by S. W. Frank
Nico closed the conversation. “Any emergencies arise; you know how to reach me.”
Amelda suddenly instigated herself between the men to give Matteo a lipstick kiss. “We go home darling. I miss the baby.” She blew a kiss to Nico and settled in the car. She rolled down her window and put on her dark shades to tell him, “Uncle Nicolo I like the hair, but put more mousse on the top. Ciao!”
Nico said farewell when Matteo joined his wife. “Have a safe flight!”
The others were soon loaded in the remaining cars and he walked to the tinted vehicle where Ari sat and opened the backdoor and then kneeled inside. “Where’s the boys?”
“They’re riding with their cousins. Sophie and I are riding with Bruno.”
Nico accepted this. “Okay,” he said before reaching in to palm her stomach. The baby kicked and he smirked. “Active kid.”
“Yeah.”
His eyes were soft. “You know I love you right?”
Ari touched his cheek. “I apologize for being such a bitch. I’m blaming it on your seed.”
He laughed in response. “I get blamed for quite a lot. It’s my curse.”
Ari didn’t believe he was cursed. Stubborn and wild, definitely. “Don’t let me have this baby without you Nico. I want you holding my hand.”
He gave her a long kiss and caressed her jaw with his thumb. “We’re doing this one together. Count on it.”
She held his arm, leaned her cheek on it to feel his warmth and kissed his inner wrist. “Be careful, I love you.”
Shortly after, the guests were gone. Nico inhaled and marched to the guest house. He had a plane to catch and his battered nephew's ass was coming along!
****
The speedboat raced across the Bocas Del Dragón strait, cutting the currents like a flying fish. Sprays of water slapped Alfonzo’s face as he steered toward the Monos Island, down-the islands, the Trini’s called it. He was just glad the weather cleared after two days and they were able to visit this place.
Alfonzo could see the small island. It was one of the five Bocas islands between Venezuela and Trinidad, famous in the region for a particularly loud monkey, Selange desperately wanted to see. He was feeling good, light as a feather in body and spirit. For the last couple of days, they were a normal couple.
Selange had given the cliché a bag of tricks new meaning. Every night she pulled something different from that LV duffle bag in the closet and man did she make him wonder what else she had in store. The cop outfit was the sexiest one so far and when she handcuffed him and put him in jail it wasn’t any detention center he’d visited before.
He stole a glance in her direction as he maneuvered the boat. She wore shorts and a tank top. The bright orange life vest even looked good. Her ponytail whipped from side to side with the wind. His esposa hadn’t worn a stitch of make-up. Nothing on his babe consisted of an artificial sweetener. Unadorned or stripped naked, his chica was fine. Busted, she caught him looking and he winked.
Beres Hammond blared from the radio and he sang along to the reggae classic in Spanish. “Many did try but couldn’t steal my honey, many did try but couldn’t get to love, some fool did try to trick her with his money and wonder what she made of.”
Selange waved her arms in the air as the boat soared across the water and yelled the chorus, “She just loves this groovy little thing we got going.”
Alfonzo continued the lyrics, “Many did try but she wouldn’t leave me…this woman just love this groovy thing we got goingand it’ll last as our hearts still beating.“
“I think she just love this groovy little thing we got going. And it’ll last as our hearts still beating!” she shrieked in song.
They laughed when the song ended, by then they arrived at the dock and Alfonzo tied the boat.
Soon they were hand in hand strolling along the island famous for the howling monkey. Alfonzo didn’t have the heart to tell her, she’d likely find perhaps two in Peru, or an animal refuge in the Amazon but none here. They walked the sandy beach and sat to talk, not about business or problems, but life and their goals for the children. In this quiet time, he found a lost part of himself. The inner part of a kid who truly wanted to do good, yet somehow it slipped away. There were moments with her and the children the goodness returned but it never lasted long. Once he assumed the role of Capo de tutti, goodness fled.
She wiggled her toes in the sand and hugged her knees. “I just want our children to know they’re loved. One day, they’re going to get the negative version of us from someone,” she shook her head saddened just thinking about it, “but if they know their parents were always good to them, maybe they won’t judge us too harshly.”
“We want the same things, nena.” He scooped up a handful of sand and opened his fingers. It poured back to the beach. They were specks on the shore, encapsulated within an invisible enclosure, as part of life’s hourglass. His eyes absorbed the waters azul shimmer. An ocean of love is what he felt for Selange. He prayed for an ocean of time to spend with her, but there were naggings at his gut and chest. The sand in the hourglass warned he was running out of time.
“What are you thinking about Alfonzo?”
He exhaled, twisting in her direction. See, she knew him, knew when to jump inside his head and lasso him out. His cowgirl honey wanted to save her cowboy. “How I’d like forever with you.”
“Let’s simply appreciate every minute together and let them add up to the forevers.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“No plan, those always fall through.”
There was the Alfonzo signature grin. “Somebody’s grown into a wise old woman.”
