Alfonzo (9 page)

“Shut the fuck-up or I’ll do you right here,
maricon!”
Alfonzo countered.

A
n
officer interceded, “Knock it off!”

Alfonzo silently mouthed, “
I’ll see you outside bitch!”

Jay looked away still hugging his girl. The threat lingered in the air.
Alfonzo’s
countenance
softened,
a conscious attempt at sensitivity.
Tonight, he suffered a loss, too. He looked around uncomfortably as the sobs continued,
his
face frozen in solemnity.
Dammit, please stop crying.

Alfonzo
grieved
,
except his tears were hidden beneath the anger reserved for a solitary release. Tonight he had to be strong and get through the hours without losing it. Currently, this girl needed a shoulder to cry on.
Earlier
,
on
the phone she
plead
ed
for his help.
It was inexplicable the
proximity of her friends
,
yet here she
was grieving
alone
.
He relaxed his stance
to help her upright,
guided her head to his chest
in consolation
. He
gently caressed her spine
as she cried and screamed in such heartbreaking agony he stiffened at
her
display of raw pain.

He heard the wheels passing and turned with her in his arms and understood the depth of her sorrow.
Going by
were the bodies being wheeled atop a gurney in those ominous body
bags.
It’s hard seeing something like this
,
especially when you know the people in them.

“
Oh
God
…
oh
…
God
…
mommy
…
mommy
!
”
She
went
berserk, clutching
at his shirt
,
squeez
ing
his wrists and
wailing so damn hard, Alfonzo almost broke down, too. But he stayed composed, chin raised in defiance. He couldn’t crack again, he had to stay solid,
he
told himself. The girl flailing in his arms needed strength and he’d give it to her, so he did. He held her tight, preventing her from falling or purs
u
ing the
technicians
and w
hen the elevator opened then clang shut
and the bodies were gone,
she
suddenly
slumped against him in eerie silence.

“I
t’s okay…
it’ll be okay…
I got
you
chica
.” He whispered into
her
fruity hair.

“This isn’t real…I’m in a nightmare,” She whimpered
over and over again.

Her friend came over and spoke her name, “Selange…please come home with me. I can’t stay here…I can’t.”

The girl Selange didn’t answer
, instead
she clung tightly to the solid mass until her friend exclaimed, “I have to go…when you’re ready I’ll be
at my house
waiting.”

Alfonzo’s lip curled in distaste when
the
so-called
‘
girlfriend
’
and the scumbag Jay departed.
They exchanged lethal stares until the elevator closed.
Some goddamn friends!
His boys would never have stepped off. Even the
chicas
, they’d stay right here, holding him down, providing the comfort of their presence. Yeah, that’s goddamn
friends;
they roll with you to the end!

He wrapped his arm
s
around the girl then guided her to the elevator. He couldn’t let her stay here in this condition. Apparently
,
she was still in shock
.
Holding her
protectively he spoke her name, “Selange…my name’s Alfonzo. Your mother and my uncle were married
and it
makes us family,
eschuchar
?”

She slowly nodded.

A
n
innate
natural feeling occurred as he held her.
He was confused by what this young woman triggered
. W
hatever it was stirred an arousal somewhere i
n his gut
at
this
deadly
hour. He forced it away
,
thinking only of the task of telling his mom the tragic
news of her brother’s death. Absently
,
he stroked
the long wavy hair
as the elevator descended to the lobby
. He thought of life without uncle and what it entailed. No late night conversations or uncle’s wise advice. He tried to envision
it, and
could not. The image of Uncle Al and his wife were
too real. They were
dark pictures
preventing him from thinking about tomorrow. He didn’t want to remember
uncle
Al
in such a
macabre
way and clicked the channel in his brain as if he were watching a show he disliked
. I
nstead
he
chose one he did. A happy image
appeared on the screen. A vision of
Uncle getting married, smiling ecstatically after kissing his new bride. Yes, this he liked and used it as
a
replacement
for the hideous death
scene. He
bound it to memory in an effort to
get through
each
m
inute and the
infinite ones to follow.

