“We are eating lunch.”
She heard a woman cooing in the background, speaking her son’s name. She was probably some whore he knew. He had the nerve to take her child to another woman. Her anger increased. “Bring him home.”
“He is fine donna. We are enjoying a meal together.”
Shanda’s eyes widened. She palmed her forehead in mortification. Was Giuseppe trying to kill her, seriously, didn’t he understand the baby was far too young to be in public spaces? “What have you fed the baby; he doesn’t have teeth?”
“Ah, you worry too much. He is fine. We will be home later. He and I are having fun. Go shopping, enjoy the day. It is bellissimo outdoors. Ciao donna.”
He hung up.
The insufferable baby stealer hung up.
Shopping my ass!
Shanda dressed in record time. Damn she looked good for a rush job in her authentic designer duds, day make-up and stilettos. His guys knew where Giuseppe went and she’d have a driver take her straight there to bring Carlo home. She checked her reflection once more in the mirror before marching downstairs to the front door.
The minute she stepped out, the guard said, “Buongiorno.”
She smiled innocently. “Buongiorno. Giuseppe asked me to bring the baby’s pacifier to him. Can someone drive me there?”
The guard did not question her statement. “I will see.” He pulled out his phone and spoke to someone in the language she had yet to understand.
Maybe, she better learn Italian.
He finished talking and slipped the cell in his pocket. “Excusi, but Signore Dichenzo say the child is fine without the pacifier. It is okay, you go ...eh…he say…fun…have fun today.”
Oh snap, Giuseppe’s men were trained pit-bulls. This wasn’t the low level street crews from the BK. The guys in the
syndicate were professional criminals who took this Don shit seriously and weren’t swayed by a pretty woman with killer boobs. Okay, she had to change tactics. Giuseppe was a master game player. So far he’d won this hand. Brooklyn people adapt and that’s exactly what she did, she changed strategies.
Three cards Monte is what Giuseppe played as if she were a newbie when New York and Vegas hustlers perfected the scam. She gripped the key to her sports car and addressed the guard. “You know, shopping is just what I’ll do.”
“Security will accompany you.”
“No, I’m fine. Feed the dog for me. Thanks. Ciao or whatever the hell you people say. Bye!” She waved and scurried to the garage.
The security guard was on the phone, undoubtedly checking with his master. She made it inside the sleek car, got the engine going and sped to the gate. The guard there hadn’t received instruction to halt her departure or maybe his mind was rattled as he ogled her cleavage. This is the guy who once secured the door. Giuseppe should remove his butt. Tits easily distracted the damn fool. But, today Shanda was glad he monitored the gate when he allowed her to exit. “Grazie!”
The return smile resembled a Chester cat.
Shanda switched gears and zipped into the street. The tires squealed, spinning on the asphalt, burning rubber up the street. Rap music blared from the Bose speakers and Shanda bopped in sync, but the lyrics she sang were different. Her words were, “So you think you’re a hot-shot, you gonna’ feel your ass drop, ‘cause we’re playing I-Declare-War!”
The game began. Shop, yes Shanda shopped. Dior, Gucci, Armani and every designer store she found. At the end of the spending spree she enjoyed a meal at a fancy restaurant, drawing appreciative stares from men. Italian males were very friendly, one boldly ventured forward from the bar, introduced himself and sat down.
Shanda stayed cool. She discreetly checked him out. He was no Giuseppe in the looks department. His English was tepid at best and the conversation was strained. She gave him an A for effort, called Giuseppe to check on her son and when he asked her whereabouts, she deliberately paused for him to hear the sounds coming from the atmosphere. She winked at her table mate and the male laughter got Giuseppe’s attention. “Where are you bella?”
“Having dinner and fun like you said. I’ll be home soon, ciao!”
Shanda hung up and took money from her purse, slapped an ample amount of euros on the table and stood. “Ciao!” she said to the man and strut out the door.
“Take that Giuseppe!”
CHAPTER FIVE
Nico’s sudden appearance shocked the hell out of Sergio. After the diner incident he thought his Uncle had written him off. Apparently, he came to his senses and realized family came first.
He picked up his gear bag. The practice game was over. Five hours of running around with old-timers had given him enough of a work-out. The muscles in his legs were aching and he’d caught the hard ball the wrong way which resulted in a sore thumb that throbbed badly.
He waved good-bye to the guys. “See you old fart tomorrow for the game. Don’t forget I want my four hundred before I play.”
The heavily accented co-captain nodded. “Be ready to play bright and early youngling. Ya’ get ya’ money then, y' hear?”
“Shit, I’ll be here ahead of time. I’m out!” Sergio said over his shoulder.
He adjusted the gear strap and searched the landscape for any sign of his Uncle, finding none he exited the field.
Sergio dropped the bag in the trunk of his car. Nico said Chip’s man came to extend a job offer, but he wasn’t interested.
Heck, if Chip’s being generous, maybe he’ll cut a dude a break. My own damn family won’t! Is the sentiment which entered Sergio’s head. He was down to a few dollars, Tonya wasn’t talking to him and he could use the cash to make good on a family debt. He looked at his car, it was fly but it seemed nobody wanted to pay his asking price. Haggle, haggle, haggle, is what cheap motherfuckers did. At this rate he’d never be able to look his sister in the face, again.
“Phew,” he sighed and then got in the car. Tomorrow night after he helped the oldies win, he’d have cash in his pocket. He had spoken with a girl he met in Bed Stuy and they were hooking up after the game. Maybe he’d take her to see a flick and a cheap dinner. She was the ghetto fabulous type of girl, superficial and with her nose in the air. But, her requirements were rather low. Any good-looking dude, with a nice whip, who knew how to work the dick in that pussy easily secured a place in her heart. The
problem is, sometimes the ghetto divas started making claims on a brother and it’s exactly the reason why none of them knew where he lived.
