by S. W. Frank
“Yes, if you don’t make amends we’re dead –all of us.”
Alfonzo lifted the bottle. “Come on, let’s go, you’re recanting an old man’s paranoia.”
“Honey, did you hear me?”
Alfonzo walked briskly to the glass doors. He heard just fine. The problem was Selange didn’t. He wondered if she missed the context clues that should’ve told her, he read Nicolo Giacanti’s tell-all, too.
Selange was on his side and the bodyguards on point, as usual as they escorted the couple to the limo. When the doors shut, Alfonzo tapped a button and the privacy partition closed out the world.
They were alone, but together.
“What Al, what?” Selange implored. “You knew all along, didn’t you –didn’t you?”
“Yeah babe.”
“You know about Nico and Vin then, too. Vin or Nico as the first-born sons of a Giacanti was meant to be the Don, not you and when Vin died, Nico was the person in charge. Your fucking father took it upon himself to alter the order. Maybe, he didn’t know, that’s what Nicolo Giacanti believes but the fact remains, Nico is the predecessor. The contract is straightforward. The signatory of the select group on the contract were pirates and smugglers, really bad people at that time. Semira and her husband sought to ensure the family was able to move goods to Africa and the other continents. In exchange they pledged their loyalty, and every forefather and their future generations became liable for upholding the agreement that includes giving access to any ports to fellow members, no questions asked. The explicit term ‘ports’ is used because air travel was fairly new but the shipping industry was a certainty. You have to make things right Al, if you don’t someone’s going to kill us for breaching that contract. The twenty-seventh happens to be the date it was written. Why they haven’t done it sooner is speculative, but I believe there’s something they’re after and they may believe you have it.”
“Yeah, babe, but it doesn’t change the roles we’re in. Alberti, Carlo and Luzo agreed to name me the heir. Nico didn’t want any part of this growing up and neither did I. Anyway, the Giacanti brothers weren’t aware of that agreement. Nicolo Giacanti didn’t care to share the information until now.” Alfonzo scoffed. “Anyway, it wouldn’t change the fact that I’m knee deep in shit with the mob and trust me, they don’t care about our problems with some pirates. They only care about money and they want theirs now.”
He reclined, his mouth going around the neck of the bottle.
Champagne for a funeral because he wasn’t agreeing to any terms that included his family, nor ask a man to put himself on the front line when he’d done so many times. Titles and bullshit aren’t meaningful anyway. People only respected money and force, honor had died and the only honest profession left was prostitution, until the pimp comes along and exploits the hooker.
Selange frowned. “You’re leaving me, aren’t you?”
He swallowed. “Babe.” His heart thumped. There was a chance he wouldn’t make it home after the dreaded gathering. “I’ll never leave of my own free will, but I promise, I’ll fight to get to you and die in your arms if that’s the way our love story must end.”
“Al, stop don’t say that.” She cried. “We’ll figure this out together. I know you never wanted this life, neither did I, but don’t sacrifice yourself thinking if you’re dead, your family’s out. We’re never out Al; somebody is always going to pull us in because we are part of the mafia. Our associates and every illegal thing we’ve done makes us that, ” she sadly stated, not proud of the killings or the manipulations but able to speak honestly without guilt.
Selange read him like an open book.
“I can’t bargain another part of my soul. There’s some things babe that I’m just not willing to compromise –like you.” He shook the bottle. Half remained and he figured before they reached home, he’d have consumed the remainder. “I’m meeting with a special group. It’s a special get together here in Palermo at six. If I don’t return by the morning I want you to take the kids to Carmen’s immediately. Contact the chair of the African Studies Department at my alma mater. She’ll fill you in on the arrangements I put in place concerning the artifacts. You’ll have to attend the scheduled press conference for me and tell the story about Semira and then you go about living. My final wish is for you to be happy babe, do that for me –por favore.”
Desperation filled her eyes. “The twenty-seventh? Al didn’t you hear anything? Please, we go there together then. You’re not cutting me out of this decision. Let me help or die trying –please honey, we go together.”
Ironic, that she’d say that. However, nobody was going to use his wife as a bartering tool. He didn’t trust any of those guys. Nah, he loved Selange, and if he took her along and anybody touched her or talked wrong, he’d lose his cool. He couldn’t risk having his babe caught in the crossfire.
“For once, be a good soldier and obey an order.”
The Capo’s voice emanated from the intercom as the car rolled along. “Lo siento, you have an important call.”
Al took the cell when the partition descended. He focused on his wife’s sad face as she fingered away a tear. “What’s up?”
“I have an insect which entered my establishment under false pretenses. The creature says it is a friend of the family and must deliver a message only to you. Before I kill him, are you interested in an audience with a living corpse?”
Alfonzo cupped his wife’s hand and his eyes narrowed. The beginning of the end neared. However, he planned to spend time with his family and have that final dance with Selange in the event he was right.
“He says Vincenzo Serano gave him a gift when he was a kid.”
Alfonzo stiffened, awakened from his reverie. The mention of Vin, reminded him there is an honor among bad men. “I’ll be right there and he better be breathing.” He looked at his wife. “I’m dropping you home.”
