by Carl Weber
“I love you too, Manny. I just love my job even more.” I took two silenced shots, one to his head and the other to his chest. His body fell back on the bed, and I approached, checking his pulse to confirm that the job had been completed. His eyes were still open, and he looked like he was staring up at me. I closed them, the last time I would ever touch Manny’s body. Damn, I was going to miss him.
Shit, if these people I worked for kept making me kill such good lovers, I wasn’t going to find anywhere in the country to get laid.
Junior
23
Anger coursed through every vein in my body as we approached J. Foster Phillips funeral home off Linden Boulevard. Phillips had remained an anchor in the black community for over seventy-five years, serving both the most affluent and the poorest Queens residents. We’d gathered there last year to bury my Uncle Lou after the Dashes had him killed, and as much as that pained us, at least he’d lived a full life. He’d gotten married, raised a child, opened a business, and done the things one hoped to accomplish in a lifetime. In contrast, this day made no sense. This was my brother—my friend—and he wasn’t even thirty-five.
We turned into Phillips’ driveway, and I glanced out the rear window to see the other cars following. I watched Pop get out of the car then I helped Mom out, holding onto her hand as much for my comfort as her own. Harris, London, Rio, and Paris piled out of their cars. No one uttered a single word. Normally, something as personal as this would have remained family only, but quite a few of our trusted employees were in attendance too. I only wished my girl Sonya could have been there, but with Señor Rodriguez in attendance, Pop didn’t think it was wise.
Sonya had been a godsend the night I got the news. For a while there I thought I was going to lose it, but she helped me hold it together. Orlando would have been happy for his big brother to finally have someone as warm and caring as Sonya.
A gentleman exited the funeral home, leading us into the building and to a private room. Señor Rodriguez and his son Carlos had already arrived from Los Angeles. They were standing next to the temporary casket. Juan approached us when we entered.
“Lavernius, I am so sorry for your loss,” he said. He motioned toward the casket then offered Pop his hand. “He was a good son, yes?”
“Yes, Juan, he was,” Pop replied, shaking his hand. “I hope you know we appreciate everything you’ve done to get him back to us.”
Señor Rodriguez nodded then turned to my mother with open arms. “Charlotte, my dear, you have my deepest sympathy.”
My mother fell into his arms, her face full of tears. “Thank you, Juan.”
He nodded to the rest of the family, then pulled Paris and me aside. I shook his hand. He had always been a loyal friend to our family, someone we knew could be trusted. He leaned in so that Paris and I could hear his words.
“I understand you two are the soldiers of the family, so I just wanted you to know Alejandro will be taken care of very soon. You have my word,” he assured us.
“Mr. Duncan, would you like to see the body before we prepare your son?” the funeral director asked.
“No,” Pop replied. “We’ll wait until—”
“Yes,” Mom cut in.
Pop turned to her. “Chippy, I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. We don’t know where they—”
Once again Mom cut him off. “I want to see my son, LC.”
Pop sighed then turned to the funeral director and nodded.
The funeral director stepped over to the casket, and the rest of us gathered around. Paris and London had already begun to weep. Loud sobs rose from Rio as he stared at the casket. The funeral director lifted the upper half of the casket, where a sheet covered Orlando’s face. He raised the sheet off, and a collective gasp swept through the room. Everybody began speaking in excited voices all at once. I turned to Mom, whose mouth had dropped open, horrified. She couldn’t speak either.
“What the hell?” Paris yelled out.
“That’s—” London threw her hands over her mouth in shock.
“Holy shit!” Rio screamed.
“Nooooo!” Mom finally shouted, her hands shaking. She buried her head in Rio’s chest.
Pop and I turned to Rodriquez, furious.
“Juan! That’s not my son!” Pop bellowed.
“I can see that, LC. I am sorry, but this is the body they gave me.” Rodriquez had turned white as the sheet that was once covering the body as he desperately tried to explain his way out of this. “They were specifically told to send your son’s body.”
