by Carl Weber
London ran back up the stoop and screamed into the house. “Momma! Daddy! He’s alive! Orland’s alive!”
Within seconds, Pop was outside with us. “Dear Lord, thank you,” he said, looking up toward the sky. Then he looked at me and said, “Come on in here, boy.”
My siblings moved aside to let me through. We weren’t usually a touchy-feely kind of family, but I didn’t hesitate to throw my arms around my old man. We must have held each other for a solid minute. At that moment, he wasn’t LC Duncan, businessman; he was my father. My dad. Pop.
Still holding my arm, Pop led me inside the house with everyone following behind. As I entered the foyer, I saw my mother coming down the stairs, and I thought I detected a little hesitation in her steps. She reached the bottom and stopped.
My father let go of me. I walked over and stood in front of her. That’s when I saw that she was trembling.
“Orlando?” she whispered.
“Yeah, Ma, it’s me. You’re not still mad at me, are you?”
Tears exploded from her eyes as she threw open her arms. “Boy, if you don’t get over here and give your mother some sugar.” I fell into her arms.
A few minutes later, we were all sitting around the living room. I think everyone was still pretty shell shocked, because for a while no one said a word. They all sat there staring at me like I was a ghost. In some ways I guess I was, because up until a few minutes ago, they’d thought I was dead.
My mother finally broke the silence, asking, “Are you hungry?”
It was the first time I realized that I was indeed hungry. I’d slept through the onboard meal on the plane, and I hadn’t eaten anything before leaving California. For all I knew I hadn’t eaten since before Alejandro took me captive.
“Yeah, Ma. I’m starving,” I said. She went off happily to the kitchen with London to prepare a meal.
I stared around the room, gratefully taking in all the familiar details and family photos—until I saw a picture of Trent and me. “Pop . . . Trent’s dead.”
He lowered his head. “I know. We’ve got his body. Somehow they thought he was you.”
I shifted around in my seat, my guilt rising to the surface full force. “Trent was pretending to be me.”
“Why?” Pop asked.
“I’m not really sure,” I started, and then gave them a complete account of everything that happened that day, starting from the moment Ruby called my phone. If they thought I was to blame, it didn’t show on anyone’s face.
When I was done, Junior spoke first. “What I wanna know is how the hell you got outta there.”
“Believe it or not, Alejandro brought me to the airport and handed me a ticket,” I said, which brought on a chorus of confused questions.
“Why would he keep you there if he was just going to release you?” Paris asked.
“Oh, believe me, he didn’t want to release me. He wanted me to stay there and make H.E.A.T. exclusively for him—until his wife talked him out of it. She said the cartel wouldn’t like it. She seemed pretty scared.”
“She has good reason to be,” Pop said. “He fucked up big time by reigniting this war between us, and the cartel is not happy. They’re on his ass like flies on stink.”
“Yeah, well, he doesn’t seem to think there’s any sort of problem.” I shook my head. “He sent me home with a message to tell you that he still wants to do business with you—or at least he did until he figured out he’d killed the wrong Duncan.”
This took everyone by surprise. “So he knows who you are?”
“Yeah. Right before I got on the plane, his driver got word that they’d sent back the wrong body. You should have seen the look on Alejandro’s face when he figured out that I was your son,” I told Pop. “If we hadn’t been in a crowded airport, I wouldn’t have made it out of there alive.”
Everyone was quiet again as they tried to digest this new information.
“So what are we going to do with Alejandro?” I asked. “He killed Trent thinking it was me, and now that he knows I’m alive, he’s not going to sit back and wait.” I looked around the room at my siblings. “None of us are safe.”
Pop shook his head and said, “Don’t worry about Alejandro. He’s as good as dead.”
“Well, be careful who you send.” I turned to Junior and Paris. “That guy’s got his own personal army out there. No way anyone’s getting to him on that compound.”
“We’re not handling it,” Pop said. “Juan Rodriguez is.”
“Really? Why?”
“Rodriguez brokered the meeting, and Alejandro ensured him that there would be no problems. Now Rodriguez must make an example of Alejandro.”
Harris chimed in with another theory. “Not to mention the fact that Rodriguez wants to keep us happy in light of our new business venture.”
I looked to him for an explanation, and he told me, “Señor Rodriguez is loving the H.E.A.T. He wants to be our sole distributor to Asia and Australia.”
In light of all the events that had taken place recently, this bit of good news was enough to put a huge grin on my face. What Pop said next made me swell with pride.
“Son, you were right. You did do it! You’ve put us on the map.”
“Did what?” my mother asked as she and London walked into the room carrying trays of food.
“We were just talking about H.E.A.T., Ma,” Junior replied.
Ma put down the tray, glaring at my father. “He just got home, LC. Can I have my son for one day without this bullshit? Just one day.”
Pop stood up and put his arm around her shoulder. “Your mother’s right. No more business talk today. Today is about family. Let’s celebrate your brother coming home.”
Junior
30
Sonya opened the door almost as soon as I rang the bell. She stood there looking fine as hell. Her hair had been recently done, her face freshly made, and her cleavage was showing enough to stop any man dead in his tracks. I was glad to see her, but given the fact that she had her bag over her shoulder and her keys in her hand, she sure wasn’t expecting me.
