Animus (8 page)

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Authors: S. W. Frank

Tags: #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers & Suspense, #Crime, #Romance, #Multicultural, #Romantic Suspense, #Thrillers, #Multicultural & Interracial, #Mystery & Suspense, #Suspense

BOOK: Animus
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Sal perked up at his dad’s more congenial tone. He liked this version better. “Allie’s sick and Angelia is really bad. Vincent is the sleepy one and Anita cooked some nasty stuff…”

Maria rubbed her grandson’s arm smiling, her eyes closed wearily as the boy talked and talked. Sal’s words began to string together and soon the noise disappeared. Heaviness sucked at her and she gave in. Gentle snores mingled with the relief and excitement of a growing boy.

 

 

~ ~

 

 

“What’s this a convention?” Alfonzo asked his manager Matt when he entered with Tony
.

The shiny whites gleamed. “Heck, I thought you might want to see some familiar faces during your recuperation,” Matt answered. He placed a bag filled with fruit on a nightstand cluttered with cards and flowers after noticing Alfonzo’s tray heavily laden with gourmet food. Apparently, the boss
received the 5-star treatment. He wore a blue robe with a white lapel and his slippered feet were crossed at the ankles. The Boss appeared comfortable and at home. “I see you’re being taken care of.”

Alfonzo’s mouth tugged in a frown. “I’m making do.” He looked at Tony. “Did Matt kidnap you or something?”

Tony put his hands in his pockets as he stood at the foot of the bed. It was a relief to see the Boss alive and talking. “No, I wanted to come.”

“Ass-kissing is not part of your job description, y’know.”

Tony liked his Boss. “Not what you’ll find me doing.”

“Good because I can’t stand ass-kissers.”

Matt swooped in. “Yeah…yeah…yeah. So, how’s the missus?”

“Pissed she’s away from the
children, but overall she’s doing okay.”

Tony observed the lavish surroundings. The patient
rested on an over-size bed loaded with pillows. The decorative linen is the kind you find in a nice home. There was even a sitting area with a sofa and a dresser, believe it? He hadn’t seen a hospital suite like this, ever. Yup, money and clout always bought the best.

There was a knock on the door and a man entered. He walked to Alfonzo and whispered in his ear. The blue eyes narrowed, and the Boss said something in another language and the man exited. Tony noticed the flickering lights in the cobalt irises. There was something going down. The Boss wasn’t as obvious as Chip; he didn’t display any of Chip’s mannerisms. No, this guy was the composed calculative sort who could change from ice to heat and you wouldn’t know it.

Tony thought about what his woman said. Tiffany was right about one thing; he really didn’t know Alfonzo Diaz but what he did glimpse of the mafia lord he hadn’t come across in many men. Fierce honorable leaders were a dying breed.

Matt was given a dictation to impart to the employees and instructed to have the secretary type
it out and forward to his companies. They were about to leave when Alfonzo asked for a moment alone with Tony. The manager exited and Alfonzo’s eyes bore into Tony’s. “You’re not satisfied with a desk position, am I right?”

“The job is fine. I like it.”

A knowing smirk from ignited the blue gems. “Don’t bull-shit me Tony. When I ask a question, answer with the truth, that’s rule number one or you’ll lose credibility.”

Tony nodded. “It’s an adjustment. I’m used to night hours and
not sitting at a cubicle, it’s constraining.”

“You did it before. I thought you might want to have your old life back…normalcy for the lady in your life.”

The mention of the past brought a distasteful tug to Tony’s mouth. “I can’t go back to what was.”

“You have to understand something. I’m not
hing like your former employer. I gave you a chance at clean work for decent pay and you’re looking to get dirty. Tell me, why are you eager to dive into a hell pit when you have a chance at earthly redemption?”

“I’m not seeking earthly redemption Mr. Diaz and those pits you talk about, the old me got scorched there.
I’m a man who needs fire to balance the air I breathe, like you.”

The words struck a nerve in Alfonzo and his eyes turned into serpentine slits. “No man walks unscathed where we come from hombre. Working a nine-to-five, doing things by the book for people of color doesn’t equate to a hassle free
existence. The only things we have in common Tony is we suck in the same air and have dicks.”

