Adversary (2 page)

There was a cute giggle, which tickled his already sensitive skin, followed by, “Um, that tasted good.”

“Tu mal, you’re not right at all babe. I think I dripped on my pant leg.”

Another giggle. “I’ll buy you more pants.”

“Te quiero esposa. I want you bad,” he replied. “To hell with pants. I can buy my own.”

“You have me love. I’m here waiting. Just hurry home,” she whispered in his ear. “I
trust
you’ll be here real soon right?”

Alfonzo had cleaned off and tossed the soiled hand towel in the waste-bin. He noticed she stressed the word trust. “I’ll be there Sunday night, trust amor.”

There came a knock on the door which was followed by Matteo’s voice, “Are you finished?”

“All right babe I’ll call you later. Kiss my loves.”

“I will.” A simple, “I love you honey, be good,” from Selange killed any thoughts of a meaningless romp. Yeah, he could do what he wanted and she’d never know, but he wasn’t going to ask for loyalty and trust if he wasn’t willing to do the same thing.

His eyes twinkled at a private joke. With his luck he’ll screw a chica, break a condom and wind up on a show where paternity and lie detector tests confirmed he was unfaithful more than once. Oh the chairs will fly and his babe will smash the entire set like the She-Hulk. Ah, man he wiped his forehead with his palm. The thought made him sweat. Nah, he already experienced a soul crushing pain once, twice wasn’t happening. Their marital foundation had to be built on trust or one weak moment can bring an implosion. He disciplined his dick and told the shit to pipe down, ahora!

Alfonzo opened the door and Matteo rushed in unzipping in a hurry. “Is the game over?” Alfonzo asked in passing.

“Soon.” Matteo said right before Alfonzo exited. He didn’t bother shutting the door and the sound of urination was heard as Alfonzo returned to the gaming room below the smoke shop of Matteo’s deceased father. The senior Peglesi and Alberti shared a love of cigars. This is where they often met with others to play chess and cards. He could see the old gangsters sitting there in fedoras, suave men swapping stories of their misdeeds. Of course they’d never repeat the tales in public because then they’d get tried for their crimes.

“Hold…hold up Uncle!” Sergio said eyeing his hand, undecided whether to raise the stakes.

Nico puffed in leisure. A cold mass of cut marble from head to toe. An eye found Alfonzo and it twinkled. Between two fingers he removed the cigar, held it aloft and squinted when he talked, “Finished jerking off cugino?”

Giuseppe guffawed. “He misses fucking his donna. I can tell!”

Alfonzo opted for the soft leather loveseat nearby, tossed his leg over the armrest, grabbed his sack and shook hard. “Fuck you both!”

They kept popping mess and Alfonzo noticed Sergio hadn’t said a word. Shocking. From the looks of things, Sergio nearly cleaned them out. But Giuseppe refused to allow Sergio to walk away with his money, although he had plenty. The man upped the ante. “All or nothing cazzo!” he said and bet it all.

Sergio gave a curt nod. He was in the game. Nico’s eyes were lowered. He wasn’t there; his attention was on a text. He folded and stood. “Good game nipote. You get to stay with these cazzo’s tonight; I have to go, ciao!”

“The woman beckons you home, eh cugino?” Giuseppe snickered.

Nico didn’t answer the antagonist instead he slapped Alfonzo’s leg on his way out the door. “See you around, something important came up.”

“Do I need to know what?”

“No.”

“Alright, hasta luego!” Alfonzo responded not questioning further. Nico had multiple tasks. If something arose that required his attention, Nico would tell him. He usually did.

Trust. Such a small word, but such a powerful meaning.

Matteo returned and said good night, but before he exited Giuseppe started up again. “Tell Amelda to stop the trouble-making. I do not like how she gossips with Shanda!”

Matteo buttoned his suit jacket, adjusted his cuff links, ran a finger comb through his perfect hair and in playboy casual pursed his lips in a smile. “Any trouble in your home is of your doing. I do not have those problems with my bella, listen and learn.”

Sergio laughed. “In your face Giuseppe!”

“Siate ladro silenzioso!” Giuseppe barked at the interloper then slammed his palm on the table. “Play!”

Sergio presented a Royal Flush. “Sucker!”

Alfonzo smirked, so did Matteo before he walked out. Giuseppe required reminders he was not the best at everything. To Matteo’s delight, this had been proven. Unfortunately, Giuseppe was not an amicable loser. One hundred and eighty-seven grand in two hours of poker isn’t a bad haul for a young man. Yes, Sergio was very good at cards.

