Alfonzo Read online

  COPYRIGHT 2011 S.W. FRANK

  E-book ASIN B006PU2RC8

  Paperback ISBN 978-1-478-31745-6

  *All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system in any form without prior written permission of the author.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE:

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and events portrayed in this story are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental and attributable to the author’s vivid imagination.

  ALFONZO

  Volume 1

  THE BEGINNING OF A MODERN MOB SAGA

  Dedication

  To Cam, Brit and Kris; your love is such a wonderful thing. Many kisses to my sister Janette and to D’Shea for your continuous support and as always, thanks to the curious readers who have decided to enter Alfonzo’s world.

  -S.W. Frank

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  * * *

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty—Three

  Chapter Thirty—Four

  Chapter Thirty—Five

  * * *

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  ‘Fate’s shadow hovered over me the moment I emerged from the protection of my mother’s womb and drew my first breath. I was an innocent child and did not understand; the shadow of fate is also known by a different name, destiny. I learned this when I grew into a man.’

  -Alfonzo

  * * *

  CHAPTER ONE

  God’s weather some called it; warm with an occasional breeze that caused leaves to sway under its gentle touch. Open windows signified there was an oppressive heat creeping in as mid-summer approached. In apartment 4C of the Brooklyn housing project, Marvin Gaye’s sultry voice filtered below to the courtyard. The warmth brought happy children frolicking about as their parents sat on weathered benches with attentive eyes, their legs ready to spring at any sound of gunfire.

  Beneath the shade of building 533 sat a pair of elderly inhabitants. They watched the boisterous activity with loquacious detachment. Today they enjoyed the beautiful summer afternoon perched atop their cracked wooden seats sharing gin from a soda bottle. “You playin’ the number?” The gray-hair man Slim asked his companion.

  “Done played already,” Henry replied between a gulp of liquor concealed in the Sprite bottle.

  “Heard some lady up there hit the big one,” Slim’s raspy voice announced. His sleeveless brown arm pointed to the west side of the building.

  This information piqued Henry’s curiosity, “The Mega?”

  “Um-hum, the one last week for hundred million,” Slim replied.

  “Oh-boy, ‘aint that something, if I won so much money I’d be long gone!”

  “Fa’sure,” Slim agreed.

  “Aint that simple though they gotta’ wait for them lottery people to cut the check.

  “They probably consultin’ with a lawyer or something.” Henry said thoughtfully.

  “Hope they ‘aint on welfare or nuthin‘-cause welfare gonna‘ want their money back.”

  Henry laughed displaying stained and missing teeth, “Like the actor in all them action flicks.”

  Slim bowed his head thinking. He could not recall the name, yet he saw the actor’s face in his mind, “Yeah, ‘aint that somethin!” He finally replied.

  “That boy shouldn’t have to pay his mama’s debt,” Henry said with a drunken lisp. He suddenly became inspired at the chance of winning the lottery and searched his pockets for spare change. He pulled out two dollars. It wasn’t just a dollar and a dream anymore, but a dollar and a possibility. Henry tucked the bottle protectively under his armpit and scurried to a nearby bodega leaving his friend sitting alone.

  ****

  Selange Brown walked around the small bedroom eyeing boxes stacked against the faded purple walls. She inhaled angrily. The nerve of her mother to box her stuff when she went out after she’d told her she’d do it. As always, her mother’s impatience prevailed. “Maaa!” Selange shrieked.

  Darlene Brown appeared in the doorway. Her usually smooth face creased with worry lines, “What’s wrong, everything okay honey?”

  “I said I’ll pack my things when I came home –you didn’t label the boxes, how can I find anything?” Selange complained as she opened one of the flaps to a box atop the dresser and peered inside, “Where’s my laptop?”

  “Someone needed to get things done. The movers are coming in the morning, besides if you take the time to look, you’ll see your laptop is right over there under those papers on your messy desk.”

