by Frank, S. W.
Selange touched the rim of her oversized sun hat as Nico’s face appeared. The clarity of the image brought her upright. “I’ll talk to you later, going to join the fun.”
“Hold-up, why are you cutting out, we haven’t talked in a while?”
“We’ll talk later. I promise. Love, kisses -bye.” She hastily shut the laptop. Shanda was very astute; she’d comment on Selange’s guilt-stricken expression and ask a million questions about it until she uncovered the truth. Lingering might cause her to divulge answers. Selange wasn’t good at hiding her emotions, she’d gotten better at it lately, but the truth is she existed in a hue of grey. Should I tell Alfonzo, should I not? Keeping quiet was harder than she imagined. Guilt traveled with her every day, a friend-enemy, waiting to tell her secrets and steal her man away.
She sighed, eversince her infidelity she tried to keep busy, delving into charity work with renewed vigor and being super-attentive to her family. She fought like hell to forget about the night and morning with Nico but he was in her blood –and damn she couldn’t get him out. It was October, nearly three months later and it hadn’t gotten easier. Nothing worked and Shanda’s remark only worsened the guilt. She carried the dark truth every day and could not rid her mind of it. Each time she saw her reflection in a mirror, she saw the shame of it staring back, mainly because she liked it. Sex with Nico felt sinfully good!
She rose and jogged behind Allie, catching her as she stumbled on the grass. Sal kicked the ball to his father and Alfonzo stopped it with his foot, it rolled up his leg to his knee and he thrust it in the air then slapped the ball with his forehead. The ball careened past Sal, straight to the net and Allie clapped.
“Hey, it’s almost dinner time. Are you guy’s hungry, yet?”
Sal came running. His athletic legs pronounced for a boy his age. He was a miniature version of his father, through and through. He stopped in front of his little sister and got on his knee to talk to her, “Sis, you’re supposed to clap for me, not dad, remember?”
She clapped and Selange smiled, “You were good, Sal. You gave daddy a run for his money.”
Alfonzo jogged over, “Next time, if you want to beat me son, you need to earn it!” He said, flashing his handsome smile. Then they began play boxing.
Selange moved Allie out of the way as they threw air jabs at one another and laughed when Sal got in a low blow and she grimaced feeling her husband’s pain.
Alfonzo bellowed, “Damn, you and your mom fight dirty!” Then he wrestled Sal to the grass and the boy giggled non-stop as his dad rained fake punches down on his stomach, “Take that…and that… and that!”
Their horse-play concluded as soon as Anita yelled, “Hey, cut it out and come eat!”
Alfonzo and Sal scrambled up. Sal was getting tall, his head reached past his father’s abdomen. Soon he’d be at his chest, eventually they’d stand eye-to-eye. This was the Giacanti gene. All the men in his family were six feet or more, Sal would be no exception.
Selange’s smile faded and her eyes looked past Alfonzo. He turned in the direction of her gaze to see what caused her sudden mood change and saw Vincent marching toward them.
“Hey Uncle Vin!” Sal shouted sprinting to greet the burly man.
Vincent had the boy up with one hand, holding him in the air like a plane then set the boy on his feet. “What’s going on big Sal?”
“You missed our soccer game!”
They were walking and talking like old friends and Alfonzo had to tell Sal to go wash-up before dinner to get him to stop.
Selange balanced Allie on her hip, “Hi Vinny.”
Vincent smiled at the pretty woman and her equally adorable daughter. Alfonzo had a good-looking family. The man was lucky…damn lucky. “Hey sweethearts.” He said as he bent low to plant kisses on their cheeks. He also had an ulterior motive. Selange wore a V-neck top and he got an up close view of her succulent cleavage. She had to be a size 36C, it was just enough for him to handle. All the guys thought their boss’ wife was hot, he put them in check of course, but hey, they’re men and men dream, don’t they?
She informed Alfonzo she was heading inside then left the men to discuss business. “So what’s going on?” Alfonzo asked the taller man.
