Atavus (2 page)

“Yes, Nicolo, there is proof.” He grinned. “And many of those old gangsters’ legacies are their great grandchildren with aspirations of wealth. We have all benefitted from the illegal activities, some more than others and that will never cease.”

“You
ran
away because you didn’t want any part of it, remember?” Nico said sarcastically.

“Yes, but I was chased and reminded that I could not get away.”

“I guess we all have to come to terms with who we are, eventually. It took you 98 years, huh?”

“Yes, and I am spiritually cleansed knowing that I will not pass on anymore lies. Where I go in the afterlife is questionable. I wonder if I am to reunite with Madre Semira and papa.”

Nico rubbed his chin as he paced uncharacteristically, mumbling profanities in French in an effort to avoid offending the senior. The darn skeletons in closets were the reason for the Giacanti sorrows. “This proof, where is it? Have you written everything in your tell-all?”

“Yes. Proof is found by the astute. Until then enjoy the tales of my life. It is quite the adventure story.”

Nico shook his head furiously before he exclaimed, “Dammit, dammit, dammit, send me to hell and be done. This isn’t a game you old geezer!”

The old man chortled at Nico’s fatalistic expression. “Who is being theatrical now? Factual events are what I am passing to the future generation. I refrain from romanticizing about the self-interest of flawed people.”

“Nobody needs to know your version. What purpose will it serve?” Nico said with a long frown.

“Our talk has concluded Nicolo Serano Giacanti.” Lips accustomed to women’s kisses then covered the straight white teeth.

Nico glared when the senior turned his back and without further assistance, ambulated capably to his room.

The shuffling feet faded. Nico’s ears tuned to the joyous sounds outdoors as the celebration escalated. The family was in good spirits, kicking back relaxing for a change and now Alfonzo would have more burdens that he didn’t need. For crying out loud, did Alfonzo truly need to know?

The children were fast asleep, dreaming of charmed things. Nico scanned the shadowed walls, checking that the hired security remained diligent. Alfonzo’s guards were large in stature, brutish types paid to do their jobs. However, Nico sensed their fear in his presence. Maybe, they wondered if the horrid tales were embellishments. In the darkness of the mind is an icy cavern many people need winter gear to visit. Yet, Nico walked naked immune to the frost. Sane people didn’t need every detail, just as the family didn’t need more worries caused by an elderly defector’s confession. A butcher’s protégé and son of a lunatic cannot fake empathy for strangers. They are viewed as potential threats. His heart flame lit only for family.

Nico removed a beer bottle from the fridge, no longer interested in his own musings. He eyeballed the nervous bodyguard beyond the door and twisted hard on the metal cap. Nico flicked it in the trash and languidly drank. A bead of sweat appeared on the guard’s rough skin, sliding down his sideburn like the brew flushing down Nico’s esophagus.

He wondered about these fears that manifest within people. Anxious jitters, stutters and darting eyes were visible signs of discomfort. Control the fear is what The Butcher taught Nico and use the insidious emotion as fighting energy, the alternative was flight. He trained his reflexes to choose the latter option in lieu of running, which he considered a coward’s course.  

“Relax!” Nico scowled at the person before exiting to join in the festivities.

Giuseppe operated the grill –typical his cugino would rise to eat. Then Nico passed the hammock where Alfonzo reclined with Selange between his legs reading aloud from the dictionary size journal. Alfonzo glanced in his direction in silent examination. The long male lashes were then curtained. The ocean hued irises appeared at rest. However, Nico felt the intensity of Alfonzo’s gaze as he passed and he guzzled the beer to avoid speech.

Nico considered seizing the book out of Selange’s hand to toss in the pit. Instead, he sank beside Ari who talked on her cell.

“It’s great you’ve settled in. Yes, Nico said hello but he has to work. I’m bringing the children and Darren’s girlfriend.” She smiled at her husband and lit a bonfire in his heart. He had purchased a home under an alias for her parents in Hartford, completely remodeled with security features that ensured they remained protected and he supposed they were ecstatic with all the gadgets. “Yes, I’ll tell him. He’s very very sad he’s going to miss the anniversary party as well.” She exaggerated.

Nico shrugged. Her parents wouldn’t miss him with all the kids running around their new home, if anything they’ll have their hands full with the hooligans and want to kick them out. However, he’d miss them. Yes, he had grown accustomed to breakfast with his daughter at dawn. Papa and Semira time, he called their bonding sessions. They had this ritual, you know. He fed her real Italian sausages, fruit and delicate bread. She’d giggle and then they’d play around in the art studio with paint. This was one of the highlights of being around his family. At home, he wasn’t preoccupied with the business of killing.

He figured he might manage for a short period in their absence. Without their presence, he was a dangerous species, a predatory man.  

Ari hung up and he folded her into a warm hug. “You look good sweetheart.”

“You do, too.”

“Look, you have nothing to worry about. I will be on my best behavior. If you don’t trust me, then leave the boys and take Semira and Anna. I won’t murder them.”

“Nope, my parents want everybody there. You get a free pass because my mom is too charmed by your sexy butt to fuss about your absence, especially since you bought a nice house as a gift.”

Ari’s mom had mentioned a home she saw once out in Connecticut with a large yard and this beautiful gazebo surrounded by cherry trees. He had to do a lot of searching but he had located a similar property and arranged to have cherry trees planted. The present was also an additional safety measure for his family. Now that Ari could travel home without legal impediments, he wanted to make sure nobody knew where her parents resided.

He nodded. “Hey, I apologize for what I said earlier.”

“No, I shouldn’t have given you an ultimatum. It’s your child; I understand you'll want to visit. I just don’t trust the baby’s mama.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Before I might have said no, but now the answer is yes.”

