The Family Business

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The Family Business Page 4

by Pete, Eric


  “Well, maybe if we had sex a little more often, we’d have another child.” I tried my best to sound encouraging, but there was a lot of frustration behind my words. “We could work on that tonight, when we get home, if you’d like.” I ran my index finger up the side of his thigh. “What do you think? Wanna make a baby?”

  Harris’s BlackBerry interrupted us before he could reply. I watched him slide it out of its holster and glance at it. Rather than answer it, he did something he rarely ever did: he hit the ignore button.

  “Don’t you need to take that call?” I asked.

  “Nah. We’re talking,” he said, but that didn’t make sense, because he always answered his phone. “Now, what were you saying about working on expanding our family?” He gave me this bullshit grin that just screamed guilty. The question was, guilty of what?

  “Honey, let me see your phone for a second, please?” I didn’t get indignant. In fact, I asked nicely, like the lady I was.

  “Huh?” He placed both hands on the steering wheel.

  “Don’t huh me, Harris. Now, can I please see your phone?” I calmly repeated to my suddenly deaf husband.

  There was a pause before he answered me. “London, please don’t start.”

  “Sweetheart,” I said coyly, “I’m not trying to start. I just want to see your phone.” I stuck out my left hand and waited.

  “Why?” he asked, now determined to pay more attention to the road than me.

  “Because I’m not stupid, Harris, that’s why. I think we both know I’m a highly educated woman. Now, may I please see your phone?” I moved my hand closer to him.

  “You’re barking up the wrong tree on this, London. That phone call was business.”

  “I’m sure it was. Now, why don’t you let me see your phone, and this will all be over.” I was trying to remain cool. My daughter was sleeping in the backseat, and the last thing I wanted was for her to wake up to her parents arguing.

  “No, it’s business. You’re not in the family business anymore, so there is no need for you to see it. Now, I think it’s time to change the subject, before I’m the one who gets mad.” He reached down and turned on the radio.

  Well, if he wasn’t going to give me his phone on his own accord, then I was going to have to take matters into my own hands. I reached for his holster where his phone was hooked, but before my hand got within six inches of his phone, his hand came out of nowhere and he slapped me in the face.

  I’d been hit harder, but this wasn’t a love tap, either, and my head went flying up against my window. I instinctively raised both hands to stop the next two blows.

  “Why are you always pushing me?” he shouted, both hands back on the wheel. “I told you it was a business call, but you always have to push me, don’t you, London?”

  I was massaging my cheek and lip where the first blow had landed. “Why’d you hit me? I didn’t deserve that.” Although I tried, I couldn’t hold back the tears.

  “Yes, you did. You need to learn your place and stop questioning me. You are not your mother, London, and I am not your father. I am not going to put up with your shit. How many times do I have to tell you that? Next time I’m not going to be so nice.”

  Orlando

  6

  I entered the two-bedroom condo I kept in Port Washington, out on Long Island, and tossed my coat over the back of a chair. This place was my sanctuary, my home away from home that no one in my family knew about. It was fully furnished from top to bottom with every gadget a man could desire: a water bed, a fully stocked bar and fridge, and a hot tub on the balcony, which overlooked Hempstead Harbor. I came here once or twice a week, when I needed to unwind and indulge in the only vice that truly gave me pleasure.

  “Maria,” I called out before plopping my six-foot-one frame down on the sofa. I picked up the remote control to turn on the TV.

  I knew she had already arrived when I spotted the open bottle of wine on the kitchen table. If I knew Maria, she was probably in my bedroom, preparing everything for tonight’s little party. I’d been dealing with Maria and her brother Remy for a little more than two years now because of their discreet business practices and the high quality of their merchandise. Very rarely had I been disappointed, and on the rare occasion that I was, Remy quickly made it up to me with something even better.

  “Hola, Orlando,” Maria replied from the direction of the bedroom.

