Atavus

by S. W. Frank

  I’m a thug in a suit, like Jessica, I am who I am and that won’t change.

  He bobbed his head to the poetic chants of a dead rapper, reminiscing about his childhood, and the days he had love for the struggling people, and that would never change.

  He mouthed the lyrics, “I got love for my brother, but we can never go nowhere unless we share with each other…I’d like to go back when we played as kids, but we can never go back…that’s just the way…things will never be the same…you’re my brother, you’re my sister…that’s just the way it is.”

  Oh Yeah!

   

   

  Chapter Eight

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  Tony spotted a plume of smoke in the distance. Nico’s residence sat in that direction on fields that once served as a farm. The private estate had trees spread about, several clearings of manicured grass where nothing larger than a grasshopper could hide because Nico needed to view everything coming. Tony suspected Nico the techie had pen sized cameras in those trees.

  The putrid smell as he neared the entry gates were like rancid meat on a grill.

  Without a honk, the electronic gates disguised by shaved bricks separated to allow the SUV through. The rustic villa sat far back on the property, several kilometers for sprinters and a trek for someone out of shape. Everything about Nico had security written all over it. He couldn’t see the exterior of the deceptively simple worker’s shed that had a modern interior. Tony did spot the large pit off to the right flaming and Nico tossing stuff from a huge plastic bag on the fire.

  There were items on the ground by Nico’s booted feet that caught sunlight and reflected a brilliant light to the sky.

  Tony parked a short distance away, exited the car and walked to where Nico worked. “Good morning, what are you cooking, boar?”

  Nico didn’t answer. He wore angler’s gloves that stopped above the elbow. He reached in the bag, what he removed had Tony’s stomach churn and when the human meat struck the flame a cackling sound occurred.

  Nico worked in silence, tossing body parts of some poor sonovabitch on coals without a care.

  “Who was that?” Tony asked while looking at the body part charred to the bone.

  Nico added an accelerant.

  “I see you even bring work home.” Tony said, looking toward the house and wondering if his family had any inkling about Nico’s sickness.

  “Don’t mind my business.”

  “Is that all you’re going to say?”

  Nico stooped down, sifting through the personal items. Whatever he was looking for, Tony didn’t have a clue. If Nico wanted assistance, he’d ask.

  “What time is it?” Nico did ask without looking up.

  “Nearly six.”

  “Exact time, no nearly shit!” Nico hissed while examining an expensive silver timepiece encrusted with black stones fit for a fashionable male.

  Tony wondered why he needed the time when he held a watch in his hand. “Five, forty-two.”

  Nico fumbled around with the item, changing the hour, cracking the glass and then tossing it in a small bag that he added rocks and dirt to before standing. “Give me a few minutes, pull the car to the gate and wait for me there.” Nico instructed.

  Tony didn’t have a problem with that order. He didn’t want to stick around watching Nico clean his mess. He couldn’t imagine earning a living with the dead.

  Inside the vehicle, Tony shook his head. The image of a hitman in his mind mimicked the movies. The reality is there’s nothing entertaining about murdering people when you’re close to the scene.

  He drove to the gate, turned on music to clear his head from the grotesque and tried to think about something nice. Tiffany instantly came to mind and their extended honeymoon in paradise.

  “Hey, wake up. Change seats, I’m driving!” Nico said loudly.

  Tony sat forward. Hell, had he actually fallen asleep?

   

   

   

   

   

  ~

   

   

  “Did you enjoy the honeymoon?” Nico asked as he sped through the countryside with Tony strapped in, clutching the armrest as if he was on an amusement park ride.

  “Yep, sure did,” Tony answered with a crooked smile.

  Nico nodded. “The honeymoon’s always the icing on the cake.”

  Tony agreed. “Yep.”

  “Too bad you won’t get to spend a lot of time at home. There are several assignments I have for you.”

  “Care to share?”

  “One deed at a time. I’m superstitious.”

  “No, you have trust issues.”

