Amoroso

by S. W. Frank

  “Did you kill him?”

  “No.”

  “Now why would he give you his finger Lorenzo, eh?”

  “I thought you might know what it meant.”

  “No, not a clue.” Alfonzo frowned. “Fucking shame he couldn’t articulate what the hell he wanted to say or maybe what happened is the message is lost in your translation.”

  “Or maybe he thought you were smart and might figure it out.”

  “Or maybe pendejo he sent a dummy who thought I cared to try.”

  Lorenzo’s eyes flashed angrily. “Have you seen blood pouring from people you love and then begins to seep into your clothes? When he sent me to you, maybe he thought you would help find the people who would kill elderly and children as some kind of sick payback. Maybe he thought there was honor in your finger or maybe he was wrong!”

  The statement received a snarl. Then Alfonzo leaned over and with champagne breath struck Lorenzo in the face with words. “Sí Lorenzo Cuvato, if that is who you are. I have seen many deaths. I’ve also seen trusted people kill their own flesh. Never ask a man what bad he’s seen, those visions might carry you straight to hell by his hand maricon!”

  Lorenzo didn’t flinch. “I’ve been to hell and can tell you have visited regularly.”

  “Then we are hellish men, with Diablo as our padre. When you think of something useful that may aid your cause, send a fire signal from your dark pit.” Alfonzo remarked. Alfonzo’s eye traveled to Lorenzo’s finger. The ring he wore was identical to Vin’s. Vin never removed that ring and died with it on. “Where did you get your ring?”

  “My Pappoús.”

  “Your grandfather, huh?”

  “Yes, you understand Greek?”

  “No, I understand how to listen.” Then Alfonzo addressed Yosef. “Don’t do anything until I find out what this is about. At least feed the fucking guy and give him a blanket it’s cold here.”

  “Humph,” Yosef snorted. “Blanket, food and should I add a pillow for the prisoner, eh?”

  Alfonzo walked swiftly to the stairs. “Fucking A, you’re not killing him tonight. If I find out he’s playing me, I’ll slit his throat for mentioning Vin’s name!”

  What he didn’t reveal to Yosef was Vin smiled when he had mentioned the name Grigori. The guy strapped to a pole like an animal might well be related to Vin and if he was, he sure as hell better have a blanket, pillow and something to eat.

  Alfonzo jogged up the stairs. On the way to the car, he rang Nico and didn’t get an answer. He’d try again in the morning. Maybe, Nico knew something about Grigori and whether Lorenzo Cuvato was on the up and up or a goddamn con man, Alfonzo opined.  

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  Chapter 19

   

   

   

   

   

  Selange checked the children before preparing to retire for the night. She’d sat on the bed, glanced at the book and scoffed.

  She stretched atop the fluffy comforter and then wiggled her toes with nervous energy. Until Alfonzo arrived home safely, she’d be unable to sleep. The music emanating from below lured her to the den like the Sirens in Homer’s Odyssey.

  She padded to the entry, watched her husband dancing clad in his tux, a shoeless, and handsome drunk.  She spied the pint of Puerto Rican rum in his hand and figured he consumed the balance of the champagne. 

  He noticed her, slowed to a halt and gestured her over the way a happy man does when inebriated.  “Come dance with me babe –ven aqui mami…that’s right linda.”

  Selange went to him, taking the bottle and sharing in the libation. The melancholy song of wanting someone to dance with, love and hold resonated in her soul as she gulped.  Alfonzo took the bottle from her hand and peered inside with a smile.

  “All right, guess you were thirsty.”

  When he placed the bottle down she wrapped her arms around his waist and swayed leisurely against his thighs.  “I’m thirsty for your loving arms.”

  “Yeah?” He smirked, palming her hips, sliding them up and down.  “Simple things, hear that, a simple lyric but deep.”

  She tossed her head back as he kissed her neck, humming the words, making her warm, wanting to burn with her until nothing was left to consume.