“Well, that sure as hell ain’t my brother,” I made very clear.
“Sir, that’s not him.” Harris spoke calmly, attempting to stem the growing tide of hysteria.
“It would appear Alejandro is playing some type of game. Either he is aware of the future we plan for him, or he has become stupid in his old age,” Juan offered as an explanation.
“This is my nephew Trent,” Pop said, “and I really am pleased to have him back. But where the hell is my son’s body?” Pop’s voice shattered through the chatter in the room, the veins in his neck throbbing and pulsing.
Rodriquez got on his phone. “This is Señor Rodriguez. I would like to speak to Alejandro.” He listened for a few seconds then said, “Well, find him and give him this message: I don’t know what kind of game he’s playing out there, but I am not the man to play them with. This is not Orlando Duncan’s body. I told you I wanted his body. This body is not it! So find it, or there will be repercussions.” He listened to the reply, then released a volley of curses in Spanish before he hung up.
I looked at my mother, who was staring at Pop. Her look said it all. She looked ready to commit her first murder.
“Juan, we’ve been friends a long time. I know you’re trying to avert a war,” Pop said, “but I’m running out of patience. Find my son’s body or I’ll send my people to L.A. and we’ll find it ourselves.” On that note, he turned and walked toward the exit and the rest of us followed. I took one last look back at my cousin Trent as the shocked funeral director closed the casket. Harris would have to come back later to finalize arrangements for Trent.
“Daddy, maybe he’s not dead. Maybe we can still rescue him,” Paris reasoned.
“No, baby girl, the chances of that are pretty slim. If Trent’s dead, it’s a pretty good bet Orlando’s gone too.” Pop lowered his head sadly. “I just wish I knew exactly what happened.”
Orlando
24
(Four days earlier, five minutes after Orlando’s phone call with Ruby)
I still couldn’t believe Trent had gone into the meeting without me. That fool was so anxious to get the meeting over with and get to the girls that he couldn’t give me five minutes to finish my call with Ruby. Not only that, but he’d made me look like an idiot in front of Alejandro because now I was the one walking in late. After being frisked by a sizable bodyguard, I hurried into Alejandro’s house.
“Is the meeting this way?” I asked the second bodyguard, who left his post and guided me through the large entryway, down a corridor, and into a spacious home office that was the size of our living room. All eyes turned to me as I entered the room, but no one looked angry. I was thankful that Trent, who was sitting directly across from Alejandro, hadn’t fucked everything up yet. Now all I could hope for was that Alejandro wouldn’t feel too disrespected by my tardiness.
“Nothing to worry about, gentlemen.” Trent swept his arm in my direction, calling me over. “This is the great man who invented H.E.A.T., my lead chemist, Trent.”
Lead chemist? Trent? What the fuck was he talking about?
“That’s very nice, Orlando, but you haven’t answered my question,” Alejandro said respectfully. “Where is your father? Where is LC Duncan? I expected him to be here.”
My heart sank when I realized that Trent wasn’t simply pretending to be in charge; he was pretending to be me. I wanted to say something to assert my position as the head of the Duncan family, b
ut I couldn’t risk it. The last thing I needed at this point was for Alejandro to think Trent and I were playing games with him. Dammit! This meeting was too important to mess up. I just hoped to hell Trent knew what he was doing, because it was too late to stop him. I was, however, going to kill him when we got out of this.
“Like I explained to you before, Señor Zuniga, my father won’t be attending this meeting because he is semi retired. He is no longer running our day to day business,” Trent replied smoothly. “I am.”
“I understand, but with a meeting of this magnitude, I expected to see LC. You do understand that he and I have unfinished business?”
Trent nodded deferentially. “Yes, I do, and I hope that once you listen to our proposal and hear our terms, you and he can speak on the phone and work out that unfinished business. It is our belief that what we have to offer you is a game changer.”
Alejandro glanced at the men situated to his right and left then nodded. “We will listen.”
