ATONEMENT (27 page)

Many agreed, “Yes…this one, that one, yet we accept it because we have secrets of our own.”

These revelations were shocking and Selange had to ask, “But aren’t you afraid they’ll find out.”

Sophie interjected, “Discretion is a woman’s closest friend.”

“The girdle she wears to give her silhouette curves.”

More laughter.

“When my husband goes for days, where is he?” One of the women
queried
.

“In the home of
a cheap woman in Naples
,
”
voiced another
.

“There are some things we pretend not to know for the sake of peace. If he is a good husband he will not flaunt his affairs in public.”

Amelda
added, “If he is a perfect husband, he will see only you.”

“
But what is perfection
? None here are. We are people and oh people have many flaws!”

On this Selange remained silent. These women were opinionated and vocal.
The
ir
conversation
continued, revealing more about them.
For example, Marcella ran a cosmetic business
and talked about her expansion to other markets.
Amelda
was an up and coming
clothing
designer
who was invited to Fashion Week in New York next year.
Renalda
was a news reporter
and ironically covered organized crime.
Go figure?
Lucia, she didn’t care to know. She learned
Crystalia
was also a teacher
. These were
definitely
not the stereotypical stay at home
mob
wives
.

            
                     
***

Nico could hear the women’s boisterous
conversation
through the partition.
No wonder t
he elder
ly
ladies
stayed behind.
They probably wanted quiet
, leaving poor Sophie to serve as the singular chaperone.

Nico slid closer to the passenger door, needing an inch more of space from the
oversized
bodyguard
who
’d
fallen asleep between him and Crane.

Crane opted to drive which was perfectly fine with Nico, it allowed him to thoroughly scan the streets and focus his attention on his job
, which was to provide security as they
approach
ed the
Galleria
. He
saw the
men standing out in the vacant parking spaces with their fanny packs, hustling the tourists. Not valets, but the dreaded car parkers, known as the
posteggiatori
.
The lowest form of blight in Italy
,
once
the scourge of Palermo who Carlo
Dichenzo
eradicated by issuing threats to the families who allowed it to fester.
Nico was a proud Sicilian, his
o
l
i
ve skin and dark features indicative of his southern roots and indelible ties to Calabria. Here, in the northern city of Milan,
this
riff-raff flourished because Giuseppe failed to squash it, finding nothing wrong in these hustlers bringing money to his northern associates. Unlike, his father
who firmly disagreed with the pr
actice of charging fees to park. I
t hurt tourism, affected Italy’s economy and caused unnecessary trou
bles for the families. Giuseppe
learned much from his father but failed to inherit his wisdom. S
haking down legitimate businesses for protection money, commonly known as
‘
the
pizzo
’
had become a
thorn for Carlo and he parted with the practice as a sign of good-faith, hence the Italian
authority’s
deference to the old man.

Carlo’s fortune’s derived from
illegal
gambling, money laundering and accepting
busterella
or bribes to gain access to corrupt
bureaucrats,
not penny ante crimes that tarnished Italy’s proud heritage
.

Nico was out the vehicle, walking toward the man with the cap. As he neared the man, his
other cohorts
stroll
ed
over
when they saw the well-dressed six f
oot statute
approaching
.
They should have
suspected
by the
dangerous
glint in his eye and the scowl curtained by
the
beard he was not a tourist but an inhabitant. In their greed this went unnoticed.

“You have to pay if you wish to park here.” The one in the cap announced
in Italian
.

“How much?”
Nico asked
,
giving the man a chance to re
s
c
ind
his demand
.

“
Depends on how long
you
will stay.”

The
unscrupulous
postegg
iatori
were grinning behind their friend, not understanding they had come in contact with
one of th
e
Serano
brothers and the son of
an
infamous butcher of men
responsible for the contract killings of
scores
of
so-called deadl
y
enforcers
and others
.

“There’s a charge for the length of time, too?”

“Of course
,”
o
ne chuckled.

Nico removed a pen from
the
pocket
of his cashmere coat, seized
the hand of the man in the cap, pierced his palm with it and
squeezed down.
The laughing s
topped. Sweat trickled from beneath
the
man’s
cap and glistened
across his
large
forehead
.

Nico held
tightly,
not letting him escape
.
A
sinister grin snak
ed
along the edge of Nico’s lips
undetected by onlookers
. T
hese were
friends
exchanging a
cordial
handshake
.

“There
’s
no fee for the
Dichenzo
’s
.
Let Don
Telini
know this, show
him
the payment you received for
your
insult,
capisci
?”

The sweat rolled down the bridge of
the cap wearer’s
nose as the pain began to spark along
his
nerves. He
hopped from foot to
foot nodding,
“
Capisco
…
capisc
o
.”

The other
men
inch
ed
away
once they heard the
Dichenzo
name. Everyone in Italy knew of the
Dichenzo’
s
. They were
one of the richest
families
in Europe and the most feared.

“
You two have the pleasure of making sure
my
limo
isn’t vandalized while I’m gone, got it?
”
Nico said pointing to the pair moving away.

They nodded.

Nico smirked, held up the dancing man’s hand and jerked the two hundred dollar pen out
. He
brashly
wiped
the blood
on the man’s fanny pack
, stared
him in the eye
and dared
him to speak or move. The man simpered l
ike a child, intimidated and in pain. Certain his point was made Nico
returned to the limo.

C
rane shook his head, “Nico, you are
scar
y
.”

The look in Nico’s eyes told him to shut-up and park
.

                           
CHAPTER
TEN

“Dad,
can I come?” Sal asked his father.

Alfonzo lifted his chin, undid the silk tie and started again. He wanted it perfect, close to perfect anyway. Selange was so much better at these things. He cocked a brow in the mirror to see the boy’s petulant face. Allie was jumping on the bed, a miniature of Selange with all that hair.