ATONEMENT (Alfonzo)

by Frank, S. W.

  “Okay…Allie…Alfonzo no mas!”

  “Anita muy loco.” Alfonzo teased circling his finger near his head and pointing to the woman in the doorway.

  This made Allie laugh harder and she held onto his neck, mimicking his actions.

  “Muy loco…muy loco.”

  “Okay, enough. Come here nina.”

  “Anita muy loco, muy loco.” Allie sang as Alfonzo put her down to the floor.

  He laughed at Anita’s stricken face

  The stern woman was not amused, “I hope you happy. Now, she’ll be bad all day.”

  “She’s two, what do you expect?”

  “Stop teaching her bad things!” Anita chastised, “When Selange comes home, I tell her what you teach Aldonza. Call me crazy, eh I show you crazy!”

  Alfonzo squint, the smile gone. Anita was pissed at him and it wasn’t about his daughter. “Lo que hago? Seriously, what did I do?”

  She took the girl’s hand and stood there glaring at him, “You behave badly again. You learn nada last time. I sick watching; now I tell you stop!” She spun around with his daughter and marched away.

  Alfonzo blinked, wow. Anita was tripping. Tonight she’d prepare a crappy meal to serve as punishment. He and Sal were eating out, for sure!

  He tugged on his cuffs then went to collect his son. Sal was ready; he actually did a pretty good job, except his shirt clashed with the suit. Purple and brown, horrendous match. He looked in the boy’s closet, took out a cream shirt, “You did well, but this color shirt is more pleasing on the eyes. Women…I mean girls like when boys match.” He was fibbing, of course, because girls at Sal’s age didn’t give a crap about clothes or boys. “And I like it.”

  Sal shrugged and changed without debate then they were out the house.

  ***

  Alfonzo was glad he brought Sal along for the day. It was cool having him in the boardroom; he was getting an invaluable education on the workings of a corporation.

  The boy sat attentively, hands folded, listening to the company’s strategies, dividends, their objectives, salaries and other company matters, like the recent law suit filed by the injured worker who claimed there was improper and inadequate safety equipment the day of his accident. Ching-ching; a tort. Worker’s compensation covered injured workers yet did not prevent an injured worker from suing his employer for negligence. The men argued whether to settle out of court, avoid a trial and the costly legal fees. Alfonzo scoffed, “He’s suing for one million dollars. What’ll we offer him, fifty thousand? Hell no, the attorney will believe he has us running scared. We go to court; the burden of proof is on the worker. We prove otherwise.”

  “What if someone testifies on his behalf?”

  “Like who?”

  “Another worker or ambulance personnel.”

  “My money’s on they’re not.”

  The men nodded. They were shrewd businessmen. They were aware of Alfonzo’s ties to organized crime and at times like these his connections were more effective than tossing around money. A talk is all they needed. A bribe, well once again, that’s still cash they were reluctant to part with, unless absolutely necessary.

  When the meeting ended his son leaned over and asked, “Why was that man picking his nose all the time?”

  Alfonzo chuckled; Jack Linton was the man Sal was referring to. He suffered from allergies and poor manners. Alfonzo overlooked these and other quirks but kids did not. “He always thinks his nose is itching.”

  “It’s nasty. That’s how you spread germs. At home mom and Anita always make us wash our hands, even at school we have to wash our hands, a lot.”

  Alfonzo’s eyebrow arched, “Yeah, you should.”

  The secretary came in with a McDonald’s bag and an order of bistec encebellao, tostones and a bottle of mabi. She sat the food in front of them. “Here’s your food gentleman.”

  Sal grinned from ear to ear. Fast food wasn’t allowed in their home, Selange’s rules but today the boy deserved a treat. Besides, they’d work it off playing soccer or boxing.

  “Thanks Georgina,” Alfonzo said to the bleached blonde secretary. The woman dressed in her usual style of eye-catching attire. Today it was a form fitting Giliano dress, high heels and thin blazer. Alfonzo had no complaints about her attire; it was professional and gave his male client’s visuals. Besides, she was excellent at her job. Three years in and she hadn’t missed a beat.

