by S. W. Frank
“Sorry, sorry sir!” The driver apologized then a fast paced song blared in its place.
Alfonzo grumbled, was the driver for real?
AC/DC’s, ‘Highway to Hell’ echoed in the confines of the limo. The vibrating strings of an electric guitar; the pounding beats and raspy screams from the lead singer worked his nerves. He’d prefer opera at this point as the singer belted out rapid fire lyrics:
‘Living easy, living free,
Season ticket on a one-way ride,
Asking nothing, leave me be,
Taking everything in my stride,
Don't need reason, don't need rhyme,
Ain't nothing I would rather do,
Going down, party time,
My friends are gonna’ be there too,
I'm on the highway to hell
No stop signs, speed limit…
Hey Satan, paid my dues…
Hey Momma, look at me,
I'm on my way to the Promised Land,
I’m on the highway to hell…’
Aaron looked at Alfonzo and smirked at the display of irritability on the formerly expressionless face. He could identify with the tough looking guy, because he had a girl at home he missed, too. The prospect of something going wrong was unsettling. He was a kid and not a big man like the others. These were his dad’s relatives and they were some scary mother-fuckers. He couldn’t wait to tell Darren about this. His dad was a gangster, an enforcer, the men said and one of the baddest. He was right about his dad and frankly, it didn’t change how he felt. He still loved him, it’s just now he knew the real reason why his dad always disappeared. On the plane his dad explained everything, he told Aaron about their other grandfather, a man named Alberti Luca and the relatives in Italy who one day he’d meet. He said he tried to do right, even moved them all to Barbados thinking he could get out the life, then his real father, the Alberti guy showed up and he had to go back in. He told Aaron, he thought he could settle down with his family but a man with enemies doesn’t have the luxury. The entire time his dad talked, Darren could see the pain in his eyes and the remorse over disappointing him. He told his father, “Dad, I’m not mad at you. I love you. I just wish you and mom could’ve worked it out, ‘cause now I’m stuck with a potential step-dad who’s boring and corny as shit.”
“Hey, hey, the language.” His dad reprimanded like he usually does, although he uses profanity on a regular basis.
“I’m just saying.”
“Hey, I love your mother and I want you guys to act right when I’m not there. If she’s happy with this corny new boyfriend then you boys need to give the chump a chance.”
“Oh hell no, I have one dad. I don’t need two.”
“Aaron, you got a girlfriend, right?”
“Yeah.”
“So, imagine of you liked this girl a lot and her family didn’t like you and they treated you like poo, how would you feel?”
“Like shit.”
“I said poo.”
“Ah come on dad, shit sounds better.”
“I said poo, you say poo, too.”
“Ah,” Aaron groaned. “Poo, sounds sissy.”
“It’s nothing sissy in speaking properly and knowing when to use street talk and when not to.”
“Mom doesn’t let us curse.”
“Good.”
“Hey, but dad you’re more fun.” Aaron said.
“I’m still waiting for you to say poo, dammit!”
“Aiiight, poo. Shit, I said it, you happy?”
“What the fuck am I going to do with you kid?” His father laughed then gave him a nugget to the head.
Aaron smiled. He truly loved his father, he really did and this situation brought them closer and answered a lot of questions he had eversince he turned ten. The car hit a bump in the road and he sighed. He wondered if Darren was okay. He had to believe he was or else he’d feel bad for all the times they fought and he’d said some mean things.
He leaned back, headphones covering his ears. The sound was off, nothing was playing, he did that so people wouldn’t talk to him and he could hear what the adults were discussing. It worked, too. Grown-ups divulged a lot. His eyes watched Alfonzo, his dad’s cousin. The man was the youngest of the guys and it seemed everybody respected him. They called him Don Alfonzo. Yet, he didn’t look like a mafia Don. If anything he resembled a cool looking well-built business mogul or a celebrity, not the stereotypical mafia kingpin at all. There was an edge to the guy though, one when you were in his presence it sort of made you scared. He didn’t talk much, when he did; there was a thuggish undertone to the voice and a bit of a sneer. The glint in the eye when it settled on your face could give anybody goosebumps because he seemed to analyze and dissect you before deciding whether to kill you or not. Really, scary poo!
