by S. W. Frank
“Hm.”
“But why contact the police? Did she hate us that much? What did she think Geo, you or Nico did?”
“Who knows what the fuck is somebody’s mind.”
“How did you find out she tried to call the cops?” She looked him in the eye. “Why did you tell Geo she wanted to send you and Nico to prison?”
“Please stop harping about the dead and focus on yourself. You’re too damn caring –give the bleeding heart crap a rest and eat –damn!”
“Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” Selange recoiled at the intensity of his venom. “So, this is what you’re becoming?”
“What Mami? What am I becoming?””
“A cold hearted person.”
“I have to be cold in a heartless world, bonita.”
“Were you drinking?”
“Nope.”
“So you’re choosing to align with the bitter masses, huh? Something out of your control happens and you turn mean.”
Allie had called him a meanie. Maybe, he was mad at cancer and the bastard that killed Marisól and Giuseppe and how powerless he felt. Everything had piled on his shoulders and god wasn’t any help.
“I’m just saying.”
“I’m too nice because I care about people. You’re a person, so maybe I shouldn’t care about you then.”
He mumbled. “Pssst, esta loca.”
“Yo sé que estoy loca, especially if sane is acting like a burro.” She retort. The anger must have risen because she increased the volume. “You know I’m super thankful that I’m not muy fea with a chip on my shoulder.” She slammed her hand on the table and scooped up her purse, dropping her shades from her head to her nose. He bet she covered her eyes to conceal the shine. “I’m the one with cancer and if anyone should be angry it’s me. Vete al infierno!” She cursed in his native tongue to get her point across in a language he understood all too well.
Everyone in the diner went silent, glancing at the stylish black woman giving her man a tongue-lashing. The bodyguard seated in the booth behind them and another in front attempted to remain aloof.
“Sientarse, finish your food and stop putting on a show –Maldito!”
“You started this public viewing to my funeral.” She peered around at the small assembly of patrons. “Excuse me everybody if I spoiled your breakfast. You see, I have cancer, which I don’t consider a death sentence, but my husband here does. He’s chosen my coffin; believe it, even thrown in roses. He will now commence with the eulogy!”
“Have you lost your damn mind by saying something like that?” Alfonzo asked in disbelief. Speaking that way before a major surgery didn’t bode well.
“Go ahead, tell everybody how overly caring I am, which is a bad thing to a heartless prick!”
When she stormed out, ass swaying in her designer dress and high heels, everyone stared at him, shook their heads and then returned to their meals.
He could’ve sworn he heard someone mutter, “He’s an asshole!”
See, bold New Yorker’s talk shit at times even when they don’t have a clue who they’re talking to, Alfonzo scowled as he dropped a wad on the table, before eating Selange’s sausage.
He examined the diners while chewing. He gestured for the server, pointed to the stack and then stood. “Take care of all these assholes’ tabs,” he said aloud and then strolled casually through the door.
• • • • • •
Selange had stomped only two blocks when he caught up with her after passing the bodyguard that had instantly trailed her steps the moment she walked past him in the armored sedan.
“Hey hold up babe,” he said, and donned his shades as he strolled alongside of her. He slowed his pace, falling in sync with her swift-heeled strides. “Lo siento, come on let’s go to the car and talk.”
“I need to walk off my irritation.”
“Mind if I walk with you?”
She wiped under the edge of her frame but the tears glistened on her cheek. “It’s a free country.”
Alfonzo’s steps were self-assured, his chin slightly inclined while he viewed the scenery. There were new buildings and people going about their business on a late Monday morning and he told her as they leisurely strolled, a partial truth. “She shot me.”
Selange stopped in her tracks, horrified. “Who shot you? Nicole?”
He stood idle. A couple in conversation wasn’t unusual, neither was the third wheel, leaning on a utility pole, pretending to be using his phone.
“Yeah.”
“Why? When?”
