Luzo: Reign of a Mafia Don (23 page)

CHAPTER TWO

A nondescript black car maneuvered into a tight space parallel to the curb. The driver wore dark shades, a black cotton tee-shirt and jeans. He scanned the area for undercover detectives, and then tipped his head skyward toward the dull brick building with distaste. He hated the projects; he hated everything about public housing. They were like jails, oppressive and gloomy. Their jail-keepers were unscrupulous housing police who roamed the vicinity turning a blind eye to overt drug transactions because they were too busy flirting with the pretty single mothers to care.           

Yeah, he disliked these places because he grew-up in a similar hell-hole. Today, he had an important job to do, one which would give him financial freedom and the means to get out of this crappy city. He was going to take the money and live like a king, some
place where the cost of living was cheap and the women even cheaper.            

Satisfied there weren’t undercover police lurking nearby, he exited the rental and walked briskly to building 533.The courtyard flourished with children and people mingling around. This was a typical scene in the slum-burbs. Most parents weren’t able to afford sleep away camp for their children and the poor kids ran around the concrete courtyard like it was a fucking playground! A trio of unruly children ran in front of him screeching loudly and he grumbled irritably at the sight of them. He walked swiftly, absorbing peripheral details. A duo of elderly men engrossed in drunken conversation sat not far from the entryway and standing on the brown grass a couple argued over what else? Money. A woman pushed a shopping cart filled with two weeks’ worth of laundry down an adjacent path as a stray dog lounged alongside an old green receptacle. The police were certain to interview the drunkards; they were undoubtedly too intoxicated to have seen anything, yet they’d volunteer information as dutiful citizens. Everyone else would clam up; if they saw anything they’d never
tell. They were frightened the police would not protect them against retaliation and they were right!

He remained focused, ten minutes, in-out!

Leave no time for an accurate description.

He didn’t worry about witnesses. Most studies proved eyewitnesses were unreliable, anyway. He quickened his pace and avoided eye contact with everyone; passing through as a man without a face.

Ten minutes, in-out!

He reached the front door and it opened suddenly, nearly striking him in the face. An attractive girl stepped directly into his path. Their eyes connected briefly and he detected a glint of anger in the hazel eyes. The arch of the perfectly shaped brow and petulant scowl on the luscious lips were outward indications. She was fairly young, in her late teens or early twenties with delicious mocha skin and a graceful stride. He found her beauty antithetical to the dismal surroundings. Ironically, in the place he despised the most gorgeous female he’d seen in a long time emerged.

He quickly looked away as she whispered, “Excuse me,” and then pushed past.

Too bad I’m here on business and not pleasure, he thought before entering the lobby and taking the stairway to the fourth floor. The lay-out was similar to a building he grew up in. He had memorized the lay-out and watched his prey for two weeks. Like all creatures of habit his routine rarely changed. 

At a door leading to the corridor he halted to don gloves then removed the gun from his waist, quickly screwed on the noise suppressor and straightened his spine. His ears adjusted to the familiar sounds, babies screeching, and music pumping and elevated voices. He took a deep breath then cleared his mind. Years locked upstate taught him ways to block out external distractions; it’s the internal ones which were problematic. Horrible bloody scenes from the past came with a fury as he stood at the door leading to the hall. The stark, haunting images threatened to render him impotent and he inhaled. He took another breath, relaxed, pushed the gory images away and forced them in a dark corner of his brain. He cleared a mental path through the muck and visualized the task ahead, then the image of his stepfather’s cracked skull, contents spilling onto his bare feet caused a paralysis to his lower extremities and he stumbled.

“Stop…get out of my head!” He seethed and pound his fist to his skull until it hurt. The bastard deserved it, he told himself. His stepfather had it coming after what he’d done. The beatings and sexual abuse had sent the eleven year old boy over the edge. The abusive childhood broke something in his brain and ever since, Freddie hadn’t been the same. The crazed eyes glazed over, his body tensed then relaxed as he breathed through it like he learned in anger management classes. Finally, he won.