Chapter 17
Nico kissed his angel good night, watched when she rolled on her side and fell asleep like a steel laborer. He grinned before trudging downstairs to check on Anna.
He halted at the foot of the sofa, shaking his head at how much the girl reminded him of the one upstairs. The large screen showed she’d fallen asleep while watching a classic. She was missing the musical number where the gangs were swinging switchblades and bats while stepping toward one another. He liked the oldie, thought there was a message to be learned when young lovers defy their families to be together –they die and that’s heavy stuff.
He shut off the TV, covered her with a throw and then went to fetch a beer before hitting the cellar for a smoke. He padded over to the crate, sat cross-legged on the floor and raised the lid, taking a healthy gulp of beer before sitting it aside.
The buzz from his pocket had him reaching for the device instead of the mahogany case.
“Hey my lady, coming home soon?” he asked his wife while eyeing faded papers peeking out from under empty boxes. Alberti certainly packed his stogies well, he thought.
“We’re leaving tonight. My parent’s act like they haven’t seen me in years. I’m also milking the broken arm thing.”
Nico chuckled simultaneously removing the humidor. He put it on the floor when curiosity sent his fingers to grasp a folder. He put Ari on speaker. “You’re shameless. How are your folks?”
“They’re okay, getting older. I think I might need to visit them more often.”
“Yeah,” Nico stated. He opened the folder and found a newspaper clipping from the New York Post that had begun to fade.
The headline read, Beloved Teacher Killed in MVA.
“How’s ‘Mira? How are you holding up?”
“Stiamo bene. ‘Mira’s sleeping like a log, so is Anna.”
Nico looked at the date of the article. He frowned wondering why Alberti cared about an incident involving a New York schoolteacher. He thumbed through the folder and found more articles, which included the murder-suicide of a Queens Mafioso by his mistress.
Nico scrambled to his knees, he recalled that hit. Sophie and her late husband were the ones who did that job. Then he spotted the sealed envelope with his name scribbled across the center and recognized his brother’s sloppy handwriting. He caught a chill, feeling the icicles in his brain.
“Nico, did you hear me?”
Shit, he forgot Ari was on the line. “Repeat that Ari.”
“I asked if you’ve spoken to Al and if he’s planning on making my life miserable?”
“Don’t worry sweetheart, you’re good. Just stay your nice ass out of trouble.”
“I’ll try, anyway, how’s our grandbaby?”
“Bene –another bit of good news is Maria convinced Bruno to agree to send me Alexandros.”
“That’s a real 360 for Bruno.”
“I think he finally realized I’m Alexandros’ dad and my son is not living under anybody’s roof but mine!”
“Well I better hurry my butt home then.” She laughed. “When is this taking place?”
“Soon.”
Curious about the contents, Nico decided to investigate. He withdrew a handwritten letter, dated a year before Vincent died. He began reading and right away, knew Vin had written the letter.
‘Pazzu Nico –yeah fratello I can read and write. I’m not studious like you but over the years, I started reading more. Today I sort of had the notion to write this letter in case I croak before you.’
“Nico –Nico!”
“Huh, cosa?” Nico exclaimed. “Excusi sweetheart, I must’ve dozed off. I’m beat.” He lied, eager to continue reading.
“This is early for you. Being with kids can tire you out.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure can.” He mumbled, scanning the paragraph as a lump developed in his throat. “Buona notte amore, ti amo.”
“All right, go to sleep. I love you mucho and I’ll be home soon. Bye.”
“Ciao love,” he said and then set the cell aside to absorb Vin’s letter.
‘…There’s a lot to apologize for, lying to you over the years for starters. I have a son, his name’s Lorenzo. Got the mother pregnant when I was 13. She was scared to tell her parents and ran away, that’s why I left that night the old man came home and found me gone. I took her to Greece and she’s been there ever since. Vasos Tsiakrokis arranged her marriage to one of the Cuvato’s. She was older than me and I’d screwed up her life so I figure I’d do right but sometimes I wonder if I had, capisce? You probably don’t. You’re the guy who needs to be there for your children but I’m a mess fratello, not good father material. I need to come clean. In Coney Island I might’ve screwed you over too. If by chance some kid pops up looking for me and believe I’m his or her papa and says the mama is from Brooklyn, you better take a paternity test bro because it ‘aint me it’s you. Yeah, you might have knocked up Cotton Candy when you were tripping off those mickeys. That night Cotton Candy arrived at the motel looking for me. I sort of implied you were me when I let her in the room before I split to have a session with a grown woman. I don’t know what happened after I left you with her, but I figure you got it on. I felt bad, afterward, you know and years later I tried to find Cotton Candy, even drove around Coney Island, hoping to find her, that’s hard without a government name, every hot woman is a Cotton Candy…’
Nico drank his beer. “I’ll be damned. Vin you sonovabitch, are you telling me from the grave, Sergio is my kid?”
