by S. W. Frank
Nah, he wasn’t letting that happen. Besides, she was too young for sex education. Hell, he’d yet to have the talk with Sal, but he would soon.
Selange smirked. “Happy Anniversary honey.”
“Yes it is,” he replied as Anita began cutting the cake. In a conspiratorial tone he told his naughty wife, “You’re paying for this big-time nena. Esta noche tu culo es mío!”
Sal presented his dad with a large slice of cake and Alfonzo dug in chuckling when Selange’s ass didn’t budge until he gave her clearance. Yeah he looked forward to making the sexy troublemaker pay!
CHAPTER TWO
Shanda marched through the foyer clutching yet another vase of flowers. “This mess has to stop!” she said as she looked around for a space to place Giuseppe’s lame attempt at wooing her back into his trap. What the hell didn’t he understand? They were done, she wasn’t taking him back, he hadn’t changed and flowers wouldn’t blind her to that fact.
Surprisingly, Sophie hadn’t tried to influence her decision and had made her stay the equivalent of home. She actually loved living in a large house with domestic help and the freedom to do what she enjoyed.
Sophie and Amelda doted on Carlo and most of the time he was in their care as Shanda baked to fill the orders growing by the week. Sophie’s connections threw open doors Shanda could not have entered without her assistance. The wonderful thing about doing what you love is the reward comes from within. Besides Carlo, she had something she created and nobody could steal her joy, not even Giuseppe. He could send hundreds of flowers crawl and beg and she still wouldn’t take him back. She had enough of men walking all over her heart. Neither Giuseppe’s money nor his pitiful pleas would convince her to compromise her dignity. Alfonzo respected and adored Selange. Their relationship had gone through turmoil and they were tighter than ever. That’s what she wanted from a man. Anything less was called settling.
Mafioso…Don…hell not even the King of France was worth adapting that ‘maybe he’ll change’ mentality which afflicted many women. Yes, she loved Giuseppe, but she loved herself more. Single mom; nothing’s wrong with that, besides Don Giuseppe Dichenzo aka Geo the God could see his children any time he wanted. She’d never run off with his kids. Anyway, she found her calling, baking and making money. Yes, S&S had become a success.
Shanda plopped the floral arrangement on the table and ran to answer her cell. The device was atop a cushion on the sofa, waiting for her to plunk down for a much needed break. “Hey Selange,” she said excitedly. “Are you here yet?”
“Yes, I’ll be there in an hour.”
“Cool. I can’t wait until you taste my new recipe. I got inspired by honey.”
Selange laughed. “Honey…really?”
“You’re always calling Alfonzo your honey. So I named a treat Miele di Sela. In Italian it means Sela’s Honey.”
“Wow, a pastry…named after me…thanks that’s a first. I’ll take whatever I can get.” Selange paused. “I don’t need to taste it though; I already know it’ll be delicious because you’re talented in the kitchen.”
“Yeah.” Shanda chuckled and then teased. “Betty Crocker you’re not. Somebody had to cook when we had those sleepovers. How in the hell does someone burn pancakes?”
Selange laughed. She hadn’t taken offense. “I acknowledge my shortcomings Shanda. I never said I was perfect, did I?”
“No girl, you never did.”
“See you soon Pastry Diva, love you.”
Shanda’s response was genuine. “I love you too.”
***
Selange motioned for the driver to pull over when she saw the bright green awning. Her Italian improved but she hadn’t mastered the language. She could decipher many of the words and hold a decent conversation though which impressed her brother-in-law, especially when he tried to talk shit and thought she didn’t understand.
This business with her brother-in-law and Shanda had become a nuisance. Alfonzo had to listen to Giuseppe whine about Shanda while Selange endured the theatrical tirades from her best friend about Giuseppe’s antics. They were exhausted being in the middle and holding the hands of stubborn people. They already had too much on their plates.