Silence.

Peace.

Death beckoned.

He shoved open the door and walked swiftly down the corridor.

Ten minutes…do it…do it…do it!

C
HAPTER
THREE

Alfonzo Diaz waited patiently at the northwest corner of One hundred and Twenty-Third Street. The thrill of another business transaction pulsed through his entire body. He pulled down the brim of his baseball cap and surveyed the area. The street was alive with people standing or moving past the lit shops along the avenue. To most he resembled any other summer dweller soaking in the atmosphere from a darkened doorway on side of a bodega. Directly across the street, above an unoccupied storefront were Raul and Domingo watching discreetly from an open window. His cousin Domingo wanted to meet with Carlos tonight, but Alfonzo wasn’t having it. Domingo’s high-strung personality coupled with his dislike of Carlos made for a volatile situation. Alfonzo wasn’t worried about Carlos. The little punk was nothing but a petty hustler from Brooklyn looking to score product and bringing along a friend seeking a new supplier. It’s always the people you don’t know you have to worry about. Carlos had vouched for his boy, but like Domingo, Alfonzo didn’t trust anyone.

Alfonzo rocked impatiently on his heels. He disliked doing business in public. They were too damn visible. Preliminary introductions never occurred in his spot, only a trusted few got that far and Carlos wasn’t one of them. There were snitches everywhere trying to avoid lock-up or undercover NYPDicks looking for a major bust.

Carlos was related to an acquaintance, a dude he played ball with at the Polo Grounds named Juan. Alfonzo bumped into the guy often, so if anything went wrong, he’d simply bust Juan’s ass for putting him on to his shifty cousin. Alfonzo adapted a positive attitude and shrugged. Money’s money right, it’s all dirty?

Alfonzo glanced at his watch, Carlos was late. Another ten minutes and he was heading out!

“Hola, ‘Fonzo que paso?”

He looked up to see Xenia, a chica from the west-side. She moved toward him and they exchanged kisses. She was
accompanied by another hot chica. Judging from their outfits they were heading downtown to go clubbing. He slipped her two Franklin’s then blended into the shadows.

“Thanks papi, sure you don’t wanna come hang?”

His chin went up, “Nah, working, but you ladies be careful out here, watch your drinks and get a cab home, me siento?”

“Te siento…I feel you.” Xenia said as she sauntered away with an extra sway to her hips and Alfonzo laughed. If he wasn’t doing business he’d accompany them to the club; however business always took precedence over pleasure.

Alfonzo heard the music before he spotted Carlos’ ride cruising down the avenue. The bass was cranked at full volume and it drew unwanted attention. The music lowered and Carlos’ high pitched voice could be heard free-styling over a classic Fifty Cent joint. Carlos’ ambition to become a rapper was obvious, except he lacked talent and anyone who signed him to a deal must be one tone deaf mother-fucker!     

Alfonzo remained where he was for a minute until he was sure the chromed out SUV wasn’t followed before casually strolling to
the curb. The tinted windows rolled downward, “Que tal?” Carlos greeted through a cloud of marijuana smoke.  

Alfonzo nodded, “Nada, what’s up your late?”

His eyes scrutinized the occupants. Carlos’ right hand man Hector drove and two men in hoodies were in the backseat. The temperature registered eighty degrees, too hot for the heavy outerwear unless they were packing heat concealed in the pockets.

He stepped back on the curb. He had a bad vibe and always listened to his gut. Instinct saved his ass many times.  

“Yo, so what we late nigga’ what up with our shit?”

Carlos swiveled his head to look at his boy who spoke out of turn, “Jay, relax!”

“Nah man I ‘aint got all day!” Jay scowled.

So, Carlos can’t muzzle his boy, which means he doesn’t have any control!

The use of the N-word didn’t digest well with Alfonzo. The word was offensive, a negative connotation and an abbreviation for niggardly. If the dumb shit read a dictionary he’d find it meant, poor and beggarly, and reserved for a sorry ass sonovabitch!

