Avarice (14 page)

“So, you’d rather harass a pregnant woman, is that it?”

“I am teaching a lesson, isn’t that what you two thought to do?”

“Oh stop Giuseppe. You only want to laude something over Shanda. If you need to teach anybody a lesson, start with yourself!”

“Humph,” he grumbled not missing a beat in entertaining his niece. “You and I have something in common. We love Shanda. What I seek is forgiveness, have you not done wrong?”

“Yes…yes…I have and that’s why I don’t want Shanda hurt. I love you too, believe it or not and pray you see Shanda’s worth. Life is too short Giuseppe…”

Giuseppe smirked when his sister-in-law’s eye began to water. Oh, the woman could become emotional at a drop of a hat. His brother was utterly fucked, wasn’t he? He supposed they all were. “Ah, the trials of love and life. We die for love and live for strife.”

Selange wiped her eyes. “I’m tired Giuseppe. It’s not easy loving men who go out and may not return home. When you’re out there, we worry. Shanda doesn’t need to wonder where you are. She’ll feel like a fool worrying if you’re okay and then finding out that you were safe with another woman.”

“Is that why you have sent Alanda away and frightened
the others?”

Oh crap, busted!

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she answered.

The broad lips smiled. “Ah, of course you do not. Love is usually the motivation.” H
is leg ceased shaking. “You have become a formidable woman. You are like the cocktail, sweet, yet acidic but good to the palette.” He leaned back. “But do not withhold when my brother is ill again. There are some secrets that are not meant to be honored, capisce donna?”

“I do not mean to disrespect you, but I cannot disavow my husband’s wishes. To do so is considered misplaced loyalty and although I may have disagreed, Alfonzo had his reasons. I’m sure he did not want to worry you.” She took Angelina from his lap when the girl began digging is his breast pocket and found an expensive pen. “I’m sure it’s not your intention to undermine the mutual trust between Alfonzo and me, right?”

“No. On matters of health and wellness, yes. Alfonzo is a stubborn man with too much pride. I am his brother, and when he is not well or any of you, I must know. Loving family’s we are present during the highs and lows. You cannot debate wisdom of ancient truths.” He began to chuckle. “Do not look at me that way. I have told fratellino the same, you see I have no reason to hide what I say from either of you.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Tony waited downstairs. The ornaments and tall spruce reminded him of the upcoming holiday he never celebrated. His parents were Jehovah Witnesses, who although were Christians believed Christmas is
not commanded by scripture and some considered many such holidays originally pagan.

Tony was an adult and recognized many of the
beliefs were the result of reformation when some protestant and puritan groups denounced many of the Catholic Church’s traditions, including festivals for being un-biblical or devilish.

There wasn’t any historical evidence, only a
general anti-Catholic sentiment. He found little comfort in anything religious based, not because he was an atheist, but due to his disappointments that man spouted scriptures but failed in many respects to act in accordance with what was written. Neutrality is the sect he chose; be you Hindu or Jew, Buddhist or Christian he treated people they way the behaved.

When Alfonzo appeared at the top of the stairs, he was fully clothed for travel. He’d lost weight Tony noticed and wondered just how sick had he really been for that to happen. But, then again if he were very ill, he would not herald to the world because everybody didn’t need to know.

“I’ll meet you at the car,” he said the minute his feet touched the shiny wood. Then he disappeared around the staircase.

Tony went outdoors, shoved his hands in his pockets and brought out his cell to answer a call. “Hey Tiffany, what’s going on?”

“I just wanted you to know I love you. Always.”

“I know you do…I’m sorry that I dropped the news on you the way I did.”

“Call me when you get settled in Sicily.”

“I will.”

There was a long pause. “I hope you find what you’re looking for is me,” she said and then hung up.

The front door opened and Alfonzo emerged carrying a coat with his face carved in stone.

***

On the flight to New York, Alfonzo hardly spoke.
Don Vecchio. The name that came from two separate sources played like a spinning carousel until wind drowned the sounds. Even  when the plane landed smoothly on the tarmac and he settled in the chauffeured car he had yet to come to terms with what he’d been told by Nico and then Tony.

He did not hunt a prey this day nor considered what he’d say when he found his cousin. Brother was what he thought of Domingo right up until the moment the car halt outside the closed
shop where he learned drug deals were made. This shop was formerly a safe haven from the hard streets of uptown which had become sullied by Domingo and his quest for something he’d never find.

Uncle Al worked hard to build a reputable business. For Alfonzo the place represented the sweat of a good man who toiled to buy groceries and pay rent. Uncle’s Al’s shop was hollow ground.

A phone call was made from the confines of the car to Domingo. “Open the door. I’m outside the shop,” was the only words he said.

He climbed out the vehicle with Tony at his side and waited until the latch clicked and one of Domingo’s street thugs ushered them in. Rap music, an old Tupac joint played and the bass rattled the stillness. The volume wasn’t loud, not really. The power of Tupac’s raps was the hardcore delivery. Alfonzo spied the punk’s sidearm with mean slits. “Wait here,” he ordered Tony who too must have sensed the tension.

Through the oil and bolts as Domingo termed the work station where a car sat atop a lift, Alfonzo as smooth as a canine entered the back office. The song was on speaker. Ironic that the lyrics fit Domingo to a T.

