Arsenal

by S. W. Frank

  Too bad.

  “Herete,” Lorenzo said.

   

  Lorenzo entered with a duffle bag. He looked rested.

  “Hey, busting out with the rest of us, huh?”

  “Yes, I’m going home.”

  “Yeah. I know.” Nico absorbed the sight of his nephew. He saw his brother in the physique and devilish smile. “Grazie for everything you did Lorenzo. I mean it.”

  “You are welcome. Good bye Uncle Nicolo.”

  Nico nodded. “It’s not good-bye Lorenzo. I’m here anytime you need me.”

  “I could use a lift to the airport.”

  “Nonsense, I’ll have a private plane fly you home.”

  Lorenzo smiled. “It is nice to have an Uncle with a plane.”

  “It’s nicer to have a nephew.”

   

   

   

   

   

  17

   

   

   

   

   

   

  Positioning, that’s an element of business often confused with other business concepts.

  Giuseppe rubbed the base of his lip with his thumb as the car cruised on the smooth roadway in the Northern outskirts of Borneo.

  Positioning in a market is crucial. Consistency and the incorporation of growth are demonstrative that a company’s leadership understands the necessity of evolution. He’d replaced the old fleet with modern trucks, equipped with a self-washing technology more than a year ago.

  Dichenzo Waste Management had been his father’s secret pride. He enjoyed walking through the garage, inspecting the fleet, yelling at employees, being in charge of a company that provided a service.

  The business thrived more than thirty years with a good reputation. Giuseppe intended to remain in good standing with customers, and so far, he had.

  To rise in the morning with a purposeful mission gave Giuseppe a burst of energy. Perhaps, his expectation of marriage was similar to his approach to business.

  A Mission statement highlights a company’s objectives.

  Every company has a core purpose that rarely changes. Giuseppe’s hadn’t but he understood his wife had become a liability and the time had arrived to rethink their merger.

  He scoffed; angered at the notion he endured forced abstinence for the sake of a bambino she’d lost.

  He had wanted to be faithful, then, today he did not give a shit.

  His eyes wandered to the pedestrians.

  An attractively plump bella, walked briskly with her dog. A gust wind was an invisible hand that raised her hem to show Giuseppe her round buttocks and thong.

  Giuseppe grumbled.

  Thankfully, his cell rang and he answered for his sorella.

  “Come stai?”

  “Bene. Mama says you are in Borneo.”

  “Si,” Giuseppe answered.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Business.”

  “Next month is the christening. You will stand in for Papá.”

  Giuseppe loosened his tie. The memories of a cathedral caused his throat to constrict. His tongue became dry. He recalled the mayhem and his face flushed. His heart raced at the images of those he loved, falling. His Mama, Selange holding Carlo and he rolled down the window to inhale the distinct smell of the lowland rainforest near Kota Kinabalu.

  He took slow breaths. “I cannot attend Amelda.”

  “You must attend.”

  “Ma, che sei grullo?” He exclaimed as his vehicle halted outside of a beach house surrounded by palm trees.

  A sheep pranced by the automobile and the distraction lessened the anxiety.

  “I am not joking. You are my brother. Papá entrusted you with responsibility.”

  “Dai!”

  “Giuseppe, I need the entire famiglia there. Must I repeat what Papá said you must do?”

  Giuseppe frowned. “No sorella, I will honor Papá and his wishes.”

  “Mwah –mwah ti’amu. Ciao.”

  “Ciao.”

  A lone figure swathed in flowing cotton emerged from the residence, sipping coconut water, her silhouette was as shapely as any he’d seen on many women, yet this was not any woman, she was the daughter of his father’s rival, a Russian bastard that reneged on a verbal agreement and nearly started a war.

  “Hello Giuseppe Dichenzo. Are you going to remain in the heat?”

  Giuseppe exited the vehicle, gesturing for his soldati to remain as he followed the woman inside the bungalow.

  He watched the sun setting through the large windows on the first level of the rustic structure. The double doors were ajar that led to a deck where the sparkly sand appeared like miniature diamonds.

  “Would you like a drink?” she asked, motioning him to a comfortable sofa littered with fashion magazines. His sorella graced one of the covers, a message or a coincidence, he wasn’t quite sure.

   “Bottled water will suffice,” Giuseppe answered as he lowered to the cushion, looking over his shoulders for her bodyguards.

  “I will not poison you if that is your concern,” she quipped on her way to the kitchen to fetch water from the fridge.

  “It is.”

  She laughed and he watched her suspiciously, expecting her to return with a gun instead of the water she carried in her hand.

  “Here,” she said, sitting beside him, crossing her leg to give him a view of a shapely calf.

  He twisted the cap, listening for the crack before downing the liquid in a long gulp. The magazine with his sorella’s smiling face is where he placed the empty bottle.

  “My father said you lack manners.”

  “He is one to speak.”

  Her eyes were dark. Her hair was cut in sharp angles that accented her cheekbones perfectly. Her figure was more attractive. He found her pale skin, somewhat distracting. He hoped she made use of the beach and tanned.

  “I am here to retract my sister-in-law’s offer.”

