Authors: S. W. Frank
Tags: #Drama, #American, #African American
Shanda crossed her arms over her lace covered breasts. “You’re damn right.”
“I do not want you to go. Stay.”
“You’re lying. The only reason you want me here is to be near the baby.”
“That is not entirely correct. I have grown fond of you, too donna.”
“Yeah right. If you were you wouldn’t be out fucking other women now would you?”
“I am not your husband. This is an arrangement, remember?”
She sucked in her breath. “You
me to come.”
“Sí, I did.”
“You don’t get it, do you?”
“I don’t know what it is you want. I bought you a very nice car. You have an expense account…donna...tell me what more can I give?”
When he talked like that she felt like trash. “You know good and damn well I’m not here for a car or your fucking money you sonovabitch!”
“Tell me why you are here Shanda?” Giuseppe stood in front of her and removed her arms from her breasts. He wanted to see them; they were scrumptious. She was beautiful and his arousal came instantly. His finger traced the edge of her brassiere, touching skin as it traversed each breast. His eyes were on her face and he noticed desire. Despite her anger, she could not disguise the sexual attraction. “What will keep you at my side, daughter of the polizei?”
Shanda was about to speak but his mouth covered her lips and nostrils. She inhaled trying to breathe as he sucked the air from her lungs. She clung to his strong neck wanting more and feeling like such a wanton hypocrite for making resolutions she knew damn well she couldn’t keep.
When her head touched the bed, his body crushed her to the mattress and her nostrils flared at the faint odor of a very expensive woman’s perfume. Suddenly, Shanda found her dignity and pushed at his heavy chest. When he didn’t budge she bit his mouthwash tasting tongue.
Giuseppe groaned like an animal. He nibbled her lip mumbling, “You want rough?”
“No, I want you to stop!” she said and bit him harder.
This time he jerked away, holding his mouth open for air as a result of the pain. “You do not want my apology?”
“You don’t get to jump out of another woman’s bed into mine.”
“Technically, this is
bed,” he answered before gently touching his sore tongue to the roof of his gums.
Did he taste blood? Yes, his tongue bled
“Oh shut up.”
“You get upset when I say silence but you say shut-up twice and bite.” He seized her arms. His face hovered close to Shanda’s defiant one. He may have laughed if she did not look so serious. But he laid down one rule. “Never strike me in anger, capisce?”
Shanda exhaled. She wasn’t afraid of him. “Okay, I’ll strike you when I’m
angry with a frying pan.”
“Never threaten donna. I strike with triple force.”
“So you beat women?”
“Only when they’re naughty.”
His eyes were mischievous. He always had the same look when he wanted to fuck. Except this morning she wasn’t having it. His charm didn’t work. “Did you wear a rubber when you stuck your dick in another woman’s
His hands relaxed their hold. They were fighting the same beast. But, Giuseppe would not show his hand, once he did she‘d wield her power and he’d become unable to ward off love’s blows. No, he would stand firm. He wanted her to stay, yet she had to accept who he was. He sighed, he hadn’t done anything terrible. He was after-all unmarried.
Besides, Alanda had her menstruation which happened to be a major turn-off for Giuseppe. He never stuck his dick in bloody
. But, that did not mean Alanda could not please him in other ways. He responded truthfully, “No, I did not wear a rubber, donna, is it a law, because I do not follow the law?”
!” She growled.
Suddenly, the baby began to cry. The dog joined in with loud barks which cut their conversation right there. They were simultaneously on their feet in a sprint, one half-clothed and the other naked in a race through the hall. They tried to enter the nursery together and found themselves wedged hip to waist in the doorway.
“I have the boy,” Giuseppe stated to the mother.
“That’s okay, thanks but mama got this big papa.”
They must’ve looked a frightening sight to the baby because the infant wailed pitifully as Gee barked at their heels. Shanda scraped her arm on the door frame to get loose, but Giuseppe managed to get free first. It took four long strides for Giuseppe to reach the crib and it took Shanda eight.
He claimed possession of the baby and rocked the boy in his arms in consolation. “Do not cry, papa is home.”
The man was stark naked. Carlo didn’t want meaningless talk, he wanted goddamn milk. She looked up from Giuseppe’s private parts to the dark Sicilian’s ocean colored eyes. “I have to feed him Giuseppe, now give him here and take a shower. There’s no telling where your nasty ass fingers were and I don’t want Carlo contaminated.”
The blue eyes sparkled. “Your mama is jealous.”
“I am not. Give me my baby,” she fumed and thrust out her arms for her son.
“First say you will stay.”
“No. Now stop playing around, give me Carlo!”
“Then I will hold him until you promise not to go.”
“Your arms are going to fall off, then.”
Giuseppe feigned a pout to mimic Shanda’s petulant face. Was she on the verge of tears? “Ah, my bella cries.”
Shanda crossed her arms. “This isn’t funny. You’re using our son to blackmail me.”
This he found hilarious and gave her the baby. He missed Shanda’s sly grin once he put the infant in her arms. “Please take the baby, feed him and do not shed waterfalls.”
“Thank you,” she replied as she put the hungry infant to her breast.
Giuseppe made sucking noises with his mouth as she walked to her soft seat to continue feeding. He stopped when Shanda flashed him an angry look. “Who’s being an ass now Geo?”
He chuckled. The woman was growing on him every day. Watching her breastfeed made him want milk, too. But, he would wait. He walked over and kneeled. “Promise you’ll stay bella and not run again.”
“You can see the baby any time you want if I move out. We don’t have to live together to raise Carlo. Besides, it’s apparent I’m cramping your style?”
“I like your company.”
