Associates

by S. W. Frank

  Everyone resumed talking very quietly and stole anxious glances toward Alfonzo’s table. He didn’t give a damn, shake their house, rattle it is how he felt, just as his had been as a kid. Worry is what he did every time his mom worked late and returned home with sore feet after standing all day. The money she made sometimes required hard decisions on its use, pay the utility bills, rent or buy food. His father was mainly to blame for what she endured.

  Fuck these people, his mind shouted and fuck any prick who’d suggest he’d ever prostitute his wife as a means to an end!

  Alfonzo’s sneer revealed the gleam of canines and pink gums. He slowly refolded the monogrammed napkin to gain control before he cracked Seth over the head with a bowl and placed it on the edge of his saucer. The breakfast concluded. He’d made an appearance as promised and ass-kissing wasn’t included in his business strategy. His purpose for coming was to let the Head Jackass of the Zoo know, ‘fix my problem and make sure there are no more rumors circulating on the floor about any of my CEO’s or I’ll ice you motherfucker!’

  He thanked Mr. Meyer for the breakfast, although he’d consumed only coffee and a Quinoa salad for energy while the swine ate heartily. He was eager to exit to take care of other pressing business. This was merely a formality. A handshake kept things running smoothly and were small extensions of a businessman to ensure his associates’ investments stayed prosperous. Sometimes, dealing with wolves required him to growl and reaffirm who led the motherfucking pack. Besides, Seth’s family owed his grandfather a debt. Their name was one of many on an old ledger and he would not let the smug idiot forget!

  This is how Alfonzo made mafia men rich and maintained peace in his house. When Alfonzo turned to exit, Mr. Meyer released a nervous breath.

  A lower ranking guard held open the restaurant door for his boss. Alfonzo brought along Juanito, mainly because he wanted Estefan with his family. He preferred the professional seasoned guy guarding them. Estefan was good, not on Nico’s caliber, but damn close to it. The Serano’s were in a class by themselves. Yeah, Vincent the Capo and friend could never be replaced. Everyone fell short…even Nico.

  The shiny sports car with custom black rims waited at the curb with a smiling Emilio at the wheel. Alfonzo settled in the backseat checking his messages. Nico had company coming along for their meet.

  Alfonzo pointed forward with a finger and Emilio drove. On the ride he made a call. “You made the transfer?”

  The man on the other line answered in the affirmative.

  “Three times his salary, right?”

  “Yes,” the voice replied.

  Alfonzo thanked him and checked his watch. “Emilio I need to make a stop at One Police Plaza.”

  “Alright.”

  The yellow cabs bogarted the city streets. Emilio handled the traffic like a native. The four lanes of Park Row were closed to vehicular traffic and Alfonzo told Emilio to let him out and circle back in a few. “Stay here,” he said to Juanito in Spanish before walking casually toward the rectangular building at 1PP. Pedestrians crisscrossed the sidewalk. The area was busy, close to City Hall and the Brooklyn Bridge, it remained active.

  The building’s rusty brick color had a brutalist design, spawned from the modernist architectural movement. A horizontal inverted pyramid type structure with thirteen floors which reminded him of a school somewhat, but then he grinned, nah, more like public fucking housing.

  The uninspiring concrete painted courtyard had some red pop art sculpture thingy that he found equally uninteresting. Some huge circular piece of metal with a base painted red as if it should be in a playground for kids to climb on and bang. He opened the glass door and stepped into the lobby where metal detectors were manned by uniformed officers with serious faces.

  “Can I help you?” an officer asked before he reached there.

  “Sure, I’m here to see Deputy Commissioner Johnson.”

  Alfonzo noticed an officer near an east wall peer over. His nervous expression caused Alfonzo to inwardly smile.

  Yep, go alert your peers! 

  He heard the whispers as the officer who asked his business informed him the Deputy Commissioner was not in.