“Going somewhere?”
Deep down I knew I had no right to ask her that question, not after the way I’d kept her in the dark ever since I got the call that Orlando was dead. Sonya and I had spoken on the phone once or twice since then, but I was too wrecked to say much of anything. The calls ended quickly with her doing most of the talking. Now that I knew my brother was alive, I wanted to make it up to Sonya. Unfortunately, she didn’t exactly look pleased to see me.
“Junior, what are you doing here?” She didn’t sound mad, just confused, like maybe she hadn’t expected to ever see me again.
I held up the dozen long stem red roses and the bottle of wine that I’d brought. “Miss me? ’Cause I sure as hell missed you.”
She tried to hide a smile. I could tell she liked the gifts, but I guess she wasn’t ready to let me off the hook that easy. “You should have called,” she said. “It might have saved you a trip.”
“You want me to go?” I asked, hoping like hell she wouldn’t say yes.
“It’s just that I wasn’t expecting you. I thought you were dealing with your brother’s death, and you didn’t seem to want to talk—”
I put up my hand to stop her. “It’s not like that. I’m sor—”
It was her turn to cut me off. “No, I’m sorry, Junior. It’s nice to see you, but I have plans.”
I started putting the pieces together. Looking as fine as she was, Sonya was getting ready to go out on a date with someone else. If she was any other woman, I would have said fuck it and walked away, but there was something about Sonya. I couldn’t give her up that easily.
I stepped a little closer to her so she couldn’t get by. I needed her to hear me out.
“Look, Sonya, I know it sounds crazy, but my brother’s not dead anymore. I know I’ve been MIA, but just let me come in and I’ll make it up to you. You don’t need to go out with that other dude, whoever he is.
”
She looked down at the ground and said nothing. I put my hand under her chin and lifted her face so she would have to make eye contact.
“Sonya, I want you. Don’t you know that?”
She gave me a sad smile. “Junior, I’m not going out on a date. I’m going upstate to see my husband.”
I felt a stab of jealousy but didn’t act on it. I knew what I was getting myself into when I met her. She was a married woman, and if I went crazy on her for visiting her husband, it would only push her away. If I kept my cool and treated her the way she deserved to be treated, sooner or later she’d forget all about her man in lockup. My brother Vegas had taught me that lesson. He said most of the brothers he knew came into prison swearing their girls would wait for them while they did their time. One by one, though, they lost their women to someone on the outside. Every woman wants someone who can hold her at night, so no matter how much she loves her man, if he’s behind bars, it doesn’t take much for someone else to step into his shoes. If I played things right with Sonya, this might be one of her last visits upstate.
“Going upstate, huh?” I leaned in and placed my hands on her juicy, round hips. “That’s cool, but are you sure you don’t have a few minutes for me to take care of you before you go?” I kissed her neck the way I knew she liked it.
I felt her breathing become shallow, and I knew I was getting to her. She wasn’t ready to give in just yet, though.
“Junior, I have a bus to catch,” she protested, although she didn’t remove my hands, which had wandered to her ass.
That was all the encouragement I needed to keep going. I pressed against her so she could feel how hard she was making me. A soft moan escaped her mouth as I nipped at her earlobe.
“Give me your keys,” I whispered, and she handed them over without a word.
I unlocked the door and led her into the apartment. Taking the flowers and wine out of her hands, I placed them on the table. When I turned back to Sonya, she grabbed me by the collar and pulled me close, sliding her tongue in my mouth. We went at it for a few minutes, making out like horny teenagers, our hands roaming over each other’s bodies.
I reached for the buttons on her blouse, but she put her hand on mine to stop me. “I want you, but I can’t miss this bus.”
I took her hand off mine and undid one button. “If I promise to get you upstate by morning, can we chill for a bit?” I moved down to the next button.
“But how you gonna—”
Before she could finish her question, I ripped open the rest of her shirt and freed her beautiful breasts from her bra. My mouth was on her nipples in a hurry.
She moaned loudly, and I knew she was done protesting. I led her to the couch, sat her down, and finished undressing her. Then I lowered myself to the floor and put my head between her legs to taste her sweetness.
“I shouldn’t be doing this,” she said even as she gripped my head and ground her hips into my face.
I looked up at her and said, “Yes, you should. Especially if you’re going to see your husband.”
She twisted her lips at me. “Yeah, so I need to go see him with you all over me?”
“Absolutely. From this day forward, wherever you go, I go. Just because I won’t be in the room with you tomorrow, I’ll be there—all over you,” I said as I gave her kisses on her thighs.
“You really don’t have any idea who my husband is, do you?”
“No, baby.” I smiled. “It’s your husband who doesn’t have any idea who I am.”
