Affliction (10 page)

“
What is your business with Sophie?”

“
What do adults do when they enjoy each other’s company, they fuck don’t they?”

The callousness in which Yosef spoke
elevated an anger that refused abatement. Nico dispensed with the chit-chat and struck the bastard in the face and then hoist him in the air like a Sumo wrestler to slam him against a wall.

Yosef’s taunts were vile and the bastard needed to mind his tongue, Nico fumed as he tried to choke the life out of him.

A sudden head-butt loosened Nico’s hand from around Yosef’s neck. The crafty fighter rained several jabs into Nico’s ribs and he coughed spit.

Pissed the elder
snuck in hits, Nico seized the thick neck and flipped Yosef of his shoulder but the sonovabitch grabbed Nico likewise and caused him to stumble loaded due to extra weight.

Movement can unbalance an opponent and that’s what Nico did. He spun left and right rapidly, shoving Yosef against Sophie’s cabinets, shattering wood, and shaking walls
in an attempt to break the vice.

The brawl spilled to the dining room. Yosef’s arms remained locked tight. In a powerful spin and drop Nico smashed Yosef’s body
backward on to the solid table. Yosef received the brunt of the impact, which is what Nico wanted. The crash of heavy men made a thunderous noise, and demolished Sophie’s beautiful centerpiece to fragments. The hold on Nico’s throat finally released.

The table had broken in half and sliding to the floor were flowers, water and colorful porcelain. Nico rolled over Yosef
, landing blows on his chest along the way.

But whatever food their feeding in jail must harden inmate’s stomachs because Yosef’s abdomen remained rigid. For Nico’s troubles a
kidney punch was the answer.

Their grunts during the mayhem were muffled sounds of
disciplined soldiers in battle. The combination shots were partially deflected by the elder who proved age isn’t synonymous with weakness. He weaved Nico’s punch and twisted around with an elbow jab to Nico’s spine.

The pain sparked through nerve endings before Nico shut the sensory button in his mind
to off. He spotted a sharp piece of the vase and reached for it. He went to thrust with the makeshift weapon, but Yosef kneed him in the nuts, the low-blow officially confirmed the senior man’s quickness, but Nico grinned as he flicked his wrist and showed Yosef he wasn’t fast enough. A foot sweep from Nico sent Yosef crashing to the floor.

On his back, bruised and bleeding, the Israeli fucking laughed. “Ah, I like this work-out but
I fear
shagetz
that Sophie will have our heads.”

Nico gripped the splintered porcelain,
his emotions were closed. A joke during killing was Vincent’s M.O. He was Nicolo Serano and when he brought death, there was never a smile. The Yiddish word ‘shagetz’ had a negative connotation geared at non-Jewish men. Even lying on his tush, the arrogant bastard refused to relent.

Nico spit blood
, and tossed the jagged shard across the room. His hand slipped to his waist for a special blade to carve clean lines across the bastard’s face and then his throat. Death was on Nico’s mind; darkness was his vision.

“You do not want to kill me
. Sophie will die and I am sure you do not want that.”

Nico twirled the knife in his fingers
, he held the fallen man down with his foot. He put more weight on Yosef’s chest. “No, she’ll be fine.”

“
You are wrong. Do not risk her life for your ego. I die or go missing; Sophie’s death will be on your hands.”

Blood
dripped from Yosef’s fingers to Sophie’s polished floor. The beautiful floral arrangement that had been a centerpiece on a baleboste’s table lay strewn atop wood mixed with leaves and water.

Nico bent,
pushing the tip of the weapon to Yosef’s face. Nico flexed to thrust inward through skin when a command from Sophie spared Yosef’s life.

“
Ferma Nico! Lasciato vivere!”
she shrieked, “Put the knife down.”

C
HAPTER SEVEN

Riding in a limo with Giuseppe and Matteo talking shop during rush hour traffic is where Alfonzo found himself
. Another weekday morning in Palermo, Sicily is filled with congestion. Becoming acclimated with daily living in an environment he now considered home, wasn’t easy when palm trees and quiet is what one’s accustomed to in the morning.

The transition also included
accepting the company of others when sometimes he enjoyed being alone. He had asked the driver to turn on music, however on the ride to a business meeting, family and politics was the conversation during the commute between his brother and Matteo.

Alfonzo dozed.

Giuseppe elbowed Alfonzo awake. “Has the wife kept you up during the night?”

“
Geez, can’t a dude catch some shut-eye without you bugging him, damn?” Alfonzo asked sluggishly as he slid up.

Giuseppe ignored the complaint. “Did you not hear what Matteo said?”

Alfonzo rubbed his eyes. “No, what did I miss?”

Matteo grinned. He let Giuseppe break the news –again.

“Our cugino asked his sister to stand in as the Best
Man
.”

Alfonzo pulled a face. “So.”

“Fratellino, you would think he would ask one of us, no?”

“Sergio can do whatever he wants..”

Matteo spoke, “Sí, but this is a traditional wedding mio amico, not a circus performance.
Mia madre non piace.
”

“Your mother may not like it, but it’s not her wedding,” Alfonzo quipped.

“Speak to him. Explain our traditions,” Matteo requested.

Alfonzo
adjusted his sleeves. Matteo sat on the opposing side in his suit, tie, impeccably dressed and annoying to an equally fashionable guy. But, what separated the men were Alfonzo’s blue eyes, tanned muscular skin and his unrivaled stature.

Alfonzo’s
agitation showed. “Which ones, your family or the church?”

“Entrambi
.”

Alfonzo scoffed. “Le
ave Sergio alone Matteo. He’s marrying Lucia. Who he asks to stand beside him is his choice. That’s the only goddamn tradition I care about, comprende?”