“Old is such a compliment. It’s survived when others have not.” She suddenly leaped on him and they toppled to the sand. “My King, can I kiss you?”
“Hell yeah!”
The rest of the day they island hopped. They ate at a shack of a restaurant on Dracos trekking around and talking to one of only four residents of the island. They were offered a homegrown sample of the woman’s Noni juice and Selange was told by the native the howling monkey had become virtually extinct. Alfonzo downed the antioxidant, Selange held her breath and followed suit, but later confided as they walked the beach it was the nastiest thing she tasted in her life and she’d rather drink her own piss.
“Have you drunk piss before?” He enquired.
“No, but it has to taste better than that.”
He chuckled. “I don’t know. It was good to me.”
“That’s because you have an iron stomach.”
“I had to acquire one when you were learning how to cook and I was the guinea pig. I might’ve died if I didn’t.”
She pinched his arm. “That’s mean.”
“It’s the truth, but you’ve gotten better.” He laughed.
The day was leisurely, a nice affirmation of love and unity. Once they returned to the villa, it was Selange who crashed in bed fully clothed. Alfonzo broke the rule not to call home. But, hell he missed his kids and his wife did, too. Besides, she’d broken the rule first. Yeah, he saw when she snuck to the bathroom in that restaurant with an anxious expression. It wasn’t the look of a woman wanting to take a dump, either. She missed her children and was phoning home like E.T.
CHAPTER TWENTY
A soft pillow cushioned his head and a stiff white hospital sheet covered him as if he were dead. After yesterday’s embarrassing display of weakness he found himself scowling a lo
t. Thank the saints her car remained operable after the bad weather. The navigational system directed the driver to the hospital and during the ride, Giuseppe experienced intense anxiety. Witnessing childbirth and seeing what he may have created bundled in Shanda’s arms gave him palpitations. What if’s were the conversations he had with himself and the fear stemmed from the unknown.
They were in this dull hospital room with walls a faded color of lime.
The baby was fine, a healthy baby boy, who weighed not quite six pounds despite his premature entrance into the world. The potential father was drained of blood to determine paternity upon Shanda’s request. She wanted to prove he was the father before she gave the baby a name. The wait for the results had him in a state of panic because the infant was the cutest ever, very pale though with what Giuseppe called a baby grin.
When he thought the stress of delivery ended, he was thrown another turn. During the night Shanda began to bleed profusely. It was an endless colorful flow as if she’d been shot in the pussy.
The night nurse and physician rushed in the room at Giuseppe’s cry. He watched in a heightened panic praying fervently Shanda did not die. The nurse worked with urgency; she started an IV to give an intravenous oxytocin as the doctor massaged Shanda’s uterus to help it contract. She was then catheterized to make sure her bladder was empty. This took minutes but to a frightened and helpless Giuseppe it was too long.
Whatever medication they gave did not stem the tide and the compression to her uterus failed. The doctor spoke to the nurse and plans to transport Shanda to the operating room were made. The nurse mentioned PPH and he had no idea what it meant until he grabbed her arm and asked her to speak English. “She has a post-partum hemorrhage and the doctor is trying to stop it.”
This emergency crisis recently happened and eversince he'd become a nervous wreck. He bolt upright on the pleather little couch beside the window and his heavy feet contacted with the floor. The sun failed to wake, which told him morning had yet to come. Shanda remained in the OR; the D and C only slightly slowed the bleeding. The doctor spoke to him about a possible blood transfusion, and he then added, “We will monitor her vitals overnight and if they’re unstable we need to do an emergency transfusion.”
Worried and anxious Giuseppe trotted to the patient bathroom to splash cold water on his face and use the cheap oral products provided to clean his teeth. He gargled with the complimentary mouthwash and spit foam into the sink. In the mirror he saw himself, unkempt, unshaven and heavy eyes rimmed with shadow. The tight white t-shirt purchased from the gift shop clung to his muscular chest, unable to disguise the chiseled contours.
Giuseppe grumbled, rolled his head and tossed self-pity to the floor. He must do something for the girl. She had family and they should know her plight he decided. First, he called Alfonzo to tell him the situation. He heard Selange’s voice shrieking when told and Giuseppe bowed his head miserably. “Have Selange call the family fratellino; ask her to do this immediately.”
“Yes, Geo she’s making the call and we’ll be there soon.”
“Grazi fratellino. I do not know what to do.”
“Focus on the baby Giuseppe. Begin there.”
“Sí.”
When Giuseppe got off the phone with his brother, he squared his shoulders. “You are Giuseppe Dichenzo. Get hold of yourself!”
He walked with confidence to the hall, ordered his guard to fetch coffee before stopping at the nurse’s station to enquire about the test results.
The nurse flittered nervously around, searching for a document. The tall Italian with those gorgeous eyes the nurses whispered about stood right in front of her. They said he was someone important, why else the personal security outside the patient’s door. His name was Giuseppe Dichenzo. She researched it on the internet. The articles and pictures on display said he was the leader of organized crime, but there was not a mention of a wife. Perhaps, they were married on the island; many came here to exchange nuptials. She figured the patient; Shanda Dichenzo must truly love the brooding foreigner because Giuseppe Dichenzo was a notoriously dangerous man.
