Chapter 7

Deloria, today makes it two days into the dateline of our contract execution and you haven't said anything. Please update me on the situation of things," said Don Rocco.

Deloria cleared her throat and said to him:

"The parcel was sent and received in a flawless operation,"

"You talk in parables, my dear. Am an old man; you wouldn't want me to crack my brain in the process of figuring out what you mean, would you?"

"But the message was clear enough, Mr Rocco,"

"Vivre, Deloria! I know you would always deliver at any given time."

"Thank you, Mr Epifany."

"When do we recover the diseased corpse from the Vatican?"

"That's a different bowl of fish, Mr Epifany. I would see to it that your request is tabled before the Papacy with immediate effect."

"Good luck, Deloria. I hope to hear from you soon."

Deloria nodded in affirmation. while Don Rocco walks away, she stares at his footsteps.

"This old man is trying to be a hard nut to crack, but hey, no rough feelings here, for I will always be miles ahead of you," said.

It's seven days into the new year and dust begins to settle down in the recent upheavals that boil the city of Rome but Deloria was not settled yet, even the cushions have become thorny for comfort. She continues to imagine what sinister tomorrow might come with it. The high spirit that usually accompanies the New Year met her in a subdued mood. She takes refuge in fantasying about herself in her lover's arms, ramming each other in between the sheets.

For Rafael, the earthbound lead balloon, it was a party all the way; floating around in a feel-good mood celebrating his recent exploits in the world of business.

She peeped through the curtains only to see that he was the only one digging it out with a salsa step dance without Margaritta, his wife, that is always strapped behind him like a parachute. She has been the shadows of herself since their return from the historic deal brokered between her husband and the Chines Conglomerate; showing signs of weaknesses and inactivity. She has likely been clamped down by the dreaded Corona Virus Disease. Deloria recalled seeing her carry around tissues and moping up her leaking nose. She also complained of loss of appetite, all signs of the 'Wuhan export'.

She patrols her mother's frequented areas in the house, beginning with the kitchen and then each of the three large sitting rooms in the eighteen room mansion but couldn't find Margaritta and Mascara.

"Something must be wrong," she murmured to herself. She wasted no time to check the bed chambers only to find her there, lying on the bed, downed by some yet to be identified sickness.

"Don't come any further near me, Longoria; I am afraid that my furry friend and I have got for ourselves the Covid 19 disease. Where is Rafeal? Where is Rafeal," She asked?

"Rafeal is downstairs dancing to some karaoke," answered Deloria.

"Tell him to get his ass-lips on the phone and call in help from the experts."

"Okay, Margaritta." Answered Rafeal instead of Deloria, panting hard from the exhaustion of ascending the staircase to the bedroom.

"This is the Italian centre for disease control rapid response team. Hi, how may we be of help to you, sir?"

"Oh, it's my wife," said Rafeal, still breathing hard.

"What about your wife, sir?"

"She is down and showing a probable sign of sickness related to the novel coronavirus disease. Could you please make yourselves useful by rushing down to my house?"

His words were packed with heavy punches, getting the receptionist irritatingly excited.

"Sure, Mr., but you must give us your name and address first, and after that, if you are standing, sit down and be calm while we get help for your wife, okay?"

Mr Rafael covered the mouthpiece of the telephone with his hands and said to Deloria, "the son of a b...ch talks slowly like he has some mechanical fault in his system. How can he expect me to calm down when my wife is being invaded by an eerie disease that threatens to evict the soul out of her body?" Rafeal put back the telephone on his mouth and continued to speak again, "the name is Rafael Massimo Gabriel, residence Ao1, Mayday ranch, Sicily."

"Thank you sir for the information and do not attempt to come to the hospital; stay where you are." Said the receptionist.

Two out of the numerous house helps from Rafael's household got their share of the spread. Rafael too was not left out, neither was three of his attaché and the chief of guards in his house. This prompted them to conduct a test on everyone that came in contact with them, including Mr Soprano Visconti and Don Rocco Epifany.

The Rafeals objected to being taken to the hospital set aside by the government for persons infected by the virus, they preferred to be quarantined in the comfort of their unused edifice at the southern fringes of Sicily, and so it was.