Alfonzo is who family bothered every time things weren’t going their way. Sergio and Lucia’s relationship had Matteo up in arms. That’s the type of nonsense he dealt with regularly. Then Jessica being pregnant and Alfonzo’s Aunt requesting that he lean on Emilio and force him to marry her daughter was utter silliness and compounded Alfonzo’s stress. Oh, but the whopper of the century is Maria moving in with Bruno. Her mother-in-law upped and left to live with a man in another country, which was devastating because Alfonzo was an only child and very close to his mom. Although he’d never admit the truth, Maria had spoiled his ass, yes she did.
Alfonzo played it cool, that’s what he does when he’s really pissed. Work-outs became longer; his fuse was short and at night he literally had conversations to voice his displeasure during sleep. The pretense of acceptance he displayed to everyone shattered during the quiet. But, man oh man if anybody heard the stuff he considered doing to Bruno, they’d cringe.
She had to take some of the pressure off of her husband’s shoulders, not to mention help avoid the potential disasters caused by feuding family. Duty required she now step in. That Nico was another matter, though. His secret affair with Bianca was the most disturbing simply because she’d been on both sides of the fence and having knowledge or even suspicions about his affair didn’t feel good. Her heart bled for Ari, and she didn’t want the woman to experience anymore pain.
Selange attempted to gauge whether Alfonzo was aware of Nico’s cheating during a subtle inquest and when he said, “Babe, stay the fuck out of Nico’s business, I’m serious!” She’d gotten her answer right there. Alfonzo had known all along, hadn’t he?
It was difficult sitting on her ass while Nico persisted with the duplicity because Ari had become a true friend. The worse part about the situation is Nico was also. Ah, damn, she thought what a horrible position it is standing in the middle between people you care about. Nico was doing wrong but she couldn’t do anything or she’d appear hypocritical when she and Nico were once the cause of many heartaches?
Damn Nico come to your senses and quick!
Ultimately, she had to heed her husband’s advice and stay clear of the entire affair.
However, with the business of the women she had to step outside of her shell and flex her muscles to ease discourse, at least on some matters. For the sanity of her husband and for peace at night, holding these women accountable for their behavior was the only way.
The sign read: A WOMAN’S TOUCH.
How cheesy, Selange scoffed when the bodyguard’s piled out first and then she followed. The men Alfonzo assigned to her security spoke very little English; she mostly conversed in Spanish. Rico and Lazar were their names and that’s all she wanted to know. There’s a time when she had firsthand knowledge about the guards. Where they were from, whether they had families, personal things conversation reveals. But, she possessed a caring heart and when those she’d come to see each day, share jokes and smiles were killed that heart broke with guilt. So, she stayed distant and wore thick armor to prevent penetrating trauma. If she had an option, she’d take Alfonzo and the children away from this lifestyle. They’d live on an island without fear of retribution from unseen enemies seeking their death. Oh, but there are dreams that no matter how much you wish will never come true. Alfonzo had become too powerful, too visible in the syndicate. Her husba
nd’s only option was to rule. The position bequeathed could not be returned to the deceased. Alfonzo’s father Luzo Palazzo handed his son a legacy of death. But, Selange refused to let her husband journey alone. He hadn’t chosen this path, but with dignity and fierce determination they would travel the road until aged.
Concrete Don the media nicknamed Alfonzo, as well as El Lobo Adecuado, which means The Suited Wolf. The media was very careful in their depiction of her husband. They were not stupid. Anything printed which suggested he committed any illegal acts without proof is slander. That’s a defamation lawsuit which he’d likely win!
Selange entered the shop. A chime alerted the shopkeeper to the potential customers. A woman emerged from a backroom with hands covered in clay. The smile with an exaggerated, “Buongiorno,” immediately faded at the sight of Selange.
