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Square.
    ¡Mierda!
    There wasn't any way around the fiasco except by making men disappear. Nico had begun hand-picking assassins. Although Tony wasn't fully trained, he had skill and natural leadership ability.
    Right n ow he worried about his wife. Her self-destructive behavior if it were to continue might have her thrown in the pen. He thought she was okay, at least that’s the front she put on, but apparently he was wrong. By the fearful expression on Anita’s face, he could tell Selange’s behavior was out of character. He didn’t want the children to come home and find mommy a mess.
    Normalcy is what Selange had established and what the family expected.
    Agitated that Anita had yet to speak, he asked again, “Tell me where she is ahora!”
    Anita pointed toward the wine cellar. “She’s down there….por favor Alfonzo…por favor be kind…she’s hurting .”
    Be kind ? Selange was on a rampage of late. The assault on Shanda’s mother and now this, goddamn what’s next?
    He had to falsify the passenger manifest, and have video proof showing Selange in Puerto Rico during the assault. But that might not deter Mrs. Johnson from formerly pressing charges. She had the right to do it, besides the legal system for an accused is guilty until proven innocent in the United States. They were leaving PR sooner than later in case the authorities decided to flex their muscle by hauling the wife of a crime lord to prison.
    The descent to the cellar occurred with a short jog. Alfonzo smelled the liquor; damn it was strong. He looked down the aisles filled with bottles, bought to suppress the senses and for occasional celebrations. His shoes did not make a sound as they contacted with the floor. He realized his wife was doing what he often did; dull the pain with drink, except she couldn't hold an ounce of liquor without becoming a piss talking drunk. He suddenly slipped, but immediately righted himself. He cursed because he nearly busted his ass and would’ve toppled on shards of glass.
    He then spotted Selange, inside the storage closet, kneeling in front of the chest with a bottle to her lips. Alfonzo hopped over another spill to walk to the door. He frowned. “What are you doing babe?”
    Like Anita she feigned mute, but at least Anita eventually talked, Selange simply shrugged.
    “What happened today nena…talk to me… we have a pact, remember?”
    Slowly she began to rise. The hazel specks were twinkling menacing stars from booze’s influence. This Selange was not his wife; this woman who tossed an empty bottle at his head was a horrid apparition. He ducked and rushed her ass as she screamed. “Pact… don’t talk to me you sonovabitch!”
    S elange was two sheets to the wind, oh yeah.
    He squeezed his babe tight. She couldn’t move, not even her head could twist. With a husky bass he said, “Get your shit together because when you start throwing bottles at me there's not a conversation in hell we can have.”
    Without another word he had her over his shoulder, stepping carefully over the spills mixed with glass and up the flight of stairs. Anita was nowhere in sight when he reached the landing, she’d gone to start dinner because he could smell the delicious aromas. Selange wiggled around demanding that he put her down, but his lips only pursed tighter in anger. His answer was to clamp hard on her waist. Then the damn woman began screaming and pummeling his spine like a maniac. Now he was pissed.
    Loca!
    He told her to pipe down when he ascended another flight of stairs. He almost dropped her butt when she tried jerking free and she didn’t even realize it. The verbal warning he’d given received a response in assaultive words.
    When liquor talks what might flow from a sweet woman’s mouth are strings of obscenities that can make even a vulgar man blush…oh hell yeah…Alfonzo turned red.
    Selange beat at his head. Under different circumstances he may have laughed, but today he didn’t . A fist too many