deepundergroundpoetry.com
Wounded In The Deadly Aftermath
SAND POINT
Long Island, New York
The chauffer pulled the limousine around the circular driveway. He parked the vehicle, withdrew the key from out the ignition, and then unsnapped his seatbelt. He pushed his door open and stepped out. He pushed the door close
Mr. Delaro and three other men were already assisting Tango and Domenico out the limousine.
Two men placed Tango’s arm around their shoulder.
Mr. Delaro and another man, placed Domenico’s arm around their shoulder.
“Hang in there Domenico and stay with me.”
“Fuck!” Domenico scowled in pain. “Mr. Delaro…that nigger…is…is…fucking crazy, Mr. Dela…Zaniyah…Russians, crate, save her,” Domenico rushed out in a state of mental frenzy. He looked around; he was dizzy, disoriented, sweating profusely, and losing a lot of blood from his open wounds.
Mr. Delaro looked down at the blood saturation at Domenico’s thigh, and then up at both of his dangling bleeding hands.
Domenico’s body went limp, his head slumped forward.
“Come on man hang in there. The doctors are waiting on you two.”
Mr. Delaro rushed to his door. He looked back.
Tango’s head was hung forward. Mr. Delaro assumed he was unconscious.
Two men carried Tango to the front door. The tip of Tango’s toes dragged on the paved concrete.
“Hurry up dammit!” Mr. Delaro hollered to his staff.
The chauffeur took his hat off and wiped away the accumulated sweat to his forehead. He has never heard grown men, wallow in pain, as he has heard mile after mile.
Domenico and Tango was assisted through the door of sterile spacious bedroom setting.
A private team of doctors, three surgeons, and four nurses donned in surgical scrubs, protective covering on their shoes, and face plastic shields, awaited their presence.
A surgeon wheeled a gurney over to Mr. Delaro and the other man holding up Domenico’s limp body.
Domenico was lifted and placed on a gurney and rushed across a makeshift operating room. Two nurses and the two doctors lifted Domenico’s body and transferred him to an operating table. His pants were immediately cut off him and peeled away. His jacket and shirt sleeve were cut and then ribbed open.
The nurse thumped for a vein.
An IV was inserted inside the back of his hand, wrapped, and the transport fluid tubing, was taped down.
A potassium chloride drip was started.
Tango heard voices in and out of conscious. He felt something being inserted at the back of his hand.
Several people were talking over him, blurred visons of faces looked down on him before someone placed a mask over his nose and mouth. He succumbed to the darkness.
Mr. Delaro looked on as two of his best men were operated on. He quietly slipped out the bedroom.
Mr. Delaro huffed back to his study and entered. He slammed the door close. He walked around his desk and took a seat. He lifted the telephone receiver and dialed several numbers. He placed the receiver up to his ear.
LITTLE ITALY
Lower Manhattan, New York
Mulberry Street
“I need everyone here by nightfall, and that favor.” Mr. Delaro leveled the receiver to his chin. He thought for a moment. His father wanted him to get the last title deed to Mr. Ramo’s property, which is preventing their final phase of building a casino in Manhattan and the borough of Brooklynn.
Mr. Delaro placed the receiver back up to his ear.
“I will call you tomorrow.”
“Word, on the street. Your best two men were shot up by a Negro.”
“Yes, a potential problem I have to wait on dealing with.”
“All you have to do is give us the word to take him out.”
“Soon very soon.”
Mr. Delaro slammed the receiver back in the cradle.
Now that his two best men are fighting for their lives. He needs someone to step in a get that last title deed from Mr. Ramo.
“Fuck, I’m almost there, shit.”
He just may have to go and pay Mr. Ramo a visit himself.
“Miss. Jikonos,” Mr. Delaro hollered out.
Miss. Jikonos rubbed her hands on the front of her apron and walked out the kitchen. Her feet took her in the direction of Mr. Delaro’s study.
Miss. Jikonos knocked on the door.
“Come in.”
Miss. Jikonos reached down for the doorknob, twisted it, and then opened the door. She stepped inside Mr. Delaro’s study.
“Yes sir.”
“I need you to advise the chauffeur to have the limousine cleaned and detailed and then have my Rolls Royce ready to ride out in an hour.”
Miss. Jikonos bowed.
“Yes sir.”
THE GRAND MILLENNIUM CONDOMINIUMS
Manhattan, New York
Upper West Side
Later That Afternoon
Zaniyah paced her condominium. Any minute, she knew Tango or Domenico would come and whisk her away to her father’s estate.
Her telephone rang. She looked over at the telephone stand.
“Shit.”
Zaniyah walked over to the telephone stand, and lifted the receiver from out the cradle. She placed it up to her ear.
“Hello.”
