by S. W. Frank
Chapter Six
The lush greenery stretched out like carpet on the Diaz estate. The blooming flowers were lovingly tended. Ari desired a similar garden at her new home. She wasn’t the domesticated type, however observing Nico chasing Semira, Angie and Vincent in the yard she planned to adapt her thinking. She had never understood women like Selange. They enjoyed caring for kids and their man, happily at that. However, she understood better now, seeing the smile on the face of her husband and the children. Sure, she could work, find a balance, make family the priority and recognize how sweet she had it under the circumstances.
My man has a nice ass, she smirked as the children went running to the swings and Nico stood there watching, shoving his hands in his pockets and the material stretched over his derriere. He planted himself there like a tree.
Ari crossed the lawn, sliding her arm around his waist and leaned into his solid body and looked into his face. The smile she expected was absent. If sadness is palpable, then she could feel it on her skin. Something had affected him –deeply. She became nervous, hoping he wasn’t fucking around with somebody again because it’s Murphy’s Law in her marriage.
His eye remained on the children. “You know there’s a time I dreamed of us being together like this.”
“Spit it out Nico. I’m impatient, you know that.”
“I’m about to break one of my cardinal rules.”
“Which one? Hopefully, it isn’t our marriage vows.”
He turned sideways to peer intently at his lovely wife. “Hey, look at me.” When she did, he had a frown. “Those vows are solid. You have nothing to worry about. Geez sweetheart, can’t you tell I’m happy?”
The wrinkle of her brow was comical. “Not with that expression.”
“Well I am. What you see is concern –for those kids.”
“Why? What’s happened?”
“You once said I never share. Usually, what’s shared in confidence stays that way, but this is different… this affects you...especially since I’ve observed how you and Selange developed a genuine relationship over the years. I’m grateful to you love, ah!” He groaned, finding it difficult to divulge a confidence when he’d been a man that kept secrets. He had so many stored in his brain, but Vincent’s confession tripled his heartache. “Dammit!”
“Nico what is it? Now I’m getting scared, are you sick? Nico do you have AIDS?”
“No.” He snorted. Didn’t he have that test and show her the results, post Bianca? “Selange has breast cancer.”
Wham!
The news sent Ari for a loop. Ari actually stumbled, cupping her mouth. “What?” Her lower lip quivered.
All the raw emotions she suppressed over the years poured out. She had grown tight she supposed with Selange, but she also had lashed out on her on occasion. She felt awful because she had recently contacted the woman, threatening to beat her daughter when the woman had cancer on her plate.
Ari, the hard as nails attorney that her counterparts called Cruella with a Briefcase, experienced a tear for somebody else. Yes, she cried, because for certain, Selange would fight for a friend, and lay down her life for her children and her man. The possibility of Selange dying young seemed tragic. Ari sniffled; she had to get it together for her family.
What if Selange died –like how devastating would that be for the children –for everyone? They’d need a stable person to fill the huge gap left behind and unfortunately, Ari had yet to tap into her nurturing side. Some women are naturals at motherhood, and others work extremely hard at it. Nevertheless, she was willing to dedicate the time, just as she’d done in law school to ace those exams.
“Oh sheesh, I can’t fathom Selange being sick.” She let the tears roll. “I’m in her damn house with my wild kids and she hasn’t once let on she was dealing with anything so big–ooh I feel so bad!”
“Ari, she just learned the diagnosis this morning. That’s why she went to Cirella Island, to figure out how to break the news to her family. Al is trying to hold it together the best he can but as you see, he’s unraveling. This is when we step up. Whatever, baggage we have, we drop it, we let that couple know, we have their backs. All right love –are you fully out of the past and in the present with me?”
Ari nodded, sniffled and tried very hard to think positive. “Yes, I’m present.”
“Good,” he said like a stern professor and then answered her unspoken questions. “Al says she has stage 1 breast cancer. After treatment, the prognosis is good. She’ll beat this.” He squeezed her waist, believing that. Selange was a fighter; he’d seen her in action. He sighed; she loved her kids and husband. They were the purses in a heavyweight bout, the championship belt and her reason to beat the disease.