  Alfonzo glanced leisurely at his watch. “Damn I guess Carl forgot about our meeting this morning. You sure he’s not here, I’ve called his cell…” Alfonzo removed the traceable cell from his pocket with Mr. Johnson’s unlisted number programmed in. “I’ll call him again.”

  He stood there as the cell rang and a deep voice answered, “Deputy Commissioner Johnson.”

  “Hi Carl, it’s Alfonzo. Looks like you forgot about our appointment.”

  “How did you get this number?”

  Alfonzo ignored the prick’s question. “No problem we can catch up some other time.” An unrehearsed laugh escaped as Mr. Johnson sputtered incoherently. Alfonzo continued to talk over the shocked man, “Yes, my wife appreciated the congratulatory card. Alright, we’ll have breakfast or lunch another day. Take care.”

  Alfonzo noticed there were more officers mingling about, some with fingers a tad too close to their firearms. He shrugged. “Looks like Carl forgot. Thanks officer,” he said before waving good-bye.

  He whistled as he walked the concrete courtyard, the presence of officers rushing to get a look at an alleged Mafia Kingpin felt at his back. His eyes took another look at the ugly red sculpture and come to think of it, the thing wasn’t as hideous as first thought. Maybe, the way light struck the corners to blur the harsh edges gave it a softer feel –whatever.

  Emilio and his guard were at the curb being honked by PD to move from the No Parking zone as Alfonzo approached. He took up space in the backseat and burst into laughter, wishing he could’ve seen Mr. Johnson’s motherfucking face. “Ah, man, too funny. Let’s go Emilio.”

  ‘Let’s see how you handle shit when it comes your way, Carl!’

   

  ~

   

  “Tony, I told you Chip wasn’t nothing but a piece of shit. I said it, didn’t I?” Tony’s woman repeated for the third time since last night. He stepped from the bathroom buttoning his shirt. “Yes, you did.”

  “And now look. I have a business to run, there are little children who come to the studio for dance lessons baby. Ugh!” she exclaimed and rose from the corner of the bed shaking her head.

  Tony tucked in his shirt and crossed the parquet floor to put his arm around her waist. When he kissed her neck she relaxed. He made her a promise. “I’ll fix this. Trust me.”

  She spun around in his arms. The smoky brown eyes he loved so much, trusting and warm. “Baby, I trust you. It’s the people you deal with that I don’t trust. That guy whatever his name is…”

  “Nico or are you talking about Sergio the snot-nose kid?”

  “I guess it’s Nico if that’s his name. He looks like bad news. Baby, he gives me the chills.”

  Tony rubbed her arms and smiled reassuringly. Sometimes she misread people. Because someone looked hard didn’t mean they were. Tony trusted Nico more than he ever trusted Chip. He’d taken a job with the spineless piece of crap because it was nearly impossible to find work when you’re a black man with a class C felony. Nobody cared if he acted in self-defense, all they saw is the conviction for second-degree manslaughter and the employment door was slammed in his face. The only places hiring an ex-con were minimum wage establishments or those non-profit groups run by good-intentioned people with records themselves. Problem is he couldn’t afford a damn thing on the well-intentioned pittance of a salary. The crime he committed to defend himself against a two-bit robber who happened to be white landed him five years in jail. Why? A black male with mixed-martial arts training was considered more lethal than a white thug seeking to rob somebody with a knife. All the education in the world didn’t matter. He’d had a good job as a draftsman for an engineering firm, and a new wife.  Upon his conviction, he lost everything. Two years in, his devoted wife skipped out and well the rest is history. 
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  The bouncer gig with Chip paid well and indirectly if it weren’t for the position he wouldn’t have met Tiffany. She was a senior in college, studying modern dance and answered an advertisement for a dancer. Tony took one look at the young woman and knew she had no idea the ad was for a stripper. She never made it inside the club to audition, instead he sent her away saying the job was filled and gave her a card with his number. “Give me a call if you don’t find anything and I’ll hook you up,” he told the girl.

  A month later, she contacted him. She secured a job at a dance studio, loved it and wanted to personally thank him with dinner as she put it, ‘forbeing nice.’

