by Frank, S. W.
“I have watched the international news recently and in America several university students have overdosed on what the police describe as a lethal drug cocktail. It’s street name is Anarchy but the youth have different names, Sugar Candy, Blue Rain, and others.” He looked around at the men, holding them in suspense then finally said, “They have insinuated the Mafiosi is involved in its distribution.”
“There is more, isn’t there, il mio amico?” Alberti surmised.
“One of the men killed came from America.”
“This we know.” Giuseppe said impatiently.
“Eh, what you do not know is when the polizia searched this dead man they found a pill in his pocket, one with the name Anarchy.”
They were quiet.
His eyes took in their surprised expressions, “Yes, exactly. If what the polizia in America say is true then we may all have a major interest in what occurred yesterday. A threat to you is a threat to us all.”
Giuseppe cocked his head to his consulente, “Alberti, could this be true?”
“Sí.”
“A pill is not enough proof someone in the United States has turned against Don Dichenzo.” Peglesi reasoned. “It could be another rival, in Europe. We must consider all possibilities.”
“This is true, but this link to America cannot go ignored.”
“We will find out what we can here as well.”
Alberti suggested, “We send representatives to America.”
“Do we send our best soldiers or do we send diplomats?”
“The American polizia will be suspicious; we must not risk tipping our hand.” Benaducci stated.
Alberti suggested, “We wake a sleeper.”
“Who?”
“The Serano’s.”
“They have retired.”
“I will go.” Giuseppe volunteered.
Alberti stubbed out the cigar in the ashtray. “You must return to Palermo. In Europe you are protected.”
“I will go, besides who else will they trust. I will take only one with me, my chauffeur.”
They all agreed, none were to talk of this until they knew for certain who was behind the threat –then they would move to eliminate it, quietly!
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Stop walking so fast, I have on high heels,” Jessica complained, clutching Emilio’s arm tighter.
Emilio slowed his pace, “Lo siento, I’m trying to get out of this heat.”
“It’s not that hot.”
Emilio disagreed. He could feel the perspiration slipping down his barbered hairline. She insisted on having lunch at a swanky new restaurant in South Beach and he pulled a few strings to get them in. Mainly, name-dropping.
They finally reached the upscale establishment and once inside the lobby doors, he sighed at the cool air circulating from hidden vents.
“Welcome, names please?”
“Mister and Missus Diaz.”
Jessica smiled at this and he winked.
“Follow me please.”
The restaurant was fairly empty. Most of the patrons were in their mid-thirties, artsy types with deep pockets.
“It’s nice.” Jessica whispered as they followed the hostess.
Emilio wasn’t as impressed by the uninspiring décor. He’d been in swankier spots. The saving grace for this one, it’s cozy private tables and air-conditioning.
They were seated and the hostess announced a waiter will arrive shortly then sauntered off.
Jessica smiled, “Thanks for bringing me, it’s twenty-one and over.”
“You’re welcome. No booze, though.”
“Not even one Daiquiri?”
“Not one.”
“Ugh, you’re such a dictator.”
“I’m not helping you break the law.”
“Funny…hah…hah,” she teased.
The waitress arrived as they browsed the expensive menu. They ordered then he leaned over the table to compliment her, “You’re very pretty.”
“Thanks. Do you like the dress I’m wearing?”
He blushed. The dress hugged her curves in all the right places. She was very sexy in a classy way. “Of course, I like everything you wear.”
“Macho Emilio is actually blushing. Hot damn!”
“All right…enough.”
She brought her face close, “You have nice eyes.”
“You flirt too much.”
“And a nice body.”
He blushed again.
“You know what I want to do?” She asked.
“No, tell me.”
“Bungee jump.”
He laughed, “Another day.”
“You know what I don’t want?”
His eyes traveled down her plunging neckline, resting on her full breasts. God, she’s hot!
“No, but you’ll tell me I’m sure.”
“I don’t want to spend my life censuring who I am or let others tell me who I’m supposed to be. I’m young but it feels like I’ve lived two lifetimes. I already figured out what I want. You don’t have to be fifty to know those things.” Her eyes dropped sadly and he wondered what she was thinking but didn’t have to wait long for a full disclosure. “My Uncle Al probably thought he time to enjoy his life, but…he didn’t. It was snatched away. I’m not planning on making that mistake.” Her eyes were on him again, “Everyone should live in the moment. Tomorrow might not exist.”
He saw how deeply affected she was over her uncle’s death. It explained her carefree and passionate spirit. “Yeah.”
“What about you, what is it you’d like to do?”
The waitress appeared with their drinks. He ordered a house beer for himself and for Jessica a lame twist of lime in water. He took a minute to drink as he thought about the question, “Hmm, easy one. I’d open an auto shop, not one of those dinky spots but a real quality joint with professional service and top-notch mechanics.”
She smiled as he talked about it then he became quiet, took another gulp of beer and his eyes hardened. She’s getting me to open up, trying to make me believe in happy endings but I don’t…if I get caught up in fantasies, I’ll start believing in fairytales.
“Then do it.”
“Humph.”
“What’s going through your mind?”