“I don’t know. I went there because she called me, and it was strange. I knew something was wrong. When I got there she had Geo handcuffed, Carlo on the bed and she had a gun. I tried to talk sense into her and that’s when she shot me and then killed herself in front of us.”
“What the hell? Oh, my god, no wonder you didn’t want to hear that woman’s name. Shit, she did lose her mind.” Selange hugged him, extremely tight around his neck and his torso bent to be closer to his babe. He sighed, glad to share his ordeal and that she didn’t question him further. Instead, she comforted him by fussing. Apparently, she was shocked that Carlo had been in danger.
“Carlo woke up but I covered his eyes and carried him out of the bedroom before he saw the body.”
“But, he knows she’s gone, right?”
“Yes.”
“What did Geo tell him?”
“The hell if I know. He’s been drunk since. But I told him Nicole’s in heaven with her baby because she didn’t want him to be there without a parent.”
“How did he take it?”
“He cried…but then he said he’d miss her, but he’s glad she will be there with his real Mama and brother or sister.”
“That poor kid.”
“He’s going to be okay as long as we keep letting him know, we’re here and we’re looking out for him, like his mom asked us to. When he comes back, I plan to have Geo take him to counseling if that's what he needs. ”
“Yeah…oh man…ah…this is tragic all around. Oh honey, I’m glad he has you –us in his life.”
“All right, enough sad talk,” he said, dislodging from the semi-chokehold. “We can discuss that another time. We need to concentrate on you babe. I want to make sure you’re good because I’m no bueno when you’re sick esposa.” He put his arm around her waist and propelled her toward the bookstore. “There’s a poetry reading across the street. Do you see the sign?” He pointed, fingers, poking out from the cast. “I think that’s a cool way to get our minds in a relaxed state before this surgery.”
She nodded her assent. “Okay.” She smiled after a hard sigh, covering her face in mortification. “Those people in that diner must think I’m nuts.”
The Alfonzo that didn’t give two shits about a stranger’s opinion shared the thought of one of the patrons with her. “Nah, they think I’m the asshole.”
“Sometimes you are, but I love you to death.” She replied.
His exaggerative expression was identical to their son’s Vincent’s whenever Angie socked him too hard in the gut.
She shook her head at his silliness, and then experienced a second wave of mortification when he cupped his nuts. “We could put on a real show and get arrested for lewd behavior, if you’re down for a sidewalk screw.”
“You’re sick!”
“Sí, para tú.”
Then she laughed. “OMG, you’re still something else.”
To witness that dimple pop near her lip and the carefree lilt warmed his heart. That girl from a Brooklyn housing project had stimulated him emotionally, spiritually, and sexually and he prayed for –más y más años con ella.
Chapter Twenty
“Why do you call me at this hour?” Giuseppe grumbled. He rolled on his back and kicked the frilly cover away.
“There is a meeting Saturday. You are asked to attend.”
“Katia, I am aware that you Russians are simple-minded, but certainly you hav
e seen the news, sí?”
“My sincerest sympathy for your loss Giuseppe, however, this is gravely important. You asked a favor and the answer will be given in person. The members assure your safety when you arrive in Russia, as well as your safe departure.”
“Russia? You expect me to travel to your ostentatious country. Ah, you are pazzu.”
Katia’s voice shook nervously. “Do you not care about your family anymore? I thought it is for them that you asked for my...Papa’s assistance. Have you had second thoughts?”
Giuseppe snorted. Nicole’s funeral was Tuesday. He supposed he could attend their soiree. “I will attend. Forward me the location and time by Friday morning.”
“Spasibo.”
“I do not speak your harsh language.”
“Thank you.”
“Ciao!” He grumbled, letting the cell hit the floor and turned on his side. He reached for the invisible Donna when he returned to dreamland.
• • • • • •
The polizei had cordoned off the area around the church.
The spectators and reporters were corralled behind the silver barricades.
The hearse stopped. Pallbearers removed the lovely casket his Mama chose.
