by S. W. Frank
This thing of ours…the translation of La Costra Nostra was only one secret famiglia, there were many including, La Protezione.
Chapter Sixteen
Giuseppe bolted from the auto, across the tarmac, moving hurriedly and felt the air brushing his rough cheeks from the invisible currents. The stairwell was down for him to climb without holding onto the railing although they were steep. His bulk shook the jet floor during his entrance.
He passed the cockpit door, going right to the cabin where the fellas and Harold waited in their seats. Looking at the sap, he felt nothing but anger and was glad the bruises were below his face.
The greeting he gave wasn’t a word but hard knuckles to the stomach. “Vaffanculo!” Giuseppe shouted before striking the piteous figure again. “You idiota write these things about la moglie and think you will not suffer?”
Harold couldn’t talk back. The injuries weren’t the reason; he’d learned to keep his mouth shut.
Giuseppe grabbed him up by the throat, tossing to what should be a comfortable seat, but the impact hurt. Harold slumped there, head against the window, exhausted from being a human punching bag.
“Clean your face,” Giuseppe said tossing the man his handkerchief and then retrieved his cell. “I am calling my wife, capisce?”
Harold wiped the perspiration and spittle from his skin, nodding profusely.
“You will smile and tell her you were drinking when you posted the childish rant. However, you apologize and have issued a retraction to that effect.”
Harold sniffed. The blood taste in his throat was gross.
“Get him water!”
The guard did Giuseppe’s bidding, passing Harold the finest bottled water he’d ever seen or maybe thirst makes any liquid appear glorious. He unscrewed the cap with shaky fingers and gulped loudly like a dog.
“You will also say you came to personally apologize but she was not here and you and I have civilly discussed her career.” Giuseppe glared. “You will remain her manager if that is what she wants and you were assured I will not interfere in her career decisions. Do you understand what I have said cazzo?”
“Yes…yes.” Harold quivered.
“You are to say what I have told you and we will show my bella how civil we are, sharing drinks and smiles. You must say I am also generous enough to fly you anywhere you want to go for your troubles. We will re-enact that skit. Your performance and ad-lib must remain top-notch. Un errore e farò tagliare fuori la lingua!”
The last statement was made with a sinister scowl and Harold guessed it wasn’t good. He nodded. Anything the Don wanted him to say, he would say. Harold hoped he would be allowed to live.
“First you must go to this uh…site that you see as your friend and write that you were drinking and apologize for your stupidity attempting to joke.”
Harold’s cell was tossed to his soiled lap, where the stench of urine had mixed with ventilated oxygen. His hands quivered so bad, that he wondered if they were under attack. Once he finished, Giuseppe snatched the cell, read the message and laughed.
‘Drank 2much n swung from chandelier, then badly joked about a nice pianist n her spouse. I’m stupid n sorry. No more drink4me.’
The tweet went viral, in fact it had Harold’s phone ringing. He could not answer; he was occupied in the role of his life, directed by and co-starring Don Giuseppe Dichenzo.
Chapter Seventeen
“I vote, sí,” Gabriela said first.
The other women were quiet, contemplative and patient until their turn to vote. Missing from the meeting was boisterous Amelda who said, “Ne,” in absentia.
Adrianna appeared indifferent. She stroked the fur of her Maltese, making them wait out of pleasure, angry that Sophie refused to let her feed the dog at the table. She answered, “Ne,” out of spite to show she did not always agree with her sorella.
“I say yes,” Selange voted. Nicole should sit at the table, regardless of her perceived disinterest. The woman was married to Giuseppe and that alone should trump everything else.
Sophie agreed. Nicole was her daughter in law; la nuora had rights that Sophie sought to uphold.
All attention focused on Ari who’d break the tie. Ari pulled a face. She didn’t care either way; she only attended the ritualistic gathering to eat. The damn women took things too serious, sometimes. Last night she worked up a hearty appetite after sexing Nico when she arrived home from that long trip. They were up until four in the morning, fucking so hard she believes she called him a fucking god, that dick felt so –good.
