by S. W. Frank
“I don’t love you Bianca and now that I have seen the lies you profess, I am repulsed.” He buckled his snakeskin belt, thinking how she swore never to intervene in his marriage, and yet rekindling a sexual flame would have exactly that affect. The potion that rendered a horny enforcer an idiot, wore off. Unaffected by her wiles, he wondered what Magaleni received in exchange for agreeing to marry the sexy widow. “You have my blessing Bianca. Go ahead and marry Magaleni, fuck him until your heart’s content, but my son is not part of your sleazy bargain. I am his father, plain and simple. Try forbidding me to see Alexandros or go anywhere without my knowledge and I’ll slit your throat.”
Nico hurried away before he cut her open to expose the snakes hidden in the bowels of the venomous widow. To screw Bianca would only hammer a nail in the coffin of his marriage. Ari’s trust required he remain trustworthy. The temptation had been there, however, the duplicitous speech had served to extinguish his arousal. How dare she assume his dick ruled his heart when he found there is something greater, his love for Ari? He would be faithful to his donna, because he loved her that much.
Besides, Bianca was a nice lay, but his wife was more enticing. He jumped in the car, and activated the voice command to contact Ari while speeding off. “Hi, sweetheart,” he said when she answered on the fourth ring. “I miss you love and the kids.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“What happened, did that bitch try to seduce you?”
“No,” he replied. “She’s getting married and suggested that I allow another man to play daddy.”
Silence ensued.
“Ari?”
“I’m here. Why are you telling me this? Do you need my legal advice or a wife’s opinion?”
“Both.”
“I see. Well the lawyer says what the mother wants may not be in the best interest of the child. As the biological father, you have rights and a certain moral and fiduciary obligation to ensure you act in accordance with the child’s interest blah blah –blah. The wife says the entire situation is messy. That bitch was well aware you were married. Your horny ass fell for the damsel in distress and right into your psycho mama’s set-up. Now our children and Bianca’s are going to be confused. Bianca probably is ashamed of her skanky actions and wants to cover it up. I know this isn’t what you hoped to hear but in my opinion that hussy finally makes sense!”
“I’ll take what you’ve said under advisement, counselor-wife.”
“Do that and by the way Nico…”
“Yeah?”
“I love you very much. You asked that I trust you and I’m trying. I don’t want to be an angry wife holding shit over your head, but I swear if you sleep with that hussy again I am leaving.”
“That’s also what I figured you’d say.”
“Then why ask?”
“Because you’re my conscience and I love you to death.”
“I love you too, no if-and-or-but about it.”
“That’s contradictory. You just gave me an ultimatum when you said ‘if’ I do XY and Z.”
“Who’s the lawyer, you or me?”
Nico laughed. “I’m simply pointing out a flaw in your statement counselor.”
“Oh hush. I admit you might’ve made a formidable attorney, however that career option is closed. You fully understand though, I’m not co-signing on the open relationship anymore. We’re husband and wife, living in the same home with our children. We’re no longer the couple with double lives, perpetrating deception to throw off the law. This is real, our love is real and I expect you to adhere to our marital vows.”
“Sweetheart, I meant every word I said. There’s nothing I want more than you and our children.”
“Okay, then that’s the end of that. What’s done is done and we’re moving forward, understand?”
“Understood.”
The darkness set in as he drove through the rocky terrain, wondering had he fully paid his dues to make up for Ari’s pain. He struggled to change. Abuse as a boy and rejection from his biological mother really had messed up his head. He supposed these lapses with women were the manifestations of anger, not love. Except…he silenced his mind. The self-destructive Nico had to die.
“How was the party last night?” he asked.
“Touching. My parents gave a sweet toast to each other. It was beautiful and I nearly cried. They kissed for a long time like horny teenagers. Nico,” she chuckled, “I swear I blushed.”
Nico smiled. His eyes twinkled as he checked every corner of the roadway. “Like us, huh?”
“Nobody kisses like us.”
“I wonder if they’re still screwing.”
Ari laughed. “Hey, that’s their business.”
