Atavus (9 page)

Alfonzo went around to the rear, lifting the trunk to access a laptop there. He sent a message to the pilot before erasing the hard drive. He had several hidden spots similar to this one in case of emergencies. Once utilized he never used them again. He tucked the laptop under his arm, and returned to his vehicle.

“Get me to the airport in one piece German,” he said as he returned to the plush interior and put the laptop on the floor.

“Yes sir!”

Alfonzo rested his head. He’d call Selange before boarding. These emergencies upset him most. The concern for members of the family didn’t stop because he resided in another country. If Jessica told him Emilio was missing, he had a duty to respond and aid in the search.

With many of his legitimate company stocks plunging, the donations to Selange’s charity decreasing to the point where she had to ask him for money, said a lot. What’s the likelihood of even Giuseppe’s companies experiencing fines and losses to his stock portfolio?

Ever since Yosef entered the picture, the headaches mounted. Yosef was hated, although in Alfonzo’s opinion the others had a lot of nerve snubbing the guy because he wore a yarmulke. They were all criminals, involved in rackets, from insurance fraud to slinging dope. Alfonzo wasn’t exempt; everything he did wasn’t legal, especially premeditated murder. 

Alfonzo wasn’t convinced Yosef was the reason for the insurgency. Many despised him too. Frankly, some member’s true colors had begun to show. Using Yosef as a smokescreen to tighten the screws for access to his legitimate holdings could be the ploy.

Someone or a collective group chose to send a message through an economic strangulation. At this rate if the losses continued he would have to utilize cash reserves to keep the family afloat, which he didn’t want to do or cooperate with the drug lords and open his gates. He had firsthand knowledge about the ruthless drug game from the street level. The feds were always looking to bring down the top suppliers and distributors. The lower level dudes, were used to rat out the big honchos and those at the top were quick to utilize firepower to eliminate rivals. He’d gotten out the game. That’s a decision he made right before Uncle Al’s murder. To go in now, damn, was like going backwards in time but on a white powder mountain, wearing a crown.

He had to think about his family. The pressure had nearly backed him to the wall.

Luzo’s blood money sat in secured banks all over the world. He didn’t want to rely on his dad, not even in death did he want to admit that he might need his dad’s help.

Alfonzo frowned. The situation with Emilio could be nothing. However, in light of all the uncertainties, he could sleep easier once assured Emilio’s disappearance was unrelated to the mafia drama.

Chapter Six

Nicole heard Giuseppe’s rude shouting. She swiveled on the polished piano bench. Giuseppe had entered the auditorium, striding past aisles of plush velvet seats toward the stage, where she and Harold stood, their discussion cut short by his entry.

He hadn’t reached the last row before his vocal chords released a bass that boomed acoustically. “Is that Harold, bella?”

Harold’s eyebrow rose in examination of the approaching Sicilian. The attire the strapping native wore was very expensive, but the price did not overshadow the rugged handsomeness of the wearer’s impressive physique. Nicole had informed him of her recent marriage; however, she hadn’t revealed the identity of the groom. The ruling mafia families in Italy are well known. The fashionable ones are celebrities. Giuseppe Dichenzo resided in the top tier. The Dichenzo family stayed low-key but the latest assassination attempt put them in the spotlight again. How lucky for Nicole.

“Yes, I am Harold,” he said, determined to stand his ground.

Giuseppe sized up the person. He had an elbow on the side of the piano, confident and suave. He wore his hair coiffed in a stylish variation on the pompadour. Harold’s of the world, prep and primps in mirrors, go to salons and speak with superior airs until smacked to inferior status.

Giuseppe stepped up without using the stair to join them on stage. He dwarfed Harold in height and girth. Is it fair to put a beef jerky alongside a sausage? That is what Nicole asked herself, silently hoping Giuseppe chilled.

“We do not need your managerial services any further, grazie,” Giuseppe said without thought of his wife.

Harold glanced at his client. “Nicole we have a contract, is this true?”

“I am speaking, address me!” Giuseppe bellowed.

The quiet men in Giuseppe’s entourage were shadows inching closer to the stage with severe expressions.

Harold found himself in a quandary, Nicole was his highest income-producing client and to lose her without a verbal attempt to keep her was cowardice at best.

“Then, I say to you with all due respect Signore –“

“Don Dichenzo, Harold is how you will address me, capisce?”

Harold cleared his throat. The egotistical bully was not the sort of person he ever imagined Nicole would find spousal material. “Don Dichenzo, marriage does not sever a business contract. Nicole’s lawyer reviewed the terms and she entered the agreement fully informed of the consequences if it is unjustly breached.”

