Chocolate and Italian Wine (Music and Mayhem Book 1) (10 page)

Ray was fired up. “Yeah, I saw that shit. Ain’t nothing to it. Just the press looking to make a story, as usual,” he answered, pissed.  

“I don’t know, man. A couple of guys I know were there last night, and said they were just about screwing on the dance floor. Left together with his hand on her ass,” Tony informed him, loving to dish the gossip.

Ray sensed his enjoyment and he would have pummeled him if he had been right in front of him. “Whatever, man. I got better shit to do than to trip on what Karisma’s ass is up to.”

              “I heard somethin’ about that dude from some of my boys. Seems the mu’fucka’s family has the weed in Cali sewn up,” Tony said. 

              “What the fuck you mean? He slingin’?” Ray asked his friend. 

Tony sucked his teeth loudly. “More than that, man. Mu’fucka’s mobbed up. They got a billion dollar empire in the shit,” Tony continued.

“Say what? The mob? You mean the Mafia? I met that pretty muthafucka the other night. He said he bought FutureShock,” Ray said.

“Yeah, well, they got farms from here to Canada. Big time.”

“He was all up on Kari at the Goldust Grammy party,” Ray remarked. Then he said, “Fuck Karisma. She can do what the fuck she wants. She wanna hang with a dude like that, I don’t give a shit,” Ray said. Of course, he didn’t feel what he spoke. Changing the subject, he asked, “What you got up for the day?” 

“In the studio, homie,” Tony said. 

“Yeah, I got meetings all day, myself. Working out the details on that show I told you about,” Ray said, trying not to think of Kari and the pretty mobster.

“That’s what’s up. So you wanna be a TV star, huh? Cool. I’ma let you get at it then, bro,” Tony said. 

“Yeah, man. I’ll hit you up later. Might have something for the crew. We’ll see. Later,” Ray said and hung up the phone.

He sat there with his head down feeling a plethora of emotions playing through his mind and heart. The longer he sat there, though, the angrier he became. He knew he had done her wrong. He’d bedded a lot of women during their three-year relationship. Still, the pics with the drug dealing ‘Playboy’ gave him a strange feeling. Since they’d been apart, he had seen pictures of her with a few other guys, and the media was always touting the dude as her new love, but he knew her well enough and could read her expressions. She wasn’t all that into them. Her body language revealed it all so he didn’t worry. Pretty Boy, however, seemed different and he didn’t like that. And he might be dangerous. Being apart from her was one thing but seeing her move on with a guy like that was strictly another. He wasn’t ready for that. As far as he was concerned, Karisma and he were not over. He just might have to re-enter her life in the not so distant future, if only to save her from that dude. He looked at his cell phone. If he called her now, feeling as he did, he wouldn’t get anywhere with her. He was too angry and she’d probably hang up on him. He’d lay low for a little while longer. Then he would reclaim what was his.

                                          ***

Don Raffaelo waited patiently by the window that overlooked his wife’s vegetable garden. This time of year it always looked barren, except for the bushes he had planted there for some greenery when winter came. His consigliere, Antonio Russo, was seated near the unlit fireplace in the office, puffing on a vanilla scented cigar.

Raffaelo fidgeted with something in his pocket that he couldn’t free from its cotton confines. As he looked out the window, he muttered, “I’ve always hated winter.”

Antonio rose and joined his boss at the window, looking out at the dull land, still being held captive by the season. He removed the cigar and started to talk in his distinct, raspy voice, the voice of a smoker. “Fortunately, it does not last forever. Soon flowers will bloom and the vegetables that Cristina loves to grow will be there.”

“Digesting in my belly,” Raffaelo added dryly.

Antonio laughed loudly and Raffaelo glanced over at his long time advisor and friend and couldn’t help but chuckle as well. Then there was a sound at the door and the two men turned their heads to see who it was.

One of Raffaelo’s men, a bear of a man known as Old Man, because at age forty he was completely gray haired, walked in. He nodded to both the Don and the consigliere and announced the visitors. The two men walked over to welcome them. 