Vincent was the other half of the Serano twins, the funny one. Alfonzo could easily distinguish between the pair. Nico had a lethal stride; it sort of resembled a panther’s movements, smooth, coiled and deliberate. Vincent walked in a hurried fashion with loose limbs. There were distinctions in the features, as well. Vincent’s nose slanted slightly at the base, whereas Nico’s was straight and sinister, almost a snarl. Everything about Nico was intense, unlike Vincent who was quick to crack a joke.
“Someone reported Dominick missing. The feds paid a visit to Don Gregorio this morning. What do you want me to do about it, maybe eliminate the problem now?”
Alfonzo elevated Vincent to the status of Capo Bastone in his organization, his left hand man, a place he would’ve given Nico, had he stuck around. Selange would always sit at his right hand; it’s a position he’d never assign to anybody else. They were partners in life, in marriage, in –everything. The lengths she went through to get at Frank Monticelli when he was in jail proved she’s all the army he needed. He smiled thinking back a few months to New York when she took charge. She got Vincent out of a hiatus to watch Alfonzo’s tail then like a clean-up woman disposed of incriminating evidence that could’ve landed him in jail for the rest of his life. Selange, ‘humph,’ he thought, she’s fucking fierce!
Then there’s Lou, one of his father’s former crew. Good-natured, a middle-age man and an old school Sicilian. As Lieutenant, he heads the crew. A handpicked group of men with skills necessary in a lethal brawl but intelligent enough to know when to perform a discretionary kill. He didn’t need hot-heads, braggarts or men with uncontrollable vices. Those types were bad for business. He was reminded of the sagacity of this when he read about the Chicago mobster caught in a prostitution sting carrying an unlicensed and loaded revolver. The stupid fool, only hours prior he’d shot and killed an informant with the same damn gun!
‘Geez, lack of common sense had become an epidemic!’
The only potential loose cannon in the organization is Crazy Nicky. The man is somewhat of a mental case. He’d never argue, simply bust your head with bottle and shove the glass down your throat. Yeah, it’s true. He actually killed a man like that in Venezuela for calling him an American. Nicky’s from Calabria and super proud of it. He worked for Alfonzo’s father for twenty-two years. Alfonzo gave him his blessing to retire but the senior man wouldn’t have it and said, “Young Luzo, whacking people is all I know how to do. Once I retire I might end up whacking myself. Give me something to do. I’m still useful, you know.”
He floated about, somewhere in the hierarchy. He’d proven his loyalty over the years and getting rid of him just didn’t sit right. To be safe, Alfonzo kept him on a tight leash. The only time he unleashed him was when a problem arose that required an immediate and final resolution, then he sent Vincent and Crazy Nicky to do the job. Otherwise, he let Crazy Nicky manage the home security guys, this way he didn’t get into any trouble. So far, he was doing an excellent job.
“Send a reminder to the families.” Alfonzo answered.
If the feds were looking for Dominick, they’d never find him or his henchman Boris. Both of their remains were mixed with sand out on Miami Beach. A Dominick look-alike boarded a plane with his passport to Australia, months ago. Men get lost in Australia, Alfonzo chuckled. He wished the feds luck in solving the disappearance. The Australian outback is rough, with those man-eating crocodiles and shit.
As for Dominick’s money, well that went to pay-off his employees for their services and the rest was divvied up between the Dons. Alfonzo left no paper trail, nothing to connect him to the disappearance. Any of the Dons seeking to rat him out, well, they’d only be snitching on themselves. See, Alfonzo didn’t keep a dime of the money but he did keep
something else, a bit of insurance.
“I’ll go.” Vincent volunteered.
“No. The feds are probably watching Gregorio, besides this isn’t serious, I don’t want to kill Gregorio and Two Fingers. Once they see you coming they’ll shit their pants.”
Vincent laughed, “Yeah, they did smell kinda’ funky after I finished disemboweling those bodies.”
“You enjoy death too much Vin.” Alfonzo’s forehead crinkled. “Have Lou go. A friendly reminder will do, besides the two go back awhile, it’ll look as if he’s on a friendly visit to law enforcement. Sometimes, subtle intimidation is equally effective big guy.”
The wisdom of Alfonzo’s selection was vital. He didn’t want the feds picking him up on their radar. Senator Liebowitz often got word to him when any agencies gravitated his way. Last month it was the IRS and a so-called ‘audit.