She smacked her lips after swallowing the spicy chicken with a tangy honey that had her nearly gnawing the bone.
“So, Ari, what’s your vote?” Selange asked with confidence she’d say yes since they were friends.
“No,” Ari smirked at her. She liked observing that pretty face crest-fallen. Heck, she presented a business proposal to Selange that could bring in some big cash and she didn’t hesitate to say she‘d pass.
“Oh crap, it’s like that Ari?” Selange asked.
Ari reached her lacquer colored nails to the ornate serving tray for another delicious piece of chicken. “Sophie, grazie, this is delizioso.”
“Grazie,” Sophie replied between closed lips, upset at Ari, too.
“I can change my mind Selange.”
“I thought you said you like Nicole,” Selange said with imploring eyes.
“I do, sort of.”
“Okay, then don’t make it about anything else,” Selange challenged.
“It’s called a bargaining chip, honey. How bad do you want Nicole sitting her tush with us?”
Selange ruminated. Ari wanted her to participate in a racket she devised. Had Selange been a thief, her idea would be appealing. Sometimes, she forgot Ari was an embezzler. The woman was so good at her side craft, that Selange had begun to double check her books. She liked Ari, but damn the woman was crooked as hell.
“Not that bad.” She gave Ari a dimple smile, calling her bluff.
Ari wrinkled her nose and laughed. “We need to talk; I have this other thing I’m working on. If I say yes, would you at least listen without making those faces like Semira smelling poop?”
Everybody chuckled.
“I promise I’ll listen.”
“Okay then I change my vote to a yes and also thank Sophie for this wonderful damn chicken.”
Selange clapped. However, Nicole’s inclusion did not have an official seal of approval. Maria was the deciding factor, and she had yet to arrive.
They waited twenty minutes.
Maria finally joined the members. She appeared frazzled. Bruno’s eldest son vanished, which she did not share in her apology for her tardiness.
Her mind was on Corrado, praying for him and his family. The last correspondence Bruno received occurred days ago. Corrado stated he had a meeting with a shipper from Istanbul. His wife had not heard from him nor was he answering their frantic calls. Her distressed wife routine might be a ruse, especially since Corrado filed for divorce and his wife contested, seeking more money.
Yes, Maria had many things on her mind, including disappointment that her son and family missed the private memorial for Domingo. Alfonzo claimed he forgot, although she told him more than once.
Alfonzo is neve
r one to forget birthdays of those he loved. Maria regret she had not told Selange. Alfonzo worked long hours…ah…nonsense…he should have come…Domingo was like his brother, she ruminated.
Sad, Maria placed her hand on her rosary beads and said, “No…let the woman have peace. She should not feel obligated to be part of this…this…vida loca!”
Maria rose, collected her belongings and was perched to exit when Selange caught up with her mother-in-law in the parlor. “Mama, what’s wrong?” she asked.
Maria shook her head, hoping the tears stayed inside. “Ah, it is nothing –nada. Go back to your meeting; do not pay attention to me.”
“Mama eres los mas importante para mi; te amo con todo mi corazon,” Selange replied.
Maria smiled weakly. The usually jubilant woman’s countenance revealed a deep sadness which partially lifted hearing Selange speak a familiar language. Her daughter-in-law’s Spanish came as effortlessly as her compassion. She wanted to ask without making trouble if Alfonzo truly forgot or was there more that he had not shared. In the meeting room, the gathering of mafia women laughed and she did not care they found pleasure amongst each other. Loving Bruno gave her joy; however, she also wanted spiritual peace.
“Is my son okay?”
“As far as I know Al’s fine,” Selange answered.
“Carmen was very hurt when he did not attend Domingo’s memorial the other day.”