  “Smoke with mebabe…laugh with me babe…I just want the simple things…” he sang.

  Selange gripped his arms, tightly clutching the firmness she’d always depended on but scared to let go. “I’ll always dance with you babe,” she said.

  His mouth closed on her neck. The pause in his steps did not stop the swivel of her hips or grip on her man. They wanted simple, a shared peace and not the constant war drums beating.

  Alfonzo picked her up, kissing her as he carried her to the sofa, gently kissing the inside of her elbow, vibrating his tongue as he warmed the hypersensitive area with hot breaths while caressing her stomach.

  His fingers descended as he massaged her slowly, slipping beneath the elastic tip of her panty to graze her mons and she squirmed beneath him, raking through his hair, pushing forward eagerly, but kept at bay on purpose. His objective –to make her wet. Judging by the feverish clutches to his shoulders, he had succeeded.

  “Always dance with me babe,” he whispered against her earlobe, while tugging out of his trousers, uncaring who might discover them in a common room making love. 

  He needed his woman –needed her loving arms to take him to heaven.

  The softness of her skin was exactly what he wanted in the night and morning.

  He sucked in her fragrance, wishing he could rewind life’s hourglass for more time with her, but he was happy in the moment.  The simple truth he’d learned was when love is true, there’s tranquility even during rainy seasons.

  Naked and eager, he slid her panty with deft fingers down her legs, descending and kissing her skin, licking honey as she spread her legs to allow him to dine.

  The music was on a loop, the crooner’s velvety tone as rich as the love he had for Selange. He held her thighs, feeling her quake and the vibration branched to his arms.

  The sensation of her kisses to his head and the feel of her hands lifting his face, while pushing to his body, wanting him as passionately as the day they first consummated was potent nourishment.

  Alfonzo pressed his knees to the sofa, grabbing her forward, impaling her on his rod and sliding along her feminine rails until she cooed kisses into his mouth.

   

  ‘I just want the simple things,

  Smoke with me babe,

  Lay with me babe,

  I just want some one true,

  Gimme all of you…’

   

  Alfonzo appreciated the music of living. Sometimes, the songs were simple melodies to remind him to slow down, relax, and find joy in the good moments.

  She moaned and the liquid warmth flowed over him, and fueled his greed. The hot pants to his throat were cleansing to a once cold man.

  “Love me to the end,” she whimpered in the heat of copulation.

  Of course, the pledge was as strong as the seal on her lips that answered. Every push, partial retraction, wet caresses and grunts with air molecules weighted with liquor were that of a street dude without his suit, laying his soul bare.

  There isn’t a never-ending symphony; those romantic clichés are unrealistic.

  The end comes, not always on soft lips with the taste of rum or a succulent breast on which to feast. Sometimes, it’s simple, an expulsion of an orgasmic breath and the shutting of the eyes to rest.

  Like simple love; simple death is good music.

   

   

   

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  Chapter 20

   

   

   

   

   

  “Unk, can you do whatever you do and check Lucia’s location?”  Sergio asked once Nico allowed the young man onto his property but not inside his home.

  Nico surveyed the night, the leaves rustled and he stood in the doorway, enjoying the coolness as he leaned against the frame.

  He had grown fond of Sergio over the years. The, slickster with the fresh mouth, pain in the ass snitch and troublesome punk might actually be his son.

  It’s difficult spinning around, to peer back there at what might’ve been but wasn’t. He intentionally blocked the entry, a form of denial that he fathered a child unknowingly and letting him in might make it real somehow.

  He gazed past Sergio’s head to the first day they met in the restaurant of Dellegio’s and feeling that strange feeling creeping along his skin.

  “Unk! Goddamn, I drove way out here to ask a favor and you’re staring into space. It’s getting late and Lucia hasn’t come home. I need your help.”

  “Yeah? If I recall young buck I told you not to keep popping in on me.”