Surprise! They found his accounts above reproach. The month before that, an ATF raid. Once again, surprise!
His security were all licensed to carry, he was a multi-millionaire high-profile businessman. Anyway, they didn’t find anything illegal on the premises. There wasn’t a stockpile of weapons in a backroom in anticipation of a war or something. Who’d they think he was a paranoid rapper?
It’s all a form of government harassment. They wanted Alfonzo aware of their presence and were sending a message that no one is untouchable. They weren’t wrong about everything but it’s a matter of proof, right?
“Alright, I’ll make sure it gets handled.” Vincent said jarring Alfonzo from his thoughts. “But, kid, in my experience it’s better to rid yourself of a potential rat then have it come back and bite your ass later.”
“We have different experiences, then.”
“Trust me; we’re all in the same cut-throat business. Just my opinion but hey you’re the boss.”
In parting Alfonzo said, “And oh yeah, stop ogling my wife’s tits, fucking pervert!”
Vincent’s boisterous laugh resounded across the warm evening wind, “Just admiring perfection…nothing wrong with looking. Maybe, you should’ve married a troll!”
***
Nico walked downstairs, spotted Ariana in the corner of the sofa staring at her computer and strolled over, “Morning sweetheart, where’s the boys?”
Her head swiveled to face him, anger unmistakable in the intelligent brown eyes. “The boys are out in the car. I’m leaving and taking them back to New York.”
He noticed she was fully dressed, how this detail slipped his attention was primarily due to the aberrations of sleep deprivation. He wasn’t sleeping much lately and began to pay for it big-time. “You’re leaving, for how long?”
She hissed, “For good!”
Fatigue cleared from his eyes and he leaned forward, the impact of her words like an alarm clock at eight in the morning. His senses told him she knew everything, or part of it, anyway, but for clarification he asked, “Why?”
The computer notebook angled in his direction and she hit the play button. He maintained a stone-face. Outwardly, he appeared unemotional, even unapologetic but internally he cursed himself for not discarding the security disc. The video’s clarity showed everything. Selange’s long hair flowed down Nico’s shoulder during a loving embrace and the exchange of whispered endearments during their intimacy was overheard as if on loudspeaker. These were conjugal scenes; yet, the woman he made passionate love to was not his wife. The woman sitting at arm’s length with the pixie haircut and scowl was and her name’s Ariana.
“You’ve screwed around on me before Nico and I accepted it. I wasn’t a fool about your needs, but this…this is different,” her anger rose, “Nico this isn’t a quick fuck. You didn’t even think to wear a condom. You’re making love to her and it’s crazy because she’s Alfonzo’s wife. It explains the scratches on your back and the distant behavior. No wonder you can’t sleep!” She pressed eject and the disc holder popped open. She removed the small shiny object and put it on his thigh then slammed the laptop shut.
Ariana felt betrayed. Alfonzo’s wife was drop-dead gorgeous. My goodness, she’d never seen a more prefect woman. Everything from the lustrous brown skin, sensuous curves and a mane of hair women envied. How in hell could she compete with that, huh?
The hurt and humiliation escalated. The video didn’t lie, the pair were lovers. And since when did Nico forget to put a prophylactic on that anaconda? Dammit, she refused to live with someone who wanted another woman. Frankly, she wasn’t about to share Nico…not anymore!
Finally, she exclaimed, “I’m not staying here watching you pine over another woman. I’m done, Nico, we’re over!”
She got to her feet clutching the little computer and marched out the door. Nico took a minute to get over what just happened and took up pursuit. He got to the driveway and blocked the car, tapped on the hood and the engine died down. Ariana would never intentionally run him over in front of the boys, just like he’d never intentionally hurt her. He only wanted to say good-bye to his sons and express how much he loved them. She let him do this, kindly giving him a small consolation.
Nico opened the backdoor, knelt inside the car and made a joke of it, “Mom hates it here, she’s a New Yorker and they detest the tropics. I knew it was only a matter of time before she craved the city’s pollution. Hey, your old man hates New York, so I guess we’re at an impasse.”
