Free Animus by S. W. Frank

struck a nerve in Alfonzo and his eyes turned into serpentine slits. “No man walks unscathed where we come from hombre. Working a nine-to-five, doing things by the book for people of color doesn’t equate to a hassle free existence. The only things we have in common Tony is we suck in the same air and have dicks.”
    “I disagree.”
    Alfonzo’s eyebrow rose sharply. “Why is that?”
    “We’re doing what we do for a common purpose, and it isn’t all about money.”
    “That doesn’t make our struggles the same.”
    “You’re a realist and so am I.”
    “You know nothing about my philosophy.”
    “We’re both trapped in a society where rules are lifted when a man’s color is paper but used to incarcerate when it’s bark.”
    Alfonzo’s gaze remained level. “Being pissed at the system is your cross, not mine. There are many differences between us Tony, personally I don’t give a shit about the system it doesn’t mentally cage me.”
    Tony didn’t break eye contact. The Boss tested men daily, examining their weaknesses, flushing out only the strong. Had Tony faltered or delivered an incoherent response, Alfonzo would have officially closed opportunity’s door. “Spending time in a pit puts an internal mirror to the soul. The guy I tried to be isn’t who I was.”
    “Plenty of people doing time have life-changing epiphanies. There’s nothing special in self-reflection when looking at cell-blocks. Some find religion and others turn out worse than before. Big fucking deal!”
    “Except in my case, I stopped pretending. I’ve accepted who I am and refuse to be caged anymore.”  
    Alfonzo stroked the prickly stubble forming on his chin. He was undecided about Tony. Words are letters put together. Many eloquent speakers dazzled the masses. Alfonzo wasn’t a fool, actions far outweighed dribble. “Tell you what Tony, go back to work at that cubicle, be on time every day and assimilate to the nine-to-five and I’ll get back to you.”
    “I can do that.”
    “Bueno. I expect you on that plane with Matt this afternoon, comprende?”
    “No problem.”
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER EIGHT
     
     
     
    The visitor coming through the door received a warm welcome by way of a smile and his name exclaimed, “Tyree!”
    Tyree walked to his mentor’s bedside and hugged her gently. He put his face in her neck and closed his eyes at the surging emotions rising to the surface. “You’re okay…thank God…you’re okay Mrs. Diaz.”
    Her chin was on his shoulder and a hand rubbed his back. A spiritual sister comforting a worried brother is the innocent sight. “I’m okay, it’s good to see you Tyree, and I’m fine.”
    He pulled back and thoroughly examined her with his eyes. “Were you shot?”
    “No.”
    “Do you mind if I review your chart?”
    “Go right ahead Dr. Davis.”
    He found it and didn’t bother to sit as he read the medical reports, tests and daily notes. He didn’t need to understand Italian, most of the diagnostic tools; forms and abbreviations were universally the same. He saw she had surgery to remove a tubal pregnancy, an orbital contusion due to blunt trauma and no secondary findings. He flipped up a sheet and squinted to read the medical doctors’ comments. Unremarkable it showed after the morning exam. “You’re getting released tomorrow.”
    “Um-hum.”
    He returned the chart and flopped in the chair. Ah, he felt so much better. “I couldn’t get here fast enough. The flight seemed forever.”
    “Aw it’s really nice to see you but you shouldn’t have come all this way Tyree. What about your residency?”
    “I took an emergency leave. It’s not a problem.”
    The smile was brilliant. “And the fiancée, where is she?”
    “Home.”
    “I’m invited to the wedding, right?”
    “Of course.” He grinned. Then he sat straight. “How is Mr. Diaz?”
    “He’s doing better.”
    “Is he in ICU?”
    “No, he’s stable. He’s