“I disagree.”

Alfonzo’s eyebrow rose sharply. “Why is that?”

“We’re doing
what we do for a common purpose, and it isn’t all about money.”

“That doesn’t make our struggles the same.”

“You’re a realist and so am I.”

“You know nothing about my philosophy.”

“We’re both trapped in a society where rules are lifted when a man’s color is paper but used to incarcerate when it’s bark.”

Alfonzo’s gaze remained level. “Being pissed at the system is your cross, not mine. There are many differences between us Tony, personally I don’t give a shit about the
system
it doesn’t mentally cage me.”

Tony didn’t break eye contact.
The Boss tested men daily, examining their weaknesses, flushing out only the strong. Had Tony faltered or delivered an incoherent response, Alfonzo would have officially closed opportunity’s door. “Spending time in a pit puts an internal mirror to the soul. The guy I tried to be isn’t who I was.”

“Plenty of people doing time have life-changing epiphanies. There’s nothing special in self-reflection when looking at cell-blocks. Some find religion and others turn out worse than before. Big fucking deal!”

“Except in my case, I stopped pretending. I’ve accepted who I am and refuse to be caged anymore.”  

Alfonzo stroked the prickly stubble forming on his chin. He was undecided about Tony. Words are letters put together. Many eloquent speakers dazzled the masses. Alfonzo wasn’t a fool, actions far outweighed dribble. “Tell you what Tony, go back to work at that cubicle, be on time every day and assimilate to the nine-to-five and I’ll get back to you.”

“I can do that.”

“Bueno. I expect you on that plane with Matt this afternoon, comprende?”

“No problem.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER EIGHT

 

 

 

The visitor coming through the door received a warm welcome by way of a smile and his name exclaimed, “Tyree!”

Tyree walked to his mentor’s bedside and hugged her gently. He put his face in her neck and closed his eyes at the surging emotions rising to the surface. “You’re okay…thank God…you’re okay Mrs. Diaz.”

Her chin was on his shoulder and a hand rubbed his back. A spiritual sister comforting a worried brother is the innocent sight. “I’m okay, it’s good to see
you Tyree, and I’m fine.”

He pulled back and thoroughly examined her with his eyes. “Were you shot?”

“No.”

“Do you mind if I review your chart?”

“Go right ahead Dr. Davis.”

He found it and didn’t bother to sit as he read the medical reports, tests and daily notes. He didn’t need to understand Italian, most of the diagnostic tools; forms and abbreviations were universally the same. He saw she had surgery to remove a tubal pregnancy, an orbital contusion due to blunt trauma and no secondary findings. He flipped up a sheet and squinted to read the medical doctors’ comments. Unremarkable it showed after the morning exam. “You’re getting released tomorrow.”

“Um-hum.”

He returned the chart and flopped in the chair. Ah, he felt so much better. “I couldn’t get here fast enough. The flight seemed forever.”

“Aw it’s really nice to see you but you shouldn’t have come all this way Tyree. What about your residency?”

“I took an emergency leave. It’s not a problem.”

The smile was brilliant. “And the fiancée, where is she?”

“Home.”

“I’m invited to the wedding, right?”

“Of course.” He grinned. Then he sat straight. “How is Mr. Diaz?”

“He’s doing better.”

“Is he in ICU?”

“No, he’s stable. He’s right across if you want to say hello.”

The words hadn’t hung in the air for longer than a minute when Alfonzo entered accompanied by an IV pole. “What’s up Tyree?”

Tyree stood immediately. “How are you Mr. Diaz?”

“Asi-asi.” The inquisitive eyes went from his wife to the tall young man who wore a nervous expression. He put Tyree at ease. “It’s nice you’d travel here to check on my wife doctor, but she’s in excellent hands.”

“I…I…um had to see for myself. The news was that a lot of people were killed and…”

“They usually exaggerate, you know that.”

