’s mind was going home to his babe.
The meeting should have ended an hour ago. Most of the deals were settled, but there’s always the lingering bull-shitter, the person who signs contracts and then seeks to find a loophole of excuses to avoid paying what they owe. Giuseppe was surprisingly subdued at this juncture. Maybe, because after they broke for lunch he ate too much and needed a nap. Alfonzo suspected he was simply tired of listening to crap.