by S. W. Frank
Alfonzo inhaled. His muscles ached from the effort. “Everything okay hermano?”
Giuseppe scoffed, letting the stressful weight roll to his brother’s bedside. “Have you ever thought, there is something missing from your life and you find it among dust?”
“Were you drinking?”
“Quite a bit.”
“You should have brought me a shot and we could’ve clinked glasses to Carlo.”
Giuseppe’s head bobbled. “You knew, eh?”
“Yes. Nico mentioned it was Carlo’s birthday. He started recanting some fond memories of your old man and if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear Carlo had a halo.”
“He was a hard man, but he was good to his famiglia.”
“No doubt,” Alfonzo stated. His Uncle Carlo lived and died for family. Alfonzo clicked his tongue, stretching his sore legs. “Maybe, you should’ve gone home Geo and slept it off.”
“Next to a figlio who feigns reasons we cannot have sex.”
“You know she’s pregnant, right?” Alfonzo asked with a tilted brow. The uncharacteristic sad countenance added age. “This is the time she needs you at her side. You can’t let a phase be your reason to emotionally check out. Once you start doing that, your marriage is in trouble.”
“Humph,” Giuseppe replied right before a loud buzzing. He yanked the cell from his suit jacket on the arm of the chair. “Cosa?”
The lack of affection in Giuseppe’s voice told Alfonzo shit must be bad at home. By the nature of the conversation it might even be irreconcilable.
“Go back to sleep. I will be home before breakfast. I am visiting with Alfonzo.” Giuseppe responded to his wife’s inquiry. “Are you certain there is nothing wrong?” When satisfied that she hadn’t called for any emergency, he hung up and sat the phone near his thigh. Then Giuseppe spoke candidly to his brother. “Sometimes, I believe I am incapable of long-term relationships.”
Alfonzo took gentle breaths to ease the ache of muscle. His voice had a raspy quality. “Hmm, keep saying it and you’ll begin to believe it.”
Giuseppe’s tone turned wistful. “My parents were in love. I watched them, thinking I will have a love like theirs.” He smiled devilishly and a youthful Giuseppe appeared. “When my sorella was young she caught them in the act. She said mama was on top. I laughed because Amelda knew nothing of sex.” His intonation softened. “I see that love when you are with Selange. When Shanda died I lost my chance. With my wife, there is something missing. Even the stronzo Nico has what I have not.”
A high-pitched metallic screech resounded when Nico yanked open the curtain. He could not sleep with Giuseppe’s whining. “Oh, shut the heck up stu’ cazzo!”
Giuseppe smirked. “I take it you are awake.”
“The complaints broke through my peace.”
Alfonzo’s eyes closed. The pain returned. He remained silent as his hands caught fire. He suffered from the electrocution like shocks to his nerves as Nico and Giuseppe verbally sparred.
“Your sourness towards me is a sign you are healing. When you die I will inform the mourners how much of a stronzo you were.”
“Thanks whiney fucker!”
“Nico, chill,” Alfonzo replied. He was literally in the middle –again.
“Ne, kid. I’m sick of Geo’s bull.” Nico spat. The bandages across his chest expanded with every flare of his nostrils. He bore a hole in Giuseppe with his stare as he kicked his legs free from the institutional covering. “We’re lying in a hospital and you visit with your crap. You speak as if Alfonzo and I had it easy. But the truth is you were doted on like a king –spoiled ass brat.”
“Is that jealousy I hear cugino?”
A severe response was indicative of Nico’s displeasure. “You refuse to mature. All you do is play at love. You mess with women and screw up their heads. You were convinced you loved Lucia, that girl Tamina, Lisa, Marcella and oooh shit you hit the jackpot with nutsy Giovanna. I think she was perfect for you. The fact is Shanda wouldn’t have lasted and you know it!”
“Yo –yo chill out Nico! You’re going too far!” Alfonzo huffed. It was uncharacteristic for Giuseppe not to defend himself. Intuitively, he suspected Giuseppe’s marriage imploded with the killing of his sister-in-law.