  The dinner led to other dinners and Tiffany as the dessert. He still recalled the colorful candy sprinkles clinging to her breasts and covering her ass which he licked and ate like a kid tasting sugar for the first time.

  Four years later, here they stood. An ex-con and woman who may have turned out like Nina but one nice act by a stranger changed the course. Yes, he loved his Tiffany, loved her more than any man should except he refused to get married again. He just didn’t believe in it anymore. Words spoken in front of guests and a priest don’t bind people, commitment does. She was the dancer leaving footprints on his heart. He’d make it right, put her life back on track and not let her enter the seedy confines of his world just like before.

  He kissed her mouth and lingered there in a tight seal before pulling away just as a knock sounded at the door. “Let’s go lovebirds!” He heard Nico say and he took up Tiffany’s bag from the bed and together they strolled into the hall.

  Nico as usual, drove in silence, stopped at a deli to buy them coffee. He had tea and ordered sausage rolls to go along with it for everyone and climbed inside dispersing the bags. The girl Tiffany didn’t eat pork he found out as she sniffed the food, turning it over, thanked him for nothing and passed it to her man. She drank the coffee though and he constantly noticed she snuck peeks at him and he found it funny, because it’s apparent she didn’t trust many people and he didn’t blame her. A person must earn that respect.

  The car ride with Sergio was always full of chatter. Music didn’t silence the guy either and Nico couldn’t wait to be done with his company. The damn youth was worse than Darren and Aaron put together –and they were a handful!

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

   

   

   

  Shanda entered Sophie’s home holding the handle to Carlo’s infant seat and rolling her shoulder to prevent the diaper bag and her purse from dropping. Voices raised in confrontation from Nico’s rowdy boys assaulted her ears and she rolled her eyes. Those kids needed an ass-whipping!

  Her high heels clicked on the polished floor as she walked in the direction of the sitting room. Lo and behold, a pregnant Ari was stretched out, comfortably reading from her device, oblivious to her sons raucous.

  Shanda put the bag near a high back seat, placed a sleeping Carlo down on the floor and then sat. Ari hadn’t looked up, although Shanda suspected she was aware of her presence. Shanda didn’t like the haughty bitch, something about the attorney rubbed her the wrong way. “Where’s Sophie?” Shanda asked breaking into her read.

  Ari took her time to respond. She looked at Shanda, decked out in a designer outfit. Everything about the Brooklyn chick was right in your face. She wasn’t shy about showing her cleavage and in the tight fitting dress she gave the viewer an eye full. “Hello Shanda.”

  “Hi Ari.”

  The wild teens came shooting past and Shanda jerked the baby back before they tripped and fell atop her son. “Don’t you see there’s a baby here?”

  The boys returned and apologized, “Sorry Shanda.”

  Ari went back to whatever she was doing without answering as Aaron dropped to his knees to look at the child. “He’s getting big. He’s going to look just like Uncle Geo.”

  Darren agreed. “Yep, big head and all.”

  Their mom said something in Italian and they were looking at Shanda smiling. Shanda wondered what the fuck she said and decided she better learn the language because they might be laughing at her and she wouldn’t even know it. “What’s so funny?”

  “No, my mom said the baby is cuter than Uncle Geo.”

  “Oh.” Shanda relaxed, but not for long because the twins who had the youthful physique of miniature Nico’s were up and at it again, wrestling near the sofa, putting each other in headlocks and shit while their mom ignored them. Shanda’s eyes bulged wide in disbelief at Ari, was the woman crazy? She stood up and was about to take the child upstairs for some peace and quiet when the front door opened and thank goodness Giuseppe entered.

  “Bella, you look nice.” He was in front of her taking his son from her hands. “He sleeps, no?”

  “He won’t for long in this racket.”

  Those damn boys came running out to greet their Uncle. Punching at his arms as he held her son and she relieved Giuseppe of the boy before the miscreants caused an accident.

  I’ll beat their ass myself, Shanda fumed silently.