A lump formed in Giuseppe’s throat and he loosened his tie as beads of sweat appeared on his forehead and his breaths accelerated.
Amelda, Sophie and Yosef clad in respectful black attire exited the automobile, believing he followed, however he remained inside the car staring at the imposing cathedral before finally stepping out.
The iconic movie star, Natalie Luna, arrived in a stretch limo with her actress daughters, Adrianna and Gabriela.
The spectators roared when the voluptuous beauty emerged in a form fitting black gown, floppy designer hat and a beauty contestant wave as if she were at a premiere.
Her daughters were on their cells, bored by the attention.
The actress sauntered to Giuseppe, trailed by her pretty entourage and imparted her condolences. She then gave him a kiss on each cheek.
“Grazie,” Giuseppe replied to Luzo’s former paramour, and then gave his half-sisters strong hugs. He dwarfed the young women, nodding appreciatively when they told offered their sympathies. “I will you meet you inside,” he said and stood rooted to the cement as they promenaded to the church doors.
The anxiety struck in waves. The bodyguards that watched offered nothing, because to the hardened lot, Giuseppe Dichenzo lacked weakness. He had a phobia –ecclesiophobia.
After the shooting on the day of Carlo’s christening he experienced a minor unease whenever proximal to houses of worship, but then the symptoms escalated when Shanda perished.
Giuseppe frowned.
Prior to Shanda’s murder, he went to confession. He had believed absolution was required before asking Shanda to be his wife. Ridding himself of philandering behavior seemed the spiritual route to attaining a happy marriage. With a person such as Shanda, he could not engage in harmless affairs if she agreed to accept him as her husband. The wars would be endless. Therefore, he sought a spiritual cleansing of his carnal sins. He had purchased an engagement ring, planned to propose by genuflecting in front of her and pledging fidelity if she agreed to become Signora Dichenzo.
Apparently, partial confessions are an affront along with bartering emotionally for selfish wants. He suffered the sting of karma from an invisible punisher and since then he shook with fear at the unseen power affiliated with religious structures.
"Hey Cuz! How are you holding up? I came straight from the airport!" Sergio exclaimed.
Sergio’s suit fit him well. Something seemed different about the younger man, Giuseppe deliberated.
Lucia and the bambina were visibly missing.
However, in light of Lucia’s recent harrowing ordeal, she probably could not handle a funeral.
"Bene grazie cugino." Giuseppe answered looking toward the plaza.
Flashbulbs and curiosity added to his suffocation. He wished Alfonzo and Nico had attended, but they were distant and inaccessible.
“I am glad you are here,” he said. He gripped Sergio's shoulder. "But, I may have to leave. Por favore, speak on my behalf."
“Huh?”
Giuseppe bent slightly to staunch the rising panic attack that spread through his limbs. “I cannot go in there.”
“Where? The church? Why not?”
“My sins are too many to enter.”
Sergio’s brows furrowed. At first he thought Giuseppe was kidding, however, the perspiration glistening from his unusually pale skin was a sign his cousin was dead serious.
“If that’s the case, the minute people enter churches, they’d all burst into flames. Word.”
“You do not understand.”
“I understand you’re Don Giuseppe Dichenzo-Giacanti, a fearless motherfucker. You’re going in there to pay respect to your wife ‘cause if you don’t people will start thinking, maybe he did kill her. You have to go in there. Everybody’s watching, besides your family has your back, now do you understand that?”
Giuseppe stiffened. When had Sergio grown a moustache?
That was why he appeared different.
Nicole's family arrived. They hurried past without a word.
"Damn they hate you," Sergio sneered.
“Sí.” Giuseppe’s blue eyes glowered, hidden behind the dark sunglasses. “The feeling is mutual.”
“Come on, let’s go Cuz.”
Giuseppe took a step, straightening his jacket, to distract from the thumping inside his head.
More strides and he reached the center of the staircase.
A woman called his name.
His head swiveled to see near the barricade, a woman with a microphone in front of a camera operator preparing to broadcast.