Nico’s eyes settled on Semira. She had jumped off the swing and put her hands atop her loose curly hair to look at her parents. She called to her dad to play with her.
“Gimme a minute darling!” His arms loosened from around Ari’s soft body. We’re leaving tomorrow to give them some peace.”
“Where are we going? The house isn’t finished and my parents aren’t expecting us until another week. That's when they return from vacation. I’ll be damned if I sleep on the yacht with all the kids or at Sophie’s with Amelda trotting around complaining.”
His mouth twisted, refraining from pointing out that they had something in common. Instead, he patiently replied, “I’ve arranged a visit with Lorenzo. He’s in a big house and welcomes the company.”
“Papa, come on. You’re it!”
Ari had heard the horrible story about Lorenzo’s family. “Uh, Nico. I don’t know if I want to be in a house where people were murdered.”
“No…no…no. That happened at the Grandfather’s estate. Lorenzo is at his parent’s place.”
“Oh, because you’d be going there by yourself.” Her tears had dried, well; she used her husband’s nice smelling shirt to clean her face, thinking naughty thoughts even when distraught. Nico could sex her happy, and that’s a damn shame, she opined as the kids shouted for him and not her.
“Uncle Nico, stop rubbing Aunt Ari’s butt and chase us again!” Vincent blurted aloud in an indignant tone.
Nico squeezed Ari’s ass in defiance, laughing at the kids when they gave a collective, “Ew! Yuck!” He hunched lower to kiss his wife playfully. He peered over her head as the kids scattered in every direction disgusted by the display of affection.
“Hmm, sweetheart, you make me want to keep you fed and in the bed,” he said huskily during the retraction. He snickered at the children’s taunt.
“Uncle Nico and Aunt Ari sitting in a tree k-i-s-s-i-n-g!”
He gave them the finger behind Ari’s back and they shouted. “Ooooh, that’s a curse! You’re in trouble!”
“By the way, Al has said it’s okay and we can take his children along.”
She snapped out of her haze, quick fast. “Cosa? Oh hell no!”
“Yeah, this is a great way for you to bond with Allie. You two have a lot in common.”
He released his wife before she protested any further. Eventually, she’d warm to the idea. He dashed toward the kids and instead of scattering; they merged into a tight formation squealing at the top of their lungs. If they considered that their best evasion strategy, boy were they were wrong, Nico laughed. They were silly and awesome. He’d teach them a thing or two about evasive maneuvers, later.
The girls’ thick ringlets were free and unencumbered. Little Vincent, outran the pack, and slowed several times, waving the girls ahead like a chivalrous protector as Nico closed the distance.
They were tight, those three and Nico hoped they stayed friends forever.
Then he heard Ari shouting as she took up pursuit. “I’m playing, too!”
Nico slackened his pace to allow the kids to keep their lead. He looked over his shoulder at Ari in an awkward attempt at running. She held her boobs and Nico chuckled at his sexy woman; glad that she decided to join the fun but then she suddenly tripped.<
br />
How does someone trip on air?
Ari did. Apparently, his wife never ran from anything in her life.
Oh, damn! Nico grimaced as Ari’s face contorted in slow motion and she tumbled face first to the lawn. The children witnessed the scene and laughed.
“Hey, it’s not funny! You don’t laugh at old people!” Allie screamed as she jogged over to help, but Nico was faster in reaching Ari and aiding her upright.
“Are you all right?” Allie asked.
“Yes, I’m fine.” Ari replied, feeling like a dope for being uncoordinated, but she had a smile as she spit out grass. All she needed to do now was nay like a horse.
Allie put her hands on her hips. “Listen, Aunt Ari, I don’t usually apologize to anybody that threatens me. But, dad said I have to because you’re an adult in the family –so sorry!”
Ari nodded. “I accept your sorry ass apology, next time make it convincing. They’d lock your tush away if you ever came before a judge with that attitude.”
Allie’s nose wrinkled. Ooh, Ari thought. She looks like her mom, but lacked the sweet attitude.
When Allie sauntered to the front of the house with haute airs, Nico’s eyes twinkled with mirth. “We’re certain to have an interesting summer…ooh boy!”