“Ari I made you a promise. I didn’t do that because you forced me to, I did it because I love you and the kids. I’m not having you walk out on me over any woman –ever again, capisce?”

“Just make sure that bitch understands she doesn’t have any claims on you because you have a child together.”

“There’s no need for that conversation. Action is the nonverbal language I’m best at.”

Giuseppe turned over a steak. Nicole said something and he put aside the utensil to remove his shirt. He patted his abs and wifey laughed. Guess she made a comment about his nonexistent gut. The way his cugino ate, he should be a blimp. Where his brother was svelte and cut, Giuseppe was broad with muscles and an arrogant prick. Lately, he had simmered down, not much, but enough for Nico to believe the butthead was finally happy.

Ari rubbed his wrist. “Okay, anyway somebody’s birthday is coming.”

Nico put aside ruminations to lie back, holding his woman. “Yeah, whose?”

“Seriously?”

Nico listened to the splashing of the sea and the background chatter. A reminder of the day he was born wasn’t required. He hadn’t done much over the years after Vincent’s death. They often celebrated over drinks, clinking their glasses and muttering, “To the man in the mirror.”

Maybe, Ari failed to understand how shitty that day was for him. Frankly, he’d rather forget. He preferred to simply hold his woman and enjoy the happy right now moment. These kinds of instances are keepsakes for the spirit.

Later, an African night brought peaceful union between couples.

A Giacanti far beyond his prime heard the creaking of beds, and moans of pleasure to which he often partook in limber days. He smiled in the dark hours, hopeful and eager for another sort of union with family he hadn’t seen in ages.

Morning arrived and he slumbered on.

A worn book sat atop a nightstand close to a couple. They rose unaware its scribe had expired in the next room or that he had listened to their lovemaking. The sounds were music when he had drifted to the afterlife. He had enjoyed the company of family and died of old age without scars from bullets.

Chapter One

I can’t get up.

I can’t get up.

I can’t get up.

The repetitious thought played like a hook to a song.

This was their ending, a fucking tragedy after short years of dodging death until their luck ran out.

Blood poured from his wife's lips; ruby red lipstick heated plasma seeping into the ground. Let the children not hear the rattling sounds; let our spirits go before we're found, Alfonzo prayed because he didn't want to see mourning on the faces of the young.

A shaky hand slid across the grass to the fingers of his beloved –Selange. Do or die, the three words were eerily profound.

“Te amo, neña…te amo esposa…gracias for this beautiful life.” Alfonzo croaked in Spanglish as he’d done many times uptown, in the playgrounds and with concrete people with disillusion plagued minds.

His eyes flicked to the sky, always to the sky they beseeched. Flat on his back, he could see the heavens teasing his ass. Bad as a boy, murderous as an adult, the likelihood of his acceptance was as slim as an infant applying for college and getting in.

He tried to kick, but the bullets had struck nerves. He was bleeding out, casually drifting with the flow, letting go of the fullness of living.

Alfonzo squeezed Selange’s lifeless fingers that grew cold and he heard the priest ask, “Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do,” he answered. “In death we will never part.”

Spasmodic grips to his flesh occurred, followed by tugs to his skin by unknown hands guiding him to that dark place for bad people with hell shrieks.

In the darkness, kilometers outside a villa, fate returned a loving couple to the dirt surrounded by brave corpses of soldiers.  Egyptian Kings and Queens were buried in their finery and cared for in the afterlife by loyal servants. Homage was the silence that settled over the solitary road, standing witness with the executioners to the demise of a Kingpin hustler and his Queen Selange.

“
Al…ouch…Al…wake up
!” Selange screamed as Alfonzo thrashed around the bed, mumbling her name as if she was dead, clutching her hands and then smothering her with his bulk until her chest ached. “
Oww…you’re crushing me!”

She managed to free her hands and slapped at his face until Alfonzo’s bloodshot eyes flew open. They glistened like washed marbles, his heart raced when he realized Selange was pinned by his body weight. He scrambled upright as if he’d risen from a bed of worms. The chiseled torso heaved, animating the body art on the muscle skin. He shimmered from sweat. An invisible chill brought a shiver to his interior at the mere thought of Selange dying that way.

“Shit, ah shit babe, lo siento –lo siento!” He exclaimed after coming back to the earth. He considered going for a drink.

“Al…what the heck? Are you okay?” Selange inquired in a buttery voice that also quivered.

He rubbed his eyes with his fists, groaning. Despite the attempt to maintain her composure, those eyes said he had scared her shitless. “Ah man babe, come here,” he said and waited until she slid up to hug her tight. “Are you alright?”

Selange squinted as she looked sideways and up. “I’m fine, what about you?”

Alfonzo sighed. He’d never divulge the details of the dream; she might worry –as usual.

“Just a bad dream.” He chuckled. “Like we say to the kids.”

Selange didn’t smile. Of course, Alfonzo experienced bad dreams, taking lives affects people with a conscience. Ever since they returned from Africa, Alfonzo seemed to have more of them. Then again, they began prior to the funeral. Yes, when he returned from that business trip, he had one then.

“What did you dream about?”

Alfonzo waved his hand and yawned. “I don’t remember.”

“You mean you’re not telling me, huh?” She snuggled closer. “It’s okay, keep your secrets. I can share my nightmare. I’m superstitious. They say when you talk about bad dreams when you’re awake, nothing will happen.”

He wanted to laugh instead Alfonzo gazed downward. Why did she look so hot, even with those ugly flexible rollers in her hair?  That innocent face hadn’t changed much, but he could see the stresses slowly dulling the compassionate eyes. He cringed at the thought of Teresa's treachery. She deserved more than death for working with the police.

Selange, geez…lo siento neña I have you in a mess. Yet you hold me down and make this shit normal for me and the children.