LC
31
Having Orlando back home with us suddenly put everything into perspective. How could it not? You don’t receive that kind of miracle and then go back to complaining, arguing, and taking each other for granted—at least not all in the same day. With Orlando’s return, everybody rallied and came together as a family. Even Paris, who had been at odds with Orlando ever since I appointed him as my successor, kept finding reasons to be near him. She even insisted on sitting next to him at dinner. Rio managed to tone down his flamboyance and appeared much more interested in being viewed as a mature businessman. And nobody argued at the dinner table; that was definitely a first. I’d been around too long to believe that my children wouldn’t eventually revert back to their normal behavior, but today they were all appreciative of the blessing of having their brother home safe and sound.
The real bonus to come out of this was my wife inviting me back into our bedroom. She had that look in her eye, the one that meant I was about to get lucky. It had been a miserable couple of weeks, with me sleeping in one of the guest rooms. Although it wasn’t the first time she’d banished me from our bedroom, it had been the longest.
When I entered to find Chippy on our bed in the black negligee I’d given her last Valentines Day, with her hair down on her shoulders, just the sight of her excited me. I know that some men my age need assistance, but once again my wife proved stronger than any drug when it came to turning me on. I had loved the same woman for more than forty years, and it would be a lie to say that our sex life hadn’t experienced ups and downs, but in the past few years, it had only gotten better. It wasn’t the same level of acrobatics and stamina we’d had in our youth, but the beauty of making love to the same woman was that I knew every square inch of her body and exactly how she liked to be pleased.
After Chippy and I became reacquainted, I was puffing on a Cohiba and reflecting on how truly blessed I was. She put back on her nightgown and turned to me as if she were reading my mind.
“It’s really good to have him back, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it is.” I leaned back against the pillow on my side of the bed.
“It’s good to have you back too.” She snuggled up against me, stroking my bare stomach.
I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and pulled her even closer. “It’s good to be back.”
“You do realize that even though we have Orlando back and I’ve allowed you into my bed again, this issue with H.E.A.T. is not over.” She gave me an uncompromising stare. “I love both you and Orlando, LC, but I will fight for what I believe is right for this family.”
“I don’t want to fight with you, Chippy, but we just don’t see eye to eye on this.”
She opened her mouth to say something, but my phone rang. The ring tone, La Bamba, was the one I set for Juan Rodriguez’s calls.
“I have to answer this,” I said, giving her an apologetic look.
She untangled herself from my arms and got out of the bed.
“Where are you going?” I asked, already missing the feel of her body against mine. I couldn’t tell if she was pissed.
To my relief, she said, “I’ll be back. Go ahead and answer it,” as she headed into the bathroom.
“Juan, my friend, sometimes you have the worst timing,” I said as I answered the call.
“And for that I am sorry, my friend, but I just wanted to let you know that it’s done. Your problem in the west is solved. I will speak to you in the morning.”
“Thanks for the good news.” I hung up.
Chippy stepped back into the room.
“Alejandro is dead,” I said with a smile, delivering what I expected to be the second best piece of news for the day.
“Seriously?” She was not reacting with any excitement.
I suddenly felt like I needed to explain why this was good news. “That should be the end of any problem.”
“Maybe.”
“What do you mean, maybe? I thought you’d be happy.”
She pulled a robe over her negligee and gave me an exasperated look. “Did you forgot about his wife? She lost a son and a husband, and she’s the daughter of the head of the largest and most powerful drug cartel in all of Mexico. And you want me to believe this is over?”
“She’s not going to be a problem. We bring too much money to the cartels. They’re not going to want to see us dead,” I said, hoping like hell that I was right.
Junior
32
I left Sonya’s place after arranging for one of my guys to drive her upstate to see her husband. Despite the fact that she’d worn my ass out and I was tired as hell, I headed in the opposite direction of home. My men had told me that Orlando was at his lab, and I wanted to spend some time with my little brother.
When I pulled up outside the lab in Brookhaven, Long Island, I saw Orlando’s car was parked outside. Two of the four men I had guarding the place were in view, one in front of the building and the other parked in a car about twenty feet away. After everything that happened, I had beefed up the security detail on everyone in the family, particularly Orlando.
“My brother in there?”
“Yes, sir,” my man at the door replied. He opened the door for me to enter.
I rarely went to Orlando’s lab, partly because I was too busy handling the more physical part of the business and partly because all that science stuff was way over my head. The place was full of beakers bubbling, lab rats in various cages, and things going on that you’d need a Ph.D. to describe. Personally, I found a lot of the stuff in there to be pretty damn creepy.
Orlando was so intensely focused on a dead rat in front of him that he didn’t notice me enter.
“Don’t you ever sleep?”
My voiced jarred him. He glanced up at me, lifted his glasses, and put down his instruments.
“I don’t want to sleep anymore. Seems like the last few days all I did was sleep—with a little help from whatever the fuck they sedated me with. I need to work and get back on track. Pop won’t let me come to the office until tomorrow, so I came here.” He slipped off his gloves and stuffed them in his lab coat. “What’s going on? What are you doing here this time of night?”
“Just came to check on you, man.”
“I appreciate it, Junior, but I’m cool. No need to worry about me.” He leaned back against the lab table, and the rat on the table started twitching.
“What the fuck?” I almost jumped out of my skin. “Yo, man, that dead rat just moved.”
Orlando started laughing as he turned around and picked up the rat. “Who said he was dead?”
