by Brick
It was going to be hard for him to read that, but I needed his guidance.
“Good thang I got some moonshine in my coffee, then,” he said, sitting down across from me at the table. He opened the journal. He reached in a pocket of his slacks and pulled out a pair of wire glasses. Once they sat on his nose, he sat back and began to read.
“Cory still asleep?” I asked, getting up and filling my cup back up with coffee.
“You know ya brotha.”
I laughed and headed to his room. “Sleeps until the hogs can’t be called anymore, as you say.”
“Fa sho’, nephew.”
My fist banged on Cory’s door; then I opened it. Cory was under a heap of covers. His foot hung off the side of the bed, and his subtle snoring could be heard.
“Kuya, wake your ass up. We got some planning to do.” I kicked his bed, then stepped back, just in case his ass pulled steel on me.
“Bruh,” was all he said as he groaned. His hand reached out from under the sheets to grab his tablet, which lay near him. “Found some more shit out that’s leaving me with questions.”
“So did I. Hit us up in the main area. Got some food coming, and I sent a text to Lucky.”
“A’ight.” Cory stretched, then climbed his naked ass out of the bed.
I shook my head, then walked out, chuckling to myself. The old Cory would have found a way to have some female in the bed with him. The new Cory was just a tired-ass negro, due to all the running around we’d gone through last night. I owed my bro some fun. I had to squeeze something in there.
After a few, we all sat around the kitchen table. Cory was now reading King’s journal, while Uncle Snap had his silver flask out now, and I was eating a mound of scrambled eggs and cooked meats.
“What’s your thought on these Knights? You ever run across them during your years with Mama?” I asked, waving my fork in the air.
“Outside of Lily, and those I first met through the Commission, can’t say that I have. . . .” Uncle Snap leaned in his chair, thinking back. “Wait now. Yes. When Mama turned dark, shit, we ran across a couple but didn’t thank nothing of it, ’cus they weren’t gunning for us and didn’t give off cues that they had any thang ta do with King’s murder.”
“How you come about seeing them?” Cory asked before I could.
“Let’s see. Saw a few after the summer of eighty-five. They were hangin’ around the Irish territory. After that, there were some in NYC, but that made sense because they were based here.” He paused, took a sip from the flask, then continued. “There were a few in ninety-five in Vegas. That was ’bout the time Mama began shifting her dealings and started changing up her identity with the Syndicate.”
“So that establishes a pattern, yeah? They’ve been watching in the cut,” I said quietly.
“Mmm-hmm. Mama always felt watched, always. She just doubled up her protection and kept the Syndicate as her backing. Me, I just made sure those eyes kept their distance. Killed a few but never checked for crests. Now I know I should have. Damn this life.”
“It’s not even your fault or hers.”
I studied my Uncle’s face. The drinking had him looking haggard. His usually smooth face had creases and lines now. His face had a gentle scowl, and his eyes were sad again. I was about to ask him about more of his thoughts, but the interruption of a knock on the door kept me silent.
Cory smoothly slid me the journal, and I left the kitchen to lock it away in my suitcase back in my room.
“Bring ya ass in here,” Uncle Snap called out as I walked back into the kitchen.
It was Lucky with his sister. I scratched the side of my jaw in hidden annoyance, not wanting to deal with her flirtations. Out of respect to Lucky, I was doing my best not to wreck the girl, and by wreck, I meant fucking with her emotions and breaking her ass down right when she thought she could get the gold. But that was the old me. The new me had already told her up front what it was, and in no way or form was I even tempted. She wasn’t my type.
“Breakfast on point?” Lucky moved to the island and grabbed a plate of food. The homie looked just as exhausted as we all felt, and just as haggard as Uncle Snap looked.
“Everything is all good. Cooked well too,” I answered.
When Giana grabbed some fruit from my plate and sat by me, watching me, my eye began to twitch. It was then that I forgot that I was sitting with my shirt off and not in a tank. Fuck my life.
