Alfonzo (28 page)

Alfonzo smirked, “Anyway, I’m
done
,” their eyes locked, “Domingo
keep a cool head.
”

“You know it.”

His cousin was his best friend but their paths were going in separate directions. Domingo loved the street game
and
Alfonzo only played it for survival. He’d made enough money and the exci
tement was gone. He needed a different adrenalin rush and he found it with Selange.
“I heard about Carlos.”

“Sad ‘
aint
it?”
Domingo opined.

“Crying shame.”
Alfonzo s
aid without emotion.

“
You cool with it
, primo
?”

“I’m cool.” His arm throbbed. It happened every so often
. Until it fully healed the occasional discomfort was expected.
“
Call me after you deal with Antonia. Sweeten the pot. Give her twenty-K if she gets the fuck out tomorrow. I don’t want to see her ass again.
Ella
loca
!”

“You got it.”

“
Bueno, hasta
luego
.”
They exchanged
the
familial handshake of brotherhood along with quick shoulder contact before Domingo jogged down the stair.

Shanda
leaned against the cold wall and strained to make out
her
location.
Her arms throbbed from the tight restraints and her mouth tasted like sand
. Two days with barely food or water was torture. She missed th
e Waffle House and Jamaican beef patties.
She missed her family and her warm bed. She was the story on the news of a girl missing. A story viewed from the safe confines of one’s home without experiencing the victim’s horror.
No, a passive observer could never imagine the fierce
palpitations of the heart
or the
helplessness
and despair unless they suffered through such an ordeal.
P
oor Jay.
He fought
and
screamed to her to run and she did only to hear a gunshot then silence. She made it to the car and the rest was a blur until she opened her eyes to the filthy reality of her prison. Her abductor sat in the shadows watching her, never speaking then he left and the sound of a lock was heard followed by footsteps fading away.
She dozed, awakened to quiet then dozed again. Hungry, weak, frightened she prayed someone came before…
b
efore what? She couldn’t imagine the end. Her abductor was crazy to have done such a thing and it was difficult formulating the intent or workings of one so perverse.

Shanda
wept
. Her father
worked in law enforcement and when there were community self-defense courses he encouraged her to attend. She’d gone to a few but what good would it do in this situation. Her hands and feet were bound. She screamed her lungs out and only her echo answered. She cried at the sight of the stained
bucket
put there as replacement for a nice clean
toilet
, the
filthy mattress
undoubtedly infested with bedbugs or human excrement and the thick
oppressive stench
for lack of proper ventilation.
Dev
oid of
any tracking of
time
through light or darkness
she
huddled
in a corner
praying someone
found and
soon
.

Suddenly, the door screeched
open and a thin stream of light settled at her feet.
Beyond the light she saw a wall, perhaps a corridor, leading to where she wondered?
Her abductor entered
wearing sunglasses and a scruffy beard which disguised his features.
A McDonald’s bag dangled from one hand, a bottle of water clutched in the other.
He closed the door
then sat casually on the floor with crossed legs.

“Hungry?”

S
he didn’t answer.

“I hear your stomach growling.”

He’s crazy!

He opened the bag and pulled out a cheeseburger, “Can’t find much else around, here.
Fast food restaurants…no fine cuisine, it’s no wonder we have an obesity epidemic in America.
”

She remained silent.

“You’re really beautiful,” he took a bite of the cheeseburger, “guys hit on you a lot, right?”

Her heart pounded as she cowered in the shadows.

He leaned forward, “That guy you were with, he isn‘t your type, neither is that spic.”

What the hell is he talking about?

Shanda watched as he devoured the burger. Her stomach whined pitifully.

“You know I’ve been thinking about you a lot. Wondering what it’d be like to…”

The sentence was interrupted by
ringing. He stood,
“Be back in a minute
Selange don’t go anywhere sweetheart
.”

He walked to the door leaving the
colorful
bag on the floor.
The door
shut and h
is voice echoed in the
stillness.

Sick bastard
, he thinks I’m Selange
!
She gripped the
edge of her bindings and wiggled her wrists frantically in an effort to slacken the hold. She
refused to allow fear to paralyze her any longer.
If she didn’t do something she’d die here at the hands of a
sadistic lunatic
. The cord cut her wrists. The stinging hurt but fear of death made the pain insignificant. She kept at it and only stopped when the sound of the door creaked open and the bearded man poked his head through the door, “I need to run out for a
minute sweetheart. Help yourself to something to eat. When I get back we’ll spend quality time together, okay?”

Shanda whimpered.
Oh God…please help me!

The loud click of the lock reverberated and she was alone once more. She rolled and twisted on the floor in frantic desperation to get free. She had to fight back….she had to!

