by Pete, Eric
“That might be my fault,” I said, pulling away. “I got a little present for you.”
“A cell phone?” He could hardly contain his excitement. He went from being this big bear to acting like a little kid over the possibility of a cell phone.
I laughed. “No, bruh, it ain’t a cell phone. But I can make that happen. What I got is better than a cell phone.”
I walked over to the door and knocked a couple of times. The guard looked in at me. I nodded, he nodded back, and a few moments later the door opened.
“Well, I’ll be damned. I guess that is better than a cell phone,” Vegas said as he gave Maria, who stood in the doorway, the once-over.
“Mr. Johnson,” I said with a wink, “I leave you with Mrs. Johnson.”
“You did good, O. You did real good,” Vegas told me as I left.
As I sat in the back of the Town Car, waiting for Maria to finish her business inside the jail, I tried to get in touch with Rio. His phone went straight to voice mail, so I left a message for him to call me ASAP. That was not a good feeling, being unable to reach my brother, knowing he was alone and vulnerable. I prayed he was going to be okay until I could get someone out there to bring him home.
I heard a tap on the tinted window, and I looked up to see Maria standing outside. I unlocked the doors, and she climbed in.
“Mrs. Johnson, how was your conjugal visit?” I joked.
Always discreet about her business arrangements, Maria didn’t kiss and tell. She sat there quietly, looking down with an expectant look on her face. And I knew exactly what she was expecting.
I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope, which I handed to her. “That had to be the fastest twenty Gs you’ll ever make. I hope you left him with a smile on his face.”
Maria didn’t respond with words, but the look on her face said it all. She’d had a pretty good time, probably better than she’d expected—or at least faster. Sure, she did have to ride four hours upstate with me, but at least she didn’t have to do it on her back.
She was still looking down at the envelope, but her expression had changed.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “It’s all there. You can count it if you like.”
She opened the envelope and flipped through the money halfheartedly. “This is wrong.”
“No, it’s not. I counted it myself.”
“No, I don’t mean that.” She handed the envelope back to me. “I mean I can’t take this, Orlando.” She turned her body toward the door—as if turning away from the money—and stared out the window. “Remy’s gonna kill me.”
“I don’t understand,” I said.
“I don’t either.” She turned back to me. “Have you ever just felt this strong connection with somebody? You don’t know what it is or why. You just feel it.”
Instantly, Ruby entered my mind. “This might surprise you, Maria, but yeah, I have.”
“Well, that’s what I felt with your brother. So, you understand why I can’t take the money.” She gazed out the window as she spoke. “There’s just something about him. He’s not like any other man I’ve ever been with... anyone I’ve ever known.”
“Yeah, that’s my brother,” I said with a proud smile on my face. “Mr. Charming.”
She looked at me. “Then can I ask you something? A favor.”
I nodded.
“Would you mind if I saw your brother again? No charge. I’ll come see him every week. Bring him money, whatever it takes.”
“Are you serious?” For a minute I couldn’t imagine anybody being sprung like that, but once again, Ruby entered my mind.
“Dead serious,” Maria replied.
“Okay then, no, Maria, I don’t mind at all,” I said without hesitation. “But now I need your help.”
“Whatever you need,” she said.
“Can you set me up with Ruby? I tried going through Remy, but your brother is trippin’, talking about he can’t, all the while trying to pitch another girl at me. I don’t want another girl. I need... I want Ruby.”
A look of disappointment crossed her face. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. Remy can’t either. Ruby wasn’t cut out for the business. She was simply paying off her brother’s debt. With your help, she paid it off a lot quicker than any of us thought possible.” Maria shook her head. “What some people will do for family. But I don’t blame her. I’d do anything to keep my brother alive too.”
Rio came to my mind. “Yeah, me too.”
LC
36
“Just do it, Daddy,” Paris said as I held my .38 snub-nosed revolver to her head. “If I’m that much of a burden, just pull the damn trigger and get it over with.”
I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. My usually steady hand began to tremble as I stared in my little girl’s face. Taking a life, although necessary sometimes, was never as easy as it seemed; and this was my baby girl, not some thug I was trying to keep in line, which made it so much more difficult. Nonetheless, just as I helped bring her into this world, I was prepared to take her out—or so I’d thought before now. Why couldn’t she have just done as she was told?
“Pop!” I heard Junior shout from the other side of the room. “Pop, no!”
“You’ve really fucked things up, Paris,” I said.
I heard the sound of Junior’s footsteps as he rushed toward us. They stopped, though, when I commanded, “Junior, you fucking stay out of this!”
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t handle you the same way I would anyone who crossed me.” I pressed the barrel of the gun deeper into the flesh of my baby girl’s forehead. If she had just followed directions, I wouldn’t be standing here, struggling with the decision I had to make: kill my own flesh and blood, my favorite daughter, or let her live, which meant Rio would surely die. I was losing control not only of my business, but of my family as well.
“Because... you love me. And I’m still useful to you. Please.” Although she was pleading, it wasn’t out of fear. Not fear of death, at least. I remembered seeing this in her even as a small child. Paris had always been afraid of displeasing me. That child lived to win my approval, and it led her to be one of the best at what she did. “Give me another chance, Daddy. I won’t prove you wrong.”
