Avarice (6 page)

In a frenzy to satiate his need he elevated her ass off the bed and rocked the mattress with their bodies ignoring the fingers digging into his skin. Selange moaned louder which heightened his sexual aggression. Her buttocks were lowered, sandwiched between artificial
material and hard flesh. He pressed her there as he filled her body to the core.

Alfonzo’s powerful frame held her immobile, leaving only her arms and legs unrestrained. She had no egress, no strength to match a hungry sex crazed man. Prickly hairs scratched her skin as
his lips traveled down her neck to her breasts. He suckled as if starving, bringing her pleasurable pain. Long oh’s and ah’s were the sounds in the darkened room when he hoist her legs higher, bending his torso in a half-moon while massaging her internally in a circular motion. Her head thrashed, she bit her lip when she noticed the door remained slightly open in an effort to stay quiet. A prisoner of ecstasy is how she felt. The thin line of light shining from the hall parted the floor on side of the bed. She prayed none of the kids awakened to see daddy humping mommy because she’d have difficulty explaining. Then Alfonzo exhibited he was far more formidable than a Greek myth when he twisted her body sideways without detaching; corkscrew rotations from his dick sent lightning bolts through nerve endings. He hit that G-spot sending Selange’s arm overhead and fingers coiling around the edge of her comfy pillow. The pleasurable cry which emanated from her soul could have awakened Hades during her intense orgasmic rain.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Domingo wiped transmission fluid from his hands, tossed the soiled cloth to the work bench and yelled to the employee on the far side of the garage to pipe the noise down. The steel doors were rolled up; the mechanics that were hard at work required the cool air to keep their asses awake. But, then there’s always the goof-off trying to distract people from their jobs; the one blaring rap music, walking around instead of detailing
being unproductive and costing him money. Sometimes you had to shut shit down and remind staff whose boss, even hand out pink slips, which for Domingo’s business was a verbal, “You’re fired, here’s your week’s pay, now go you useless shit!”

He spotted a trio of luxury SUV’s. The chrome and shiny black metal with the Porsche insignia was sexy on wheels. It had to be his rich cousin. Every time Alfonzo rolled in he arrived with an entourage in fly ass whips. Men piled out from the tinted vehicles; their mean faces weren’t Secret Service, they were paid to die and not to snitch. These were stocky men, muscles that were put to use often, brawler types
who even without guns can kill with their bare hands.

Alfonzo’s guys checked around before their boss put his foot on the ground and Domingo figured it must be cool to have clout. He sort of missed the old days when they were a duo and owned el calle. But, winds shift and people drift on destiny. Alfonzo was only in his thirties and the dude practically owned el mundo.  Occasionally they hung out, however Alfonzo was either jet-setting here and there, whatever time they spent
together seemed to be in the company of his inherited family and guards. Domingo didn’t mind at first, but after a while he began to resent their presence. He liked the old Alfonzo; the Nuyorican proud of his heritage over the sharply suited dude strolling forward who had assimilated with the Italians.

“Que tal primo?” Alfonzo smiled and they did a bro hug greeting followed by fist on fist.

“Same shit, what’s up with you primo?”

Alfonzo displayed a lopsided grin. Love’s sincerity for his cousin unconcealed in the sparkle of blue irises. “Bobbing and weaving suited thugs.”

Domingo observed there’d been a change in guards. There was Tony who he acknowledged with a nod but the other guys he didn’t recognize. “New crew?”

Alfonzo gave a perfunctory response, “Sí.”

“You looking good, how’s the familia?”

“Asi-asi. You know.”

“Sure do.”

“Hey I thought you said you were expanding, what happened with that?”
Alfonzo asked and then put his hands in his pockets to survey the place for new construction. He observed mechanics stealing glances in his direction. Alfonzo was accustomed to the curious on-lookers who wanted a glimpse of the man the media referred to as The Concrete Don. They didn’t outright mention organized crime, however innuendo existed by the usage of the word ‘
Don
.’ He’d made loads of legal money on other ventures besides construction without mafia connections, but he supposed media outlets felt the nickname was catchy and it was.

