Adversary (14 page)

“Nah, I believe Anita lurks at the bedroom door,” he tried to joke.

A half-smile formed on her lips. “I hope not.”

He scooted back with her between his legs to the padded headboard. He could tell the nightmare rattled her to the core, but his wife as usual wanted to seal the door. The part of a husband who’d slay men for his family sat helpless as he sought to wiggle his way beneath her emotional stronghold. He tread very carefully. Sometimes the mind holds tragedy at bay as a defense mechanism and pushing her to talk when she wasn’t ready might result in a total shut-down. He rubbed her arms, ignoring the razor sharp stings to his chest left by her fingernails. “I hear talking about a nightmare helps. You want to share?”

Selange rested her head on his shoulder, closed her eyes and sighed. Just having him here, holding her made it all better. She couldn’t undo the past, change anything about it. Her parents were gone, a fetus never lived. Too much sorrow came from dwelling on what might have been. What strength she found upon waking to the reality Alfonzo lived. Goodness, how comforting to lie in her husband’s arms and breathe through the pain. Her hand caressed his chest. The dampness on her hand was his blood and she turned sad. “I scratched you?”

“It’s nothing, trust me,” he frowned. The blue eyes were hooded. She hadn’t answered his question and he worried. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, PTSD is some scary shit to witness. That’s what the therapist she’d seen during their divorce called what occurred at sporadic moments, triggers as innocuous as a color could set it off. This nightmare was bad. He caressed her back, pressing a palm to her spine and held on to her –tightly. “So what happened in this dream?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

Ah, now here the fuck we go with that man-woman bull-shit. What the fuck, did women think men didn’t have emotions other than pleasure from their dicks? Did she know he suffered after the shootings to the point where he couldn’t goddamn perform during sex? He rubbed his chin, stroking it to soothe the ill-temper seeping up to his mouth. The uplifted eyebrow was a sword of black fine hairs. He stopped massaging her to say, “Everything you feel, every goddamn pain you go through I suffer it too.” He beat at his heart. “Never tell me that I can’t understand how it feels to lose a dream…to…” He shook his head. “Not cool babe…not cool,” Alfonzo said as he reined in the anguish. He jerked the shit right back inside and closed his eyes to steady the tremble of his broken heart.

Selange breathed in, trying not to cry, asking in silent screams for her mother’s help. She’d dug in deep at the charity, worked around the house, and busied herself with the kids to avoid thinking or dreaming. The images were getting worse and she didn’t know if she was losing her mind. The other night she literally broke out in a cold sweat.

She shivered suddenly. Alfonzo set aside frustration to pull his wife up more to face him and with palms to her cheeks and an intent stare he decided not to allow her to run anymore. “You talk to me. Tell me what you’re going through. This is why I’m here babe. No more suffering in silence dammit let me help.”

She choked a sob. “I’m scared to sleep. I keep seeing too many bloody things.”

“Aw babe…aw…nena…what do you see…share with me?”

Her lip trembled violently and he knew from the quiver she’d say, “Babies, my dad, my mom, everything.”

Every why, every goddamn riddle that never fully received an answer got solved. It wasn’t only the anniversary of a parent’s death she harbored; it was the fear of loss. A bright light turned on. Keep it hidden is what she’d done for years, hadn’t she? Covered and smothered fear with bravery presented for his peace and these nocturnal terrors were the cost. Oh, an ass and a blind fool is what he’d been.  Cut and bleeding, shot and burned to a corpse his wretched soul. The wounds to the flesh were nothing compared to her pain. Nico saw it; the sonovabitch was there putting ointment on her festering sores. But her husband was here, completely on guard and never a day forward would he let her perish for his sins. Lift up this fallen warrior heart, lift her up you sonovabitch with your love are the words that set the course!

“It’s okay love…it’s okay,” he said tenderly and pressed his mouth to her forehead. There his lips attached to talk to skin letting his affectionate words permeate the pores of her soul. “We lost something that wasn’t meant to be. I know how much it hurts, I’m suffering with you at the death of our possibility but when I look at what I have…you…us…our kids…breathing…I’m humbled to have that. Cry on me, claw me every night if you have to in order to grieve but don’t hold it in babe…please…don’t hide anymore, don’t try to protect me.”