  I turned toward the voice, and there stood Maria Lopez, a drop-dead gorgeous Dominican beauty with a long, flowing weave, a perfectly made-up face, and a surgically enhanced figure that would have put any Playboy model to shame. She was wearing a tight-fitting gold dress that cut off just below her perfectly round hips, and a pair of six-inch gold heels that accented her supermodel legs. I swear she looked like some kind of hyped-up mythological goddess who was put on this earth for one reason and one reason only—fucking.

  “Hey,” I replied as she walked over and gave me a gentle peck on the lips. Her lips were so soft and inviting that the thought entered my mind to slide my tongue in her mouth. Thank God I caught myself before I did it, because that would have cost me. To Maria, everything had a price, including something as simple as a French kiss, and she was way too expensive for my taste. A kiss like that probably would have cost me somewhere in the neighborhood of five hundred dollars. Don’t get me wrong; I was willing to pay to play, but not quite that much for a kiss. Besides, Maria and I had gone down that road once before, and it almost turned out to be a disaster.

  You see, Maria wasn’t my girlfriend, or even a woman I dated. She was a high-class call girl who, along with her brother Remy, ran a business called Rand S Fulfillment Services, LLC, one of the most exclusive escort services in the country. They specialized in discretion and had the unusual ability to fulfill almost any request or fetish their wealthy, high-profile clients desired. They were by far the best there was at what they did. If Tiger Woods and Governor Spitzer had been their clients, they would both still be married and on top of their game right now. Crazy-ass Remy would kill a bitch if she opened her mouth about one of his clients.

  “My brother tells me you have reason to celebrate,” she purred in her seductive Latin accent.

  “You could say that,” I answered proudly. “I was named president of the company today.”

  “Congrats. Now, that is something to celebrate. You should have requested a night with me. I would have made it a very memorable night, just like I did on your birthday, yes?” She gave me this look that made my manhood leap.

  There was no doubt about how good she was at her profession. Old girl had put it on me that night like no one I’d ever been with. She was the first woman in years who actually made me feel like we had some kind of connection between us; that is, until we were finished and she turned off the affection and reminded me that it was all business. That was when she asked me for payment and told me just how much our night of erotic bliss had cost me. Well, I refused to pay, which prompted her brother to show up at the dealership with a nine millimeter, looking for his money.

  “Yes, it was memorable, all right, and I’m sure you would show me the time of my life.” I shook my head to clear the erotic memories before they could tempt me to take her up on the offer. “But you’re a little too pricey for me. As good as the sex was, the one thing I remember most about my birthday was how much it cost. I should have asked the price before I went down that road. Nobody’s pussy is worth ten grand a night.”

  “I have a pretty long client list that would disagree.” She gave me a confident smile. “But, Orlando, you’re in the car business. You know what they say: when you go to buy a Rolls-Royce, if you have to ask how much it costs, then you couldn’t afford it in the first place.”

  I let out a chuckle. “Well, I guess you’re right about that. My older brother Vegas always used to say a man has to know his limitations. I guess when it comes to pussy, I’m just a BMW and Mercedes man, ’cause I got to know the price before I spend my money.”
r />   “And there is nothing in the world wrong with a BMW or Mercedes. They will both give you a damn good ride, but no matter how much you sugarcoat it, we both know they are not a Rolls-Royce.” She laughed and I joined in. “Don’t worry, though. I think I have just what you need. My girl Ruby is a Mercedes sports car if I’ve ever seen one.” She turned to the bedroom and called, “Ruby!”

  It took a few moments, but when Ruby finally walked out, I had to catch my breath. She was stunning. She didn’t have that commercial beauty like Maria. No, Ruby had natural beauty you could almost call wholesome. I had this thing for dark-skinned women, and her skin was the color of dark chocolate and smooth as a baby’s ass. Her hair was shoulder length but natural. I liked that a lot. There was something special about a black woman that wore her hair natural. That was sexy to me. Not to mention the fact that I loved to bury my hands in a woman’s hair while I was riding her from the back.