“What questions did you have for me?” Lucky asked, giving his sister a look. He smoothly grabbed another plate of fruit and slapped it down in front of Giana, who laughed at her brother.
“Did Absolan have any family? Wife? Children? Side ho?” I paused and glanced at Giana. “Brother, sisters, or cousins?”
“Absolan has a little vice, one that he enjoys a couple of times a month,” Giana answered. Everyone at the table turned their attention to Giana, who had interrupted Lucky and prevented him from answering me.
I glanced at Cory, and he spoke up for me. “And what’s that vice?”
“He loves his libations, women, and sex,” Giana explained.
“Not surprising at all, and the drinking was a clear type of thing,” I said to her.
“No, it’s not, but it’s the sex that’s the thing. Absolan has a little thing for Korean sex slaves. Especially, ones who can tailor themselves to his Catholic guilt and need for power.” Giana gave a smile and popped a piece of pineapple in her mouth. “There’s a private club that caters to the priests of NYC who have particular vices.”
I sat back in thought. That was an interesting bit of information. “And could he have been taken from this place?”
Giana gave a slight shrug. “Possibly, or hiding, or anything.”
Lucky set his fork down. The brotha looked tense, so tense that he ran his hand over his face, then stared at his sister. “Why do you know this?”
“Mama isn’t as messed up as you think she is. I mean . . . she is . . . she does things that only she gets off on, for whatever reasons. But even so, she has our best interests at heart.”
“Is that so?” Lucky asked. There was unspoken communication going down between brother and sister.
Shit was as familiar to me as it was to breathe. Having a brother close in age, then later picking up several other siblings, would teach one how to pick up nonverbal cues.
“Don’t start, chooch. Please.” Giana glared at Lucky, then slapped her hand on the surface of the table. “Just everyone, get dressed. This spot, from what Mama says, is very retro, and if you’re not in the know, then you can’t get in.”
“Don’t call me a jackass,” Lucky grumbled.
“Well, ya actin’ like one,” Giana countered.
“Now, how are you going to get five black men and yourself in where, I’m pretty sure, melanin ain’t the right currency?” Uncle Snap asked.
Pushing up from the table, I looked at everyone. “It don’t even matter. If she can get us in, or close enough to watch the spot, then that’s what we need to do. Either this nigga was kidnapped or something else is up with his fingerprints all over it.”
“Everyone, put on your best. I’ll go make some calls to get our ins.” Giana smiled as if she had done something amazing. She winked at her brother, then walked out with a pep to her step.
“Dead ass . . . I swear to God, she’s problematic as fuck.” Lucky gave a sigh. “I’ll meet up with y’all when it’s time to leave. I need to check in on my pops.”
“Is he all good? Vitals doing better?” I asked, still standing with my hands in the pockets of my sweatpants.
“For now, yeah. The medicines they are pumping in him keep him drained and out of it, but he’s still fighting,” Lucky explained.
“Us old gangstas don’t fall down as quickly as others wish.” Uncle Snap slowly stood, then headed to his room. “I’ll put my best on.”
I solemnly shook my head, wishing Mama hadn’t fallen. “Check you on the flip side, Lucky. Tell the Old Italian that w
e got him and we are breaking this down as best as we can.”
There was a call to Shanelle I had to make, and I wanted to get back to her quickly.
“You know I will, and he knows it.” Lucky headed to the door. He paused to give Cory a handshake; then he walked out.
Lucky was walking on a familiar thin line. I knew it well because I had just healed from my own shit. The weight of our family’s past still weighed on his shoulders. Hopefully, what we would find would help push this plan of ours ahead.
Chapter 17
Cory
When Lucky’s sister said she had an “in,” she meant that shit. We stood outside of an old Gotham-style building. Standing before twin medieval-looking black doors, a hulking, chunky guy in all white and with a long ginger-colored beard watched us. The alleyway we stood in was moist from the freezing rain.