“Yeah, but…”

“But, you wanted to see for yourself.” Alfonzo completed the sentence. He’d dropped his guard once and twice wasn’t happening. He believed in Selange, damn straight but he had to put every motherfucker on notice, step out of line and I won’t care who you are, I’ll slice your goddamn neck!

Selange gave him one of her looks instructing him to play nice. Nah, Tyree wasn’t a kid anymore, he was an adult and he had a dick. “Come walk with me Doc,” Alfonzo ordered.

Tyree followed Alfonzo out the door and Selange shook her head. She hoped Alfonzo didn’t intimidate Tyree. Poor guy! Anyway, she didn’t have time to worry about it, because another set of visitors streamed in with flowers and lipstick smiles. Her girls were here. Amelda, Lucia, Crystalia and Renalda, whose husband was wounded but survived with nothing more than a broken leg from a fall down the stairs converged upon her bed and began their fussing, pulling out brushes and commenting on how they came to cheer her up and fix her hair.

Selange accepted their trivialities, aware this was their coping mechanism to bring normalcy after the chaos, yet her mind wandered to the dead and she prayed for Giuseppe and her confused friend.

 

 

~ ~

 

 

 

“So, how’s the medical field treating you Tyree?” Alfonzo asked as they rode the elevator up one floor.

Tyree concealed his nervousness. Alfonzo was a tall strapping dude, and imposing. It didn’t help he was flanked by equally fearsome men who could snap a man’s neck with little effort. “It’s good, sir.”

“Sir
.” Alfonzo gave a sneer type grin. “Shit am I that old?”

“No, sir…I mean Mr. Diaz.”

A cling signaled the door’s opening. “Relax; I’m not going to kick your ass or anything unless you behave inappropriately toward my wife.”

Tyree stayed in step as Mr. Diaz exited, maneuvering the rolling IV poll with
out getting the tubing tangled or twisted. The hospital tag with his name was a plastic bracelet on his thick wrist. The white stood out against the gold hued skin. He held himself stiffly, which Tyree suspected was due to his wounds, possibly a fracture. The bandage on his neck probably covered the site of a penetrating wound. The way he held his arm, he’d gotten hurt there as well. “No…no…way. I’m engaged. I’d never disrespect you or her, sir.”

“Good to know you have scruples. A lot of guys don’t.”

They passed nurses and doctors with anxious expressions. “Buongiorno Signore Diaz.”

Alfonzo gave curt tilts. His mannerisms
were respectful although Tyree had a feeling he hated hospitals and being confined as a patient irritated him even more.  He was a man accustomed to freedom and idleness even out of necessity stirred a volatile temper hidden beneath civility. They entered a patient’s room who quickly sat forward. The swaddles of bandages on his head and the cast on his leg did not deter him from greeting Alfonzo with deference. “Benvenuto, è un onore Don Giacanti.”

“Buongiorno Don
Tomasina, cómo stai?”

“Buono. Grazie,” the patient answered.

Alfonzo ambled to the patient’s bedside, placed his hand upon the rail. A subtle action, certainly many visitor’s had done, except how many had their ring kissed?

Tyree paid careful attention to their interaction. Finding aside from the ceremonial greeting toward someone of Mr. Diaz
’ stature, there wasn’t any other resemblance to stereotypical mobsters on TV. He hadn’t heard any, “Hey paisan,” or any such talk. Tyree deliberated whether some white folks felt this way when they observed regular black people whose conversations weren’t littered with slang or so-called Ebonics. He wondered if that’s why he often received offensive comments considered platitudes by some such as, “You speak very well,” or “You don’t sound black.”

His response to the ignorance
, “I speak English,” and “I didn’t know black was a language.”

The observation continued. The
bodyguards could easily double as the security for a celebrity or any high profile person. Politicians and high-ranking officials had drivers and armed men all the time, nothing criminal in that, right? A rich businessman could afford to have the same security; frankly, it’s a pretty smart idea considering they’re rich. Anyway, up close these men were just a bunch of guys, discussing family, food, and sports and joking like everyone else. Soon, Alfonzo promised to send wine and said good-bye to the patient and they departed.

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