Yeah, his dad hung with some serious mobsters. He had an adventurous life and not a one dimensional existence. If it weren’t for the fact he loved his mom and had a girl in New York, he’d live with his father. Maybe, one day he might change his mind and do just that!
When Alfonzo spotted the boy staring, he chuckled. The curve at the corner of the kid’s mouth reminded him of Vincent. Alfonzo laughed aloud at a private joke he and Vincent once shared. It’s the time he was getting shot at by a disgruntled worker and Alfonzo was so darn tired that morning, he lay down on the ground to nap and allowed Vincent to light up the street like a cowboy. Alfonzo lie there dozing and muttering the lyrics to ‘Many Men.’
He smiled at the fond memory of Vincent’s incredulous face when the shoot-out ended and he hovered over Alfonzo looking down at him like he’d gone mad or something before asking, “Who the hell sleeps during a shoot-out…are you fucking crazy…and why are you lulling yourself to sleep with a Fifty Cent death song?”
Geez, the crap was funny. Now look at him. He was being serenaded by an AC/DC song about going to hell. The kid was grinning at him and Alfonzo cracked the fuck up. The damn song was a fitting prelude to where he was going. Shit, they were on the highway to hell, no sense in pretending they weren’t. He’d been driving down this highway eversince he was a teen!
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Selange was pissed. It took every ounce of her strength not to backslap Ariana right there at the table. She watched her children playing on the jungle gym and reclined in a lawn chair, still fuming. This wasn’t going to work. She told Alfonzo, but he didn’t listen. “Suck it up. Confront the shit, get it over with like a woman and move on. Just don’t fight in front of the kids, is all I’m saying!” He said in a practical manner then gave her a hug and kiss.
Dammit she was trying to ‘suck it up’, but how much abuse was she supposed to take? Like, really, this was her sanctuary and having it infiltrated by a scorned woman was by no means easy. Everybody can agree, Selange fucked-up, but for crying out loud because she did something wrong did that give everyone the right to keep beating her over the head with it or justify their verbal abuse? Hell no, and she wasn’t going to take it either. “Let those without sin cast the first stone, hypocritical bastards!” She growled in frustration, “Ugh!”
She felt like a felon who served a sentence for a crime, yet whenever she went for employment or in conversation her past crime surfaced. How would the same sanctimonious people feel if someone pointed out their damn mistakes every day?
At some point the Selange attacks had to end and if Ariana wanted to go toe to toe over it, then fine. She just wished the woman hadn’t gone there in front of the kids. Oh man, Sal was her little champion. He defended his mom like a soldier. Whether she was right or wrong, he loved her and that’s all that mattered to Selange, anyone else who didn’t could jump in a fucking lake and drown!
Her cell rang and she picked it up from the grass and looked at the caller’s identification, Shanda. Guess she made it home safely and wanted to chat about Giuseppe.
Selange barely breathed, “Hello,” before Shanda started ranting.
“I can kill that man of yours
girl, I swear. He’s on my shit list for the millennium!”
“Shanda what are you fussing about?” Selange asked keeping her eyes on the children as they climbed on the slide.
“That sonovabitch who I’ve defended, time and time again decides he’s going to play big brother and mess up my chances with Giuseppe. I finally snag a guy who can tear it up in the bedroom, fine as hell and loaded and what does that bastard Alfonzo do? He starts talking about ancient history and pointing out my dad’s a cop.”
“So, your dad is a cop, how does that make him a sonovabitch or a bastard?”
“Girl are you listening? Why would he do that when it’s none of his business?”
“Ah, because it is. Giuseppe’s his cousin and your dad’s a cop.”
