by Pete, Eric
“Certainly not you. Now, shut your fuckin’ mouth!” I yelled, still trying to process the fact that I was going to be a father while everything else was in jeopardy. The last thing I needed was Sihad’s played-out act.
Sihad came at me, all common sense gone. Junior went to make a move, but the look I gave him held him in place. Two more steps closer and I coldcocked Sihad with the nine millimeter I had begun carrying everywhere for protection. Sometimes a direct statement was needed with insubordinate employees. Sihad added to the blood on the floor of the warehouse with his own, the fresh gash on his forehead spewing a fine mist.
“You’s a weak-ass bitch, yo!” Sihad cried out from the floor, where he held his bleeding face. As I raised the gun to strike him again, Junior kicked him, eliciting a yelp from Sihad, like a wounded dog being punished by his owner.
“You lucky my pop likes you, or I’d put a bullet in your head!” I yelled.
“We lost Pablo, now Lou. Control yourself before you join them,” my brother warned, towering over our mouthy lieutenant.
Then things got even worse as three new visitors entered the garage. It was unsafe for him to be here, but LC walked in anyway, with two bodyguards shielding him. The bodyguards refused to put their guns away until absolutely certain there were no threats around.
“What the hell is going on here?” LC asked, noticing that Junior was pulling Sihad up off the floor.
The shop fell silent. We were all too embarrassed that things had devolved to this point, that we had let down our leader. We solemnly moved aside as Pop took slow, deliberate steps toward his brother’s body.
He knelt down and placed his hand on Lou’s heart. The little brother who had come up in the game beside Pop was now lying motionless in front of him. In a low voice, Pop spoke somber words of parting. It was a sentimental side of our father rarely witnessed by any of us.
“Who did this?” Pop finally asked, still on a knee. He kept his head down, depriving anyone of the opportunity to see the pain that had to be etched on his face.
“We don’t know,” I said, embarrassed to have been saying that way too often these days.
“Oh, I think I do. Dash was right,” Pop said, his voice cracking under the strain. The sound of it had me fearful of what was to come. “No more. No more Mr. Nice Guy,” he chanted, his words sounding like drumbeats to a war slowly building.
As Junior tried to console Pop and convince him to go back home, I stepped away to place a call.
“Yo.”
“Where are you?” I asked Paris.
“On the ground. Palm trees, sunshine, and movie stars. Oh, Crips and Bloods too. La-di-da.”
“You got him yet?” I followed up, cutting through the fluff.
“No, but I’m on his trail as we speak,” she answered. I heard car noise in the background.
“Hurry. Uncle Lou’s dead and Pop’s about to go scorched earth. If you don’t get him soon, Rio’s gonna be collateral damage.”
Harris
42
“I want you to reach out to the Italians again,” LC said after summoning me to his office at the dealership.
“Me?” I asked, incredulous. “I’m just—”
“Part of this family,” LC said swiftly. It took a moment for his words to sink in and for me to understand that he was saying I was part of this family, not theirs. With everything that had been happening, it was normal for a little paranoia to be creeping in, wasn’t it?
LC continued, “And they think they have some kind of connection with you, so let’s use it. Thank them for reaching out.”
“Okay,” I said, trying not to sound hesitant. The last thing I wanted to do was spend more time in the company of Sal Dash and his Mob associates.
“There’s more,” my father-in-law said, motioning for me to make sure his office door was closed firmly and that no one was eavesdropping. I should have known that wasn’t all he wanted of me. There was always more when it came to LC and his orders. “We’re about to move on Alejandro’s organization through our California affiliates.”
“Really? I mean... at a time like this? A war on both coasts? If this spills out onto the streets and the general public gets wind of this, it will be disastrous. We’re talking about everything you’ve worked so hard to build going up in flames,” I argued, doing my best to make him see the downside of this course of action without pissing the man off.
