by S. W. Frank
He then had an unofficial sit-down with an insider in the Mayor’s office. The residency requirement for NYPD uniformed officers was finally amended. Beginning January of next year, the candidate selection process gave priority to applicants who had permanent residences in the five boroughs. The surrounding counties of Nassau, Suffolk and Westchester would get placed on the wait-list. The changes were small and progression isn’t immediate in politics, a little force is sometimes required in lieu of a bribe.
The coffee shops, galleries and boutiques tucked inside mortar and stone with polished glass windows displayed the reflection of three men, walking shoulder to shoulder with determinate strides. They crossed Second Avenue toward First and walked along Sixtieth Street’s immaculate brownstones.
Lou moved ahead of his boss, scanned the street and scurried up a flight of stairs to the front door of one of the nice buildings and rang the bell. The door opened and the men entered. Inside the beautiful foyer, an expensive painting hung above a polished antique table and at their feet was the finest marble. Old money existed here. The understated elegance is how the visitor knew. The brownstone housed a gentleman’s club and not the seedy kind. This is where a politically ambitious person without scruples met to seek favor from a Don and then went to a private room for sexual entertainment.
The high heels clicking across the floor belonged to the owner, a statuesque brunette with augmented breasts and an extremely pale complexion which could be seen clearly at night. She addressed her guest, “Welcome, this way.”
She did not use his name because names were not allowed. The trio followed the woman to a private room with high back leather seats and a matching couch, except one of the men took up post outside the door.
Lou nodded when the woman gestured to the seats, but he did not sit, instead he checked the rooms for bugs when the woman went out. Satisfied he spoke, “All clear boss.”
His boss nodded, sat down and crossed his leg. He didn’t wait long for a distinguished man to enter. He’d been frisked outside and buttoned his shirt with an annoyed expression but it changed when he saw the face of a Giacanti up close. “Saluti Don Alfonzo. Thank you for seeing me.”
Alfonzo nodded. Josef Timpico was the former President of the Central European Bank and once held a governor’s position at the Bank of Italy. His credentials were impressive. With a PhD from Harvard and Master’s in Political Science, it didn’t require psychic abilities to ascertain he’d seek political office someday.
Alfonzo gestured to a seat. “Mister Timpico, what can I do for you?”
Josef claimed a chair. “It is what we can do for each other.”
Alfonzo reclined and listened. Long story short, scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours, but this favor consisted of influencing the families to forego the illegal practice of collecting ‘pizzo’ from business owners. Alfonzo did not reply to this bold request. He allowed the wishful thinker to explain exactly why he should consider the proposition. What the man suggested would alienate his loyal colleagues. Josef’s campaign platform centered on anti-organized crime initiatives. Legitimate businesses and people adverse to the mafia’s dominance were his largest supporters. So far, he was leading in the polls. Asking for an audience with Alfonzo was a risky move and very bold. But, Alfonzo listened out of curiosity. He wanted to hear what Josef thought he could offer an already powerful man. The answer soon came and Alfonzo weighed the risk versus the reward.
CHAPTER TWO
Giuseppe drummed his fingers impatiently on the desk. Before him sat the head of the Schifani family, an old man with grey hairs and an overgrown mustache in need of an urgent trim. The long nasal hairs and the unruly strands peering from his ears was a major distraction. Giuseppe wondered why the man’s wife didn’t take clippers to the unsightly overgrowth when he slept. It would be a sign she cared about her spouse, in which case she didn’t.
Giuseppe tapped a rhythm in an effort to drown the sorrowful woes filtering in the air from the senior citizen. The badly groomed elder could flood rivers with his excuses. Giuseppe’s problems were far more important. A pregnant runaway possibly carrying his bambino eluded him and last night his chance of a pleasurable sleep with Alanda was interrupted. Toss in a delayed departure to Bayamón and he could overflow the ocean with his own misery.
These were the times he missed Alberti. His uncle was far more patient with simpletons. Giuseppe on the other-hand inherited his papa’s short temper and blue eyes from his biological father and nothing else. Alfonzo acquired the patience that Giuseppe lacked.
Giuseppe sat listening with indifference as Schifani rattled on. His silence continued while he observed the nervous younger man standing behind Schifani’s chair. Paolo Nitti was Schifani’ s incompetent son-in-law who Giuseppe deemed responsible for the nuisance at his door. He let the old man talk in his defense, but the string of monotone excuses soon became irksome and Giuseppe leaned into the comfort of his seat under the pressing weight of the man’s stupidity.
“A third of our fleet was inoperable and was sent for repair. The delays in the scheduled pick-ups were unforeseen. Our sincere apologies Don Dichenzo.”
“Can you apologize to every person in Caltanissetta for the stench?”
Schifani went silent.
“You were given sub-contractual rights to the area and you sully the Dichenzo name! Tell me Signore Schifani, what would you do to an employee if you were in my shoes?”
“Don Dichenzo,” Paolo interjected, “we have crews out today. We will clean and fumigate the bins for the businesses affected. We do not seek to offend.”