“Are you and Alfonzo drinking some new shit I don’t know about because you’re both starting to sound motherfucking crazy?”
“Funny, someone’s crazy when they say the truth. Your dad’s a cop and Giuseppe is the crazy one. Personally, I think you should thank Alfonzo.”
“Your man is a goddamn asshole. It’s none of his business who I see!”
“You can see who the hell you want to see. If you want to see a crazy criminal then it’s on you. At least you were told. Like you told me once, Alfonzo’s a drug dealer and you’re telling me because a friend looks out. I took it in to consideration and made my choice. Stop the goddamn hypocrisy. You call here cursing about Alfonzo because he spoke the truth and then you try to take it out on me? Suck the shit up, and when you feel you can talk to me with some respect and not rip into Alfonzo for looking out for your ass then feel free to hit me back and we can discuss it like women!” Selange fumed.
“What the fuck, you’re blocking too!”
“I call it looking out for a friend’s best interest. I guess the dick was super or you wouldn’t be this mad, huh?”
“You know what Selange, you can kiss my ass!”
“That’s okay. I’ll pass on the ass.”
“I thought you had my back.” Shanda said miserably.
“I do. I just don’t think calling me up and cursing my man because he said your dad’s a cop is winning you any brownie points. If Giuseppe likes you he isn’t going to care if your dad was a federal judge, now would he?”
“You know what Selange, go to hell!” Shanda exclaimed then the line went dead.
Of course, Shanda wanted to be the one to hang up first. Selange shrugged, her friend’s tirade hadn’t upset her nearly as much as Ariana’s acerbic remarks. Besides, once Shanda calmed down, she’d call back. She always did.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Dellegio’s eatery was filled with patrons if the amount of cars in the parking lot was any indication. Once inside the side vestibule they could overhear multiple voices and the clang of dishes in the kitchen. Soft music also filtered to where they were corralled in the wide corridor under the watchful eye of Dellegio’s men. Dellegio appeared, his huge stomach pushing out from the crisp button down dress shirt and he greeted Alfonzo first, cupping his face with his pudgy hands and giving him a masculine kiss on the cheek. “You, it’s good to see.” He did the same to Giuseppe but gave him a nugget on the forehead and shook a finger at the recalcitrant man, “You’re gonna’ give your mother a heart attack if you don’t hurry up and get hitched.” Then he pointed to Nico, “This one doesn’t visit family anymore. Hey, Nico you don’t know family, eh cugino, why can’t you stop in every once in a while?”
“Been busy. How’s it going?”
Dellegio released Alfonzo and drew Nico into a hug, “Aye, it’s good to see you. We all miss your brother but we’re family, that’s all you need.” He spied the kid, “Who’s the baby face?”
“My son Aaron.”
The big man sized up the boy, “Hi ya’ Aaron, bet your old man never mentioned me. I’m this knucklehead’s cousin Ricardo. Everybody calls me Big Rick or Dellegio, it’s all the same.”
Aaron nodded. “Hi Big Rick.”
“Hey Glenda!” Dellegio yelled through the crack in the door. A short blonde appeared and he pointed at the lanky boy, “Set the kid up in the back dining room with something to eat while I talk to my relatives here.”
The blonde motioned to Aaron and he looked at his dad who nodded approval. Once the boy went inside, one of Dellegio’s shadows closed the door. Dellegio led the way down the stairs to the basement with his men taking up the rear. He unlocked a door and they were escorted into a bug-proof room with chairs and tables. Spread on the tables were an assortment of arms. “Giuseppe, I hear you’ve got beef out in Italy.”
Giuseppe stepped through the line of men, “Where have you heard this?”
“A birdie.”
Alfonzo didn’t like what he heard. “Is there heat coming down?”
“Already started, you guys gotta’ get this done. The Russians are coming and I got my boys on high alert on the east coast, so do the other families.”
“The Russians?”
“Fedrik Sidorov and his lot.”
