Animosity

by S. W. Frank

  Excitement and awe flowed from Carlo’s mouth when he’d seen the various colors safely explode to life in the glass like a lava lamp.

  Then Alfonzo frowned, his chest beat hard at the memory of the thunderous pounding of the walls during a visit to Giuseppe’s house, which awakened Carlo from his slumber. The frightened boy wasn’t old enough to understand that the sounds were his parents making love –hard in the next room. He cradled the toddler, protectively as if he’d been his child. That day he let Carlo know, if he ever needed his Uncle, he'd always be there.

  Tio Al, geez, I need him right now, Alfonzo shout inside, hoping his Uncle’s strength to stay solid for Selange during her crisis. He couldn’t neglect the kids, especially Carlo who needed a sane adult.

  The night Nicole went berserk, Carlo jumped out of his sleep at the sound of the final gunshot. Alfonzo had quickly seized him, covered his eyes and rushed him out of the room before he saw Nicole’s body.

  Kids are sponges, they hear and see more than adults believe.

  He could recall at sex-years old that horrible feeling of sitting on the stoop, watching his friends leaving their houses in nice clothes to celebrate Father’s Day. He remembered feeling as if he’d been left out of something special. What an indescribable shitty emotion it was that worsened when his mom attempted to downplay the day. She tried to fill that role, but she couldn’t. Having his dad was all he wanted. Being tucked in by his pops, chatting about stuff over breakfast and all the things he didn’t have, he gave to his children. Selange had to get well –she had to or none of their lives would be the same.

  Alfonzo’s nostrils flared. Carlo didn’t have a mom, dammit. He’d always have love from his family, but that can’t replace the sacred maternal relationship. Alfonzo hadn’t liked Shanda, but she had grown on him over the years. He tried to warn that stubborn chick to stay away from his brother, but she was hell bent on trying to imitate Selange. She didn’t listen. She had a heard head. She was dazzled by Giuseppe’s dick and money. If only she would have listened, sheesh, that damn woman would be alive today.

  “Zio, can I have gelato?”

  Alfonzo glanced at the boy as he slid into the sport car's modified California rear seat and then fastened his seatbelt.

  Sheesh, the kid could eat. “Sure,” he checked his watch, it was getting late, but what the hell, his wife was on a retreat and he didn’t want to sleep alone. He left Giuseppe a message when the schmuck didn’t answer his call and then reached out to Sophie to let her know Carlo was in his care for the night, in the event Giuseppe’s ass had a lapse in memory and thought Carlo was kidnapped.

  Finally, he started the engine, took off to locate gelato with SUV’s, and armed guards flanking his shiny Ferrari GTO.

  Chapter Eleven

  Giuseppe massaged his chin, the stubble was irritating, as annoying as Nicole’s parent’s questioning during the limo ride to the hotel. They had promptly declined his offer to stay at his home. The fact their daughter died in the home would be discomforting, he supposed. However, he was not surprised. He shared the exact sentiment.

  “Take us straight to the morgue,” Nicole’s father stated.

  “She is at the funeral home,” Giuseppe replied.

  “Did they perform an autopsy?” Nicole’s mother inquired.

  “The autopsy is done. In Sicily, efficiency and competency go hand in hand.”

  “When will the autopsy report be released?” His father-in-law inquired.

  “I will call to ask,” Giuseppe answered, bored by their novice interrogation.

  “I want a copy of the report.”

  “Certainly.”

  There was a long gap of silence as the vehicle smoothly passed quaint bistros and solid structures dating back before Columbus bumped into the coast of America.

  Nicole’s father asked, “What happened that she’d take her life? She had complications conceiving before, I know she was sad when it didn’t work out, but she always bounced back. This just doesn’t sound like our daughter. What happened and how did she get her hands on a gun? She hated guns.”

  Giuseppe yearned for a drink. He clicked his tongue as he deliberated, reciting his brother’s script without embellishments. “She suffered depression after the miscarriage. The polizei found a suicide note addressed to me. It is in their possession.”

  “Well, what did the note say?” Nicole’s Mama cried.

