by S. W. Frank
“Que pasa Linda.” Alfonzo slapped Domingo on the back, “Don’t mind my cuz he has no manners.”
She laughed, “That’s alright, wassup cuz?”
She waved bye and continued walking. Domingo jumped down the stairs hoping to get some play. Alfonzo shook his head at the predictable outcome. When Domingo’s unsmiling face reappeared Alfonzo laughed, “What happened?”
“She ain’t all that.”
Alfonzo failed to tell Domingo Linda was a lesbian; instead he changed the subject, “Primo, I’m giving you the business. I’m getting out of this shit.”
“You serious?”
Alfonzo’s eyes stayed on the detective’s car, “I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, before all of this happened. I’m out.”
“If that’s what you really want to do then you know I got your back.”
“Yo sé.”
“You gonna do real estate full-time?”
“I need a vacation first. I might visit some remote island in the middle of nowhere. No cell phones, computers, nothing.”
Domingo laughed, “You bugging. They got computers and phones everywhere man but I feel you.”
The front door opened and Selange peered out, “Hi Domingo.”
Domingo flashed a genuine smile; he liked Selange. “How you doing chica?”
She looked stressed, “Asi-asi.”
“You learning Spanish, I better watch what I say now,” he said good-naturedly.
She tried to smile but the eyes told the truth. She was worried about her friend.
Alfonzo spoke to her, “Is everything okay?”
“I’m sorry to interrupt but I need to talk to you.”
He nodded, “I’ll be in a minute.”
The door closed and Alfonzo gave Domingo a censured look before he had a chance to verbalize his thoughts, “Don’t say a word!”
Domingo threw his hands up in mortification, “Yo, I wasn’t gonna’ say nothing about you playing house!”
Alfonzo smirked, “Anyway, I’m done,” their eyes locked, “Domingo keep a cool head.”
“You know it.”
His cousin was his best friend but their paths were going in separate directions. Domingo loved the street game and Alfonzo only played it for survival. He’d made enough money and the excitement was gone. He needed a different adrenalin rush and he found it with Selange. “I heard about Carlos.”
“Sad ‘aint it?” Domingo opined.
“Crying shame.” Alfonzo said without emotion.
“You cool with it, primo?”
“I’m cool.” His arm throbbed. It happened every so often. Until it fully healed the occasional discomfort was expected. “Call me after you deal with Antonia. Sweeten the pot. Give her twenty-K if she gets the fuck out tomorrow. I don’t want to see her ass again. Ella loca!”
“You got it.”
“Bueno, hasta luego.” They exchanged the familial handshake of brotherhood along with quick shoulder contact before Domingo jogged down the stair.
* * *
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Shanda leaned against the cold wall and strained to make out her location. Her arms throbbed from the tight restraints and her mouth tasted like sand. Two days with barely food or water was torture. She missed the Waffle House and Jamaican beef patties. She missed her family and her warm bed. She was the story on the news of a girl missing. A story viewed from the safe confines of one’s home without experiencing the victim’s horror. No, a passive observer could never imagine the fierce palpitations of the heart or the helplessness and despair unless they suffered through such an ordeal. Poor Jay. He fought and screamed to her to run and she did only to hear a gunshot then silence. She made it to the car and the rest was a blur until she opened her eyes to the filthy reality of her prison. Her abductor sat in the shadows watching her, never speaking then he left and the sound of a lock was heard followed by footsteps fading away. She dozed, awakened to quiet then dozed again. Hungry, weak, frightened she prayed someone came before…before what? She couldn’t imagine the end. Her abductor was crazy to have done such a thing and it was difficult formulating the intent or workings of one so perverse.
Shanda wept. Her father worked in law enforcement and when there were community self-defense courses he encouraged her to attend. She’d gone to a few but what good would it do in this situation. Her hands and feet were bound. She screamed her lungs out and only her echo answered. She cried at the sight of the stained bucket put there as replacement for a nice clean toilet, the filthy mattress undoubtedly infested with bedbugs or human excrement and the thick oppressive stench for lack of proper ventilation. Devoid of any tracking of time through light or darkness she huddled in a corner praying someone found and soon.