  “Damn right.” Nico replied without moving his head. He could see peripherally, Tony’s expression change.

  “It must suck to be you.”

  “Not trusting everybody is how you stay alive. You foresee the knife before it plunges into your back”

  “Well, since you don’t trust me why am I entrusted with jobs?”

  “They’re tests to see if you can be trusted to handle the bigger ones.” Nico sped through a circular turn during a decline and skid on dirt, drifting like a hillbilly in the sticks bouncing up and down in his seat as the SUV crushed pebbles. “I’m the trainer and you have to trust me; it isn’t the other way around.”

  Nico’s statement was unsettling to Tony. “Oh, so I have to trust you, to what, not get me killed, yet you can’t trust me to divulge exactly what I’m getting into?”

  Vincent, may have laughed or said something witty, however Nico hadn’t mastered that sort of engagement. To some he may come across pensive, anti-social or a loner. He was all the above. “The more you ask what, where, when and how the more the amateur comes out and the more I question your motives for wanting to be part of my family.”

  “Oh man,” Tony responded. “I guess this mistrustful person is that way because he’s apt to step out on his lady.”

  Tony recognized he might have said more than he should, but Nico had begun really pissing him off -bad. Talking at somebody isn’t going to win over any friends. Nico probably never had a friend that much is obvious.

  The comment didn’t go over well. Nico became rigid. Even the slight curvature on the edge of his mouth went firm. Perhaps, Tony believed he had the freedom to speak a man’s transgressions and use as stones to toss. Tony wasn’t without his faults and what he thought he knew about anybody else isn’t true unless he lived through it. Nico didn’t answer to Tony or anybody for his actions. The line is crossed when malice hides in the words.

  Now Nico realized Tony thought too highly of himself. The vehicle jerked to a halt. “Are you begging for a bullet Tony?” Nico asked, swiveling his torso, staring venomously at his passenger.

  Dark ice is what Tony considered Nico. He began to question Nico’s stability. Everybody withered in Nico’s presence. Nobody stood up to him and he had grown accustomed to fearful people.

  “Are you going to shoot everybody when they say something you don’t like?”

  “Not everybody –you.”

  “Go ahead, I’m sure that will solve your dilemma,” Tony replied.

  “You know I’ve seen a person eat their foot. I’ll give you one warning. Call it belated wedding advice. Pushing my buttons can be fatal. You may find yourself gnawing off your toes.” Nico squinted. “Capisce?”

  Nico then compressed the gas as he worked the gears, racing the SUV on terrain that a less experienced driver might slow to navigate. He wanted to make up for lost time. Visconti was a stickler for punctuality, fortunately for Tony because Nico considered tossing Tony over the rocks for putting a finger inside a sore spot. Yes, he should’ve had his eyes open about his mother. It all seemed too good to be true. Nevertheless, when the heart of a man reverts to a neglected child wanti
ng maternal affection, he is blind and stupid. Sabrina used his love to deceive him into a compromising sexual relationship with Bianca. Bianca is sexy and was an enjoyable bedmate, but he never loved her. No, love is not the word.

  Ari has always been the one.

  Bianca had mastered seduction. He supposed the thumping bass of his heart is because Ari saw goodness in Selange…Ari…yes she could discern a person’s essence accurately. Selange wasn’t manipulative, Bianca on the other hand had motive in her latest attempt to get him in bed. Selange was an inexperienced girl in distress seeking comfort with the wrong man. It took a long time before Nico could discuss what happened that night and how the affair spiraled out of control afterward. Selange's actions were not conspiratorial.

  Ari had jokingly remarked, “Selange was out of her league. She was dick-whipped and googly eyed after you put that anaconda inside her grass.”

  The truth is he had been out of his league. He wasn’t accustomed to the trusting eyes of a virtuous young woman or scorching kisses of innocence. He had wanted more like a greedy whore and then didn’t want to return what he stole until Vincent’s death woke him from a delusion.

