Affliction

by S. W. Frank

  When they reconvened in the conference room, the man who wanted an extension on a multi-million dollar loan leaned earnestly toward Giuseppe. He glanced at the pensive Capo de Tutti at his side, casually listening. He preferred to deal with Don Alfonzo, because he was more reasonable.

  “Another year and I will have the balance repaid on the loan,” he said to Giuseppe, hoping Don Alfonzo intervened.

  Giuseppe had handled most of the trivial matters expeditiously. Alfonzo had no cause to usurp his brother’s authority. Frankly, Giuseppe’s decisions were sound.

  “Three months you have sung this song,” Giuseppe answered. “Your hotels are making a profit. I have seen the books. What is the delay, ora?”

  “My daughter is getting married. I would like to give her a nice wedding, you understand?”

  Giuseppe scoffed and then went silent.

  The man continued. “She is my youngest.”

  Nothing was spoken from Giuseppe or Matteo.

  Matteo was engaged in texting. The same behavior he’d seen in the younger generation when they become disinterested in their surroundings. Alfonzo cleared his throat. Matteo’s head came up and then he put away the device.

  “Two years was the term of the loan. The contract was explicit. Miss a payment, the entire balance becomes due.” Alfonzo reminded the man and then questioned Giuseppe, “Has he missed a payment?”

  “No, but he has been late on occasion,” Giuseppe answered and then he rose. “Por favore fratellino, deal with this cazzo. My patience has dwindled. I might put a bullet in his mouth to cease his excuses.”

  Giuseppe exited, slamming the door and Alfonzo frowned.  Yeah, Alfonzo recognized the grief-stricken face masked by anger. He snarled at the whiney businessman who sought to wear them thin with his simpering. “The man who cries broke or fails to repay a loan is always indebted to others.” He had no empathy for the wealthy cheapskate. “In my opinion he’s usually a cheap lying pendejo. You have thirty days to repay the entire balance in cash to Don Dichenzo or we will take ownership of your hotels. Give your daughter a wedding, but we will not foot the bill. Now leave, you douchebag!”

  The man jumped to his feet. He exited swiftly, looking nervously over his shoulder to avoid a potential bullet in the back.

  Alfonzo’s cell vibrated. He glanced at the sequence of zeroes.

  Nico.

  He rose once more and walked out of earshot from Matteo. “Yeah?”

  “We’ve inherited another problem. Can we meet?”

  Alfonzo glanced at his watch. “See you in an hour, that place I told you about.”

  “Okay…and kid, don’t mention we’re meeting to Giuseppe or anybody, capisce?”

  Alfonzo’s long masculine lashes descended slightly. He looked sideways at Giuseppe returning through the door. Why did he have a feeling this wasn’t going to be good? “Don’t insult me.”

  “I’m only reiterating, because when you hear what I have to say you’ll understand that this could result in a personal war if hot-head finds out. Ciao!”

  “Yeah, hasta luego.”

   

   

  ***

   

   

   

   

  Giuseppe was glad when Matteo decided to leave in a separate car after the meeting. The privacy he craved was granted. He could speak candidly with his little brother. “Do you like the villa?” he asked Alfonzo.

  “Yes, thanks,” Alfonzo answered and then crossed his leg. He held his shin as the limo joined the heavy traffic and they entered another busy piazza. “Talk to me hombre, how are you doing?”

  Giuseppe sighed, rubbed the stubble on his chin and turned to look out of the car window. His voice was as distant as his mind. “Strange fratellino that a man can have so much, yet have nothing.”

  Alfonzo listened.  He thought it best to allow Giuseppe to talk. The strain of death and deception sucked a hole in his chest. They were both far way, seated on separate shores, yet gazing at the same vast ocean. Shanda was gone, as well as Domingo. Pain is what they shared; deep and strong.

  “I feel empty fratellino…why is that?”

  “Because Shanda filled a space and with her gone it’s a huge void,” Alfonzo said.

  “Si. When I look at Carlo, I grow sad that he will never know his mama.”

  “Fratello, we will not let him forget her, you hear me?”