ONE BEACON COURT
Manhattan, New York
“Girl where have you been? And why did you leave your girls hanging last night.”
“I’m sorry, something came up, and I left my Blackberry at my art gallery to contact anyone.”
“Well I have us seated at the Jazz Expo at the Blue Note Jazz Club this evening, and no excuses.”
“Why do you make it seem as if you’re not going to be lying in my bed in the future; more so, like later on, after I take my beautiful woman out to dinner, and no more excuses beautiful woman?”
Zaniyah smiled; Marcus told her the exact same thing this morning.
God she missed his arrogance, his presence, and him in general.
“Zaniyah are you there.”
“I’m sorry, yes, and I could really use a night out. You two can meet me in front of the Jazz Club.”
“Listen, if you cannot make it, please call.”
“I will Rosalina, and I’m sorry about last evening.”
“I hope he was well worth it under the covers.”
That and so much more she wanted to say.
“I will see you this evening.”
Zaniyah replaced the receiver back in the cradle.
QUINTESSENTIAL TRIBECA LOFT
New York, New York
Later That Afternoon
Marcus closed the door after two of his Navy Seal friends, and a discreet crime scene cleanup crew assisted him with the cleanup of his loft, his hallway, the freight elevator, and his entry hallway. He walked over to his couch. He looked down at the carpet. Not a blood stain remained behind. He glanced around.
The sanitizer odor was strong in the air, yet very effective for the job for which it completed.
Tomorrow he will have the entire carpet replaced and the bill, as he thought earlier, will be sent to Mr. Delaro.
“And to think, I was fucking that bastard’s daughter. Well it’s about time I hit some skin and not the daughter of a mobster.”
Marcus walked over to his stairwell, and walked up the steps.
In a crises such as this; he knew just the female who could arise to the call of pleasure. Marcus smiled as he continued to walk up the steps.
SAND POINT
Long Island, New York
There was a knock at the door. Mr. Delaro set his ink pen down on his desk and looked over at the door
“Come in.”
Miss. Jikonos opened the door to Mr. Delaro’s study. She peeped her head inside.
“Mr. Delaro, Carlito, has advised me the limousine has been cleaned and detailed and is now accessible, and your Rolls Royce has been pulled out front. Oh, and the surgeons would like to speak with you in ten minutes on the progress of Domenico and Tango’s condition.”
“Thank you Miss. Jikonos, and that will be all.”
“Yes sir.”
Miss. Jikonos pulled the door close.
Mr. Delaro reached out for the telephone receiver, lifted it from out the cradle, and placed it up to his ear. He pressed in the number to his daughter’s Blackberry.
ZD’S ART GALLERY
Park Avenue
Manhattan, New York
Zaniyah placed the framed painting from the John-Richard collection aside. She walked around her desk and reached down for her Blackberry. She slid it open and looked down at the number on the screen.
“Shit.”
Zaniyah took a deep breath. She pressed in the okay button and placed the Blackberry up to her ear.
“Yes, father.”
SAND POINT
Long Island, New York
“I was calling to ask how are you. And can you join your father for dinner this evening.”
“Oh, father, I would love too, however, me and the girls already have plans to attend a Jazz Expo this evening.”
“Then I will meet you ladies at Carbon’s Italian Ristorante much later.”
“We will be there around ten.”
“I have been meaning to ask you. Has your vehicle been serviced?”
“Yes sir, I’m now driving my own wheels.”
“Good. Say, you wouldn’t happen to know where I could find that black guy.”
Zaniyah held her Blackberry back; she placed it back up to her ear.
“Father, Marcus and I are no longer communicating with one another, as of yesterday.”
Mr. Delaro palmed his mustache down.
“I will see you this evening dear.”
“Yes sir.”
Zaniyah slid her Blackberry down.
Her father was just a little too calm. She knew something was brewing in the wind, but what? She is no longer seeing Marcus.
“I refuse to have you invade my life, turn my emotions topsy-turvy and then disappear into the night. Now I’m asking my beautiful woman, what is going on in that beautiful head of hers?”
“I would just like one more night in your arms handsome; damn, damn, damn.”
There was a knock at her door.
“Come in.”
Zaniyah pulled her chair back and sat at her desk.
Her assistant rushed into her office.
“Miss. Delaro, there are five men, scouring through our storage room inventory.”
“What!”
Zaniyah rose from her chair. She rushed out her office. Nikki, followed close behind.
Zaniyah ran down the hall and rounded the corner. She ran into the open area of her art gallery. There were two men who stood at the door. She could not make out their faces, due to the sunglass concealing their eyes.
“I would like to know, what is the meaning of this, and who are you, and what are you two doing in my art gallery
“That is for you to tell me.”
Zaniyah turned around at the deep male’s voice.
A man who stood at least 6 feet 4 inches, stared down at her 5 feet 8 inches.