Selange stepped forward, leaving the massive guards at the door. Her stylish coat, designed by Amelda’s House of Fashion was tailored to accentuate the statuesque woman with envious curves. Innocent is the face, soft and kind the countenance which greeted the sculptress and put her at ease. “Buongiorno, you have many lovely pieces.” Selange smiled as she looked around at the variety of life-size figures carved in marble, wood and stone. The woman was extremely talented and pretty. The voluptuous craft person appeared to enjoy keeping a certain Don warm in her spare time and that of course could not continue.
“Is there a piece you like?” The woman asked.
Selange circled a statue of a man’s penis implanted in a woman while orally pleasing another. The surrounding platform had smaller carvings of various explicit acts and she commented, “This one’s interesting.”
The woman smiled. “Sí, you have great taste.”
“What is the inspiration for this piece?” she asked.
“Decadence of a woman’s heart. The man’s wife is sexually exploring and brings another into the marital bed. She thoroughly enjoys the tryst as does her husband.”
“And which one is the wife?” Selange asked.
“The one in the missionary position.”
Selange’s brows slanted inward. “He does not respect his wife.”
The sculptor examined the beautiful woman with creamy brown skin. “But he does. It is the wife he gives his seed, no?”
Selange disagreed. “Oral sex is a very intimate act. The male’s mouth is not attached to the micio of his wife, but a third party; which I see as an open demonstration he lacks respect or does not love his woman, no?”
The shop owner became silent at the interpretation. She watched as the Capo de Tutti’s wife strolled around the spacious shop before halting in front of a mermaid with overly large breasts. “That is called the Seductress of the Sea, La Seduttrice del Mare.”
Selange had seen enough. The woman Alanda was sexually liberated; she was also very self-assured. As long as she remained in the picture, any reconciliation between Shanda and Giuseppe were slim to none. “Have you read The Cardinal's Mistress by Benito Mussolini?”
“No,” the woman answered.
“An interesting novel published in 1929.” Selange walked to a rather sinister bust of a scowling man with horns. “And what is this called?”
“The Wrath of Man.”
Selange found the woman’s work impressive, which she would not attest aloud. As a lover of the arts and Greek Mythology she spoke her knowledge openly. “Are you familiar with the tale of Hades and Persephone?”
“Somewhat.”
“The tale in summation is Hades who ruled the underworld lacked a queen to rule with him over his large dominion. Eventually he found his wife in Persephone, although not entirely by his own accord. When Hades was out among the mortals, Eros shot one of his arrows dipped in Aphrodite’s love potion, which caused Hades to instantly fall in love with the first person he saw. This person was Persephone. Hades became enamored and had to have Persephone, so one day while she was out picking flowers Hades opened up the very earth beneath her feet and took her. Hades’ abduction of Persephone did not go without opposition. You see Persephone was the daughter of the goddess Demeter. Once Demeter realized Persephone was missing she searched for her daughter. Demeter who controlled the seasons, plants and harvest was consumed by grief. She refused to allow the crop to grow and mankind suffered. The great Zeus sought to restore balance and enlisted the help of Hermes to retrieve Persephone from the underworld.
Unfortunately, because Persephone had consumed six pomegranate seeds she could only return to Olympus for six months, but then back to the underworld with Hades she was bound the duration of the year. Some believe Persephone was unaware of the effect of eating the pomegranate seeds and was tricked into doing so. Others feel she intentionally ate the seeds. In any event, when Persephone resides in the underworld, Demeter gives bad weather to the world which we know as the seasons fall and winter.”
Alanda spied the burly men guarding the door. Her anxiety escalated. These were her only customers since opening an hour ago. The woman’s tale was intriguing, however she felt extremely uncomfortable. “And the point of this story Signora?”
Selange concluded. “Hades wasn’t entirely faithful. Not surprisingly Persephone wasn’t sympathetic towards his affairs and any mistress her husband took experienced her wrath.”
Alanda responded boldly, “Mio Geo is not married. We are consenting adults who commit no offense to a wife.”