“Vittore,” Raffaelo said, arms outstretched. “Benvenuto.” Welcome. He greeted the man with the customary kiss to both cheeks, as Don Vittore reciprocated. 

“Raffaelo, Antonio. How have you been? I appreciate your seeing me this time of evening. I have a pressing matter that I felt needed be addressed sooner rather than later,” he said as he released Antonio.

              Don Vittore motioned for his son to move in closer. The younger Bianchi man stepped forward and greeted his two hosts in the appropriate manner. “Don Raffaelo, Senore Russo,” he said with a slight bow of his curly head.

“Nonsense, we are famiglia. Please sit down. What will you have to drink? You must forgive my dress,” Raffaelo said, indicating his khakis, casual shirt, and house slippers. “I was making my famous pizza. I would offer you some, but my wife is finishing it.”

“Ah, your pizza! Is it still as tasty as I remember it to be?” Vittore asked. 

“Si, Vittore, it is even more so. You would fall in love,” he said, with a flowering kiss to his fingertips. He walked over to the bar next to his desk. 

“Just a little brandy,” Vittore said gesturing with his thumb and index finger the amount that he desired. 

“And you, Vito? What will you have?” Raffaelo asked. 

“I’ll have the same, Don Raffaelo.” 

“Bene,” Raffaelo said.

Antonio settled back into the chair he had previously occupied. 

Walking over to his visitors and handing them their drinks, Raffaelo waited a beat, then asked, “Your wife, is she well?”

“Oh yes, she is fine. She sends her regards. So does Maria Elena,” Vittore replied. Raising his glass to his lips, he pinned Raffaelo with a look. “She is the reason I am here.” 

Raffaelo nodded and walked behind his desk to sit in his comfortable chair. “How is your lovely daughter? Excited about the wedding, I suppose?” he asked, folding his hands on his stomach.

“Eh, today, her mood matches the weather,” Vittore responded with a wry smile. 

“And why is that?” Raffaelo asked him. 

“Well, Raffaelo,” he said, waving his hand dramatically in the air. “Paolo is still in America, and the wedding is approaching.” 

His hand settled on his knee. Raffaelo nodded patiently and slowly, seeking out the right words. He couldn’t find them right away.

“My family is looking forward to the day when your daughter becomes a Montovani. Paolo will be here in a few days,” he finally said.

Vittore covered his mouth with his hand and coughed lightly. “Excuse me. There just seems to be a slight problem,” he said. 

“What would that be?” Raffaelo asked, twiddling his thumbs, and cocking his head in order to hear the answer better.

               “It seems that she and your son are not communicating. She says that she has not heard from him in several days. We would like his opinion on some things, but it has been difficult because he is not returning her calls,” the Don said, sipping his brandy again. Vito looked down at his pant leg and straightened the cloth.

Raffaelo cleared his throat and spoke. “I can see where this would indeed be a problem. I’m sure that a young woman would like the man she is marrying to be both responsive and attentive. Paolo has been engaged in intense undertakings at my behest. Blame me. He obviously hasn’t had any free time. Still, his fidanzata should not have to beg for his attention.”

Don Vittore chuckled with relief. “I agree. It’s been eighteen years. That is a long time for two young people to wait to be united in holy matrimony.”

“Si,” Raffaelo concurred. “It is. I will talk to my son this evening and he will contact your daughter. He’ll assure her of his commitment.” He rose. Both Vittores rose, as did Antonio. 

“Thank you, Raffaelo. I will inform Maria Elena that she is to expect a call from Paolo.”

“Si, va bene,” Raffaelo said. He then escorted his guests out and returned to his study to a curious Antonio.

Antonio asked, “Has he been that busy?” 

Raffaelo shrugged. “He’s been busy, but not too busy to call the girl. My guess is that he’s got another girl on his mind.” The Don dug his hands deep into his pockets shaking the loose change in them and bending his knees. “What time is it in Los Angeles?” he asked.