  Selange’s eyes sparkled whenever she gazed at her husband he noticed more brilliantly nowadays. She was happy; so was Alfonzo. They didn’t have to say what anyone with eyes could see was real. There’s something unbreakable about that couple and Nico would make sure they stayed that way by doing his job and removing the threats.

  He stared through the tinted glass, thinking of Vincent, believing he’d say, “You didn’t kill me. I died doing my job, protecting you and Alfonzo.”

  Nico’s nostrils flared. He really needed to speak privately with Selange.  There were always guards or family around. Nico wanted ask what she had read so far, but he needed her confidentiality when he did so.

  Selange was a smart woman, no wonder her and Ari had become thick as thieves, literally. Ari might actually be a potentially bad influence. Ari had a side only Nico fully understood.

  The SUV rolled to a stop in front of a manned cement enclosure. Nico addressed the men who suddenly surrounded their vehicle. He used the southern dialect to speak with the lead guard toting a machine gun.

  More men rushed the vehicle with guns drawn when the guard shouted, “You are not Nicolo Serano!”

  Nico exhaled. He allowed his hair to grow after the military fade and then the Mohawk phase. The trim and sharp tapered edges of his hair occurred at the skilled hands of a barber only because he wanted to surprise Ari when she arrived home. He really missed his wife and kids. He was beginning to unravel.

  Nico didn’t make any sudden movements neither did Tony. Instead, he said, “Guarda, ioindossol'anello.” He convinced the dummies by showing them his middle finger displaying the Serano crest carved on 24 carats of kiss my ass gold.

  The sputtered apology occurred forthwith.

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  Chapter Nine

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  “Amelda, what do you mean you cannot attend?” Sophie asked as Amelda entered with a rolling suitcase and Ignacio dressed for travel.

  She plopped the stylish boy who resembled Matteo in a chair opposite Yosef who had recently finished a large plate of stuffed zucchini with rice and meat, known as dolma that his wife prepared.

  “Ignacio and I will be in Paris and then I will visit Malaysia to purchase textiles,” Amelda answered, sweeping her healthy ebony hair over her shoulder as she marched to the cabinet.

  “What about Nicolo’s birthday party?” Sophie inquired, handing her grandson a slice of an orange.

  “Blame yourself mama for inviting that slut Lucia!”

  “Lucia is famiglia. The party is for Nico who we love.”

  Amelda had a dilemma; the assortment of pastries had led to indecision. She chose a baguette with cheese. “Nico will survive my absence. Besides, I am not in a celebratory mood, I mourn for my husband, remember mama my great amore? I have placed Nico’s present in your room. He always wanted one of papa’s guns.”

  “Shalom Amelda. Safe travels,” Yosef said when she sat. He stood and then circled the table to kiss Sophie’s high cheekbone. “That was delicious. I will see you this evening.”

  Sophie held on to his wrist a bit longer in an affectionate sign that she was reluctant to see him leave. She hoped his exit was not on Amelda’s account, however, she understood Yosef tended to his business during afternoon and evening hours. Sometimes he arrived home very late. “Ciao,” she replied letting her eyes follow his exit, hoping he stayed out of trouble for the sake of peace with her family.

  Yosef grumbled. If Amelda were his daughter, he’d give her a lashing for her brashness. The door had not yet shut when he overheard the rude woman say, “I cannot believe you cook this disgusting food. There is nothing kosher about it!”

  “Silenzio, have respeta Amelda!”

  Yosef hurried to his fortified car before he returned to swat Amelda’s tush, which he would do if he had children, no matter the age if they were disrespectful.

  He grumbled and started his car. He did not have chauffeured minions or bodyguards for escorts to navigate the provinces. He practiced precaution; however, in the glove compartment were his tinted glasses and several weapons.

  The men who secured his wife’s home watched as he pulled out the gate. In the rearview mirror, he saw the cell go to the mouth of a guard to report his departure to undoubtedly Giuseppe the Great. He scoffed at the idea that Giuseppe believed his self-importance affected the fearless.