“Just curious if you have your mama’s horny gene, because you are a freak, but I’m sure you do. Anyway, give my princess a kiss and tell the boys they better behave.”
“Semira is kissed. The boys….well it might be too late for that. They have your troublesome gene I’m afraid.”
“Hurry home so I can show you exactly how troublesome.”
Ari had a husky laugh, sexy as all get out. “I’ll be home soon. Stay away from troublesome women.”
“Including you?”
“Bye Mr. Anaconda.”
“Ciao mi amore.”
After the conversation, he frowned. He had a decision to make, didn’t he? Allow Bianca and her future hubby to rear his son or stand his ground.
Nico increased the music. One of the boys used the car and a rock song blared over the speakers. He scoffed and considered changing it, but that opening verse spoke to his heart. He did an air guitar, and then drummed his palms on the steering wheel, rocking out like a boy as he sang along in tenor, mimicking Luciano Pavarotti. His son’s middle name took on a different meaning as he belted out the words. “I’m afraid...there might’ve been a time I would give myself away, I didn’t give a damn, but now here we are…just don’t give up, I’m working it out –please don’t give in –I won’t let you down, it’ll mess me up…need a second to breathe…it’s plain to see –baby you’re beautiful and there’s nothing wrong with you…it’s me…I’m a freak…thanks for loving me… you’re doing it perfectly…there might’ve been a time when I would let you slip away and I wouldn’t even try but I think you that you could save my –life…I won’t let you down!”
Nico relaxed in the seat with a forlorn sigh. He watched the empty road, passing trees, seeing Ari in the scenery and his children. They were saving his life unknowingly.
He experienced a strong urge to call Ari back to tell her that he’d never let her down again, just hold in there as he worked out the mess with Bianca. However, he didn’t. He wasn’t much of a talker. That was Vincent.
Chapter Three
“What is wrong bella? Why is my donna crying?”
Nicole’s brown eyes slid up to her husband’s anxious expression. He was nude, however she didn’t complain. Modesty was never one of Giuseppe’s virtues; she adored him despite this many shortcomings. The tears he thought were sadness were really joy. The unlikely Sicilian had brought wonderful gifts into her barren life with his fiery inhabitance. Mother dreams had shuttered a long time ago with the desecration of an abusive ex and doctors who gave her no hope. For almost two months, she tried to deny the possibility of this want so great, to achieve what many women did with ease. She had felt defective, half a woman and did not believe any man would want her, but the handsome and infuriatingly lovable Giuseppe Dichenzo did.
A drip upon the sink was her love showing. Every moment with him had felt like a dream but it wasn't. She had proof and despite her refusal to believe, Giuseppe and the symptoms were real. That nausea, she had choked up to bad food when traveling abroad for co
ncerts; the mood swings, she assigned to hormonal changes because thirty-nine is not too soon to experience peri-menopause.
Today, the doctor confirmed, she was having a baby. She wanted to share the news tomorrow over breakfast, but she could not lead Giuseppe to believe she was gravely ill when she wasn't. Besides, eleven fifty-eight is technically close to midnight, right.
Nicole sucked in air for courage; her fingers released the porcelain sink where her head remained bowed after retching in the mosaic bowl. She lifted her chin, but then the sickness returned violently.
Giuseppe’s arms wrapped around her waist and he spoke rapidly in Italian. He had her firmly in his clutches and reached for the faucet, turned on the water and tenderly doused her flushed cheeks with the cool liquid. “We go to the doctor, ora!” he said, ending the string of obscenities in English.
The nausea slowly passed. She leaned against the sturdy ribcage covered with taut skin. “No, I’m fine, really Geo I'm okay.”
“No you are not,” Giuseppe bellowed and effortlessly hoist her in his arms like a lady-baby, although at five seven and one hundred and fifty-six pounds she was not considered an infant by anyone’s standards –except Giuseppe.