Oh no! Cover Al’s ass, okay stay calm. Oh, damn honey you didn’t tell me this! Selange thought.
Selange cupped her hands over Maria’s, the lie hidden behind a semblance of truth. “Oh Mama, lo siento. We wanted to be there. You know we would have come, but Al hasn’t come to terms with Domingo’s death. He doesn’t talk about how much he’s hurting. He wasn’t ready. It would have been overwhelming for him and we stayed home to pray for the dead.”
“But, he didn’t have to say he forgot as if it was an item he failed to purchase on a grocery list.”
The squeeze to Maria’s hands was hard, because she hated to speak lies to her mother-in-law. Being dishonest to someone she loved, hurt badly, because beneath her skin still existed guilt. Look, look what she had become in these years. A genuine melancholy reached her eyes. They filled because in an early chapter of her life, her lies killed.
“Ah, no, no, no mija, aye, don’t cry, por favore,” Maria exclaimed when she misread Selange’s sorrows. “Listen, forget what I have said. I know you feel awful that you did not come with the children, but you are right to stay with my son to pray on that day. Ah, mija, te amo…te amo.”
“I’m really sorry Mama; I know Al didn’t mean to hurt you or his family by not attending.”
“It is okay I understand, I do.” She gave Selange’s cheek a kiss and shooed her back to her business. She watched her lovely daughter-in-law for a moment as she strolled back down the hall. She observed like she had years ago from a kitchen the sweet beauty enter her son’s life and remain for the long haul. Her eyes had seen innocence then, today her heart was skeptic. Selange would protect her son and be a loyal wife. Perhaps Selange should have kept her lie simple. Al was in Puerto Rico, Jessica told her, looking for Emilio. Now, she suspected, there was something afoot and she would go to the source –her son for the answers.
The door opened and she nearly collided with Yosef when she turned around.
“Shalom Maria,” he said.
Her eyes had to ascend. Yosef was massive, with Giuseppe’s physique. He had the mean look, although his mouth had a grin. He was bad. The aura cannot be hidden. Sophie and he were perfect together; the wicked woman encouraged bad deeds.
“Buenos noches,” she said as she passed, looking back over her shoulder and finding Yosef watched her departing.
She shivered.
Sí, Yosef was not a good man.
Chapter Eighteen
Nico lay supine on the rug with Semira asleep on his chest. The boys were out at the mall with Anna whose stomach seemed to balloon every day. The quiet gave him an opportunity to hack into Selange’s phone. That was easy, he smirked after a second, getting a thrill that he set up these hack free devices the family carried and had unlimited access. He didn’t usually nose around, however today was different.
Semira, the cutie-pie slept. Idle, he chose to work in lieu of sleeping in the early evening. He wanted to have a word with Selange without everybody getting their panties in a twist.
He hummed softly, as he browsed her calendar, thinking about when he hacked Ari’s computer using a tilt sensor as she typed. Ah, a novice might believe that a hacker needs a microphone or camera to spy. Sophisticated techies can use a phone’s accelerometer to differentiate the tiny impacts and mathematically deduce, which keys a person stroked. Sí, Ari didn’t have a clue he knew all her passwords and where she stashed her cash.
The sensual mouth twisted to the side as he read. Selange would be at Sophie’s again on Thursday morning at ten helping Sophie ready the donation boxes. Selange was quite organized with her schedule, she also put little reminder notes attached to alarms on her cell when appointments neared. Nico hadn’t planned to peruse her private e-mails and videos, until he decided to check security features just in case a spyware had Trojan horsed its way onto her phone.
The inventions to steal information are mind-boggling. He happened to know Ari had upped her techie skills, thanks to helpful Darren.
He hadn’t let on he was wise to her craftiness, mainly due to this competitive drive to outsmart the lady. Besides, Ari’s dark side was a sexy ass turn on.
