by S. W. Frank
He severed the call and dropped the phone to the mattress.
Selange continued kneading out the knots in his shoulders and he closed his eyes, thanking his Mama for not catering to his ass as Sophie had done with Giuseppe. Emotional immaturity can be detrimental and in Giuseppe's case, an irreversible handicap.
"The children must be gone. The house is too quiet." Selange said softly.
"Yeah."
"No kiss bye mom -dad, huh?"
Alfonzo's mouth descended. Giuseppe came across as if he resented him for having a solid relationship with his wife. "Nope, just a note."
"I guess they didn't want to wake us or peeked in and said ugh."
Alfonzo didn't laugh. Arguing with his brother had exacted a heavy emotional toll. He wanted Giuseppe to stop throwing shade all the damn time and mature. The cacophonous timbre inside his chest was the result of the pressure from all around. Marisól's killer was walking around somewhere, his kids thought he lost his mind, Nicole tried to blow his face off and the coupe de tat, his woman -his everything had cancer. "Guess so." He mumbled.
"You were in my herbal soap," she stated with hoarseness due to last night's pleasurable activities.
"Yup."
"Smells good don’t it?"
"Anything smells better than ass." He scoffed irritably, in his head fussing at Giuseppe, but he appreciated his wife's effort to soothe his bad mood but he'd simmer down in time. He'd go exercise, get his mind into another zone and the stress would subside.
"Why didn't you tell me about Nicole the other night?" Selange asked.
He rolled his shoulders when she touched a sore spot. "Should I have?" He asked in a dissonant tone.
"Yes."
"It wouldn't have changed anything."
"Except prepare me."
"Yeah, sure, like I should drop that news on you when you're dealing with cancer."
"I think I can handle the fact that a family member died."
"She wasn't family."
"She was married to Geo. That is family."
"She was about to destroy this family."
"Did Geo kill his wife?"
"No."
"Did you?"
"No. She beat me to it." Alfonzo answered without emotion, stood and felt her hands careen down his spine. She was digging and he wasn't sharing all the sordid details. "Nicole took her life, end of story. I'm going to work out."
"You're avoiding the subject?"
"Yeah, why fucking not? I'm done with talking."
"I'm not!" She exclaimed, leaping to her feet in pursuit.
She moved fast, blocking the door and he stopped. "Move babe, our conversation's over."
"No."
Alfonzo's brow inclined. Seriously, she didn’t think he'd confess. "Babe, don't do this right now. You know when you needed space, you took it, and I’m taking mine."
She crossed her arms over her breasts, defiant and unwavering. "You're taking this hard aren't you?"
"What do you think?" he replied.
"Then let's talk about it."
"Okay." He relaxed a leg. "My wife has breast cancer and I'm fucking pissed!"
"And you’re lashing out on everybody, even your brother. Giuseppe's lost his wife. He's in pain, too and you're ripping each other apart instead of having a conversation."
His eyes blazed. "Nah."
"Yes," she replied. "Geo's doing what he does best, act a fool when shit happens, but you can't turn your back on him."
"Babe."
"Nope, don't use my cancer as a reason to neglect this family. I'm alive. I'm right here honey. Look at me, I'm here...right here." What you said to your brother about my losing my mom isn't the guilt I want you to carry. It isn’t your fault she died. What we’ve encountered has made us stronger." She poked him in the chest. Her eyes were fiery and affectionate. "Oh honey, our family is unified. I suspect your father knew it would be with you in charge. Luzo believed in you. You're not on a power trip, selfish like Geo or murderous like Nico. Luzo recognized a leader and whether you like it or not, your father was right. We’ve all lost a lot, including Geo. But, you can’t lose sight of the most important thing –your heart. Cut yourself some slack because you’ve done a great job in a position you never requested."
He sighed, stretched his neck and stared at the ceiling. He didn't intend to let Giuseppe go it alone. He only told the motherfucker that to shut him up. He gazed at his wife with intensity. "You're giving it to me straight, huh?"
"Always honey." She stepped aside. "I'm going to clean this room, get dressed and then prepare something to eat before we leave."