Women, they wanted to know too much. If men disclosed their every thought, women might not like what they heard. “I’m wondering where our entrée is,” he answered, then swiveled his head in search of the waitress to avoid the intensity of Jessica’s probing eyes.
Sometime later, they strolled from the restaurant, walking leisurely, enjoying the warm Miami afternoon and just being together. The active streets were filled with young, excited college kids and a few elderly seated on the curbside benches beneath the shade of palm trees. During the peaceful walk he took her hand and squeezed gently. She smiled at this intimate gesture and for the first time, had no commentary.
A block from the hotel his cell rang, he did not release her hand to answer, “Yeah Lou, what’s up?”
“Gotta cut your vacation short kid, need you in New York, pronto.”
Emilio glanced at Jessica; he’d known eventually their bonding time wouldn’t last forever. He sort of hoped it hadn’t come as quickly, however he grew accustomed to abrupt endings. He’d experienced these short bursts of happiness and contentment proceeded by sudden separation. The long sad days and feelings of not being wanted cut through his heart like a knife. Being shuffled from one foster home to another taught him to never get emotionally attached to anyone. He stopped dreaming of a family who’d love him and threw away wishful thinking along with the memories of a painful childhood. He mastered the art of avoiding attachment and became accustomed to going solo, that is, until Jessica got under his skin.
“Okay, when?”
“Get the earliest flight, Alfonzo’s requested a driver.”
This surprised him. He’d spoken to Alfonzo over the last couple of days and he hadn’t hinted at any trouble –but then again,
Alfonzo never did. “Okay. What about Jessica?”
“He says let her enjoy the rest of the week, she’s a big girl.”
“Right.”
“Give me a call with an arrival time, I’ll have someone waiting with the car.”
Emilio understood. Alfonzo’s cars were specially outfitted with bullet proof glass and reinforced doors. Something must’ve happened, why else would he request a driver?
He shoved the cell in his pocket and met her curious eyes, “I have to get back to work.”
“When?”
“Today.”
She couldn’t hide the disappointment, “Spend time with me before you go.”
He lifted her hand, put it to his mouth. Her proposal was hard to refuse, yet he couldn’t accept. He kissed her fingers. “I can’t, I need to get to the airport.” He pulled her to his body and kissed her publicly. Slowly, he separated from her. He thought it best to put a halt to their sexual relationship before she expected a commitment of some kind. “I care about you. What we shared was great. It really was… but Jess…we can’t pretend it’ll go anywhere. You’re young…and you think you know what you want but you really don’t. One day when you’re older…you will and realize it wasn’t me.”
“What…are you kidding…you can turn-off your feelings just like that?”
“I do care…I…I’ll remain your friend. Any time you need me I’ll be a phone call away, I promise.” He stressed. It was killing him to tamponade their burgeoning relationship. Doing it was the only assurance he had she’d go about her carefree life and not get mixed up in his sordid one.
Her eyes narrowed, “I took a risk when I told you how I felt. Having you, even if it was briefly was worth it. I don’t care if I made a jack-ass out of myself, or you think I’m easy at least I had the courage to go after what I want. Too bad, you don’t! ”
She stormed into the hotel and he blew hard, ‘Damn, she’s really pissed!’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Six hours of questioning, writing statements then getting transferred from the custody of the State Police to local law enforcement made Alfonzo pissed. Martin did legal magic and the couple were finally released with a DAT for reckless driving, an A misdemeanor if convicted. He wasn’t sweating it, what got him angry was the assemblage outside.
The media hovered around the perimeters of the precinct like excited bees. When he got the phone call, he took his wife’s hand, “Our ride is here.”
Martin preceded the couple, blocking the camera crew as they made their way to their car. Once, Alfonzo and his wife were secured inside their car, he faced the reporters.
“Mister Scheppe, is it true your client was a victim of a foiled murder attempt by local gangmembers?”
“The illustrious NYPD and PAPD are investigating the incident.”
He started walking down the sidewalk and reporters followed, microphones in hand and determination in their eyes.
“Is there a link between the shootings of four men who were known members of Rebeldes Rojos?”
“That’s in the hand of the police.”
Martin neared his car.
“Is this mob connected?” Another reporter shouted.
Martin climbed in his car and rolled down the window, “My client is a hard-working businessman and comments like that can ruin his reputation, why don’t you guys let the police handle this and quit with the speculation!”
“Hey hija, how’s daddy’s baby girl?” Alfonzo whispered close to the small face sticking out from the covers.
She pushed her head in the pillow, “Sleepy.”
He smiled, then rubbed her back and she instantly slept. He returned to the living room where Emilio sat watching the late night news recap on the melee on the RFK -Triborough Bridge, which ended in the death of two gang members.
Alfonzo flopped in the leather recliner, “Anita has the guest room prepared if you want to get some shut-eye.”
Emilio nodded, rising to his feet, “Yeah, sounds good.”
Alfonzo’s eyes absorbed the younger man’s somber countenance. “Everything alright with you?”
Emilio’s mouth tugged at the corner, “Yeah, I’m good.”
“How’s my cousin?”