Giuseppe carried his wife to the bed and placed her there to dress and fuss. He chastised himself aloud, talking about his donna suffering, nonsensical stuff Nicole found sweet but utterly foolish. She put an end to the rants when he grabbed his cell to phone someone, which she refused to allow. Giuseppe was far too impulsive.
Nicole patted the empty space on the bed. “Love, come sit with me for a minute. There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Cosa?” he asked irritably and then flopped reluctantly on the mattress. Her eyes sparkled with mirth. His wife chuckled but he did not find illness funny. He did not want death as a bedmate. His eyes narrowed. Santo, Nicole was lovelier than ever. “Tell me what is wrong bella.”
Nicole took his hand, wrapping slender fingers atop his large knuckles, smiling at their blessing and somewhat nervous because she hadn’t expected this good fortune and uncertain of Giuseppe's reaction. “We're pregnant.”
There was confusion in the blue eyes, followed by a tilt of the head to one side as if he misheard the words. Then awareness came like a roar of wind. “Cosa?” Nicole stroked his hair when he seized her into a tight embrace. “Are you certain…bella…cosa…is this true?”
“Yes, it’s true. We’re having a baby. I planned to tell you tomorrow, but I guess I had to tell you before you forced me to the hospital in the middle of the night.” She kissed his cheek. “In this short time, you've made me the happiest woman in the world...thank you," she whispered against his ear.
Giuseppe clutched Nicole tightly like a bear. Cristo he was the grateful one.
His breaths were ragged and swift. The tempo of his heart felt like combat boots running inside of his chest. Shiny tuffs of silken hairs moistened by anxiety dropped upon his pianist’s bosom. A warmonger could not catch his breath. He heaved atop her softness to battle with himself as he wondered what great deed had he done to receive this joyous announcement. The overwhelming happiness had caused temporary dysphagia. The family losses were too many. At times, he thought he could not have love with a woman. He had taken their affections for granted, treated them harshly, made them frightened, but he was the most fearful –commitment is terrifying to a bachelor who loves so many women.
When he had reached for a taste of one love’s bliss, she ran from a brutish man and died by his gift.
Shanda mi dispiace. I wronged you, yet you bless me with Carlo and a loving wife. You must have a seat among the saints!
A living angel combed her fingers through his hair, coddling him with endearments and a symphony of love he thought he’d never hear.
“Santo…grazie…ti amo bella…grazie amore…grazie. I am not cursed…I am not cursed. I will never let anyone harm our famiglia, on my blood, prometo!” Giuseppe croaked when his voice returned after the lump in his throat dissolved.
Nicole smiled. King Giuseppe, mafia badass just had to go and make pledges. Goodness, did he know that he couldn’t protect her from life? Nevertheless, she found it touching he’d try.
Giuseppe’s chiseled torso rose and descended excitedly. Then what hardened men rarely do, Don Giuseppe Dichenzo cried the river Nile between the valleys of orbed skin. His eyes washed away the horrific images of Kefilwe butchered open and Shanda’s lifeless body when he had wanted a new beginning. Mercy, after an eternity of sadness had smiled on a stubborn son. Upon the flesh of earth’s color Don Giuseppe took refuge –humbled he was granted a second chance through Nicole.
~
“Since when have you recommended doing nothing Nico?” Alfonzo asked, staring at the corner pocket to gauge an approximate distance and right angle for his shot.
His biceps flexed when he strolled alongside the pool table, sliding his fingers on the neck of the cue stick’s lacquered wood, devoid of splinters. As he waited for Nico’s answer, he took a firm stance, leaned his torso over the side, his abdomen a hairsbreadth from the rim, gripped the snooker cue and with a graceful, pendulum-like motion used the right amount of force to send the balls in the pocket. Nico’s trio of balls remained untouched. The clacking sounds were loud and the rumbling beneath the felt covered base ended the game in Alfonzo’s favor.
“You’re a goddamn hustler.” Nico grunted. “I thought you said you haven’t played in years.”
Alfonzo shrugged defined shoulders. His voice was firm like his crystal blue stare. Nico waited for a specific sign that Alfonzo lied. He knew when he did. There’s a subtle telltale sign that gives him away which Nico observed over the years.
