Free Animus by S. W. Frank Page B

toward someone of Mr. Diaz ’ stature, there wasn’t any other resemblance to stereotypical mobsters on TV. He hadn’t heard any, “Hey paisan,” or any such talk. Tyree deliberated whether some white folks felt this way when they observed regular black people whose conversations weren’t littered with slang or so-called Ebonics. He wondered if that’s why he often received offensive comments considered platitudes by some such as, “You speak very well,” or “You don’t sound black.”
    His response to the ignorance , “I speak English,” and “I didn’t know black was a language.”
    The observation continued. The bodyguards could easily double as the security for a celebrity or any high profile person. Politicians and high-ranking officials had drivers and armed men all the time, nothing criminal in that, right? A rich businessman could afford to have the same security; frankly, it’s a pretty smart idea considering they’re rich. Anyway, up close these men were just a bunch of guys, discussing family, food, and sports and joking like everyone else. Soon, Alfonzo promised to send wine and said good-bye to the patient and they departed.
    Nothing strange about their conversation. No talk of murder, drugs or guns. If Alfonzo was the leader of a mafia empire, heck he came across as a respectable businessman in Tyree’s eyes.
    In the corridor a male in a double-breasted quality suit that Tyree suspected cost more than a year’s worth of subway rides approached. His clean-shaven face was as smooth as a woman’s, yet masculinity oozed from his pores. Tapered hair so black and walnut hued eyes both shone in testament to his good health. The smile when he spotted Alfonzo had a slight sarcastic tug. “Ah, look who is trolling the halls in his gown. I knew I’d find you eventually,” he said and gave Alfonzo a pat on the back. “You look dapper and well.”
    “Don’t lie Matteo ; I look like shit.”
    “Okay. You do look awful but gun battles are ugliness. ” The joviality turned to an inquiry when he finally noticed Tyree. “And who is the unfamiliar face, more family?”
    “My wife’s little friend.”
    “Your wife’s little friend is not little.” Matteo openly scrutinized Tyree from head to foot like a specimen. “What’s your name?”
    “Tyree Davis.”
    “Doctor Tyree Davis,” Alfonzo smirked.
    “A doctor, hmmm,” Matteo mused. “We can always use an on-call physician, eh Alfonzo?”
    “We have enough.”
    Matteo put his arm around Alfonzo’s neck and flexed against the bandage in an effort to jolt his senses. But Alfonzo failed to react, not even a grimace occurred because he built up a high tolerance to pain. Matteo released his hold when he realized Alfonzo wasn’t easily riled. He spoke softly to avoid Tyree overhearing. “There are never enough. Is he any good?”
    “Hell if I know. The kid hasn’t finished his residency.”
    “Even better for you. Consider grooming him in the event we need his services. In my experience amico those with medical training are quite handy in emergencies.”
    “I got it covered Matteo. Where’s your other half, the wailing woman?” Alfonzo laughed.
    “Around.”
    They were at the elevator. “I’m going to visit my brother for a while, coming?” Alfonzo asked.
    “I have done so already. I am not accustomed to him quiet or immobile.”
    “I know.”
    “I will see you after I pay visits to the injured. Your man Estefan requires an increase in salary, eh, amico?”
    “I totally agree.” Alfonzo’s face transformed into softness. He had yet to properly thank Matteo for his aid. “We’ll share a drink when this is over.”
    Matteo held the elevator door for Alfonzo and the young doctor. “This is an endless saga amico. I have stashed the rum in your room. When you have finished talking sweetly to your irascible brother as he naps, call me and we will drink because we have survived another day, capisce?” And then he released the