  Giuseppe nodded absently. “Sí, si.” Then he said, “We do many bad things to protect famiglia. When it is someone we love who turns, the anger is really disappointment. You did what was necessary. Domingo consorting with that snake Vecchio boils my blood. I think we should bring him in to answer for this and then kill him publicly as an example to the other families.”

  “We’ve already agreed to do this quietly and not tip our hand. Let’s not alter anything.”

  “Have you spoken to Nico, is he sure Tony is ready?”

  “Yes.”

  “We do have others we can send.”

  “We don’t want anyone Vecchio may recognize, plus Tony looks like a native of the place Vecchio is going.”

  “We must do this quickly. Each election brings out mavericks with talk of bringing Mafiosi to justice. We do this and then we give word to the families to refrain from public dealings that may have us highlighted in the media.”

  “I agree.” Alfonzo grinned. His older brother had matured. Not long ago he would have disregarded the need for discretion. It was refreshing to be able to have counsel with someone he trusted explicitly.

  “I had a weird dream fratellino,” Giuseppe said then.

  “Yeah?”

  “I dreamt I received a visit from my donna. We made love fratellino in this dream and she said she loved me.”

  “Shanda did love you…she did.”

  “But, it is strange. After I awoke, there was evidence of sex on my bedding.”

  Alfonzo chuckled. “Were you wasted?”

  “Sí.”

  “Hey, either you fucked yourself or had a lady friend over and don’t remember.”

  “You are right.” Giuseppe changed the subject. “Bianca has disappeared. Is there something you must tell me fratellino?”

  Alfonzo refused to give Giuseppe a saddle to ride Nico’s back. “Is there a reason you’re asking me about a widow?”

  “Do not evade the question.”

  “She’s alive.”

  “Has she betrayed famiglia?”

  “No Giuseppe she hasn’t. Everything isn’t a betrayal of family. The woman’s visiting her family.”

  “But she is an assassino and not an innocent. We have seen what she is capable of doing, no?”

  “Okay, but at the end of the day, she’s still a mother. You don’t think she misses her girls?”

  “Humph.” Giuseppe studied his brother. He did not blink or fidget, but then again, Alfonzo hid lies well, except when discussing his woman. “You will inform me if there is a problem, sí?”

  “I always do, when it’s necessary.” Sparkly blue eyes of their father stared in the irises of a brother. “We are at peace; do not seek war with your family.”

  “I do not wish to battle at the moment but with famiglia, skirmishes are inevitable,” Giuseppe replied and then leaned back to watch the hectic piazza. He understood his cantankerous brother resented prying. When Alfonzo was ready to share his inner thoughts he’d do so without prods. They were similar in this respect; DNA he supposed. But, on the matter of Bianca he maintained reservations. Bianca and Nico appeared extremely comfortable with each other, he had observed in Africa. Sí, he believed Nico had broken an oath taken on the day of Alberti’s funeral. Perhaps, he should make a visit to his cousin and remind him of that pledge.

  Alfonzo’s eyebrow had risen. Giuseppe was looking for a fight. He inhaled. He wanted Giuseppe happy. This tragedy with Shanda had swiped an opportunity. Glimpses of the old Giuseppe appeared often, but anybody
who loses a loved one understands words never really soothe the pain. When alone, a deep sadness comes and tears can flow from the strongest along with vivid visions of the dead.

  He would have cried for Domingo, had his cousin not cut out his heart. The boys had changed when they became adults. A phony smile can disguise hate. To deceive and jest with others behind the back of someone who genuinely loves his blood is a snake and a fake person. Kill the good in a relationship with jealousy, insecurity and doubt. No he didn’t have tears for a sucker like that. The spiteful Domingo he murdered had put a sour taste in his mouth.

  “They had the bastard on tape,” Alfonzo confided in the silence.

  “Humph.” Giuseppe responded.

  “The asshole didn’t even know he was being used.”

  “Or perhaps he did not care.”

  “That’s a thought.”

  “You know what he said about me?”

  “No, tell me.”

  “He said I’m not shit…just a man with a big head.”

  Giuseppe frowned, but then began to smile. “You do have a big head fratellino…and he is right you are not shit…you are a Giacanti.”

