by S. W. Frank
“Sir?”
He pointed to the colorful vegetables and scallops. Selange ate like an herbivore, but he was the carnivorous sort and the second plate got loaded with meats and vegetables. The food was carried by a waiter to the table; he didn’t have to touch a thing. Napkins weren’t paper, they were cloth and monogrammed. Massud had gone all out for tonight. There were inducements to get the fellas to return without their women and cut loose at a later date. Yeah, that’s how things worked. Wife tonight, side-chicks or the widely used term mistress tomorrow.
They were eating and people watching when Selange said, “That one’s an escort.”
Funny she noticed, because it was true. He found it interesting and asked, “Why do you think that?”
Then a man got schooled. “He’s got money, check his clothes, expensive, she on the other-hand, far less quality. Those aren’t Louboutin’s they’re knock-offs and so is the purse.”
“Doesn’t mean anything,” he replied. He played devil’s advocate to gauge the full measure not only of her intellect but common sense. “Men often buy one or two very good suits and wear them on special occasions. They could be rich, but maybe he’s cheap or she doesn’t like spending money on clothes but other things.”
A baby carrot was devoured. Her lips never contacted with the fork prongs. She chewed and then said, “Hmmm…that could be true, but he has on a wedding ring, platinum and she doesn’t.”
“She could’ve lost hers.”
Her dimple became more prominent. “He’s likely from the Midwest or south, listen to his southern drawl. He’s also way older than her. Her accent is unmistakably New York.”
“Nothing significant, you can’t build a case on that.”
Then the bomb fell. “They were seated at the table behind us when you went to get the food and he got a call from his wife. There’s an emergency at home and he has to leave. He hung up and told his date they had to cut the evening short but next time he’s in town he’ll give her a call.”
Alfonzo drank water. “Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?”
“What fun is there in that?”
He chuckled. “I guess none.” The reason he knew the woman was an escort was because he had seen her on arms of associates before. No mystery.
Then Selange became somber. “A girl who applied for our scholarship died last week.”
“Sorry to hear that,” he said. “What happened?”
“She was leaving a graduation party in Queens with her friends and near the bus stop shots rang out. Nobody’s sure if there was a beef at the party or if it was gang related but the outcome is somebody snuffed out a dream. The poor girl was shot in the head.”
Alfonzo breathed. “Damn.”
“It’s crazy you know?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Right here in America so many young people live in a war zone. Good kids are dying. It’s almost as if nobody sees their worth.”
Alfonzo frowned. He knew the sentiment all too well. He lived in the war zone and Selange had too. They were still battling except there’s was a different type of foe. “We see their value and babe that’s why I’m so damn proud of you.” He took her hands in his. “You haven’t forgotten about those kids out there. You’re not doling out rhetoric; you’re helping them climb out of this shit with a rope. Whatever you require of me, money, whatever I got your back, comprende?”
A quivery smile occurred. “I know. That’s why I love you honey.”
Tiffany and Tony returned all smiles and joined their table. Selange cheered to inquire how the game went and Tiffany replied, “I won.”
“That’s cool. By the way I love the dress and the shoes. Dior, right?”
Tiffany gave a curt nod. The woman knew fashion. “Yes.”
“Very nice taste and that ring, wow.”
Tiffany examined her finger; it was pretty nice, wasn’t it? “Thanks and thank you for inviting us.”
“No problem. I understand you’re a dance teacher.”
“Yes.”
“Children are so precious.”
Tiffany nodded. One day she hoped to have a family with Tony. She smiled. “They are.” She’d thought Mrs. Diaz might be one of those stuck-up types, but quickly learned she was far from pretentious. It was cool talking to someone who understood fashion and the necessity of classic items, versus trends. How refreshing to talk without wondering if the other person got it. A woman’s uniqueness isn’t about following but highlighting their individuality.
Tony slipped away for food as they talked. Alfonzo discreetly excused himself to take a call from Nico putting distance from the women-talk. He walked out of earshot to stand in an unoccupied section and looked below at the stream of well-dressed people. “Yeah, Nico?”
“Are you aware Sergio’s in Palermo?”
“No, but then again I’m not his babysitter. As long as he’s on time Monday, what he does on the weekend isn’t my concern.”
“You’re going to change your tune when I tell you he’s fucking Lucia.”
“He’s what, coño?”
“Told you.”
“You’re his Uncle, talk to him.”
“Oh I will, but you have a greater influence on the boy-man. I tend to want to sock him.”
“All right, I’ll speak to him when he returns. I have to get back to my date,” Alfonzo said cutting Nico off. Sergio could wait, spending time with his wife couldn’t.
A long but enjoyable evening, smiling and making small talk during the opening only made him value the quiet moments alone with the people that mattered. The chatter mixed with the clinging noises of slot machines was simply background nuisances. Another successful construction project on the company résumé, another satisfied customer, another day is how he saw it. Except, Selange and the children were always the highlight.
The couples were at the lobby preparing to leave when the owner approached Alfonzo. Massud’s infectious smile was reminiscent of a boy who received the present he secretly desired on his birthday. “Thanks again for coming Mr. and Mrs. Diaz. I want to say it’s been a pleasure. Alfonzo, my business proposition remains open.”