He started the car, cranked up the volume and rolled out. This was his joint playing. The damn song by T.I was a classic. Rihanna’s intro wafted through his head and he smiled. He loved some island girls. Rihanna was from Barbados. Yeah, island girls are hot!
‘You're gonna be a shining star,
with fancy clothes, fancy car-ars
…
So live your life, ay ay ay.
You steady chasing that paper…
Aint got no time for no haters…Cause I'm a paper chaser…
’
Sergio leaned back as he drove. When T.I’s verse started, Sergio leaned forward over the steering wheel invisibly pulled into the lyrical flow.
“Never mind what haters say, ignore them 'til they fade away.
Amazing they ungrateful for after all the games I gave away
…
Consider them my protégé, homage I think they should pay.
Instead of being gracious, they violate in a major way.
I never been a hater still I love them, in a crazy way.
Some say they sold the yay and no they couldn't even work on Labor Day.
It aint that black and white, it has an area that's shaded grey
…
Some move away to make a way not move away
cause they afraid.
I brought back to the hood and all you ever did was take away.
I pray for patience
but
they make me wanna
melt their face away.”
Sergio drummed the steering wheel with his hands, totally pumped. Excited, he voiced aloud, “That’s right boy-e –go after the paper and live your life. That’s right. To hell with motherfucking haters who want to stop a brother from getting ahead. They aren’t giving shit to a brother except a headache!”
~
Nico exited the Long Island Expressway, monitoring the rear view mirror like a hawk. There wasn’t anybody following, but he always checked to make sure. He and Ari’s song played. It’s a tune they danced to before their lives completely changed. It’s also the last time Ari saw her parents.
He drove through the familiar suburbs of the Long Island community, eyeing the occasional jogger, dog walkers and gardeners with dispassion. These were their routines, something he never had. He didn’t feel envy or interest in their lives; in fact, he was an empty void of emotion unless it was family.
Family is what he lived for. They were the people he cared for and protected; it’s also why he was there unannounced on a Friday afternoon.
Ari’s parents lived in a community of healthy trees and manicured gardens. It’s a quiet suburb with clean streets and homes separated by natures’ demarcations. Here, there weren’t
large fences or painted wooden gates. Residents knew their neighbors and the police by name.
Nico signaled left on Harrington Road, slowed when he neared a broken yellow line and rolled across the lane onto a residential street lined with cute little homes. The Mattheson’s house was at the far end of the street, one of the bigger Colonial style structures. He pulled straight into the driveway facing the two car garage, shut down the engine and stepped out clutching the key.
His long legs encased in dark cotton slacks reached the landing to the house and the door was opened before his finger touched the bell.
“Nico, I can’t believe it. I was wondering who was pulling into my driveway. Oh goodness, you’ve surprised me again. Come here and give me a hug!” Ari’s mother exclaimed.
She didn’t need to ask. He’d always loved Ari’s mother. He embraced the small lady tightly and smiled as her husband appeared at her back. “Good afternoon Mr. Mattheson,” Nico said.
“How are you Nico, how’s my little girl doing and them boys?”
“They’re fine.”
Mrs. Mattheson shut the door and Nico was shooed into the living room. “Come on, sit down. I’ll get you something to eat.”
Nico never declined a good woman’s food. He accepted the hospitality and followed Mr. Mattheson into the nicely furnished sitting area.
Peppered with gray around the edges of his hair and skin the color of Victorian mahogany, Mr. Mattheson was as formidable in his senior years as the day they first met. Ari had brought Nico home to meet her parents nearly seventeen years ago and he remembered the man’s probing questions as he tried to ascertain Nico’s romantic intentions. The shock on her father’s face when Ari said they were married was imprinted on Nico’s brain.
Nico sat opposite his former father-in-law and they made eye contact. It’s Mr. Mattheson who initiated further communication. “Are you taking care of my little girl, son?”
“Yes, sir.”
“It’s a sad time for me and the wife. Not seeing our daughter or the grandkids isn’t easy.”
“I understand.”
“The morning the cops gave us the news we grieved. It was real; we weren’t acting. Letting go of our child is a pain close to death, you understand what I’m saying?”
Nico’s eyes remained on the older man’s face. “Yes.”
“This trouble or whatever it is my daughter got mixed up in doesn’t change how we feel. We love her Nico, she’s our baby girl!” the man said forcefully.
Nico remained impassive. The ice thinned in his veins. “I know.”
“We want to see our daughter and grandchildren. We’ve done everything you said, now do this for an old man, son.”
Nico reached in his pocket and pulled out a brochure, with plane tickets tucked inside. “Your anniversary is coming around if I recall. “
Mrs. Mattheson joined the pair and sat a plate of Caribbean food on the coffee table and handed Nico a knife and fork in a napkin. “Eat up and then we want to hear what we’re missing.”
Nico nodded, taking the utensils and placing the travel documents in her hand. “I was just telling your husband, this is a gift for your anniversary.”
The woman opened the brochure and examined the tickets. They were first class seats out of JFK next week to Paris and another scheduled flight after a three day lay over to Rome. The hotel brochure had an itinerary of events and something she had to read twice to believe. “Nico,” she said looking at him in awe, “is this what I think it is?”
“Yes, we want you present for the birth. Everything’s arranged. Someone will contact you in Rome when it’s time and bring you to Ari.”
Tears formed in the petite woman’s eyes. Ari in the seasoned days of life was Nico’s observation. A beautiful sight to behold and a picture of what his woman would later become.