She waved.
He recognized the reporter. She was the journalist that interviewed him for an exposé. As suspected, he came off as a grieving husband, devastated by his wife’s suicide following her miscarriage. The mention of Nicole's prior marriage that dissolved after years of failed attempts to have bambini was a nice touch. In fact, the media began to highlight signs and symptoms of depression. Professionals in the field discussed treatment options on many channels. Although, he had played a part in his wife's disillusionment, he felt vindicated that her mental detachment from reality wasn’t solely his fault.
His head hurt, and he must have wobbled because Sergio asked, “Whoa –Cuz, seriously are you alright?”
Giuseppe rubbed clammy palms on his pants, feeling unsteady and admitted that he could not proceed.
"Yes, the fuck you can. Now move your damn feet and do what you do best."
Giuseppe actually chuckled. "What do I do best, cugino?"
"Stomp shit. Do the same thing to your fear."
Perhaps, the grin was a turn-off switch to the brain because lucidity returned. He peered at Sergio's resolute face. "Si, Don Sergio."
Giuseppe squared his broad shoulders, nodded, and pushed through the cathedral doors with siphoned strength from the unlikeliest of famiglia.
Chapter Twenty-One
"Hey Pops, what's going on -where the hell are you and Al?" Sergio inquired.
Nico ushered the kids into the van, tossing in the soccer ball and Angie's skates.
He had spent much of his day in a park with lively children. The activity wasn't comparable to a funeral. Yet, he was physically and emotionally drained. He left his wife behind with Anita and the bambini to run off their excess energy before Lorenzo tossed them out.
He hadn't contacted Sergio. He didn't want to bombard the kid with bad news, especially when the purpose of his vacation was to have a relaxing environment for his family to recuperate. Apparently, Sergio must have found out by way of the media that Nicole had died.
"I'm at Lorenzo's with the children, Al's in New York, so I have his kids with me and then we're going to the states in a few days."
He heard the disappointment. "Wow, you're sure making th
e time for everybody except me and Geo it seems...wow...I don't know why I bother to think you might change."
Nico pointed a finger at Semira when she failed to buckle her seat belt. She snapped it across her chest as he taught her and held onto the side of the booster seat with a tart face.
Nico closed the sliding door, walked around the van, scanning everything, even the innocuous trees. He didn't enter the vehicle; instead, he leaned on the door panel to talk out of earshot from the nosy children.
"Sergio, son, I wanted to be there, but I can't. There's too much press and getting photos of me with my family isn't a good idea. Also, I didn't want to interrupt your time with Lucia or I'd have called you sooner."
"Yeah, sure."
“How’s the cazzo holding up?”
“He’s doing okay. After a smoke, he relaxed a little. He said his headache’s better.”
“I bet it is.”
“The weed is better than that shit he drinks.”
“Anything abused is shit, son, trust me.”
“That’s how you feel about showing love, huh?”
Nico sighed. He was trying to connect with Sergio, but the young man was too damn needy. Sometimes, he felt smothered and when that occurred, distance is what he sought. However, he loved every frustrating piece of his son. "Hey, why don't you bring your family to the states and spend time with me and get to know some of your other family members. I'd love to have you all there."
"Don't you have your hands full?"
"Young Buck, there's always room for you. I mean that." The dark eyes peered at the pedestrian with his dog, watching his hands, observing his eyes and he straightened, remembering to remain on alert no matter how relaxed he felt.
He climbed into the driver's seat, inserted his earpiece, and activated the screens on the headrest for the kids. The twins were cruising with Sal. Allie wanted to come along and he suspected because she wanted to chat without censor to her friends. Al's twins, Carlo and Semira were easy handles really; they ate, played, shit and slept. That's all kids liked to do -and oh yeah demand.
"Are you sure?"
"I had planned to invite you anyway." Nico lied as he drove away from the entry to the park, checking the rearview mirror, searching for anything that followed.