Giuseppe observed Schifani’s nose twitch as if an irritable booger tickled the unruly hairs. The men actually expected leniency for the infraction, however, this was his father’s business and the Dichenzo reputation was at stake. The complaints from shopkeepers were too many to ignore and some had begun to protest by burning trash in the streets last night. Giuseppe sent his underling to formally speak with the business owners, waive their bill for the month and rerouted the Dichenzo trucks to handle the mess.
Giuseppe addressed Paolo, “Then you wasted fuel and manpower Paolo. The matter was cleaned last night. You do not seek to offend, yet you have offended me by speaking!”
Paolo flushed red. To receive summons by Giuseppe Dichenzo was never a good sign. He feared the family’s loss of income. Without the contract, their company would go out of business. But, Giuseppe Dichenzo cared little about the plight of others, unlike his father who gave clemency to long-time workers for acts beyond their control. Paolo nodded, “Perdonarmi.”
“Schifani you are to pay retribution to the owners in the amount of five thousand euros with a formal apology.”
The angry eighty year old man leaped out of his chair. “Questo è assurdo!”
The senior citizen moved very swiftly for someone his age and Giuseppe was thoroughly impressed. Unfortunately, advanced maturity wasn’t grounds for a waiver and Giuseppe made that very clear. “What’s absurd Signore Schifani is your response. I expected a show of gratitude.” Giuseppe gestured to his Capo, “Have someone escort Signore Schifani to the bank and ensure the payment is made.” He glared at Paolo, “And for taking liberties Paolo, I will appoint a more qualified person in charge of the fleet operations. You will accompany the workers in future trash collections until I am satisfied you are competent to resume a management position. Sometimes you must sniff shit to appreciate the smell of roses!”
****
Her hand rubbed the firm round contours of her belly awed at the creation growing stronger and larger each day. Giuseppe’s baby. Thinking about Giuseppe caused a desolate sigh. A beautiful beginning was marred by an abrupt and hostile end. There’s no doubt she carried his child. Selange suggested DNA, but Shanda hadn’t fucked anybody in weeks before her romp with the Sicilian. Initially, they used condoms. Um-hum, they fucked through her small stash of ice and flavored ones during mating and then, like a fool she didn’t use spermicide with her diaphragm. She might have contracted an STD; instead the result of her dumb-ass decision had been this unexpected gift.
She considered Giuseppe the best lay she ever had, too bad outside the bedroom he was a callous sonovabitch. If her father’s occupation frightened him away, then he could kiss her ass. The prick put her in a cab and had the audacity to put a wad of money in her hand like she was a trick and said, “Ciao bella.”
“Ciao bella, what the fuck does that mean anyway, hello, good-bye, what?” She grimaced while thinking about Giuseppe’s smugness. The look on his face when she threw the money out the window and flipped him the bird had her grinning from ear to ear.
How you like that, you piece of shit?
Anyway, she didn’t need him in her child’s life. She needed someone willing to stand toe-to-toe with her dad and fight for his woman.
Ugh, you weren’t his woman, girl. You were a one-night stand and likely one of many.
She continued rubbing her stomach; it had a strong calming effect. There’s no reason to get upset, forget it, she always wanted children. If she thought about it, raising children didn’t require a man. Many single women did it all the time. The glass half-full perspective actually worked.
Here, in the global village of Puerto Plata, she found a nice villa in Sosua Hills which she purchased outright with cash to avoid the mortgage application process and credit checks. She had assumed a respectable name and bogus ID with her photo that said Leslie Warren. The people here didn’t pry into your business and ask a billion questions. When the realtor asked what her occupation was, she lied and said she was a writer and he didn’t pry any further.
Well, she figured if the novel ‘How Stella Got Her Groove Back,’ was based loosely on an author’s experience while on vacation, shit there’s a possibility someday Shanda might actually write a book, except the real life ending wouldn’t be the island love she later married was actually gay!
Shanda's face scrunched in disgust, “Ah, man, that's really some low-down shit, right Gee?”
Gee didn’t answer. The spoiled dog remained sleeping.
“Lazy butt.” She said to her only companion and looked out at the picturesque landscape. The place soothed away the tension and it’s what she needed during pregnancy. No drama, no stress.
She had her dog, met a few nice people and had begun to think of the Dominican Republic as home. Initially, assimilation into the laid back environment and its friendly people required an adjustment. Brooklynite’s aren’t accustomed to pleasantries from strangers. It took an attitude renovation to accept the niceties. She retired the Brooklyn armor and went with the flow.
Clad in a teeny bikini, the evidence of her condition was on full display. As she massaged the hilly mound, the baby kicked in response this time and she laughed, “Okay, cool it. You aren’t hungry. I know because I’ve eaten like a lumberjack today. No more food. You take after papa because I usually don’t eat like this, you hear me in there?”
Shanda pushed her shades up and chuckled. The navel ring reminded her of the pre-Shanda body. She’d eventually have it back, but for now she basked in the miracle of motherhood. The hideous maternity clothes worn by some for comfort, though, she refused to wear. Oh hell no!