They stepped into the lobby
. T
hrough the grimy
windows of the vestibule
he caught sight of
a
crowd assembled
.
Police, ambulance, curious onlookers and a news crew
waited
. A normal sight in the inner city on any given day or night. Detective Johnson said there were no signs of forced entry which led him to believe the murderer might
even be standing out there.
A faceless entity
.
A
n evil cruel bastard who stole a piece of him and this girl
…his Uncle’s stepdaughter Selange
with
the
violent act.
Suddenly
,
Selange
shivered
despite the warmth of the
summer
night and he
drew her closer, wanting desperately to console the piteous thing. He couldn’t imagine how awful it was finding someone murdered. All he
had to
offer
was a shoulder to lean on and an oath of
protection.
His cell rang and his arm slackened as he reached in his pocket to
retrieve the thin titanium device,
“
Que
paso
?
”

“
Cuz
, the cops won’t let me in unless I live there, man.” Domingo
said.

He’d called Domingo on his way over
and
request
ed they me
et
at this location
in case this was a set-up. When Domingo asked what was going on he told him what the girl
on the phone
said
and
thus
,
Domingo’s anxiety as he waited for confirmation.

“I’m coming
out now.
” He turned to the girl, “
How you doing Selange?”

Her eyes were on his chest, “I’m cold.”

She’s in shock.
“Alright, I’ll get you somewhere warm, for now,” both arms embraced her, “take my heat.”

Her forehead pressed against his collar bone and he maneuvered forward awkwardly with her. Once they emerged from the building everyone’s attention focused on the couple. The girl with bloodstained clothing and
the
Latin man cradling
her
,
were
undoubtedly connected to the victims in the rumored homicide in apartment 4C.
Talking ensued as they passed the young uniformed cops mingling with an ambulance crew
; t
he same
medics
who packed up and left a patient in obvious shock. His lip curled in disgust, civil servants, they did minimum work and expected premium pay.

“Excuse me…excuse me
…
did you know the victims?” A
female
reporter from
a local station asked.

Alfonzo ignored her and hastened his pace.

“Ca
n you tell us what happened?” The reporter
persisted
.

Selange
clutched his
shirt as he maneuvered past the flashing bulbs and cameras.
His anger grew as the pestilent
reporter
pushed the microphone to his chin and his temper flared. His voice held fiery ice and the blue eyes flashed an unspoken threat, “Get…the…camera…out…of…my…goddamn…face…lady!”

She withdrew under the unspoken threat and motioned to the camera man, “Come on…let’s go.”

Domingo rushed forward trailed by his boys, “What the hell’s going on
, what happened
, was it
T
io
?
”

“
Alfonzo’s somber expression confirmed the bad news, “
Si.”

“Ah…no…no…no…no.”
Domingo exclaimed simultaneously punching at air
and
drawing the attention from the reporter once more
.

Raul lowered his head
and
Fernando turned
and walked to a solitary place near the curb.
Uncle Al was the patriarch of the
f
amily
,
well respected and madly loved.

Domingo’s reaction was expected. Uncle’s loss was a tremendous blow to them all. The cavernous void in his absence was
immeasurable
.

“Alfonzo?”

Had she said his name? He blinked, “Yeah?”

“I need to get my car. I cannot leave it here. I’m never coming here again.” She started crying, not hysterically like before but heart
wrenching nonetheless.

Domingo composed himself and
looked
questionably
at the
stunning female as if seeing her for the first time. He spied her blood-s
tained
face and clothes
,
then
he
addressed Alfonzo, “Who’s she?”

“Selange…Uncle’s stepdaughter.”

“What?”

“Yeah man, he got married at the J.O.P.”

“What…so what the fuck happened did some motherfucker get pissed…what…what happened?”

Alfonzo swiveled his head looking in the eyes of those nearby
to s
earch for any sign of guilt or satisfaction on their faces.
He examined in the
dark for a killer.
He spoke in a conspiratorial tone, “They were shot execution style.”

Domingo became stone. The Diaz gene on display, “We’re going to find the motherfucker
, primo
.
On tio’s blood we
gotta
’ find the motherfuckers who did this!
”

The reporter inched closer
to
eavesdrop;
Alfonzo spotted her and said,
“Let’s get out of here. We’ll talk later.”

Selange shivered again
, “I’m cold.”

“We’re leaving. Where’s your car?”

She pointed to the parking lot adjacent to the building blanketed in darkness then opened her clenched fist to reveal a purse keychain.

“Raul, you up to driving?”

The
stocky
dark hair youth nodded.
“Yeah.”

“Follow in my car it’s right across the street. I’ll flash you
.
” He
tossed Raul
the key to his prized SL600,
with a stern
w
arning, “Don’t fuck-up my car,
comprende
?”