“You think it’s still about my shipment, Harris? It’s not. Lou’s dead. They killed my brother. Took him out in a drive-by. And they almost got Junior. Now they’re going to kill Rio—if they haven’t already. We’re already beyond disaster, boy.”
“Are you sure it’s the Mexicans? Alejandro and them?” I asked, needing to hear it.
“Yes. What Dash was saying makes sense, as much as I hate to admit it. If I’d had that info earlier, I would’ve never sent Rio to L.A.”
I had never seen LC second-guess a decision before, but I had a sense that was what was going on as he dropped his head and went silent for a second.
When he looked up again, he said, “The Mexicans have been playing us for fools all along, while slowly working the edges of our organization. Pablo probably had some deal with them that ended when he got cold feet or outlived his usefulness.”
If they were killing lieutenants, and if Pablo’s killing was tied in, then LC’s dream of getting away to Florida with my mother-in-law was now a pipe dream. This was going to take his life in years, if not through bullets.
“Do you trust Dash?” he asked me.
I hesitated, unsure what he was implying. How much could you trust a Mafia boss, especially considering the history of competition between his camp and ours? Especially when you had the history of him and me.
LC must have read my puzzled expression. He said, “You’re a lawyer. You saw the man up close. Do you think he’s a liar?”
“Yes,” I replied without hesitation this time. “But that doesn’t mean he was lying about what he said.”
“Hmm. I agree,” LC said, then went briefly silent again, deep thoughts consuming him. “I want you to assure Dash that any aggression that might spill over near their interests or within their boundaries is purely unintentional. Tell him we are looking to do business with the Italians and welcome him and his people as allies.”
“Got it,” I said as I prepared to leave. More contact was not something I wanted when it came to Dash, especially after I’d been promised absolution from my father’s debt back in Maryland. Out of sight, out of mind was how I wanted to be with Dash, but this whole mess wasn’t going to allow me that comfort.
“And another thing,” LC added as he tapped a pencil like a drumstick on his desk calendar.
“Yes?” I asked, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Whatever’s wrong with you and my daughter, I want you to fix it. It’s not good for my granddaughter. Nor my trust factor.”
I considered some methodical response. Maybe some laid-out, scholarly argument. Instead, after a long pause, I surrendered a simple, “Yes, sir.”
London
43
“I’m sorry about canceling the other day,” Tony said, holding me tightly. “And glad I got to make it up to you.”
“I’m risking a lot by coming here,” I remarked as I placed several kisses across his muscular chest.
He lifted my face so he could look in my eyes. “Why? Your husband suspects?”
“No. He’s too busy with his head up my father’s ass to notice. That and the bitch he’s fucking keep his mind totally off me.” I felt pitiful admitting that to him, but as usual, Tony did what he could to lift my spirits.
He joked, “Lucky for me, I guess.”
Unfortunately, I was too preoccupied to relax. When I didn’t respond to his gentle kiss, he asked, “What’s wrong, baby?”
“Family. Things are a little crazy at home—besides my marriage. Security concerns. I’m pissing a lot of folks off by ditching my detail to mee
t with you.”
“Whoa. Security detail?” He leaned on one elbow and looked down at me. “A rich girl, eh? I figured that with that expensive Mercedes of yours and the nice clothes you wear, but rich, like security-detail rich, I had no idea.”
“Don’t judge me.” I sighed and turned my head away from his inquiring eyes. “I would trade it all in for a nice, quiet life away from it all. Once upon a time, I thought I’d get that.”
“Maybe you still can. With me,” he said, and I felt him beginning to harden again under the sheets as he rubbed his legs against mine.
“Look,” I said, “that’s sweet of you to say, but I have no illusions about what this is between us.”
“I understand. Me neither.” He began to stroke my hair. “The last thing I want to do is cause more problems for you and your family. So, if this ever becomes too much for you to handle, just let me know. I’ll back off. I promise.”