“That is not entirely true,” Selange said with a steel gaze. The woman’s fear was as visible as a child when faced with the threat of punishment. “Perhaps you misunderstand. You are not meant to rule beside a Don. Love’s arrow struck another, yet you flaunt a stolen position. Unlike Demeter I am not a charitable mother to bring bad weather part of the season. One of the greatest offenses to Greek gods was arrogant mortals boasting equality. Therefore, I come as Hera, the wife of Zeus, goddess of women and marriage. If you are familiar with these myths then you will agree she was considered unforgiving to mortals who crossed her and extremely vengeful. Now do you understand?”
Alanda understood perfectly. “Sí.”
“Buono!” Selange smiled. “From your bio, I read you would love to stay in Marseilles for a year or more to sculpt.” Selange removed an envelope from her purse and placed it on a nearby stand. “I suggest you leave immediately.”
“And what should I tell Geo?”
“The truth is always best. You are compelled to pursue your passion for art and fearful your dreams may perish like forgone winters if you do not.” Selange’s cheeks dimpled when she smiled. “Giuseppe is practical. I’m certain he will not ask you to stay.”
Alanda stood rooted in place. Her hands shook nervously as she watched the visitor’s graceful strides toward the door. The large men with dangerous faces blended in step with the exotic foreigner. Beautiful flowers may appear innocent and harmless, yet carry a lethal poison. Alanda’s presence had become a nuisance and attracted a dangerous foe.
CHAPTER THREE
“I’m going to bed; you call me every night with the same bull-shit!” Alfonzo said sleepily and then disconnected.
Giuseppe stared at the cell. His fratellino hung-up before he had finished. How rude, he fumed and shouted, “Ay, buona notte!” But no one heard except the empty spaces in the office.
Irritable, he swung open the door and barked at the secretary who merely eyed him with patience. “Sí Signore Dichenzo,” she said when he ordered her to send another bouquet of flowers to a stubborn woman named Shanda.
Days had become weeks and the novelty of Shanda’s playing hard to get had worn off. He tried everything; candy, flowers, gifts, corny love letters of apology and now more flowers
. He growled at himself for caring so damn much. The woman owed him money dammit for vandalizing his car. His nostrils flared. Then that one married to his fratellino had called a gathering of the women which could only mean one thing; the ladies were banding together. This was not good. No, he did not like it and his stubborn fratellino refused to aid in his cause. Each time he asked the cazzo to have Selange speak to Shanda and convince her to come home, his answer was always, “We’re hands-off. That’s between you and your lady.”
“Hands-off,” Giuseppe scoffed. Then his cell rang and he answered for Alanda. “Buongiorno bella, come stai?”
“Cia bello, I am calling to tell you arrivederci.”
“Arrivederci…but where are you going?”
“I leave for France today to gain inspiration for my art.”
“Ah, vedo.”
“But if you would like me to stay…perhaps I will reconsider.”
Giuseppe frowned. He liked Alanda but his motives for her staying would only be for selfish pleasures. If France is where she needed to go for whatever reason, well au revoir! “Enjoy France Alanda. We are not committed; you will always be my sculptress. Grazie bella for your company.”
Then a sigh followed. “Sí, which I will be. Ciao bello.”
“Ciao!” he said and then slumped in his seat and swiveled around several times thinking. Alanda’s timing was suspect and he wondered if his mother had a hand in the sudden decision. Sophie Dichenzo could be very meddlesome at times. He wasn’t a fool about what really happened to Geovonna. Accidental death, che scherzo! Of course, his mother ordered her demise after her spiteful disclosure. He would have done the same to the agitator. Yes, mother and son were alike in many ways.
He turned in the chair again and again in deep hypnotic thought until Matteo’s voice interrupted his reverie. “Playing musical chairs eh mio amico?” Matteo asked from the doorway.
Giuseppe’s feet gripped the floor to stop the momentum and he faced his brother-in-law. “When did you return?”
Matteo shook watery snowflakes from his hair. “This morning.” He unbuttoned his dark wool coat and sat. “I understand I missed Alfonzo.”