Giuseppe laughed. “You are not pleasant today.
Now you understand Matteo, what I must deal with on a regular basis.”

“Bésame culo, hermano!” Alfonzo shot back, irritated that his brother considered him disagreeable due to his stand on the matter.

Matteo leaned forward. “Ah, Americanos. Your people spit on the traditions of others.”

“
Italians are old-fashioned,” Alfonzo retorted.

“
You want tua madre happy Alfonzo, sí?” Matteo questioned. His eyes were squints. “Of course you do. It is every son’s desire to ease the stress of mothers, especially as they age. Mia madre has ailing bones; her mind although not feeble, sometimes relives old ways. Giuseppe agrees there are traditions that for the sake of family we maintain for peaceable days, sí?”

Alfonzo cocked a brow and looked at Giuseppe. Sometimes he forgot he remained the outsider. He was not born or raised in Italy; there were many things about the people and
their culture he had yet to learn. He checked his watch and then posed a question to Giuseppe. “Do you agree?”

“Sí fratellino. Although I find Matteo a meddling ass, I side with tradition. Sergio must become familiar with the custom of Lucia’s famiglia otherwise he will bring turmoil to his wife’s fami
glia.” He grinned. “Lucia’s mama is old school Catholic as you Americanos say.”

“All right Matteo. Giuseppe will talk to Sergio and explain your antiquated customs, satisfied?”

Giuseppe gestured with his hand. “Me?”

“Since you agree with Matteo, you’re be
tter equipped for the task. I’m staying neutral,” he replied. If he said more, they wouldn’t appreciate what ran through his mind. He wasn’t ecstatic about Sergio’s shotgun wedding. Lucia already showed and everybody wasn’t blind or stuck in the dark ages. A grown woman was pregnant, big deal. Geez, all their talk of tradition didn’t mean squat. What mattered was the couple’s happiness; otherwise the money they poured on the quickie wedding would go down the drain if they weren’t.

Coño!

“Ah you cazzo, I pray that I will not need to beat Sergio in to submission.”

“Nah, you won’t,
he’ll probably ask you to take the position anyway.”

“That’s your place fratellino.”

Alfonzo disagreed. Giuseppe needed more than work to occupy his mind as he mourned. To witness love blossom when men are not seeking affection is what Sergio’s wedding represented. Shanda was gone, but life continued. This is the straw Alfonzo hoped Giuseppe grasped to assist in the oncoming days. Perhaps, he might overcome his fear of cathedrals as well.

“I can’t, I’m fine with Sergio’s choice but you guys aren’t. Therefore you
’re a good fill-in.” Alfonzo reclined with a loud yawn. Crap, he was exhausted. The kids were a handful, and moving things around the villa for his wife, on top of late hours had him beat. His eyes drooped. “Anyway, I’m allergic to pretense. Now leave me alone until we get where we’re going assholes,” he said and then took a short nap.

Giuseppe kicked Alfonzo’s foot. “We have arrived!” he shouted louder than necessary
.

The instigator
laughed at Alfonzo’s puffy eyes and the teardrop drool that dripped when he bolt upright to ask. “What…what?”

Two hours after
a cup of strong coffee, Alfonzo stood from the conference table and stretched his legs in front of the large window overlooking the piazza. He stared through glass at the old buildings filled with history as he thought about his wife. He didn’t like the drinking or the sullenness of her eyes. The strain of Shanda’s death had begun to unravel everyone around him it seemed, even Sophie didn’t appear right.

He had planned to return to Calabria, to investigate whether there was credibility to what his father wrote in his diary
but didn’t have the time. The nonsense about fulfilling promises almost half a century ago was just downright ridiculous. He considered a mini vacation with the family to Hibiscus Island or somewhere in the Caribbean Peninsula. They could use a break, even Giuseppe.

His cell rang. He reached inside his suit and took the call because he knew who it was. “Hey babe,” he said anxious to talk
after days of discourse.

“Hi, do you have a moment?”

“I do. What’s going on?”

“The house is quiet without the children.”

“That’s what happens when they attend school,” he replied softly.

“I hope they do okay here. I know we agreed the twins should
go to preschool but I’m having reservations.”

“They’ll be
fine. They have constant security. Selange, we can’t keep our kids in a cocoon.”

“I know, you’re right. I guess I’m feeling separation anxiety.”

“Listen, I’ll see you at home in a few hours and we can talk some more.”

“No, I’m good. You go back to
work; I have a conference call in a few minutes. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“It’s nice to know my voice is still wanted.”

“Al?”

“Yeah babe.” He waited. For some reason he had a feeling something else was on her mind.

“I love you,” she said.

His heart beat thunderously
. He sighed. “Te amo, tambien nena.”

“I’ll see you later.”

“Okay, I’ll see you at home very soon.”

“All right, bye.”

He put away the device and listened to the discussion at the table. Back and forth the conversation went about money, who owed what, contractual obligations, euros, deutschmarks, francs and the good old American dollar; nothing but bargains, bartering and favors. And the only thing on Alfonzo’s mind was going home to his babe.

The meeting should have ended an hour ago. Most of the deals were settled, but there’s always the lingering bull-shitter, the person who signs contracts and then seeks to find a loophole of excuses to avoid paying what they owe. Giuseppe was surprisingly subdued at this juncture. Maybe, because after they broke for lunch he ate too much and needed a nap. Alfonzo suspected he was simply tired of listening to crap.

When they reconvened in the conference room, the man who wanted an extension on a multi-million dollar loan leaned earnestly toward Giuseppe. He glanced at the pensive Capo de Tutti at his side, casually listening. He preferred to deal with Don Alfonzo, because he was more reasonable.

“Another year and I will have the balance repaid on the loan,” he said to Giuseppe, hoping Don Alfonzo intervened.