“It’s not funny dad, what happened, why’s mom mad at you?” Aaron asked bluntly.
Nico’s jovial tone became more serious as he looked in the boyishly sad faces, “Dad fucked up, it’s not your mom’s fault it’s mine. You guys are old enough to understand how it is. I mess up a lot. One thing I did right though is having you. So, if you ever need dad, call and I’ll move mountains to get to you. On the blood of my father I’ll be there.”
They were better off with Ariana; at least with their mom they were safe. She’d raise them to become respectable adults, mainly because their father wasn’t.
The boys were crying, rubbing at their youthful cheeks, unashamed of their emotional display. Darren was able to ask, “Dad, can’t you fix it, I mean you love mom right, just fix it?”
“Son, it’s not that simple your mom needs time, maybe one day she’ll forgive me.”
“But…this is fucked-up. You mess up and we get punished!” Aaron exclaimed.
“Hey, kid cool down with that mouth.” Nico warned.
Aaron folded his arms defiantly and kicked the back of the seat, “You curse a lot. You make me mad. Just when everything’s good, you go and screw it up, dad!”
The boy was right, he fucked-up and he couldn’t take it back. What the hell was he thinking bringing evidence like that home, he asked himself? He knew the answer, it was his way of holding on to a piece of Selange. A reminder of what they shared. Dumb, unprofessional and a tragic mistake. Look at the results of the poor decision. He frowned, of course he knew better!
“Boys, that’s enough. Say good-bye to your dad we gotta go!” Ariana said over her shoulder.
“Dad, will you be okay by yourself?” Darren asked compassionately.
“I’ll be okay, son. Always listen and respect your mom. Y’hear me?”
“Okay,” Darren replied.
Aaron released a breath of hot air.
Nico tousled Aaron’s curly locks, “Look at me son.”
Aaron eye-balled him. The anger diminished when he noticed his dad’s sadness. “I’m really sorry I’m a terrible husband, but I don’t think I’m such a bad dad, am I?”
“No, you’re not, you’re the best that’s why I’m mad.”
“You’re a great kid. Both you guys are and I love you more than anything.” His impenetrable wall began to crack. He could feel it building. His eyes became shiny liquid glass but not one tear fell. He looked at his wife and noticed her crying, a bit. It broke him in half. He did find paradise, as short as it was; he found it with the three people right here. He should’ve fought in that moment for his family, begged his wife�
�s forgiveness, forbid her to go, whatever it took, but he didn’t. Instead he returned to stone and said to Ariana, “I’m sorry I screwed up. I love you. Take care of the boys, I’ll keep in touch.”
Aaron hugged him the tightest. Soon, he gave the boys a reassuring grin then waved as the SUV rolled out of his life. He returned to the empty house, picked up the disc, crunched it in his hand and let the broken pieces collect dust in the course of the lonely days that followed. He had no regrets, except one. He lost his family.
The next week, Nico came out of retirement. He didn’t do it for the money; he had loads of the stuff, or family or duty. He did it to kill the emotional upheaval wreaking havoc in his body. His love for Selange cost him everything and it was much more than he bargained for. One night with her and the course of his life shifted. He’d eradicated her nightmares and they leapt into his soul. Selange was embedded in his psyche and to dislodge her he swore to inflict pain on his victims, so much hurt they’d beg and scream like his tormented soul. Love yielded an intermittent reprieve from his true vocation, and loss returned him to it. He hadn’t been given clemency in this life, why the hell should anyone else?
He was after-all, his father’s son, and a butcher of men. Nothing more than a hardened and trained killer for the mob. Heck, he shouldn’t be stumbling in the dark in search of light, or dreaming he could escape to paradise. What good’s a solitary paradise, anyway? His twin brother Vincent was right. Retirement for killers consisted of an after-life in hell.
Nico’s nostrils flared; he could inhale the blackened smoke and see the raging flames then his chest expanded into an epidermic wall of armored resistance. Yeah, hell without salvation was the direction and it was stupid to believe otherwise.
Resigned to this fact, he sneered, then so be it, he’d blaze a fiery path to Hades and beat the hell out of Satan the moment he opened the door!