“Keep Gee, he likes you.”
“I like your food.”
“Hire a whore who likes to cook.”
“I like Shanda.”
“I don’t like being treated like a fool or a slut.”
“You are far from a fool or slut, bella.”
“It’s what you’re playing me for if you believe you’re going to screw me and other women. I’m monogamous and you’re promiscuous.”
“That’s a lot of ‘ous’,” he said trying to lighten the mood. She didn’t smile. “I am who I am. I did not lie to you.”
She readjusted the infant’s head and his eyes went to the exposed mound of flesh as Carlo suckled. The horny man actually looked jealous of his son. Shanda rolled her eyes. Men!
Giuseppe rubbed his chin, contemplating the right words to say to convince the sexy woman to remain. “I am more than a sperm donor. I am a father who loves his son. You have given me a special gift and just as you bond with him, I also want time with Carlo, under the same roof, with his mother which is preferable to adequately protect you. Do not allow anger to deprive me of seeing Carlo every day and see him grow. I will you give money to buy anything you want if you stay.”
Shanda rolled her eyes, again at the sorry plea. He wanted to bond with Carlo, fine. However, their sexual bonding had come to an end. The coochie store had closed its doors to the pussy stealing Giuseppe. “Fine, I’ll stay a little longer and here are my
rules. One, you can’t bring women to the house for sex or sleep overs. Two, just like you have your independence, I have mine. Three, you have to get a nice comfy bed in here for me and four, the
shop is closed. I don’t want any killer disease from your stink ass. Carlo needs at least one of his parents around,
Giuseppe frowned. What? Had she gone insane? Her demands were unreasonable. How could he live under the same roof with her and not touch her intimately. Dumbfounded he bellowed, “
“You heard me. No more pussy from this hole. Don’t forget, what’s good for the goose is good for the gander.”
Cosa. That is blackmail. You fight with claws to kill me. Cosa
“Stop saying cosa. Those are my terms. Agree or I leave!”
Giuseppe grumbled and rose to his feet. He had not expected this arrangement to give him heart palpitations. Usually, women
to sleep in his bed, this woman wanted out of it. He could live with some of the terms, but the no micio rule was hard to swallow. Ah, cazzo!
He would agree. What choice did he have? Of course, he planned to change her mind. “I agree. I will have the bed in before notte!” he said crossly before marching from the baby’s room and slamming the door.
Nico lit his Behike cigar. From the confines of a nondescript vehicle outside Sergio’s apartment complex he watched for a particular automobile. Sergio’s car wasn’t hard to spot, a royal blue late model BMW with specialized license plates which read BALLERZ rolled right past and into the street. There wasn’t any reason to stay on the car’s tail; he’d already placed a tracker on it this morning. He watched the GPS screen and sucked on the sweet tobacco wondering why the hell he got this change of heart to check on Vincent’s messed up kid. Ari’s due date was fast approaching and he should be in Palermo with her, instead he sat in a car trying to do right by his dead brother. Guilt led him here. Vincent didn’t deserve to die the way he did. He couldn’t bring his brother back, but maybe he could save Sergio –maybe he could also save himself from the sudden attacks on his conscience that had crept up over the past few days.
He’d gotten rid of the Mohawk; Ari hated it, but kept the black diamond earring. He sported an army buzz cut with a wicked goatee. A renegade soldier is what he felt like, a veteran over forty trying to recapture the excitement of the old days during a ceasefire because he missed the action so much he took unnecessary risks to feel the thrill.
He was sticking his neck out for a wayward thief, con-man, belligerent piece of crap who was nothing like Vincent. His brother was crazy as hell when it came to the killing business but when he wasn’t doing jobs; he was level headed and downright smart. This spawn of Vincent’s was as slow as a slug and nothing but trouble. Nico felt obliged to have one last hoorah before he dropped the white flag and went home.
He started the engine when the GPS showed Sergio’s vehicle entered the highway going south. It didn’t take Nico long to hit the expressway, spot Sergio’s car switch into the fast lane without signaling and barrel down the expressway. The kid drove like most young adults; they speed and lack real driving skills. In addition, they were apt to get distracted, drive impaired with
friends and these all factored into why there’s a higher rate of vehicular fatalities among the youth.
With one hand on the wheel and the other pinching the cigar, he took a puff, exited at Kings Highway, curved around the circle and saw the BMW signaling left toward the park.
After about five minutes, Sergio’s car parked alongside the ball field where men geared up for a game of Cricket. The wickets gave it away as well as the flat bats. Sergio removed a gear bag from the trunk and a bat and scurried to where the men practiced. Nico laughed. “Ah man, he’s a cricketer!”
The European sport was popular in the islands. New York being the proverbial melting pot welcomed diversity even in sports. The game was extremely long and not one of Nico’s favorite past-times.
Nico checked his watch; ten o’clock on a Friday morning signified the kid probably lacked a job. The other men looked older, possibly retirees who enjoyed the past time. Now where Sergio fit in was simple. The senior’s wanted youth; Sergio was probably an all-around player or excellent bowler and they wanted him on their team. From what he learned about his nephew, he was probably getting paid, otherwise he wouldn’t waste his time.
Sergio engaged in what’s considered a gentleman’s sport seemed too strange. The snot was far from mannerly or a team player.
“Heck, I hope this doesn’t last the entire day!” Nico sneered.
Sitting in a car watching a game of Cricket wasn’t his idea of leisure. He’d rather Windsurf in Maui or ride his bike through France. Hell, he’d even sit in a rented apartment in Venice overlooking the canal sketching the landscape, getting in touch with the boy who secretly wished to be an artist.