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  Ari hung up and he folded her into a warm hug. “You look good sweetheart.”

  “You do, too.”

  “Look, you have nothing to worry about. I will be on my best behavior. If you don’t trust me, then leave the boys and take Semira and Anna. I won’t murder them.”

  “Nope, my parents want everybody there. You get a free pass because my mom is too charmed by your sexy butt to fuss about your absence, especially since you bought a nice house as a gift.”

  Ari’s mom had mentioned a home she saw once out in Connecticut with a large yard and this beautiful gazebo surrounded by cherry trees. He had to do a lot of searching but he had located a similar property and arranged to have cherry trees planted. The present was also an additional safety measure for his family. Now that Ari could travel home without legal impediments, he wanted to make sure nobody knew where her parents resided.

  He nodded. “Hey, I apologize for what I said earlier.”

  “No, I shouldn’t have given you an ultimatum. It’s your child; I understand you'll want to visit. I just don’t trust the baby’s mama.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “Before I might have said no, but now the answer is yes.”

  “Ari I made you a promise. I didn’t do that because you forced me to, I did it because I love you and the kids. I’m not having you walk out on me over any woman –ever again, capisce?”

  “Just make sure that bitch understands she doesn’t have any claims on you because you have a child together.”

  “There’s no need for that conversation. Action is the nonverbal language I’m best at.”

  Giuseppe turned over a steak. Nicole said something and he put aside the utensil to remove his shirt. He patted his abs and wifey laughed. Guess she made a comment about his nonexistent gut. The way his cugino ate, he should be a blimp. Where his brother was svelte and cut, Giuseppe was broad with muscles and an arrogant prick. Lately, he had simmered down, not much, but enough for Nico to believe the butthead was finally happy.

  Ari rubbed his wrist. “Okay, anyway somebody’s birthday is coming.”

  Nico put aside ruminations to lie back, holding his woman. “Yeah, whose?”

  “Seriously?”

  Nico listened to the splashing of the sea and the background chatter. A reminder of the day he was born wasn’t required. He hadn’t done much over the years after Vincent’s death. They often celebrated over drinks, clinking their glasses and muttering, “To the man in the mirror.”

  Maybe, Ari failed to understand how shitty that day was for him. Frankly, he’d rather forget. He preferred to simply hold his woman and enjoy the happy right now moment. These kinds of instances are keepsakes for the spirit.

  Later, an African night brought peaceful union between couples.

  A Giacanti far beyond his prime heard the creaking of beds, and moans of pleasure to which he often partook in limber days. He smiled in the dark hours, hopeful and eager for another sort of union with family he hadn’t seen in ages.

  Morning arrived and he slumbered on.

  A worn book sat atop a nightstand close to a couple. They rose unaware its scribe had expired in the next room or that he had listened to their lovemaking. The sounds were music when he had drifted to the afterlife. He had enjoyed the company of family and died of old age without scars from bullets.

   

   

   

   

   

  Chapter One

   

   

   

   

   

  I can’t get up.

  I can’t get up.

  I can’t get up.

  The repetitious thought played like a hook to a song.

  This was their ending, a fucking tragedy after short years of dodging death until their luck ran out.

  Blood poured from his wife's lips; ruby red lipstick heated plasma seeping into the ground. Let the children not hear the rattling sounds; let our spirits go before we're found, Alfonzo prayed because he didn't want to see mourning on the faces of the young.

  A shaky hand slid across the grass to the fingers of his beloved –Selange. Do or die, the three words were eerily profound.

  “Te amo, neña…te amo esposa…gracias for this beautiful life.” Alfonzo croaked in Spanglish as he’d done many times uptown, in the playgrounds and with concrete people with disillusion plagued minds.

  His eyes flicked to the sky, always to the sky they beseeched. Flat on his back, he could see the heavens teasing his ass. Bad as a boy, murderous as an adult, the likelihood of his acceptance was as slim as an infant applying for college and getting in.

  He tried to kick, but the bullets had struck nerves. He was bleeding out, casually drifting with the flow, letting go of the fullness of living.