Nico checked his watch, it was nearing seven thirty. “We have thirty minutes before the call; do you have a laptop I can use?”
“Mike, get Nico a computer.”
The large man nodded then shouldered back out the door, leaving his boss in the company of the lethal looking men.
“Were you able to secure the surveillance tapes?” Alfonzo asked. They were pressed for time.
“Sure did.”
He reached inside a desk in a corner of the room where a small flat screen TV and an old VHS player sat. “Here you go.”
“You have to be kidding, VHS tapes!” Alfonzo exclaimed.
“That’s why I had to go cop you guys something to play it with.” He pat the thick outdated metal device, Alfonzo noticed earlier. “It’s right here, baby!”
“Sheesh, thanks.” Alfonzo replied then handed Nico the tapes to view. “Here, you get the honors.” Alfonzo said before taking a seat near the desk to watch Nico work.
Dellegio stepped away from the desk to give Nico access and leaned against the wall. Nico removed his backpack and sat it on the floor. “I think there’s something you ought to know Nico. I got a visitor upstairs claiming to be Vincent’s son.” Dellegio said.
The trio of cousins directed their attention to Dellegio. Alfonzo spoke first, “Vincent has a son?”
“The guy came here with a birth certificate, some old photos of Vincent and his mom along with this address. Said his mom had them in her belongings when he went to clean out her apartment last month. Apparently, she died in a car accident and they were with her things.”
Giuseppe asked, “Did you check out his story. It might be a con?”
“Checked and double checked. Pans out.”
“How old is this kid?” Nico enquired.
“He’s twenty–four.”
“That’s not a kid!” Alfonzo muttered. “That would’ve put Vin in his late teens.”
“What’s he been doing for twenty-four years?”
“He’s got a little business.”
“What type of business?”
“Let’s just say he likes borrowing credit cards that ‘aint his.”
“Is he American?” Nico asked.
“American, through and through. Hails from Coney Island.”
Nico whistled, “Shit, it could be true. Vin and I did a job together out there when we were around eighteen. Vin met a girl at this club we went to and we stuck around a few days. I hung out at the beach most days while my brother entertained in our hotel room. The little summer romance lasted about a week then we flew home.”
“I’ll be damned.” Dellegio commented.
Nico plopped in the tape and pressed play and studied the TV screen, fast forwarding and reversing as he looked for anyone suspicious entering the lobby. He moved on to the other tapes, increasing the volume button, maybe a conversation would help. His attention was split between the news of Vincent having a kid and trying to find something that mi
ght give a clue about who abducted his son.
Lou and the guys went to check the weapons, leaving Alfonzo and the others to talk in private. Mike returned with a laptop and Nico reached for his son’s back pack and started setting up phone attachments to record the conversation between Ari and the kidnapper. He got Ariana on the line and told her he was all set. He checked his watch. Ten more minutes before the call. He held Ariana on the line as he checked the last tape dated Friday, and what do you know, a suit came in the lobby, and spoke to the security guard. From the audio he could hear the man say something about leaving his house key in his girlfriend Ariana’s apartment. Apparently, he knew the security guard because he was allowed in. “Ariana, describe this guy you’re dating.”
“Why?”
“Just do it.”
“Five-nine, six maybe. Short hair, glasses.”
Damn!
Alfonzo was eyeing the screen. The description she gave matched the man heading to the elevator. Now isn’t that a bitch?
“What’s his name, Ariana?”
“Oh no Nico we’ve been over this already. Not telling you.”
Alfonzo chimed in, “Then tell me Ariana, because it looks like your Mister Reliable might be behind your son’s kidnapping.”
“Alfonzo, what are you talking about?”
“We’re looking at a surveillance tape from a few days ago. A guy fitting the description you gave is in the lobby of your building. He claims he left something in your apartment.”
“Gregory Dixon. He’s supposed to be in Tokyo.”
“Unless there’s a Tokyo in your building lawyer lady, your new boyfriend is a goddamn liar.” Alfonzo scowled.
