by Frank, S. W.
Selange’s belongings were transferred to the guest house last night and she was grateful to be away from the stench of marijuana and with her family. She hadn’t seen Alfonzo all day and tried to hide her disappointment. She cloaked her agony the best she could but by the sympathetic looks from Domingo’s wife Teresa, she figured everybody learned of her disgrace and those who didn’t were certain to. Last night, Alfonzo humiliated her in front of everyone. It was the response of the women which was the most shocking of all. They came to her defense without hesitation. They actually put themselves in harm’s way to do it. Although, she felt emotionally drained, she gained a newfound respect for this new sisterhood. Perhaps she had judged them too harshly, after-all.
They were invited to the main house for lunch and Maria clucked her tongue disapprovingly but went along. She would not let her grandchildren out of her sight around the people she deemed corrupt, even the women. Her mouth stayed quiet most of the elaborate luncheon except when she reminded Sal to keep his elbows off the table. Alfonzo’s mother also noticed the nervous glances at her daughter-in-law and wondered what was amiss. What did she not know?
Selange picked her fork in the food, eating to be polite and no other reason. She didn’t want to eat, but Nico’s words rang in her head and she listened to his voice, imagining him across the table watching to make sure she did. She inhaled trying to hold down the tears, wondering if he was okay, hoping Alfonzo wasn’t so beyond reason he’d lack mercy. Nico had been his guardian, friend and loyal, that is until she ruined it!
She suddenly excused herself and hurried to the bathroom then vomited the food right into the toilet. Time elongated as she hovered there feeling nauseous and weak, afraid to move. Soon it passed and she washed her mouth and face in the sink, splashing cold water on her eyes to hide evidence of her tears. When she returned to the room, no one commented on her absence, in fact her newfound friends chatted happily, pretending they knew nothing of her shame.
Sophie invited the Diaz family to accompany her and Amelda into the city for a tour of beautiful Milan. “We will have dinner there and the children can visit the beautiful parks.”
Maria initially declined, however Sophie’s infectious charm and insistence were no match for the pious woman and she caved. “Okay, we’ll go.”
“Sophie winked conspiratorially at Selange, then later when they were leaving whispered, “Nico is fine, you rest,” then planted a lipstick kiss on each cheek, “umwah…umwah!”
***
Selange took Sophie’s advice. The silence of the place lulled her to sleep. How long she rested before the sound of her cell rang was undetermined until she spied the hour on the digital clock sitting on the bureau. She napped for three hours. If the irritating noise hadn’t got into her dreams she would have slept for much longer. She took hold of it, “Um, yes.”
“How are you?”
Her eyes widened and her heart accelerated. Nico. Oh God, he was okay. Sophie, bless the clever woman. “Nico, are you alright. Did you get hurt, where are you?”
“I’ve taken far worse. I’m good, don’t worry about me. I warned you about the stress. From what I hear you’re regressing. Not eating…vomiting…come on Selange…I know it’s tough but soldier up woman, for me.”
A sharp intake of breath, a quiver to the mouth and a pathetic, “I can’t,” followed. “I can’t do it anymore. He hates me Nico…the way he looked at me…so disgusted…I didn’t tell him about the baby…what’s the point…why bother anymore?”
Nico didn’t like the defeatist tone and redirected it, “The point is you’re a wonderful woman, an outstanding mom and this kid…heck…it’s the luckiest child in the world to get your love.”
“I’m tired…I don’t have the fight in me anymore…”
“Selange, think about Sal and Allie. Think about how you kicked ass when they were threatened…find that fire.” When she didn’t answer he asked quietly, “What can I do, tell me?”
“I need to see you.”
A long silence, then, “In twenty minutes, exactly, go to the basement. There’s a green door. It’s the electrical room. Go in there and look for a narrow dark spacing between two large beams at the southern end of the wall. You should be able to fit through upright and slide against it, palms outstretched to the wall in front of you. You’re about five six, so you’ll feel a slight indention around your waistline on the wall halfway in. Stick a finger in and push the button. The sound you hear will be a small door opening at your knees. Stoop down and follow the passage to the end. I’ll be on the other side.”
