Sergio showed his empty hands. “I wouldn’t steal from you Uncle Nico.” He laughed. “Yo, I get in the pussy and it doesn’t matter how I get in as long as my dick gets to swim.”
“Be careful young buck, you might find yourself in diseased infected waters.”
“I got it covered Uncle. It’s called protection.”
Nico scoffed. “You put it over your mouth, too when you’re eating or over your skin?”
Sergio’s grin faded. “See now why you have to go there with that shit?”
Nico smirked. “I’m just saying, you can catch diseases other ways. Swopping spit with someone who has HSV-1 and HSV-2. Blisters aren’t always visible; sometimes carriers may not have any symptoms. Kissing, skin to skin contact is also how it’s transmitted. You ever heard of heard of Herpes Simplex, Casanova?”
Sergio’s grossed out expression produced a laugh from his Uncle and his nose flared in disgust. “Come on now, damn. See, I’m not feeling this conversation.”
The fun was over. Nico put his feet up and his hands behind his head and relaxed. “Is money and pussy the only thing on your brain Sergio?”
“For the most part.”
“What about honor, duty, loyalty?”
“I honor cash, dutifully pursue it and loyally spend it.”
“What about family, is there loyalty there?”
Sergio scoffed. “That goes without saying.”
“Spending your entire mom’s insurance money and not giving any to your sister was pretty low, don’t you think?”
Sergio swallowed his shame. “I fucked up, you ever fuck up Uncle?”
“Yes I have…royally and I pay for it every day.”
There was a brief silence, but Sergio never stayed quiet long. The man’s mouth had to move. “You’d said my dad got killed trying to protect you a while back, is that why you’re such a mean bastard?”
Nico’s eyes were hooded. “I’ve always been a mean bastard; since my brother died I heard I’ve become nicer.”
“Who told you that –Lucifer?”
“Now-now Sergio.”
“So how’d you fuck up anyway, talk to me?”
“A woman’s often the reason men fuck up. Covetousness is right up there with greed,” Nico said as his eyes began to slowly close and then he added. “Wipe the crap from your brain about this family. If and when the time is right, we’ll have a sit down and I’ll give you the 4-1-1,
then
young buck you’ll have a chance to put some money where your mouth is.” His eyes shut to avoid any further conversation. Aaron had his dad’s mannerisms, except he used those earphones and observed –everything.
The slick ass kid
!
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
On the trading floor, people jostled each other, watching monitors and talking excitedly about the morning guest. Alfonzo’s blank expression was really indifference as he peered over the balcony which overlooked the entire floor. Alfonzo’s eyebrow ascended when he spotted a female trader among the sea of men lean over to retrieve a paper. From the height, Alfonzo had a good view of her hefty breasts.
Nice.
Alfonzo considered her tits the intermission and then returned his attention to the zoo where hard-ons came from trading other’s money. Someone passed Alfonzo a large gavel and nodded for him to ring the bell to signify the New York stock Exchange was up and running. He struck the bell and the excited energy, shouts and scurrying here and there began among the anxious zoo animals.
He set about shaking clammy, nervous hands, patted shoulders and got the hell out before the animals devoured him with their greedy eyes. The man leading the zoo animals, Seth Meyer was the most carnivorous of them all. He led Alfonzo through the jungle for breakfast nearby.
Shortly later, Alfonzo sat across from the bald stout guy in a packed upscale restaurant watching him eat while sipping his coffee.
“Thanks for coming down Mr. Diaz. I’m sure that’ll spike an upsurge in your company’s stocks.” His stubby fingers held the fork, pointing to the table as he talked. “Hell, nowadays people turn on the tube and see a handsome guy they’ll buy into whatever he’s selling. You should’ve brought your pretty black wife. A white-Spanish man and a woman of color,” he guffawed, “oh that would bring in many investors looking to support successful minority owned businesses.”
“My
Queen
is not a topic of discussion and I damn sure don’t pimp her to further my business.”
“Well, you should consider it.”
