by S. W. Frank
“My brother has done nothing to her. Address me with your anger.” Giuseppe interjected.
Mrs. Johnson clutched her husband’s arm when he balled his fist. Her husband had a hot temper and this wasn’t the time or place for blame. She’d read the letter. Their daughter had left to be free of their meddling, and whatever reason these people were here, it wasn’t to cause Shanda harm. She wasn’t stupid; she surmised the man standing in Shanda’s hospital room was the father of her child and his rights overrode theirs. “Honey calm down. Shanda and her baby are what's important.”
“Yes, listen to your lovely wife Mr. Johnson. Her advice is wise. I do not want to upset your daughter by breaking your neck, stronzo!” Giuseppe glared.
Selange remained near the door. She had a front row seat to the great and mighty Mr. Johnson’s downfall. Alfonzo fell back and stood near his wife. He’d referee if needed but this was Giuseppe’s fight.
“Don’t touch my daughter!” Mr. Johnson warned when Giuseppe turned and walked to Shanda’s bedside when she called him over.
She looked at him with pleading eyes and he softened, “Don’t Geo. Don’t do it. He’s my dad. Good or bad, you get what I’m saying?”
He gripped Shanda’s hand. “Sí bella.”
“Get your hands off of her!”
Giuseppe smirked, “And what will you do, cut it off with your mouth?”
“You sonovabitch!”
“You are not taking her or the bambino anywhere, do you understand Mister Polizei?”
“She’s my daughter.”
“She is also the mother of my son!”
“My daughter is not your property.”
“No, she has her own mind to do as she wants. Apparently, you believe she belongs to you like chattel. So, tell me Mister Polizei, who treats her like property, you or I, stronzo?”
Mister Johnson wanted to beat the man to a pulp, “Fucker!”
Giuseppe peered at Shanda. He would give her this choice, but on the child there wasn’t any debate. If she chose to go with her parents, his son would stay with his father. He did not tell her this, instead he asked. “Do you want to return with your parents to Brooklyn, donna?”
Shanda hated to hurt them. Despite everything, she loved her parents, but her life had changed. She tasted true independence and being away from them helped her see clearly. Her father talked rules and her mother was always preoccupied with either her job or church functions or friends. They never saw Shanda. They didn’t understand, what she craved growing up was their time, yet they had none to spare.
She sighed; the ball was in her court, wasn’t it? She and Giuseppe had a lot to discuss concerning their child. They were going to need time to discover parenthood together, it was only fair. The chemistry between them was worth further exploration. She wasn’t expecting a fairytale ending, running through fields of lilies and corny shit like that into each other’s arms. Her vision of happiness was simpler, more real, a guy who loved and respected everything about Shanda. She needed a strong, confident guy who didn’t take offense to everything and scampered away when she confronted him on his bullshit. Whether that was Giuseppe or not, she’d have to see. Finally, she answered. “Mom, dad, I’m not a kid. I haven’t lived with you in years, what the heck makes you think I want to now?”
“But Shanda…”
“No dad, no but’s. I’m too tired to go through this again with you. I’m sick of hearing how you want the best for me. Just stop it.” She closed her eyes exhausted from talking and opened them again. “Either accept my choice or go home right now.”
Her father started to speak and Giuseppe stopped him, “You heard her decision, now let her rest.”
Selange grinned. The crestfallen expression on Mr. Johnson’s face was priceless. The man didn’t get it. He’d lost his little girl a long time ago.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
“Mommy, I don’t like this teacher.” Sal said as they walked the corridor toward the science lab during the Parent Teacher’s Conference.
Two weeks after the wedding and things were back to abnormal-normal as she called it. Shanda was in Palermo, Sophie was driving her insane, but she liked Amelda. Everybody likes Amelda, the woman is very cool.
Alfonzo was away on business otherwise he would be here. He apologized for missing the school meeting but she dismissed the apology. They were a team and if one was out of the commission the other stepped up to bat. So far, Sal’s teachers had nothing but wonderful accolades. But, in science his grades were slipping and she saved the worse for last. Other parents and their kids passed in the hall and her son knew most of them. A few parents gave a friendly wave to Selange and she smiled back and then addressed Sal quietly, “Exactly what don’t you like?”
Sal inhaled, “I just don’t like science anymore.”
“You once loved it. Remember the science kit dad gave you and how excited you were to view the wings of the moth on the Petri dish and when you looked at it under the microscope how stoked you were. What happened since then?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Selange’s mom antennae went up. “Did the teacher do or say anything Sal that made you stop liking her class?”
His eyes went to his feet. “If I tell you mom, swear, I mean swear you’re not going to get mad?”
She swore.
“Okay. Well my friend and I was talking and I told my friend my mom and dad got married again and then the teacher told me to stop talking. I did and later when we were changing class I heard her tell Mrs. Marquez that my mom must be an idiot if she wants to marry a man who’s a criminal.”