He chuckled and slapped her ass on his way past. "We'll grab something in route to the plane."
She pouted. "What? You still don't appreciate my cooking?"
"Yeah, I appreciate your effort."
She laughed and the sound was beautiful and carefree.
An orchestral symphony played.
Chapter Sixteen
Everyone filed into the house, small ones, big ones, tired ones, mischievous ones and one unhappy looking senior are what Chocolate counted, thirteen guests in total.
She hadn't expected that many and apparently neither had Lorenzo.
"Buongiorno," Nico greeted his host, patting his shoulder, as he placed the large duffle bag against the wall where the bigger children had stacked their luggage before crowding into the sitting room.
"Yasa," Lorenzo replied, wondering where everyone would sleep. They'd have to double up. He'd have to fetch a crib out of the attic. He peered at the travelers and figured he'd have a week of childish antics. In a way, he was glad to see the group. He was accustomed to large family gatherings and somehow, their presence seemed fitting in light of today being his Mama' birthday. "Let me show you where to put your belongings."
Everyone followed him upstairs, except Ari. She reclined on the sofa with Alexandros and closed her eyes. She was beat. Waking at five in the morning, supervising a bunch of boisterous kids for a trip was hell. She had knocked at Selange's bedroom door for a bit of assistance, but apparently, she'd been busy. She'd stuck her head in the door and smiled. Al's sexy ass had Selange wrapped protectively against his body and she couldn't help but admire the tattoos on his muscular frame.
That man was fine, she smirked, but then again, so was Nico -seasoned to her tastes and succulently edible. When she thought about Alfonzo and Selange's relationship, she sighed. A cynical Ari hadn't believed in that idea of a soul mate, but they changed her mind. They went through shit, clicked back together without missing a beat. This proved that spiritual connections do exist. Maybe, her previous cynicism stemmed from being emotionally closed. When she stopped being so damn Ari oriented and defensive -and half-stepping when it came to love, she realized Nico was the man she craved and he was a damn good man -well fucked up in a good sort of way, but hell, so was she.
Anyway, she wasn't sticking around only in the good times. The kids weren't living with her in the event of another divorce. Oh man, hell no, she was too far in shit with Nico and his crazy family to split now. Hurricane winds couldn't make her loosen her grip on her husband.
Ari gained respect for marriage after her capsized boat ran ashore. In fact, she was seasick thinking of her time spent apart sexually involved with other people and not considering the emotional consequences of an open marriage might be detrimental when a spouse catches feelings for somebody else.
However, that changed when she put on her life jacket, went to his side and they set out together. She hadn't been this happy –ever. To maintain that feeling of bliss, she planned to do more. That's what she swore learning about Selange’s current situation.
She had closed the door, hurried to the kid’s rooms and woke them up like a drill sergeant, putting Sal in charge of keeping his siblings from their parent's suite. The teen understood without any elaboration, which highlighted to Ari, he was accustomed to his parent's making out.
"Hey sweetheart, you okay?" Nico aske
d with worry lines on his rugged face.
Strange that he appeared unexpectedly with affectionate eyes. The sinister snare to his nostrils was never threatening to his wife.
"I needed a moment." She chuckled.
He smirked, and whatever went through his mind caused his eyes to shimmer with adoration. He rubbed the baby's back as the rumbling began upstairs. "I'm thankful for you love. How about tonight we have a nice dinner at a nearby restaurant."
"You don't need to ask me twice. But, we have to make sure the children are asleep and the boys are on their best behavior."
Nico's head tilted toward the ceiling. The kids were going to tear down Lorenzo's house if he didn't set the ground rules quick. "Yeah. I'm going to help Lorenzo set up the crib in our room. Can you and Allie help Diane prepare lunch?"
"Sure," Ari smiled sweetly, dreading conversation with the hooker. Matter-of-fact, she didn't want the skank preparing shit for the kids. Nasty bitch might have a disease. She sat forward, careful not to wake the baby. She laid the baby on his side toward the air. "Maybe, Allie and I can make lunch for everybody instead of 'what's her name?'"
