Avarice (10 page)

“Sophie’s the hardest to buy something for. What do you buy someone who has everything?” Shanda questioned over the phone.

“I haven’t figured that one out either. A token of appreciation of some kind I guess works.”

“Hell, if they still sold tokens for subways I’d tell you to send me some and then wrap that shit up and say here Mrs. Dichenzo.”

Selange laughed. “Oh you’re bad and cheap!”

“Aren’t tokens antiques, they’re not cheap at all?”

“You may be right.”

Shanda asked. “So what did you get big-head?”

“None of your business.”

“Oh, it’s like that. I’ll tell you what I bought Giuseppe.”

“You can share if you want.”

“Nothing. That asshole keeps sending me bills for the car. He’ll be lucky if he gets a card from me.”

“Don’t worry about the car. He never paid for breaking that bed, hell he has a lot of nerve.”

“Doesn’t he?”

“What about your parents, are you sending them gifts?”

“I did. A
framed picture of me and Carlo.”

“They’ll love it.”

“They better, he is their grandson.”

“I’m sure they will.”

“Sophie loves art. She also collects vases. I haven’t seen an oriental one in her house.”

“
Okay, sounds like a plan. Go back to your stretching and contortions. I’m sure big-head appreciates it.”

“Stop calling him that.”

“Make me.”

“I’ll just withhold your awesome present from you.”

“Okay…let’s not get hasty.”

***

Shanda traveled though this area many times. The view of
Quattro Canti on Maqueda Street and the San Domenico Church at Pretoria Square had become like seeing the bodega on the corner. It’s a manmade mainstay in the landscape and unless you had to venture inside, you didn’t care. Santa Caterina Church is where Sophie had suggested she consider for her wedding to Giuseppe before she called off the entire affair. No sense in spending money on dresses, limos and fairytale bullshit when Prince Charming was a whore in pants. It wouldn’t last, they’d get divorced for sure because Giuseppe was certain to show his ass. What nerve thinking she’d flip-flop on the decision when it’s obvious he wasn’t sincere. Who in the hell cared about all that Don this and Don that crap?

She pushed Carlo in the stroller flanked by the ever present bodyguards who looked bored as hell while she window shopped undecided on a gift for Sophie who had every goddamn thing except a man. Maybe she should hook the woman up with one of those handsome older guys seen lingering near the piazza, puffing like the cold didn’t exist. Hell, in New York they called it loitering but in Sicily that’s what people did.

Sophie had begun decorating the villa since the eighth of December with nativity scenes. She’d taken Shanda and Carlo to Custonaci, an island between Trapani and San Vito lo Capo to see the Presepe Vivente. It was a magnificent nativity scene where many traveled from all across Italy to view. Sophie went into detail about how the locals dress up and re-enact the Nativity from twenty-fifth of December to Epiphany. Then she went on and on like older women do who talk like younger women require history lessons on every goddamn thing. Who the hell cares about some small towns in the Madonie mountains where on December 24
th
the night of the Luminari large bonfires are lit to keep baby Jesus warm when she planned to have Carlo’s butt tucked in bed?

Sophie meant well, but sometimes she got things twisted. She wasn’t flying nowhere on Christmas Eve to stand outdoors in the cold at night with her kid.

She hastened her steps as the hour grew late and entered a cutesy boutique with surprisingly high end merchandise where she spotted a gorgeous Japanese vase Sophie would love. The clerk smiled when she entered and would’ve struck up a lengthy conversation if Shanda hadn’t pointed to what she wanted and hastily paid and then made her escape. Sicilians are lovely people but whew they could talk. Conversational Sicilian is all she knew, and presently she wasn’t in a chatty mood. She didn’t want to do all that squinting and mess as she tried to figure out what the hell the person said, it’ll only give her a headache, besides Carlo had fallen asleep and she wanted to get him home was the excuse for her sour disposition. Truth was, she wanted to get laid but the prospects were shitty. Not because there weren’t fine ass men in Palermo, un-unh, there were plenty. The likelihood of Giuseppe’s soldiers ratting to their boss was the problem. She didn’t want to risk some poor dude getting killed by Giuseppe’s crazy ass in the middle of fucking!

“Aaarrgghhh!” she growled under her breath. She hated where her mind wandered; she hated her vagina dictated deception.

The bodyguards guided her and Carlo to the car, flanking her like bookends. They reeked of testosterone, which was too close for comfort for a woman with sex on the brain. She unbuckled Carlo from the stroller and put him safely in the car as one of the guards secured the stroller and the other her fragile gift in the front seat.

Shanda had her ass perched to sit when a woman approached swathed in fur. This was an aristocratic woman with pounds of overindulgence attached to her regal stature. By her side was a man with fierce eyes the color of green marble. Large hands were shoved in the pockets of the black wool coat and something about
him gave Shanda the chills. The guards were quick to intercept the pair before they reached the car. With guns discreetly drawn, one of Shanda’s guards addressed the woman. “Signora Calbrese, che cos'è che vuoi?”

“
Voglio solo dire ciao al bambino e la madre.”

The guard with the woman had yet to blink.

“Mi dispiace, signora Calbrese, il tuo ciao deve essere fatto lì.”

Damn, Shanda thought as she wrecked her brain for the English translation, but the matronly woman with smiling innocence solved the problem by answering in English. “Relax, if I must say hello from here then that I will do. I will call Sophie to discuss what reason she lacks trusts…but that is neither here nor there at the moment,” Signora Calbrese said before looking directly at Shanda who had yet to close the door. “Ciao.”

“Ciao,” Shanda replied.

“The bambino has grown sí?”

“Sí.”

“Carlo is a wonderful name.”