“Ne, ne, let the cazzo finish.” Giuseppe replied with a wave of his finger, unmoved by Nico’s truth telling.
“You’re like a Viking, going from village to village pillaging.”
“And how are we different?”
“First of all, I don’t doubt how much I love my wife. There isn’t one iota of denial that I’m a bastard, and secondly, I can own up to my shortcomings –you won’t.”
“I suppose it is easy to face Ari every day when you do not feel guilt for murdering her sorella. But then again, the impenetrable Nico lacks remorse.”
Nico leaned back onto the pillow. “What you say may have merit Geo, but you’re wrong about me being impenetrable, I think my current condition disproves that statement.” He tilted his head to the side, considering Giuseppe’s feelings. “Look Geo, I liked that girl, but I didn’t have a choice, she caught me in the act.”
“You say that for absolution.”
“This isn’t a confessional. I’m trying to apologize.”
Giuseppe wiggled his back on the seat to scratch an annoying itch. “That is not an apology. I believe you enjoy killing. It has become your sport. Plus, you act without authority and I have wondered will there come a day you murder famiglia.”
“Parra come la babba! You speak like an idiot!”
Alfonzo coughed, stricken by Giuseppe’s distress and Nico’s attempt at an apology. Nico doesn’t do that ever, unless he feels that shit, Alfonzo rumored. He sought to end their feud, which seemed to flare whenever they came together. Like Giuseppe’s love life, the cousin’s civility never lasted long. Unity was required in a family, besides Alfonzo needed peace to keep his mind from exploding from the aches.
Both men were spoiled in Alfonzo’s opinion.
They were husbands and fathers with ancestry tied to the peoples of Africa. The tinge of golden brown in their complexions, the thickness of their hair and full mouths, were traits inherited from a beautiful people with roots stronger than pain. Alfonzo chimed in to kill the noise and set them back on course as if he was the tribal elder. “It’s not his fault Tiffany’s dead, it’s mine. Now cut the shit and deal with it!”
“Oh don’t go stealing my glory kid. Geo’s aware it’s people like me that’s kept our family breathing. He’s been schooled from the time he could spend money on whores, aint that right Geo?”
“But courtesy is given to the person in the crossfire, unless he is also a target.”
Nico’s nose flared. “There’s not always time. You’re making it personal.”
“It is personal, when your actions affect me.”
“What would you have me do, huh, become a magician and redo the past?”
“Tell me beforehand,” Giuseppe quipped and then addressed his younger brother. “We had agreed, did we not fratellino? You break this, eh?”
Alfonzo shifted in the bed. His ass hurt. “Lo siento hermano.” Then he coughed, shut his eyes and listened to the internal wheezing. His eyeballs smarted from the excruciating pain in his chest. He spoke to the darkness, just wanting peace between the men. “Geo cut us some slack. We weren’t intentionally trying to hurt your marriage.”
Nico sat forward. He could hear Alfonzo’s labored breaths. “Okay truce Geo, Alfonzo’s right.”
Giuseppe rose. “You are forgiven fratellino, we are good.”
Nico gripped the railing. “You need more pain meds?”
“Yeah.” Alfonzo’s attempt to speak resulted in a fit of coughs. He had contracted bacterial pneumonia and it must’ve compromised his airway. Alfonzo’s voice had a whistle sound, as he stressed a concern. “That deal Selange made will give us problems with Bruno’s family. Geo see if you can convince the famili
es to accept an all cash buy-out instead.”
Alfonzo’s torso pushed upward. Needles poked his skin.
Nico pressed the emergency button. “Stop talking kid.”
“I agree with Nico, Ssssh,” Giuseppe replied, putting his hand on his brother’s broad shoulder to still his movements.
Alfonzo’s bloodshot eyes reopened. He winced during another spasm; found Giuseppe’s firm touch had steadied his torso, but not the tremble of his lips. He leaned to the thermal heat radiating from Giuseppe’s skin. He impressed upon Giuseppe the importance of moving quickly. “Fix it Geo. I don’t want my mom in the middle.”