Antonio said, “It’s 11 AM there.” 

“Call Paolo. Let me know when you get him. I’m going to make sure Cristina has not ruined my pizza.”

8

Paolo left Karisma in the shower washing her hair. He looked at himself in the mirror, almost in disbelief that Karisma was actually with him. He’d wanted to meet her for so long; it had been a longing that had consumed him in many ways. Of course, he could have found a way to meet her years ago, but he never had. The timing hadn’t been right and he hadn’t been in the position he wanted. Today, he was.

Paolo went over to his phone to check his missed messages. There were several from Maria Elena. He shook his head. “What am I going to do about you?” he spoke softly. He knew without a doubt that he didn’t want to marry her, but he also knew that it was bigger than just his heart’s desire. If he said those words to the family, problems would ensue. If he didn’t love her after all the time that had passed, how could he ever?

Unlike Karisma, Maria Elena was spoiled and pushy and had never worked hard for anything. She only needed to ask her papa. And while he understood that the women who belonged to the men of the ‘Ndrine were often hard edged, he did not find it attractive for a woman to be so aggressive. And the sexual needs…his appetite was voracious, and she’d often complained about that. Yes, there were endless reasons not to marry Maria Elena and only one reason he should—a family commitment that had been made by someone other than him.

Paolo’s phone rang. “Think of the devil and the devil calls,” he said. He answered his phone. “Ciao, Don Raffaelo,” he chided his father.

Caught off guard by his middle son’s off beat sense of humor, Raffaelo laughed out loud.

“Ciao, Don Raffaelo,” he repeated. “You got me. I was fully prepared to get at 
you.”
 

Paolo smiled as he asked, “Why, what did I do?” 

“Hmm. You tell me. Then tell me what you haven’t done,” his father said.

“Uh oh. This conversation has just started and I’m already confused,” Paolo said. 

“Are you still experimenting?” his father bluntly asked.

“With what, Papa?” Paolo asked, running his free hand through his short wet hair and glancing toward the shower. 

“With the impending end of your bachelorhood,” Raffaelo said.

“Ah… that,” Paolo said, disinterest pervading his voice.

 “What exactly does that mean, Paolo?” 

“Maria Elena call you?” Paolo asked.

“Her father paid me a visit. He tells me she’s getting ready for your wedding day,” his father informed him. Paolo was silent for a second, his mind racing. “What, have you nothing to say about that? You can’t keep running, son. This is something that should happen. What’s your problem?” 

He had to phrase this delicately. “Papa let’s talk about this later, I’m not really able to give this the attention it deserves.”

“Why is that, Paolo? Your wedding day is coming up,” his father pushed, just as Karisma walked out of his bathroom wearing only a blue towel that barely hid her most exquisite parts.

“Unlike you, she’s anxious to wed,” Raffaelo continued. “You will call her today and ease her mind. When you conclude our business this evening, and you get back to Italia, you will spend time with her before the nuptials.” His words were an order.

“Yeah,” Paolo mumbled, but he did not hear. He eyed Karisma’s approach with a predatory stare. His attention was on her, now. She was fully aware of the power she had right now, and held him captive with a seductive gaze of her own. She walked into his arms, as he secured her flesh to his. He inhaled her hair. Pulling her head back by its wet tresses, he bent down to kiss her succulent lips. 

“Paolo!” his father demanded. “Are you listening to me?”

Karisma heard Raffaelo and looked up at Paolo wide eyed. He made a face and shook his head, pointing at the phone. She smiled and pressed her sweet body against his. He lifted her face and gently kissed first her upper, then her lower lip. They held each other. She loved the feel of his skin against her own.

“Did you hear what I said?” Raffaelo yelled into the phone, punctuating his words. 

“Who’s that?” she mouthed, pulling back, brows raised in surprise.

“My father,” he mouthed back. “Papa, I will do what we discussed and get back to you before the meeting this evening.” He heard his father sigh in disgust. 

“You are going to have to line up your priorities. Do you understand, Paolo?”