The medical team got them evacuated and got the house fumigated while Deloria sought refuge in another of their choicest properties neighbouring the building where her parents are receiving medical attention.

In one of her routine visits to her parents, the condition of all but one was stable, Mascara has not been able to hold on to the heat turned up by the coronavirus disease and was advises by experts to be eliminated. And so, Mascara was put to eternal rest by lethal injection. Life would never be the same again for Margaritta, that is if she makes it out of her sickbed alive. She will learn to live without Mascara, her best friend in a world championed by a new normal, where the fear of the virus is the beginning of wisdom. Driving men to masquerade around in masks, making them forget who they were behind it.

Don Rocco who was unaffected by the disease was denied entry to see his friend, Rafeal. But trust Don Rocco not to chicken out easily if faced with a daunting situation. He smashed through a two-man security wall and ran towards a room where Rafeal was being confined. It was a hilarious moment for the guards, causing serious hysteria from among a cross-section of paramedics in the mini-drama staged by him.

Rafeal was not lying in bed but was up and doing in the living room and was happy to see his friend again after some time. Don Rocco hugs him and kisses him on the cheek.

"We shall not die from the coronavirus onslaught but of natural causes," said Don Rocco. He took a seat beside Mr Rafeal with his hands laid on his shoulders.

"And Margaritta?" He asked.

"Margaritta has recouped beautifully and is currently taking her nap and Deloria just left for the United States of America to see through with the concluding part of my agreement reached with the Chines company."

"What a New Year gift that was for you." Said Don Rocco, feeling proud Of Rafeal's indomitable spirit in his quest to reach the top of the billionaires' food chain in Sicily, just like himself.

"Sir," said one of the doctors, "if you wouldn't mind, it's time for Mr Rafeal to take his second round of medication."

"I was just about to take my leave, doctah!" said Don Rocco snobbishly.

******

The Streets of queens from the John F. Kennedy international airport is being clear of snow deposits from the aftermath of a blizzard that swept across the northeastern parts of the United States. This year, the winter's bark was as seething as its bite; going deep into the minus side on the degree centigrade scale but life at Soprano Visconti's penthouse at the upper Westside neighbourhood at the borough of Manhattan was the opposite.

Deloria's cuteness and cultured manners took Visconti 'prisoner'. He was tempted to run his hands on her leathery corset skin but was promptly apprehended:

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," she said smartly, not losing her cool in the process.

"I should have warned you that am engaged and that I forbade men that am not into a romantic entanglement with giving them the pleasure of touching my body."

"But…"

"But what, Mr Visconti? Am sure Mr Rafeal Massimo did not ask you to be promiscuous with your hands, did he? I would like you to deal with me only at a professional level or else I stage a walk-out."

"Of course miss Deloria," said Soprano Visconti gracefully, "am not responsible for whatever may be the cause of your paranoia. However, am not in any way affected by it.

How about going on a trot around New York City?" He asked.

"That would have been the best thing you would do for me since my arrival.

Soprano Visconti was happy to have known some of Deloria's likes by accident and pledged to make it memorable enough to steal her heart from his formidable competitor that he wasn't aware was no longer in the contest.

The first port of call was the Italian restaurant, Isle of Caprice, where Soprano flayed before her the best of American dishes. Soprano Visconti never knew Deloria was capable of being happy until now which has made him drop the fears that have been holding him back from owning her.

After that, they went for a cruise by the Statue of Liberty and then to a walk across the Broadway theatre. Shedding his inhibitions, Soprano Visconti threw once again his adventurous hands-on waistline and landed unceremoniously on her bottom without protest from her.

"Wow!" She said, "look at that!"

"It's the empire hotel; it's beautiful, isn't it? Guess what? It's one of my property and am taking you there right away for dinner.

Mr Soprano Visconti took her to the top of the seventy-five storey building housing the hotel and showed her all of the glories of the city of New York and other sky-scrapers he owned and then made a solemn promise to her while kneeling on his right knee with a diamond ring saying: "You see these? pointing to the sparkling high rises. Half of it shall be yours if you agree to marry me."

Deloria's eye popped in surprise.