Paris looked in my eyes, and I was transported back in time to the day she was born. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, and as the years passed, she just became more beautiful. How in the world could I take such beauty away? I paused, with my finger resting on the trigger and my hand trembling even more.
“Daddy?” she called out. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?” I asked with a voice somewhat weaker in tone. I eased up on the barrel just a little bit. I let her take a breath.
“Why what?” she asked with sincere puzzlement.
“Why did you have to make this so hard, Paris? You think I want to do this? Huh?”
She shook her head, blinking her eyes to dissipate a tear before it slipped free. Its presence seemed to anger her. I knew my baby girl. She didn’t like to cry unless it was planned. Crying equaled weakness, and she detested weakness, especially in herself.
“Pop, dammit, someone’s coming!” Junior called out.
I finally looked in his direction just as a dark sedan rolled into the warehouse and two men jumped out.
An ambush. Shit.
“FBI! Drop your weapons and put your hands up! Now!”
FBI. Double shit.
“How can I help you fine gentlemen?” I called out, quickly placing my revolver back under my jacket and trying to will my hands to stop shaking. If I’d given in to my anger and shot Paris, this scene would have been very different.
“You can help yourself to a jail cell, LC Duncan,” the one I would peg as the lead agent replied. His gun was pointed directly at me, and his partner’s was pointed at Junior. Clearly, they knew who was in charge. Of course, our men had their guns drawn on each of the Feds. “Now, tell your fuckin’ thugs to drop their weapons a
nd nobody has to get hurt. We’ve got a whole team on the way.”
“Fine, but let me see some badges first,” I yelled back. They were wearing FBI windbreakers, but that didn’t mean shit. They looked at one another, then moved their jackets aside to expose gold badges and IDs attached to clips. Thank God our weapons were legal and we’d already removed Alejandro’s men’s bodies. The blood on the walls, however, was going to take some explaining. For now, I preferred to think of it as a mere technicality for Harris to handle, nothing more.
“Good enough for you, old man?” the other one called out. “We really don’t want to do this the hard way, do we?”
Paris slowly rose to her feet, while I nodded for my men to obey the agents. They begrudgingly dropped their weapons. Squinting into the sunlight that was peeking through the warehouse skylights, Paris began ambling toward the agents in an unsteady manner.
“Paris, stay put, dammit,” I ordered under my breath. “I have this under control.”
That damn girl was ignoring me again. Now a part of me was wishing I’d shot her ass when I had the chance. She was going to make dealing with her that much easier when this was all said and done.
The agents yelled for her to stop but kept their guns trained on Junior and me.
“He... he was trying to kill me! You have to help!” she cried out, rushing toward the agents.
“Paris!” I yelled. Betraying me. My own flesh and blood. Shame on me for showing weakness and not doing what I should have. I couldn’t believe that of all my children, she was the one turning on me. As angry as I was, my heart was breaking.
“Miss! Move aside!” the two agents shouted in unison as Paris put herself between them and me, directly in the line of fire.
She was jumping around hysterically, screaming, “Please don’t let them kill me!”
“Ma’am, shut the hell up and move out of the way!” the lead agent growled, coming from behind the boxes that partially shielded him. His gun was no longer trained on me.
When he approached Paris to shove her aside, she tumbled forward, pulling a hidden Taurus .32 from under her skirt. She placed a single shot through the back of his skull, sending a fine red mist spraying out of the chasm that was once the front of his forehead. His partner hesitated, deciding now that Paris was more of an immediate threat than my men. By the time he’d trained his gun in Paris’s direction, his partner was falling over, deconstructed, face-first. When he squeezed off at her, she was no longer there.
Dropping to one knee, Paris leveled two quick shots, one missing, but the second catching the agent directly through the bottom of his jaw and exiting his skull at an odd angle. He collapsed, slumped over his car door, blood flowing down its dark painted surface before collecting in a dark puddle amid the dirt on the ground.
Paris walked over to both bodies, calmly examining them as we ran over.
“What the hell is wrong with you? It’s not bad enough that you’ve killed your last couple of boyfriends? Now you’ve resorted to killing Feds?” I yelled with more anger than I thought possible.
“Nope. I’d never be that stupid,” she responded with a wicked smirk so typical of her.
“What the hell are you talking about? First, you kill Miguel; then you kill not one, but two Feds, and now you stand here and say that you didn’t? Have you lost your motherfucking mind?”
“Daddy,” she said, still as calm as if we were discussing the weather. “Those aren’t Feds. Those are hit men. Look at their shoes and their guns.”
Junior and I both looked down at the bodies to see what she was talking about.
“Those are hard-bottom shoes, Daddy. What Fed do you know wears hard bottoms? And I don’t know any Feds issued TEC-nines as their service revolvers.”
I bent over and studied the guns. I’d be damned. That girl was right. They weren’t Feds. She had saved our lives and her own ... for now.
Orlando
37
“You okay, man?”