Alfonzo refrained from talking shop in front of his wife, just habit. It wasn’t a trust issue, simply a preference to keep her protected. Oh, she knew too much already, the damn woman wasn’t an imbecile. She was far too smart for her own good, at times she could read him like an open book, but there’s a caution he practiced –non-disclosure. Alfonzo’s fingers held firm against softer fleshy digits as he spoke, “Thanks but no thanks. Lots of success to you –take care.”
Massud nodded. “The same to you. Have a wonderful night.”
He returned to the chaos of the gaming world and the excitement of money being stolen by machines and games of chance from high-rollers, addicts and regular people hoping for a big win which rarely happened. The odds were stacked against them, however, they were too invested or in a financial hole, looking for a way out. Yeah, he liked Massud but not enough to enter into business. He had go-to-guys in government he utilized for political favors and not lifting liquor revocations.
Tony and Tiffany said good-night and the couples parted. The door to the limo was held open for Alfonzo and Selange. Inside they sighed. “Aaaahhh, silence,” Selange said lying in his lap.
“Tell me about it,” he replied and loosened the bow-tie. “This thing was choking the shit out of me.”
Inconspicuous vehicles tailed the limo with armed men concealed behind tinted windows. He could relax a bit knowing they were adequately protected. He rubbed her neck. “Did you have a good time?”
“I always have a good time with you.”
His palm descended down her shoulder. “The kids gave you hell during my absence I heard.”
“Oh my freaking goodness, I forgot to tell you Allie is so rude and Angelina…sheesh, she’s no angel. Why are the boys so good and I’m getting hell from the girls?”
&nb
sp; He grinned. “I have no idea.”
She rolled around and her face was near his stomach as she looked up. “I’m taking Allie with me to Africa, okay?”
He shrugged. “You sure you don’t want me to put her in check?”
“I think once she sees how different other children live she’ll appreciate what she has.”
“I don’t know if one visit to an oven will do the trick but then again it’s worth a try.”
“Honey,” she said with tired eyes.
“Yeah babe?” he asked. The intimacy of simply being together made up for all the time they spent apart. But, soon she’d go away. Another week long separation was an agonizing thought.
“Thank you for such a beautiful life.”
His brows furrowed, that kicking started. Dammit!
“Babe, you have it wrong. Thank you for my children, for standing by my side and all the sacrifices you've made to do it.”
“You’re welcome,” she replied and then said, “and since you’re so grateful I’m sure you won’t have a problem if I leave a day earlier. I have to pick up Ari, and I really want to see Shanda before I go abroad.”
The ride was smooth. The scenic display was a postcard of Brooklyn at night. Lights from cars, a dark sky and high rise buildings towered toward the full moon. The endless railings with orange marking the distance in numbers were passed at a speed of seventy. A summer night in a car rolling across the Jackie Robinson Expressway is where he groaned in frustration. “Babe, ah damn…my poor dick can’t take all this punishment.”
She smiled at the exaggeration. “Tonight,” she kissed the bulge between his thighs covered by cloth, “I’ll love you long time…how about that?” she asked in a sing-song voice and he laughed,
He peered downward with a squint. “Love me long time, huh, well how long is long?”
“Until my pussy becomes so mushy and you fall asleep in a river.”
“All right, all right,” he cheered. “I am looking forward to the swim!”
***
There’s a different vibe from New York to Puerto Rico. In the NYC, it’s a high-intensity sort of atmosphere and moving leisurely is discouraged because the people don’t like slow. Impatient, hurry-up and blow through yellow because to motorists it’s their last chance to go before the red, a few seconds out of their lives can’t get wasted, to yield or pause to breathe isn’t the flow.
Puerto Rico wasn’t that way. Exchange fast-paced and there’s laid-back, a weed effect on the mind where nature’s the drug. A man can breathe the air, look at his family and find the pleasures aren’t always racing through life but walking unhurried to appreciate what he has. Alfonzo did that during the ride from the airport after a lovely time with his wife and even as they stepped through the doors of their quiet home at three in the morning. He appreciated the silence. His gratitude was endless as his eyes hugged Selange’s ass as she walked gracefully through the darkened spaces toward the patio doors, removing shoes, and then her gown which she dropped in trails on the floor. Follow he did, doing the same, a midnight formal jacket tossed to a sofa, a custom white shirt and his prized cuff-links placed on a dining table. His shoes were kicked to the wall as a hop and a pull of ribbed dress socks were freed from each foot. To the deck went his trousers, stepped on like carpet as the curved brown figure in silk and lace dived into the pool still wearing the diamonds he’d given her on her birthday.
Alfonzo’s shorts found a holder, the lounge seat had obliged. His physique beneath the quarter moon rippled with grooves of a fit athlete. Tattoos and scars blended on the magnificent male form. He dived into the water, a human amphibian submerged in chlorine liquid to remove the undergarments of his wife and let silk-lace float to the surface as he kissed the feminine crevice before rising to do the same to her mouth. Against the pool wall he pressed her body and she gave a lazy smile. A contentment indicative of a happy spouse were hazel twinkling stars. What words are needed or liquor when love is the buzz? Not one sip of a watery spirit had he consumed today when his soul was full. He didn’t need to drink or screw at random when his want was the intoxication of Selange.