Suddenly, the door screeched open and a thin stream of light settled at her feet. Beyond the light she saw a wall, perhaps a corridor, leading to where she wondered? Her abductor entered wearing sunglasses and a scruffy beard which disguised his features. A McDonald’s bag dangled from one hand, a bottle of water clutched in the other. He closed the door then sat casually on the floor with crossed legs.
“Hungry?”
She didn’t answer.
“I hear your stomach growling.”
He’s crazy!
He opened the bag and pulled out a cheeseburger, “Can’t find much else around, here. Fast food restaurants…no fine cuisine, it’s no wonder we have an obesity epidemic in America.”
She remained silent.
“You’re really beautiful,” he took a bite of the cheeseburger, “guys hit on you a lot, right?”
Her heart pounded as she cowered in the shadows.
He leaned forward, “That guy you were with, he isn‘t your type, neither is that spic.”
What the hell is he talking about?
Shanda watched as he devoured the burger. Her stomach whined pitifully.
“You know I’ve been thinking about you a lot. Wondering what it’d be like to…”
The sentence was interrupted by ringing. He stood, “Be back in a minute Selange don’t go anywhere sweetheart.”
He walked to the door leaving the colorful bag on the floor. The door shut and his voice echoed in the stillness.
Sick bastard, he thinks I’m Selange! She gripped the edge of her bindings and wiggled her wrists frantically in an effort to slacken the hold. She refused to allow fear to paralyze her any longer. If she didn’t do something she’d die here at the hands of a sadistic lunatic. The cord cut her wrists. The stinging hurt but fear of death made the pain insignificant. She kept at it and only stopped when the sound of the door creaked open and the bearded man poked his head through the door, “I need to run out for a minute sweetheart. Help yourself to something to eat. When I get back we’ll spend quality time together, okay?”
Shanda whimpered. Oh God…please help me!
The loud click of the lock reverberated and she was alone once more. She rolled and twisted on the floor in frantic desperation to get free. She had to fight back….she had to!
***
Freddie looked up at the sky. Cumulous clouds did not filter the intensity of the sun’s rays. Summer was over and the slow kiss of Fall brushed his skin. He smiled with satisfaction. The Diaz punk was right where he wanted him, confused and uncertain, vulnerable and exposed. He planned to have fun with the girl first. Give her a taste of what a real man’s like. She’d beg him to stop, they all did, eventually.
The black Ford sat partially hidden behind a large green dumpster with the words, DICHENZO WASTE MANAGEMENT.
Evan Graham wanted a meeting, apparently his employer were coming into town and he wanted Freddie to do one last job for him. Make his employer disappear!
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Vincent Serano stood guard outside room 301 as visitors came and went. Luzo’s condition deteriorated rapidly. The end neared and Alberti was summoned to Luzo’s bedside for a private meeting.
Twenty minutes later Alberti emerged
from the room with a somber expression. He said nothing as he climbed into the waiting car driven by Nico Serano.
“Ready Mr. Alberti?”
“Yes.”
The car slid from the curb and mingled with the flow of traffic on seventy-second street to travel uptown. He promised Luzo he’d return shortly. The chauffeured car arrived at a row of brownstones and Alberti exited alone. He rang the doorbell and waited. The door opened and he looked into the eyes of a young Luzo. Handsome dark features, a muscular physique and identical intense blue eyes.
“You looking for someone?” The young man asked.
Alberti noticed the way the young man’s body remained a silhouette behind the door. The boy expected trouble; it was evident by his stance.
“I am looking for Alfonzo Diaz.”
“And you are?”
“Mr. Alberti. I have a message from his father.” Alberti added the last sentence hoping this might pique the young man’s interest. It did.
“My father’s dead.”