Chapter Seven
Giuseppe glanced at his son sitting beside him at the miniature desk. Carlo scribbled circles with crayons, his mouth terse, as his father’s when he didn’t have a liquor bottle at his lips.
Giuseppe brought his son along to the office on a summer morning to escape Amelda’s prying, his Mama’s coddling and the screech of bambina, Sofia. Sí, he could have left Carlo to play with his cugino, as his Mama suggested, but he needed to be with his son after their horrible ordeal.
Carlo glanced at his Papa. “Are you finished?”
“Soon.”
“Can I visit Vincenzo?”
“No.”
“Perché?”
“Ti’amu Carlo,” Giuseppe answered in a slurred voice. He lifted the bottle to his mouth and guzzled to burn out his evil. He saw his wife’s blood, rewound his life and grumbled to the walls. “I am cursed. Carlo, your Mama has hexed me. She was a witch!”
“Mama is not!” Carlo screamed, shocking his father by the veracious response, complete with crayons firing at his Papa’s head. One sailed to the moistness of a drunken man’s skin, barely waking the self-pitying Sicilian from his nonsensical speech. “Mama is good. Stu’ pazzu!”
Giuseppe’s mouth sneered in derision. He spoke to a child poised for kindergarten as if he debated with a Philosophy Professor. “Then tell me then why I cannot be with another since your Mama died? Huh, tell me that Carlo Dichenzo?”
Carlo looked around anxiously. His lip quivered in fear. “I want to go. Ora.”
The door opened and the stern Secretary entered. She heard the news upon arriving about the death of her employer’s wife. She wondered why Signore Dichenzo came into work when his wife had recently died –and with his young son at that. She assessed the scene with a frown. The Boss drowned his despair. Signore Giuseppe's behavior was unacceptable –completely unacceptable for an impressionable child!
“Leave, Signora!” Giuseppe shouted before she opened her mouth to proffer condolences or bold chastisement.
“Signore Dichenzo, may I take Carlo for a treat?”
“Va!” he shouted, pounding his fist to the desk, sending the bottle of Vodka rolling over the edge.
Carlo jumped with wide eyes when the glass struck the floor.
“Carlo, come with me,” she said sweetly. Her matronly voice held a non-threatening timbre; however, Giuseppe rose, and intimidated her with his massive frame.
The Don stood over six feet.
The Secretary hovered at a mere five feet one.
“You will not take Carlo without my permission Signora. You are to leave as ordered or you will be terminated!”
The Secretary slowly exited. Her face was a mask of concern. She summoned Giuseppe’s Capo to demand he intervene. However, the Capo dealt with his Boss’ temper during many violent mood swings and advised her to contact the Boss’ brother.
• • • • • •
“Have you ever seen a pumpkin sun?”
“No Papa,” Carlo said and put his head down on his desk. His eyes were red from crying for his Mama.
Giuseppe saw the bright orb in his mind. He smiled because Shanda was there, sharing the view at his side. His stomach churned from the corrosive booze, and he realized he had not eaten. Usually, his Mama’s pastries could lure him to the counter, but this morning he found his appetite soured. It was noon, yet he desired drink. The stronger, the better.
“She bled out. Bullets bore holes into people. Pow –pow –pow!” Giuseppe said while imitating a gun with his finger, frightening his son, but he didn’t mean to. He was inebriated, bereft and desolate. He stretched his eyes with his palms and then pulled on rubbery cheeks, hoping to sober. He heard the crying child, but heavily intoxicated, could not comfort anyone. The child must fend for himself. Nicole’s image had blocked the mental doorway to the boy.
She had Carlo. The gun had been too close to his son. She used the child to whip him, for pleasure. The lash resembled a rouge mark on his cheek. The greatest injury had been to his ego.
Boom!
Alfonzo collided with the wall.
Giuseppe closed his eyes.
Boom!
He jumped to his feet in the day terror.
Boom!
Nicole gasped; she hadn’t realized Giuseppe could be swift when necessary. His weight had crushed her to the bed and the gun discharged into her chest.
“I loved you.” Nicole’s final words echoed in his skull.
Cathedral ceilings rained blood on his head.