She decided to go for a swim. Submerged to her neck in the water, her skin instantly cooled by at least fifteen degrees. “Aaaahhh, this is nice.”
Her thoughts drifted to her best friend and she frowned. The image of Selange’s crest-fallen face caused guilt. She wanted to tell Selange the truth but when she spotted the FBI, she bolted. The bond between friends went beyond blood; they were spiritual sisters, and she’d keep it that way.
There’s a lot she hadn’t told Selange. Eversince, Selange married Alfonzo, her parents pestered Shanda to cut the ties with her friend solely because they didn’t like who she married. How could they ask such a thing?
On the day she arranged to be at Selange’s side for the birth of the twins, her dad caught wind of it and used his clout to have her removed from the plane. The underhanded tactic employed against his daughter proved he only cared about his stupid job. Of course she lied when she agreed to wear the wire; it’s the only way to get him off her back and say good-bye to Selange. She never intended to go through with the subterfuge. Never!
She sighed, and waded through the water and it cleared her mind. She dipped her head in to cool her scalp. She removed the weave and wore her hair short in shiny curls which showcased her pretty face. Somehow, changing her appearance had a liberating effect. Everything about independent living gave nourishment to a new spirit and she loved it!
She prayed the receptionist at the clinic remembered to mail those letters when she got to New York. The letters were important. Her parents wouldn’t stop the search unless they had assurance she hadn’t come to any harm. They were informed of her displeasure with their meddling and the setting of rules for an adult woman, but hadn’t paid heed to anything she said.
They hadn’t interfered with any relationships with her other acquaintances and it hurt they singled out Selange when she was the best of them all.
Over-bearing parents and one in law enforcement tend to lecture, enforce rules and not listen to their children until something goes wrong. Anyway, in her letter addressed to her parents, she gave them a transcribed eyeful. Boy did she!
She laid it out in plain English her emotional truth. They’d have their written confirmation; she split because of what her father had done and their over-bearing behavior. The poke at her father and his law enforcement friends were certain to halt their search. She documented in unequivocal terms that asking her to spy on a friend was a trust violation and they lost her respect because it’s evident they didn’t respect her!
Let the feds find another fucking stool pigeon!
It’s the letter addressed to Selange which she found the hardest to write. In the note, she explained the reason for the abrupt departure and disclosed everything she learned. The only part she omitted was her father standing front and center with the feds in her apartment. Although, she despised what he did, she understood his warped sense of justice included trying to protect his daughter. Once she mentioned her father sought to coerce her into wearing the wire by using Selange’s children, he’d become a marked man. Shanda wasn’t stupid, Alfonzo would have her father killed and she couldn’t live with being the person who signed the execution order!
CHAPTER THREE
The caterers were busy in the kitchen, a small group of set designers turned the Diaz property into an outdoor dream on a beautiful Saturday morning. Maria fussed with the caterers, complaining the food choice was not representative of the blended heritages. “It’s too Italian.”
“But the bride-to-be chose the menu.” The frazzled head chef answered as she wav
ed at one of the staff who ogled the multi-tiered cake with miniature gold balls back to work, “Diana, vamanos!”
Maria persisted, “Sí, I understand, but we must add a few Puerto Rican dishes, she will not mind.” She scoot close to the woman and gave her a run-down of some of her son’s favorite dishes.
The children ran through the kitchen and Maria shouted for them to stop running and to quiet down. She pat the woman’s shoulder, “Make sure you get it perfect.”
“Sí, senora.”
“And do not forget, only a pinch of pepper in the carne guisada, comprende?
“Sí.”
“And do not overcook the cuchifrito; my son does not like it overly done.”
“Sí, senora,” the Chef said stiffly as she hurried about the spacious kitchen, peering over the shoulders of her staff.
Maria nodded and departed and the Chef rolled her eyes, glad the meddlesome woman had gone and she could return to work. Cooking fine cuisine was her business and not homemade dishes saturated with greases and swine. But, the interloper was the groom’s mother and these were very powerful people. In order to avoid finding her catering company blacklisted or worse, she tapped one of her staff and assigned her to make Maria’s uninspiring dishes.
The Chef glanced at the figure against the wall when his hand rotated slightly to peer at his wristwatch and then from narrow slits he resumed observation of the workers. The disciplined soldier’s silence and immobility had caused her to temporarily forget his presence. Armed men like these were posted everywhere on the estate. It served as a reminder of the Diaz’ importance and notorious reputation.
Sí, the request of the groom’s mother was not debatable and must be honored.
****
“We can’t stay in bed the entire morning, hun. You’ll eventually have to let me up.”
Alfonzo’s lip curled in opposition to Selange’s statement. They were laying together, hip to waist, and he wasn’t in a hurry to go anywhere, not even on this festive day. The heat from her body served as a blanket and felt very soft. “Not yet.” He said, clutching her tighter and then brushing aside her hair to plant a lingering kiss on the nape of her neck. “I’m comfy.”