  “Ruby, this is Orlando. Orlando, I’d like you to meet Ruby. She’s just come to this country from the island of Jamaica.”

  Ruby had these huge dimples in each cheek that brightened her face as she smiled at me.

  “Nice to meet you, Ruby,” I said, giving her firm body the once-over.

  “The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Orlando,” she said softly in a strong Caribbean accent that almost melted me on the spot. Maria and Remy had outdone themselves this time. I had only a few requests when it came to the women I dealt with from their agency. Two were mandatory, and the other three were a wish list of sorts. Ruby had already satisfied number one on my wish list, because she was not American born. Their country of origin wasn’t important, and even race didn’t matter that much, as long as the women they brought me had some kind of accent. That was so damn sexy to me.

  Ruby turned to Maria and spoke to her as if I weren’t even in the room. “I did not expect him to be so handsome and fit.” Remy had told me once before that most of his clients were older, overweight white guys, so the girls appreciated the time spent with someone as youthful and in shape as I was.

  “Yes,” Maria said, “Orlando is quite handsome and very capable in the bedroom. I can assure you that there is no better man to cut your teeth on in this industry. Sometimes I think we should be paying him, but we must not forget this is business. Nonetheless, I’m sure he will make you scream like he did me. Just don’t expect to see him again, because he only sees each girl once.”

  I tried to contain it, but I was sure I was blushing. I mean, you couldn’t get a bigger compliment than to have a woman who charged ten grand for a roll in the hay say she should have paid you.

  “Sooo,” I said, changing the subject, “I’m starved. Ruby, what do you plan on making for dinner?”

  “I was going to whip up some jerk chicken, cabbage, and rice and peas. Do you like spicy foods?”

  I loved it when women cooked their native cuisine for me.

  “I love spicy foods. And for the record, I can’t wait to taste you. I hope you’re hot and spicy.” I licked my lips, and my eyes didn’t leave hers until I saw both her dimples twinkling back at me. I glanced at Maria and winked, letting her know that she had done a great job.

  “Well then,” Maria interrupted. “Why don’t I leave you two lovebirds alone? Ruby, the car service will be here to pick you up around seven-thirty tomorrow morning. That work for you, Orlando?”

  Both Ruby and I nodded, prompting Maria to walk to the door. “You two have fun. And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Ruby, enjoy it while you can, girl. He’s one of the special ones.”

  I watched Maria leave, then turned toward Ruby, who was now in the kitchen, searching for the cookware she needed. Neither of us said a word as I sat on the stool that faced the center island she was working on. She tried to be nonchalant and ignore me as she prepared the food, but I caught her sneaking a glimpse at me every few seconds.

  Finally, about five minutes later, her eyes shifted in my direction. “Is it true what she says?”

  “Is what true?”

  “That you only see the girls one time?” she asked.

  “Yes.” I nodded without going into detail. “Why? Do you plan on changing that?”

  One of my mandatory requirements was that Maria and Remy never bring me the same woman twice. I worked better when I didn’t have the distraction of a woman in my life. Don’t get me wrong; I loved women and I loved sex, but when I was in a relationship, I lived and breathed that relationship, and it usually took away from something else in my life—namely, my work. That was okay when Vegas was around, because he picked up the slack, but when he left two years ago, I made a conscious decision to step into his shoes. I cut off all the women I’d been seeing in order to concentrate on business. The problem was my dick didn’t agree and wanted no part of leaving women alone. Most women weren’t interested in skipping the romance and commitment for a roll in the hay—at least not unless they were getting paid, and that still didn’t guarantee I would be drama free.

  That was when I came up with idea of using escorts and found Remy and Maria’s service. For me, these nights of pleasure were like mini vacations from the world of LC Duncan and Duncan Motors; and well, nobody wants to go to the same place twice if they have the chance to see something new, right? Of course, some people would argue that there’s no place like home, but I hadn’t found anything that felt like home yet, and I wasn’t sure if I ever would.