Dmeshii walked into the open foyer of Zaniyah’s art gallery. He lifted the scarf resting around his suit jacket and wiped the palm of one of his hand.
Nikki and Zaniyah huddled together. Nikki looked behind herself at the two men who remained rooted at the door.
“Can I help you gentlemen with something? This art gallery does not open for patrons for another hour.”
Dmeshii walked over to where Zaniyah and Nikki stood.
Zaniyah stepped back.
“I think you have something that belongs to me.”
“Were you notified from an art dealer your order has arrived at my art gallery?”
Zaniyah looked at Nikki and nodded her head for clarification. Nikki shrugged her shoulders at Zaniyah in ignorance.
“Sir, if you step into my office, we can discuss this further.”
“Huh.”
“An order, I presume you are here to pick up.”
Dmeshii palmed his goatee down.
“Dammit, enough games here! I am here for the crate. I was advised it was delivered here, and according to my men who have combed through several crates and boxes. It’s not here.”
“Are you talking about the crate of teddy bears?”
“That is exactly what we are discussing.”
Dmeshii’s eyes oved over Zaniyah’s breasts.
“I had it returned to the original sender.”
“You fucking did what!”
“If you look around and notice this is an art gallery not a children’s toy store.”
The two men at the door unbuttoned their suit jacket.
Dmeshii looked over Zaniyah and Nikki’s shoulder. He slightly shook his head at his two bodyguards.
“I’m sorry, what is this visit really about?”
Dmeshii glanced down at the woman’s facial features. She was very beautiful, by his Russian standards. He glanced at her facial features again, and very young. He stepped in front of Zaniyah’s face. He clasped her chin and lifted her face. Her innocent eyes met, his stern midnight-black eyes.
“You have three days to get that crate back to me.” Dmeshii, glanced around Zaniyah’s art gallery. “Or this art gallery will not be here.” He looked down at her lips, and then down into her eyes. “Do we understand each other, Zaniyah Delaro?”
Zaniyah nodded her head.
Dmeshii looked over at Nikki.
“It would such a pity to have two beautiful corpses floating down the Hudson River.”
Dmeshii released Zaniyah’s chin.
“Boys,” Dmeshii bellowed out.
Five men glided into the open foyer of Zaniyah’s art gallery. One of the men posted at the door stepped back, turned, and open the door.
All seven men walked out her art gallery. From looking out the floor-to-ceiling window, a waiting gray long stretch Mercedes limousine.
Dmeshii turned to Nikki, and then turned to face Zaniyah.
“Ladies.”
Dmeshii walked out the door.
Zaniyah ran over to the door, slammed the door close, and then locked it. She pulled down the door shade.
“Nikki, I need you to get on the phone and track down that crate.”
“What if the crate has already been returned?”
“I hope not, and what the hell was enclosed, other than teddy bears.”
“Maybe those men were going to put those teddy bears on the market.”
“Then they should have insurance on their shipment. Dammit Nikki, what happens if we cannot find that crate.”
“You heard that man.” Nikki looked around the art gallery. “This art gallery will not be here.”
“Yes, I heard that as well.”
“Maybe we should call the police.”
“Until I know the significant of the contents inside that crate, I say we hold off.”
“Okay, you’re the boss.”
“I will be in my office on the phone trying to locate that damn crate.”
Zaniyah turned and walked back to her office. She bypassed her storage room. She ducked her head inside.
Several box flaps were open and several crates had the wooden tops off.
Zaniyah took a deep breath and walked to her office.
QUINTESSENTIAL TRIBECA LOFT
New York, New York
Later That Evening
Marcus knotted his tie. He lifted a bottle of aftershave, tilted the bottle into his palm, and upright the bottom. He slapped the liquid scent to both cheeks before the droplets flowed into the sink. He reached down for his wallet. It slid inside the wastebasket.
“Shit.”
Marcus lifted the wastebasket and placed it on the vanity surface. He rummaged inside for his wallet. He lifted it out. A box was stuck to the leather skin. He peeled it off. He read the box, “An ovulation detecting kit. What the fuck.”
Marcus placed his wallet down on the vanity. He turned and perched his presence of the vanity top. He thought back to all the times Zaniyah and him made love without a condom. He palmed down his goatee.
“I know this bitch was not trying to get pregnant, and by me?” First he felt honored, and then pissed. “That should have been a mutual decision, fucking bitch.”
Marcus dropped the box back inside the wastebasket; he set it back down on the floor.
“Dammit, what were the test results, shit!” He erected his posture, bent over, and looked back inside the wastebasket. He moved several items against the side. He did not see the actually test. “So she planned this shit?”
Marcus angrily placed his wallet inside the back of his pants pockets. He walked out the bathroom.