On Matteo’s way up the stairs he saw legs of women descending. “Buongiorno Matteo,” Alanda who led the group of scantily clad females greeted when they were at eye level.

“Buongiorno,” Matteo said respectfully as he continued to ascend. He shook his head. Giuseppe played dangerous games. He reached the ground floor and the guards came in view. There were seven not including the six in the rear of the establishment and four outdoors in cars. His lips pulled back in a fleshy curtain to reveal white teeth of an angry Don. Matteo chastised the Tenente. “Why did you allow the women entry?”

The Tenente answered, “Don Giuseppe informed me they were coming.”

“In the future remember when you stand in another man’s domain as his guest it is courtesy to inform him of further invitees, capisce?”

“Capisco.”

Matteo’s nostrils flared. He did not want to have such occurrences again. If Amelda were to discover whorish women frequented on game-night, his peaceful villa would become a battleground similar to that of his brother-in-law. No, he preferred tranquility with his family. That is what he had growing up. Why make an enemy of wives when they are more lethal in battle then husbands? Such wars men never win. Amelda Dichenzo Peglesi he loved best as a wife and a friend.

***

Alfonzo scowled the minute Alanda entered. She claimed a seat on Giuseppe’s lap as her companions boldly flanked Alfonzo and Sergio. “What is this fratello?” Alfonzo asked as he leaned forward when the women’s hands caressed his chest.

“I bring luck.” Giuseppe winked. “Besides you are my guest. Go play fratellino with micio.”

Alfonzo held the probing female hands at bay before they ventured into his trousers. “I’m married brother or maybe you forgot!”

A rumble of laughter is what Alfonzo received from Giuseppe. “Ah, fratellino. You think too much. Your wife is not here and your dick requires a kiss, no?”

The eyebrow arched. “I’m good hombre,” Alfonzo retorted, waving the women aside and ignored their petulant faces with eyes on his goodie-bag. “Don’t you think this is a pretty shitty way to treat your fiancée?”

“My Prima Donna is happy. I do nothing wrong.”

Sergio smiled broadly as a pair of ladies stroked him intimately. Giuseppe distracted the dude easy and made him forget about cards and money. Alfonzo on the other-hand found Giuseppe’s action an attempt to sabotage everything he rebuilt with Selange. “Cool, but I’m good. I’m going to nap and when you guys finish wake me up!”

When he reclined to get shut eye, Giuseppe went there, hitting low is what the motherfucker did. “She has softened you fratellino. When she fucked Nico do you think she thought about loyalty?”

Sergio’s smile died. What? Uncle Nico smashed Alfonzo’s wife, now ‘aint that a bitch!

Alfonzo bolt forward at the scathing remark. He let the words sink in the sand where he buried the past. He’d gotten over that mess, Giuseppe was aware he had. Why he went there is anybody’s guess, and frankly Alfonzo didn’t care. The fact he sought to strike him below the belt is what Alfonzo didn’t respect. His feet were in motion. If they were boys these fights would’ve happened many times because Giuseppe was an instigator. But they weren’t kids, supposedly. Giuseppe scrambled to his feet upon Alfonzo’s rapid approach, and hoist Alanda out of harm’s way. With a matador’s focus Giuseppe prepared for the raging bull’s attack.

Alfonzo’s fist hit with speed, and a smacking resounded. Giuseppe’s cheek only moved a fraction and he chortled. “Oh, is that it fratellino?”

He shouldn’t have spoken because Alfonzo jabbed with force and Giuseppe’s midsection caved in and he coughed. Now the motherfucker understands I’m not playing, Alfonzo thought during a bob and weave in response to Giuseppe’s swings. On an up motion with a solid stance he clocked his brother in the mouth which caused liquored spit to spew out.

“Sonovabitch!” Alfonzo growled. Giuseppe’s insult begged for an ass-beating and frankly, one was long overdue.

Before Giuseppe took a bullet to his big head he lacked impulse control. The man wasn’t diagnosed with Tourette’s; he was just a callous bastard in Alfonzo’s opinion that never received punishment as a kid.

Boys rough-housing in someone else’s place is the scene Sergio witnessed. The shock about Uncle Nico and Alfonzo’s wife hadn’t gone away yet. Yeah, Selange was fine and maybe if he could get away with it he’d hit it too. Nah, then again he wouldn’t because he’d get killed. Then his brows furrowed at something Uncle Nico said about a woman being a man’s downfall and he finally put it together. The reason his father died is because of Uncle Nico. He’d heard his dad sought to protect his twin brother and now he wondered just who the bullet was meant to strike and who pulled the trigger. “Did you shoot my old man Alfonzo?” Sergio asked as Giuseppe wrestled Alfonzo to the floor.

