Animus (3 page)

~ ~

The weatherman predicted light rain for the start of tomorrow’s workday. Nothing unusual about rain in spring; a blizzard and an earthquake, now something like that certainly might spike an interest Tony scoffed as he sipped his beer. Tiffany thumbed through another haute couture magazine, with her feet on his lap as she smiled at what was probably a pricey outfit she’d copy and make unique. He sat the empty can down on the table and reclined. He leisurely rubbed her calf, wondering how long it’d take for her to say, “Oh this is too cute. Look Tony, isn’t this me?”

It would’ve happened, except world news replaced the weather and the images brought Tony slowly forward in disbelief. A multiple shooting outside a church in Palermo on Saturday where a baptismal for a reputed mobster’s child took place captured his attention. “What the fuck?”

Tiffany put aside her magazine. “Oh my goodness Tony, this is crazy. Who guns down people at a church?”

There were multiple victims and the reporter said the death toll was certain to climb. Tony reached for his cell to call his Supervisor Matt on what only moments ago was a relaxing Sunday evening. Matt would have more information on whether his new boss was one of those fatalities. Alfonzo Diaz had gone out of his way to cut him a break and dudes like that were rare nowadays.

Matt picked up immediately. “Good evening Tony let me guess, you’re calling because you heard the news and want to know about Mr. Diaz’ condition, right?”

“So it is the boss then?”

“Yes
,” Matt answered. “Don’t worry about your job. The boss hired you personally and unless you fuck up, your position is guaranteed.”

Tony frowned. He wasn’t concerned about a desk position. He’d called to find out if Mr. Diaz and his family were all right. “That’s good to know and I appreciate it, but I called to inquire whether he was one of the fatalities.”

“The hospital’s not giving out that information. I’m flying there this evening and as soon as I have more information I’ll send out a memo.” There was a pause. Matt must’ve had a thought. Since the boss hired Tony, he probably assumed they were close friends, why else would he ask, “Listen, can you make it to KTEB in the next hour?”

Tony glanced at Tiffany who watched him curiously. “What’s KTEB?”

“That’s the Teterboro Executive Airport out in Jersey. You want to come along for the ride, yes or no?”

Tony stood. “I’ll be there.”

The moment he hung up, Tiffany was on her feet. “You’ll be where?”

“I’m going to Europe with one of the company guys.”

Tony was walking toward the bedroom and Tiffany was on his heels. “What –why?”

It probably seemed crazy, which it was. He didn’t have to go –he wanted to. Sitting behind a drafting desk or in front of a computer after years away from the craft had left him rusty and uninspired. He’d gotten bored after one day and frankly, he wasn’t looking forward to Monday morning, in fact he dreaded it. Tiffany wouldn’t understand. She’d probably question his sanity. He yanked his suitcase out the closet and quickly tossed in clothes and toiletries. He rummaged in the top drawer for his passport, checked to make sure the damn thing hadn’t expired and shoved it in his back pocket. “It’s on company time, why not?”

He called a cab. They waited in the living room. Occasionally he peered through the curtains checking the street below their apartment as Tiffany leaned on a wall with her arms folded. “I hope you’re not trading in one bad habit for another. You don’t know anything about this Diaz person, except he gave you a break. Don’t get mixed up in the other side of his business. He doesn’t need another lackey. He saw something else in you…he saw a good man with a promising future. What you do with the opportunity is solely your decision.”

Tony’s eyes caressed his lady. “I’m going.”

She exhaled sharply and nodded. “Gotcha. You made up your mind and whatever I say won’t matter.” Her mouth twisted to the side and rotated as she tried to delicately word what came next. “So many brothers get a bad rap. I get it…Tony…I do…but you were given a second chance. Lashing out at the legal system for what happened isn’t going to restore what you’ve lost. It’s this moment that matters. After Chip, I’d think you’d want to stay clear of these mob guys”

Two loud honks sounded. “The cab is here,” he said as he lifted the suitcase from the floor.

Tiffany stepped aside. “Have a safe trip.”

He sighed. “I’ll be back and hope you’re here when I do.”

Their eyes locked. “Why wouldn’t I? I’m not your ex. If I were to leave I’ll tell you to your face and then strut my ass right out the door. If I don’t hear from you by tomorrow night I’ll be on a flight to Italy to find out what’s up, you understand?”

The cab honked again. Tony planted a warm kiss on his beloved. When he pulled away his tone was soft, “I’m coming home because I love you girl –and for the record you’re nothing like my ex…you’re far better.”

~ ~

Tyree Davis reviewed the patient chart with heavy eyelids. He’d been on this fast track since undergrad, doubling up on courses and graduating with a B.S in three years instead of four and then med school. He lucked out in the Residency Match Program, and ranked high. He had an opportunity to choose from several hospitals and King’s County was more than eager to accept a Harvard Med School grad. He could have gone anywhere, written his own ticket so to speak, but he was keeping a promise. One he made the day his dad was killed and thanks to a very special lady and her husband, he was able to do that.

He scanned the diagnostic results of the Polymerase Chain Reaction or PCR testing. He searched for atypical
, strains, including Mycoplasma, Chlamydiapneumoniae and possibly Haemophilus Influenzae Type-B, but the results were unremarkable. The patient’s infection was eradicated with antibiotic treatment. With a compromised immune system as a result of HIV, the patient’s doctor decided to utilize the expensive and more aggressive testing along with the standard urinalysis, sputum and blood samples. Having premium health insurance, Tyree was sure also instigated the decision. Hospitals were businesses and unfortunately, the better the insurance, the better the care.

Tyree
returned the patient chart and addressed the patient. He lounged in the crumpled gown and his eyes glued to the TV. “Mr. Ortega your test results are negative. There’s no longer any sign of infection and it looks like you’re going home tomorrow.”