Drink to fulfillment the sweet nectar of passion. In lips he tasted wine. Lifting thighs as soft and firm as pillows to place around his waist he plunged his sober dick in a cellar of sugary rum. Selange flexed to him, holding, squeezing tight as her wet hair clung to cheekbones slightly rouged. Her neck he sought out, sucking hard like a lemon to stimulate the palette after a strong alcoholic drink. When she moaned his name in a stammer he answered in swirls of pressure filling her to the brink. A pool became his flask in which to sip at will the sustenance he craved like an addict in the dark.
Her head dropped, a chin in the crook of his shoulder, wet lips on his earlobe, fingers gliding rakes through his short cropped hair. “I need you honey…so bad,” were her words whispered under the island sky.
What glory, what peace he found knowing she needed him as much as he needed her. Swim in wet pussy, satiate an endless thirst, wear down his woman until she became mush is the way a powerful man showed devotion to his wife who was his only true vice.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Standing in the foyer of Sophie’s home way past bed-time after arriving in Sicily is where Selange stood reasoning with her daughter who held the handle of a grown-up suitcase. No princesses or ponies. A seven year-old who believes she’s an adult is the attitude she adapted of late. “Mom, I don’t want to spend the night in this big scary house.”
“Oh, Aunt Sophie is lonely without family. Can’t you keep her company while mom goes to visit Auntie Shanda?”
The little face stretched in exaggeration lips and eyes were theatrics of a child. “Okay.”
With that settled, Selange secured the girl with Sophie who happened to also have Carlo in her care before she went to visit Shanda. The girl sounded miserable on the phone the other day. Shanda was a fighter and listening to how broken she was tore Selange to pieces.
Giuseppe that dog. Damn!
Shanda opened the door. The usually bright eyes were dulled by turmoil. She stepped aside, waving Selange in and sucking her teeth at Estefan who was out the car and on the woman’s tail as if she’d kill Selange or something. This was the mess she got tired of, bodyguards in your business even when talking to a friend. She ignored his ass, motherfucker didn’t speak English anyway!
“Estefan, can you give us some privacy. I’m sure Shanda won’t mind if you help yourself to something to eat,” Selange directed in Spanish.
Shanda noticed him going to the kitchen. “Where’s he going?”
“I told him to give us privacy.”
“Oh,” Shanda said and flopped on the sofa.
The pit-bull which was once a baby was huge. The dog didn’t bark, just walked menacingly to the side of the sofa Shanda occupied to keep watch on her guests.
“Aren’t you afraid of that dog near Carlo?”
Shanda laughed. “No, Gee’s sweet. It’s humans you need to watch out for.”
“If you say so,” Selange replied. “Where is you know who?”
“Out, likely whoring around.”
“Shanda you know these guys don’t have banker hours, right?”
“Selange, I get that shit but I’m finding condoms in his jacket pocket, he hasn’t denied cheating. The bastard makes no apology.”
“Do you know who he’s cheating with?”
“I think it’s that bitch Lucia. I went out today and bought some spray paint, I thought about tagging his ca
r.”
“Why do you think it’s Lucia?”
“I don’t know. It could really be anybody. The truth is I’m not sure if it’s her but he’s screwing somebody. Look it’s almost midnight and he hasn’t come home. I told him the wedding’s off and he’s like no it isn’t you can’t renege.” Shanda’s face was incredulous. “He thinks he’s all that. I don’t want to play games. Man, I hate to say it but Alfonzo was fucking right. I wish I listened.”
“Giuseppe’s spoiled Shanda. A man like that isn’t going to change overnight.”
Shanda shook her head. In her misery she needed to clear the air. “Girl I’m sorry about what I said that day. I didn’t mean to imply you were a bad mother, you’re not…you’re a good mom.”
“Never-mind that. I know you were going through stuff. I know girl.”
“But, I shouldn’t have left you. You were hurting too and I left,” she groaned and then put one leg up on the sofa before putting her forehead to her knee. “Ah, ugh and look at karma. I’m getting shit back two-fold.”
“Shanda cut it out. Stop beating yourself up. We fuck up. I have fucked up so bad girl that there are times I can’t believe that was actually me. But, I’m better for it because I know now what the fuck I want, who the fuck I want and what the fuck I won’t do again.”
There was a little chuckle. “Sorry, but hearing you curse is too funny. You said fuck about four or five times. Sheesh that’s a first.”
“That’s what I’m saying. Read between the lines. Everybody thinks they know me but they don’t. I didn’t even know myself and when I tumbled people were shocked because they thought I was a saint when I wasn’t. I’m human and we all mess up. You were there for me…good bad or indifferent you were there for me.”
“Yeah and spending your damn money.”
“Well technically it was Alfonzo’s card but who cares. Money can’t buy real friendship and real love doesn’t die from hurt egos. I learned that from Alfonzo and right now we’re proof that’s true. I love you and I’m not going to let you crash because I’m here buckling you the fuck up!”