‘…I'm not proud of what I’ve done to an innocent man. The drugging and alcohol I did wasn’t to be reckless. I did those things to numb the hardness of killing. When I visited you in New York on our birthday and took your car I went searching for Cotton Candy. I wanted to know if she might’ve had a child and if so, was it yours. Curiosity ate me alive. Seeing you watching over Alfonzo the way a papa does for a child got me to thinking, maybe if you did have a bambino, you’d loosen up, smile more and be happy. I know you were miserable you were and that hurt me Nico. I worried too much about you, and figured you needed something other than the job.
I believe I find trouble or trouble finds me, either way, I’m responsible for the death of an innocent man.
I ran a red light, been drinking, the usual and I tell you I had no fucking idea Alfonzo would get with his daughter.
Guilt’s been nibbling at me every time I had to look that woman in the eye…and tits. She has nice tits that one. Anyway, fratellino…yeah you are a few minutes younger and as the oldest I should’ve been looking after you more but really Nico you’ve been the mature one.
I can’t change what I’ve done. I’m a killer, we both are, but somehow I think with everything I’ve done I aint going to outlive you. I’m good with that, sí fratellino but what will make me happy is knowing you’re going to be all right.
I got to see that man’s daughter is happy…. hopefully I’ve made up for those wrongs I’ve done and…’
There were flashing lights on the ceiling. Nico viewed the camera, folded the letter and concealed the paper beneath the base of the case before rising to allow access to the visitor.
By a hellish and wicked fate, the person approaching was none other than Sergio.
Chapter 18
“I told you what you were thinking was crazy,” Chocolate whispered to Lorenzo as she passed him a bottle of water.
“Give him the water and leave Diana –ora!” One of Yosef’s henchmen admonished, before waving his gun in her direction.
“Come on Ricky, let me clean his eye,” Diana said pulling an antiseptic wipe and bandage from her purse after passing Lorenzo the water.
The man was tied to a beam in the basement and wasn’t going anywhere, besides Ricky owed her a favor and she was cashing in the chips.
“Fretta! Clean but no bandage, the boss will see.”
“Diana? Nice name, but I like Chocolate better,” Lorenzo said with a smirk as she lowered to the floor to quickly to treat the gash above his eye.
“Ssssh,” she whispered. “They’ve gone through your car. You really have a death wish, don’t you?”
“Guess I do,” Lorenzo replied, straightening his legs, glad she cared.
“Look, by some stroke of fortune if you make it out of here, ask the old man at Antonio’s Bakery on Vino Plaza where to find me. Say D wants the Antonio special.”
“Enough! Va Diana!”
The cellar door opened and she stood.
Multiple footsteps resounded on the stairs, drowning out the usual creaks. She looked up and saw her boss and a pair of men. Right away she noticed the finely dressed and sinisterly handsome of the bunch. She recognized the face, not many in Sicily were unaware of the Latino Don, Alfonzo.
“That’s him?” Alfonzo asked.
“That’s the garbage,” Yosef replied, motioning for Diana to get lost.
Lorenzo watched Chocolate ascend the steps. The door shut and then Alfonzo approached. He hovered above Lorenzo, clad in an Ermenengildo Zegna tuxedo, at least that’s what Lorenzo assumed judging by the high quality threads. Except, he was wrong. The tailor of Alfonzo’s suit hailed from Harlem and skilled at sewing haute couture. He only required fine fabric.
Alfonzo tugged on the t
highs of his trousers made from Super200s high-grade wool from New Zealand where ironically the Merino stock, basically Spanish sheep multiplied. See, a Spanish sheep was on his Latino body.
Eye-level with Lorenzo, Alfonzo looked as if he was about to chat with a kid. However, Alfonzo and Lorenzo were close in age, except the man on the floor wore the cuts of life on his face. What he saw in Lorenzo’s gaze was a man who partied and had bar brawls over skanks.
“Nice shiner,” Alfonzo stated.
“Nice suit.”
“Gracias.”
“Zegna?”
“Nah, sewn by a Boricua. Where did you buy yours?”
“Off the rack.”
“Hmm, nothing wrong with that.” You can tell a lot about a man based on what he wears. Alfonzo rubbed his chin. “You say Vincenzo gave you a gift, what kind?”
Lorenzo motioned to the chain around his neck. “He gave me this when I was kid and he thought he was dying. His initials are on the clasp.”
Alfonzo examined the clasp. The V and S could mean anything, vagina-sex or Victor Stallone for that matter. “Doesn’t mean shit to me. You could’ve stolen this.”
“But I didn’t.”
“What do you do for a living?”
“I worked for my father in the import-export business.”
“Smuggler?”
“You already know that.”
The eyes dissecting Lorenzo were a brilliant blue. He’d met many Mafiosi in his line of work, however the Don eyeballing him possessed something they lacked, an undeniable lethal elegance and class.
“What is this message you have for me?”
“Grigori Tsiakrokis was murdered along with my family three weeks ago. He told me to warn you before he died…something about an Armenian hit.”
“You’re looking for answers but I have a shitload of questions.” Alfonzo’s eyebrow arched as he stood. “Like why the hell are you carrying around somebody’s finger?” Alfonzo asked as a guard came forward with a plastic bag that contained Grigori’s decayed digit.
“Grigori put that in my pocket before he died.”
