Affliction (8 page)

With a loud slurp he drank the last remnants of the coffee and placed the empty cup in a holder. He closed his eyes, letting the car rock him from side-to-side, ingesting the song.

‘Feeling my way through the darkness,

Guided by a beating heart,

I can't tell where the journey will end,

But I know where to start…

So wake me up when it's all over,

When I'm wiser and I'm older,

All this time I was finding myself,

And I didn't know I was lost,

I tried carrying the weight of the world,

But I only have two hands,

Hope I get the chance to travel the world,

But I don't have any plans…

Not afraid to close my eyes

Life's a game made for everyone

And love is the prize…’

He reached the house and walked through the dimly lit corridor. There’s energy from children, while they’re asleep a parent can feel the flutter of innocent hearts. A home of love breathes and he wanted to be part of it always but somewhere he was losing the fight.

Damn babe,
don’t break me anymore. I’m becoming lost. The lyrics to the song had resonated so deep, they made him think.

He was
engrossed in thought until a door creaked open and a child’s head poked out. He came awake at the sight of one of his many loves.

“Hi daddy,” Angelina whispered and then tip-toed like a burglar to
ward her father.

A tired man scooped up
the small child to plant a kiss on a rosy cheek. “¿Qué es esto?” he asked. “My angel is not asleep.”

“I waited for you.”

“You did hija?”

“Um-hum,” she said shaking her head up and down
.

Her
glow of innocence recharged his emotional battery.

“Por qué?”

“Because.”

“Because what?”

“Because I wanted to say good-night.”

“Oh
you are sweet. Te amo, hija.”

“You’re sweet
like sugar.” She rubbed his ears and kissed his forehead. “Love you, too,” she said and then wiggled out of his arms.

Alfonzo placed her gently on her feet and smiled as she tip-toed to her room. What a sweet child. He peeked in and she had the cover over her head. Vincent was curled in a ball on the opposite bed.

“Buenos noches mi ángel,” Alfonzo whispered.

“Night
.” She yawned.

Alfonzo grinned as he closed the door.
He wasn’t lost anymore; he was found by a child.

***

“Mama, Carlo comes with me, finito!” Giuseppe shouted to the woman as she made her protest known for the hundredth time. He did not wish to hear any more. Shanda’s death did not give her license to steal his son. Frankly, he needed Carlo’s presence more than ever. He marched upstairs with his mother in pursuit.

The pain of Shanda’s sudden passing had eased somewhat, but his temper had not. Lately, everyone and everything set him off, except Carlo.

“Geo, por favore, let him stay. You are far too busy to care for him, besides, it is late and he is asleep.” Sophie pleaded.

"Mama you are worse than the Americano government. I have told you
the decision is final, yet you attempt extortion at the expense of others." Vexed, Giuseppe exhaled. "Do not use my work to claim Carlo. Ti amo mama, but do not make me angry with your manipulations.” His eyes softened.  Perhaps he was being cruel. At times, he had to reach inside for the words of Allie, who always cautioned him to be nice. He had listened, bought Shanda that damn car and his niceness is why she died. If anyone were to blame, nice Giuseppe was at fault. “Mama, I know you were good to Shanda. Feel no guilt. Continue with the business, you have her recipes and the skill. Honor her memory mama; do that for Carlo…por favore…do it for me.”

Sophie held a hand to her heart. Her grief was deep and the guilt immeasurable. Only if she had not given Shanda the key and waited for Giuseppe to do the honors, the girl would be alive because he would have prevented her from driving off. But
a meddling mother wanted to see Shanda’s happy expression, that’s what she couldn’t get out of her mind.

Sophie’s eyes filled as she looked upon her son. “Por favore
figlio let Carlo stay this notte.”

Giuseppe gripped the balustrade. Ah, cazzo perhaps he
could allow the boy to remain till tomorrow. “I come after work mama. Have his things ready, por favore?” he said and then trot down the stairs and slammed out the door before his mother thanked him.

Sophie sighed. Shanda’s passing had made Giuseppe more irritable. She prayed the deep sadness went away. She peered in on the sleeping child before returning downstairs to sit on the patio. She stared at the stars; she renamed the brightest one Shanda. The girl had so much potential and now she was gone.

“Ah, I will miss you,” she whispered to the dark as she blinked, not wanting to cry any more. She had to stay strong for Carlo.

Sophie frowned, and then reclined.

The night was thick, but the clock showed it was too early to retire. The weeks had become too long, the days torturous. She felt burdened of late, perhaps because her birthday was coming and Shanda and Amelda had planned a big celebration. They thought she didn’t know, but she had ears in many places. The loyal cook, Viola had hawk eyes and canine hearing for an elderly woman and conveyed household gossip to her employer.

Sophie chose to forego a fiesta this year. She could not dance or smile pretending she were happy when she lost a woman who had become a second daughter. 

A guard appeared on the lawn. “Signora Dichenzo there is a man at the gate; he says his name is Yosef.”

Ice froze her veins. Yosef was in prison for twenty years, at least she had thought. The frost became a furnace and her ventricles thawed. Her eyes did not reflect her panic. Controlled, she nodded. “Sí let him enter but ensure he is relieved of any weapons,” she instructed
. Although this was normal procedure, reiteration of security protocol revealed her concern.

The guard disappeared and Sophie exhaled hard, and then she stood. She would face Yosef without fear. In business, a lady cannot show weakness. She
had made risky business deals in the past with hard men. The one she married was quite fierce. Whatever compensation Yosef expected; she was unwilling to give. The Statute of Limitations had run, it’s not as if she committed murder.