“That is not true; he is alive and very sick.” He removed a picture from his wallet and handed it to Alfonzo. The photograph showed his mother in an intimate embrace with a strange man in a gondola along the Venetian Canal. “May I come in?”
Alfonzo stepped aside and allowed the stern looking man entry. He had questions, lots of questions.
Alberti took a seat and looked around. The boy exhibited a mature taste in furnishings. The décor reflected his culture and eye for art.
Alfonzo offered him a drink and he declined. The young man was courteous, Luzo would be proud.
“Who is this man with my mother?”
“Luzo Palazzo, your father.”
“How do I know you’re not lying?”
“Most lies are complicated, the truth is simpler.”
Alfonzo held the photograph. He and the man shared similar bone structure. Alberti casually crossed his leg. The young man needed further convincing, so be it. “Your mother’s name is Maria Diaz. Your father and mother met here in America. She traveled to Italy before you were born and she and Luzo had…um…a romantic love affair which did not last. She returned to America and gave birth to you. She has devoted her life to you and faith. You, young man enjoy sports and are formidable in martial arts; you have your father’s blue eyes and mannerisms. You are his son.” He cocked his head to the side to stare intently at the young man, “You know what I say is true.”
Alfonzo’s eyebrow lifted skeptically. The subtle action caused Alberti to smile. “Your father does that also when he contemplates. You are a Palazzo.”
Palazzo…he’d heard the name mentioned before.
“Really?” Alfonzo said sarcastically.
“Your father has terminal cancer and lies in Sloan-Kettering hospital,” Alberti said with the patience of a priest, “waiting to make peace with you.”
“Why should I care about his conscience? He’s never been there for me?”
“He has always been there.” Alberti replied then uncrossed his leg to lean toward recalcitrant young man, “Your father has always watched over you since he first learned of your existence.”
Selange emerged from the kitchen, “Oh, you have company, hello,” she said pleasantly.
Alfonzo stood quickly without introduction and intercepted Selange.
She wore satin pajamas and a pair of pink fuzzy slippers. His heart squeezed at the raw innocence permeating the air. If she knew about his nefarious deeds would she still want him? He took her hand and whispered, “I’ll be there soon bonita, I’m discussing business.”
Alberti watched the lovers’ exchange. They were a handsome couple and he wondered if the youth was a cad. He turned his attention elsewhere as the young man cupped the girl’s face before kissing her tenderly on the mouth. The intimacy of his act brought a wry smile to Alberti’s mouth. The youth was also charismatic and charming like his father.
The girl departed and Alfonzo returned to the room but did not sit.
“What did you mean my father’s watched me, what are you talking about?”
Alberti glanced at his chrome Patek Phillipe watch, ten-thirteen, he must hurry. “Please we can finish this conversation in route to the hospital, por favore.”
“Why should I give a damn about a man I never met?”
Alberti stood. At sixty—ish he was in excellent physical health. Good wine and daily walks along the hills of Palermo were credited for this, not to mention a loving wife and beautiful daughters. “Because he is your father and it is the honorable thing to do,” he replied with confidence and gestured toward the door.
“Hold-up, I’m not taking your word about any of this.”
Alfonzo called his mom and when she answered he asked, “Mami, hay un hombre aqui que dice que papi no esta muerto, es esto verdad?”
“Hijo, we need to talk.”
“Es esto verdad? Is it true?” Alfonzo repeated.
“Si.”
He hung up and faced Alberti, “What does he want from me?”
“To finally meet his son.”
Alfonzo suddenly remembered. The FBI questioned him about Luzo Palazzo. They were interested in his affiliation to Luzo. They must have known he was the son of this man. –But exactly who the hell was this man who produced such interest?
Alberti wasted no time. “We must go, he is dying.”
“Why is the FBI interested in a dying man?”
“Those questions only he can answer, we must go.”
“I can’t.” Alfonzo replied and walked away, “See yourself out.”
