Animus (17 page)

Giuseppe put his forehead to her buxom. “Grazie that is all that matters.”

He raised his face and smiled. “I think it is time for you to leave Lucia Peglesi before Matteo comes here with his guns to kill me.”

“Ah, he is your friend. He is angry now but Matteo is upset with you often and soon calms.”

Lucia’s bottom began to heat his flesh and he set her upright to her feet. He could never return there with Lucia. His love for her had changed. She felt more like a sister. “Grazie for the granita. I must go out.”

There was a hint of disappointment. “Sí, of course. Ciao!”

“Ciao bella.”

~ ~

Giuseppe surprised his mother and appeared at her home, freshly shaven and dressed in his finest suit. She smiled and kissed his cheeks, happy to see him up early. She often came to his house after ten o’clock to cook, clean and wash. He told her many times during his recuperation it was not necessary, but she is Sicilian. They’re stubborn.

The medicated fog had finally exited his system. His mind grew sharper, the Giuseppe who craved food, wine and sex returned. Except, last night he had considered ringing Alanda, but then decided to sleep alone and then this morning, another opportunity arose with Lucia and he passed on a really good fuck. Unheard of!

He put the coffee cup to his mouth watching his mother flitting about the kitchen. The cook was also present and she pushed pastries in front of the hulking figure leaning over the counter. “Eat, we have missed you,” the cook said.

The old woman had always been the second mother in the house. “Grazie,” Giuseppe smiled.

“Today, Amelda and I are going to Fredorio’s, is there something you would like?” his mother asked.

Fredorio’s is a pastry shop in Catania that Giuseppe frequented often. “No mama. I am fine.”

“Perhaps, you will come. A nice drive is relaxing, sí?”

“No mama, enjoy the day with Amelda. I have come to tell you I must visit my son. I leave this morning.”

Sophie pursed her lips. Giuseppe had not wasted any time. The yearning must have grown very strong. She finally nodded. “You must do what is in your heart.”

He sipped
the hot espresso. For two days he could not think of anything but his son and Shanda. The conflict raging inside was whether to let her go with the child. Fear made her flee, and some part of him understood. She wanted to protect their son. Sitting helplessly in a church when her baby faced danger, must have frightened Shanda to death. He did not blame her, yet he could not remain patient. She had not called and he grew anxious.

He finished the brew, hugged his mama and the cook and exited his childhood home. His father would not sit idle, Carlo Dichenzo would act. Giuseppe heeded the advice of his father. “Remove obstructions which hinder movement. There is nothing worse to one’s dignity figlio than to do nothing when faced with a challenge. Never pretend it is not there. When you wake, it exists; when you sleep it sleeps waiting for you to wake. That is the nature of problems, they travel wherever you go. Rid yourself of it, capisce?”

A stern driver stood rigid as he held open the car door. Giuseppe’s Capo slid next to him once his shoes touched the floor. Another soldati took the passenger space. Guns and men is what he needed to bring his son home. First he would give his donna a choice. One hour, he’d play the gentleman and if she did not willingly agree to accompany him with the baby, then he’d take the child by force.

Alfonzo had neutralized the troublesome father, his career in law enforcement ended in disgrace. In the organization there were rules, many he broke and remade. But, there are some rules which serve to protect the families. Shanda’s father being a major figure in the American police department
working with the feds was a problem Alfonzo eradicated, which Giuseppe now believed Alfonzo did to ensure Giuseppe’s allegiance was never questioned. Genius, his fratellino.

Love is famiglia
!

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Saturday afternoon on a Brooklyn street with beautiful weather is an active place. People leaned on cement railings painted the color of brick, chatting with friends in front of neat brownstones with rollers in their hair. Behind doors, peering out windows with decorative bars from uniformed enclosures were the elderly, frightened by crime and prisoners of fortresses they considered home.

Too bad they didn’t have moats.

Two sleek black cars pulled to the curb, one slid in an empty space outside the former Deputy Commissioner’s place and the other double parked. The couple arguing nearby hadn’t noticed. Their altercation escalated just as Giuseppe emerged wearing a stylish black fedora which concealed the bandage.

“Fuck you bitch!” The man shouted at the woman.

Giuseppe didn’t take another step. His blue eyes looked around. There were children at play, riding their colorful bicycles and laughing. They had not heard, but Giuseppe did. Behind the brown door with the gold kick plate was his son forced to hear such vulgarity.

The
man spotted Giuseppe glaring in his direction. These weren’t DT’s suited in those fine threads with other bad-ass looking dudes, also well-dressed. The one in the hat looked the meanest. And yes, at over six feet and broad, quite intimidating. He wondered if they were looking for the person responsible for killing that mobster a few days ago. The man was stabbed multiple times in the heart and rumors circulated the person who committed the crime was Spanish or a light-skinned black. He grabbed his girl’s arm and she yanked loose. “I said, I’m not going!”

“Bitch stop making a scene and come your ass on!”

Giuseppe’s feet automatically traveled in their direction flanked by his guys. “Do not disrespect the woman. I do not like your mouth,” he said to the adult wearing oversize clothing and sneakers.

The charcoal face below the du-rag sneered. “Mind your fucking business,
son
!”

Ah, it is the language of the street. The kind Sergio used when talking to a Don. Respect of a person doesn’t require much, a hostile tone and calling a stranger
‘son’ is offensive. He taught Sergio the manner in which to address him and the street filth using profanity toward his lady had yet to learn. Giuseppe’s fist slammed into the face. The pretentious roughneck spurt blood tinged spittle. “Wha’ the fuck?”

