by Carl Weber
“No, Vegas, you’re the one out of line and out of touch. I told you to keep that whore and her tramps away from my child! And your brother had the nerve to put it on his Instagram page?”
Damn. Uncle Rio must have put that picture of Danielle lying on my lap on his Insta.
“They’re wearing bathing suits, Consuela. We were at a water park. You’re being ridiculous.” I could see Dad trying to hold his ground, but he didn’t have much ammunition. Best thing he could do was shut up and let her shout until she was burned out, and not take it personally. I knew this from experience.
“No, ridiculous was me even bringing my son around you. This is what I get for thinking you would be a good father to him.” Mom shook her head in frustration, but it wasn’t her I was worried about. I could see my dad was hurt by her comment.
“I am a good father, Consuela.” Dad’s voice remained calm.
Mom stood with her hands on her hips, her face full of doubt.
“I love my son more than anything in this world. I would never do anything to hurt him.”
“Is that why you bring him around whores and prostitutes?”
Okay, it was time for me to intervene. This was getting a little too emotional. I touched my mother’s arm to defuse the situation. “Mom, you’re overreacting. He’s a good father, and you know it. He’s everything you told me he was, and he’s teaching me to be the man you want me to be.” I stared at her, putting on my “cute and loving son” face that always won her over. But of course, that’s when the condom fell out of my pocket.
Oh, crap. I looked up at my mother then down at the condom. The three of us stared at it for what seemed like an eternity before I reluctantly reached down and picked it up.
“What’s that?” my mother asked rhetorically, snatching it from my grasp.
It took me a while to answer, but I finally did, trying to sound grown. “A condom.”
“I can see that,” she said between gritted teeth. “Now can you tell me why you have a condom in your bathing suit? Is that required equipment along with goggles and swim shoes at the water park?”
Once again, there was silence for a while, but this time Dad threw himself under the bus and came to my rescue. “He has it because I gave it to him, Consuela. He’s a young man—”
Dad couldn’t finish his sentence before my mom started cursing him out in Spanish. She was using profanity and slang in ways I’d never even heard before, and I spoke Spanish fluently. At one point, I tuned her out until she switched back to English and said, “Nevada, get in the car. We’re leaving. I’m taking you back to California.”
“What? No!” I yelled a little louder than I expected, surprising all three of us. I rarely, if ever, spoke back to mother, and I never raised my voice—until then. “You’re not taking me from my family and throwing me in some boarding school! I have a family now, a family that loves me, and I love them. Why can’t you understand that?”
“Lower your voice, young man. Now, you heard what I said. Get in the car!” She turned to my dad, fuming. “This is all your fault. You have no one to blame but yourself.”
“Consuela, don’t do this,” Dad pleaded.
“You think I’m going to leave my son here with you and that whore and her mini thots? Nevada, come. Get in the car.”
“Mom, don’t do this, please.” I tried to reason with her. I couldn’t believe this was happening. “What about the rest of the family? Can I at least say goodbye?”
“Súbete al carro inmediatamente. No juegues conmigo,” she yelled in Spanish, letting me know she was not to be played with. “Your father will say goodbye for you.”
I gave my father a hug and slowly walked toward the black SUV. This wasn’t a bad dream; it was a nightmare.
“I love you, son.”
“Love you too,” I replied, feeling totally dejected.
“Don’t worry. We’ll work this all out,” Dad said.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” I murmured under my breath to Mom, heading to the car.
“You will understand when you’re older,” she said. “It’s for your own good.”
Roman
4
It was a well-known fact in the South Bronx that Lex Diamond had the ability to find anything you wanted, no matter what it was—appliances, electronics, steaks, cell phones, guns, you name it. Hell, he was even known to get green cards and Social Security cards if you had enough money. Yep, ol’ Lex was the guy you went to when you needed something, and he was also the person you went to when you needed to unload shit; hence the reason he was the first person Denny and I sought out when we needed to fence our stolen goods.