Then she sobbed pitifully just like Allie and Alfonzo’s embrace brought them closer, breathing in sync their woes. Hold me; she thought when the downpour became a flood. Always hold me is what she wanted from this great love that each night she dreamed would be taken away. Protect him is the prayers a frightened heart asked the universe because death surrounded their happiness. In the recent onset of horrific images, she failed to mention that with the bloody visions of babies she also saw his face –separate from his body.

A decapitation.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Brooklyn, the BK, do or die as the natives liked to say when repping their borough with pride. Alfonzo wasn’t from Brooklyn, but Selange was and the moniker he agreed fit her to a tee. He gripped her hand as they walked the burgundy carpet with small floral designs accented along the edge. She wore a stunning teal gown, which concealed her long gorgeous legs. Tasteful and elegant as always, his babe. He squeezed her fingers and she turned with the smoky eyes and he winked and got her to smile.

On the left of them was Tony and his lovely lady, elegant in an off the shoulder number that fit like a glove on the dancer’s body making her man proud. Acknowledgements in greetings, a stop her and there to shake hands and smile went a long way to keep peace. There were several celebrities in the crowd and a few well-dressed escorts he spotted immediately, don’t ask how, he just did.

“Come this way.” A tuxedoed host said as he escorted the couples to an exclusive closed area on the second floor where the live band entertained the wealthy. The design of the spacious room was somewhat like a skybox, far larger in area, and overlooked the entire lower level.

The carpeting beneath their shoes boasted the casino’s name in rich gold colors, the dinging of slots machines below became muffled once they entered through colored glass doors with armed security posts.

There were dancing couples in the middle of the floor, others suited or in lush finery sprinkled about the circular tables against the walls with drinks and conversation, eyes on who entered without tension.

Massud, the host asked, “Would you like to join a complimentary game of Craps?”

“No thank you, dancing and food is enough,” Alfonzo answered. The disastrous poker game with family left a bad taste in his mouth that hadn’t dissolved completely. Besides, he wasn’t the gambling type. Loosening his pockets enticed by mood lighting to romanticize getting fucked out of a dollar to go in someone else’s pockets he didn’t find fun. He cocked his head at Tony, maybe he might want to dabble there. “You and the lady might have some luck.”

“Want to Tiff?” Tony deferred to his lady and she smiled.

“Why not, we’re T-and-T, trinitrotoluene, let’s blow this place up!”

Alfonzo chuckled at her excitement. There was fun to gambling if you weren’t using your money but if you won, complimentary chips or a voucher is what the winner got, a win-win situation on this opening night. The rich could afford to lose if they chose, but as always received free shit. Alfonzo decided to share it with somebody else.

When they followed Massud, Alfonzo took his wife’s hand and on the dance floor he marched. He came for the music and to dance with his gorgeous wife. A slow tune was perfectly timed when he had her in his arms. “Estoy enamorado, nena.”

“Me too,” she cooed.

“You look hot, you always do.”

Love sparkled in her eyes. Handsome is an understatement to describe her husband. Something about his aura made him super-fine. “You don’t look so bad yourself guapo.”

“Ah, shit,” he said, moving with an extra grind of his pelvis. “My babe thinks I’m handsome, what more can I want?”

A cute giggle made her dimples pop. “Grapes.”

“You trying to get me aroused in public, ‘cause if you are don’t play shy when I fuck you right here on the spot.”

“I dare you.”

A vertical tilt of a dark masculine brow and a hand sliding from her spine to palm her ass, received a squatting for him to stop. “Got scared?” he asked with that wicked grin she loved.

“Ooh you’re bad, I swear.”

“Got that right mami.”

A waitress holding a tray of assorted drinks inquired, “Something to drink, sir, madam?”

“Nah, what about you babe?” he asked Selange.

“No thank you,” she answered, secretly proud of her husband. He actually said no to a drink.

They danced for a long time, until Selange had to confess. “These heels are killing my feet.”

“Alright, get a table and I’ll get us some of that food.” He released her waist, watching her sexy ass sway to a table before hitting the buffet. Shiny silver, aproned servers, fresh steamy vegetables and meats lined the far wall. Desserts, delicate china and the whole enchilada were laid out for the wealthy guests in high-class presentation. Not one loud mouth popping shit, saggy pants obnoxious guest up in this bitch. These were cultured, slick thieves in fancy suits, mannerly brutes who lost and made money with finesse.