“I do, I understand. I have to go, Papa. I’ll call you later and we’ll talk in depth. Goodbye.” Paolo pressed the end call button on his phone and the loud, irritated sound of his father shouting, “Paolo!” rang out as he turned it off.

“Everything okay?” Karisma asked, concern etching her lovely features. 

“My father is somewhat demanding,” he said. “He sometimes forgets that I’m a man and no longer a boy.”

She kissed a nipple. “I can attest to the fact that you are definitely all man.” She began kissing the swirling tattoo on his pectoral muscle.
So sexy
, she thought. She ripped the towel from his waist and lowered herself to her knees. Paolo’s head fell back as Karisma’s mouth covered his swollen cock, and the man with angel wings found himself hurtling through heights that sent him to heaven and back, ending with him falling into the arms of the woman of his dreams, and vowing that nothing and no one would ever come between them.

                                              ***

My love for you was all I had,

What made you wana treat me so bad,

Felt your vibe; I thought it strange,

That after so much time, not much had changed

                  Karisma closed her eyes and sang the lyrics to the multi platinum song, 
Game Changer.
Moving across the elaborate stage in the Goldtone Records studio, her vocals were flawless. Chris played a guitar solo before Karisma began the chorus again. Chris added his vocals, as did Ted and Tessa, demonstrating perfect pitch and tune. The harmony was perfection and that was what Goldust was known for. When the music died and Karisma’s voice was all that could be heard, the song ended on a soft whisper. No one spoke. The note hung in the air like the lingering scents of Ylang Ylang and Neroli in a beautiful perfume. Todd, lowering his drumsticks, was the first to break the silence. 

“Aww, yeah!” he exclaimed. “That was dope! Karisma Montgomery, little bitty girl with a whole lotta soul!” 

“Alright, then,” Chris laughed. “Next up
, Can’t Apologize.
”

Karisma loved this song. She and Chris had written it one night in ten minutes. She took a gulp from her water bottle and rolled her neck. The tempo started out moderate, and then became raucous. Tessa and Mikki stood at their mics. Bass man Ted began plucking a slow moving bass line while Chris picked an arpeggio, cueing Todd to join in, driving the beat. Their uncle Brian always traveled with them and played piano in concert to free up Karisma to perform on stage. He now played the keyboard.

Part R&B, part hip-hop, the song told the story of an unapologetic player. It was fun, playful and irreverent. When the song was over, an exhausted Karisma said, “Hey guys, we need a break. We’ve been at it nearly five hours.”

Marshall Brooks, their stage manager said, “I agree. Let’s meet back in, what,” he checked his phone, “it’s 6:00 now, so 7:30. Is that good?”

A chorus of agreement sounded out. Karisma went to retrieve her phone from her bag on the theatre seat facing the stage. Paolo was on her mind. Before she had a chance to call him, though, Tessa hurried to sit beside her. “Hey, Tess, selfie!” she said, as they sat cheek to cheek, and she snapped a picture of their tired, smiling faces. She sent the picture to him instead.

“So cuz, where have you been and why haven’t you answered my texts?” Tessa asked, bumping Karisma’s elbow with her own. 

“I texted you from the limo. What are you talking about?” she said, side eyeing Tessa.

Walking up to the two girls, Chris said, “I tried calling you, too, where you been?”

Folding her arms across her chest, Karisma said to him, “I texted you from the limo, too.” She looked from one cousin to the other. Then she couldn’t stop the grin that threatened to crack her face. She threw her head back and laughed.

Chris grinned widely at his cousin and said, “Okay, now you’ve got my interest piqued. So where were you?”

“What makes you think I wasn’t at home?” Karisma asked, feigning indignation. 

              “Because I called Casa Montgomery. Stella said you weren’t there. She said to call your cell. Where were you?” he persisted. 

“Why didn’t you just leave a message, Chris? All these missed calls, no messages. Why were you calling?” she asked him, as she scrolled through the cell phone.