The patient tore his eyes from the TV to give Tyree his full attention. “That’s good to hear
doc.”

“Yes, it is. Dr. Reeshani will come in the morning to officially …”

The patient’s eyes returned to the television and Tyree squinted at the man’s preoccupation. Instead of discussing his condition, he preferred to share a news report. “Seems Italy has a major crime problem, too. Mobsters shooting up people in a drive-by like they’re in East LA, it's all a goddamn shame!”

“Yeah, crime’s everywhere,” Tyree said with disinterest.

Mr. Ortega pointed to the screen which Tyree could not see. “They’re saying one of the victim’s heads a charitable organization and has roots here in Brooklyn. Can you believe her parents were shot dead a while back and now she’s the victim of gun violence? I guess being married to a rich guy don’t stop bullets. They have her picture up and this Selange Diaz is one fine lady. I really hope she makes it!”

Tyree swung the arm around on the old TV’s metal bracket. His chest caught an immediate cramp when he saw the picture in the top corner of the screen. The lovely face was unmistakable; he’d seen it up close many times. How could he not recall the dimpled smiles of encouragement and congratulatory well-wishes when he graduated med school? Not to mention, only recently she had him as the guest of honor at her fundraiser. He hurried out of the room in search of the attending physician.

Dr. Nzunghe was in his office on the administrative wing of the busy hospital. Balding with silver glasses; his dark skin was so smooth it looked polished. He looked up from his computer when Tyree entered without knocking. “Dr. Davis, is there an emergency?”

“Yes. I have a family emergency. I need time off.”

Dr. Nzunghe leaned back. “That may be impossible at the moment Dr. Davis, we’re short-staffed.”

Tyree’s blood pressure elevated. His head began to throb. The attending physician was known for having an abrasive demeanor and extremely tough on the interns. Tyree experienced this first-hand when he arrived late for his shift. The man nearly bit his head off for ten minutes of tardiness. “I’m sorry but this is an emergency. A family member may have been killed and I need to leave town, today.”

“An immediate relative?”

“Yes,” Tyree lied.

“How long?”

“I don’t know…two weeks…it depends.”

“Unfortunately, I cannot grant your request today. I will see what I can do tomorrow.”

“You don’t understand, I can’t continue my shift. The patient’s deserve an attentive physician. The last thing I want is the hospital to defend a malpractice lawsuit caused by an intern who requested immediate leave due to emotional distress
and had it denied.”

Dr. Nzunghe grunted irritably. Dr. Davis displayed the reason he graduated in the top one percent in his class at Harvard. He relented. “One week Dr. Davis and I expect you to return with documentation of this emergency.”

“Two.”

“One and a half max. Now do not push further Dr. Davis, There are many candidates willing to fill your slot."

"None with a Harvard Degree," Tyree quipped.

"No, but a degree from an Ivy League university only gets you so far young man. Nobody likes an arrogant braggart."

"Then I suggest you stop wearing your Princeton ring," he retorted before hurrying home to book a flight, pack and scribble a note to his fiancée.  On his way out the apartment he nearly collided with her when he stepped out the door.

His fiancée
immediately noticed his suitcase and asked, “What’s this, are you going somewhere?”

She held a bag of groceries and Tyree sat down the suitcase to hold open the door. “
Tonya, an emergency’s come up. A friend’s been hurt and I need to leave town.”

T
he fiancée cop stared at him funny and went into an interrogation. “Really, who, where and when did this happen?”

Tyree hadn’t talked much about his family or friends. She knew the important stuff. He’d gone to live with grandparents after his father’s murder; won a scholarship from a non-profit organization and attended a recent function. He
did invite her but she had to work and that’s about the gist of it. He hadn’t elaborated on the founder or her marital ties because his fiancée hadn’t asked. Well, he could have volunteered the information, but he didn’t. Omission is how Tyree avoided the argument certain to arise about cutting ties with Selange Diaz.

He could hear it now. “Tyree, it doesn’t bode well that I’m in law enforcement and you’re affiliated with someone whose husband is
in the syndicate.”

No, he wasn’t ready to go toe to toe with his fiancée on the subject. Selange Diaz’ charity had given him a leg up and the woman was the nicest person he met. She became a friend over the years. Hell, Mr. Diaz paid his entire tuition at med school, including room and board and that’s a big-deal!

Eventually, he’d tell his fiancée. Her probation ended shortly and once he fulfilled his residency requirements he would. By then they would be husband and wife. Perhaps, she’d refrain from ultimatums and accept his associations were just as important as her job. Maybe, just maybe she’d get to know Selange and realize the woman was a human being and not some Mafia Queen. Anyway, he’d done things his own way for a long time now. There's a hazard being an only child with relatives akin to strangers. Flying solo becomes a preference but he didn’t want to go on that way. He loved his fiancée, boy did he, however there’s little honor in a person who walks out on a good friend.

He checked his watch; he had less than an hour and thirty-six minutes to get to JFK. “Look, I’ll call you and explain everything when I get to the hotel.” He gave her a quick kiss, picked up his luggage and rushed outside to get one of the livery cabs passing on the corner of Kings Highway.

CHAPTER THREE

A worried mother held her convalescent son’s hand while whispering loving words and caressing a man’s face, yet seeing a boy. Her Giuseppe, Giovani Geo they called him was rambunctious toddler. He always found trouble. Sophie missed the boy who held the hem of her dress, yanking it when they passed toy stores or sweet shops, pleading with innocent eyes for treats until she relented. She could not sleep or eat now; everything had changed in a day. There was a tube in his mouth, bandages around his head and electrodes on his broad chest.