  “Buongiorno Ari,” Giuseppe exclaimed as he caught the boys around the neck and dragged them toward their mother. They tried to break his hold and pummeled him from both sides but Giuseppe’s muscles were locked and he didn’t let go. 

  “Buongiorno Giuseppe, come stai?”

  “Buona. Quando si ha questo bambino?”

  “Spero presto.”

  The bitch was showing off.  She was nice to Giuseppe, all smiles and shit and this pissed Shanda off more. Giuseppe released the boys and everyone was laughing as if roughhousing around a baby was super –fun!

  Shanda returned to the room and angrily occupied the cloth seat she only minutes ago vacated. “Giuseppe, I’m not going. Forget it, apparently your mom’s not here.”

  “Leave the baby Shanda, we’ll watch him,” Ari volunteered with her fake ass.

  “That’s okay. I don’t want anything to happen to my baby. Your boys play too rough.”

  Giuseppe found this funny. “Donna, Carlo will be fine with Ari. She has been a mother far longer than you.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything.”

  There they go, talking Italian and laughing again!

  Sophie arrived at the right time because Shanda was about to leave.

  It took a few minutes of coaxing from Giuseppe for her to relinquish her son in Sophie’s care with the wild twins in the house, but Sophie assured a worried mother she would take the child upstairs where it is quiet.

  “Okay, then.” Shanda breathed.

  As they were heading out the door, Ari politely said, “Have a good time you two.”

  Oh shut the hell up bitch!

   

  ~

  The moon looked different Shanda noticed as she gazed up from the confines of the luxury chauffeured car, listening but not understanding a word spoken as Giuseppe conducted more business on their supposedly romantic night out. Giuseppe could turn on the charm when he wanted; flirt easily with women without care of her feelings. The pang of jealousy inched across her breast, or was it the baby milk? Shanda pouted because Giuseppe’s actions were confusing. He could make Ari smile with a simple buongiorno, and show such love to his son and then turn into a rock. She wondered how many women waited for his touch and what could she possibly give the arrogant and spoiled man.

  As the car traveled along ancient streets from fairytale books, cobble and stone, she hadn’t noticed he’d put away his phone.

  He watched her sad expression uncertain what he’d done to cause the woman’s melancholy mood. He put a hand on her exposed knee and she sighed.


  “What is wrong?” he asked.

  She shrugged, not willing to explain a woman’s jealousy and insecurity concerning a man.

  The beams from the car which followed shone into the back window. Giuseppe’s fingers squeezed Shanda’s knee. “You do not like Ariana, why donna?”

  “She’s a bitch.”

  Giuseppe laughed. “You must get to know the women in our family. They make good companions.”

  “I have a dog for that Geo. Ari always has her nose in the air and your mom caters to her like she’s a queen.”

  “You are jealous.”

  “No I’m not.”

  “My mama enjoys having someone to dote on. It can be lonely for a widow in such a big home.”

  Shanda hadn’t considered this. “I guess.”

  “Ari is cranky because she is with child. Do you not feel empathy?”

  “Not really, she got knocked up, she’s not ill.”

  “Ah, Shanda, you do not need to take sides. I know you have a loyalty to your friend but that is not a reason to make an enemy of Ari when even Selange has called a truce.”

  Shanda settled in her seat. Giuseppe struck a nerve. Perhaps he was right.

  Soon they were in the historical center of Palermo, on the Via Alloro the Foro Italico, which is the waterfront of the old town and going up to the Via Roma. The first street on the left near the Cross Vespers is where the restaurant was located. It was a cozy-but-elegant space on an unheralded piazza in the historic city center. The local seafood drew many there, as well as the superb antipasto cinque variazioni di crudo dal mare, which were five variations of raw delicacies from the sea. This wasn’t the ramshackle City Island eateries in the Bronx a guy took his date to, spent a few dollars and called himself a big spender. This restaurant was classy, clean and there weren’t any kids running behind their sloppily dressed parents picking their noses.