  “Mr. Orlando, I must tell you, this is my first time doing anything like this for money. If you don’t want to see these other girls who are experienced, what chance do I have of making you happy? And Mr. Remy made it very clear that I am to do whatever it takes to make you happy. I’m so afraid I’m going to mess up.”

  “You’re not going to mess up,” I said, getting up from my stool and walking around to where she was. I placed my hands on her hips. “That’s why they brought you to me. I love first timers.” I lowered my head and my lips met hers in a polite peck that turned into a passionate kiss.

  I turned off the stove. The food could wait until later. It was time to sample the dessert.

  LC

  7

  I’d been pacing around the dealership for the better part of an hour, contemplating the future of our business and family. Despite her protests, I’d finally sent Chippy home after all the children had gone their separate ways. I wanted her to ride home with Harris and London, but she’d complained so much that I relented, letting her stick around another half hour as I went over paperwork. She needed her rest, though. She’d been suffering from a bad cold that didn’t seem to want to go away, and it wouldn’t get any better with her staying out in the street with me till all hours of the night. It wasn’t like we were twenty-five anymore.

  Besides, I needed time to think. I always thought best late at night, when I walked the showroom floor. No one but me could see it, but times were changing, perhaps for the worse, and it had nothing to do with me appointing Orlando to lead the family. What I was concerned about was the unknown competition I’d been hearing about through the grapevine, and the sudden tightening of shipments from our distributors. Someone was trying to muscle in on our territory and discredit us with our distributors. I couldn’t share what I had heard or felt with my family in front of Paris’s date, but it was important that we were all on the same page and that I flushed out our hidden enemy before the shit hit the fan.

  “You’re doing the right thing, LC. Retirement’s the only way you can make sure this family survives. You’ve got to make them think the family’s weak, while you work from behind the scenes, like Vegas used to,” I spoke aloud to myself.

  I chuckled. Listen to me. Heaven help me if I was turning into a paranoid old man. And heaven help everyone else if I was right and they came after my family or business, because paranoia and power are a dangerous combination.

  “You talking to yourself, Pop?”

  I looked up and saw Junior walking out of the service area. He was carrying a toolbox. “Yeah, son,
I guess I am. Why are you still here?”

  “I’m here because you’re here,” Junior replied calmly as he approached from across the darkened showroom floor. He began pacing the tiled floor around me, as if on guard for some unseen threat. Ever since he was little, Junior always thought he had to protect me. “Why didn’t you go home with Momma?”

  “I needed to think,” I replied, adjusting the brim of my hat. “The silence does me good.”

  I glanced at the dealer invoice on the passenger window of the 2006 Maybach, thinking back to how much I’d paid for my first used car. My younger self would’ve died on the spot ... or would’ve been thrown out from a place such as this. But time changes a lot of things. It makes some men wiser and others more foolish. I’d like to think I was one of the wiser ones.

  My hand was still on the car window. I removed it, noticing the fingerprints left behind. Again, my mind went back to that younger man, to a time when my fingerprints were recorded by the NYPD for cause. I swore I would never be locked up again, and thank God I’d delivered on that promise and many more on my way to this point. I had to admit, it wasn’t easy as a black man trying to make it in America, but I’d made it with Chippy’s help.

  “Sooo, any hard feelings that I didn’t pick you to run things? You are the eldest.” I was hoping he’d give me a truthful answer. Knowing where he stood would go a long way to helping me transition Orlando into leadership.

  He shook his head. “Nah. Orlando’s the smart one. He’s a lot like you and Vegas.”

  “You’re saying that as if you’re not smart. All my children are smart,” I said confidently.

  “You know what I mean, Pops. O plans for things. When something goes wrong, he has a backup plan. Me, I’m not a planning guy. I’m good with my hands. I know that, and I’m all right with it.” I nodded my understanding. “Like Vegas always said, a man has got to know his limitations. I know mine.”

 

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