Animus (14 page)

The Freudian slip confirmed his true desire. The apology from the brolic Don was a toothy smile. “Once we are reacquainted bella, your name will flow from my mouth.”

~ ~

The wheels of the stroller rolled across rough cement. Bodegas, with multi-colored awnings and advertisements for cigarettes, lotto and faded pictures of food items crowded the windows.

Shanda peered at the familiar landmarks, a run-down gas station, a Quick-n-Dry, Jamaican restaurant, a Chinese food take-out with hungry customers standing inside, but without tables to sit, was like looking at old footage. Another liquor store had sprung up on the corner. She just passed one on the previous block and she wondered if there was a city ordinance that limited such businesses from being so close together. The neighborhood didn’t need any more drunken fools congregating on the sidewalk causing a disturbance with their raucous talk. She’d grown tired of her parents smothering and a peaceful walk with her child to clear her head is what she needed.

The consensus among the family is she should stay in New York, get her life back on track and forget. Her brother even added his two cents. “He ‘aint shit sis. That baby could’ve been killed. Nah, I’m with mom and dad on this one.”

She hadn’t asked his ass what he thought, brotherly support or maybe a little understanding might’ve helped. She felt confused, and pressured to move on. But, move on to where?

She’d come home because she was scared. Now she wondered if Selange was right. Maybe, she was a coward. Maybe, what she was afraid of was how much she loved Giuseppe and death. Nobody knows how much she dreaded funerals. When her grandma died, she shook so bad when her mom brought her close to the casket. Everybody touched the woman’s dress, talking about how pretty and peaceful grandma appeared. A nine year-old girl saw a lifeless person she loved who would never hug her again. She’d gone to heaven.

Carlo fell asleep during their stroll. When she reached her block she ran into a neighbor’s daughter who returned to live with her parents. Ten years away had brought her back to the beginning with three kids, not a penny to her name and a no-good baby daddy serving time at Rikers for selling.

“Oh shit, how you doin’ Sha’?”

Sha’ was her nickname back in the day when they played jump rope in the street as kids. “I’m good.”

The woman bent down to look at Carlo. “Girl he’s white as hell. So, my mama wasn’t lying. You went and got knocked up by some white dude. Baby’s cute though.”

“First of all girl what color my baby is shouldn’t matter, he’s a baby. Secondly, whatever gossip you heard chuck that shit, alright?”

“I see you all sensitive. Aint nothing wrong with pale dick, I had some a few times and some other kinds. But my boo's the best. It's thick and dark like chocolate and tastes good, too.”

Vulgar bitch!
“Good for you, I guess while he’s on the Island you’ll be here waiting because his dick is the
bestest
.”

The woman looked at Shanda like she was crazy. “Girl, the dick’s good but it ‘aint that good. He’s doing a nickel and I’m ‘bout to find me another playa’ to plug my whole. Any newcomer lay it down right and take care of me, I’m out.”

Shanda’s face scrunched in disgust. “What about loyalty to your boo?”

“Boo-hoo-hoo.” The woman laughed. “He only the daddy of one of my kids, and we ‘aint married. Nobody can blame a girl for lookin’ out for herself?”

“If that’s what you call it.”

“Girl, men bounce all the time, ‘aint that what your baby daddy did, taste the chocolate then took off ‘cause he got a wife and shit?”

Shanda tried to remember the girl from the past; bouncy pig-tails, bright eyes and a pretty pink smile. But, she couldn’t see any of that in the adult. The hair was covered by an obvious wig, the eyes were dull and the lips darkened by smoking weed and there was a healed cut in the corner. The voice of a joyful girl had been replaced by the ignorance of a gold-digging woman. Shanda allowed the dumb heffa to think what she wanted. “Well, you know how it is. Shit happens!”

“Sure does. But, don’t worry girl. The way you look you can snag another dude. There’s plenty of ‘em around.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,
girlfriend.”

The dummy failed to
detect the sarcasm and replied. “We gotta’ do what we gotta’ do.”

“Um-hum,
you got that right. Talk to you later.”

“Now that we both on the block again we gotta’ hang out, hit the clubs some time.”

“I don’t go out much.”

“Shit, you were the head of the Bad Girl Committee on the block. Don’t let any motherfucker change you that much. So what you got a baby, you can still go out and party. We gonna’ get together and find us some men.”

Shanda couldn’t believe the skank. “You go ahead on your mission without me. I’m taking a break until my baby gets older.”

“Don’t let that pussy get too dry.”

Shanda almost choked. In a hurry to get away, Shanda exclaimed, “Okay, take care,” and sprint down the block.

The minute she made it inside, she removed Carlo and carried him to bed, ignoring the curious expression from her mother when she passed her on the couch. “Is everything all right?”

Shanda noticed the news footage on the TV and halted. There was Giuseppe, thinner, with bandages around his bald head. He disappeared inside a car and then Alfonzo appeared and she couldn’t understand a word he said. The man was always impeccably groomed, charming and sinister at the same time. Fucking mean ass!

“Mom, what’s this?” she finally asked.

Her mother clicked off the television. “Ah nothing. Your friend was released from the hospital.”

“I’ve been worried sick because I couldn’t find out anything and you call it nothing?”

“Shanda, keep your voice down before you wake the baby.”

“Hmmm, thanks for your concern for my child’s well-being. Too bad you don’t have the same concern for mine.”

She stomped upstairs, placed the baby in his crib and removed his outer clothes. She needed to get Giuseppe’s number. She replaced her cellular and asked the company for a detailed bill because she tried to view her call history on-line and was told the data had been lost due to some virus. She never heard any shit like that before, but that’s what they said. Apparently, her contacts were gone.