  Sergio attempted to squeeze past Nico and got wedged half-in, half-out of the door. “Seriously? No really? You’re blocking Unk?”

  “Sergio, I’m busy. Lucia will appear, shopping bags and tipsy from dining out with other primadonnas.”

  “No Unk for real, I need you to do a check.”

  Nico searched Sergio’s face for one small iota of his gene.

  Nothing –all street punk.

  “Go pester Lucia’s relatives.”

  Sergio stepped back on the turf. “I did.”

  “And what did they say?”

  Sergio peered at the ground –no his sneakers. “Same thing you said.”

  “All righty young buck, there you go.”

  Then Nico realized to get rid of Sergio required giving him what he came for. He stepped outside, closed the door and walked barefoot over grass and twigs to his shack.

  Sergio followed, staring at the shirtless man’s back wondering why he didn’t want him inside and why the hell was he wearing only gym pants when it was getting cold?

  “Aren’t you cold?”  Sergio asked.

  Nothing comes out of Nico when he’s mad.

  “What did I do now?” Sergio exclaimed.

  Nico glanced at his watch without revealing to Sergio the timepiece had many functions including providing keyless access.  He pushed open the door, went to a corner of the multifunctional space and yanked out a tiny gadget from some secret place.

  As he typed in a code, he spoke. “I’m curious Sergio, did your mom ever reminisce about your dad?”

  “Oh, I get it. You’re in a funky mood because you’re missing your brother.”

  Nico scoffed. “Sergio, answer the question.”

  “Why? You never answer mine.”

  Nico turned around, and stared Sergio in the eye. “Humor me, did she?”

  Sergio shrugged. “Yeah, she did. She said he was cool. Mostly, fabricated stuff, why?”

  “Did she ever mention anything about his birthmark?”

  Sergio laughed. “Oh shit funny that you say that. She said my dad had an ink spot under his arm and that’s probably why I had a huge one on my ass but it got smaller as I got bigger, you know what I’m saying?”

  “Good to know.”  Nico responded with a snarly face, trying not to picture Sergio’s ass.

  “Anyway, did you locate her?”

  Nico nodded.  “I guess she decided to go to Catanzaro.”

  Sergio exhaled.  “That’s weird Unk, I mean don’t you think so?  She hasn’t called her mom or me to say anything and I can’t reach her driver or nothing.  No, something’s not right.”

  “Okay, listen young buck, I’ll send some guys over to Catanzaro and another pair to retrace her steps at the mall. Go home and if she isn’t home by morning then I’ll drop the kids at Sophie’s and help you look.”

  “All right thanks.” Sergio turned to leave and then twisted around again. “Why were you interested in my mom?”

  Nico rubbed his temple. “Like you said Serge, I’m missing my brother.”

  When Sergio strolled out the door, Nico followed, securing the door again.

  Sergio glanced back at his Unk. Under the glow of the moonlight Nico stretched his arms over his head. There were grooves in his skin, and hard muscle belonging to a complex man.  Sergio entered his car, looked up once more and noticed Nico had gone inside.

  Sergio lingered there for a bit, mulling over their conversation repeatedly and then reclined.

  Nico had a birthmark.

  Yes, he’d noticed one but never thought anything about it until now.  Sergio exited the car, slamming the door, walking swiftly to the house.

  Nico appeared at the door before Sergio knocked.  “Forgot something or you have something to say?”

  “What are you psychic?”  Sergio asked.

  “No, I heard the car door and figured you were coming back.”

  Sergio lifted Nico’s arm. He looked at the man differently.  “Vin isn’t my pop is he?”

  “Vin doesn’t have a birthmark young buck.”

  “How long have you known you’re my dad?  How fucking long?”

  “A few minutes ago.”

  “How?”

  “Vin wrote me a letter.  My fratello liked to pull pranks Serge.  Your mom thought I was Vin and that’s about all there is to it.”  Nico replied pragmatically.