  Alfonzo squeezed Selange’s lifeless fingers that grew cold and he heard the priest ask, “Do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

  “I do,” he answered. “In death we will never part.”

  Spasmodic grips to his flesh occurred, followed by tugs to his skin by unknown hands guiding him to that dark place for bad people with hell shrieks.

  In the darkness, kilometers outside a villa, fate returned a loving couple to the dirt surrounded by brave corpses of soldiers.  Egyptian Kings and Queens were buried in their finery and cared for in the afterlife by loyal servants. Homage was the silence that settled over the solitary road, standing witness with the executioners to the demise of a Kingpin hustler and his Queen Selange.

  “Al…ouch…Al…wake up!” Selange screamed as Alfonzo thrashed around the bed, mumbling her name as if she was dead, clutching her hands and then smothering her with his bulk until her chest ached. “Oww…you’re crushing me!”

  She managed to free her hands and slapped at his face until Alfonzo’s bloodshot eyes flew open. They glistened like washed marbles, his heart raced when he realized Selange was pinned by his body weight. He scrambled upright as if he’d risen from a bed of worms. The chiseled torso heaved, animating the body art on the muscle skin. He shimmered from sweat. An invisible chill brought a shiver to his interior at the mere thought of Selange dying that way.

  “Shit, ah shit babe, lo siento –lo siento!” He exclaimed after coming back to the earth. He considered going for a drink.

  “Al…what the heck? Are you okay?” Selange inquired in a buttery voice that also quivered.

  He rubbed his eyes with his fists, groaning. Despite the attempt to maintain her composure, those eyes said he had scared her shitless. “Ah man babe, come here,” he said and waited until she slid up to hug her tight. “Are you alright?”

  Selange squinted as she looked sideways and up. “I’m fine, what about you?”

  Alfonzo sighed. He’d never divulge the details of the dream; she might worry –as usual.

  “Just a bad dream.” He chuckled. “Like we say to the kids.”

  Selange didn’t smile. Of course, Alfonzo experienced bad dreams, taking lives affects people with a conscience. Ever since they returned from Africa, Alfonzo seemed to have more of them. Then again, they began prior to the funeral. Yes, when he returned from that business trip, he had one then.

  “What did you dream about?”

  Alfonzo waved his hand and yawned. “I don’t remember.”

  “You mean you’re not telling me, huh?” She snuggled closer. “It’s okay, keep your secrets. I can share my nightmare. I’m superstitious. They say when you talk about bad dreams when you’re awake, nothing will happen.”

  He wanted to laugh instead Alfonzo gazed downward. Why did she look so hot, even with those ugly flexible rollers in her hair?  That innocent face hadn’t changed much, but he could see the stresses slowly dulling the compassionate eyes. He cringed at the thought of Teresa's treachery. She deserved more than death for working with the police.

  Selange, geez…lo siento neña I have you in a mes
s. Yet you hold me down and make this shit normal for me and the children.

  “Share,” he said, wiggling his back, reshaping the pillow for more lumbar support.

  Selange’s cheek remained attached to his pectoral. He liked the warmth on his skin, a sign she lived and he wasn’t unfeeling.

  “I had a dream we were lying in a pool of blood and you were saying hold on babe…hold on…but your voice started to fade away. That’s when you were doing all that craziness and I woke up, but in my dream, I didn’t see the end but honey,” she climbed over his legs, straddling him not for sex but comfort and cried the words he envisioned in an unwritten script. “It felt so real…honey I’m shaking…it felt like we died…and…and…all I thought about is how that’ll devastate our children.”

  Alfonzo’s chest collapsed. “We’re not going anywhere, at least you’re not.”

  Then she looked her husband in the eye, and stroked the fine stubble on his chin with her thumb. “Al, I love our children. But, I can’t lie honey; I won’t be the same without you.”

  “Selange if anything happens to me, you’re going to be fine. I know you’ll take care of our family. That’s what I want you to do, comprende?” he caressed her soft arms and then lifted her chin. “You know, the first time I saw you, I had this strange sensation in my gut.” He smiled and his eyes softened to show his pledge of undying love. “I didn’t know what it was. I began to think I had acid reflux or something from all the spicy foods, tu sabe?”

