Aftermath (28 page)

Alfonzo laughed, “Then return to your comforter and get the fuck off the phone!”

“Arriverderci fratello.”

“Yeah
go
get
some
pussy and
we’ll talk l
ater!”

Giuseppe dropped the
cell on the night stand and stared at the ceiling.
He wasn’t in the mood
for pussy. The warmth of Alanda’s body was enough
.
His mind drifted, it went places he preferred it did not go. He didn’t want to think, he didn’t like questioning past actions. The more he reflected, the less he understood. He liked Geovonna, during sex that it is; out of bed she put him in a foul mood. Her acid tongue and gossiping drove him insane.
Ah, Alanda was a refreshing bedmate. She possessed a soft body and a softer tongue. He preferred her company over many, but the sparks he felt with Shanda is what he couldn’t ignore and is what he reflected on. There was something about her. She was not
hard like
Geovonna
. The tough act was all pretenses.
In fact,
he saw
vulnerability
. She was a woman
hurt many times who clawed at anyone who approached like a wounded cat.

Giuseppe sighed; he was turning into mush. He saw what women did to men and feared it. Yes, he was afraid to love. But sex had become monotonous and the women blurred together. They were different colors, shapes and sizes that soon turned abstract. Despite his aversion to commitment
,
he longed for a woman to love.

He envied Alfonzo somewhat. Family, sons and a funny woman.

Yes,
that
Selange
was hilarious.

Always running about with those innocent eyes of an angel, getting men to do whatever she wanted. Poor Alfonzo he was imprisoned by her love. Ah, Giuseppe began to laugh…the picture of her running after Alfonzo a comedy.

He coughed after the hearty laugh and Alanda did not stir. The tryst tired her, unlike Shanda whose stamina equaled his and the succulent kisses from her lips were nirvana.

Giuseppe slipped out of bed and took his cell into the next room.
Shanda’s f
ather
was the
polizei
but
he had to discover why she affected him in this way. A night and day together was
not enough to know someone. He wanted more time with her. Perhaps, he should fly to America and apologize for what he said. She did appear upset and
on the verge of tears.

He pressed the screen
and the number rang then went to voicemail
. The automated voice on the other end said it was the number to a Margaret.

Merda!

CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE

Saturday evening arrived and Carmen smiled taking the brush once more through Maria’s shoulder length curly locks, then pinning it up with silver hair clips in the shape of stars. Maria stared at her reflection. The soft make-up, she loved, however Carmen insisted on doing a smoky eye effect and Maria thought that may be too much for a woman her age, but Carmen hushed her protests. “You look beautiful, classy and sexy hermana. Do not think too much.”

Maria rose, smoothing down the lovely dress black dress caressed her womanly form and showed off her full breasts. She had not worn clothes this revealing in years and she felt awkward flaunting herself so shamelessly. On her first date she wore a simple
dress
and
fewer adornments
to her face and thought that was enough. However, tonight was different. The opera was a formal affair. The women there were certain to have on beautiful clothes and jewelry and she did not want Bruno embarrassed by his date.

“Thanks, Carmen. I better hurry downstairs before he wonders if I fell into the sink.”

“Manuel is keeping him company. Take a deep breath…
relax
…
” Carmen held up a finger then raced to her kitchen. Maria heard clinking and soon she returned handing her a drink. “Sip, go ahead.”

Maria drank and her eyes widened at the taste, “Carmen, rum?”

“Damn straight. You’ll relax very soon.” Then she took off again and returned with minty mouthwash, “Here gargle.”

Maria passed
Carmen
the glass back and took the green bottle and took a sip, swooshed the
oral freshener around in her mouth then hurried to the bathroom to spit.

“Okay, I have to go,” she said and headed to the door of the apartment and started down the stairs.

Bruno stood when Maria appeared. His eyes smiled as he soaked in her sexy appearance. The woman was spectacular, “You are beautiful, magnifico.”

Her nephew smiled. “You do look nice
Aunt
Maria.”

“Thank you…both
,”
s
he said and went to fetch her silver clutch. Inside were her ever handy rosary beads. She could never leave her home without them.

She lifted her cashmere shawl from the bed, took one long breath for courage and returned to the handsome man waiting for his date.

“Bye, have fun!” Carmen waved
from the top of the stairs
as Bruno escorted her by the waist to the limousine parked at the curb.

The nervousness lessened as a resul
t of the rum. Carmen was right, she felt light and almost giddy.
Too happy…too…tingly… in places… forbidden.

                                             ****

Erect.