“Sir?”

He pointed to the colorful vegetables and scallops. Selange ate like an herbivore, but he was the carnivorous sort and the second plate got loaded with meats and vegetables. The food was carried by a waiter to the table; he didn’t have to touch a thing. Napkins weren’t paper, cloth and monogrammed. Massud had gone all out for tonight. Enticing inducement to get the fellas to return without their women and cut loose at a later date. Yeah, that’s how things worked. Wife tonight, side-chicks or the widely used term mistress tomorrow.

They were eating, people watching. “That one’s an escort,” she said out the blue.

Funny she noticed, because it was true. He found it interesting and asked, “Why do you think that?”

Then a man got schooled. “He’s got money, check his clothes, expensive, she on the other-hand, far less quality. Those aren’t Louboutin’s they’re knock-offs and so is the purse.”

“Doesn’t mean anything,” he replied. Devil’s advocate he played tonight to gauge the full measure not only of her intellect but common sense. “Men often buy one or two very good suits and wear them on special occasions. They could be rich, but maybe he’s cheap or she doesn’t like spending money or clothes but other things.”

A baby carrot was devoured. Her lips never contacted with the fork prongs. She chewed and then said, “Hmmm…that could be true, but he has on a wedding ring, platinum and she doesn’t.”

“She could’ve lost hers.”

Her dimple became more prominent. “He’s likely from the Midwest or south, listen to his southern drawl. He’s also way older than her. Her accent is unmistakably New York.”

“Nothing significant, you can’t build a case on that.”

Then the bomb fell. “They were seated at the table behind us when you went to get the food and he got a call from his wife. There’s an emergency at home and he has to leave. He hung up and told his date they had to cut the evening short but next time he’s in town he’ll give her a call.”

Alfonzo drank water. “Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?”

“What fun is there in that?”

He chuckled. “I guess none.” The reason he knew the woman was an escort was because he had seen her on arms of associates he knew. No mystery.

Then Selange became somber. “A girl who applied for our scholarship died last week.”

“Sorry to hear that,” he said. “What happened?”

“She was leaving a graduation party out in Queens with her friends and near the bus stop shots rang out. Nobody’s sure if there was a beef at the party or if it was gang related but the outcome is somebody snuffed out a dream. The poor girl was shot in the head.”

Alfonzo breathed. “Damn.”

“It’s crazy you know?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Right here in America so many young people in live in a war zone. Good kids are dying. It’s almost as if nobody sees their worth.”

Alfonzo frowned. He knew the sentiment all too well. He lived in the war zone and Selange had too. They were still battling except there’s was a different type of foe. “We see their value and babe that’s why I’m so damn proud of you.” He took her hands in his. “You haven’t forgotten about those kids out there. You’re not doling out rhetoric; you’re helping them climb out of this shit with a rope. Whatever you require of me, money, whatever I got your back, comprende?”

A quivery smile occurred. “I know. That’s why I love you honey.”

Tiffany and Tony returned all smiles and joined their table. Selange cheered to inquire how the game went and Tiffany replied, “I won.”

“That’s cool. By the way I love the dress and the shoes. Dior, right?”

Tiffany gave a curt nod. The woman knew fashion. “Yes.”

“Very nice taste and that ring, wow.”

Tiffany examined her finger; it was pretty nice, wasn’t it? “Thanks and thank you for inviting us.”

“No problem. I understand you’re a dance teacher.”

“Yes.”

“Children are so precious.”

Tiffany nodded. One day she hoped to have a family with Tony. She smiled. “They are.” She’d thought Mrs. Diaz might be one of those stuck-up types, but quickly learned she was far from pretentious. It was cool talking to someone who understood fashion and the necessity of classic items, versus trends. How refreshing to talk without wondering if the other person got it. A woman’s uniqueness isn’t about following but highlighting their individuality.

Tony jutted away for food as they talked. Alfonzo discreetly excused himself to take a call from Nico putting distance from women-talk. He walked out of earshot to stand in an unoccupied section and looked below at the stream of well-dressed people. “Yeah, Nico?”