  “Hm.” The woman leaned back. “That is highly irregular.”

  He turned toward her. “What is the price to influence the others to agree?”

  She wiggled her mouth exaggeratedly. “The entire contract, or part.”

  “The entire contract.”

  She laughed. “That is absurd. What she has offered is priceless.”

  “It’s valueless to corpses.”

  She stretched. “Threats make negotiations adversarial.”

  “Call it what you like, either way, the contract is nullified.”

  ‘The families will not take kindly to your rescission.”

  Giuseppe removed an envelope from his breast pocket and slapped it on her lap. “Open it.”

  She looked up after reading the document. “How did this come into your possession?”

  “Is that incentive enough for you to persuade the others to reconsider the agreement?”

  “I will bring this to my father’s attention.” She folded the document gingerly. “On one condition.”

  He frowned. There is always a catch when negotiating with a Russian.

  “Speak.”

  “That you are able to walk to your car without falling.”

  Giuseppe discreetly fingered the weapon at his waist.

  “Relax Giuseppe Dichenzo.” She rose gracefully and strolled to the glass bar. She gestured him over with a finger. “I understand you abhor my father’s vodka.”

  “It is shit.”

  “You will drink the entire bottle of shit and if you remain standing, I will personally address the board on this matter.”

  “And how do I know you will keep your word?”

  “Unlike men, many women prefer peace over bloodshed.” She lined up shot glasses and began pouring. “Besides, we have something important in common.”

  Giuseppe tossed back a shot and then another. The liquor burned and he breathed fire. “What do we have in common?
”

  “Blood.”

  A concentrated mist of vodka sprayed from Giuseppe’s mouth. He wiped the liquor from his chin with the back of his hand. “Cosa?”

  “My mother confessed to me before she died that she had an affair with Luzo Palazzo and I am the result. My father does not know.” A smile more sinister than Giuseppe’s stretched her painted lips. “So, Giuseppe Dichenzo, we have a united cause.”

  “Dai!” He said aloud, shocked at the revelation that yet another of Luzo’s spawns had appeared.

  “My father has had many mistresses. He plans to marry the latest slut and make her my stepmother. Splendid isn’t it brat?”

  “Brat?”

  “That is brother.”

  “Do not keep calling me brother.” Giuseppe fumed.

  The man-whore slept with the Russian’s wife. Nico was a virgin compared to Luzo.

  “Yuck!” Giuseppe muttered later as he exited the bungalow, concentrating on each step, replaying the Donna’s words.

  The potent liquor caused his eyes to shine. However, he stayed erect, marching straight to his vehicle, aware that she watched. He was drunk as hell and reeling from the news, he might have another sorella. First, he had to verify the DNA.

  The crazy Russian Donna had sliced her finger and then smeared the blood on his heart. “Test my blood, brat to verify my claim,” she had stated. “If we were not blood, my dagger would have been in your heart.” She lifted the hem of her dress to show Giuseppe the blade attached to her garter belt. Then she kissed his cheek. “Until we meet again, bra.”

  Katia.

  That is her name.

  Pazzu!

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  18

   

   

   

   

   

   

  “I’m going back to New York,” Maria informed her son.

  Alfonzo heard the statement but didn’t answer right away. He was busy watching the mourners.

  “Okay.”

  Nico’s half-sisters were there, clinging to one another, weeping silently as dirt struck the expensive coffin.

  Earlier, they had greeted him with a hug when he had gone to issue his condolences. Yeah, he was sorry they were saddled to a conniving lot.

  The loud sniffling and whining over a piece of shit didn’t permeate his cold heart. He observed a relative of Bruno’s staring at his mom with a twisted mouth as if she wanted to say something, yet refrained.

  It’s true, his god-fearing mom murdered her trash of a husband and he wasn’t about to fake one motherfucking tear.

  Alfonzo flexed his good fingers and the action hurt. Nothing could prevent him standing at his mom’s side during Bruno’s funeral.  He wanted to see the man that unleashed hell on his family put in the dirt where he belonged.

  “Hijo, are you all right?” Maria asked when Alfonzo coughed to clear his throat of phlegm and spit on the burial ground.

  Alfonzo croaked a reply. “I’m good ma.”

  “I should’ve delayed the funeral for a few more days. Aye!”

  “Mama tranquillo. “

    There were glares directed their way and it wasn’t his imagination, but street instinct and observation. His mom was inheriting everything, even the kitchen sink. Family members were certain to be pissed.

   “I’m leaving right after this to stay with Carmen.”

  Alfonzo gave a subtle nod, rolled his shoulders back in the understated black suit that matched the quality of his Olivano shoes. He was respectable, in solidarity with his mom, hoping the assembly walking back to their shiny limos behaved.

  Nobody could see Alfonzo’s ocean hued eyes concealed behind the midnight shades narrow as Bruno’s surviving children crossed their path.

  They nodded, and continued on, but Alfonzo knew, if his mom didn’t get out of Firenze, he’d have to bury her, too.

  “Let’s go, Mama,” he said and he strolled protectively close to his mother, closed in by a circle of armed men. “You’re coming home with me first and I’ll escort you personally to New York.”