The frustration of trying to assimilate into her old life when she wasn’t the same person had her edgy all the time. The damn pretense that she didn’t care about her baby’s father was beginning to fall apart. Her dad was trying to re-enact her childhood, but he’d forgotten she had grown-up. He couldn’t undo the years he put work before her. That’s when she needed an attentive father, what she needed now was their support and love. She felt confused; on one hand she wanted to protect her child from harm
, on the other hand she missed Giuseppe. Was Carlo really safer in Brooklyn when just the other day a kid got shot going to the store? 

Then this
nosy bitch acted like she knew her business. Like, they were in the same boat, when their lives were completely different. And why in the hell was her mom going around talking her business? She was going to put an end to that pronto. Frankly, being home reminded her of what she didn’t miss. Ratchet chicks like that made her sick.

She p
laced yet another call to Selange and left a voicemail message. “Call me girl, please.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Last night he called as instructed and his mother delivered. Hot damn!

Geovonna’s brother that piece of shit was behind the whole mess. How she got this information, he hadn’t asked. He investigated further and confirmed everything she said. Paolo Calbrese ordered the hit
and the prick hadn’t thoroughly wiped clean his trail.

Paolo had
instructed the contractors to wound Giuseppe and let him watch the killing of his entire family and then shoot Giuseppe in his big mouth. Paolo’s animosity stemmed from Giuseppe’s failure to attend the funeral for his sister Geovonna which he considered a sign of disrespect. Nico often warned Giuseppe to tread carefully. Offensive actions can lead to unrest. Giuseppe further humiliated Paolo outside of an eatery during an altercation not too long ago and of course Paolo sought revenge. The politician chose to evoke a personal war and did not request permission to act, a despondent man does not think.

Sergio had begun to get the hang of the decoy stuff and in Paolo’s case it was easy. The skinny twit liked to smoke. He was smoking now as he cut through the piazza to his car. There was Sergio, cigarette in hand, fumbling for a light, when he sees Paolo. Nico smirked, Paolo’s actions were expected. The lighter flickered and
was held to the edge of Sergio’s cigarette. Nico pulled up during the distraction and reached over to push open the back door. Like a pro, Sergio took hold of Paolo to muscle him in the car and didn't make a scene. Nico sped off as Sergio checked Paolo for weapons and then handcuffed his hands and ankles.

Sergio was glad Nico had not asked him to drive. The traffic in Palermo was atrocious. There was virtually no road or highway maintenance. The highway and road signs were inadequate and difficult to read. Either they were poorly placed, small, or covered with tree branches or graffiti. At least in New York the highway department trimmed the trees. He found this problem existed where ever they traveled in Sicily, and the criminal control which his family was part of, along with
the bureaucracy were to blame. He had mentioned this to Nico and he agreed. Finally, they had found common ground. “So how do you fix the problem nipote?” Nico had asked.

“Make the families in charge of these services deliver.”

“Sounds good in theory. Corruption is rampant.”

“What’s the point of having power if you don’t use it?”

“Allies can become enemies when livelihoods are threatened. Keeping a medium is preferable. Sometimes a person can lean too far in the wrong direction and upset the balance of things.”

“People deserve better than squalor Uncle.”

“A liberator of the people is a thief,” Nico said jokingly.

“Call me what you want, but this shit is wrong.”

“Sí, nipote there is much wrong in the world. Not even the power of force can change that, capisce?”

That is only one of many conversations Sergio had with his Uncle during his
stay. The car distanced itself from the tourist Palermo, and Sergio sighed at the general deterioration of public places. The lovely seaside towns, with the once beautiful brick sidewalks set along the beachfronts, broken and bricks missing due to lack of maintenance brought a snort.

He found corruption and failed bureaucracies were endemic problems in many places apparently other than the United States. He somewhat understood Nico’s logical assessment, because Tony had made a similar observation. There were not enough bullets to wipe-out the ills of people.

Nico’s eyes were on his nephew wondering what he was thinking. He’d been quiet far too long. A plus and a minus is how he saw it. “You alright, nipote?”

“Yeah, I just think if our family ban together we can change some of this squalor. I mean damn Nico, if what you say is true, Sicily should represent our proud heritage and not a feeding ground for vultures to pick at, you know what I’m saying?”

Nico’s chest convulsed. In an unguarded moment, the young upstart had finally spoken wisely. Yes, goddammit Sergio, now you’re awake, he thought. “Buongiorno Paolo,” Nico said with his eyes on the rearview mirror instead.

“Nico, people will look for me.”

“Hum, and?”

“Por favore do not do this.”

Nico had done nothing. “Do what Paolo?”

“Do not kill me.”

“I am not going to kill you Paolo.”

Paolo’s relief showed. “Grazie, grazie.”

“The Capo de tutti wants the pleasure. I have seen what he does when he is angry. My cuts are kinder.”

Paolo’s eyes were saucers. He shouted in fear and tried to reach for the door. Sergio’s fist smashed into his face and actually broke Paolo’s jaw. He yelled no more.

“Grazie, nipote.”

“You’re welcome.”

~ ~

There are ancient places found throughout Sicily. Old castles on rolling hilltops overlooking Trapani and the beaches of San Vito lo Capo, in the shadows of mountain and fog is where Nico chose to meet. History survived in Erice in the stone streets and feudal strongholds older than the Middle Age period. The city sat atop a mountain, where eyes could absorb the Tyrrhenian coast of western Sicily.

Mythical heroes such as Hercules and Aeneas are associated with ancient Erice. Here is where, according to Diodorus Siculus, Eryx received Hercules during his visit and lost to him in a wrestling bout. Eryx was the son of Aphrodite and King Butes of Elymians.