"Diane, but she goes by Chocolate."
“Oh, how sweet.”
Nico squinted. He heard the insincerity. "Love, be nice."
Ari stood, caressed Nico's stubble and gestured that he bend lower for a kiss.
He obeyed.
"Hmmm," she said when the lip locking ended. "I'm always nice."
"Keep telling yourself that; maybe it'll register."
She slapped his jean-covered butt before he walked away and then barreled up the stairs.
Ari folded her arms; maybe, she could get Anita to whip up a meal for an army.
"No, no, no, Ari, you said all hands on deck, time to earn your passage on the ship and stop being a stowaway."
"Why are you talking to yourself Aunt Ari?"
"Oh, hi Allie. You know I was just saying to Nico, I think it would be a great idea of we bake your famous cookies and make lunch for everybody."
"I would, but I feel yucky."
"Are you sick?"
"Yes," Allie said and flopped on the sofa. "I have my period."
Ari screwed up her face. "So."
"Well don't you feel icky when you have menstruation?"
"Girl please! You had better start pushing past that nonsense or you'll never function. Come on; let's go see what these people have in their kitchen. Aren't you hungry?"
Allie didn't argue. "Yes."
"Okay, food isn't going to prepare itself."
"But can you cook Auntie?"
Ari struck a sassy pose. With her hands on her hip, she reviewed the girl. "Better than your Mama."
Allie laughed. "She cooks better now."
"Keep telling yourself that; poor child."
When Allie giggled, Ari smirked.
The ice had officially cracked.
Who would've thought Selange's bad cooking could do some good.
Chapter Seventeen
Clickety-clack.
Clickety-clack.
High heels on marble produce sounds that are irritating to a reader engrossed in the diary of a duplicitous German woman.
'...I have lived a long and solitary life without my husband. Yet, it has been filled with a child's laughter and beautiful nonetheless. I worry for my grandson; he is not well, I believe, despite his external mechanisms to the contrary. I cannot eradicate the image of the drugged black girl, and the joy upon his face as he committed his act. Clearly, she was unable to assent to sex in a drug-induced state. I slapped him, screamed at my grandson, cried in anger due to the guilt, which is mine for being part of the atrocities to the Jews, stealing another's life, finding that the religion to which I was ignorant has heightened awareness of my evil. In my grandson, I see the Fuhrer's insanity, charismatic and calculative. He had given the poor girl a large dosage of Quaaludes and I fear she will have an adverse effect, but secretly I am gladdened she will not recall the heinous violation. I ensured she was taken back to her community, however, I confess I kept her ID. Lisa Carroll, age 17, a high school graduate, a girl I paid to attend a party and fed my grandson's fetish for black girls without knowing he would behave vilely. The girl's future is ruined. I hired an investigator to update me monthly in the event she regained any memory of the incident. However, in the report, she is pregnant, using heroin and it is my grandson's fault. The child she carries is his; I am certain of this, but what good will come of claiming the innocent without admitting collaboration....'
"Mama, it is late." Amelda announced from the doorway of the parlor where Sophie reclined to read.
Sophie absorbed the lovely woman, in the form-fitting dress. Amelda's ebony hair shone beneath the dim lighting as if sprinkles of diamond dust resided there. She saw her husband Carlo in the mouth, full and ripe. Amelda -her daughter was the result of such great love, to think if she were not, would she love her as much, she wondered.
"Am I a good Mama?"
"Mama, you are the best."
Sophie's eyes lowered. "I spoiled him, did I not?"
"If you are referring to my stronzo fratello, sí. But Mama do we not spoil those we love?"
Sophie held out her arms. Her daughter strolled with modelesque grace to embrace her with bent knees, smelling of a gentle perfume, her figure was as soft and curvaceous as Sophie's had been when she too were young.
A kiss to each cheek she planted on her daughter's rouged cheeks, smiling as she released her. "Did you enjoy your evening?"
"Don Benini is pleasant. He has wit but he kisses with too much tongue."
"And you did not enjoy the affection?"
Amelda, grinned, similarly to her fratello. "Of course I did very much. His tongue is very efficient in other places."