“She was with that fine ass Paolo last night at
The Trapeze
. They were on a date,” Tessa said, batting her eyelashes. 

Chris raised his eyebrows. “Who?”

“A babe she was out with last night. He’s FutureShock’s new owner,” Tessa said.

“That right? What’s up with that?” he asked.

“He wants me to appear on a song with Oliver the Poet,” Kari said.

Tessa giggled. “Didn’t look like business to me,” she said. “You were feeling each other up all night.” 

“Haa! Listen who’s talking!” Karisma said. “You and Mike. Mr. and Mrs. Octopus. Hands everywhere. You should’ve seen them, Chris.”

“Glad I didn’t,” he deadpanned.

“Did you screw him?” Tessa asked Kari.

“Leave her alone, Tessa, you’re so nosy,” Mikki said, coming over to join them.

“Wait! Before you answer that, I’m out,” Chris said rising to leave.  

“You have the biggest mouth,” Kari said, glaring at Tessa.

“Stop deflecting, girl. You did, didn’t you?” Tessa asked excitedly.

Kari stared at her cousin. “
Hell
 yeah,” she said. “What did you think I was gonna do with him when we left?” she asked smirking.

“Whoo wee! You ho!” Tessa exclaimed.

“Whatever. Takes one to know one,” Kari rolled her eyes.

“Well? Can he get down?” Mikki asked. 

“Now who’s being nosy?” Tessa said.

With her elbow on the armrest, she placed her hand under her chin and nodded at Mikki, a big grin on her face.

“I bet he’s big, too, huh?” Tessa whispered as she leaned in. 

“I’m not telling you that,” Karisma frowned and they broke out in laughter.

“How come? I tell you everything,” Tessa whined.

“More than I wanna know. Too much information, girl,” Karisma said.

“More than anyone wants to know,” Mikki agreed.

“‘K, then, no more sharing with you, diva,” Tessa said, rolling her eyes.

“If you say so,” Kari smiled.

Tessa playfully hit Karisma. Grabbing her arm, Karisma said, “Hey, check this out, guys. I have a stalker.” 

“What?” Mikki said, alarmed, as Kari released her arm. 

“Was he the one who tried to break in?” Tessa asked, concerned.

“My security guys are sure of it,” Karisma said. “He’s been sending me roses and love notes…the creep.” She shivered.

“That is fucking creepy,” Tessa said. “What are they doing about it? Does Uncle Vaughn know?” 

“No! And for now, let’s keep it that way. You know Daddy. I don’t need any more problems. I’ll tell him only when and if I have to,” Kari said.

“Okay,” Tessa said. Mikki nodded. “Maybe you should stay at your place in Santa Barbara until they catch him, Kari,” Tessa said.

“No, I live with a dozen other people. I’ll be fine, and…and Paolo gave me a gun.” 

“He gave you a gun? That’s pretty serious. Do you even know how to use it?” Mikki asked, raising her brows.

“You just met the guy and he’s giving you a gun?” Tessa asked with a frown.

“He gave me a quick lesson. I’ll never need to use it, though,” Kari replied.

“You sure?” Mikki asked.

“Yes,” she said. It didn’t sound convincing.

“Good. I’m glad he gave it to you then,” Tessa said, hugging her. “We gotta keep you safe.”

                                           ***

Ray was leaving a business meeting with executives from his record label, Black Dolla$. It was a long meeting and he left it feeling like he hadn’t gotten what he wanted. It was the theme of his day. They thought that the members of the team at Black Dolla$ should reach out to other artists and do more collaborations. One of the execs thought that because the new owners of FutureShock Records had expressed an interest in musical collaborations with rap artists, Black Dolla$ would be a good place to start.
Why would that guy want to make music with me?
Ray thought. He sensed an angle and it re-energized his pissy mood.

“That idea sucks,” Ray had said boldly, but it didn’t matter. They disagreed and it left him more suspicious of Montovani.

Now there he was with his entourage, waiting for the two Hummers they’d arrived in to pull up and the paparazzi converged on him.