Selange tried not to let the shock register on her face. “Wow, that wasn’t nice.”
“No, but she’s always mean to me and not the other kids, that’s why I don’t like her.”
“Sal how long has this been going on?”
“Since she started teaching here.”
Selange took a long deep breath. This was a private school, an elite upper-middle class fucking school. She and Alfonzo paid good money for their children to have a stellar education. They contributed heftily to this fucking place and now she was so pissed her body became an oven. Every day she sent her son to school and this is what he had to endure, oh goddamn!
She faked a smile. “Well we’ve come this far Sal. We might as well go in. Hey, but don’t worry mom deals with mean people, all the time and so does dad. Remember, I got you, alright?”
“Yes.”
“The best way to deal with mean people is not to let them hurt you inside. Sometimes when you’re happy and they’re not, mean people want to make you sad. They aren’t loved.”
“I bet she doesn’t have a husband or a boyfriend.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right.”
They walked into the classroom and Selange smiled at the woman sitting behind a messy desk. She was around her mid-forties, a pleasant looking woman if not for the bad aura generating from her entire body. Selange took a seat in one of the hard chairs. “Hello, Ms. Carrera.”
“Buenos dias Senora Diaz. Hola Salvatore.”
“Hello.” Sal answered reluctantly.
Selange got right down to business. “You’re rather new here aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“It’s very nice to meet you. I see by the grades Sal’s received he’s lost interest in this subject. He’s always loved science, what could have happened?”
The teacher pulled out Sal’s folder from the many on her desk, “He’s actually a very intelligent child. He scores the highest in the class. I believe his frate
rnization with other students is the reason why his grades have suffered.”
“Can I see his test results?”
The folder was handed to Selange and she read the scores. Nineties were excellent. However, there were notes, such as needs to pay more attention and half points because he didn’t number his work. This was an odd practice which drew a skeptical brow from Selange. She returned the folder, “Well, he’s doing pretty good I’d say. The grading is a bit unfair. I see you penalize a lot for lack of numbering yet he answers the questions correctly right below the numbered question. Strange.”
“He has to let me know which one he’s answering.”
“I suppose it might be a mystery if the numbers aren’t already there but that’s not the case.” Selange smiled at her son, “Sal why don’t you go in the hall with Estefan and say hi to your friends.”
Sal eagerly jumped at the chance to escape. “Okay.”
When the boy was gone Selange smiled. “I love my son to death.” She leaned forward toward the woman. “You don’t like who his parents are, and you’re penalizing him for it.”
The teacher tried to defend her grading practices and Selange decided to end the phony shit and took two random files and skimmed them. No such grading for those children existed. Frankly, there were words of encouragement scribbled on their test papers. She put the folders back and stood. “Ms. Carrera, I don’t think you want to teach here. This isn’t a good school for judgmental people. I’ll tell Sal the bad news that you’ve decided to leave. That is what you plan to do, quit, right?”
Ms. Carrera sputtered as if she truly considered protesting and when Selange slipped her shades down and faced the woman she slouched in her seat. The Diaz’ contributed heftily to the academy and there was a plaque dedicated to their generosity in the main hall to prove it. Only, big-time donors received such recognition. Selange Diaz also had a seat on the board. It was foolish to object. “I will let the principal know tomorrow.” Ms. Carrera answered.
“It’s best you hand in your resignation today. You want to give proper notice in order for the principal to have a substitute for tomorrow. Sal deserves a teacher who is fair and encourages him academically and not someone spewing hate about his parents.”
Ms. Carrera’s lips pursed tightly. She had liked teaching at the school and more importantly loved the high salary. She refused to ask the haughty mobster woman to reconsider. She would never beg. “Fine.”
“Very good. A word of advice from one teacher to another, children are innocent and we should never take out our biased opinions on them. They’re in school to gain academic knowledge which doesn’t include being singled out and made to feel worthless or discriminated against by a miserable bitch like you. You are not what these children need. The world is harsh enough and someone who spends hours with them each day should not make it worse.”
Ms. Carrera ground her teeth, and bit her tongue. What was there to say?
Selange marched from the classroom and joined Sal in the hall. He was laughing with one of his classmates. “Sal, I just found out Ms. Carrera is leaving. Isn’t that a shame?”
“Not really. I’m glad.”
****
The men shook hands. They were amicable, well-dressed and wealthy. Every one operated prosperous businesses from the textile industry to media. They were old money and acquiring new cash from joint ventures in America and Asia. This meeting was about business of a more lethal sort. This was to discuss Josef Timpico and the proposition lay at Alfonzo’s feet.
These five families, although established and not involved in the practices of ‘pizzo’ had an interest in what Alfonzo was about to say. These were the men with roots deep in Sicilian soil. Men who over the years shown an allegiance to Alfonzo in deeds privy to the few here. He considered these five men the most loyal of all the families.