“Whatcha got going on, fellas?” Lex, an Israeli immigrant in his forties, asked when we showed up at the counter of his Boston Road hardware store.
“We got some primo goods for you, Lex, my man,” Denny bragged.
Lex’s lips twisted into a sarcastic smirk, and his brow furrowed. “Is that so?”
“You damn right. Best shit you’ve seen in a long time,” I replied, making Lex raise an eyebrow.
“All right, then let’s see what you got.” He gestured for us to follow him into a back room, which had a metal desk with a large computer monitor and a calculator on it. There were also two large safes and various padlocked strong boxes scattered around the room.
Lex sat down at the desk, and Denny placed the large black duffle bag in front of him. Lex unzipped the bag, and his surprised eyes went from Denny to me, and back again.
“Holy shit!” I was sure he was expecting us to have some stolen iPhones or some cocaine or heroin like usual, but he’d never anticipated us having what was in front of him then. “Y–you knocked off Louie the jeweler, didn’t you?”
“Well, we didn’t rob the tooth fairy,” I joked.
Lex reached into the bag and took out a diamond-studded bracelet. “The balls on you two. You do know Louie’s connected?”
“No risk, no reward,” I responded.
Lex smiled at me. “Kid, you don’t have balls. You have fucking coconuts between your legs. I’m impressed.”
“Enough of this petty chit chat,” Denny snapped. “You gonna take this merchandise off our hands or what?”
Lex continued going through the bag, taking out a jeweler’s loop and studying several of the pieces. “Hmmmmm. It’s a possibility.”
“Possibility? Man, you full o’ shit. This is good shit and you know it,” I argued.
Lex looked up and sat back in his chair. “You’re right. It is good shit, but where the hell am I going to unload it? You think the cops don’t have a description of this shit?”
Denny glanced over at me with raised eyebrows as if to say, He’s right, Roman.
“Look, Lex, you gonna make an offer or what?” I was quickly growing impatient, mostly because I knew what he was about to do.
“Tell you what. I’ll give you fifty grand for it,” he said nonchalantly, as if he were sitting at the final table of the World Series of Poker.
“Fifty grand? What the fuck? Are you crazy?” I gave him the finger. “This shit is worth at least five hundred K. Fuck that and fuck you.” I reached for the bag and zipped it. “Come on, Denny.”
“Hold up, Rome.” Denny put his hand up to stop me. “Let’s not be hasty. We’re all businessmen here. We can negotiate a fair price. Right, Lex?”
“Hey, I told you what I was willing to pay.” Lex shrugged as if it were no big deal. His nonchalance irritated me even more, especially since I knew he had to want the merchandise.
“Fifty grand seems a little low for product of this quality. How about seventy-five?” Denny sounded like he was pleading, and I wanted to reach out and smack him.
Unlike my friend, I wasn’t willing, nor in the mood, to haggle with Lex. I looked over at Denny and said, “Man, let’s go. We can find another buyer. One who ain’t tryna lowball us.”
“You can try,” Lex replied confidently.
“Lex, I’m tr
ying to work with you,” Denny explained. “You know us. We been bringing you stuff for years.”
“That’s the reason that I’m willing to give you fifty grand for this shit.” Lex finally sat up and looked alert, leaning against the desk as he spoke. “This shit is hot as hell.”
“Are you kidding me? Everything you get is hot!” I was amused by his statement. “You buy hot shit, you sell hot shit. That’s what keeps you in business, because it damn sure ain’t hardware.”
“You fellas don’t understand the severity of the situation. Everybody and their mother is talking about this fucking robbery. It’s been all over the local and national news. I’m gonna have to sit on this shit for six months before I start to unload it. Now, you either take the fifty grand and walk out of here with some money in your pocket, or you can leave and be stuck with it. Because I can promise you this: nobody’s gonna offer you that amount. Hell, real talk, ain’t nobody gonna wanna touch it until that shit cools down.”