Alfonzo widened his stance; there was something comforting in standing on his old stomping ground. Every time he stopped by and saw activity in Uncle Al’s former shop he beamed proudly
because Uncle Al’s memory remained alive.

Originally the place housed only a tire repair shop
but then Uncle Al renovated after deciding there were bigger bucks in automotive detailing. Back in the day dudes came in and tried to sell stolen high end automotive parts, but Uncle Al wasn’t having that shit and he’d toss them out. 

Domingo gestured. “Let’s talk in the office,” he said and walked in the waiting
area where a receptionist, slash clerical worker sat texting without a care.

From her unprofessional clothes she must be from around the way. Probably somebody Domingo knew. Cronyism is how many got jobs, but maybe Domingo should’ve gone over the dress code because as cold as it was outside the woman wore practically nothing. Sexual harassment lawsuits are big nowadays, but nobody
discusses there are some women wearing what men see as tramp gear. Expose too much skin and men are going to try to cop a feel or make sexual remarks. Their goddamn men!

The Latina’s hefty cleavage jiggled when she sat upright and put down her cell as the trio neared. Bold eyes traveled from Alfonzo to Tony bringing up the rear. To a woman who wasn’t accustomed to men wearing suits and shoes, the well-dressed
were prey. They were caviar in clothes, which was very rare in the ‘hood. Drug-dealers or rappers were the stars on the street, but she zeroed in on Alfonzo when Domingo stopped at the desk to look over messages.

She smiled. Something about the guy w
ith blue eyes screamed, boss man and good lay. She leaned over the scratched desk. Peep these tits, was what she wanted and his eyes went there. The dark brow going up was as sexy as the curve of his kissable mouth. “Hola,” she said.

“What’s up?” Alfonzo replied.

“Bien, you looking good papi.”

Tony’s eyes squinted. Women regularly tossed themselves at Alfonzo. Tony hoped the shameless exhibitionist didn’t step over the line. When women did, Alfonzo’s comebacks weren’t pretty. 

“Gracias chica y tu, tambien.”

Domingo waved a finger at Alfonzo. “This is my cousin Alfonzo, Linda. He’s married.”

“I don’t see a wife, where is she, home watching novellas?”

“I’ll bring her around one day,” Alfonzo answered, not taking her seriously.

“If she’s as sexy as you guapo, I’m down for a threesome.”

“Nah mami,
trés
is a crowd.”

“Um-hum, she can watch.”

“It’ll be the other way around if that ever happened.” Alfonzo scoffed. “She isn’t a voyeur and doesn’t share, but neither do I.”

“You’d change your tune after you sampled my food.”

Domingo found the entire conversation funny. He signed a work order and slid it across the desk to Linda and then headed toward his office. He stopped with his hand on the handle wondering who’d score at the conclusion of the tete-a-tete. Tony on the other-hand gave a subtle frown at the woman’s disrespectful remarks. Of course Alfonzo had wit and quipped, “Lo siento mami but I don’t sample everybody’s cooking; there’s a lot of food poisoning going around.”

Linda shrugged and Alfonzo kept it moving. The bold chica’s always went there and he closed the door the second any thought their twat would lead him astray like a dog. Linda’s actually typical of the brash women slipping their digits to his bodyguards. The vicious women cut eyes at his wife like she’d done them harm, when in fact they were thirsty, groupies or wannabe side-chicks going hard for a married dude although he politely declined.

What irked him were the scathing remarks whispered about his
wife
. Selange wasn’t a jump-off, backstreet stripper or money grubbing trick. The woman was a good mom, intelligent and operated a business, only a jealous, insecure chica would take issue with Selange, simply because she possessed qualities they lacked. Yeah, haters were everywhere that’s why they do shit behind a person’s back.