Alfonzo’s eyes grew mean. “I haven’t seen your wife on any billboards Seth with her pasty legs and tits on display.”
“Hell, she’s too ugly. She’s a good mother though, but hasn’t aged well if you know what I mean.”
Alfonzo thought of Sergio. Last time they spoke, the slick talker used the phrase, ‘you know what I’m saying?’ This educated multi-millionaire had a more polished approach but he and Sergio wasn’t much different. At least with Sergio, hunger was the motivation; Seth Meyer’s motivation was greed.
“Every woman’s beautiful and it’s only an ugly sonovabitch who’d disparage his wife.”
The man’s fork slightly trembled and he back pedaled when he noticed Alfonzo’s face tighten and jaw clench. The man had a quick temper and he tried not to ruffle his feathers. “Yes, you’re right. Terrible joke.”
“Terribly asinine and offensive, don’t you agree?”
“I agree, sorry if I offended you Mr. Diaz, it was very insensitive,” Seth Meyer responded with a more sincere apology. “The joke was in bad taste.” No small talk or ice-breakers is what Mr. Diaz let him know in no uncertain terms. His voice went up an octave. “I believe your company’s stocks will rebound by the closing bell. I understand an Italian businessman has purchased hefty shares in your enterprise just this morning.”
Alfonzo’s antennae rose. “Who?”
“DeMarco and Sons. Have you heard of them?”
“Of course.”
“Well, when investors learn DeMarco’s buying shares, they’ll follow suit. They’ll see it as a show of confidence and take more risks.”
“Humph.” Alfonzo quietly digested the information. Bruno buying stock in any of his holdings made him uneasy. It was time to speak to Bruno, crack his skull if necessary to find out what the hell the man was up to. Alfonzo’s mood switched from patronizing to downright annoyed when Seth continued talking.
“How do you explain competitors with equally competent companies like Nysac and Tennen having a huge disparity in stock valuation, Mr. Diaz?” The asshole asked.
Alfonzo’s eyebrow lifted. When had the conversation shifted? Perhaps, when his mind wandered to Bruno. Despite the transient lapse, he was able to follow along. This was about image
and consumer confidence. Did they correlate? To some degree, but he wanted the talkative fool’s opinion, since the arrogant sonovabitch had an answer for everything. “Tell me.”
“The face of Tennen is a handsome young entrepreneur and Nysac’s CEO is a saggy jowl old man.”
“Humph.”
“And Tennen has the flashy commercials, hook’s you with the smile of sincerity in his product and bam, stocks shoot to the roof.”
Alfonzo found the conversation boring. Their opinions differed; an arrogant white man who believes he can answer every riddle has little in common with a street seasoned professor of people. Their philosophical commonality is ‘money makes the world go round’. “Tennen’s stock values have increased because he’s outsourced jobs which shrunk his overhead and manufacturing costs. He can sell more for less giving him an upper hand on his competitor whose commitment to the American economy has given him a huge deficit because loving your country nowadays and doing what’s right for the American worker means fucking yourself in the ass!”
The clinking of glasses and forks stopped. The self-important people eating in their sheltered luxury probably never knew what it felt like to be hungry or had to rely on a paycheck which was far too small to cover enormous living expenses. Many were so far out of touch with the struggling working class it angered Alfonzo. They sat there, stuffing fat guts pushed against white linen cloths, with shiny silver forks, unlike the smudged utensils haphazardly tossed in dishwashers at low-end eateries and recycled to hardworking customers without care, oblivious to how their greed was killing the American economy.
Everyone resumed talking, more quietly and with anxious glances toward Alfonzo’s table. He didn’t give a damn, shake their house, rattle it is how he felt, just as his had been as a kid. Worry is what he did when his mom worked late and her feet hurt from standing all day and the money she made sometimes required hard decisions on what to pay, the utility bills, rent or food. Fuck these people, his mind shouted and fuck this prick for suggesting he’d ever stoop as low to prostitute his wife as a means to an end!