BLUE NOTE JAZZ CLUB
New York, New York
Marcus escorted his date into the Blue Note Jazz Club. He founded a table up front. He pulled back the chair for his date.
“Thank you.” Francine sat down. She looked around the intimate Jazz Club. “I’ve never been here before, and I heard this place is legendary.”
“Then you are in for a treat.”
“You may thrill me with your treat anytime, agent man.”
Marcus winked at Francine.
“What is my beaut… What are you drinking tonight?”
“A white wine would be nice.”
“And no one sits here, but me, you feel me.”
“Much later, I sure would like too.”
“I love when you’re bringing it.”
“I’m way past bringing it, consider it now brought.”
“Then I suppose, this brotha has to represent.”
“Yes you do.”
Marcus stroked Francine’s cheek. He walked over to the bar.
Zaniyah, Rosalina, and Martinez walked into the Blue Note Jazz Club.
“Good, it’s not that crowded yet,” Martinez, mentioned to the two.
Zaniyah looked around. “And there are still several tables available.”
“Why you two go and grab us a table. I will go and grab the first round of drinks.”
“All right,” both women replied in union.
Zaniyah and Martinez walked toward the back of the Jazz Club to select a table.
Rosalina walked over to the bar. She noticed the guy from the Italian Ristorante.
“Good evening.”
Marcus pivoted toward the soft voice.
“Well nice to see you again pretty lady.”
“I never mistook you to admire Jazz.”
“I played a few notes for a Jazz band in my college days.”
Marcus glanced around the Jazz Club.
“She’s here as well, Marcus.”
“Here you are sir.”
Rosalina noticed the two glasses Marcus just paid for.
Oh, boy she thought.
“Take care and enjoy your evening.”
“You too, Marcus.”
Rosalina returned to the table. She looked down at the empty seat.
“Where is Zaniyah?”
“She excused herself to go to the restroom.”
“Don’t mention it, but Marcus is here.”
“Don’t mention what?”
Rosalina looked up.
Zaniyah claimed her seat.
“Don’t mention what to me.”
“Ahh.”
“Would you just say it?”
“Marcus is here.”
“My Marcus. I mean, the man from the Italian Ristorante.”
“Yes, the one and same.”
“Where?”
“I assume in the front, and girl, the man looks damn handsome this evening.”
Martinez looked over at Zaniyah.
“I will be right back.”
Rosalina placed her hand over Zaniyah’s hand.
“He’s already here with someone.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, he was paying for two drinks.”
“Well, it’s his loss. To the ladies this evening.”
Each woman lifted their drink, clicked their glasses together and then took a sip.
Marcus looked around the Jazz Club. He looked back at Francine. He took a swig of his drink and looked around the Jazz Club once again.
Francine scooted closer to Marcus’ chair.
“Would anyone like a drink?”
Martinez and Rosalina looked down at their half-filled glass, and then over at Zaniyah’s glass.
“I’m good.”
“So am I.”
“I will be right back.”
Zaniyah rose from her chair. She made a path through several patrons, filling the Jazz Club. She looked over at Marcus, and an African American female cozy upped. She walked over to the bar.
Marcus glanced around the Jazz Club. His eyes landed on Zaniyah walking over to the bar. He leaned over and whispered in his date’s ear, “I’ll be right back, I see an old acquaintance of mine.”
“Sure.”
Marcus stood and walked over to the bar. He looked at the back of Zaniyah’s legs.
The white dress she had on molded her derrière, and curvaceous hips. He leaned forward, and palmed her back. He hand slipped downward to her buttocks and squeezed them. As he suspected she did not have any underwear on.
“That hand is an invasion of privacy.”
“This hand along with the fingers have been more places on this body than the ass.”
Zaniyah smiled and turned around. She looked up into Marcus’ eyes.
“You look handsome this evening.”
Marcus looked down at Zaniyah’s breasts. Her hair was coiled on top of her head; even her neck, bare shoulder blades appeared sexy to his eyes.
“Thank you, and you look sexy.”
“Thank you. Well I would allow you to get back to your date.”
“Pardon me.”
“Your date.”
“Oh yes, well take care of yourself.”
“Ahh you too.”
“Oh snap, I found an ovulating detecting kit in my bathroom wastebasket, you have any idea how it got there.”
“Yes, I use them in regards to irregularity, and let’s just admit it, I do not want your child.”
“With a stubborn woman who cannot determine if she is a child or a woman in the next breath, I do not want a child from you. Have a nice evening, Zaniyah.”
Marcus walked away.
“Oh…he makes me…”
She missed his arms and the security she found in them.
Copyright©SKC-2024
Long Island, New York
The chauffer pulled the limousine around the circular driveway. He parked the vehicle, withdrew the key from out the ignition, and then unsnapped his seatbelt. He pushed his door open and stepped out. He pushed the door close
Mr. Delaro and three other men were already assisting Tango and Domenico out the limousine.