The reality of what Lex was saying changed any leverage I thought we had. There had been some talk about the robbery, but we’d been so proud of the fact that we’d pulled it off that the possibility of not being able to get rid of it hadn’t even crossed my mind.
“I guess we’ll see,” I said sternly, unwilling to admit he had a point. I took a few steps toward the door with the bag in my hand. “Come on, Denny.”
“Wait! I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you sixty, and you can each take any piece you like as a parting gift. But this is a one-time offer. You leave outta here with this shit, the price will be thirty when you come back,” Lex said firmly.
“Just give us a sec to talk,” Denny pleaded, pulling me aside.
We stepped into the corner, and he whispered, “Look, I need you to take this deal. I need the money, bro. My ass is broke, and I can’t be waiting to find another fence.” I could see in his face he wasn’t lying.
“He’s robbing us. You know that, right?” I stared at my friend hard.
“Yeah, I know, but sixty grand’s the biggest payday we’ve ever seen.”
“A’ight, man.” I nodded. “But I get the jewelry.”
“Bet. I already took out a bracelet.” Denny turned to Lex. “We’ll take the sixty.”
Lex gave him a satisfied smile then walked over to one of the large safes and pulled out a duffle bag similar to the one holding the jewelry. He pulled out six banded stacks.
Denny and I stared at the money.
“It’s all there. You wanna count it?” Lex encouraged.
“Nah, we good,” I said, picking up three stacks and shoving them into my hoodie pocket. Denny did the same. I took two pieces of jewelry out of the original bag, then we shook Lex’s hand before exiting the same way we had entered.
“So, what’d you think?” Denny asked, getting into his sister’s car. We’d had Li’l Al, our driver, ditch the stolen Ford Escape right after the robbery.
“Thirty grand a piece, minus the two grand we gotta give Li’l Al for driving.” I gave him a thumbs up. “I ain’t complaining.”
“It’s more money than I ever had, and I’ve been stealing shit since I was thirteen.” He drove out of the parking lot.
“So, what you gonna do with your cut?” I asked him.
“Man, I gotta get me a new whip first and foremost. Probably give my baby mama a couple dollars to shut her the fuck up.” Denny laughed. “What about you?”
“Pay my momma’s rent up for the rest of the year,” I said proudly. “Then I think I’m gonna take ol’ girl Kandace down to Miami and wax that ass for a couple of days.”
“Man, you still fucking with that chick?” Denny looked across at me like I’d lost my mind. “It’s a million other bitches out there, and you gotta mess with her? Shit, you crazy as hell.”
“Bro, there’s just something about her that I can’t get enough of,” I admitted.
“It’s that good-ass pussy and that phat ass of hers you can’t get enough of.” He laughed.
“True, she does have a phat ass,” I replied, laughing along with him.
“Just don’t let that phat ass get you put in a pine box,” Denny said, suddenly getting serious. “’Cause ain’t no pussy worth dying over.”
LC
5
“We’re almost there, Pop,” I heard Junior say.
I nodded, staring out the window as we exited I-95 not far from the tunnel in Baltimore. With my son Orlando, the Duncan Motors CEO, somewhere in the Caribbean trying to work out his relationship with his son’s mother, I had decided to take Junior to my meeting instead of Vegas, who usually handled this type of thing. Truth was, Junior was the least inquisitive of my sons, and right now I didn’t need a lot of questions. I needed someone to watch my back, and that was Junior’s specialty.
Ten minutes later, we drove down a dark road and past several abandoned warehouses. At the end of the road, we parked by the water next to a black Ford pickup truck. I could already see the irritated look on Junior’s face when he spotted the Make America Great Again license plate as he exited the car. He stayed on task, though, surveying the area for unexpected guests.