  The beautiful young woman glared at her mom, sometimes she was impossible!

  “Me and Al were working hard all day and we’re tired. Now stop with the dramatics and come get something to eat. We ordered Chinese, it’s your favorite.”

  “Al has no business in my room. I’m not a little kid mom, I need privacy.” She whined.

  Arms akimbo, Darlene sighed, “Are you done?”

  Selange’s pouty lips tugged down at the corner. The action caused a deeper indentation on her dimpled cheek. She was tired and angry. Her mom and gigolo boyfriend had encroached on her private space. What’s worse, the smooth player was moving into their new home on Long Island. Frankly, Selange preferred he stayed away from her mom and moved on to some other desperately lonely woman. “I’m going to Shanda’s house; you guys knock yourselves out!”

  “Girl, if you called me in here to start an argument…well…then let me remind you who the parent is!”

  “And I’m a grown woman, but you treat me like a nine year-old!”

  Darlene scoffed at the statement, “Bunch of nonsense.”

  Selange knew differently, “It’s true, ma!”

  “What‘s this really about?”

  Selange pursed the heart shaped lips. She wanted to say, ‘he’s not good enough for you and he’s nothing like dad’, instead she blurt out, “Forget it ma. Just forget it!” She brushed past her mom. All she wanted to do was get away. Outdoors she could think without witnessing her mom and Al acting like lovesick teenagers.

  “Hey leaving so soon sweetie?” Her mom’s boyfriend Al asked from a perch atop the windowsill. A thin herbal cheroot hung from his pink mouth and there was a good-natured grin on the handsome face. There’s no denying Al’s good looks. He possessed a flawless caramel complexion and gentle bedroom eyes that charmed many women. ‘He’s doing it now, trying to win me over’, Selange thought.

  Al had only shown her kindness but she didn’t trust him. She knew her mother was lonely and secretly suspected the gigolo might someday break her mother’s heart. Since they’d won the lottery, she trusted him even less. What did her mom really know about him anyway? Sure, he owned a mechanic shop and that’s grea
t. Somebody that fine must have kids somewhere and a few baby mama’s uptown or in Puerto Rico. He’d mentioned sisters uptown and a couple of nephews and nieces, but Selange just wasn’t buying the Mister Perfect Image. Men, like him were trouble. That’s right, he’s too damn good to be true and what’s the likelihood of that in this crazy-ass city? She thought. “I’m going to visit my friend, why?”

  Al propelled off the ledge, careful to avoid the boxes of Chinese food on the folding table, “Did Darlene tell you our good news?”

  Something’s up! “Tell me what?”

  Darlene appeared at her lover’s side on cue, “Al she doesn’t know.”

  He looked lovingly at the petite woman in his arms. Not only was Darlene beautiful, she was also smart and funny. They met many years ago at Art& Design High School. After graduation they’d lost contact until last summer when he spotted her shopping downtown. The memory of how hot she looked in jeans and those high heels aroused him. In high school he had a mega crush on Darlene, but she was dating a college kid and they were serious at the time. He didn’t make a move, then. He wasn’t that type of dude. Chica’s had to come unattached; no boyfriend drama, none of that B-S. He hated triangles and unnecessary drama even more.

  After school, he’d hop on the train heading uptown and she’d travel in the opposite direction to Brooklyn. He’d secretly hoped she dropped the dude, but in senior year when they were still hooked up, he went on about the business of living.

  Finally, he crossed the street and called her name. She spun around and it was the identical dazzling smile from high school. “Al is that you…oh snap…it is. Al suave Diaz…what’s going on?”

  She remembered! Since then they became reacquainted. He found himself laughing a lot. He hadn’t been this happy in years. He fashioned himself a playboy; obstinate about steering clear of commitment, until reconnecting with his childhood crush. Al smiled, he finally had it all, a beautiful woman with a big heart and an instant family. If he could just win over her stubborn daughter, then the stars in the universe would fully align.