  Selange laughed, shaking her head and chuckling. “I gave you indigestion?”

  His eyes sparkled happily. “Yeah, I developed a case of heartburn loving you so much.”

  “That’s romantic,” her nose crinkled, “-and unromantic at the same time.”

  Alfonzo enjoyed teasing his wife. “But, you’re my peptic remedy.”

  “Yeah right.” She sighed and leaned her forehead to his neck. “Seriously, I wish I could snap my fingers and erase all of our worries. I especially, wish you’d stop eating spicy foods because your farts are killers.”

  Alfonzo guffawed. “Hey, yours don’t smell like roses, I hate to break it to you chica.”

  Selange’s chin rose regally as she peered down her nose. “Must you know sir, I am a delicate flower with floral scented flatulence and you are a barbarian.”

  “Bullshit, you’re from Marcy projects my lady, but I still love you.” He descended lower, holding her waist and laughing in her face until she kissed his mouth and then blew hard inside.

  “Taste my minty fresh breath, potty mouth.”

  “More like puppy breath,” he teased. Actually, she did taste like mints.

  “I can tell your rude ass is from uptown.”

  “And people from Brooklyn think it’s a state. We’re from Nueva York, tu sabé mami?”

  “Oh you went to the lower level of the basement with that statement.”

  The handsome face contorted. “Up –town people are always up on their feet and far ahead of the pack. Keep up or stay your ass in Broke-Land, babe where the slower people walk.”

  Selange laughed. Damn, Alfonzo had mental shotguns out, but she liked it. Testing how fast a person can retort with witticisms is a game in the ‘hood. She and Shanda did it all the time. Verbally sparring with friends is fun, the past time can get ugly though and you need a tough skin when things turn personal. 

  Hurry up and put his fine tush in place, she mentally rallied.

  “First of all, uptown is a direction, not a borough or a state. I guess Columbia mistook you for a cucaracha and that’s how you got in to claim the degree for the entire colony. Oh by the way, I saw your familia downtown entering the criminal court building counting monopoly money thinking they could bail your ass out with it but wait, maybe it was food stamps. I’m not sure because I don’t play games or believe Uncle Sam is really my Tio.”

  “Ah shit, that’s cold –real cold.” Alfonzo smirked and rubbed his chin. She had socked him with a negative stereotype and he deemed it fair to respond. “Alright Selange my chica. Wait, is that your real name or is it Shameka Shaquana Símama? By the way, what’s up with you and your cliques sporting knock-offs and rocking Payless hooker heels that you’ve painted red at the bottom and added studs and spikes to the straps?”

  Selange mushed his head. She owned a pair of Christian Louboutin Botticellita’s. The shoes Red Bottoms were expensive. The on-line auction for many of her designer items brought in an impressive sum, which she used for facility maintenance in New York and Puerto Rico. The donators were scaling back. The non-profit community as a whole was suffering. Her charity wasn’t exempt. “But, didn’t you suggest I do that? You showed me your imitation Cartier that you glued miniature cubic zirconia on and said you saw a rich guy with one and made your own and I should do the same thing. Isn’t that what you advised Fonzie Pooh?”

  “Now you’re talking nonsense and don’t call me that corny ass name. I don’t wear knock-offs babe, or envy anybody. You’re definitely tripping now.”

  “Awww, did I hurt your feelings, papi?” She laughed, jutting her bosom in his face and wiggling them like a hoochie for a laugh. “Don’t worry; I’ll give you some pussy so you can feel like a conqueror.”

  Alfonzo shook his head. “Your trash talking is getting personal. You’re definitely from the broken ‘hood, pissed because they’re orphaned and have to walk over bridges to see a Mami and Papi.”

  “Oh, um, do you need a tit pacifier because you sound pitiful?”

  “Nah, babe, I took it easy on you.”

  “What? No, you folded. I’m the winner.”

  “Nah, you put your tits in my face. That’s a sex foul, there’s no use of sexual parts to distract your opponent. You chica are unfair.”