He pressed his cheek to the desk, feeling the coolness.
Disoriented, he groaned, a drunkard in pain.
Cursed.
He believed the hex came the day he sought to buy a fast car to win Shanda’s affection when he should have gone slow and gave her more love.
Giuseppe’s shoulders lifted and then fell in agony at the sight of Carlo’s Mama on the stretcher.
Had he grieved?
He had numbed the loss of Carlo's Mama with booze as comfort.
He had convinced himself he was in love with Nicole. However, in his innermost dreams was the yearning for another. His grief had not ended. He was punished for lying.
"Russian corrosion!" He shouted as his insides burned.
Foolish that he believed Nicole might change him for the better…foolish to believe he’d have a new beginning when he held onto the old.
Boom!
The truth had the impact of a bullet to the brain.
“Zio!” Carlo suddenly shrieked with relief, tears of fear pouring from his eyes when his Uncle Alfonzo entered followed by the Secretary and his Capo.
“Come here niño, ah, it’s okay…you watched your Papa until I came. That’s a brave niño,” Alfonzo said to the child as he lifted him up, messing his hair before nudging his small chest with his nose and bringing a smile to the child. He then set the boy on his feet. “You're my hero. Now go with this nice guy and he'll take you outside to wait with Allie in the car. She has ice cream for you. I just need a sec to talk to your dad.”
"Can I stay with you Zio?" Carlo asked after peeking anxiously at his Papa.
The action elicited an impassioned reply. "Of course you can!"
Giuseppe heard the conversation but his torso was too heavy to rise. He could if he tried, but he preferred to rest until the spinning room stopped.
Face plastered to the wood, his eyes followed his fratellino’s feet.
Sneakers?
Had Alfonzo worn sneakers? Now that was a surprise.
“Bring us some coffee, por favore.” Alfonzo told the Secretary.
“Si, Signore,” she replied and followed the others out of the office. Thankful, her employer’s brother arriv
ed swiftly.
The door closed. To Giuseppe it banged shut and he moaned. "Silenzio stronzo!"
Alfonzo sat, spread his legs and leaned forward. He didn’t say a word, just looked at Giuseppe without sympathy.
Giuseppe rolled his cheek on the desk, his mouth open as if he were a dog in need of water, attempting to focus on the blurry figure. “It is the Vodka. I crave what I hate.”
“Hmmm.” Alfonzo mumbled, and then peered at his hand restraints, eager to be free of the bindings. He flexed his fingers, wanting them off, but exercised patience, similar to what he practiced now with Giuseppe.
Giuseppe loosened several buttons on his shirt. The internal heat caused the liquor to emit from his pores. He heaved himself upright and flopped back to the seat, observing through blurry eyes Alfonzo quietly sitting.
Alfonzo had gone elsewhere to distract from the slovenly state of his elder brother. The place he escaped to avoid cracking Giuseppe's skull was the joyous memories inside a brownstone, with the aroma of Goya spices, music and easy laughter. The city, concrete streets, honking, and shrills of sirens piercing those intervals of silence in an environment that sings of many stories can be as calming as palm trees and beaches.
Alfonzo's mouth curled. Less than twenty minutes ago, he was engrossed in conversation with his mom. She had shared the things he missed at his cousin's engagement party, teasing him with the assortment of foods, alcapurria and renellos de papa, were only some of the Puerto Rican dishes she and Carmen prepared. He had laughed; believe it, because it was as if he was there. Yeah, he missed chilling with his roots, and carefree moments in front of the tube, in his shorts, a leg over the arm of the sofa, sipping on beer as he watched a game with friends.
Nah, he wasn't surprised by the urgent call from Giuseppe's security to hurry to the office. Apparently, Giuseppe was smashed and had Carlo there. Giuseppe must be bugging.
Thus, Alfonzo sat there engulfed in Giuseppe’s problems, pissed that he was unable to share his concern about Selange with the fucking lush and he’d interrupted at an inopportune time when he’d been at ease with his mom and daughter.
The Secretary entered, handed Alfonzo a cup of coffee and broke his reverie. The other mug she sat in front of Giuseppe before leaving.