  “Honey,” Darlene began, “we got married last week.”

  “What, what do you mean, we got married, are you fucking serious?” Selange asked incredulously.

  Darlene didn’t expect such a strong reaction from her daughter; afterall it’s over five years since her husband Richard died in that car crash. He was an elementary school teacher, a good husband and an excellent provider. Darlene was lonely without him and stopped grieving when Al re-entered her life. Couldn’t her daughter see how happy Al made her?

  The trials of raising a head-strong teenager in such a harsh environment hadn’t been easy, but she managed to do a good job. The projects were becoming over-run with drug-dealers and crazies. So, many negative influences were all around but she managed to keep her daughter on the straight and narrow. She spoke in length to the girl about not giving in to the negative stereotypes portrayed about people of color. There are many upstanding, intelligent and hard-working blacks. Every group has their bad seeds; they just don’t advertise it to the world, unless there’s a massacre at a high school, a bombing at a federal building or a serial killer preying on innocent women. Don’t let her get started on the greedy CEO’s and corrupt politicians robbing people blind. When robberies occurred in impoverished communities, it’s often an act of desperation, and the police label the criminals, degenerates and many are. Yet, when rich people rob and steal, greed’s usually the motivation and they’re considered ‘white collar criminals.’ Yeah, and they got book deals after going to jail and go on talk shows bragging about their crimes and warped ass society continues to feed their greed. Hey, and you know that desperate robber, you know what he gets? Nothing!

  Darlene stressed to her daughter, “Do something positive with your life. Never become one of those statistics you hear pushed at us every day. They’re designed to try to tell you you’re nothing, but it’s a lie. You’re far better than most and a helluva lot smarter than many. We’ve laid the foundation, so it’s up to you to pave the way from there and don’t let anybody tell you that you can’t, because baby girl, you can conquer anything!”

  Those talks paid off, because Selange turned out just fine. Despite, her daughters acerbic tone and posturing, she was a good girl –and Darlene was proud. Selange is right though, she isn’t a child anymore and a grown woman shouldn’t expect another woman to remain lonely the rest of her life. Soon, Selange would move away, have a family and Darlene would have no one.

  Selange had a teaching career and she loved it. Darlene didn’t have any external passions. She loved her daughter but she wanted the love of a man, too. The perpetual mourning had to end and her daughter wasn’t going to make her feel guilty about opening her heart to love. Al’s a wonderful man who worked hard and treated her good. He came along when she needed him most; too bad Selange didn’t understand any of that; too bad she wouldn’t give Al a chance. Maybe, since she’d gotten married Selange would accept Al as part of the family and cease the childish behavior. “Listen honey I know this is a surprise, but you can’t continue disrespecting me or Al. I didn’t raise you this way and neither did your father.”

  Selange gripped her keys. She considered tossing them at her mom for even breathing a word about her father after this betrayal. Why was she doing this? “He only married you for your goddamn money and you’re too blind to see that!”

  Al released Darlene’s arm, “I married your mom because I love her and not her money!”

  Unconvinced, the young woman replied, “Sure you do.”

  Darlene became crushed by her daughter’s insensitive remark. She frowned as Selange slammed out the apartment mumbling, “To hell with it. You guys deserve each other!

  * * *

  CHAPTER TWO

  A nondescript black car maneuvered into a tight space parallel to the curb. Its’ driver wore dark shades, a black cotton Tee and jeans. He scanned the area for undercover detectives 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 fac
e.

  Ten minutes, in-out!

  He reached the front door, it opened suddenly and an attractive girl stepped directly into his path. Their eyes connected briefly. He detected a glint of anger in her beautiful eyes or perhaps it was the arch of the perfectly shaped brow and petulant scowl on the luscious lips which told him this. The girl was young, early twenties with delicious mocha skin and a graceful stride. He found her beauty antithetical to the dismal surroundings. In this place he despised emerged the most gorgeous female he’d seen in a long…long time.

  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’d 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.