  “That she loves you and misses her sorella –that means sister and um...um... the loss of our bambino is devastating. She said she couldn’t go on feeling empty inside. She then asked for my forgiveness for her selfishness in leaving Carlo and I, but she urges that I find happiness again.”

  “She said that?”

  “Sí.” Giuseppe acknowledged, wondering how Alfonzo could pen such a note. The handwriting matched perfectly, even the polizei had not questioned the authenticity. He suspected, during the crisis Alfonzo sought to relay his brotherly love. Yet, Alfonzo had not suffered the loss of his Donna –two in a short span of time. If he were to lose that one, he'd likely toss himself in the grave. Giuseppe grumbled. He had yet to have such a love.

  Maybe, it was his detached recital, or that he rubbed his nose –Americans are conspiracy theorists. On the other hand, maybe it was that he checked his messages and snorted at what Alfonzo texted: CARLO IS DOING BETTER IN CASE YOU'RE CONCERNED ABOUT HIS WELFARE, which caused his in-laws to glance at one another, before talking in secret couple code.

  Then Nicole’s father demanded they view the body.

  Whatever, clues the sour jawed senior hoped to find was embalmed and sutured. Too bad, Giuseppe clucked in his mind. “The funeral home is closed, mi dispiace.”

  “We want to see our daughter or we’ll have the authorities open it!” Nicole’s mother scathingly replied.

  Giuseppe frowned, leaned to the door of the vehicle and contacted the Funeral Director. His thick eyelashes shielded the anger sparking in his irises. He spoke in a tempered tone as he ordered the Director to take his sleepy ass to the premises immediately in Sicilian and unlock the door.

  “I have called the Funeral Director, surprisingly he is still there,” Giuseppe lied when he disconnected. That shut his mother-in-law’s mouth and she hugged her husband’s arm, putting her head on his shoulder.

  Her husband however wasn’t placated. “You never answered my question about how my daughter got hold of a weapon.”

  “I have guns.”

  “Guns…you have more than one in your home around a child?”

  “Si. But, Carlo did not shoot himself.” Giuseppe scoffed; irked by the implication he was a bad parent. “Your daughter removed the weapon from the shelf in our bedroom!”

  “Are you what people claim, some two-bit mobster?” The gray haired woman challenged.

  Two-bit mobster? Giuseppe nearly choked with laughter. There was nothing small about his stature in the mafia. He waved a dismissive-jeweled hand in the air. “I am a reputable businessman. I have a permit for my weapons. My ownership is legal. They are for protection.” Then he scoffed, turned his face away from their prying eyes to gaze out the window. If he reached inside his jacket, they might wilt at the lethal automatic sitting idle in the underarm holster.

  “How’d you get that bruise on your face? Did you have a fight with Nicole –is that why she killed herself last night, because she was despondent?”

  The diplomacy he feigned slid to the side of his brain. “You question me as if you believe I caused her to kill herself.”

  “Hell yes, we’re questioning you. We’ve lost both our daughters in this country. Harold came to us after there was an incident where you stuck him in a piano, and he said you were abusive towards Nicole, too.”

  “Harold recanted that lie as I recall. How can you believe a squirrel?”

  “So you say. But, we’re getting to the bottom of this.”

  “Knock yourself out,” Giuseppe quipped, stealing a phrase he heard Sal mumble when Carlo asked if h
e wanted the last pizza. “It is a shame you have come to my beloved home to assign blame for your daughter’s decision to commit suicide. Refrain from accusatory comments that besmirch my family name.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “A request from your son-in-law after listening to a slew of insults in lieu of civil consolation since your have arrived is far from a threat. I only wonder if this is the reason my bella preferred to tour the world. I believe it is, since I can barely tolerate your presence.”

  "You have no right to say that you piece of trash."

  Giuseppe rolled his eyes. Other parents had called him worse. "Trash has made my Papa a wealthy man. I am honored to continue his business of waste collection."

  Nicole's father sneered. “What happens, you get bored with women, toss them away like waste, is that it you bastard? Didn’t your son’s mother also die young in another alleged accident?”

  Giuseppe’s temper escalated. His eyes formed angry slits. His ocular nerve jumped several times. “Tread...very carefully...old man.”

  “Are you a cold-hearted killer, Mr. Dichenzo? Did you murder our daughter?”