Another fist closed the lip and the third put him face-down on the ground. The children on bikes had stopped and pointed as they laughed. The woman grimaced because Shakhil had a reputation in the ‘hood. Everybody was intimidated by him, except this
sharply attired dude.

Shakhil was ordered by Giuseppe to leave the block and if he came back, he’d receive a bullet in his mouth. Then, he wasted no more time with trash and walked casually away.
His finger pressed the bell to the brownstone, aware of the stares at his back. The door opened and the lovely woman from the hospital stood there, Shanda’s mother. “Buongiorno, I am here to see Shanda, Signora Johnson.”

Animosity is the welcoming a loving father received. “She’s not here!”

“Then I will see my son.”

“He’s not here, either,” Mrs. Johnson lied.

Suddenly, a child cried. Giuseppe’s eyes narrowed. “Is that Carlo?”

“No…no…that’s my other grandson,” was the panicked reply.

Giuseppe was not a fool. Shanda’s brother as he recalled had an older child. Funny, his memory lapses came and went, yet he could recall everything about Shanda. His hand palmed the top of the door and pressed to push to see for himself, but he did not need to enter under force because a voice said, “Mom let him in.”

Shanda came into view. Her hair had grown; the sultry brown eyes appeared like flickering lights. Although, she hadn’t smiled, he detected her joy. Mrs. Johnson stepped away from the entry in defeat and the hulking figure stepped inside. There in the corner of the room, a blue playpen with colorful child things is where Carlo
rolled.

“Buongiorno Shanda,” Giuseppe said cautiously. He did not want to splinter an already fragile situation.

Shanda hiccupped a silent cry of relief. She had gone out of her mind with worry and longed to undo her horrible mistake. She should not have gone, she realized this when she looked at Giuseppe’s face. He was being strong, always rock and granite, when underneath the mortar he was a loving man. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Really?” he asked sarcastically, “then show me gladness with your lips.”

“Shanda, this man is no good. You know that. Think about your baby!” her mother shouted.

The
warning from her mother was background noise as she stared at the intent cobalt irises sucking her in. She felt confused. Giuseppe’s hand extended toward her. “I have waited patiently bella.”

“Wake up girl; he’s going to get you killed!”

Giuseppe’s irritation with the mother resulted in censuring words, “Silenzio, her life is her choice,” and then he addressed Shanda’s indecision. “It is not a prison I offer; my love is yours without walls. Here you are told what to think and that is how a jailer controls an inmate. Look to me for protection, I will die to keep you safe.”

“That’s right; you sure will and get my daughter and grandson killed ‘because you’re so arrogant and selfish!”

Shanda awakened. Goddammit, she broke the hold of a mother’s manipulations. Her head snapped up. “Mom be quiet, please just shut-up. If you love me then please stop!” Then she stepped without further hesitation into Giuseppe’s embrace. Her neck craned as his lowered and she kissed him as if her life depended on it, which was somewhat true. She loved Giuseppe and leaving with Carlo was in poor taste. Her soul nearly died from the ache.

“Mi bella, oh, I have missed you.”

She rubbed his face. “You’re not mad at me?”

“No donna you did leave my dog.”

Shanda smirked. “I didn’t want to leave you completely alone.”

“You were very considerate, grazie,” he said teasing. The arm encircling
Shanda settled and tightened around her waist. “I am your family, together is where we belong.”

S
handa didn’t fit in this place anymore. Her parent’s house in Brooklyn wasn’t home, matter-of-fact, this whole vibe felt wrong. Ugh, what idiocy caused her to believe leaving Giuseppe would solve her problems? Hell no, there’s a point she had to fight for happiness, even if it meant going against everybody she loved. But first she had to stop running. Her parents loved her, but she needed to set them straight and highlight the facts. She wasn’t a child anymore and they didn’t have to accept her choice, but if they truly loved her and Carlo, they would no longer interfere by working to turn her against his father.

Anyway, like a ratchet chick reminded her a few days ago, she formerly led the Bad Bitch Committee, long before the reality TV show.

Giuseppe was anxious to hold his son and walked to the playpen and peered at his boy. The blue eyes and big head stared knowingly up. “Aye, you have grown figlio.” He picked up Carlo, kissed the chubby cheek and blew raspberries on the distended belly until he heard a squeak. Judging by the stench the bambino –farted and did a number two.

“I’ll clean him up,” Shanda volunteered as her unhappy mother looked on.

When Shanda climbed the stairs, Giuseppe claimed a seat, crossed one leg and rested a hand on his knee. “Grazie for your hospitality Signora Johnson, but today I take mi famiglia home, capisce?”

Mrs. Johnson retreated to the kitchen where she contacted her husband. “You better hurry
home. The father’s here. Yes, he’s standing in the middle of the living room with his thugs and planning to get our little girl and grandbaby entangled in his mess again!”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Looking at files, talking shop over the phone and pretending things were fine at home is arduous. Alfonzo dictated a memo to the secretary told her to have it ready by morning then called the HRA Department to inquire about Sergio’s attendance. He was told the snot hadn’t clocked in all week. He called Sergio’s number and the prick didn’t answer. Annoyed, because he planned to go straight home, get Sal and then hit the gym instead his plans were altered to babysit.

His cell rang. Damn, it was Selange. “Holá babe, what’s up?”

“Are you coming straight home?”

“I was just about to call, something important came up.”

“Again?” She sighed, “I’m leaving my office with the twins. What if we stop over for a minute so they can say hi to dad?”

“That’s not a good idea, I’m about to leave my office now to check on one of the sites,” he lied. He ran his hand over his barbered hair. Dag, he hated the deception. “Tell you what, how about I make it up to you and the kids and we go to that um
kiddie restaurant that recently opened?”