Chin thrust forward.

Black hair trimmed and barbered.

Immaculate from head to polished footwear.

Black tailored tux, designed with his signature trim of blue on the edge of the sleeve and black bow-tie, he stood waiting.

Waiting for her to come downstairs.

Excited as a boy on his first date.

Anxious, because he liked the girl so damn much.

Uncertain but hopeful about how the night might end.

Determined to win her love and consummate
it
with kisses.

Thrilled because she liked him too
and she’d become his lover, his friend.

Alfonzo could not believe how damn nervous he felt. A date with the mother of his children. His ex-wife and th
e woman he wanted to impress had him ill at ease
. The first time he
had similar
jitters was on the day he knew he loved the girl. Today seeing her coming
downstairs in
the
gorgeous black
formal gown
and
upswept hair
, she
moved with the grace of a
woman
, a dynamic awesome woman
.
A
shiver c
ame
from the gut, screaming ‘she’s the one
…no doubt…this is the woman I want.
’

He heard it when troubled times brewed and it led him back to her door.

Selange wasn’t mafia or hood or any of the labels
people assign. He’d known from the moment he loved her she was an anomaly. She didn’t fit into anybody’s box. What made her different was she didn’t try to
assimilate;
she was content in her own skin
.
She wasn’t a mafia
woman;
she wasn’t born in
to the lifestyle
nor
have aspirations of such.
S
elange was a Brooklyn girl who went
to college
,
bec
a
me a teacher and never envisioned
she’d end up here.
Yet, the girl
from
the BK fell in love with a
fucked-up
dude
with more problems than a trigonometry book.
And
when the gory details of what lay ahead for him
were laid bare,
she
decided to hang
in there when other women would have fled.

He saw years of happiness ahead
in
her
eyes
. The
place in his heart
where passionate love dwelled was
reserved for
Selange.
The feeling gripping him he never felt for another woman. She came into his life and resuscitated a corpse. The streets had him barren inside and
extremely lost. Cristo, this woman saved him. Nobody knows the desolation which existed in his thuggish soul.

He was killing people way before
he knew of his
mafia
family
and
without knowing
it;
she
gave him a
reason to live.

Th
e phrase,
ride or die
chick
is
bull-shit
. It’s an overused
phrase
by thugs who
toss the words around
about their women
like saying it makes it true.
They think bad-ass is a vulgar mouth rough chick
that
rides in your whip, spends your money on dumb shit and visits you in prison and sends you commissary.

He wasn’t looking for a chick eager to start shit. He’d known enough of those
types
of girls and seen them in cars with their ghetto ways, hanging around the major players for their money and street cred but once the dude got locked up, shot up
or
put in a wheelchair or fell in rank, those
so-called ride or die chicas bounced.
They were in it for the money and the thrill of the game. S
elange’s motive had to be love, because she had the money, she had a choice to leave but
she didn’t, she stayed and fought when he’d given up. See, that’s a ride or die chick. A woman who fights for you when you stopped fighting for yourself and a woman who inspires goodness and doesn’t romanticize about the
illegal activity
because she knows it’
s wrong.
She stands with you but
it’s
really
you she’s fighting for…she’s light
in a precarious life
…not darkness…but hope.
Selange save
d a hopeless man and restored humanity to his soul!

Her hand clasped his and she
smiled
. “Hi guapo, I do love
the way you compliment that
tux.”

He was
speechless.

No, he could not
say anything. Words failed to form.
He was
a
grateful
irascible man
. The
former
thug who
was deep in crime
and
birthed a mafia son, found a woman who saw
Alfonzo
, the man
.
In her eyes
he wasn’t a label, he wasn’t dollar signs or intimidating. He was her man. A person she
accepted before she knew anything about the
mob
and
before
Alfonzo discovered who he was.

He pulled her close, put his forehead to hers and listened
to the silence, shutting out everything except the voice within.
He understood what
loving her
cost but at the
very
beginning
of their love affair
he assumed the risk when he
held on to an innocent girl and refused to
let her go. She’d become his weakness; yet made him strong. His life was a paradox,
which made them
a perfect fit.
The gut and the heart were in tune. It sang her name. It
said the
truth
in the darkness. It
restrained his
raging
hand
from striking during the storm.
It brought him low to remember
in love must come forgiveness.
It violated his
tough
nature
to
soften
parts
once stone.

It screamed
her out and dared anyone turn against her
; for they were one and he’d feel the injury
.

‘
S
he’s
my
rib;
my
heaven
in this hel
l
ish life
!’