The wrestlers stopped, glared at him like he was stupid and in unison answered, “No…get out of here with that shit!”

“Then who did?”

“The man’s dead. I put a bullet in his head,” Alfonzo replied as he spun out of Giuseppe’s arm and leg clamps to stand but Giuseppe clutched his neck.

Alfonzo went for a head-butt which Giuseppe evaded and then he rammed Alfonzo in the stomach sending him colliding with the table. Alfonzo found himself sprawled on his back atop poker chips and money. Sliding with arms outstretched he steadied by bracing his feet on the edge and that’s when he experienced a shake. Then a wobble followed. A massive vibration rocked the solid gaming table, an antique from the eighteen hundreds that couldn’t withstand Alfonzo’s weight. Then he crashed in a thunderous clatter showered by chips and cash.

The noise brought men bursting through the door. Giuseppe ordered them to stay back as he waited for Alfonzo to climb to his feet.

Brothers stood as adversaries, ready for another round until Sergio intervened. He stepped in the middle of killing machines. Giuseppe’s bulk was massive muscle, Alfonzo’s physique somewhat leaner but impressive with cuts gained by regular work-outs and kicking ass. Sergio weighed the risky action, but put aside his apprehension out of necessity. The family history had too much bloodshed and brother against brother could only lead to further carnage. Hadn’t his father’s death and others taught these hot-heads anything? “Hold up…hold up…you’re brothers…chill…chill. Giuseppe that’s cold what you said. Ya’ll can’t be doing this shit, word. Once you start beating on each other it won’t be long before others get in the fight. Apologize Giuseppe before ya’ll kill each other, for real.”

Giuseppe grinned. “Cazzo makes sense fratellino. I do not want to kill you.”

“Pendejo!” Alfonzo growled. He marched forward shoving Sergio to the wall as if he weighed an ounce and the second part of the brawl ensued. The guards ushered the women out who were enjoying the fight between stallions. Brawn and agility were a handsome sight to women that liked machismo. Reluctantly, Alanda scurried out, looking back and calling to Giuseppe, “Ciao Geo, call me soon!”

“Ciao bella I will!” Giuseppe shouted at the woman who addressed him informally because they were intimately familiar. Alanda gave the best head and his sensitive brother’s tirade is responsible for sending her home far earlier than he wanted. That seemed reason enough to fight.

Sergio stayed out of harm’s way with his arms crossed. The crazies bounced off the walls, crashing into the sparse furniture and breaking whatever they contacted. They were really trashing Matteo’s place. He shook his head because he tried. They were drunk and tomorrow they’d feel the after-effects of idiocy. He grimaced when Alfonzo socked Giuseppe in the mouth –again. But, Giuseppe wasn’t going down; the wrestler-boxer put Alfonzo in a head-lock that looked painful. They vented their frustrations with knuckles after Alfonzo broke the hold. Ripped sleeves, popped buttons, they looked a mess. Liquor, temper and testosterone is an explosive cocktail, add in sexual frustration, bruised egos, a bully as an older brother and you have Alfonzo and Giuseppe.

Alfonzo shoved Giuseppe against the wall. He’d made his point. Giuseppe got it; never bring up that incident again. “That was a low-blow cabrón and there better not be a repeat!”

Giuseppe wiped spittle from his mouth. The fight had pumped his blood, an adrenalin rush equal to sex, a fitting substitute since Alfonzo decided to cock-block. His hot-headed fratellino needed to relax. Sometimes Alfonzo was uptight. Perhaps the liquor brought out Giuseppe’s beast or was it Sergio who had taken his money? He sneered, no; Alfonzo mentioned something he did not want to hear. However, he enjoyed the fight. With their father’s gene, they were neither monogamous nor good. They were Dons and fidelity was alien to their blood. When Alfonzo spoke of Shanda he experienced a tinge of guilt. He really did not want to disappoint his bella, but when a man is accustomed to freedom and doing as he pleases, reformation is difficult. Seeing Alfonzo’s injury, not of flesh but to the heart is why he frowned and apologized. “Sí, that was not nice. You are crazy about your bella, perdóname fratellino,” Giuseppe said and grabbed Alfonzo in a bear hug to kiss each cheek and then shoved him roughly away.

The cut happened. Recanting now didn’t close the wound. Yeah, what Giuseppe said was the truth, but also the ugly goddamn past and the fact Giuseppe smeared his face in the crap after he’d reconciled the pain is an egregious injury to a brother who loved an irascible jack-ass.