  “You and Vin fucked my mom?  You played with her like that –huh you sick bastard!”

  Nico tried not to choke the stronzo.  “No Serge,” he said calmly.

  “So you can’t remember, is that it?”  Sergio growled.

  The anguish on Sergio’s face actually elicited an apology.  “Mi dispiace, Sergio.  I don’t remember anything about that night.  I was on a bad trip.”

  “So you don’t even remember what she looked like or nothing about my mom.  You can’t even say you liked her.  She was nothing more than a fucking hole and you’ll probably feel nothing for me!”

  Nico let Sergio vent and then he took a deep breath.  “Look Sergio whatever happened in the past I had no control of but we’re here now and I do feel for you young buck.  You’re a man now and you should focus on making sure everything’s straight with your wife first, and then we’ll talk more about your mom and me if you want, capisce?”

  “Fuck you I don’t need you!”  Sergio shouted, his voice quivering with hurt. Then Sergio turned his back and marched to his car. 

  “Well if you need me, pop in!”

  Sergio yanked open the car door.  “I said I don’t need you! Can’t you hear?”

  “All the little insects heard you son.”

  “I’m not your son.”

  “Yeah, that stamp on your ass might prove otherwise.”

  “Vaffanculo!”  Sergio shouted with his head sticking out the driver’s window. 

  Sergio’s head into the car like a turtle returning to its shell and then he made a U turn to speed away.

  If Sergio were absolutely –positively his biological son, Nico believed the guy would cause him to have a coronary. Sergio would likely prove the most difficult of his children.

  Nico hurried to his studio, entered and went to the sink, lifted the false lid where sponges and dried paints had sat. A phone wrapped in cellophane is what he removed and punched in a code.  After checking the signal he dialed and got a voice on the opposite end.

  “It’s me, what’s going on in your Organized Crime Bureau that I’m feeling uneasy about?”

  “The Cuvatos and Tsiakrokis famiglia were exe
cuted, nothings in the media.”

  Nico slumped against the sink.  He held his head down, letting the news sink in. His knuckles protruded as his fingers clutched the device. 

  Vin, shit, Vin’s son Lorenzo that he mentioned in the letter is what caused his head to snap up.

  “Lorenzo Cuvato, is he among the dead?”

  “No, he’s disappeared.”

  “Where’s this movement originating from?” he asked the voice.

  “Not any of the families.  It’s an outside hit.”

  “Give me something, you sit your ass in an intelligence bureau, get wise or die you piece of shit!” Nico exclaimed to the man on the take who probably had more information but possibly feared losing his government job when he should be afraid of a mafia enforcer.

  “The autopsy on Grigori Tsiakrokis noted multiple gunshot wounds and listed penetrating trauma as the cause of death.  On the forensic report, there is a notation of an amputation.”

  “Cosa?”

  “Yeah, a finger was cut off.”

  Nico’s brows furrowed.  “Anything else I need to know?”

  “That’s all we have in the bureau so far.”

  “Grazie, now breathe easy shithead, playing both sides isn’t so hard.” Nico stated and then ran the phone under the taps before taking a hammer to the casing and shoving the broken pieces in the fireplace among the fresh wood.

  His eyes stared into the past again.

  A finger? He pondered the significance. Then as fast as a bullet, Nico remembered. He did a hit on an Armenian smuggler who double-crossed Vasos Tsiakrokis. He’d volunteered because the bastard’s people shot up Vin. He’d cut off the smuggler’s finger as a souvenir for Vasos Tsiakrokis.

  Nico turned. “Shit!” He hurried to the house, pushed open the door and felt an irritating sting, and he swiveled his head, to see images coming. He fought the strangeness, hard as he could, because asleep upstairs in his room under a bundle of covers lay his greatest of loves.

  Semira.

  Fear…the kind that quickens the pulse and makes the mind race to places it shouldn’t go gripped on to Nico. He was a father and his greatest fear was not being able to protect his daughter.