I turned to give him a kiss. “Don’t worry. I don’t plan on asking you to go anywhere. You’re the only real break I get these days.”
Mercifully, he changed the subject. “Speaking of family, how’s that sweet girl of yours?”
“Mariah’s doing fine. She’s at school right now. She still talks about you since that day, you know.”
“I was just glad I was able to render assistance, m’lady,” Tony commented in jest.
“What time is it, anyway?” I asked. “I don’t want to be late picking her up.”
“It’s early still,” he said, putting a hand on my shoulder to send a subtle signal that he wanted me to stay put in the bed with him. “I’ll make sure you get there on time. What school is she at?”
“Ralston Academy.”
“Yeah,” he said, “I’ve heard of it. I think my sister was looking into that place for her kids.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Really?” Ralston was a historically black institution.
“Yeah. What’s so funny about that?” Tony asked, looking genuinely confused.
Shit. I had no intention of getting into another discussion of race, like the one we’d had about hair on our first date. And I had the perfect way to change the subject.
“Oh, nothing,” I said as I took Tony’s penis in my hand and stroked him.
“Mmmm,” he moaned with a grin, sinking into the mattress as he relaxed.
I slid beneath the sheets and took him in my mouth. Cradling his sac in my hands, I was slurping mightily, and from the sounds of appreciation above, I knew I was doing my job right.
I heard Tony’s phone vibrate and felt his body twist and shift on the mattress as he reached out to retrieve it. I kept sliding my wet mouth up and down his shaft, daring him to try to hold a conversation while I sucked him.
“Hello?” He tried to move to exit the bed, but I purposely let him feel the slight grazing of my teeth on the tip of his dick—my way of telling him to stay put. I gripped the sides of his hips and went at it with no hands. I bobbed my head as I sucked his dick even harder, playfully trying to fuck with his concentration.
“Thanks. We appreciate that. Um ... when? Uh-huh. Uh-huh. No ... I’m fine. I’ll check with my boss and let you know about his availability.”
“What’s her name?” I asked, poking my head out of the sheets as he ended the conversation.
“No, it’s not another woman. Just business. One of the prospective stores we’ve been courting for expansion wants to meet with my boss again. I think we’ve come to an understanding.”
“So it’s good news?”
“Yeah. No ... fuck yeah,” he said, correcting himself with a big grin similar to some of the joy I’d brought to his face before. “Our plans are really coming together.”
“Then why did you sound like you wanted to get off the phone?”
“Uh, because you were sucking my dick. Some things are a little more pressing—and a lot more satisfying,” Tony said just prior to flipping me over and penetrating me again with that wonderful dick of his.
And for an hour longer, I was free of the violent specter of death hovering over our family.
A part of me wanted to check Tony’s phone later, to view the number and see if he was lying to me, as Harris had done repeatedly. But then I realized it didn’t matter. Like I said, I had no illusions about this particular relationship. Worrying about the fidelity of one man was enough for me. I would keep this fling simple: no questions asked and no worries. Just what I needed.
Rio
44
“Oh my, they do look pretty scary, don’t they?” As hot as he was, I’d just determined that Martino was a damn punk. He looked terrified by my two Mexican friends. “You sure they’re after you?”
“Do those motherfuckers look like they belong in a gay bar?” Martino replied. “Of course they’re after me. They work for the guy I’m spying on. That son of a bitch I got on the inside must have ratted me out.”
As scared as he was, I wasn’t about to alleviate his terror and tell him that Alejandro’s men were really after me. He was a gift from heaven that had suddenly fallen into my lap, and he could quite possibly get me home and back into LC’s good graces without even breaking a fingernail.
“Christ Almighty,” he said in a voice made breathless with fear. “They’re gonna kill me.”
“Not if I can help it. I haven’t even had any of that tasty dick yet.” I stood up from my bar stool. “C’mon, I’ll get you outta here.” I pulled Martino along. Usually, I relished being the center of attention, but at a time like this, I wished my hair weren’t dyed quite so blond. It made me too easy to spot in here.