Alberti followed, “Stubborn boy, your life is in danger and that of your lady friend.”
Alfonzo stopped cold in his tracks. What did this man know? “You sonovabitch, I’m tired of the games, either tell me what’s going on or you can go tell Luzo we’ll meet in hell!” He said angrily.
Alberti’s patience waned and he came face-to-face with the boy. “You speak like a thug. You think your street ways and disrespect are signs of machismo? They’re nothing insolent boy! Your father protected you all your life Crazy Blue Eyes; this is your street name isn’t it? Locos los ojos azules. Come with me or I will remove you by force!”
This man knew a lot about him and seemed prepared to carry out the threat. Influenced by curiosity devoid of fear he accompanied the senior man after informing Selange he was going out. He took a backseat and felt eyes on him. The driver, he looked familiar. He’d seen that face before.
“Hello Alfonzo.” The driver greeted.
Alfonzo nodded.
“Okay Nico let’s go,” Alberti instructed.
Alfonzo folded his arms across his chest. Today he’d finally learn the truth about his father.
***
Luzo watched the handsome young man approach. Many years of longing dissipated at the sight of his son in the flesh. My son –my blood. A solitary tear of joy descended over the cracked old face. A powerful, invisible foe infiltrated the impregnable Palazzo and rendered him impotent. By the Saints he wished he had more time with his son but this aspiration God did not favor. Past deeds sealed his fate, yet he refused to accept the penance until the scales of destiny were balanced. The strong, virile youth moving with ease was his legacy and his life was to be protected until he accepted his inheritance. With his son, the Palazzo gene would survive; thus the Giacanti’s would live on.
Alberti’s voice ended the reverie, “Luzo, I will leave you two alone.”
Luzo nodded his voice feeble to his own ears, “Thank you old friend and brother, graci.”
The door closed and Luzo motioned Alfonzo to a chair near the bed.
Luzo sighed, “I have loved from afar too long. I am a foolish man to allow your mother to walk out of my life with you.”
Alfonzo said nothing. The words removed all blame from his mother. The private hospital suite held an assortment of lavish bouquets and furnishings found in a fine hotel. Alfonzo surmised Luzo Palazzo was a very important man and powerful man.
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“I know of your troubles.”
“And what do you know?”
“I know of treachery which has claimed innocent lives and the one responsible will pay!”
“Who?”
“My wife Gina. She wishes to have what is not hers at the expense of hurting the innocent.”
Alfonzo’s eyes raged, “Your wife had my Uncle killed?”
“Yes.”
The man spoke calmly as if the lives taken were mere flies. “You sonovabitch. Where is she goddammit?”
“Calm yourself, there is a greater threat seeping beneath your door and it is not Gina. I must tell you things…you must know.” He continued.
Alfonzo could not take his eyes off the man. The blue eyes and strong jaw his inheritance. He did not interrupt, aware of the damned desires to confess to their sins, but he was unprepared for the revelations. Each abstract part of his life gained clarity. It took discipline not to leap from his chair and curse this man claiming to be this father. Years of uncertainty washed away. The ruthless Palazzo gene and keen business acumen were passed from father to son. The inability to love he would not claim!
Luzo coughed, speaking became difficult. He wanted Alfonzo to hear everything, to understand the past. “My father’s family lived and died this code. His father before him as well. Despite what you feel now, you will realize it is inherent.” His eyes searched the young man’s face for acceptance and found none.
Alfonzo finally spoke, “People have died because of you.”
“People have died because of greed. Our code is one of honor, unlike the street punks of your generation. We do not harm innocent people for personal gain. My wife Gina is an abomination and will be dealt with.”
“You chose her over my mother because she’s like you.”
“I allowed myself to be used and I used in return. Her treachery is about to end.”
“How will it change anything unless you can resurrect the dead?”
Weary, Luzo shut his eyes. The young man was correct. Vengeance only satisfied the ego of its wielder. As a boy he too failed to understand this and avoided his father’s teachings until….