Alfonzo’s sneer revealed the gleam of canines and pink gums. He slowly refolded the monogrammed napkin and placed it
on the edge of the saucer. The breakfast concluded. He’d made an appearance as promised. Kissing ass wasn’t included in his business strategy. His purpose for coming was to let the Head Jackass of the Zoo know, ‘fix my problem and make sure there are no more rumors circulating on the floor about any of my CEO’s or I’ll ice you motherfucker!’
He thanked Mr. Meyer for the breakfast, although he’d consumed only coffee and a Quinoa salad for energy while the swine ate heartily. He was eager to bounce out of there to take care of other pressing business. This was merely a formality. A handshake kept things running smoothly. Small extensions of a businessman to ensure his associates investments stayed prosperous, sometimes dealing with wolves required him to growl to make it clear he was leader of the pack. This is how he made mafia men rich.
When he turned to exit, Mr. Meyer released a nervous breath.
A lower ranking guard held open the restaurant door for his boss. He brought Juanito, mainly because he wanted Estefan with his family. He preferred the professional seasoned guy guarding
them. Estefan was good, not on Nico’s caliber, but damn close to it. The Serano’s were in a class by themselves. Yeah, Vincent the Capo and friend could never be replaced. Everyone fell short…even Nico.
The shiny sports car with the custom black rims waited with a smiling Emilio at the wheel. Alfonzo settled in the backseat checking his messages. Nico had company coming along for their meet.
Alfonzo pointed forward with a finger and Emilio drove. On the ride he made a call. “You made the transfer?”
The man on the other line answered in the affirmative.
“Three times his salary, right?”
“Yes,” the voice replied.
Alfonzo thanked him and checked his watch. “Emilio I need to make a stop at One Police Plaza.”
“Alright.”
The yellow cabs bogarted the street. Emilio handled the traffic like a native. The four lanes of Park Row were closed to vehicular traffic and Alfonzo told Emilio to let him out and circle back in a few. “Stay here,” he said to Juanito in Spanish before walking casually toward the rectangular building at 1PP. Pedestrians crisscrossed the sidewalk. The area was busy, close to City Hall and the Brooklyn Bridge, it remained active.
The building’s rusty brick color had a brutalist design, spawned from the modernist architectural movement. A horizontal inverted pyramid type structure with thirteen floors which reminded him of a school somewhat, but then he grinned, nah, more like public fucking housing.
The uninspiring concrete painted courtyard had some red pop art sculpture thingy that he found equally uninteresting. Some huge circular piece of metal with a base painted red as if it should be in a playground for kids to climb on and bang. He opened the glass door and stepped into the lobby where metal detectors were manned by uniformed officers with serious faces.
“Can I help you?” an officer asked before he reached there.
“Sure, I’m here to see Deputy Commissioner Johnson.”
Alfonzo noticed an officer near an east wall peer over. His nervous expression caused Alfonzo to inwardly smile.
Yep, go alert your peers!
He heard the whispers as the officer who asked his business informed him the Deputy Commissioner was not in.
Alfonzo glanced leisurely at his watch. “Damn I guess Carl forgot about our meeting this morning. You sure he’s not here, I’ve called his cell…” Alfonzo removed the traceable cell from his pocket with Mr. Johnson’s unlisted number programmed in. “I’ll call him.”
He stood there as the cell rang and a deep voice answered, “Deputy Commissioner Johnson.”
“Hi Carl, it’s Alfonzo. Looks like you forgot about our appointment.”
“How did you get this number?”
Alfonzo ignored the prick’s question. “No problem we can catch up some other time.” An unrehearsed laugh escaped as Mr. Johnson sputtered incoherently. Alfonzo continued to talk over the shocked man, “Yes, my wife appreciated the congratulatory card. Alright, we’ll have breakfast or lunch another day. Take care.”
Alfonzo noticed there were more officers mingling about, some with fingers a tad too close to their firearms. He shrugged.
“Looks like Carl forgot. Thanks officer,” he said before waving good-bye.