  Yosef had a responsibility to fulfill and an unbreakable contract with distributors around the world.

  Outsmarting Giuseppe gave Yosef many smiles. They were on his lips when he caressed his wife and ate the best meals of his life. Ah, Sophie, the lovely and sexy woman was more than a delight. Years more he would have her, because it is always what he wanted since young. There is a pleasure in having experience to satisfy a woman in maturity. The elation of a touch has the effect of a mortar blast to the gut. The adage youth is wasted on the young must have come from an old dummy who forgot he was once a child. To envy what is past is not the wisdom acquired in seniority. Yosef could reflect to his minor years and see that maturity is far more beneficial than an ignorant mind.

  He took a turn at a thicket of trees, and then a left for a less traveled road that would lead to the coast. The arrival of special cargo at six required his presence. The escorts were men who would serve as his personal bodyguards. A former cellmate’s son Eisbär traveled among them on a yacht. He chuckled, certain that Eisbär would ensure the men did not deface his property.

  The lodging and connections supplied by cohorts were in place.  He arranged everything right under Giuseppe’s nostrils. Besides, Giuseppe was distracted with his family.

  Yosef smiled. Mafiya power is not limited to Italia. Having Eisbär to converse in Yiddish was like having family to share in Yom Kippur.

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

  Chapter Ten

   

   

   

   

   

   

  Giuseppe returned home from work after hearing Harold had made a comment to an alleged assault via the social networks that many use as their personal TMI networks. Truly, who is so bored that he will care someone ate at a rest
aurant, and the nature of the meal? Aye, these maddening people would tell the feds and other strangers where to find them on the loo.

  Harold the worm went into seclusion somewhere in America, but Giuseppe would find him, it was only a matter of time.

  In the meantime, he made reservations, arranged for a sitter for Carlo and hurried through the house calling his donna’s name. “Nicole, mi amore, where are you?”

  He swiftly crossed the floor to peer into the cucina and then hurried to the den where she sat with her back to the door talking on her cell. “Tiff, I’ll call you later.”

  She didn’t turn around, instead she crossed her arms and reclined.

  Giuseppe entered, walked to the sofa and peered down. His voice was gruff, that tone is from birth and shouting at adult idiots. “Buongiorno.”

  “Um, glad you’re able to go about your life without a care in the world after yesterday and my cancelled performance.”

  He spread his legs to balance as he deliberated the weight of each word. “Harold is not dead, neither is your career. I will make him retract what he said, capisce?”

  Nicole’s stubborn chin tilted. She soaked in the image of her handsome husband. Giuseppe was very good –looking but when she looked closer; he was really bad and spoiled. Yes, she accepted his thuggish mannerisms and brusqueness because she saw deeper than he believed. He was accustomed to barking and everybody moving out of his way. Giuseppe’s stature alone intimidated people, add in his well-deserved fucked up reputation and ‘voila’ you have the stereotypical mafia asshole. She hated to leave, but her anger wouldn’t allow her to stay until he corrected his mistake. Maybe, his mother should have taken a belt to his bottom. Sophie was too soft on Giuseppe.

  “I’m taking Carlo to visit my parents for a few days. My cousin’s daughter is turning three and I think Carlo will enjoy being around other children.”

  Giuseppe blinked. “Cosa?”

  She stood. “I’ve already packed a few things and I wanted to wait for you to come home before we left.”

  Giuseppe panicked. The distress flashed in his eyes. “No, you cannot go…you will not leave!”

  Nicole stood her ground. It killed her inside to hurt him; however, Giuseppe had to learn there were consequences in a marriage when a husband seeks to control his wife’s life as if she didn’t have a mind of her own. Years of low paying gigs, being away from her family for days, sometimes months to travel or perform with lesser-known orchestras is how she finally achieved a measure of success as a musician and a reputable manager. That career she built, Giuseppe trampled under those big feet without a care.