Two men placed Tango’s arm around their shoulder.
Mr. Delaro and another man, placed Domenico’s arm around their shoulder.
“Hang in there Domenico and stay with me.”
“Fuck!” Domenico scowled in pain. “Mr. Delaro…that nigger…is…is…fucking crazy, Mr. Dela…Zaniyah…Russians, crate, save her,” Domenico rushed out in a state of mental frenzy. He looked around; he was dizzy, disoriented, sweating profusely, and losing a lot of blood from his open wounds.
Mr. Delaro looked down at the blood saturation at Domenico’s thigh, and then up at both of his dangling bleeding hands.
Domenico’s body went limp, his head slumped forward.
“Come on man hang in there. The doctors are waiting on you two.”
Mr. Delaro rushed to his door. He looked back.
Tango’s head was hung forward. Mr. Delaro assumed he was unconscious.
Two men carried Tango to the front door. The tip of Tango’s toes dragged on the paved concrete.
“Hurry up dammit!” Mr. Delaro hollered to his staff.
The chauffeur took his hat off and wiped away the accumulated sweat to his forehead. He has never heard grown men, wallow in pain, as he has heard mile after mile.
Domenico and Tango was assisted through the door of sterile spacious bedroom setting.
A private team of doctors, three surgeons, and four nurses donned in surgical scrubs, protective covering on their shoes, and face plastic shields, awaited their presence.
A surgeon wheeled a gurney over to Mr. Delaro and the other man holding up Domenico’s limp body.
Domenico was lifted and placed on a gurney and rushed across a makeshift operating room. Two nurses and the two doctors lifted Domenico’s body and transferred him to an operating table. His pants were immediately cut off him and peeled away. His jacket and shirt sleeve were cut and then ribbed open.
The nurse thumped for a vein.
An IV was inserted inside the back of his hand, wrapped, and the transport fluid tubing, was taped down.
A potassium chloride drip was started.
Tango heard voices in and out of conscious. He felt something being inserted at the back of his hand.
Several people were talking over him, blurred visons of faces looked down on him before someone placed a mask over his nose and mouth. He succumbed to the darkness.
Mr. Delaro looked on as two of his best men were operated on. He quietly slipped out the bedroom.
Mr. Delaro huffed back to his study and entered. He slammed the door close. He walked around his desk and took a seat. He lifted the telephone receiver and dialed several numbers. He placed the receiver up to his ear.
LITTLE ITALY
Lower Manhattan, New York
Mulberry Street
“I need everyone here by nightfall, and that favor.” Mr. Delaro leveled the receiver to his chin. He thought for a moment. His father wanted him to get the last title deed to Mr. Ramo’s property, which is preventing their final phase of building a casino in Manhattan and the borough of Brooklynn.
Mr. Delaro placed the receiver back up to his ear.
“I will call you tomorrow.”
“Word, on the street. Your best two men were shot up by a Negro.”
“Yes, a potential problem I have to wait on dealing with.”
“All you have to do is give us the word to take him out.”
“Soon very soon.”
Mr. Delaro slammed the receiver back in the cradle.
Now that his two best men are fighting for their lives. He needs someone to step in a get that last title deed from Mr. Ramo.
“Fuck, I’m almost there, shit.”
He just may have to go and pay Mr. Ramo a visit himself.
“Miss. Jikonos,” Mr. Delaro hollered out.
Miss. Jikonos rubbed her hands on the front of her apron and walked out the kitchen. Her feet took her in the direction of Mr. Delaro’s study.
Miss. Jikonos knocked on the door.
“Come in.”
Miss. Jikonos reached down for the doorknob, twisted it, and then opened the door. She stepped inside Mr. Delaro’s study.
“Yes sir.”
“I need you to advise the chauffeur to have the limousine cleaned and detailed and then have my Rolls Royce ready to ride out in an hour.”
Miss. Jikonos bowed.
“Yes sir.”
THE GRAND MILLENNIUM CONDOMINIUMS
Manhattan, New York
Upper West Side
Later That Afternoon
Zaniyah paced her condominium. Any minute, she knew Tango or Domenico would come and whisk her away to her father’s estate.
Her telephone rang. She looked over at the telephone stand.
“Shit.”
Zaniyah walked over to the telephone stand, and lifted the receiver from out the cradle. She placed it up to her ear.
“Hello.”
ONE BEACON COURT
Manhattan, New York
“Girl where have you been? And why did you leave your girls hanging last night.”
“I’m sorry, something came up, and I left my Blackberry at my art gallery to contact anyone.”
“Well I have us seated at the Jazz Expo at the Blue Note Jazz Club this evening, and no excuses.”