After about eight hours of calling, I finally reached Rio. I’d never been so happy to hear his voice, to know that he was alive and well. I’m not going to lie; I’d pretty much written him off when he didn’t answer the phone last night. I had a sick feeling in my gut every time his voice mail picked up—probably the same way Alejandro was feeling every time he asked to speak to Miguel and was denied. So, hearing my brother’s voice gave me some relief, though I wouldn’t truly be satisfied until he was back on the East Coast, safe and sound, eating my mom’s home cooking.
“I’m doin’ all right,” Rio replied in his typical laid-back, “everything’s good” tone. I wasn’t sure if everything was really okay or if it was for show, just so those sons of bitches couldn’t sense fear in him. He had to be scared. I knew I’d be scared if I was in his position, but at least I’d had some training. This type of shit was far from his usual job description.
“Have you seen Alejandro? Is he treating you all right?” I asked.
“Yeah, I seen the man, and his people ain’t treating me bad. At least not yet,” Rio answered. “I’ve had men treat me much better, though, if that’s what you’re asking.”
I chuckled, only because he was trying to make light of the situation—and I damn sure needed a light at the end of the tunnel.
“I hear you, man. So, what’s the weather like out there in Cali?” It might seem strange that I was making small talk at a time like this, but I was still trying to get a sense of what his situation was without asking him outright. I had no idea who was surrounding him as he spoke.
“Sunny skies, palm trees. Just like a postcard, bruh,” he replied. “Only the postcard’s written in blood—my blood.”
Okay, so now I knew he was alone and we could talk openly.
“Look, man, don’t talk like that. We’re gonna have you home in a flash.”
“I hope so,” Rio said. “To tell you the truth, Alejandro is getting a little antsy. He keeps making slick-ass comments out the side of his neck about my well-being.”
I tensed up. “Comments like what?”
“Never mind all that,” Rio replied. “Just tell Pop to let him speak to Miguel, for crying out loud. I’m sure that will calm his happy ass down some. I know he’s stubborn, but what’s a five-minute phone call just to make the playing field even?”
Fuck! I lowered my head. A phone call wasn’t asking too much—if only Miguel was alive to do any talking.
I didn’t have the heart to tell my baby bro that Miguel was dead, so I said, “I’ll see what I can do.” And I wasn’t lying, either. Not only was I going to see what I could do, but damn it, I was going to do it.
“Thanks, Orlando, man. I know you’ll come through for me. Pop didn’t choose you to be in charge for nothing.”
That one last vote of confidence nearly crushed me as the phone went dead. Now, if I was any kind of brother or leader of the family business, then I had to see to it that the phone line was the only thing that went dead.
“So, how is Rio?”
I turned to look up at Paris, who was standing next to me impatiently, waiting on word about her twin. Harris was sitting on the sofa across from us, and Junior stood behind him. I’d asked them to come in right after the old man left for the office. I thought it might be a good time to hear everyone’s honest opinions of our situation without Pop’s presence looming over them.
“Rio made it and he’s alive is all I can really say,” I replied.
“What do you mean, he made it? Where is Rio?” London asked as she strolled into the room. We all turned to Harris, because from her reaction, it was obvious he hadn’t told her a thing.
“Rio’s in California with Alejandro,” Harris said calmly, as if this were no big deal. “He was supposed to be a gesture of good faith while we held Miguel.”
London stopped in her tracks, and I watched the expression on her face quickly go from shock to anger. “How’s that working out for you now that Miguel’s dead?” She turned toward me. “Y’all gon
na get that boy killed. Does Momma know about this?”
“No, and no one is going to tell her anything until we get him home,” I warned.
The tension in the room was terrible. Everybody was on edge, and Paris was the first to let it get the best of her. She got up in Harris’s face and screamed, “You coulda talked Daddy out of this!”
Thankfully, Harris kept his emotions in check. “We’re not all as persuasive with him as you are, Paris.”
“This is not his fault, Paris. This could all have been avoided if someone we know hadn’t killed Miguel,” I said.
“What! You shot Miguel?” London glared at Paris, who looked like she was about to break down in tears. Then London turned to Harris and let him have it. “Another secret, huh, Harris? I’m getting sick of all this mystery lately. What the fuck is up with you not telling me things?”
Harris started to get up off the sofa, until London said, “Oh, really? You gonna show out in front of my family? I dare you.” He sat right back down.
“I wasn’t trying to worry you,” Harris offered weakly as an explanation. There was definitely some unspoken shit going on between these two, but now was not the time to address it.
“And what would you recommend?” I yelled, turning my attention back to Paris. “Just go bat-shit crazy and start blazing on them?”
“Maybe. I dunno,” she said, still smoldering. “But I’m not going to let him die.”
Junior pounded his fist on the table, silent until now. “Shit! Y‘all some fuckin’ kids! I got my boys out there on these streets, feelin’ heat, and we got no answers! Is this how it starts? The end? Everything we worked so hard for? Damn.”
“We might not be alone in this situation,” Harris noted, using his most lawyerly tone. As usual, he’d calculated things and waited for the right time to offer his input.
“We’re listening,” I said, moving around Paris to better address my brother-in-law. “Spit it out.”
