Armored (9 page)

“Do you need anything Teresa?”

“I just wish I had someone I could confide in. There’s something I need to get off my chest. Too bad you’re out there because it’ll be nice if we could talk.”

Amelda was texting again.

Selange sighed. “There’s nobody Teresa?”

“Girl, no. People gossip too much and even my friends are questionable.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Can you visit soon; maybe we can have a drink or something?”

Amelda’s fashion show was important but Teresa was, too. Selange frowned. Maybe she could fly to New York after the event. They could talk over dinner tomorrow and then she’d high tail it back to Italy before Alfonzo caught wind of her transgression. The school was closed on Monday for some vague teacher’s conference.  Maria wouldn’t mind her missing the outing for a good cause, after-all she’d practically thrust her in this role as family counselor.

Ugh, despite everything Teresa hadn’t meant to hurt anyone. Selange empathized because she’d been there and the result was devastating as well. Guilt can suffocate a person. Regardless of Teresa’s terrible decision, that action shouldn’t cancel out every good deed Teresa’s done. Selange believed in forgiveness. Besides, when Teresa was asked to help rescue Darren, she was there without hesitation. Before that she provided comfort during Freddie’s murderous rampage when Alfonzo had to leave the house. Teresa required a friend, and if anyone should understand, it would be Selange.

Selange inhaled deeply. “I’ll be there tomorrow and we’ll talk, okay?”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you soon.”

“Alright see you tomorrow.”

“Bye.”

After the call, Selange contacted Maria. “I’m going to check on Teresa when I leave the show. I’ll
be back no later than Monday.”

***

The biggest names in the fashion industry were visible in Milan for the spring-summer couture presentation; Valli, Brondolini, YSL, Lagerfield, Bedin, Gucci, House of Worth and hundreds of others, were represented on this day, Amelda’s House of Fashion among them.

The models on the cat
walk turned and strut with professional flair. They carried handbags of crocodile that accented the flowing garments that Amelda gained popularity for. Her collection this year included more earth tones, inspired by Africa, which she told Selange during the fittings back stage was to celebrate their ancestry. She showcased just eight pieces inspired by a beautiful picture Allie had taken of the drummers and the dancers twirling during their visit. Selange tried to forget the bad things that happened and recalled the celebratory welcome which had been magnificent.

“A percentage of the proceeds will go the orphanage there. Allie says more money is needed and I agree,” Amelda commented as she tugged on a model’s pleat. The pleated layers highlighted the
body’s contours; and a tight palette of colors worked well on brown skin.

Amelda had watched as each model stepped out, also observing the expressions of the guests seated and taking notes.

Selange was excited, Amelda’s diligence paid off, well talent sure did help. Her fabrics were soft, feminine and aesthetically pleasing.

“Congratulations Amelda, you really are fantastic.”

“Grazie Selange. Grazie.” Amelda beamed.

In the reception that followed an excited jewelry designer squeezed through the crowd to congratulate Amelda on her success. The Asian eyes were feline which he squinted more
than necessary. “Fantastic, I adored the choice of fabrics. The onyx and diamond bracelet I designed for your husband would have been perfect with the evening gown.”

Amelda thanked him. “Grazie, por favore refresh my memory. I receive so many wonderful gifts from my husband, when was this item made?”

The man slid a hand across the side of his moussed hair. “It was seasons ago. You were pregnant Amelda love. I designed it especially for you. There are tiny hearts if you examine it closely near the clasp.”

Others interrupted. Smiles and champagne glasses hid the confusion on Amelda’s face. She did not recall the gift, but certainly she would later.

The after party celebration was in full effect when Selange whispered an inquiry about Amelda’s jet which she asked to use earlier in the evening. Amelda had nearly forgotten and checked her messages. Sí, the pilot had messaged the plane was fueled and prepped for New York.

“Grazie for coming sorella,” she said to Selange and placed kisses on her rouged cheeks.

“Thank you for inviting me and congratulations on both counts.” Selange smiled. “I cannot wait to meet the new addition to our family.”

Amelda had confided in Selange her happy secret. She would tell Matteo on his birthday in three days. Unlike, the others, Selange was able to keep a confidence. “Grazie…I am so happy sorella. I am in a dream.”

“You are radiant.”

“Sí,” Amelda agreed holding her crystal glass out to the side as she rubbed her flat stomach that had yet to display evidence of her condition.

“Water, no wine.” Selange wagged a finger. “And whatever you do, keep smiling, don’t allow anyone to steal your joy. Love you.”

They exchanged hugs, then happiness
drifted away when Selange waved farewell and floated through the crowd in Amelda’s design, classy as usual.

The empty flute which had sparkly water was placed on a waiter’s tray. Maybe, she should tell Selange to consider traveling to New York another day, she thought. Amelda did not have good feelings about Selange going there. Before she went after Selange she was intercepted by a fashion icon. The senior designer wore his signature black T-Shirt and jeans with a gem studded belt with a matching leather wristband.

“Your collection was inspirational Signora Peglesi,” he said.

“Grazie, I hear you have wowed the fashion world once again with your women’s wear.” Amelda spotted Selange exiting with her guards. She sighed, perhaps the foreboding she experienced centered on her marriage. The wonderful union she believed may not have been what she imagined.

The designer continued talking. His words were monotone mutterings in the crowd of chatterboxes and music. Amelda plastered on her dazzling smile, although her thoughts were murderous. Her attention should have been on this glorious achievement and recognition by her counterparts, instead she mused over a bracelet.

Onyx and diamonds, a specialty order commissioned by Matteo, undoubtedly presented to another had consumed her joyous night.

Why couldn’t she recall Matteo giving her such a gift but could remember a piece of jewelry matching the description adorning Geovonna’s treacherous arm?