“She’s fine.”
“I think I better give her a call and make sure.”
Emilio’s face didn’t give a clue to the thoughts racing in his head as Alfonzo called Jessica. He remained nonchalant and continued out the room.
“Hi, prima, qué tal?”
“Hola, Alfonzo.”
“You good?”
“Yes, porqué?”
“Just checking, got drama here and want to make sure it doesn’t filter to mi familia.”
“You always have drama.”
“Humph, did Emilio take good care of you?”
He listened for a change in tone, a hint of what he suspected was behind Emilio’s forlorn expression. –But Jessica was a Diaz, through and through. “I don’t need a babysitter but yeah he did.”
“Okay, if you need anything, give me a call.”
He heard her girlfriends in the background telling her to hurry. “Okay, bye Alfonzo.”
“Bye.”
His eyes noticed a call coming through; it was Kiki. ‘How the hell did she get my number?’
“Alfonzo, Danté’s been shot.”
The question of how she got the number answered and now irrelevant in light of the news. He bolted upright, “Where is he?”
“I’m at Lincoln now.” She was crying, “They gave me his stuff. I found your number in his cell.”
“How is he doing?”
She tried to break the news softly, “Um…he didn’t make it. They pronounced him a few minutes ago.”
“I’ll be right there!”
He hurried upstairs, peeked in on his sleeping wife then knocked on the door of the guest room. The door opened, Emilio was in his shorts about to climb in bed. “I’m going out, something’s come up.”
“I’ll drive.”
“No, you stay here and keep an eye on my family.”
Emilio nodded, “Okay.”
Alfonzo rushed from the house, got inside the car and sped uptown. Lincoln Hospital loomed ahead as he traveled down one hundred and forty-ninth streets to Morris Avenue. He parked in an area reserved for emergencies and hurried inside the ER.
He spoke with the guard and was shown into a private waiting room. Kiki sat there, folded in half on one of the chairs crying. The lump in his throat forced him to swallow. He slid down in an adjoining seat, leaning his head back against the wall, hurt and angered he’d lost his former friend.
His voice was saturated with emotion, “I’m sorry.”
She sniffled, “It’s crazy, he went to the store then I heard these gunshots and when I looked out the window I saw him lying on the ground.”
Alfonzo exhaled in anger, “Damn.”
“By the time I made it downstairs he…he…he,” she stammered, “looked bad. They shot him up and they didn’t rob him or nothing…they just executed him and for what?”
She became upset and he wrapped his arms around her. Guilt crept up his spine. This was payback, thug style.
Her head popped up, “How do I tell his mom?”
“I don’t know…” he looked around the depressing sterile room, “come on I’ll take you home.”
She collected the plastic hospital bag filled with Danté’s belongings and walked beside him to the car clutching it to her chest like a precious baby.
He drove in silence, mentally exhausted by the day’s turn of events. Juan’s homeboys were not fucking around. He needed to get his family back to Puerto Rico, there he had a gun permit and armed security. The low-life imitation thugs weren’t going to follow. Their little turf consisted of uptown’s east side. Many of them were small time hustlers and petty thieves who without guns were a bunch of punk ass bitches!
The area near Kiki’s building was cordoned off by yellow police tape. An inv
estigative team canvassed the block, questioning residents. Alfonzo grimaced, the likelihood of anyone cooperating, despite Detective Winoski’s argument to the contrary was zero percent.
They entered the building and he escorted her to the apartment door, waited for her to unlock it then said good-night.
Kiki held open the door, “Please come in, I really don’t want to be by myself right now.”
His gut told him to leave –but guilt held him still. Danté was one of his best friends growing-up and if he hadn’t been seen with Alfonzo, he’d still be alive. An internal conflict raged, then he stepped across the threshold, inside the apartment; one similar to others he’d frequented before. He looked around uncomfortably and shoved his hands in his pocket, “Have you called Danté’s mom?”
She locked the door, sat the bag in a chair, kicked off her shoes then went to the sofa, pulling her knees to her chest. “God, I’m in shock. I don’t know if I can talk to them!”
“You have to do it. You don’t want the police breaking the news.”
She sighed, “Oh, geez…I know.”
He crossed the distance and sat beside her, taking out his cell, “What’s the number?”
She put her hand atop his, “No…no…I’ll do it.” Bravely she used her phone and broke the tragic news.
The wailing screams brought reminders of his wife’s cries the night she’d found her mother murdered. He slid back on the sofa, staring at the door, seeing himself walking through it.
When she got off the phone, Alfonzo leaned forward, and glanced at his watch, “I hate to leave you alone, is there a friend or somebody who can stay with you?”
She wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand, “I don’t know anybody that well, and most of my friends are in L.A.”
“It’s okay,” he said. In a friendly gesture his arms wrapped around her in consolation. “You’ll get through this…”
She turned her face to him and he stiffened as her lips pressed to his in a more than friendly kiss. She was tonguing him down.
Holy shit!
Boldly, Kiki’s hands caressed his crotch, “Please stay.” She whimpered as she kissed and groped his body, trying to spark a nonexistent flame.