“Grazie.” Shanda nodded, while wondering who this woman that had armed men on edge was. Then the name Calbrese registered, she had called to place an order and Sophie said something to the effect of, “No, we do not want her business.” Shanda hadn’t asked questions for fear Sophie would begin a long diatribe, but now she wished she had.

“My daughter Geovonna loved bambini.”

Okay, Shanda thought, this is getting creepy. The driver called to the guards and they backed away to enter the car. Shanda scooted over for one of them and the door closed just as Signora Calbrese waved bye with a strange smile that never reached her eyes.

What the fuck
was that about?

***

  Giuseppe answered his cell when he noticed its origin. A sly smile transformed his stern face. “Cosa?”

“I need to talk to you about this bill.”

“But there is nothing to discuss bella,” he said walking around the low table in the living room with Gee following on his heels.

“I’m rolling up to your door right now. There’s a whole lot to discuss if you think I’m paying this!”

When she hung up Giuseppe howled. Ah, the game of women. How amateur. He walked to the door, swung it open and leaned against the frame until the car in which Shanda arrived in halted under the security lighting. He pushed off the wood and stepped atop the cold smooth stones with natural mosaics. The translucent snow had become watery and the ribbed socks clung to his feet. “Buongiorno donna!”

She marched past and entered the house with a grunt. He did not follow immediately; Shanda’s bodyguard had sought his attention to inform Giuseppe about the exchange with Signora Calbrese. “Grazie,” he replied. After the death of Geovonna and the disappearance of her son, Signora Calbrese had become somewhat of a recluse. The rumor is she prayed each night and lit candles wishing for her son’s return, but of course he would not.
Alfonzo had ensured the scum was fish bait and the likelihood of a resurrection was nonexistent.

A parent’s mourning lasts a lifetime. If he had sympathy for the woman, it would be he could not give her death and end her imprisonment of sorrow. She was the daughter of a former Capo with a ruthless reputation. She was of their lot, yet behaved as if she were not.

Giuseppe looked at the sky. Swirls of thick gray smoke flew slowly by a bright fluorescent moon. Perhaps there was a trick that occurred to the eyes because the moon seemed to turn and present a side view. Why in this moment did he think of his fratellino? Something in his voice besides illness was there when they spoke today. What trouble lay on Alfonzo as always that could not be taken away?

Alfonzo stressed too much about concerns he could not change. The iridescent light high above was untouchable by lowly men.  It sat to rule until the sun shouldered in or space shuttle landed, but the astronauts could not breathe the air for the gases and wore protective gear filled with oxygen.

Alfonzo was like the moon. Many wanted to venture there, but not many would survive the noxious air. He teased his fratellino often about the position, but in truth, he never wanted it and neither did the man who raised him. Troublesome is the man who holds the seat and wears a ring others want to chop from his hand. He was what Carlo was to Luzo, the swordsman.

Only the cold ushered Giuseppe indoors or else he may have stood in observation of the firmament until dawn with a wrinkled brow. A somberness he hadn’t felt before held him there too long. Such heaviness is not what he was accustomed to or this black mood when he thought of his brother. It was as if death touched him for a moment and then sought another prey. He did not like this feeling or the knowledge that Alfonzo was across the sea. A concerned elder sibling decided then he needed to leave in the morning and check on Alfonzo’s health.

Giuseppe closed the door, Shanda ceased stroking and talking to the dog upon his entry. Giuseppe removed the wet socks, tossing them to a seat. He glanced at his watch; he had made plans for the night but cancelled them without a phone call in his head. Shanda’s unexpected arrival had opened possibilities. “Have dinner with me bella.”

“No thanks. I’ve already eaten.”

She looked very lovely in the winter white coat and knee length boots. He strode forward, unbuttoned her outer coat and boldly pressed a palm to her slightly round belly. “You must eat for two.”

“I am, believe me. Anyway,” she began, “I’m not here to discuss food. Don’t you think the repair bill is exorbitant?”

“That is the cost to fix your vandalism.”

“You’re serious.”

“I do not kid about this bella.” He shrugged. “There are others way to make payment if you cannot afford to settle in cash.”

“Well, hold your breath big guy because I’m not paying you a damn cent with paper or flesh.”

Giuseppe appeared unfazed by the declaration. Instead his palm circled her stomach. He crouched to taste her lips, making them part with the invasion of his tongue and made her eat the bold statement. Arms went about his neck. She moaned and caused Gee to whimper and curl in a ball near the door.

Suddenly Shanda pulled away. “Okay, nope we’re not going there.”

Arms went in the air. “Perdóname, I will not touch you again mother of my children.”

This response shocked her, but she didn’t let on. “Okay, good. The bill is yours to keep.”

He chuckled. “No, you must learn to pay your debts bella or else you will believe others will cover them because you are pretty.”

Shanda watched as he headed for the stairs without a backward glance. “Where are you going?”

“I have a dinner date. Our conversation is over. Ciao!”

What? Shanda stood transfixed. Oh no he didn’t!

She tossed her coat on the sofa and went after the arrogant father of her children. She’d come to have sex. Scrap the games; she was getting some dick without strings attached, after-all it’s not like she could get pregnant.

Giuseppe had his trousers off, his firm ass calling her like candy as he removed a suit from the huge closet they previously
shared. He heard her; of course he did but continued about his business as if she weren’t there.

“Oh cut it out!” she said when he sat to don clean socks and change his underwear.

“Cosa?”

“Cosa my ass!” she shrieked before walking to the bed. She became the aggressor and kissed him down to the mattress without a care.

His mouth opened; damn did it open and swallow her in. Those deft fingers stripping her out of her dress they kissed moved with speed. So did hers, yanking down his shorts, ripping them with her nails to get his dick free.  Their moans and groans were equal in volume because each wanted to consummate the minute they kissed.