“Consequences?” Giuseppe took a step closer to Harold who immediately went erect.

“Yes. I can sue her and she will be unable to perform anywhere until the courts settle the matter.  That may take years, you understand?”

Nicole exhaled; she couldn’t believe Giuseppe was showing his ass. See, people stereotype black people but Giuseppe was a perfect example that anybody can act the damn fool. She noticed his fingers twitch.

Oh my goodness, please don’t let this fool hit Harold
!

“Giuseppe, can I talk to you in private for a minute?” she said in sweetness rather than a sour tone.

Giuseppe looked around the unoccupied auditorium over the heads of his bodyguards. “This is as private as a cemetery, bella.”

“Harold, I apologize for my husband’s outburst,” she quickly said to decrease the rising tension within her husband. She hoped Giuseppe took the hint and piped his big ass down.

He didn’t. Actually, his anger escalated. The tempestuous Giuseppe that lurked on the edge of impatience flared. “Never apologize to anyone on my behalf or speak in my defense donna, capisce?”

“Wait a minute! I do not care if you are her husband, you cannot speak to her that way!” Harold exclaimed with the bravado of a champion.

Nicole’s eyes widened, damn Harold, I had this, she thought but it was too late for Harold to offer a retraction. She grabbed for Giuseppe’s arm, but a minor flex popped loose her unsecured hold. He bolted with a step the short distance where Harold stood, seized him effortlessly and dropped him head first into the piano case. Strings snapped and the screech was Harold’s voice to music as Giuseppe used the wooden lid to beat at his legs as if they were clothes sticking out of a suitcase.

“Cazzo cagna!” Giuseppe roared.

Harold shouted for help, only Nicole answered with an incredulous. “Look at your ghetto ass Geo. Exactly what the hell are you doing?”

Giuseppe slammed the painted cover shut for good measure. The fucking cazzo had the audacity to threaten a Don. He slid a hand to his waist and unclipped his gun.

At the sight of the weapon, his wife’s fury showed. “You want to kill something, well you have, my career. I hope you’re satisfied!”

She stormed off the stage, her shoes click clacking her rage. The weapon returned to the holster and Giuseppe jumped down in pursuit. “Get the cazzo out of there!” Giuseppe ordered a guard as Nicole pushed through the auditorium doors.

Had he gone too far, he wondered, but the idiota asked for punishment, did he not?

Giuseppe grumbled. She is mad; she looks sexy when she is angry. He snickered while he admired her shapely apple bottom. Then he panicked, he should not make Nicole upset, stress may cause a miscarriage.

Nicole suddenly halted in the lobby, spun around catching Giuseppe by surprise and slapped his face with more force than a woman should have. “Wipe that damn smirk off your face, you’re not funny!”

Had he chuckled too loud, he wondered?

Chapter Seven

“Babe, what did I say? No means no! Aldonza cannot go to a friend’s house
after
school. I don’t give a shit if her friend’s father is Mahatma Gandhi, MLK or Buddha himself, she’s on lock down for sassing Anita, remember? She’s letting loose on the waterworks because she’s trying to break you down. Come on now babe, you know the tactic she’s trying to employ, divide and conquer is the mess kids pull all the time. Be strong until I arrive home to block that manipulator of our love, comprende mami?”

Alfonzo stared at the twinkle of lights over the downtown businesses in Bayamón. Emilio often hung out around this area. It was
the
happening spot for local college students. A weekday didn’t deter the young partygoers out looking for a good time. Stress relief from exams, asshole professors and academic rules find cures among peers in dancehalls to hump away the ‘I Don't Wanna Grow-Up’ blues. They missed classes or attended in their pajamas because at the end of the day, they probably weren’t footing the bill for tuition. To be young is supposed to be about fun and studying is seriously boring.

His wife said something during his distraction by a group of raucous chicas in tight dresses passing. He saw the base of their asses when they walked by the tinted windows of the car. Young Alfonzo may have climbed out to ask, “Where are you chicas heading looking that fine?” The mature dude that appreciated a sexy woman replied to the lady he married. “Amor, we have discussed this and that’s it, she can’t get away with the mess she’s been doing anymore.”

Alfonzo’s eyes trailed the swaying backsides of the female barracudas. The people who thought they were the hunters didn’t have a chance of outsmarting a hunter on the prowl.

There were moments he wished he could reverse time to save his Uncle and Selange’s mom. The empty person who fucked for fun had found a stimulating relationship. The bad hand he was dealt was made good by Selange.

“Okay honey; don’t get yourself bent out of shape, I won’t give in. Hurry home, stay safe because I’m in need of my penile pacifier. I miss it bad.”