She memorized his instructions then said, “Okay.”
“Leave a note in case your family returns before you get back saying you’re taking a stroll in the gardens. Leave it on the table.”
She did everything he said, put on comfortable shoes, grabbed a wool coat and rushed to the basement.
It was just as Nico described, except the door slid down into the floor and the space was cramped and dark. She had to squeeze in then jump down and walk in a crouched position. His estimated time was how long it took for her to reach the end of the darkened tunnel minus five minutes. She pushed on the wall in front of her and it gave with several attempts. She received a shower of dust and light which blinded her when it finally flew open.
There was a chuckle and a hand reached down to help her out of a ditch. She slapped the cloud of sediment from her hair and face. He used his handkerchief to clean it better, “There, can you see now?”
Selange opened her eyes and realized where she was. They were beyond the property’s wall on the side of the hill hidden by dense trees. He slid a granite slab over the opening, some broken tree limbs then took her hand and led her down to where a dusty car waited.
“Where’s the Mercedes?” She asked.
Nico grinned, “Do you really want to stand out?”
The wisdom of his choice became clear. Yes, this car camouflaged with the landscape. The shiny black Mercedes did not. She said nothing else.
As Nico drove he kept glancing at her. She looked lost. “Hey, inside your head again?”
“I guess.”
“Talk to me, get it out.”
“He’s not going to forgive me. I see it. We’re done.”
“The wound is fresh. You won’t know until it heals.”
“How long…how long do I wait, huh?”
“That’s up to you.”
They were curving through the countryside, racing down a familiar route, passing very few cars before going through rows of trees and shrubbery to his hide-away. Thinking only brought sorrow. Sad songs were playing in surround sound in her skull. They were a combination of classics and modern melodies. Her marriage was over and all she heard were sad goddamn songs.
Soon, they were inside the secluded villa, standing in the foyer and he hung their coats in the closet. He turned around when done and tenderly flicked more dust from her hair, “Better.”
She nodded and reached to Nico in pain. The song in her head played, one of endings and indecision. She skipped along with the words, it was appropriate and the lyrics resonated in her soul. Trey Songz, ‘Heart Attack.’
‘…feels like a heart attack…fell in too deep…it’s killing me…never knew love …would hurt this bad…worst pain that ever had…can’t think about giving it up…never knew love would feel like a heart attack…’
Who was she crying for, who was the man causing her heart to convulse in this pain? She couldn’t answer anymore; all she wanted was the comfort of Nico’s arms and his caresses. His hands lifted her by the waist, carrying her against him, his head tucked at her breasts hurting too. She could tell. They were in hell together for their sins. She kissed at his neck, rubbed the muscles protruding from his upper back, clung to him for wisdom and life.
Nico carried her up the stairs to the bedroom and lay her down on the crumpled sheets where he’d slept last night, thinking of her and in pain over having to leave and now she was here. He
was kissing her through the salty tears, ripping away at his clothing, discarding hers with equal ferocity, until they were joined flesh to flesh and she became part of him. She gripped and pulled at the sheets as he loved her with such unconcealed lust Selange’s lips parted for air.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Matteo was a man in the garden of temptation. Nude women swirled, flirted and some were bold and kissed his mouth, but he pulled away laughing, flattered yet uncomfortable with such an intimate act. He preferred they place their lips on other places. His mouth was reserved strictly for Amelda.
Giuseppe certainly didn’t mind and his display would have been shameful, if he had a wife. The other degenerate groom’s men followed suit, pulling women on to their laps, groping them like schoolboys who never had pussy. Alfonzo waved away a woman, not bothering to show his disgust. The last thing he wanted was a mindless roll in the sack with a paid escort. Domingo was having a good time, at least.
The rum found its way down into his empty stomach, settling there and he reclined on the leather sofa disinterested in everything.