“Un momento.” She put the mother’s name in the computer and read the results. She didn’t have the authority to divulge the information without the doctor’s approval. “The doctor will talk to you about the test results.”
“What is there to talk about?”
Giuseppe walked around the privacy counter. His impatience trumped civility as he pushed the woman aside. “Sir, you cannot be in this area,” from the nurse fell on deaf ears.
Giuseppe crouched down, holding the back of the talking woman’s rolling chair. He let her speak but heard nothing she said as he read the screen. Shanda’s blood type was B, O. Giuseppe knew he was A, O. The bambino had type O.
“Sir, the doctor will explain what the test results mean.”
Giuseppe examined the nurse sideways. Did she believe every person without a medical degree was a simpleton? He passed biology with A’s despite his current profession. He knew exactly what the possibilities were. In order for a baby to have O type blood, the father must have A, O and the mother B, O. There’s a twenty-five percent chance of getting the O type blood because there are four possible outcome: A, O B, O A, B and O, O. If a baby does get the O,O result then it will have O blood.
Giuseppe rose. “I am aware of what this means.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Sergio walked beside his uncle in silence. Nico wasn’t the small talk type guy. He asked questions, you answered or otherwise he demanded you stay quiet. They were heading to another one of Chip’s spots in Sheepshead Bay after leaving Canarsie. This was a place Sergio preferred not to be seen. He tried to tell Nico on the plane ride, this wasn’t such a good idea. However, Nico ignored him, leaned his head back and fell asleep. Sergio got the hint then and found other forms of distraction by way of a girlie magazine.
It would have been cool flying in a luxury jet with many amenities, except Sergio knew what the stakes were if they got Chip mad.
Nico took in the scenery. Restaurants, bars, clubs and shuttered storefront business that operated during the day were on this street. This area was predominately Russian. The people coming and going speaking were the evidence. They also received curious glances which Nico assumed had to do with his hair. He stopped in front of a bar, it wasn’t the 21 Club but it wasn’t seedy either. He pulled on the brass doorknob and entered the dimly lit establishment. Tables lined the walls and on the opposite side was a long semicircular bar where several men cradled drinks which they set aside when the new patrons entered and glared at the visitors with unwelcome expressions.
Nico noticed the pictures on the walls of Italian Americans. This was a mafia spot. Nico wondered what the hell Sergio got himself into.
“What can I do for you?” A man who appeared asked as he blocked Nico’s progression.
“I’m here to speak to Chip.”
“What’s your name?”
“Tell him Sergio,” Nico answered.
The bouncer looked past Nico at Sergio and told the pair to stay there and disappeared down the aisle toward the rear.
Sergio seemed jittery Nico observed. He should be. Whoever, this Chip guy was, it was evident he was out of Sergio’s league. To have a place like this took money and friends.
The man returned and led them to the back, where they were escorted to the basement. They were stopped and frisked at the foot of the s
tairs before allowed to proceed. Another type of party took place underground. Strippers worked the poles, others openly entertained well-dressed men.
Nico paid attention to the details. Prostitution and loan-sharking in Brooklyn were the Caminello’s. Alfonzo frowned on the prostitution, he didn’t demand those who dabbled in it to forego the practice, he gave them a choice. They could do business as usual, minus the underage girls or upgrade to gentlemen and leave the pimping and exploitation of women alone. Unfortunately, in the real world, there is low-life scum.
The room on the side of the action had a bulletproof door, he could tell by the thickness and frame. This was Chip’s office, where he counted his money and watched monitors, nothing shocking to Nico; he’d seen thousands of holes like this.
“So, Sergio you brought a friend. I hope he’s here to help you carry my money and not for more talk.” The stocky man sitting behind his desk exclaimed the second Nico and Sergio were ushered into the office.
Sergio started to speak, “I-.”
“I came along to make sure you keep your word once he pays off his debt.” Nico offered, shutting the kid up midsentence. This wasn’t time for the blabbering. This was a mob spot and unless the boy had superhuman powers, one misstep and his ass was dead. Nico could protect his own ass but he wasn’t about to be a shield for a stupid kid.
Chip’s lips pulled down, “Hmm, that’s nice but Sergio here is the person I was talking to and not you.”
Nico noticed Chip’s full-time employee spread his legs in a threatening stance in the periphery. “I’m his mouthpiece; he’s lost his voice.”
“I hope you can back-up the tough talk, ‘cause Sergio surely can’t. Did he show you what happens when you bark loud but you’re really a mouse?” Chip asked and scratched his chin, “Only a blind person sports shades at night.” He directed the comment to Sergio who tried to cover up the bruises on his eyes which Chip took as a sign of disrespect. “Take off the glasses. I like seeing a man’s eyes when I speak!”
Sergio did and Chip grimaced, “Damn I thought I hit you in one eye. I didn’t know I did all that!”