He was greeted with respect, not a shake of the hand but a kiss of his ring and in turn he clasped each hand in friendship and asked them to sit.
“We meet when things are well, I take it?” One spoke as he poured a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.
“Don Abate, nothing is ever truly well in this world. Every day ambitions grow and we have such a man who had the audacity to come to me.”
“Josef Timpico.”
Alfonzo was not surprised to hear the name spoken beforehand. “Yes. You live and do business daily in Italy, what is the temperature toward my family?”
“There is great respect for the Giacanti’s despite Don Dichenzo’s occasional outbursts. The movement which supports Timpico is small businesses who see their profits dwindle with the protection money. With the rising costs of overhead, it’s understandable they seek someone who is unafraid to speak against us and promising change.”
Alfonzo listened to the men speaking. Their common sense analysis rang true. They were able to relay their thoughts without conjecture and it’s what he appreciated the most. “It’s troubling. Timpico’s timing coincides with a fall in profits due to unsubstantiated rumors for my companies.”
“Ah, but that is not Timpico’s handiwork. He’s ambitious but he has no interest in your foreign holdings. His ambitions are tied to politics in Italy. His visit was undoubtedly for that purpose only. He knows you possess influence where he does not.” Don Vecchio added matter-of-factly.
This caused Alfonzo to sit back, twisting his ring, thinking, who would benefit from the failure of his businesses?
Another spoke, “Timpico is a separate issue from your businesses. Tell us what sought from you in his appeal?”
“A temporary lift of the ‘pizzo’ and once he’s elected the families can carry-on with the practice.”
“Bull!”
Alfonzo thought the same way.
“And for this loss of revenue to many less fortunate families what is Timpico’s offer?”
Alfonzo’s eyes went to each of their faces, “My Uncle’s killer.”
The men fell silent.
“Alberti’s killer has yet to be found. Every rock and hole I’ve searched has uncovered nothing. This is strange and I wonder why.”
Abate interjected, “You wonder if it was an inside hit?”
“What other explanation is there?”
“No one knew of the secret meeting that day.”
Alfonzo disagreed, “Of course others were aware.”
“Yes, but those who did were privy because they were trusted, we did not know. Only the family was aware of the location, only your family Don Diaz.”
“Loyalty and trust go hand in hand. Sometimes those who speak least are those who listen and observe the most,” one of the five said slyly with his eyes mirrors of blue.
The pause widened.
The men sat quietly and in their silence Alfonzo listened. They were telling him to look in his own backyard. Often, this is where trouble stems. He thought of a talk he had once with his cousin Domingo after a domestic dispute. He said to Domingo, “You have shattered the children’s sanctity. The place they considered a safe-haven has been violated.”
It is true. Those you love and trust can bring the greatest harm. They are the people who exact the deepest emotional wounds. He knew this, because he suffered its blade once and the scars remained. Over time, the bloody welts slowly dissolved.
He wasn’t so generous anymore. Once cut, had been enough and there weren’t any further scars he wanted to endure.
Today he felt violated. Someone close to him had become the enemy. This threat had to be eliminated. Loyalty is what binds, blood connects but it can also pour. Alfonzo nodded. He heard the warning loud and clear. He would purge his blood and restore sanctity to his home.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Nico met Alfonzo at the airport and they walked side by side. “I heard about the trouble with Schifani, has it been resolved?”
Alfonzo nodded, “Giuseppe will return control of his business operations to his son and monitor their performance. He simply wanted a break. I checked his books and he was not lying. The repairs to the fleet set him back and reparations took another chunk out of the profits. Giuseppe agreed to a loan. For Giuseppe that’s a first.”
“Perhaps fatherhood is softening the big bastard.”
Alfonzo glanced at Nico and stopped walking before they reached the car. “What happened at the guest house that day?”
“Sergio happened.”
Alfonzo scoffed, “The man has good timing.”
“He’s a lost cause.”
This statement surprised Alfonzo. For Nico to say that meant the man lacked redemptive qualities. “You sure about that?”
“I’m not sure about anything, but when you have a thief, he is often a liar.”
“Well, I think I have to send somebody to keep an eye on him from time to time.”
“If you think that’ll help.”
Alfonzo shut his eyes as he inhaled and opened them. There was something weighing on his chest and during the flight he wrestled with it and now he had the unpleasant task of carrying it out. “Cousin, do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Are you strapped?”
“Yes.”
Alfonzo’s eyes bore through his cousin, “Nico are you loyal?”
“Yes.”
“Have you honor?”
Nico’s eyes were steel. The words evoked a memory of men sitting around a table who questioned his loyalty to Alfonzo. They said he lost honor and to reclaim it, he must perform a specific act. He carried out the task to the letter, yet honor was not restored. No man can give you honor, it is a virtue within. Unfortunately, it took longer to figure out a solution and shorter to make a mess. He acquired his honor when he stopped lying to himself. Today he could look in Alfonzo’s face and hold his head high. “I have honor.”