“Hard to celebrate someone else’s happiness when you’re completely miserable, isn’t it?” He heard Matteo say above his head shortly after he decided to nap..
Alfonzo sat forward; he was being a spoiler and tried to shake off the depression. “Hey, what happened got tired of the blonde trying to tongue you?”
Matteo’s smile was that of a playboy, “Had many like her before, they begin to blend into one familiar liquid drink after a time. I have no desire for anyone other than Amelda. We are a potent mix.”
Alfonzo scoffed, he’d thought the same thing about Selange.
“See, Amelda is not perfect, neither am I. She’s a woman, one who holds my attention longer than any, not only in the bedroom but also in conversation. When I grow old I want a woman who if we are unable to have sex then our communication is sensual poetry and stimulating.”
The statement slapped him; the poetry part. He thought of Selange.
“I do not offer advice to a man unless asked but seeing you here; it is obvious you are in love with your wife. If she has never hurt you like this before and is truly sorry, perhaps forgiveness can be granted.”
“How do I forgive this…when it’s killing me thinking about her and Nico?”
The men were having a raucous good time, oblivious their guest of honor was not partaking in the celebration; instead he took a seat beside Alfonzo, folded his leg over his knee, reclined and stretched his arms on the sofa. He watched the women, throwing themselves at his drunken friends and relatives, smiling at how silly the men looked.
“I have been an ass many times over, secretly I am still an ass.” He smiled, “I know it is hard to love someone like me. I travel, enjoy flirtation and I’m accustomed to getting what I want. Money spoils men, it makes them arrogant. I am all these things.-And for extra measure I am a Mafioso. I command, demand, and condemn with one…” he snapped his finger, “snap of my finger.”
“Hmm.”
“Amelda is not docile or untouched, because I am none of those. The beauty of marrying a woman is she is a woman and not a girl. If Amelda had been young and inexperienced I would wait, let her blossom and learn her likes and dislikes. Have relationships in order to compare and contrast, so when she comes to me, she comes as a woman who knows what she wants and finds me the best of the bunch.” He uncrossed his leg, “Ironic, women can forgive us worse, yet we are have large egos and will lose so much to keep it. Ah! But I have talked enough. I must go and play, squeeze a tit or two and not offend my best man.”
Alfonzo sat there as Matteo laughed, stood then with his playboy smile took the hand of one of the women and they danced. And just as he said, he squeezed the woman’s breasts, even kissed it and all was well with him and Giuseppe.
Alfonzo finally got his ass off the couch and decided to leave his baggage there. He wouldn’t kiss any of the women, but dancing, well he could do that. After-all he was Latino.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Selange opened her eyes to a wonderful vision. The dark Sicilian with the usually somber expression was smiling down, his deep eyes caressing her. He smelled of soap and she gathered he bathed after she’d fallen asleep. She smirked, vanity causing her to rake her hands through her wild hair as she slid up, “I must look a sight.”
His head lowered to her stomach and he pecked circles atop her skin which caused her to giggle before looking at her, “You have no idea how sexy you are do you?”
“You’d say anything, you big flirt!”
He hoisted her out of bed and she wrapped her legs around his waist laughing as he kissed her throat, squeezed her buttocks and sighed, “I got to get you back soon…in the meantime…”
He was carrying her to the bathroom. She smelled a delicious aroma of lavender and turned her head to see what he’d done as she dozed. “Nico, wow!”
Candles lined the counter, the tub was filled with bubbles and beside it a tray filled with fruits, hors d’oeuvres and a cup of steaming tea.
“Like?”
“Did you order the food?”
“This place doesn’t exist.”
Her mouth formed into an O.
“I do cook.”
He placed her gently in the tub and sat on the edge. He reached for a basket which was filled with various loofahs for her to choose from. She picked the tan sea sponge. She liked the feel of them better than the synthetic mesh ones.
As she rubbed it over her arms he watched.
“I remember those burns last time you cooked. I see you’ve gotten better in the kitchen.”
