Avarice (18 page)

Alfonzo noticed what she reached to the cover and held in her lap. “What are you doing with that?”

“I stumbled across the chest while looking for somewhere to hide Anita’s present.”

He wanted to chastise her, but in all honesty he didn’t care about a book or an old man’s ramblings when death blanketed their door.
“Forget about that for a minute. I have bad news.”

Selange must not have heard because she went right back to the book. “Alfonzo this is important. Your father had instructions for you and Nico’s mother is bad…there’s so much in here…I think we’ll have to move…”

His chest heaved sadness. Ramblings in a book, and the ramblings from his babe were making the delivering the tragic news even harder. He rushed to the bed and yanked her up by the arms. The old diary fell on its face and a page tore. He was too angry and hurting to give a damn about old shit. The here and now is what he faced and she needed to hear what was breaking his heart to say. “Shanda’s dead babe…she had an accident and didn’t make it…”

Her hands
suddenly slipped free and she slapped the shit out of his face. “You fucking liar. I know you’re mad because I read your private stuff but to say some mess like that is fucked up!”

Alfonzo
caught her wrists, pulled her down to a sitting position. His face stung but her pain had to be greater. He understood the outburst. There were times when his sorrow disguised as anger caused him to lash out, too. “Babe…I’m not lying. Snooping through my shit would never make me hurt you with something like this. Shanda’s dead…”

The whimpering came. Torrential rains were released from the hazel eyes. She cried, “The baby…what about Shanda’s baby?”

He shook his head. She struggled with him, yanking away, trying to run across the bed to escape the words. Deafening screams of a woman taken low resounded and he thanked the heavens he shut the door. She tossed a lamp, and then howled to the ceiling like a beast that lost a cub. “Nooooo!”

She was everywhere. Sprinting from corner to corner and Alfonzo felt like a football player trying to sack the quarterback. The woman’s agility had him huffing because she didn’t want to get caught. Where the hell she
planned to flee was anybody’s guess, but he wouldn’t let her go alone or injure herself.

She stepped on the broken glass
and slowed and that’s when he was able to get a secure hold of her wrist. She tried to feint and swivel, but arms strong from pumping iron and dealing blows wrapped her tight and she gave up the running. Escape, hell there’s no running from the truth, he thought.

When she
slumped against his chest he said, “I got you babe…I got you.” Even when her legs refused to let her stand, a loving husband held his woman up.

“No…
Nooooo!” she cried over and over again. Her heart couldn’t handle the injury. She didn’t want to hurt this way. Not Shanda, not her best friend, not the one person she’d known from days before children. Shanda was her only connection to who she’d once been. Shanda was her friend….no matter what anybody said they had BK love.

Alfonzo stroked his wife’s hair, kissed her head, whispered endearments,
and lied like a motherfuck to calm his distraught wife. He’d known this would happen. Shanda was like her sister. They fought, made up, disagreed but kept love. Goddammit, that’s how things used to be with Domingo until he screwed up.

Blood isn’t shit without loyalty.

Family is more than shared genes.

Oh what end was this to the season that death doubled up on their
asses? Hit hard that sonovabitch did, although one of the blows dealt came from his hand.

Selange gripped his arms with strained knuckles. “I have to see her. I have to say good-bye. I have to honey….I have to…”

“All right…let me wake Anita and have her pack stuff for the kids. I want us all together. I don’t know how long we’ll be gone.”

She nodded still sobbing. Alfonzo held her around the waist. He wasn’t letting go of his
babe. There’s no damn way he would let her go.

She cried and man all he heard was fucking
rap song because that’s how his brain coped with all the shit slamming him in the face. He saw the projects, the gun shots and sneakers tossed over power lines in homage to the dead. He wanted a drink but held tighter to his babe instead.

He didn’t have answers
to an unpredictable life. There aren’t answers that change the outcome when someone you love dies.

They stay dead!

She clutched at his arms and he stood rigid as a post and let her wail as his brain put soundtracks on the misery for them both!

‘
I know,

Caught up in the middle
,

I cry just a little
,

When I think could let it go
,

Oh no
,

Gave up on the riddle
,

I cry just a little
,

When I think
I could let it go…

Eyes shut still got me swimming like a diver
…

You and I know that jealously is not oppressive
,

Oh no
–I can’t stop,

I was destined
…

Oh no
,

Gave up on the riddle
,

I cry
just a little,

When I think
I could let it go,

Champagne buckets still got two tears in it
…

Bugatti never mean I
’m rich…

Look at me steering, got no boss staring
…

Gave up on the riddles,

I cry just a little,

When I think I can let it go…’

Alfonzo didn’t try to figure out life’s riddles anymore. He cried inside for their losses, but as long as he breathed, he wasn’t letting go. He had his wife, kids and family.

His babe cried hard. Whew, Shanda’s death socked a punch. His feet were planted firm as he said aloud, “Let the shit out nena, cry but I’ll be damned if I let you go!”