He chuckled as he recalled how she used her cell when they dined at this posh restaurant and cleaned out a rich person’s bank account. He knew the moment she suddenly claimed to want to check her messages and brandished a new Android phone. She suddenly had to use the ladies’ room, near the poor mark’s table, brandishing his contactless credit card.
Ari remotely stole the data from his credit card with that Android and he laughed so damn hard that when she returned he had man tears. The victim only needed a lead-lined wallet to prevent the radio chip from being scanned from inches away.
Most Androids have Near Field Communication (NFC) capabilities, a special scanning program that passes through a regular wallet and can steal information with radio waves from credit cards. How Ari learned, Nico would never tell.
Theft no longer requires old school pickpocketing nonsense. When people are good, there isn’t any skin contact. The hackers attending conventions enjoy showing off their manipulation of technology; Nico didn’t care to share, unless there’s reason. He always pegged braggarts as attention seekers and vanity is why many are caught.
Semira’s toddler arms clutched his chest. Her warm breath moistened his bare skin. He remained immobile when her hand, slightly larger than his ear, rubbed his rib and then went slack.
His arms were extended, cradling the device. He looked to see if her eyes were open. They remained closed and he smiled.
“Stai ascoltando il mio cuore, amore?” he whispered. “You have a little brother, Alexandros. You will meet him soon.”
Ah, how he loved his daughter, her spirit was soft unlike his. He rolled the toddler to the carpet and her arms spread out like wings as if she prepared to make an angel in the snow.
Nico flopped beside her, bringing the cell closer to his trunk when music began streaming. He moved his thumb to the edge to view the screen and recognized that was a mistake. He should have closed the erotic images then, but he didn’t. The eyes stared straight into his soul and he watched the private video feeling an emotion rising from a hidden crevice. She caressed her body, singing in a sexy husk and blood shot through cylindrical chambers and stiffened his muscles. He fought the invisible desire she summoned with the tease and didn’t win.
“Go
ddamn you girl why the fuck do you have this on your phone!” he grumbled as he drifted into her arms in his mind. Back there is where he’d gone to a night she killed his resolve.
“Let go of me,” he grunted as the phantom sensations from distant lovemaking held him prisoner. He fought the all-consuming desire; however, the memory of touching nirvana is stronger. He drifted with her body, too far within to retract and then he fought harder knowing what he stood to lose.
“Stop fucking my mind and leave!” He growled with force and expelled and explosion of liquid heat as will.
He could feel the warm stickiness spreading and clinging to his balls. His thumb swiped across the screen to wipe her from his dreams, pissed at his inability to kill her in his body. Nico frowned, berating himself for having loved her so deeply she dwelled like a squatter.
“Nico, you wanted her the moment she kissed you with kindness, you sonovabitch and you took because you could. You could’ve sent her away but instead you took advantage of a naïve woman during a nightmare moment. You were wrong, and behaved like a callous motherfucker!” He scolded the air.
He inhaled, peering down at the wet stain on his shorts, still erect, and wanting what boys conjure in their heads. Sweetness, sugary tarts and other candies that is bad for the teeth. The lie that he only loved Ari had surfaced. His unconscious response had unearthed the truth he tried to hide.
Admit it, stop the lies and confess that you will always love her, too.
Friends. That is what they were, that is what they should remain. Strange, that he had his dream and a beautiful reality side by side in friendship. He was okay with that, it was better than he deserved. He’d keep watch, remain diligent to his oaths and take deathblows for the protection of family.
He got his ass up and went for a shower in the soiled shorts, swearing he could hear Vincent laughing and saying, “Nico…Nico…Nico…lighten up and stop beating yourself up all the time. Any hot-blooded man would have had the same reaction without having fucked Selange. You did and fell in love, now that it’s over you think you’re supposed to hate her? That’s unrealistic, besides you looked at porn and got turned on; sexual excitement is the purpose of the provocative video, isn’t it?”
“Oh shut up Vin,” Nico replied.