  “Alfonzo, that’s not necessary.”

  “Yes, Mama it is. I need to make sure Carmen’s house is outfitted properly before you arrive.” A bodyguard held open their door and he slid inside next to his mom. “It’ll only be a few days.”

  “Don’t you have a full house?”

  “Ma, we managed back in the day, didn’t we?”

  “Sí, yes we did hijo.”

  Alfonzo grinned. “They say, mas dinero mas problemas.”

  Maria agreed. “It is true.”

  She leaned back wearily, still beautiful in the eyes of her son. “It’s okay, we weathered the barrio, and we’ll come through this.”

  The vehicle rolled on the smooth pavement. Maria twisted her head to see her son’s face. “What happened hijo that day with Domingo?”

  Alfonzo inhaled. He’d avoided the conversation for so long; he’d begun to believe the topic was dead. She’d asked and in light of everything going on, he figured, they were all sinners and the world had gone mad.

  “I wouldn’t have done it, but he gave me no choice Mama.”

  “I believe you hijo.”

  Alfonzo’s cheeks were taut, and the sadness was evident in his voice. “He was ratting on me, putting my wife and kids in danger,” he paused. The anger returned at Domingo’s malicious betrayal and Alfonzo choked up. They were tight since forever, and he still couldn’t believe him primo hated him so much. “I went to see him, to talk, that’s all Mama. But then he started talking reckless and pulled a gun on me!” Alfonzo hit his chest several times. “Me -Mama –Primo pulled a gun on me! He didn’t think any of the mess he was doing to my family was wrong. He forced me to choose…and I shoved my knife right in his treacherous damn heart!”

  Maria hugged Alfonzo’s neck as the veins protruded from his collar and she grimaced at the force of his agony.

  She’d spoken with Carmen in depth since Domingo’s passing and learned Domingo was not the boy she saw in her mind. He’d grown mean or perhaps he always was and she refused to see the bad in a child.

  There were times when Alfonzo and Domingo played outdoors, Alfonzo would return with cuts and bruises. Thinking, of those times, she wondered if her son had suffered from Domingo’s abuse.

  She often hugged the little boy as he sat on her lap and whispered loving words while cleaning his boo-boo. Whenever she asked what happened, he’d have an excuse.

  “Me and primo were horsing around.”

  Today, looking back, there were many accidental injuries caused by Domingo. But, her son grew, began working out, taking self-defense classes and sports. Strange, that he was no longer accident prone or maybe he never was.

  She no longer held her son upon her knee, but she could console a son as only a mother could.

  “Ssssh hijo, we will ask forgiveness for our sins. We will all be held to task for ours sins on Judgment Day. I know, you loved Domingo…yo sé,” she whispered as the man leaned on his mother and shed a tear that was drank by her skin.

  “Mama lo siento, perdóname por favor. I was not there to protect you from that bastardo Bruno! Perdóname!

  A heartless man cannot cry; a loving man can.

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  

   

   

   

  &nbs
p;

   

  Alfonzo strolled to the bed. Selange slept.  In fact, his entire crew drooled as if they had run a marathon. He’d kissed his kids –glad to be back home and surrounded by their innocent spirits.

  He‘d done some work at the office, caught up on a backlog of messages, inquiries and checked the progress of ongoing construction projects, which took him late into the night.

  Often that’s how business is. He’s not in some dark smoke-filled room with fedora-clad men putting hits on rivals. Shit, he had better things to do and competition is always good for business. People get to choose. Once there isn’t a choice, then it’s a monopoly and damn right it’s illegal.

  One business controlling an entire industry is bullshit.

  Imagine, one book in a whole fucking library because a psycho author wanted all the readers to read only his novel, so he systematically started badmouthing the other books, got his minions to turn readers away with false shit about the other book’s content. Crazy as it sounds; Alfonzo had associates asking favors of all kinds. A pizzeria owner, even a cosmetic surgeon had the audacity to think he’d eliminate a business owner simply because his ‘competitor’ in the same industry is doing well.

  Get the fuck out of here!

  He’d never entertain that bullshit.

  Anybody in fear of healthy competition and stooped to that level caused him to wonder whether they fear their product isn’t up to par and once a consumer checks out the competitor’s, he may find it more to his liking,

  That’s the beauty of choice nobody uses force.

  He clumsily undressed, and climbed over his wife, waking her with a kiss that sucked away her oxygen. Her eyes opened, and she asked, “Wasn’t your arm hurting today?”

  “My dick don’t hurt chica,” he grinned. He kissed her again and she joined the foreplay, letting him rest atop her to avoid putting pressure on his hands.

  She helped him out, sliding out of her skimpy panty and he went in, smirking as she moaned.

  Deep into the action, Alfonzo cursed when Gee came out of nowhere and jumped his ass on the bed, rocking the mattress. He squat and shooed at the dog, ordering him to the floor and cursing under his breath for being interrupted.

  Selange laughed. “Get! Go!”

  The dog finally obeyed.

  Alfonzo chuckled when the large pit-bull took up residence on the floor. “Crazy horny dog.”