  Sal’s smile hadn’t faded, either. The boy had a crush on Georgina, although she was thirty years his senior and married with four kids. “Gracias Georgie.”

  Oh yeah and he got to call her Georgie!

  “No problema. If you need anything else senor Sal let me know,” she said then winked her false eyelash at him and the boys cheeks flushed crimson.

  Alfonzo snickered; the woman was shameless for encouraging the boy when he didn’t have a chance in hell.

  When she stepped out and closed the door, Sal spun around excitedly, “She’s so nice.”

  “Um, yes she is.” Alfonzo commented as he whipped out his cell. Sal copied his actions and Alfonzo smirked.

  Alfonzo text his wife, to tell her how much he loved her then thumbed through the messages. He glanced over at his son, the boy was actually texting somebody. No shit! “So who are you texting?”

  “Mom.”

  “Yeah, I text her, too.”

  “Did she text you back?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Oh, ‘cause she text me, see.”

  Alfonzo’s body leaned toward the boy and he read the screen which Sal conveniently held up to his face. Sure enough, Selange replied to her son, ‘luv u can’t wait 4 u to get here, xoxo.’ There was even a cute little happy face.

  Alfonzo sat erect, feeling somewhat…well…like a chump!

  Sal put down his phone and took a long sip of soda as Alfonzo returned to checking his messages. “Maybe, mom’s mad at you.” The boy reasoned, straw still in his mouth as he spoke.

  “She can join the club.”

  “Send her flowers.”

  Alfonzo’s head remained down as he read. “You think that’ll help the old man?”

  “Yep, mom likes flowers.”

  Alfonzo doubted flowers were the answer but he appreciated his son’s advice. “If you think it’ll help I’ll do that.”

  Sal smiled. Today he got to go to work with his dad and eat whatever he wanted. He was a man, just like his dad. He dug into the bag for the fries and chewed happily. Being grown-up wasn’t hard; he couldn’t understand why grown-ups complained about it all the time. He decided when he got big, he’d have Georgina come work for him and have a game system in his office, eat anything he wanted and send flowers to everybody who got mad at him. Yep, then everyone would be happy!

  Sal finished off the fries and started on his cheeseburger but Alfonzo had yet to touch his food; he was busy reading messages. A text message from Domingo. Teresa and he were coming out on the fifteenth with his mom, today was the fifteenth. What was his mom coming to PR for, he wondered, didn’t she say she wasn’t going on the trip? Then there was a cryptic message from Giuseppe. ‘Call cugino, it’s urgent.’

  “I’ll be back in a sec,” he said to Sal and hurried to his office, removed an untraceable phone from his desk and made an international call.

  “Yeah, what’s up cugino?”

  “When are you coming?”

  “Tomorrow morning, just finishing up here.”

  “Bring a case of the Anejo rums for the bachelor party.”

  Alfonzo sighed, “That’s it?”

  “Were you expecting disaster?”

  Actually, he was. “Adios!”

  “Remember the rum. Ciao.”

  ***

  Vincent remarked, “Lou said your family’s at the house.”

  Alfonzo nodded, “Yeah, got the memo earlier.”

  The car passed the security gate and Alfonzo could see the garage door up and Emilio’s feet sticking out from beneath one of the many cars.
He hadn’t spoken much to the guy since the other night and asked Vincent to let him out. “Take Sal inside for me, I want to talk to Emilio for a sec.”

  “No problem.”

  He exited the car and cut across the lawn to the garage set up as a shop. He didn’t trust many people with his cars. Emilio, Domingo and a specialist in New York were the only people allowed to do work on them. Emilio could fix anything with the right tools and he made sure he got whatever he requested.

  “What’s up Emilio?” He called as he neared the open door.

  Emilio rolled out on the mechanic’s creeper, ratchet in hand, “Hey Mister Diaz, how are you?”

  “Bueno. Is there a problem with the car?” Alfonzo asked walking beside the black Bentley Supersports Coupe.

  Emilio stood, “The drive train had a loose bushing. I had to tighten it up, otherwise it’s good.”