Giuseppe frowned. Selange had entered into a fool’s bargain. Giving the vipers Bruno’s holdings and a petty scam of Ari’s in exchange for releasing the signatory’s heirs from a debt wasn’t enough to nullify a blood contract. He suspected Selange had agreed to far more. Sí, he would fix the problem and then deter Selange from interfering in future business matters.
“Scusa!” A nurse shouted, as she hurried into the room followed by a doctor.
Giuseppe stepped back, crossed his arms, and observed the doctor examine Alfonzo. They administered oxygen and meds to the shivering patient, working in consort to stabilize Alfonzo with efficiency.
Giuseppe glanced anxiously at Nico. The stronzo looked as shitty as Alfonzo covered in all those bandages. His anger at Nico lessened. He figured famiglia was similar to the medical staff, competent as a team, yet precise at their individual tasks.
Once Alfonzo slept like a bambino and Nico dozed to his opera music, Giuseppe departed.
Every team required a good physician, especially when playing against brutal opponents.
2
Nicole hyperventilated.
Giuseppe hadn’t properly disconnected their call.
The room spun as she tried to calm the dizzying sensation after hearing the murderers confesses.
She heard everything.
They were evil people.
Giuseppe didn’t love her.
She wasn’t special, only another notch on his belt.
Tiffany was dead and Alfonzo claimed responsibility for her killing. He probably had that woman Shanda murdered, too. Maybe, she angered someone or wanted to leave. She’d never know the truth. Intentionally killing someone by staging accidents is premeditated murder.
Alfonzo, Nico and Giuseppe deserved the death penalty.
The callousness exhibited revealed their black hearts.
Nicole choked on tears. She’d been insane to believe Giuseppe had a loving soul.
Her sister warned her, but she hadn’t listened. Now the one person she could count on was dead.
“Oh god, I’m sorry,” she wailed, distraught at her stupidity. She picked bad men and Giuseppe was the worse of them all.
Nicole climbed out of bed. The soles of her feet touched the finest quality rug, a woven mixture of soft wool and silk. She panted, and leaned over to stem the nausea. She took several steps and stopped again, unable to go further due to the vile anger rising at mere thought of the evil men.
Alfonzo boasted about ordering a hit, as if Tony and Tiffany were take-out food. They were human beings and the wicked sonovabitch wouldn’t get away with what he did!
She reached the bathroom door and slumped to the floor with sunlight streaming overhead. She sank to her knees, the hem of her nightie contacted with her shin as she gagged violently.
Bile struck the tiles. Her stomach emptied, and she took out the impotent anger on her flesh, scratching her arms until they bled, and yanking her hair as punishment. She screamed to purge the twisted love from her body.
Then she silenced.
A localized flood ensued.
The moisture spread along the slope of her thighs.
Soiled and heartbroken, she whimpered pitifully, for the life she lost.
It had been too good to be true.
A good-looking man with wicked charm and a sexy accent had beguiled her. The handsome devil gave her his demon seed and she aligned with evil.
The fertility tests hadn’t lied, but the devil had her believe in miracles. Years of failed attempts to conceive during her first marriage had been a series of false positives and dashed dreams. Then virility cloaked in Sicilian beauty kissed her into a bargain for his potent semen. The powerful spell had broken and she lay in waste with her eyes finally open.
She heard evil’s heavy footsteps. The vibration of wickedness is loud and omnipotent.
Nicole looked at the floor.
Tiffany often chided that she had too much curiosity.
She was right.
The scrumptious spinach salad she’d eaten earlier and chewed to fineness floated amid human liquid in a soup-like quality. The beautiful colors of yesterday’s meal had mixed with morning’s death.
“Diu, Nicole, che succede?” Giuseppe exclaimed as he entered the bedroom.
Nicole smiled at the lovely colors, except Giuseppe gasped at the stench.
He hurried to his wife who sat in a trance with her fluids. When he reached to touch her, she recoiled, and began an insidious chant that unnerved a sane person.