“Why do you make it seem as if you’re not going to be lying in my bed in the future; more so, like later on, after I take my beautiful woman out to dinner, and no more excuses beautiful woman?”
Zaniyah smiled; Marcus told her the exact same thing this morning.
God she missed his arrogance, his presence, and him in general.
“Zaniyah are you there.”
“I’m sorry, yes, and I could really use a night out. You two can meet me in front of the Jazz Club.”
“Listen, if you cannot make it, please call.”
“I will Rosalina, and I’m sorry about last evening.”
“I hope he was well worth it under the covers.”
That and so much more she wanted to say.
“I will see you this evening.”
Zaniyah replaced the receiver back in the cradle.
QUINTESSENTIAL TRIBECA LOFT
New York, New York
Later That Afternoon
Marcus closed the door after two of his Navy Seal friends, and a discreet crime scene cleanup crew assisted him with the cleanup of his loft, his hallway, the freight elevator, and his entry hallway. He walked over to his couch. He looked down at the carpet. Not a blood stain remained behind. He glanced around.
The sanitizer odor was strong in the air, yet very effective for the job for which it completed.
Tomorrow he will have the entire carpet replaced and the bill, as he thought earlier, will be sent to Mr. Delaro.
“And to think, I was fucking that bastard’s daughter. Well it’s about time I hit some skin and not the daughter of a mobster.”
Marcus walked over to his stairwell, and walked up the steps.
In a crises such as this; he knew just the female who could arise to the call of pleasure. Marcus smiled as he continued to walk up the steps.
SAND POINT
Long Island, New York
There was a knock at the door. Mr. Delaro set his ink pen down on his desk and looked over at the door
“Come in.”
Miss. Jikonos opened the door to Mr. Delaro’s study. She peeped her head inside.
“Mr. Delaro, Carlito, has advised me the limousine has been cleaned and detailed and is now accessible, and your Rolls Royce has been pulled out front. Oh, and the surgeons would like to speak with you in ten minutes on the progress of Domenico and Tango’s condition.”
“Thank you Miss. Jikonos, and that will be all.”
“Yes sir.”
Miss. Jikonos pulled the door close.
Mr. Delaro reached out for the telephone receiver, lifted it from out the cradle, and placed it up to his ear. He pressed in the number to his daughter’s Blackberry.
ZD’S ART GALLERY
Park Avenue
Manhattan, New York
Zaniyah placed the framed painting from the John-Richard collection aside. She walked around her desk and reached down for her Blackberry. She slid it open and looked down at the number on the screen.
“Shit.”
Zaniyah took a deep breath. She pressed in the okay button and placed the Blackberry up to her ear.
“Yes, father.”
SAND POINT
Long Island, New York
“I was calling to ask how are you. And can you join your father for dinner this evening.”
“Oh, father, I would love too, however, me and the girls already have plans to attend a Jazz Expo this evening.”
“Then I will meet you ladies at Carbon’s Italian Ristorante much later.”
“We will be there around ten.”
“I have been meaning to ask you. Has your vehicle been serviced?”
“Yes sir, I’m now driving my own wheels.”
“Good. Say, you wouldn’t happen to know where I could find that black guy.”
Zaniyah held her Blackberry back; she placed it back up to her ear.
“Father, Marcus and I are no longer communicating with one another, as of yesterday.”
Mr. Delaro palmed his mustache down.
“I will see you this evening dear.”
“Yes sir.”
Zaniyah slid her Blackberry down.
Her father was just a little too calm. She knew something was brewing in the wind, but what? She is no longer seeing Marcus.
“I refuse to have you invade my life, turn my emotions topsy-turvy and then disappear into the night. Now I’m asking my beautiful woman, what is going on in that beautiful head of hers?”
“I would just like one more night in your arms handsome; damn, damn, damn.”
There was a knock at her door.
“Come in.”
Zaniyah pulled her chair back and sat at her desk.
Her assistant rushed into her office.
“Miss. Delaro, there are five men, scouring through our storage room inventory.”
“What!”
Zaniyah rose from her chair. She rushed out her office. Nikki, followed close behind.
Zaniyah ran down the hall and rounded the corner. She ran into the open area of her art gallery. There were two men who stood at the door. She could not make out their faces, due to the sunglass concealing their eyes.
“I would like to know, what is the meaning of this, and who are you, and what are you two doing in my art gallery
“That is for you to tell me.”
Zaniyah turned around at the deep male’s voice.
A man who stood at least 6 feet 4 inches, stared down at her 5 feet 8 inches.
Dmeshii walked into the open foyer of Zaniyah’s art gallery. He lifted the scarf resting around his suit jacket and wiped the palm of one of his hand.
Nikki and Zaniyah huddled together. Nikki looked behind herself at the two men who remained rooted at the door.