  The vehicle stopped outside the funeral parlor. Giuseppe gestured toward the front of the building where the Director waited. “Ask your daughter since you disbelieve the living!”

  The couple gasped, fleeing the car in disgust, yelling they were contacting the polizei.

  "Drop their luggage at the curb,” he instructed the driver, wondering if the stiffs might find the funeral parlor’s accommodations more to their liking since they were adverse to a Don's hospitality.

  “Ciao!” He waved when they nearly knocked the Director over as they fled though the open door.

  Chapter Twelve

  "Here is the report you requested Papa," Katia hissed, and dropped the spreadsheet atop the desk where her father examined his stock portfolio.

  Viyachov looked up at his daughter and then returned his attention to the documents. "Is something wrong Katia? Do you not like the idea of Ivan sharing your bedroom?" When she failed to answer after a long pause, he continued. "Father Cheznoff will arrive in an hour to formalize your union. I do not want my daughter considered a whore."

  Katia's jaw clenched. "Yes, Papa."

  The hardened visage never cracked. The strong lines on her Papa's jaw remained set. When his gaze surveyed her, they were as cold as stone. "You will have my grandchildren. No more of this dallying with women, do you understand?"

  "Yes, Papa."

  "Besides, a man such as Ivan will protect you and my grandchildren when I am no longer on this earth."

  "Yes, Papa."

  His eyes descended to her stomach, flat as a board. "You will come to enjoy your husband's affection. Perhaps, even begin to love his penis."

  "Papa!"

  "Is that inappropriate, to speak of a penis? I apologize that I cannot stomach your sexual perversion. In fact, Ivan will fuck the sense into you."

  Katia glared. "And you believe that is the cure? Love and choice are perverse ideas to you, eh Papa?"

  "A Viyachov is compliant to an order. One day you will thank me for making certain you did not squander these childbearing years on another cunt."

  She turned to leave. However, then she seized the moment to save Kenya from the likes of Osiko. "Giuseppe Dichenzo is widowed. Were you not incensed over murdering the person you claimed to have loved like a son, you would have sense to seize the opportunity to secure an alliance by marrying off Kenya to your powerful enemy. Monarch’s utilized similar strategies!"

  She marched to the door.

  "Katia!"

  She halted with her back to the miscreant. "Yes Papa!"

  "You have demonstrated your worth as a Viyachov." He shared a half-truth. "Soon, there will be an important meeting. Since you have shown you are obedient, you may inform Don Dichenzo that his appearance in Russia before the panel is mandatory. It is sworn that he will be unharmed."

  Katia gripped the handle. "And Osiko?"

  "He is not important. As you have pointed out, there is far more to gain by an alliance with the Sicilians. Far more."

  She turned the doorknob, and took but a step. "Yes, Papa."

  "By the way," he said before she departed. "Tell the guard to allow Kenya to bathe and have the cook prepare regular meals for her. You have earned a kindness for your sister."

  "Yes, Papa."

  She slipped through the door, panting in disgust once she reached the privacy of the corridor. She was no longer in the company of foulness.

  'You are wrong. I am not your daughter, you evil bastard!' She seethed angrily as she scurried through the hall to direct the guard as told.

  "Hold on Kenya," she whispered. "Please, stay alive. Please my sister. I will save you."

  She turned the corner and collided with Ivan. The contact was like hitting iron.

  "What were you saying?" he asked.

  "Papa has told me we are to be married this afternoon."

  "I know." He gave a mocking smile as he cupped her breasts in his rough hands and then bent to kiss her. "Umm, you are delicious. We will have our honeymoon in Switzerland. Would you like this?" he asked with a wicked grin.

  "I prefer to remain here."

  "What you prefer is not always what is best for you," he quipped. "We will leave tonight. I wish to have good news for your Papa soon." He slid his hands between her thighs, rubbing her intimately beneath her dress. “I believe I have come to enjoy this idea of marriage.” His eyes narrowed. “You are mine Katia and after our vows you will find I can be kind when I am pleased.”

  He released her and she could feel the vibrations as he marched toward Viyachov’s office.

  She quivered.