Alfonzo didn’t believe in the old adage, nice girls finish last. To hell with the nonsense, a genuinely sweet chica in his book is preferable to a sour and spiteful one any day. Trash talkers only
brought drama to a relationship and he craved serenity. Instead of fighting over petty things on the regular, he preferred to make hard love to his woman and celebrate living another day!

Nah, he wasn’t on the market for piranhas with vaginas. He’d gone through too much with Selange to trade realness for delusions. Only unseasoned fishermen plunge their rods in stagnant waters and appear shocked when rotted fish emerge. To hell with that mess, let shallow motherfuckers swim in cesspools; he didn’t want the stench!

Tony’s mouth was tight when he glanced down at the crass woman as he passed. She winked and Tony’s lip curled in disgust. Don’t even try me, was his thought, your ass don’t have nothing on my Tiffany!

“Sorry primo.” Domingo chuckled as he took a seat behind a messy desk, eyeing Tony who decided to shut the door and take up post.

“De nada.” Alfonzo dismissed that crap. “I’m pissed at you D; why the fuck didn’t you tell me you’re making moves again?”

Domingo shrugged. “The hustler blood doesn't leave.”

“Still, why do I hear this from Jessica and not you?” Alfonzo asked. He took a seat and swiveled around to ask Tony to give them a minute. The bodyguard departed and Alfonzo went in on his cousin. “You got a beef with me primo?”

“You tell me bro; you haven’t treated me like family in years.”

Alfonzo rubbed his chin, stroking the new growth which filled out his goatee. “I’m family to the end, but that crap out your mouth sounded like a doubtful
friend
!”

“What am I supposed to think, huh?” Domingo inhaled. “You haven’t been around the ‘hood ‘cause you’re caught up in all that mafia shit with your
brother
. I guess the Diaz’ are too common for those wealthy Italians. Motherfuckers when they make it get amnesia about where the hell they come from and you’re not any different.”

Alfonzo’s eyes narrowed. If Domingo were anybody else he’d clock his ass. “That’s how you feel?”

“Fucking A!”

“Then you don’t know me Domingo and I’m beginning to think you’re on some shit. Nobody has to remind me where the fuck I come from. I have the wounds tattooed on my skin.”

“Yeah, well you aint around anymore to get harassed my cops or witness our hombres get busted or shot by police. Aint shit changed except the day, but I’m still here primo while you’re hanging out with Italians.”

Alfonzo begged to differ. A lot had changed. The residency requirement for law enforcement is one. The other mess Domingo was popping sounded like he wanted a problem solver for matters of the head. “Have you voted or got active in the community instead of complaining?”

“Nah, what for. We’ve been dealing with an extermination from inside and out, aint shit I do gonna’ change a thing!”

“That self-defeatist rhetoric is the infestation effecting too many in our ‘hood.”

“At least I’m still here, primo.”

“You wouldn’t be satisfied until I caught a bullet in the damn head, because staying in the ‘hood to prove something to you would only have me dead!”

“But before you were some big Don you were Alfonzo and survived fine without the guards and whatnot.”

Alfonzo didn’t bother to correct Domingo’s asinine statement. The dumb prick didn’t know Nico was the reason his ass wasn’t lying in the morgue back in the day. Alfonzo pressed his spine to the chair. “You know what… fuck it. Are you seriously going backwards at this juncture?”

“That’s not how I see what I’m doing.”

Alfonzo flexed forward. “I’m advising you to stay legit.”

“That would matter if I asked for your opinion.”

Alfonzo tilt his head to the side when he detected the change from cordial to adversarial. He didn’t like it. “You don’t need to take that route. You need money primo, name the amount and I got you.”

“I don’t need a hand-out; I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”

Alfonzo recognized the futility of trying to talk sense into Domingo. He suspected he’d graduated from weed to a stronger substance. For the sake of his family he tried to reason with the asshole. It’s hard when you love somebody to stand by and do nothing when they’re heading straight for destruction. “Are you in trouble; is anybody on your back?”