I took a seat next to my cousin as I watched, listened, and prayed. Funny thing was, he was actually doing a pretty good job. I had to stop myself from looking too damn impressed by the smooth way he laid it out for them. It was kind of interesting to be able to sit back and observe for a change, rather than having to be doing all the talking. I checked the reactions of the men; they were clearly riveted, especially when he pushed the briefcase across the desk, letting them know that we were giving them a million dollars’ worth of H.E.A.T. for free.
“Gentlemen, it is our belief that with your distribution network in the western and southwestern United States, you will at least double your profits for 2013.”
Alejandro put his hand on top of the case. “Very impressive presentation, Orlando. I am sure your father is very proud of you.” He smiled at Trent like they were kindred spirits.
Trent straightened his tie, giving me a quick glance, then spoke to Alejandro. “I hope so, sir. I try to make him proud every day, so I hope he’s proud.”
“He has to be with a son like you. I am truly happy for LC,” he said, but as he said the words, his smile faded and his tone became harsh. “Unfortunately, we still have a problem that prohibits me from doing business with you.”
Trent leaned forward, “What exactly is the problem? Maybe I can solve it. Put your mind at ease. If we double the amount of H.E.A.T. we’ve given you, maybe that will help smooth things out.”
“That’s a very nice gesture, but that won’t solve my problem with your family.” Alejandro turned to his flunkies and smirked before leaning in close to Trent, who didn’t even break a sweat. Trent had some balls. “Mainly because my problem is rather personal. You see, my fucking son is dead!” Alejandro slammed his fist down on the table between them, his booming voice damn near shaking the room.
The men seated around the desk reacted, but Trent didn’t even flinch. His years of being a con man came in handy. He fixed Alejandro with an expression of deep sincerity.
“I know your son is dead, and I’m sorry about that. Both me and my family send our deepest sympathy and understanding.”
“So where is your father then? Why isn’t he here to say he is sorry for my son’s death? This is a slap in my face! Has the great LC Duncan turned pussy? Is he afraid?” Alejandro yelled.
Instinctively, I jumped up out of my seat and started to speak. There was no way I was going to sit there and allow that motherfucker to attack my father. “Hey, wait a minute. My—”
Alejandro cut me off. “You are a minion. How dare you even speak? Sit down and let the men talk.” He pointed his finger at me, and I wanted to snatch it off.
I felt Trent’s hand on my shoulder, and he motioned for me to sit down, but this shit was getting out of hand. I shot him a serious “what the fuck” look, but I took my seat.
Trent turned back to Alejandro. “I came here in good faith, representing my family, hoping not only to resolve our differences, but to share a great opportunity with you and your colleagues. I brought you a gift that will make you at least one million dollars in a very short time. Now, I am sorry about your son, but there is nothing anyone can do about that now.” Trent was taking control of the room. I was proud of the way he’d defended his position, reminding them that this was a business opportunity. The one thing we all had in common was the desire to make money.
“I will admit, young man, that you have impressed me and earned my respect.” Alejandro sat back in his chair calmly, and everyone seemed to relax. “But you are wrong. There is something I can do about my son’s death.” He then turned to the man seated to his right, who stood. “This is my nephew, Manny Calderon. He is my sister’s son, and like you with yours, he would like to be in charge of our family business.”
Trent nodded respectfully at Manny. “I look forward to working with you.”
Alejandro answered, “Unfortunately, I do not see that in your future, because in order for Manny to be elevated and me to go into semi retirement like your father, he has to kill you.”
Manny whipped out a gun and held it waist high.
“Whoa! What’s with the gun? There’s no need for that.” Trent raised his hands and spoke rapidly, a slight shaking in his voice. “Look, we all need to calm down. There’s no need for hostilities. We can work this out.”
“Orlando, I lost a son, and now LC will lose a son,” he stated flatly. “I’m sorry your father wasn’t man enough to come here himself.”