“Can I help you gentlemen with something? This art gallery does not open for patrons for another hour.”
Dmeshii walked over to where Zaniyah and Nikki stood.
Zaniyah stepped back.
“I think you have something that belongs to me.”
“Were you notified from an art dealer your order has arrived at my art gallery?”
Zaniyah looked at Nikki and nodded her head for clarification. Nikki shrugged her shoulders at Zaniyah in ignorance.
“Sir, if you step into my office, we can discuss this further.”
“Huh.”
“An order, I presume you are here to pick up.”
Dmeshii palmed his goatee down.
“Dammit, enough games here! I am here for the crate. I was advised it was delivered here, and according to my men who have combed through several crates and boxes. It’s not here.”
“Are you talking about the crate of teddy bears?”
“That is exactly what we are discussing.”
Dmeshii’s eyes oved over Zaniyah’s breasts.
“I had it returned to the original sender.”
“You fucking did what!”
“If you look around and notice this is an art gallery not a children’s toy store.”
The two men at the door unbuttoned their suit jacket.
Dmeshii looked over Zaniyah and Nikki’s shoulder. He slightly shook his head at his two bodyguards.
“I’m sorry, what is this visit really about?”
Dmeshii glanced down at the woman’s facial features. She was very beautiful, by his Russian standards. He glanced at her facial features again, and very young. He stepped in front of Zaniyah’s face. He clasped her chin and lifted her face. Her innocent eyes met, his stern midnight-black eyes.
“You have three days to get that crate back to me.” Dmeshii, glanced around Zaniyah’s art gallery. “Or this art gallery will not be here.” He looked down at her lips, and then down into her eyes. “Do we understand each other, Zaniyah Delaro?”
Zaniyah nodded her head.
Dmeshii looked over at Nikki.
“It would such a pity to have two beautiful corpses floating down the Hudson River.”
Dmeshii released Zaniyah’s chin.
“Boys,” Dmeshii bellowed out.
Five men glided into the open foyer of Zaniyah’s art gallery. One of the men posted at the door stepped back, turned, and open the door.
All seven men walked out her art gallery. From looking out the floor-to-ceiling window, a waiting gray long stretch Mercedes limousine.
Dmeshii turned to Nikki, and then turned to face Zaniyah.
“Ladies.”
Dmeshii walked out the door.
Zaniyah ran over to the door, slammed the door close, and then locked it. She pulled down the door shade.
“Nikki, I need you to get on the phone and track down that crate.”
“What if the crate has already been returned?”
“I hope not, and what the hell was enclosed, other than teddy bears.”
“Maybe those men were going to put those teddy bears on the market.”
“Then they should have insurance on their shipment. Dammit Nikki, what happens if we cannot find that crate.”
“You heard that man.” Nikki looked around the art gallery. “This art gallery will not be here.”
“Yes, I heard that as well.”
“Maybe we should call the police.”
“Until I know the significant of the contents inside that crate, I say we hold off.”
“Okay, you’re the boss.”
“I will be in my office on the phone trying to locate that damn crate.”
Zaniyah turned and walked back to her office. She bypassed her storage room. She ducked her head inside.
Several box flaps were open and several crates had the wooden tops off.
Zaniyah took a deep breath and walked to her office.
QUINTESSENTIAL TRIBECA LOFT
New York, New York
Later That Evening
Marcus knotted his tie. He lifted a bottle of aftershave, tilted the bottle into his palm, and upright the bottom. He slapped the liquid scent to both cheeks before the droplets flowed into the sink. He reached down for his wallet. It slid inside the wastebasket.
“Shit.”
Marcus lifted the wastebasket and placed it on the vanity surface. He rummaged inside for his wallet. He lifted it out. A box was stuck to the leather skin. He peeled it off. He read the box, “An ovulation detecting kit. What the fuck.”
Marcus placed his wallet down on the vanity. He turned and perched his presence of the vanity top. He thought back to all the times Zaniyah and him made love without a condom. He palmed down his goatee.
“I know this bitch was not trying to get pregnant, and by me?” First he felt honored, and then pissed. “That should have been a mutual decision, fucking bitch.”
Marcus dropped the box back inside the wastebasket; he set it back down on the floor.
“Dammit, what were the test results, shit!” He erected his posture, bent over, and looked back inside the wastebasket. He moved several items against the side. He did not see the actually test. “So she planned this shit?”
Marcus angrily placed his wallet inside the back of his pants pockets. He walked out the bathroom.
BLUE NOTE JAZZ CLUB
New York, New York
Marcus escorted his date into the Blue Note Jazz Club. He founded a table up front. He pulled back the chair for his date.
“Thank you.” Francine sat down. She looked around the intimate Jazz Club. “I’ve never been here before, and I heard this place is legendary.”
“Then you are in for a treat.”