Alfonzo chuckled. “Ah man, si bébé,”

“Hey, I’m sending you a video to inspire a hasty return. My period’s over.”

“I can’t wait,” he said before he received the video notification followed by Selange’s, “Bye honey, enjoy the peep show.”

He opened the video and shook his head laughing like a horny kid. “Oooh damn!”

He scratched his chin while smiling. There she goes; pulling the stunts that had his dick flipping. In the video, the vixen wore his blue designer suit jacket and a silk tie he recognized from the pattern as the one he wore on their first date.

Yes, he did. 

By the background image, he knew the filming location, the bathroom with the Romanesque sunken tub. She lay on her side, staring into the lens, nude beneath his jacket, stroking her breasts and lip-syncing to a song. He glanced up, checking the bodyguards had their attention on the club doors. If they spotted Emilio, they'd alert him, Alfonzo was certain.

He grinned when his eyes returned to the screen. Selange’s attempt at porn made him smile. She masturbated and he was jealous his dick couldn’t be in the action.

Yep, this is soft porn and he intimately knew the star. Her video depicted erotic behavior intended to cause sexual excitement and she succeeded.

Damn…damn….damn babe you’ve met your objective!

     He cupped the bulge between his thighs, coaxing it down as Selange charmed the snake with her actions and song.

“
You don't need a lot of money…Honey you don't have to play no games…All I need is all your loving…”

He watched her fingers descend over her navel. She had that smile with a corner dimple that he loved, taunting him from a distance. Alfonzo experienced a wave of heat. He roasted in the suit, and loosened his tie as the sweat gathered on the collar of his shirt. “Turn up the air-conditioning!” he said, completely aware the cool air wouldn’t douse the flames of sexual desire.

Does that chica have on my watch?

Yes, the fuck she did.

The watch became a prop. She removed it from her arm, slightly parted her legs to slide it over her opening.

Her lips moved. “
To get the blood rushing through my vein…

I wanna say we're going steady…Like it's 1954. No, it doesn't have to be forever…Just as long as I'm the name on your tattooed heart…
”

Alfonzo coughed to conceal the grunt of want when Selange kissed his timepiece, and held the strap with her teeth to massage her thighs with both hands. She opened them as the music played to display her vaginal lips as she slowly massaged her clit, moaning in pleasure, holding firm to his damn watch and not him.

He slumped back perspiring so bad he swore he was in hell.

“…
You don't need to worry about making me crazy 'cause I'm way past that…and so just call me, if you want me –‘cause you got me and I'll show you how much I wanna be on your tattooed heart
…”

The seduction had him in bed with a virgin again. He had experienced such heat that day when she admitted he was her first. The girl who put her trust in him had become his wife. In his eyes, she was more beautiful than the stars. 

She didn’t need to worry. She was tattooed on more than his heart. Whatever force held them together was one strong sonovabitch because even when he tried he was unable to break the grip.

Yeah, babe, oooh chica, damn –this video’s hot, aye!

The video ended with her blowing the screen a kiss and then that laugh that excited his bones. He experienced desperation to return home. He missed her, and that’s crazy because he hadn’t been gone long.

Alfonzo hadn’t heard the Capo call his name until he repeated. “Senore Diaz, I think that’s him!”

Alfonzo tucked away his phone and opened the car door. He was eager to have a distraction from the intense throbbing. His skin remained shimmery though, that’s the potency of his wife’s video.

Emilio walked, chest out, a proud Latino balancing the heat from a Latina on his shoulders. Thankfully, he was alone or Alfonzo might have pummeled him for giving Jessica a scare while he fucked around.

Emilio noticed Alfonzo. He was hard to miss with that stride, jet-black hair and those brilliant blues peering from golden skin. A man of contrasting hues, encased in tailored suits.

Explanations flowed from Emilio’s mouth. “I was going home Alfonzo, I swear. I just took a break from Jessica. She’s…she’s…acting like a…”

“A handful,” Alfonzo finished Emilio’s sentence because if the word ‘bitch’ had escaped he’d have socked Emilio in the mouth. “Get the fuck in the car!” he ordered Emilio who had a sheepish look. The guy could never play poker. He babbled, which wasn’t good and Alfonzo sneered. “Shut up unless you want to be bitch slapped!”

In the backseat, Emilio slid down, defeated. “I can’t stay with Jess, it’s not working out.”

“And running off is how you tell her pendejo?”

Liquor was on Emilio’s breath. “I didn’t know how to break it to her. I just can’t deal with the fussing. I love her, I do, but I don’t think she’s going to change her bad attitude.” He rubbed at the stress on his face, but it didn’t go away. “I don’t want to stick around for years to find out either.”