I faked a sudden move to my right, somewhat shielding Martino in an effort to play along with his notion. Both of Alejandro’s men bit on my action, waking from their dazed stupor and flinching to attention. They were trained too well, neither one overcommitting as they maintained their spacing to keep me pinned in their sights.
Rather than waiting for me to make another move, Martino panicked and darted out from behind me, heading toward the back of the club. With his distraction, they pivoted toward the potential new threat to them. When this happened, the one to my left suddenly fell over, clutching his chest. His surprised partner reacted to the unseen threat the only way he knew how, by whipping out his gun. This sent the whole club into a panic and stampeding for the front door. I now had a wave of bodies momentarily between me and Alejandro’s remaining man.
I ran out the back door a few seconds behind Martino. I found him scrambling down the alley, and I screamed for him to wait the fuck up. When he saw it was me, he gladly halted for a moment to catch his breath.
“What happened back there? I thought you were right behind me.” He stood panting, hunched over with his hands on his knees.
“I ... I held them off. Got the drop on one of ’em,” I said, sucking wind and lying my ass off. I didn’t know what happened to the one that keeled over, but I wasn’t complaining. “But the other one is still coming.”
“Thank you.” He stood erect and loosened his collar. “If they found me, then that means everything’s blown up. I gotta get back to my hotel, grab my shit, and get back to New York.”
“Well, they’ve seen me helping you, so I’m leaving if you’re leaving!” I said, doing my best damsel in distress for his benefit. All that was missing was for me to bat some false eyelashes.
“C’mon,” he said.
When we turned to resume our escape, two shots landed near us. I yelped, feeling flakes of brick separate from the wall and ricochet across my cheek, leaving bloody scratches on my pretty face. It was the other one of Alejandro’s men, storming down the alley in pursuit. He was still aiming at us, and I was sure he did not intend to miss again.
“Run!” I yelled.
There was another shot, and then Martino grunted in pain. I looked behind me to see that he’d been shot in the lower back. He reached out his arm toward me.
“Go... let’s go. I’ll be all right,” he urged, grimacing in pain.
We ran as fast as we could toward the end of the alley, quickly cutting across a parking lot and then into a neighborhood bustling with pedestrian traffic. I hoped we could get lost, at least temporarily, in the crowd. We dipped into another alleyway so Martino could catch his breath.
“Do you have a gun?” I asked, figuring it was somewhere on him based on his job description.
“No. Stupid on my part,” Martino replied as he reached toward his back to check how bad it was. “It’s back at the room. No one knew I was going to be here. I didn’t think I’d need it. Just trying to enjoy a little downtime, like I said.”
His trembling hand came out with a good bit of blood from his wound.
“We need to get off the streets. Is your hotel nearby?” I had to get this guy to a safe place and get him talking before he passed out from blood loss.
He told me where his hotel was, and we scurried across the intersection, hustling past a hamburger joint and a dry cleaner. I kept looking over my shoulder, and so far, it looked like Alejandro’s man hadn’t spotted us. All the couples out strolling on this warm night had provided cover.
As we passed the high-end boutiques, I did my best to act as if we were drunk lovers window-shopping. I pretended I was hugging him, when I was really just trying to bear the big lug’s weight. By the time we’d reached Melrose Avenue, fear of dying in a hail of bullets had gripped me in near paralysis, yet I pressed on. I had no choice. If our reduced speed didn’t allow Alejandro’s man to catch up, the trail of blood drops running down Martino’s leg might.
My brothers and sisters were better at this sort of thing. Me? I just went haphazardly along tonight, trying to outthink a professional killer while not giving in to the panic ripping my gut apart. As we crossed Melrose, I decided to take a wild right on Rangely Avenue. We used the tree-lined residential street to give us some cover, hoping every car, tree, bush, and shrub would afford us some protection if he was still following.