Our unmarked ride was parked in front of us as a shield, just in case some shit went off. We all stood in our best dressed. Behind me was a biracial member of the Forty Thieves named Alex. Dude was dark haired and could pass for white, so that was why he was here in the front, while we looked like his entourage.
Shit was working my nerves, but it was for a reason. The side of my face itched, so I scratched it. After I first was burned, I did get grafting done, but the shit was stressful, so I stopped. My face was scarred but not in a manner that disgusted anyone. It just gave me a unique look, which I didn’t mind, even though I knew it made me stand out.
“I think I’m going to get my face worked on,” I muttered to Von. I had added a prosthetic to disguise my looks.
“Why?”
While we waited on Lucky, Giana, and her “in,” I shrugged. “Makes it easy to ID me, if ever we get into some shit we can’t get out of.”
“It was hard on you, kuya. You sure?”
Von had on all black. He stood in a meek manner, like he was an everyday businessman, with a suitcase in front of him and glasses on. This was his cover. He was here to talk security financial protection.
My cover was also my former everyday work, the law. “Yeah, but I can handle it. Besides, you’ll put me up with nothing but the best, right?”
“You know I will.” Von gave me a quick nod.
I returned my focus to the hulking bouncer.
“We’re guests of Don St. John,” Alex told him calmly. He flipped out a laminated business card that was red and was emblazoned with a crest. It didn’t match the Knight’s crest by far.
The burly, ginger-bearded, bald bouncer gave us black folk the one up and down. “Don St. John is inside. Welcome to the Chain and Silk.”
He did a quick text on his cell, then conveniently ignored Alex and searched us darkies, as was written across his face. Muthfucka had the nerve to test me by fucking with my nuts. He did the same with Von as well.
“I’m pretty sure that I cannot hide a weapon against my ball sacs, friend. You should move on,” I said as properly and as calmly as I could.
Fat boy gave a sharp grunt; then, once he saw we weren’t strapping, he stepped his girthy ass to the side to allow us inside.
Smoke rolled into the street when the twin doors opened. I looked at my cell and saw Uncle Snap’s text.
Clocked in and working, nephew.
That was code that he was already inside. Giana had managed to get the OG in as a washer in the back kitchen. I quickly sent my own text.
Entering my meeting.
“Everything is accounted for,” I muttered to my brother, and he gave a nod of acknowledgment as we stepped inside.
Darkness filled the hallway, until splashes of red guided us up into the hidden club. Once inside the secured place, all I heard was old white music. Like Frank Sinatra, some jazz that didn’t have real soul. Red silk draped the walls. Old-ass paintings that put me in the mind-set of some PBS period show shit stared back at us as we walked through. I had expected to see women servers all over the place, but that wasn’t the case.
“Welcome Mr. Bernard and guests. Please follow me this way to Mr. St. John,” said an attendant.
There were separate booths where old white guys sat drinking and smoking cigars. A few of those tables had chains on them, with women of various races locked in them. These women looked up at us with no life in their eyes and fake, plastic smiles. They were virtually naked, except for the silk draping their crotches and over their breasts. On their arms were bangles, and they wore little things that made them look like naked nuns, such as cross chokers.
The servers in the place were men, and they were dressed like waiters from the sixties. My shoulders felt tense as I looked at this shit. We continued walking through the elaborate place. When we rounded a corner, more women appeared. Many were on pedestals, like statues. Others danced on tables in a slow, hypnotic manner. Water streamed by our feet against smooth, modern-painted walls. The water was lit, and as we walked down the hall, white light greeted us like a door.
When the attendant reached out, he laid his gloved hand against a panel of carved glass, then directed us outside. On some real shit, my mouth dropped open. Before us was nothing but greenery. We had stepped into a Roman/English garden, with columns included. This was where the rest of the silk-covered women and men were, the slaves. They all had chains and sat on their “masters’” laps or at their feet.
Familiar faces dallied around the luxurious greenery. They were familiar to me only because we always did our homework before visiting specific cities where we had business. There were a few doctors, lawyers, and other professional men, but the majority of the men who were here were men of the cloth.