A minute or so later, Junior gave me the signal, and I stepped out of the car, walking up to the truck with him at my side. We were greeted by KD Shrugs, the fat redneck from the conference room, and his refrigerator-sized bodyguard. To look at the two of them, I could see why Sherry and Johnny were intimidated. KD had all the markings of a gun-toting redneck, complete with Confederate flag and KKK identification. But that shit didn’t scare me.
“Just like old times. Right, LC? Except now they got casinos on the other side of the water.” He gazed across the bay at the casino lights, gesturing for me to walk with him. Junior and his bodyguard followed, but far enough away that they couldn’t hear our conversation.
“Where does the time go? Remember when me, you, Sal and Tony Dash, plus your brothers Lou and Larry used to meet here?” He chuckled. “Those was the good old days.”
“For you maybe. But then again, you and your good ol’ boys were calling the shots back then, weren’t you?”
“Somebody had to keep you and your goombah buddies in line. We couldn’t have you running around unchecked, spreading that crap in the wrong neighborhoods. That shit was getting out of hand. Besides, with me no longer a civil servant and you with all your high-falutin’ connections, you’re the one on top now.” He glared at me with disdain, and I glared right back, wishing his fat country ass would have a heart attack and die. The only problem was that we’d had a codependent relationship for so many years. We both needed each other—or at least we used to. But I’d made a few calls before I arrived, so that might not be the case anymore.
“But just remember, what goes up must come crashing fucking down eventually,” he warned.
I grinned. “So I’ve heard, but you would know that better than me. You’re the one who spent all those years in prison.”
Frustration took over his face. “For your information, I only spent two years in prison, and if I remember correctly, you, Sal, and the rest of your criminal buddies were waiting for me at this very spot with bags of cash when I got out. Do you remember that?”
“Like it was yesterday, Sheriff,” I replied, taking a step closer. I’d called him Sherriff to aggravate him, because KD used to be not only the president of the National Sheriffs Association, but also sheriff of El Paso, Texas, a job he’d held for almost twenty years. Shakedowns, bribery, and the largest protection racket this country had ever seen had made him one of the wealthiest law enforcement officers in the country, if not the world. “I also remember that we were the only ones here when you got out. Where the fuck were your good ol’ boys?”
He just stood there in silence because we both knew they’d abandoned him, and from that day forward, he was one of us. A fucking criminal.
“Kiss my ass, LC.”
“I don’t have time for this, KD. Why the hell am I here?” I asked.
�
�We had a problem, but I’ve already taken care of it. No thanks to you,” he replied. I think my little history lesson had snapped him back to reality.
“Good. Now, in the future, if you want to talk, there are protocols for that. I suggest you use them.”
I was about to walk back to the car when he said, “Fuck you! And fuck your protocols, you uppity black son of a bitch! I should be able to talk to you any damn time I please.”
“KD, these protocols were put in place to protect my anonymity.”
“That’s kind of interesting considering we’ve been business partners for twenty years.” He huffed his response. “I came to tell you in person that we had a problem. That’s what business partners do.”
“You keep talking about a problem. What kind of a problem was it?” Now I was curious.
He turned and looked across the water. “We lost a truck.”
“You broke a fifteen-year arrangement and showed up at my office because you lost a fucking truck?” I almost hit him.
“It was a truckload of your merchandise. Over three hundred pounds of marijuana from across the border. I was trying to show some good will and let you know from me personally, considering we ain’t never lost a shipment,” he said proudly.
“That’s awfully nice of you, but let’s stick to the protocols.”
“Again with fucking protocols. We’re partners,” he said adamantly. “Why the disrespect?”
“No disrespect. As long as you follow the protocols, you can talk to me any time you want. Now, is there anything else you wanna talk about before I leave?”
He was not pleased, but I didn’t give a fuck.
“Well, yeah, actually there is. I hear you’re thinking about getting out of the business.”
His words surprised me, and suddenly he had my full attention again, because somebody was talking that shouldn’t be.
“Yes, me and my family are discussing getting out of the marijuana business. With legalization sweeping the country, the business is starting to show a diminishing return with very little upside.”