Sophie marched through the house.
Viola had retired for the night, her arthritis had flared. The poor woman refused to go to Syracuse to live with her daughter.

A mirror in the foyer is where Sophie glanced at her reflection. A few pounds here and there enhanced her figure. As a girl she’d been too thin. She scoffed. Her mother said she resembled Sophia Loren. “You should become an actress,” her mother often encouraged, but Sophie loved cooking. She had no interest in memorizing scripts or spending hours in make-up and wardrobe with children
.

She opened the door before anyone rang the bell. She did not want to wake Carlo. Yosef approached, escorted by a soldati with an automatic rifle. He wore a crisp white shirt, black slacks and polished shoes. The former mane of black hair was peppered with grey beneath his yarmulke. He had aged
but well, the rock cell gave him an even meaner disposition she noticed by the sneer on his mouth. But, he played the gentleman. “Shalom, Sophie Dichenzo, my sympathies are delayed.”

Sophie waved him in, leaving the soldati outside the door. When they were alone she offered Yosef refreshments; she refused to
acknowledge his disingenuous condolences. “Would you like tea, or coffee?”

He waved his hand. The inspection of her home was made without turning his head. “No,” he answered walking to the settee
but he did not sit. “Beautiful villa. Carlo made you a very rich widow.”

“What do you want Yosef?” she asked without further ceremony.

The sharp white of his teeth showed. “Must I say?”

Her eyes flicked over the well-formed physique, further sculpted by what many say is prison exercise. What
else is there to do behind bars besides reading for an inmate with a lengthy sentence?

“Our business concluded upon your arrest
,” Sophie stated.

“Oh, but Signora Dichenzo, that is not how it works.”

Sophie’s eyes were spiteful. “It is what I say, capisce?”

Yosef snorted. “What you say does not alter the debt.”

“I owe you nothing!”

“I am here to conclude our transaction. I demand the balance. I sat in jail because
of you.”

“
You were imprisoned because of your crimes, besides I do not have the item and I hear your time was spent in luxury.”

The hulking figure
frowned. “Ah, I understand.” He put his hands in his pockets. “Should I speak to your son or perhaps Don Diaz?”

“You will die first.”

He chuckled, and stepped closer to the attractive matron who was stunning many years ago. A beauty is what she remained but he was not affected by her charm, prison walls broke the spell, although he found his penis had begun to harden in a sign of betrayal. “No Sophie my love. You will not harm me because you understand the risks. Besides, I thought you were reasonable. But, I see only men can understand the necessity of honor in business. What is a handshake, a signature on a promissory note if no one intends to pay, tell me love?”

Sophie scowled
at his slight. “Do not threaten or offend me Yosef. I am averse to blackmail.”

“You speak with such conviction, but fear is in your eyes
.” A bold hand gripped her ass. “A man who has spent many years locked-up begins to wonder whether he was double-crossed. You never wrote or visited, why is that Sophie?”

“I could not risk the polizei making a connection.”

“Yes, that is what I thought.” He squeezed her tush to bring her against his hardness. “There is a time we were cordial.”

“Cordial Yosef?”

“Far more than friends.”

“Yosef!” she replied sharply
to his boldness.

But Yosef observed she did not try to escape. “Tonight we dispense with the games.” His mouth covered hers before she could
speak. He held her arms to her sides to invade her mouth with his tongue. With little effort he pinned Sophie to the settee, smiling when she wet his mouth with deceitful lips. He experienced a furious tremor and his dick sprung up like a Jack-in-the-Box.

He leaned away.
A reminder of the past was a simple sentence. “I brokered the deal for your husband and he received the merchandise at half price. I only intervened because you asked. But, you failed to honor the side bargain and now I want payment and interest in the form of flesh.”

“
Carlo has paid you.”

“Feh!”
Yosef growled. “The agreement we had did not concern cash. You were aware of my dilemma. Yet, in lieu of honoring a promise you sentenced me to jail.”

“I could not allow you to keep the painting.
Carlo would have noticed it was missing. I could not risk his anger,” she answered sliding up on the striped cushions.

Yosef grinned. “I suspected as much.” His eyes bore through her skull. “I
need what you promised. A debt is a debt.” His nostrils flared. “Your treachery has consequences Sophie.”

“Yosef, leave my home!”

He bent low. “I want you Sophie,” he said while sliding his hand between her thighs. His fingers found the edge of her panties and he tore them in a haste to consummate. “You and I are the same. Carlo is dead and you need a strong man to take his place. A sexy woman needs sex. Unless she no longer likes to fuck.”

She slapped his arrogant cheek. “Vaffanculo!”

He grinned and kissed her down. Initially she struggled but then she relaxed. She tugged at his shirt, popping the buttons. He grunt when she massaged his chest, running soft hands up his neck and through his hair and his yarmulke hit the armrest.

“You still want me to leave?” he asked as he spread her legs and hiked her dress.

The answer was a fevered sucking of his lower lip and then pulling on his tongue.

Yosef
recalled their clandestine meeting in Naples at a hotel. She had the painting as promised and an expensive bottle of champagne. She said they must
celebrate,
Carlo had received the armaments.  Yosef had legal problems with the government of both Israel and America. He had arranged to bribe an influential official to have the charges disappear by paying with an heirloom, a part of the man’s heritage considered priceless due to sentiment. Sophie said she could locate the piece and she had.