  Alfonzo leaned against the car. He noticed the young man was staying late every day in the shop instead of going home. Dedication or a sign of trouble at home, Alfonzo didn’t know but decided to intervene. “How’s things going at home?”

  “They’re good.”

  He noticed Emilio avoided eye contact when he said it. “You know raising kids isn’t easy. Once they’re here you can’t give them back.”

  Emilio scoffed, “Yeah.”

  “As hard as it is, I love every minute of it.” He shuffled his feet, put his hands in his pockets and thoughtfully said, “You have to want it though. We can’t bring the crap from the past into it. Men have baggage just like women but we keep it bottled up and once things get rough we shut down, walk out on our kids and leave the woman to try and fill our roles.”

  Emilio stood there wiping the ratchet clean with a cloth. “Women walk out on their kids, too.”

  And there’s Emilio’s baggage. He put it at the door. “Yeah but it’s not the norm. Far more sperm donors who call themselves fathers abandon their kids, don’t provide for them and the really cowardly ones won’t acknowledge they even have any.”

  Emilio’s mouth tightened.

  “Whether it works out with you and Jess is none of my business but you’re having a baby and stepping up should be a paternal instinct, anything less is the action of a boy trying to fit into a man’s shoes.” Alfonzo pushed off the car, he’d said enough. Time for Emilio to man the fuck up! If he were having second thoughts about his relationship, so be it, but Jess was pregnant and if he didn’t want children he should’ve worn six condoms or kept his dick in his pants. It’s equivalent to shooting somebody then claiming you didn’t mean to kill them. Dumb-kid never considered the consequences.

  “Go home and take a week off, you’re working too hard.”

  Alfonzo walked past Emilio and started toward the house. Now, he had to face his mom and resolve personal issues of his own. Man, that conversation was sure to be a heated one!

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Spending days in the company of different women was a drama filled book. Marcella, the control-freak, overbearing eldest of the bridesmaids was also the most outspoken. Her dislike for Renalda matched her disdain for Lucia. She made no qualms about it, taking cracks at their provocative dress, hair, anything that came to mind whenever the pair came in close proximity. The elder women scolded her for her bad manners and Marcella’s wide lips would simply turn into an unflattering scowl then she’d march away muttering obscenities.

  Selange asked Amelda what prompted Marcella’s derision and the stylish woman shrugged, “Marcella is Marcella, only she knows her mind.”

  ‘Okay’, Selange thought, Amelda certainly was not the type to gossip. Selange suspected there was a history between the women, such dislike often involved a man, why else would someone go out of their way to cause such misery?

  It was Crystalia, the less tempered one who offered the 4-1-1 on the other women, including her over a late night snack. They’d come to the kitchen, from different directions, each in search of food. Selange craved strawberries and found some in the fridge. Crystalia decided to finish off the left-over chocolate mousse from dinner. Selange sat at the table in the kitchen, Crystalia leaned nearby and they were laughing at themselves for their shameless gluttony when Crystalia flipped her long red hair and pointed her fork to the entry, “Tia finds us, we are kaput!” She exclaimed with a heavy accent.

  “Yes, she’s scary, isn’t she?”

  “Not as scary as the big one Marcella, no?”

  “Oooh, you’re right. Marcella’s scarier.”

  She slid down the counter and whispered conspiratorially, “The reason Marcella despises Renalda is because she slept with her husband. Everyone knows but we pretend we do not.”

  Selange dipped another strawberry in the thick cream and took a large bite. “Ummm, makes sense now.”

  “And Kim-Sung, she worked as an escort, which is how she met her husband.” She chuckled. “You see, we are a sordid bunch.”

  “We all have a past.”

  “What about you, what are your secrets?”

  The question caused Selange pause. Whatever secrets she had were remaining with the person she trusted most, Selange. She shrugged, “Secrets should remain secrets, right?”

  The young woman smiled, “My secret is I had a crush on Matteo but…” she shrugged, “he fell in love with Amelda instead. I’m happy for my friend, they are happy together…with me he would not rest.”

  Selange snickered, “I don’t doubt it.”