“A devil entered my head, my bed, we wed, and I’m dead!”
3
“We performed a D and C. However, due to her combative state, I administered a mild sedative. There weren’t any signs of trauma to the fetus. Preliminary tests show your wife may have contracted a severe UTI, which likely led to the spontaneous abortion. I cannot definitively tell you that is why she was unable to carry the baby full-term, until I review the complete lab report.” The Doctor shoved delicate hands in the pocket of his white jacket. “We must also determine if the nervous breakdown is attributable to an underlying mental health issue as well.”
Giuseppe’s cheekbones were straight lines, pulled taut by tension as he listened to the Doctor. His blood pumped angrily that he lost yet another child and saddled with an aftermath of guilt.
Why had his moglie considered him the devil?
Certainly, he was bad, but a diavulu –cosa –that is madness, he rumored with an irritable twist of his sensual mouth.
Beneath the bright light, the self-inflicted scratches were visible on her face and arms. In Sicilianu, the physician suggested he return tomorrow once they assessed her mental state.
“I will stay until she is well,” Giuseppe replied.
The wiry physician appeared sympathetic. “She is highly agitated by your presence. The psychiatrist will meet with her but it is best if you are not here when she awakens.”
Thankfully, Carlo had slept through the incident. Giuseppe ordered a guard to feed the boy when he awakened and Gee before he rushed Nicole to the Luca Clinic.
The morning had transitioned to noon. He hadn’t eaten, Carlo had missed school and now he longed for the fresh air to absorb all that transpired.
Giuseppe acquiesced to the doctor’s request but issued several rules.
“My wife’s admittance must remain confidential. There are to be no visitors without my approval. You are to have the psychiatrist contact me immediately. I am posting a guard at the door to ensure you
comply, capisce?”
Giuseppe did not wait for a response. A foul odor clung to the clothes that he needed to remove. He had carried his wife to the car and cradled her in the backseat like an infant as the driver rushed to the hospital.
Her incoherent babbling remained fresh in his mind and he admitted his ego was offended.
“Diavulu –bah!”
He approached the bodyguard leaning on the wall near a rolling cart with plastic bins. “Tomasso, no one is to visit this room and Signora Dichenzo is not to leave. Call me if there is an emergency.”
“Sí, Signore Dichenzo.”
Giuseppe walked to the elevator. His wife’s room was on the second floor of the private facility. Alfonzo and the others were on the heavily guarded top floor. Currently, he preferred to mourn his loss in a glass of Vodka, but sneered –ne he wanted a clear head.
Once the Don entered the elevator Tomasso dialed a number. When the man on the line answered, Tomasso gave him a coded rundown of the events.
“Hmm. I am sending a Boy Scout over.”
Tomasso nodded. “Sí, Signore,” he replied without breaking a rule by using the man’s name.
Anyway, the Boy Scout was Silvio. He’d debug the room and then likely install hidden surveillance cameras.
The call ended and Tomasso exhaled with relief. L’alta Protezione had gravel to his voice that could be quite intimidating, not to mention his notorious reputation. His orders superseded Don Dichenzo and to disobey any of the rules might result in an unpleasant penalty. The accidental death of a Protezione seemed reason to avoid upsetting Nicolo Serano.
“Salutamu,” a pretty nurse smiled as she passed.
She stopped at Signora Dichenzo’s door and he rushed to block her entry. “You cannot enter.” He smirked, liking the wrinkle of her freckled nose and cherry colored mouth, puckered for someone to kiss.
“I must check the patient’s vitals.”
Tomasso thrust his pelvis forward and she stepped back. “And I must check your ID.”
The nurse unclipped her badge, shoving it at him with a frown.
Tomasso leisurely examined the name and picture. “Viola. Hopefully, that is your real name,” he teased and then scanned the tag with his watch. Every Protezione had the high tech bands, courtesy of la Patrone. When a guard has special security detail, a check of everyone’s ID is mandatory prior to physical contact with a Giacanti. Tomasso believed the scanner-detected forgeries; however, the device verified a person’s identity from a fingerprint.