‘…when I need a healing,

I look up to the ceiling…

Oh no,

Gave up on the riddle
..
.
I cry just a little,

When I think I can let it go
…

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The family gathered in mourning for Shanda. The children were well-behaved and somber. Shanda’s parents refused to attend, blaming her death on Alfonzo and Selange. Yes, that was their statement to Selange on the phone. Selange hadn’t known the depth of their hatred for her husband or her until the woman who sat in church with her mom said the Johnson’s had disowned Shanda the moment she left with a no-good killer. Shanda had lied when she spoke of reconciliation with her family. The Johnson’s were the kind of folks who put conditions on love. Turn away a child if their gay, cast them out if their love is toward someone of a different religion or ethnicity, hate what you bring in to the world, deny them unwavering love.

But, here among a family of hardened men and women was a love so strong for Shanda that they breathed life to her in unity.

Gifts come, they do. They’re not always packaged and wrapped with shiny bows. Shanda was the greatest of gifts; she’d brought presents to many with her lively spirit. Selange looked around…yes…look at the many who will feel the emptiness because she is gone, she thought, especially her children.

Saddened, Alfonzo sat beside his wife, his arms around her shoulders.

Tony and tiffany were in the rear pew. He’d come, although Alfonzo said he didn’t need to. But, the man had class. Tony had come to pay his respects.

On the flips side, Sophie rose to the occasion
in excess. The funeral was spectacular. Alfonzo guessed Sophie had taken Shanda’s death to heart. She claimed Shanda as her daughter, and the farewell made every Giacanti proud. Giuseppe and Carlo were decked out in matching suits. The man stood tall with his head high, clasping the boy’s hand as they followed the ornate coffin.

Alfonzo never took his eyes off the shiny casket. He’d seen so many
over the years and when this was over he had to fly to New York to put Domingo to rest.

A drug deal gone awry is what the police surmised in their half-ass investigation. Dumb pricks never stopped to think why didn’t the killers take the money?

Aunt Carmen was beside herself, the entire Diaz family was distraught except Alfonzo. He was sadder over Shanda’s death than Domingo’s. He’d allow the grief to trickle over when he got there –maybe.

He did feel crappy about the kids losing a father. He’d be there in that respect. He was
after-all their Godfather and took the responsibility seriously. There’s not a minute he forgot how fleeting life was. Death can slip in a back door and steal someone you love. Selange’s hand gripped his knee and he saw the tears sliding. She loved Shanda, no doubt and needless to say he did too. Smack-talking chica gave him a run for his money, that’s for sure.

Coño
, Shanda went out like a baller. How many motherfuckers in the ‘hood wouldn’t want their last minute of life spent speeding in a multi-million dollar Bugatti?

The g
irl was Brooklyn, straight up. Shanda fit right in with mob men. She had the brass, crass and kiss my ass cojones!

“Sorry about Shanda.”
Nico said to Alfonzo and pat his shoulder as he sat down with Ari leaning over his wife hugging her from behind. They arrived late, but they came. That’s all that mattered.

Alfonzo heard about
Nico’s mother. The crazy woman didn’t know what the hell she had in a son like Nico. Crazy and selfish old hag. Alfonzo bet the only people who might miss her were those on the psych ward.

Alfonzo’s eyes scanned the faces of his children. Many parents who love their kids see their potential. Then there’s the parents who put conditions on children or harm them to get back at an adult. He wasn’t going to let Nico slip through the cracks anymore, nah, all these years the man had taken on so much while dealing with demons that nobody else saw. But Alfonzo had. He peeped those bastards because they came at him as well. They clawed at the brain, trying to drive a man insane who tried to cope in a fucked up world.

The funeral was long. He didn’t complain though. Shanda was worth much more. The suit he wore was for her, yep. A suit tailored in Brooklyn, her name stitched just behind the lapel. It was a small token of his appreciation for a woman who made his wife’s life a tad happier. It’s true, she had.

They assembled at Sophie’s, somewhat of a sense of déjà vu, all over again. They’d gathered here for Carlo, shiny limos, black suits and food. But, this time Alfonzo wasn’t in a rush to get home because family is where the heart of the hearth burns strong.

Alfonzo
spotted Giuseppe slip out to the patio with a flask of liquor and he joined him in the cold. He gripped Giuseppe’s shoulder. “You okay brother?”

“I have been better,” he said.

“Yeah.”

“We have many deaths eh fratellino?”

“Too many.”

Giuseppe’s eyes settled on his brother’s face. “I am very sorry about your loss as well.”

“Thanks.”

“It is not easy to take the life of someone you love, no?”

Alfonzo didn’t bother to ask how Giuseppe knew about Domingo. He just took the flask from his hand and gulped down the vodka. The shit was strong. “You know first-hand.”

“I do.”

Then the door slid open and Nico settled between them, lit a cigar and removed two from his pocket and passed them around. “In honor of Shanda.”

They lit up in silent tribute.

“What do you want to do about Don Vecchio?” Nico said between puffs of smoke.

“Let’s talk about business another day,” Alfonzo responded.

“No…speak. Business distracts from funerals,” Giuseppe urged.

“All right then,” Alfonzo responded. “We have
no other option but to pay visits to old friends.”

“Abate and the others?”

“Give it a few weeks. I’ll be settled in Sicily by then. Sometimes it’s good to chill and let suckers take their guards down. Besides you have to start delegating, otherwise you’ll never have time for family.”

“
Okay.”

“Good.”

Matteo found the trio standing and gazing upon the lawn. “Am I not family?” he asked.

“I have no more cigars,” Nico said apologetically.