***

Freddie looked up at the sky. Cumulous clouds did not filter the intensity of the sun’s rays. Summer was over and the slow kiss of Fall
brushed
his skin. He smiled with satisfaction.
The Diaz punk was right where he wanted him
, c
onfused and uncertain
, v
ulnerable and exposed. He
plann
ed to have fun with the girl first. Give her a taste of what a real man
’s
like. She’d
beg him to stop, t
hey all did, eventually.

The
black Ford sat partially hidden behind a large green dumpster
with the words, DICHENZO WASTE MANAGEMENT.

Evan
Graham wanted a meeting, a
pparently
his employer were coming into town and he wanted Freddie to do one last job for him. Make his employer di
s
appear!

CHAPTER T
WENTY
-
SEVEN

Vincent
Serano
stood guard outside room 301 as visitors came and went.
Luzo’s condition deteriorated
rapidly.
The end neared
and
Alberti was summoned to Luzo’s bedside for a private meeting.

Twenty minutes later Alberti emerged from the room with a somber expression.
He said nothing as he climbed into the waiting car driven by
Nico Serano
.

“Ready Mr. Alberti?”

“Yes.”

The car slid from the curb and mingled with the flow of traffic on seventy-second street
to travel
uptown. He promised Luzo he’d return shortly.
The chauffeured car arrived at a row of brownstones and Alberti exited alone.
He rang the doorbell and waited. The door opened and he looked into the eyes of a
young Luzo. Handsome dark features, a muscular physique and
identical
intense blue eyes
.

“
You looking
for someone?” The young man asked.

Alberti noticed the way the young man’s body remained a silhouette behind the door.
The boy expected
trouble;
it was evident by
his
stance.

“I am looking for Alfonzo Diaz.”

“And you are?”

“Mr. Alberti. I have a message from his father.” Alberti added the last sentence
hoping this might pique the young man’s interest. It did.

“My father’s dead.”

“That is not
true;
he is alive and very sick.” He removed a picture from
his wallet and handed it to Alfonzo.
The photograph showed his mother in an intimate embrace with a strange man
in
a gondola
along the Venetian Canal.
“May I come in?”

Alfonzo stepped aside and allowed the stern looking man entry. He had question
s,
lots of questions.

Alberti took a seat and looked around. The boy exhibited a mature taste in
furnishings. The
décor
reflected his culture and eye for art
.

Alfonzo offered him a drink and he declined. The young man was courteous, Luzo
would be proud.

“Who is this man with my mother?”

“Luzo Palazzo
,
your father.”

“How do I know you’re not lying?”

“Most lies are complicated, the truth is simpler.”

Alfonzo held the photograph. He and the man shared similar bone structure.
Alberti casually crossed his leg. The young man needed further convincing, so be it.
“Your mother’s name is Maria Diaz. Your father and mother met here in America.
She traveled to Italy before you were born and she and Luzo had…um…a romantic love affair which did not last. She returned to America
and gave birth to you. She has devoted her life to you and faith. You, young man enjoy sports and are formidable in martial
arts;
you have
your
father’s blue eyes and mannerisms. You are his son.” He cocked his head to the side
to stare intently at the young man, “You know what I say is true.”

Alfonzo’s eyebrow lifted skeptically. The subtle action caused Alberti to smile.
“Your father does that
also
when he contemplat
es
. You are a Palazzo.”

Palazzo…he’d heard the name mentioned before.

“Really?”
Alfonzo said sarcastically.

“Your father has terminal cancer and
lies in
Sloan-Kettering hospital,” Alberti said with
the patience of a priest, “
waiting to make peace with you.”

“Why should I care about his
conscience?
He’s never been there for me?”

“
He has always been there
.
”
Alberti replied then
uncrossed
his leg
to
lean toward
recalcitrant
young man, “
Y
our father
has always watched over you since he first learned of your existence.”

Selange emerged from the kitchen, “Oh, you have company, hello,” she said pleasantly.

Alfonzo stood quickly
without introduction
and
intercept
ed Selange.

She
wore satin pajamas and a pair of pink fuzzy
slippers
.
His heart
squeezed at the raw innocence permeat
ing
the air.
If she knew about his nefarious deeds would she still want him?
He took her hand and whispered, “I’ll be there soon
bonita
, I
’m
discussing business.”

Alberti watched the
lovers’
exchange. They were a handsome couple
and h
e wondered if
the youth was a cad. He
turned
his attention
e
lsewhere as
the young man
cupped
the girl’s f
ace
before kissing her tenderly on the mouth. The intimacy of his act brought a wry smile to Alberti’s mouth. The youth was also charismatic
and charming like his father.