  They talked a bit longer and she got the scoop on everybody, even Alfonzo’s step-sisters. The teenage girls were rather famous actresses in Europe and had a hit show with scores of adoring young fans. The eldest, nineteen year-old Adrianna was the wild one, Crystalia reported. She lived for the spotlight, partied till the wee hours and had a penchant for older men. Their mother, Natalie was a movie star in Italy. Beautiful and a consummate paramour. Her latest lover was a Russian billionaire. At this moment she was in St. Petersburg filming a movie and no one knew if she were coming for the wedding. Then again, Natalie Luna liked to make grand entrances.

  She pointed the fork at Selange, “I think you are nice for an American.”

  “Well thank you and for an Italian you’re not bad yourself.”

  The woman ate the last morsel from her glass dish and smiled, “Ummm, delicioso!” She washed the dessert bowl and fork then joined Selange at the table and bent over to the newest member of their bunch. The floral scent of her body overpowered Selange’s super sensitive nose. “Be careful of Lucia and Renalda. Lucia despises you and tonight I heard her say she will get you back for the worms.”

  “Let her try.”

  “She has already tried to seduce Nico to get information about you. I saw her.”

  Now this piqued Selange’s interest. Or maybe it was jealousy she felt. “What did you see?”

  “She was rubbing him down there, asking if he would like company tonight.”

  Selange appeared unaffected. Poker face Nico warned. “And?”

  “He refused.” She smirked, “She is not the only one who has tried.”

  “You too?”

  “Not yet, but aye maybe soon. What do you know about your bodyguard?” She clicked her tongue then waved her hand before Selange could answer. “He is pericoloso…”

  “Perry what?”

  “Pericoloso –dangerous. Dangerous is sexy to many women but men fear him and very few have actually seen Nico. They fear Nico more than brother or his father.”

  Selange knew Nico was dangerous, after-all he was an enforcer, aren’t they supposed to be?

  “His father was called ‘The Butcher’. He was once a young soldato for the Giacanti’s, they say after the murders he worked for Leppienza Toscado. This is when he got the name of The Butcher. He would cut men’s tongues and hearts from their bodies and was masterful in his technique. The men would be alive begging he shoot them but he would not. He took pleasure in killing them slowly.”

  Selange grimaced, “Ew!”

 
; “I have heard my father say, Nico is worse. He kills a man in silence. He never speaks and the method of death can be any. No one sees him coming, death is his calling card.”

  Selange frowned, why was Crystalia telling her these things?

  Then the question was answered, “Nico does not guard anyone unless he has been ordered by a Capo de tutti.”

  “My husband?”

  Crystalia snickered, “You are unaware of things,” she looked around, listened, then certain it was safe to proceed said, “Your husband’s influence here is not as great as in America. He is not of the old ways. Nico’s family are Sicilians, they follow the dictates of the great Sergio Giacanti, they give deference to your husband out of respect for his father Luzo Palazzo, but it is the Giacanti’s who are the original mafia family. Lucia and Renalda were talking. For Nico to be here, I heard them say he is under the direction of an Italian descendant of Sergio Giacanti. Nico, like his father would not be given a menial undertaking to guard someone, unless they are very important. You must be important, Selange.”

  Selange remained silent. They did not know. Of course, they didn’t why else would Crystalia relay these tales. Luzo Palazzo was a Giacanti. He changed his identity after the massacre, as did his brother Carlo Dichenzo, Amelda’s father. Both men were dead, direct Italian descendants of the once powerful man on these shores, but a secret she would not share with the well-intentioned gossip. Although, what Crystalia said disturbed Selange. If it was true about this Capo de tutti, Boss of bosses so to speak, having influence here far beyond her husband’s then that could only mean one thing. This influential Italian descendant could only be one man, Alberti Luca.

  Alfonzo told her months ago about Alberti. The youngest sibling of the Giacanti’s was not slaughtered as many believe. He was saved and taken to the home of the infamous ‘Butcher’ and raised as his son. Nearly two decades later, The Butcher’s wife had twin boys, Nico and Vincent. Alberti was a man by then, yet just as Alberti’s Alfonzo’s and Giuseppe’s blood uncle, he is also by legal definition Nico’s adopted brother. This fact haunted her.