Alfonzo snarled, “I’m not your nigga, your boy, homey, hombre –nada,
comprende asshole?”

Carlos jumped to Jay’s defense, speaking rapidly in Spanish, “Yo, Alfonzo chill. Jay’s cool he’s eager that’s all.” 

Alfonzo retorted, “Your friend isn’t cool with me, fucking chump. Don’t ever bring anyone else to me Carlos. Matter-of-fact, don’t you ever come around my way to cop shit. We’re done!” He stepped away from the car and eyeballed the one called Jay.

Carlos exited the vehicle, platinum chain sparkling beneath the streetlamp. “Come on Alfonzo, lo siento…check it…my man got the funds, don’t be like that, yo. We can still do business.”

Alfonzo stopped and crossed his arms, covertly touching steel, “Where your boys from?”

“Bed-
Stuy, do or die.” Carlos answered.

“You mean Crooklyn, step off, Carlos.” Alfonzo warned.

Carlos shrugged and headed toward his vehicle. With Alfonzo, there wasn’t a chance of negotiation once you pissed him off and stupid ass Jay did that and more.

Alfonzo began to walk away when the rear door swung open and Jay rushed at him to block his retreat brandishing a gun. “Nigga gimme the shit or I’ll blow your fuckin’ head off!”

Jay’s action hadn’t surprised him. In fact, Alfonzo anticipated the underhanded shit. He made a swift movement with his wrist to deflect the direction of the weapon and dislodged it from Jay’s grasp. The gun clanged to the ground and slid down the curb near the gutter. “Wha…the fuck?” Jay mouthed as Alfonzo applied pressure to his wrist and twisted sharply until he was kneeling against the pavement with a shiny silver 9mm pushed hard against his Adam’s apple. “Yo…yo man chill…chill.”

None of Carlos’ crew intervened. Alfonzo smirked, the minute he stepped away from the car and crossed himself he had signaled his watchers. Right on cue Raul and Domingo were out the building and standing on the side of the vehicle with their weapons pointed inside.

“Yo! Yo! Alfonzo I ‘aint got shit to do with this!” Carlos began, “Just thought my man wanted to make a purchase…lo siento…for real!” He exclaimed as he backed away. Alfonzo’s loco and this was a dumb-ass plan. Now Alfonzo’s boys were going to come hard!

Jay stared into calm blue eyes. This blue eyed Puerto-Rican’s too calm, like one of those cold-blooded types who’d squeeze the trigger without hesitation!

Alfonzo’s muscles relaxed. Jay was a punk, he could tell. Fear leaped from his eyes. The coward wasn’t worth a bullet; instead he struck Jay in the mouth with his fist, “Next time maricon, you try to jack me, I’ll cut your balls off, comprende?”

Sirens wailed in the distance as Jay jumped up and scrambled back to the car. Once Carlos and his boy were inside, Domingo waved his gun at the driver and a frightened Hector tore off down the street to avoid getting capped in the head. The SUV careened around a corner and Domingo scoffed, “Punk-asses.”

Raul kicked Jay’s piece down the drain, “Shit probably got bodies on it. I wouldn’t even touch the old crap!”

The trio discreetly tucked away their weapons as Fernando appeared with the car. They climbed in and Domingo was the first to vent. “Carlos ‘gonna get his, word!

Alfonzo nodded. His cell was blowing up all evening. He didn’t need to check it again; he knew exactly who it was. Antonia. Mamasita wanted something, money or loving. Right now he could use a physical release, especially after the anti-climactic scene. Shit, I can go twelve rounds tonight!

Twenty minutes later Domingo drove Alfonzo uptown. Raul and Fernando were at the spot and the cousins had a chance to talk business. They discussed popping Carlos tonight but Alfonzo decided its best they wait, let the tension subside then deal with Carlos later.

“You’re waiting or what?” Alfonzo enquired when they rolled to a stop in front of Antonia’s building.

“You should’ve taken your car; I’m not your goddamn chauffeur, primo!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t, so fucking wait!”