“You may thrill me with your treat anytime, agent man.”
Marcus winked at Francine.
“What is my beaut… What are you drinking tonight?”
“A white wine would be nice.”
“And no one sits here, but me, you feel me.”
“Much later, I sure would like too.”
“I love when you’re bringing it.”
“I’m way past bringing it, consider it now brought.”
“Then I suppose, this brotha has to represent.”
“Yes you do.”
Marcus stroked Francine’s cheek. He walked over to the bar.
Zaniyah, Rosalina, and Martinez walked into the Blue Note Jazz Club.
“Good, it’s not that crowded yet,” Martinez, mentioned to the two.
Zaniyah looked around. “And there are still several tables available.”
“Why you two go and grab us a table. I will go and grab the first round of drinks.”
“All right,” both women replied in union.
Zaniyah and Martinez walked toward the back of the Jazz Club to select a table.
Rosalina walked over to the bar. She noticed the guy from the Italian Ristorante.
“Good evening.”
Marcus pivoted toward the soft voice.
“Well nice to see you again pretty lady.”
“I never mistook you to admire Jazz.”
“I played a few notes for a Jazz band in my college days.”
Marcus glanced around the Jazz Club.
“She’s here as well, Marcus.”
“Here you are sir.”
Rosalina noticed the two glasses Marcus just paid for.
Oh, boy she thought.
“Take care and enjoy your evening.”
“You too, Marcus.”
Rosalina returned to the table. She looked down at the empty seat.
“Where is Zaniyah?”
“She excused herself to go to the restroom.”
“Don’t mention it, but Marcus is here.”
“Don’t mention what?”
Rosalina looked up.
Zaniyah claimed her seat.
“Don’t mention what to me.”
“Ahh.”
“Would you just say it?”
“Marcus is here.”
“My Marcus. I mean, the man from the Italian Ristorante.”
“Yes, the one and same.”
“Where?”
“I assume in the front, and girl, the man looks damn handsome this evening.”
Martinez looked over at Zaniyah.
“I will be right back.”
Rosalina placed her hand over Zaniyah’s hand.
“He’s already here with someone.”
“Oh.”
“Yes, he was paying for two drinks.”
“Well, it’s his loss. To the ladies this evening.”
Each woman lifted their drink, clicked their glasses together and then took a sip.
Marcus looked around the Jazz Club. He looked back at Francine. He took a swig of his drink and looked around the Jazz Club once again.
Francine scooted closer to Marcus’ chair.
“Would anyone like a drink?”
Martinez and Rosalina looked down at their half-filled glass, and then over at Zaniyah’s glass.
“I’m good.”
“So am I.”
“I will be right back.”
Zaniyah rose from her chair. She made a path through several patrons, filling the Jazz Club. She looked over at Marcus, and an African American female cozy upped. She walked over to the bar.
Marcus glanced around the Jazz Club. His eyes landed on Zaniyah walking over to the bar. He leaned over and whispered in his date’s ear, “I’ll be right back, I see an old acquaintance of mine.”
“Sure.”
Marcus stood and walked over to the bar. He looked at the back of Zaniyah’s legs.
The white dress she had on molded her derrière, and curvaceous hips. He leaned forward, and palmed her back. He hand slipped downward to her buttocks and squeezed them. As he suspected she did not have any underwear on.
“That hand is an invasion of privacy.”
“This hand along with the fingers have been more places on this body than the ass.”
Zaniyah smiled and turned around. She looked up into Marcus’ eyes.
“You look handsome this evening.”
Marcus looked down at Zaniyah’s breasts. Her hair was coiled on top of her head; even her neck, bare shoulder blades appeared sexy to his eyes.
“Thank you, and you look sexy.”
“Thank you. Well I would allow you to get back to your date.”
“Pardon me.”
“Your date.”
“Oh yes, well take care of yourself.”
“Ahh you too.”
“Oh snap, I found an ovulating detecting kit in my bathroom wastebasket, you have any idea how it got there.”
“Yes, I use them in regards to irregularity, and let’s just admit it, I do not want your child.”
“With a stubborn woman who cannot determine if she is a child or a woman in the next breath, I do not want a child from you. Have a nice evening, Zaniyah.”
Marcus walked away.
“Oh…he makes me…”
She missed his arms and the security she found in them.
Copyright©SKC-2024
Published 13th Oct 2024
Author's Note
This is a chapter from one of my many published novels. I will be adding a chapter to celebrate life in general
Love and Hugs,
SKC🤎
Love and Hugs,
SKC🤎
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 1
reading list entries 0
comments 2
reads 192
Commenting Preference:
The author is looking for friendly feedback.
13th Oct 2024 4:50pm
What chapter this was full of action and a night of passion about to take place
15th Oct 2024 6:12pm