The reference to the burns he received brought a tug to his mouth but nothing else. He’d told her he’d gotten hurt during a culinary chore but he lied. They were the result of an explosion during one of his jobs.
Her long lashes were pressed against the apex of her cheeks as she reclined, “Umm, this feels so nice.”
“Open your mouth…no keep the eyes closed.”
She did and he put a grape on her tongue. She chewed and this is how he fed her, smiling at how easily she adapted to the pampering. He would gladly spoil her the rest of his days if he could, unfortunately his days were numbered and she was the reason. Last night, he walked away and meant to keep his distance that is until he called Sophie. When she told him about how sickly Selange appeared and she wasn’t eating, he broke yet another promise and made contact. Seeing the vitality return to Selange’s face and the joy leaping from her spirit; he’d break a million promises because the one that mattered was her happiness and the baby.
Suddenly she slid under the water then leaped up shaking water all over him laughing. He grabbed a towel as she stood and wrapped it around her glistening skin. “Okay, now I have to get you home.”
“Oh, but this is fun.”
The smile faded from Nico’s mouth, “You can stay but if you do, you kill any chance of getting back with your husband, you know that?”
She pondered the question. If there was even a smidgeon of hope they could reconcile, she’d take it. She hadn’t stopped loving Alfonzo. The crazy thing is she loved Nico almost as much. Then it was the issue of the children; if she stayed with Nico then her children must be right by her side. They were a package deal, but of course Nico already understood this, didn’t he?
“What do you want, Nico?”
“I want you to be one hundred percent certain it’s me you want to be with. I don’t want you undecided or confused or tortured. I want you happy and if it’s with me, then I’ll love you, take care of you but if it’s not, the same still applies.” He rubbed her hair with the towel, grinning at her petulant expression, “Stop frowning, when you’re absolutely sure how you feel you know how to reach me.”
They embraced and she pressed her face against his broad chest letting the silence speak. It said, ‘This is our farewell, for now.’
Shortly after, they were on their way out. Nico opened the front door and guns pointe
d at his head.
***
Alberti did not stay for Matteo’s celebration. He found Giuseppe’s choice of entertainment classless, but –he shrugged, who was he to judge?
The hour had grown late when he arrived home to a sleeping household. He went to the study and opened the hidden compartment at the base his desk and took out a pair of documents. He read through it, although he’d memorized its contents countless times over the years. He wanted to hold it, feel the old paper as though he could feel the past. Time was slipping away from him. The grey hairs went from several strands to thousands. Sixty-odd wasn’t old, he certainly didn’t feel it, yet he was.
The documents were Nico and Vincent’s birth certificates. The handwritten information a sign of its antiquity. Today, birth certificates were typed with official seals and signatures, serial numbers and fancy paper.
The situation with Alfonzo and Nico concerned him more than he let on. Ugh, the past, how easy men forget history. A woman; the Achilles heel of all mortal men. Nico succumbed to this weakness. The most loyal of men, one he loved beyond words had fallen. His son and his great hope.
Alberti returned the document to its proper place then removed a cigar from the humidor, lit it and reclined in his chair. With one puff, his mood improved. Alfonzo’s wife was lovely, true, but for Nico to defy wisdom and risk everything for her there must be more to it. He knew Nico very well and this was uncharacteristic.
He bluffed when he threatened the strong-willed man. Alberti would not have Nico harmed and was glad Alfonzo took a similar stance. Throughout the years Nico’s loyalty was beyond reproach. Nico’s skills were invaluable.
Perhaps, tomorrow he’d speak to Alfonzo. Tell him more of his family and their history. Alberti took another puff from the cigar, thinking. He’d done many things to protect the Giacanti legacy. Most recently, eliminating a curious journalist, however a new threat arose. The incident in Milan with Nico was linked to a far greater problem than originally thought. The man Nico killed was a low-level member of the Messini family and second cousin to Constantine Tulo, whose wife was among the bridal party. This did not bode well with Alberti. Yesterday, he believed someone inside the house eavesdropped during the men’s discussion.