  Alfonzo smirked. Sometimes he forgot there are American phrases which aren’t universally understood. In this instance, literally is how Giuseppe interpreted the term.

  “Your head is bigger, never forget that.” Alfonzo laughed good-naturedly.

  “Grazie. Confidence should not be confused with ego.”

  Alfonzo’s eyebrow rose higher. See, Giuseppe does this mess a lot. He had known exactly what Alfonzo meant all along. He was far wiser than he let on. 

  Giuseppe’s head swiveled when they drove by diners at a sidewalk café. He shouted to the driver to halt and then exited the car, leaving Alfonzo wondering what he’d seen.

  Giuseppe approached a pair of women who were smiling until he interrupted. He had recognized Tony’s fiancée, but her female companion with dyed red hair, he never met. The guards tailing in a car were out on the street. The entourage of soldati flanked their boss before he stepped on the curb.

  Tiffany looked up as he rushed over, she put down her pen when she recognized her employer’s brother. He didn’t give her an opportunity to say hello, instead he began shouting at her in Italian. “Where are your guards…why are you in such a public place without protection?” he asked but of course she didn’t understand a word he said.

  The redhead, slid her seat back, cocked a questioning glance at her sister before inquiring, “Who the heck is this guy Tiff?”

  Giuseppe answered in English for her. “If you do not know who I am, then it is an example of your ignorance.” He turned to Tiffany after the rude statement. “Venite, I will escort you home ora.”

  “Uh, Mr. Dichenzo, I’m having a private conversation with my sister. No disrespect intended but we don’t need a ride, we drove here and we can drive back.”

  Giuseppe scowled. Americanos were dense. Did she not realize the risk of being out on the street?

  Did she not think of enemies who might kill them in broad daylight to hurt her fiancé or the Giacanti’s? 

  Giuseppe reached for Tiffany’s wrist and her sister pulled out mace. “Don’t you put your hands on my sister!” she warned while brandishing the canister near his face.

  A male hand roughly confiscated the item. Giuseppe frowned at her audacity. “Never do that again. You may be shot bella.”

  Tiffany was on her feet. The petite firecracker went off. “Are you crazy, what’s wrong with you threatening her?”

  Alfonzo stepped through the semi-circle of suits. The thin smile on his face was set for mediation. “Hola Tiffany, how are you love?”

  She pointed to Giuseppe. “He barged over here threatening us. Is he crazy?”

  “My brother becomes overzealous. He’s concerned for you ladies,” Alfonzo stated while putting his hand on Giuseppe’s shoulder to keep him immobile –damn hothead. “In this area there’s been a string of robberies. Tourists are targeted. We can suggest a safer place to dine which isn’t as public, right grande fratello?”

  “Ah, she should know better!”

  Tiffany gave him the evil eye. “And you need to learn manners.”

  “Yes, he does,” Alfonzo replied. “But until that happens which might be never…I agree with my brother…time to leave.”

  Giuseppe eyed Tiffany’s sister. His temper cooled. Kefilwe had said, he must learn to respect women; otherwise he would never experience love. He wondered if Shanda was abruptly taken to punish him for his behavior.

  The sisters exchanged looks. They were in no position to oppose but they hesitated in a stand of temporary defiance. Alfonzo headed to the limo, leaving them to ponder the decision with his less than patient brother.

  Giuseppe gestured toward the awaiting car. “We cannot wait all day.”

  Tiffany scowled in frustration. “What about our car?”

  “Ah, do not worry. The car will be safe.”

  “But, it’s a rental,” her sister Nicole interjected, “And in my name!”

  Giuseppe asked for the key, and when she handed it over he tossed it to a lackey to secure. Then he gestured to the street where the limo sat idling. “After you, donne.”

  The women’s high heels clicked-clacked across the sidewalk and Giuseppe smiled. “Grazie, I thank you for your compliance.”

  Giuseppe followed the women, checking out the redhead’s silhouette. He liked what he saw, the frontal portion and the rear.

  "Oooh, what in the world have you gotten me into Tiffany?" The redhead whispered.