Sophie did not blush. She spoke openly with her daughter of love and sex. There is a major distinction, which she explained to Amelda when she reached the age of maturity about the special connection when there is love in a relationship.
"When you are in love, the moon is full and the sun shines into your heart. You hear your lover's voice and there is only love and respect. Sex, is the mechanical act, where nothing needs to exist but the parts, no emotional fusion is required, only immediate gratification to fulfill a selfish desire. But, when mutual love is involved, there is a deeper attachment, perhaps it is spiritual that transcends beyond the physical during the course of making love." That is what she told young Amelda and likely why when she fell in love with Matteo, she gave her soul to the unworthy man. Giuseppe did not kill Matteo, which she was certain of. Her daughter would have committed the deed in response to her husband's betrayal.
A mother of many, nurtures with wisdom and allows the secrets to remain hidden if that is how one copes with deep pain.
"Do you believe you will find love again?" she asked her daughter as she took a seat on the edge of the settee.
"I will let love find me."
"That is good."
"Mama, did Geo murder Nicole?" Amelda inquired.
"He did not."
"You believe him?"
"Of course."
Amelda made a face somewhat of a scowl. "He is not beyond such a thing."
"None of us are, yet he would not lie on this."
"But he lies."
"We all lie," Sophie, replied with her finger marking the page of a liar's confession in old age.
"Geo lied for me Mama."
"He is a good fratello."
Amelda examined her hands. "I did not want to harm Matteo, but I was angry Mama, he used me as if I were nothing."
"He used us all."
Amelda's eyes glistened. "Ignacio does not cry anymore for his Papa."
"He is healing."
"Sofie will never know him."
"She will know of love through her Mama."
Amelda's eyes sparkled with tears. "When I killed my husband, I saw love in his eyes for me. He did not fight Mama." Amelda laid her head on her
mother's knee to sob. "Matteo is a fighter, but he did not fight me, perché -perché?"
Sophie consoled her daughter, grateful that she found the strength to speak aloud her grief after more than a year elapsed. "He loved you, which is why. He did a bad thing but he truly loved you."
"Why could I not forgive him Mama?"
"Perhaps, you can forgive him now."
Amelda sniffled. "I will try."
"To be whole, we cannot travel with the hated luggage. There is not ample room to store the poundage. Trust your Mama and travel light, or you may miss the flight checking in the many unnecessary suitcases of junk."
Amelda laughed, lifting her head, tear streaks cutting a line through her makeup. "Mama, you are horrible at analogies. Ah," she exclaimed, wiping her eyes. "I miss Papa and Zio Alberti." Then she changed the subject mid-sentence. "Mama, have you spoken to Selange? It is unlike her not to call me directly when she receives packages I have shipped to Alfonzo's office. I designed outfits specifically for her and she knows to wear them for the publicity it brings to my line."
"I spoke with her yesterday. She is unable to attend the christening. Due to the sudden death of your sister-in-law, she respectfully mourns, as we should as well."
Amelda's expression was incredulous. "Ugh and wear black an entire month! Must we pretend to mourn a Donna that committed a grave sin? She could have adopted children; instead, she shoots herself in Carlo's presence. The silly woman should have gone to the cellar."
"Amelda!"
Amelda rose. "Ugh, she was inconsiderate. I must change the date and include Lucia and Sergio I suppose!” Amelda waved. “Buona notte." She spun dramatically to exit and then clickety-clacked to the staircase.
Sophie smiled. "Grazie, my Amelda is healed." She returned to reading the conclusion of the sordid autobiography.
Chapter Eighteen
The breeze kissed Giuseppe's cheek. A gentle caress on harsh bones was a welcoming touch on a Sunday night comforted by a dog. Giuseppe rubbed Gee's shiny coat, staring at the sky, his mind wasn't on business but his son and fratellino. Something was wrong with Alfonzo. He experienced unease.
In the quiet lamentation, he recalled the expression on Alfonzo's face yesterday and believed whatever struck him had done so with intensity. He reached for his cell, called the schmuck and received a curt greeting.