Across from a huge water fountain sat Lucky, with Giana. Both were draped in luxury, especially Giana. Next to Giana, twirling his fingers through her hair, was her “in,” Don St. John, as he was called here. When in the streets, he was Armani Rossi, just one of Luciano and Giovanna’s old friends from the old world
Everywhere we moved, I made note of the exits. We walked over and sat in front of Armani. He stretched out a hand and grinned. “Have a drink, my friends. Thank you for heeding my call.”
He was playing the game well. That was my clue to send a message to Uncle Snap.
Seek.
After that, I stood and asked, “Where are your bathrooms?”
“Julie.” Armani snapped his fingers and a curvy pale chick with red hair that matched Armani’s came over to me. She wore nothing under her silk panel. I could see her bare slit, and the pink nipples under the silk swath of fabric did a piss-poor job of holding her tits up.
I gave a smile. “Thank you, Mr. St. John.”
“You’re welcome, my friend. Enjoy the fruits as well. Take this.” Armani held out a gold chain to me that was connected to the collar around Julie’s neck.
No lie, but the dynamic was fucking with my mental, but I played along and let her lead me to the bathrooms. Once we rounded the corners, I pulled on my “slave’s” chain.
“Stay here and say nothing, do you understand me?” I said.
“Yes, master,” was all she said as she slumped down to kneel like some sort of pet.
Shaking my head, I strolled into the bathroom, then walked right on out behind Julie’s back. I smoothly took note of the many faces that watched me. I nodded and took my time to become invisible to the onlookers. Once that happened, I found myself by the kitchen. I peeked in and didn’t see Uncle Snap, which was good. I then checked my cell and found a message with a location mark.
Crest on statue near draping tapestry. Statue is real. Going inside.
Uncle had pulled through. After that, I went back to gather Julie. She slinked up my body like a cat. I gave her a dissatisfied frown, and then I went back to the crew. By that time Von was done talking acquisitions and whatnot. I handed Julie off and smacked her tiny ass; then I took my seat.
“What a salacious establishment,” I said in my dorky proper tone.
Everyone gave a good chuckle; then I leaned toward Von and whispered everything to him. When he sl
id a note in the guise of a folder to Armani, Lucky glanced down, then walked off. The plan was for him to back up Uncle Snap, while we waited to follow. This freaky-ass jawn had a lot of secrets, and we planned to decode them.
Chapter 18
Shanelle
“Ms. Lily, you feel up to talking some more, or do you need to rest?” I asked once the old lady had hobbled back down the stairs.
She looked tired, but she smiled up at me once she made it down the stairs. “Listen now, I needs my rest so me and the girls can have playtime in the morrow. So ask me what’cha need, and then I wanna carry my tired ass home,” she fussed, but there was a twinkle in her eyes.
Jai laughed. “You are a trip, Ms. Lily.”
“You need me to get you anything?” Jojo asked her.
“A nice hot mug of whiskey may do me some good,” she said.
Monty shook his head. “Nighthawk’s father drinks his whiskey hot too.”
Ms. Lily smiled as she ambled over to her favorite chair. “He does like his fire water hot. He taught me the trick, the old bastard.” Ms. Lily studied Monty long and hard; then she tilted her head to the side. “You look like ya mama, ya know.”
Monty cocked his head to the side. He glanced at me before turning back to Ms. Lily. “My mama?”
Inez sat forward, and Navy stopped tinkering with some new e-cig gadget he and Jojo had been working on. Jai looked at me before turning to study Monty.
“Yeah. She was a hellcat, that one. I remember the day she and ya pappy had their first fight. Was right out in the middle of town, in front of King’s office. Y’all know where downtown Jonesboro is, down there by the old courthouse?”
We nodded as Jojo came from the kitchen and set a mug of steaming whiskey in front of Ms. Lily. She thanked him, and he nodded.
Monty moved closer to Ms. Lily. “You knew my mother?” he asked.
“Sho’ did.”