  Tiffany was livid. "I'm wondering that myself!"

  During the limo ride, Alfonzo reclined his head as Giuseppe needled the ladies. Tiffany’s sister seemed upset. Her feline eyes sparkled venomously. Alfonzo grinned. Oh, that one was not having any of his brother’s shit and he enjoyed the tit for tat conversation.

  "We can have dinner and then compromise on what we eat for dessert," Giuseppe said with a lascivious smile as the car pulled in front of Tiffany’s home.

  The door was held open and Tiffany scurried out. You’d think her skirt was on fire the way she hustled to that door. But, her sister Nicole, took her sweet time, she wanted to show the loud-mouth Giuseppe she wasn’t intimidated.

  With her feet on the ground she glared at Giuseppe with disgust as he leaned out the limo like a thirsty dude trying to get digits from a chica en la calle.

  “Comments like that those are a complete turn-off. Someone's fed your ego and you actually believe you're irresistible. I'll pass on dinner and any of your nasty ass dessert. Besides, I think you're ugly. You probably have more diseases than a male hooker."

  “Cosa, Americanos don’t like tasty meat, perché?”

  “Go to hell, you animal!” she spat and marched toward the house.

  Alfonzo’s head drooped. He laughed so damn hard, his eyes watered.

  Giuseppe sank in the seat with a snarl. "Ugly...did she call me ugly, fratellino?"

  "I'm still on the diseased male hooker line. Ah, man what a diss."

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  CHAPTER EIGHT

   

   

   

  Alfonzo surveyed the land. There was a deed for this property among his father’s belongings. For years he didn’t have an interest in anything Luzo acquired. But when he revisited the chest, did some research and learned the property had belonged to an influential Italian-Jew killed in World War II and the enormous size, his curiosity piqued.

  The property boasted 88.6 Italian tumoli. The land was covered by approximately 1000 lemon trees, 800 olive trees, some being 500 years old, 400 almond trees, 20 carob trees, numerous apricot, apple and orange trees, together with a number of fig, kaki, mulberry and plum trees.

  Now
that’s a lot of fruit.

  On entering the gates to the left was a paddock. After a few meters further on the right was a long converted barn, which was renovated in to living quarters with large rooms and en suite bathrooms. The home was fully air-conditioned and had functioning fireplaces, ideal for a large family.

  Continuing on the path, there is a small stream with lemon and fruit trees on both sides. Next to the olive trees there’s a well or travella as it’s called, which had yet to run dry.

  Go further on and climb the hill, and absorb the spectacular views of a distance sea, with mountain landscapes all around. Looking back through the entrance, Alfonzo could see the two homes and the stables on the right with green roofs.

  There is more to this property he had believed, a story hidden from inquisitive eyes. He stood there, waiting for Nico with a Roman shell structure in the backdrop with a three quarter finished infinity swimming pool beside a three room pool house.

  Yes, there was a lot to this land, far more than he realized from simply blue-prints. There was history here, beneath the modern sub divisions overshadowing the quaint cottage.

  Alfonzo sniffed a sweet smell. Dinner was being cooked somewhere in the distance. He thought of Selange waiting at home.

  Then a singular figure came in to view. Why, he asked had Vincent died?

  The determined gait, long and straight is the Nico stride.

  A bearer of death; a tormented executioner, yet a savior and cousin walked his way.

  “What’s up Nico?”

  Nico halted. “Plenty.” He glanced around with disinterest and then spoke plainly. “Sophie has a boyfriend.”

  “That’s not earth shattering.” Alfonzo replied looking Nico up and down, noticing the bruises to his face. “Did you have a fight with him?”

  “We scuffled.”

  “He must be one tough dude to leave marks on you. How old is this guy?”

  “Old enough.”

  Alfonzo chuckled. “A senior gave you a run for your money. Primo, I think you’re losing your touch.”

  “Shut up kid. I can still kick your ass.”

  “Apparently, not anymore, you’re about ready for the retirement home, old man.”

  Nico scowled. “Try me.”

  “I’ll let you recuperate first. I wouldn’t want to fight someone with a handicap.”