  “Nothing is fair when you’ve gotten your ass beaten. Suck it up, I won.”

  “Qué? Ah man, those are fighting words that require tongue,” he said, simultaneously slipping his hands beneath her camisole to fondle her breasts and kissing her throat. “Um, mami, you’re making me miss New York.”

  “Yeah, too bad you sold your brownstone to me.”

  He stopped. “Que? I didn’t sell it to you.”

  She smiled, leaning over to tousle his glossy black hair. “You did. It was a third party transaction. I couldn’t let prime real estate like that go –and I know you really loved that place. Freddie didn’t ruin the good memories I had.”

  “Wow. I’m impressed.” He caressed her smooth skin, touching the healed gunshot wound. “You’re crafty. Sometimes, I forget how industrious you are.” He grinned and the dimple popped like bling. “When I have down time, we’ll slip in the city for a visit, incognito, rocking wife beaters and our kicks”

  “I’m not the sneaker girl, remember?”

  “And I’m not the sneaker hombre, but, if you want to hang without being harassed we need to fit in with our peeps. Strutting your ass in a fancy dress will only invite attention, feel me?”

  “When you say that, I do want to feel you.”

  Selange put her hands in his shorts when she said that and he reclined even more. “Damn, you went there?” he said mocking her while rubbing her neck, allowing her to work magic with a pleasurable finger and palm massage.

  He looked forward to taking her to that spot where he chilled near Columbia to eat. His brows wrinkled when he suddenly remembered the place was one of his favorite eateries, that served Eritrean and Ethiopian cuisine. Strange, back then, he didn’t have an inkling about his African ancestry or hers, yet he loved the exotic taste of the foods long before they met.

  In fact, it wierded him out that the elder Giacanti knew so much about Selange’s Ethiopian heritage. He could’ve been lying, but it didn’t matter. Selange seemed to enjoy hearing about the culture. Apparently, they were destined to be together if one believed in omens or her relation to the Queen of Sheba, thus, her regal airs, he smirked. Selange commandeered the old man’s book, and read whenever she had the chanc
e. The way she took to the pages you’d think the book was an ancient scroll.

  Then again, Selange was a sexy geek!

  “When can we go?” she asked in a husky voice that relayed her desire for sex.

  “Uh…damn babe,” he said followed by a grunt. “In a few weeks. I’ll make the time.” He lifted her slip and clamped his mouth to a perky breast. “Umm, I need to thank BK for this fine cuisine.”

  “That tickles,” she said as he began flicking his tongue around her nipple, and then gently biting the nub.  “Honey, I need a large donation to cover the tuition for three at NYU. This year we don’t have enough in the budget. I also need a huge favor.”

  “You need me?”

  “Honey I need you so bad I’m drooling from below at the thought.”

  Selange had him in that mood where he’d give her anything. However, he learned to always ask questions when someone’s buttering him up, and that includes his wife. Love hadn’t caused a fatal brain injury. “What’s the favor and why don’t you have the finances to cover the scholarships? Have any of your contributors pulled out?”

  She kissed his cheek, licking the indentation along the bone. “I’ve noticed a decrease in donations. Some of my loyal backers have fallen on hard times. They’ve sent what they can but I need the money in the fund for disbursement this quarter or I might face an audit.”

  Alfonzo made a mental note to check into this. “Okay, now what’s the favor that has to be asked while my dick is on high alert?”

  “Ari’s planning a surprise birthday party for Nico on the seventeenth. Can you make sure he’s not working and get him to Sophie’s before eight?”

  Alfonzo stretched his neck as she licked his jugular and then went up over his chin, hovering at the bottom of his lower lip as she gave him a lube job making it hard to think. Another mental note; Clear my calendar and Nico’s the night of the seventeenth or I’ll never hear the end of the shit.

  “Enough with the chit-chat babe, I don’t want the stress of a list before we make love.”

  Her hands slipped free from his staff as he hungrily nibbled and sucked on her lips, enjoying her musical chuckles as she struggled to remove her feminine boxers that he purchased. He busted her sleeping in his after returning from a business trip and decided he’d buy her some girly ones.