C
hapter Ten

Thousands of miles in the air, Alfonzo dined on seafood from Pickard china and a poor replication of his mother’s mofongo. There was too much garlic in the plantains and Alfonzo’s stomach clenched. The Capo had brought along his son, a twenty-two year old who wanted to follow in his dad’s footsteps. Alfonzo’s Capo was Puerto Rican bred who relocated his family to Sicily. He had a son, Lorenzo and two daughters. The guy was affable, and unlike Lou he didn’t have ties to any of the mafia families. Alfonzo passed on Giuseppe and Matteo’s guys, who were related in some way or another to heads of families which Alfonzo deemed a conflict of interest. After Lou, he really didn’t trust anybody. He remained distant with the guys and observant.

Right now he witness
ed the father and son’s interaction. Lorenzo spun his Yankee fitted cap around with the brim to the back. He was told by his father to take off the damn hat. Alfonzo thought about his kids, hoping none of them wanted to follow in his footsteps, the illegal stuff anyway.

The Capo was speaking to his son in Spanish, telling him to be cool at the party because they were going on business, not fun and games.

Lorenzo nodded, shoveling food in his mouth without complaint about the taste. Alfonzo put a fist to his mouth to cover a belch. Ever since Anita returned he’d skipped the restaurants, opting for home cooked meals. Whatever was in the food he ate had given him horrible gas.

“Kids, the only reason Lorenzo wanted to tag along is for the party and girls,” the Capo said good-naturedly. “Thanks for letting me bring him Don Alfonzo.”

“And to learn the job pop,” the son replied looking nervously at the Boss sitting quietly with a snarl on his face.

Alfonzo put the young man at ease. “Just remain respectful, hands off the chicas and stay alert.”

“You think the car will be there?” The Capo asked regarding the present Alfonzo had ordered for the birthday boy.

“The vehicle is waiting at a nearby garage. I’ll le
t Lorenzo do the honors and drive it round front as a surprise.”

“Alright...thanks!” Lorenzo gushed.

“Who has a birthday party on a Sunday anyway?” One of the guards asked.

Alfonzo’s lips curled in a side grin. “Man, where have you been?”

“Hell yeah, right?” Lorenzo joined the conversation. He liked his dad’s boss. The man was down to earth. “People party every day of the week; islander’s celebrate life man.”

“But he’s not an islander smarty pants.” The seasoned guard said.

“Well the dude’s birthday falls on a Sunday, so I guess that’s reason, isn’t it?” Lorenzo replied.

“Nothing’s sacred anymore. Damn stores open on Thanksgiving which is supposed to be family time.” The guard tsked and then returned to his food.

Alfonzo listened without input. His irritable stomach had taken center stage.

The guys continued eating, slopping beers and talking shit as Alfonzo’s abdomen made a deep rumbling noise. He excused himself to use the john.

His mama’s mofongo never had a sickening side effect. He closed his eyes, begging for relief to come and the shit came quick. “Oh man what the hell was in there?” 

Afterward, he took a shower, glad to have the luxurious amenities
only money afforded. The stuff had been an unimaginable pleasure as a youth. A private cabin with an in-flight full-size pullout bed, high-tech docking stations, plasma TV, Wi-Fi, fax machines and international phones were for those rich people in magazines.

He climbed in the bed after chucking deuces to the fellas and pulled the cashmere throw over his legs and then reached for the phone to call home. The time difference of three hours made it
around eight at night in Italy. The children were likely readying for bed at their Nana’s, except Sal who probably sat in front of a video game with the twins.

His wife answered. “Hi honey, how are you doing?”

“I’m good. How was the show?”

“Amelda did her thing. It was great…it really was.”

“And the children, did they give you any trouble after I left?”

“No, not really. I hope Allie doesn’t give Nana problems though, she’s constantly testing everybody’s patience.”

Selange’s voice was strained. Alfonzo noticed the difference in modulation. “Did Allie or any of our children act out babe?” he asked.

There was a hesitation before she replied, “We’ll talk when you get home.”

“Nope, talk now.”

An exasperated mother exhaled frustration. “Allie said something horrible to Giuseppe this morning.”

Alfonzo sighed. “What did she say nena?”

Selange gave the shortened version of what transpired, and then concluded with Allie’s lame apology. “She said sorry but
honey, Giuseppe still wanted to spank her because she was insincere. Allie wasn’t close with Shanda, I don’t know why, but I do know Allie loves her Uncle. I swear honey you should have seen how mad your brother was, but I wasn’t letting him put a hand on my daughter. My dad never spanked me. I’m sure he wanted to whack my ass many times but he said when somebody’s angry, if they use corporal punishment to discipline a child they might hit too hard and cause irreparable damage.”

Alfonzo frowned. His eyes closed wearily. They opened quickly when he realized he had dozed off and agreed to whatever his wife had said. “Nah…yeah.”

“…no games or TV for a week and she has to write an apology letter to her Uncle.”

“Bueno mami.”

“When my dad took away privileges, I straightened my ass up quick fast. Then he’d take me somewhere special and we’d talk about what happened. He’d say, ‘when you have kids of your own, you’ll understand the importance of this lesson.’ Ugh, but I was an only child, shit honey we’re teaching lessons every day because the kids are on rotation.”

In conversations like these Alfonzo gained further insight in to his wife. There’s always the belief that a partner knows everything about a mate, that’s bull shit. Nobody can inhabit someone else’s mind or body, so that mess is stupid. Anyway, he received regular ass whippings as a kid. Child rearing skills might depend on the culture. He turned out alright and so would Allie. Selange was worried, that’s what he deciphered and he let her know they were a parenting team.