  Kenya would not suffer further cruelty was the joy she clung to. In time she, would have vengeance on the Bratva.

  The arrogant Ivan would also learn, the power a woman can have over a man.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Hey honey, how was your day?” Selange asked Alfonzo when she finally hit him up on the phone.

  He kicked off his sneakers near the door and carried Carlo upstairs to bed. “Long but good, y tú?” he answered, as he dropped Carlo beside Vincent and removed his loafers, smiling at his ice cream mustache.

  Then Carlo picked his nose in his sleep and Alfonzo grimaced.

  “I missed you guys.”

  The house was quiet, strange for nobody to be moving around, especially the adults. He figured everybody hit the sack early because it was only eleven p.m. Alfonzo stood, kissed the boys’ heads and then went to do the same to Angelina. He grinned because she hugged Semira as if the girl was her stuffed animal. He even placed a quick peck on Semira’s cheek, as well before exiting the bedroom.

  “Nothing’s right when you aren’t around.” He admitted. “It’s chaotic.”

  She chuckled softly.

  When he checked on Sal, he found the twins sprawled out on the circular rug, snoring loudly and the light on. Sal’s arm hung limply over the side of the bed and his finger hovered above his cellular. He likely conked out with it in his hand. Alfonzo spotted the boxes of sneakers and scoffed. The kid should’ve bought a belt for his damn pants. However, he wasn’t mad, nah; he remembered doing worse at Sal’s age.

  Sal must’ve sensed his presence. One eye popped open. “G'night dad.”

  Alfonzo karate chopped his chest, mouthing. “Ti amo hijo, buenos noche.” Then he depressed the light switch. Alfonzo continued his conversation in the corridor. “Manana, I’m coming to get you babe. Nico is taking the kids for a part of the summer. I figure we can leave for New York tomorrow afternoon. I pulled strings for us to meet with the head oncologist and surgeon at LIJ. I want you good for your birthday, I have big plans.”

  “But Nico? The Nico married to Ari that can barely tolerate her own children is taking our kids. ”

  “Yep. He and Ari asked and I said heck yeah.” Alfonzo walked slowly toward the master suite, hating to enter the
darkened place without her presence. He had his wife on the phone, but that wasn’t the same as touching her skin. “You okay with that?”

  “I don’t know Al; I don’t think Ari can handle that many children. We’ll have to pay Anita a fortune, but I’d feel better if she went along.”

  “I’m diez steps ahead of you.” He laughed, when she didn’t. “Ah, you didn’t catch the joke Mama –Diaz.”

  “I caught it, I’m still trying to figure out what you had to bribe Anita with to get her to go anywhere with Ari. She isn’t fond of that woman.”

  “I’m not telling.”

  “Oh snap, don’t then. But, I can see you now, smiling and shit, suave, sexy employer with deep pockets, flirting with a senior by saying, ‘come on Anita Mami, do this one thing para mi and I’ll take care of you –real good.’ That’s probably why she agreed. She envisioned herself thirty years younger making love to you.”

  “You aint right, you’re taking this conversation to a sublevel.” He blushed, leaning on the wall beneath the dim glow of the recessed lighting, enjoying the easy flow, the sound of her relaxed voice and the peace that comes with a loving vibe. “Nah though, what I said was –Anita if you can go and supervise the kids for two weeks while they’re in Ari’s care I’ll appreciate it.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  “You're lying. It couldn't have been so easy.”

  “Neither is being away from you.”

  “You know they have male BJ toys. Maybe, I’ll purchase one for your birthday to try whenever we’re apart.”

  He put a hand to his crotch. “There’s not a toy in the world that compares to the real thing.”

  “You’d have to sample it first to make that declaration.”

  “Nah –nah why would I sample fake when I can have the real thing? Nah, that aint for me babe.”

  “You’re getting hard aren’t you?”

  “From the second I heard you speak.”

  She chuckled, and smoothly changed the subject. “Did Allie pack enough clothes for a trip?”

  “Yes and she knows to be ready. I wish you were here today babe, man –oh man, Allie has her cycle and she went on and on about needing menstruation clothes, next thing I know I’m buying this and that. Tell me on the real tip; is there such a thing as menstruation clothes?”