Alfonzo is human and like most people, there are outward indications when someone’s less than forthcoming. Sometimes, Alfonzo exhibits a subtle twitch of a hand or finger when he’s fibbing or extremely anxious. He also may shove that hand in his pocket to conceal the slight tremor. Nico assumed Alfonzo battled with his conscience a lot. A decent person often does. When Alfonzo’s finger didn’t flex or a hand slide in the slacks, not to cup his balls but as an act of deception, only then did Nico believe.
“I haven’t. I just hate losing.” Alfonzo said after he put the pool stick in a slot on the wall before rolling down his sleeves.
“We all lose sometime, accept the reality kid.”
“The reality is there's certain things I refuse to part with old fart.”
Nico scoffed. Alfonzo was too darn serious, and the times he appeared relaxed were when he danced and in the company of his family. A lot of weight rested on his shoulders, Nico understood that, however going after Meroni and the Peglesi’s people or any of the other crime bosses’ associates made for slaughters longer than a child’s Christmas list. They didn’t have the means, nor was it wise to have affiliates view the Giacanti’s as tyrannical Mafiosi.
No, there were alternative ways to deal with insurgents. Make an example of the most obnoxious of the opposition. Choose someone many of the families despised but were too shit-ass afraid to eliminate and that’s how messages of intimidation is sent without a major fallout. Secretly, they’ll praise the action.
“Visconti likes money, if he wants to meet with you, go and grease his palm a little to appease our ‘Nhandrangheta brothers.” Nico suggested.
“Grease isn’t enough. He requires oil tankers. Visconti’s full of himself. He’s entrenched in the scourge of cocaine flooding the coast. The Colombians and Mexican Cartels turned to him after Costra Nostra’s members received a more lucrative investment without the hindrances of supply and distribution. World markets are a bettor's orgasm with the right people inside. There's near certainty, you won't suffer a bullet or have DEA running through your home and frightening family. Visconti doesn’t understand there are other ways of making money. The associates
who listened reaped the benefits of a steady cash flow on that last insurance racket. They’re aware I can put my money where my mouth is. They sleep better knowing their families are no longer subjects of drug raids that hold stiffer sentences.” Alfonzo waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve heard Visconti’s complaints that I fail to utilize my ports for his trafficking, and he’s right, that’s something I can’t allow because it invites drug enforcement back into all of our houses. I don’t want to sit through more of the same whining. Besides, I’m not jumping every time he rings.”
Nico frowned. “Somebody’s manipulating your finances. I haven’t pinpointed the source yet. That’s a whole lot of money to buy allegiance. Hand lotion doesn’t cost that much. Until I confirm he’s not behind what’s going on, I’ll feel him out and then proceed with the suitcase offering.”
“Nah, take the money, all of it. I don’t want that snake’s cut in my home. Give it to another greedy motherfucker instead. Say it is my appreciation for him remaining neutral in any movement against the Giacanti’s and his loyalty to my father.”
Nico reminded Alfonzo of the potential backlash. “You understand Visconti’s old school. He might take offense that you’re sending me.”
Alfonzo laughed. “Shit, I take offense if he isn’t aware you’re my cousin by now. A matter-of-fact, he should feel honored I’m sending Nicolo Serano, the eldest of the Giacanti’s. Two old men can sit and pop mess together. You should enjoy the company of the elderly more and stop trying to pretend you’re a young man.” Alfonzo laughed.
Nico smirked. “All right, keep digging for jokes. I’m not that much older than you.”
Alfonzo observed the physically fit man with admiration. Nico managed to stay in shape almost effortlessly. He didn’t have an exercise regimen, what he did have is a weakness for cannoli. Alfonzo wondered whether regular physical combat was the secret to Nico’s apparent fitness or good genes.
Alfonzo returned to the topic of business. “Visconti’s one issue but what about the other headache, huh?”
“Have a La Cupola to meet with the leaders to reaffirm your position of unity and just like Visconti, offer a boon of some kind.” Nico advised.