‘…
Until I die; live the life of a boss playa,

Cause even when I'm high, fuck with me and get crossed later,

The futures in my eyes, cause all I want is cash and thangs

A five-double-oh - Benz flauntin’ flashy rings…’

It seems - my main thang was to be major paid

The game sharper than a motherfuckin’ razor blade…
’

Alfonzo wasn’t surprised to find Domingo seated behind his desk counting wads of cash. “Feeling good, huh?” Alfonzo asked.

“Damn good. Having stacks on stacks is a unique kind of high,” Domingo replied and lifted a blunt from the ashtray he’d left burning when he answered his cell. “What brings you down to the slumburbs high and mighty cousin right before Christmas Eve?”

“You.”

“Yeah, you came to bring me a present?”

“I came to ask a question?”

Domingo closed one eye and took a long drag of weed laced with coke. “Shoot!”

The smoke rafted to the office ceiling. The dull lights made it seem like a cloud. Alfonzo hadn’t sat. His legs were tensed for a verbal battle. The music brought a pulse of its own straight to the heart of ‘hood men.

‘…
I'm caught between my woman, and my pistol, and my chips,

Triple beam, got some smokers on, whistle as I dip

I'm lost in the land with no plan, livin’ life flawless,

Crime boss, contraband, let me toss this…’

“How did you hook up with
Don Vecchio?”

Domingo laughed. “Oh I g
et it. You have spies everywhere type shit. For your information the dude sought me out, made me a proposition I couldn’t refuse.”

“Yeah when?”

“About a year ago.”

Alfonzo did the math. “It didn’t seem suspicious to you primo that a man like that would come to talk business?”

“Nah, aint like I haven’t got my own reputation you know.”

“You’ve been legit for years now unless I’m mistaken isn’t that right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So, your dumb ass never considered the possibility you were being used to get to me?”

“Everything aint about you primo!”

“In a situation like this it is. Did you know Selange and Allie nearly got killed a few months back?”

Domingo seemed surprised. “No…no…I didn’t.”

“Did you know Sergio
almost got killed a year before that?”

“Fuck’a Sergio!”

“Sergio’s family just like you’re family.”

“Your family you mean,
he aint shit to me.”

“Then I’m not shit to you either.
”

Alfonzo recalled a conversation he had during a meeting with the
Five not so long ago. Now things started to make sense. Don Vecchio ha
d
said, “Loyalty and trust go hand in hand. Sometimes those who speak least are those who listen and observe the most.”

Back then he’d been warned to
look in his own backyard and told that is where trouble stems. He took out Lou, but Don Vecchio had corrupted Domingo and he wondered exactly how long that had been his plan.

Getting high and listening to Tupac was hype shit. The type of songs they played back in the day when adrenalin was pumping and drug deals made. Sometimes they caught heat, whipped out nines and laid suckers down. That’s their legacy of street days gone by. The curse of many wayward youth growing up without good fathers. Some found a way out through education, employment or like Tyree, determination to do something meaningful with their lives. Not Domingo. He had the street mentality and bought the negative lies.

‘…The nervousness neglect make me pack a tec,

Devoted to servin’ this, Moet and pay-checks…

It ain't right parasites triggers and fleas crawlin

Sucker duck and get busted, no emotion…

Where you goin’ I been there came back as lonely homie…

It's about the money in this rap shit, this crap shit…’

Domingo frowned and stubbed out the blunt. “Real shit Tupac.”

“Straight up, but I’m not here to discuss dead rappers primo.”

“You know,” Domingo said standing tall. “Eversince we were kids you thought you were big and bad. I used to kick your ass remember until you started pumping iron and taking martial arts classes.”

“I didn’t do that because of you primo, I did that for self-defense against the gangs running me down, comprende?”

“Maybe, we see things differently. But that was then and this is now. I’m sorry if you’ve been having troubles but that has nothing to do with me.”

Alfonzo’s stance widened. “Oh, but it does. You turned on me primo and what’s worse is you’re so high you probably don’t even know you did.”

‘…This criminal lifestyle, equipped with the bulletproof vest
,

Make sure your eyes is on the meal ticket
,

Get your money motherfucker let's get rich and we'll kick it
,

All eyes on me…’

Bold is what boys become when loaded with substances, guns and angry songs. Face down a motherfucker and speak reckless against your own. Pull a gun on blood, point it in his face,
and stare in the blue eyes of a cousin because his words held a threat to a warped brain. “I should blast your ass. I’m sick of hearing your shit primo. Get the fuck over yourself and stop interfering with my life. You just upset because you can’t control what I do, word!”

Childhood memories dissolved down the hard barrel of a gun pointed at Alfonzo’s face. An extremely reckless action by someone he loved,
whose action reflected hate. Cool and completely chilled Alfonzo responded with disappointment. “You sink low when you pull a gun on blood?”

“Then stop talking shit and recognize I aint one of your flunkies primo and maybe then we can talk!”

Alfonzo squinted because the pressure bearing on his head was too strong. He turned his back then, prepared to walk out on Domingo for good when there was a chuckle. “Ah come on, you’re all pissed and shit. We’re still cool, we’re family.”

Family
.

Alfonzo turned. Domingo found the entire situation humorous. Jokes can’t stop a weak link from breaking an entire chain. Smiles after treachery can’t erase an affront. Hell, even Nico during fists and quarrels had yet to pull a gun.

Family
.

“
Sí primo…familia es importante
,” Alfonzo replied and stepped to the edge of the desk. He spread his arms wide for an embrace. A broad smile transformed the grim face. “I love you, for real. Ven aquí, primo.”