Trent glanced my way, looking for help, and I saw the terror in his eyes. I was sitting there completely paralyzed. I wanted to shout, “That’s not LC’s son. I am!” But before I could react, Manny raised his gun and shot Trent in the head. I watched my cousin’s head fly backward and then his body slumped over in his chair.
“Noooooo!” I heard myself scream, but it was as if the sound came from somewhere else. My body and my brain were disengaged from each other. I couldn’t move. That bullet was meant for you, I told myself. Trent just took a bullet for you. Aren’t you going to do something?
Finally I got it together and jumped out of my seat to attack that son of a bitch Manny. Before I could take a step, though, his gun was in my face. I halted, calculating whether I could take him down before he got off another shot.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said, “but trust me. I do this for a living. One step closer and you join him.” Manny gestured in Trent’s direction.
“Give me your phone,” Alejandro barked.
On autopilot, I handed over my cell phone. Manny ordered me back into a chair with his gun aimed at my head, so I sat down without any further attempts to make a move. Alejandro scrolled through my phone list and then turned it toward me when he found what he was looking for.
“Is this LC’s number?” he demanded. I saw my father’s two initials and nodded. He hit the call button, and I had to stand there and listen while he told my father that I was dead.
From where I sat I could hear Pop yelling, but Alejandro paid him no mind. “Orlando is dead, LC. You can now consider us even.”
Alejandro threw the phone down on the floor and smashed it into pieces under his foot. He then turned toward the door, where the two men who frisked us were standing.
“Did you take care of the bodyguards?” he asked them.
“Sí,” they said in unison. “They are both dead.”
“Good. Clean this place up and put the guards on alert.” I could hear them approaching me from behind. “Kill this one too.” He waved his hand, dismissing me as if I were the leftover garbage he’d forgotten to take out.
Manny pointed his gun at my temple with an amused look on his face. “Would you like to beg for your life? Most people do. I find it amusing,”
“No,” I said through gritted teeth. “But I promise I’ll see you in hell.”
“Most likely.” He laughed. “Keep the place warm for me, will you?”
I sat up in my chair, staring at Trent’s lifeless body as I prepared to take my last breath. I had only one r
eal regret, and that was that I never had a chance to hold my son in my arms. I closed my eyes, praying that Ruby would tell him good things about me.
Ruby
25
I took off my clothes and stepped into the shower, hoping the hot water would wash away some of my pain. The shower was the one place I could be alone and feel vulnerable enough to let go, so I let my tears blend with the water as thoughts of my brother consumed me. I was so upset about Randy being missing that I couldn’t see straight half the time. With each day that passed, the reality that Randy was dead was becoming more apparent. The pain came in waves. Sometimes it was more intense than others, but its presence was constant.
The only relief I’d felt in the last few days was from the fact that Vinnie had been too busy with work to make any sexual overtures toward me. He’d moved all of us out of the Poconos to a house in Cleveland, and since then, I’d barely seen him as he was out trying to set up operations in a new city. I was happy he wasn’t around, because instead of bringing us closer, my brother’s disappearance was driving a wedge between me and Vinnie. He was stepping into my brother’s leadership role a little too eagerly as far as I was concerned, and it made me suspicious. It hadn’t been that long since I caught him talking to the men about what kind of a leader he would be. What if he’d been planning Randy’s demise all along?
The rest of the men in Randy’s crew were pissing me off too. No one seemed all that concerned about him being gone. Things were running smoothly—almost more so than when my brother was leading them. Maybe it was because Vinnie had a way with words that could make you feel like you were a part of something, whereas Randy ruled through fear and intimidation. He never listened to anyone—not even his own sister.
The day that he left for Philly, I’d begged Randy not to go. Between the Duncans and the warrants out for his arrest, it was too risky. But ever since we’d left Philly, Randy said his numbers had dropped, and he was sure someone in his crew was stealing from him. He couldn’t overlook that kind of betrayal, he said.
