by Carl Weber
I shook my head. “Not yet. Carlos said they have some ideas but nothing solid yet.”
“What about funeral arrangements?” Junior asked.
“Orlando, Chippy, and I will leave day after tomorrow for Puerto Rico to attend the funeral. I want you to accompany us as security.”
Junior nodded.
“Pop, if you want we can reschedule this meeting until we get back,” Orlando offered.
“No, it’s probably best we get this over with. After today I want this behind us.”
As I looked around the room at my family, my eyes rested on Sasha. Even though she wasn’t a board member, she had taken over her father’s shares, and as such deserved to be a part of the inner circle. I’d asked her to be present at this meeting. From the expression on her face, she was taking the news of Juan’s death harder than anyone else.
“Sasha, you okay, sweetheart? I know you and Juan worked closely together.”
“I’m okay,” she said, wiping tears.
“So is she getting to go to Puerto Rico too?” Paris sounded upset. That child felt so threatened by Sasha’s presence in our family that she couldn’t manage to have any compassion. I was going to have to talk to her before her behavior toward her cousin got out of hand. This was not a time for us to have any more internal strife.
“We’re going to a funeral, Paris, not on vacation. And it’s up to her if she’d like to attend.”
“No, my work is here,” Sasha answered. “Especially with Junior going with you.”
“Damn, girl, you don’t do funerals? You didn’t go to your dad’s either,” Paris shot off.
“Paris, that’s enough!” I stared her down, letting her know that I wasn’t going to put up with her shit today.
Orlando shook his head at his out of control sibling then stepped up to take control of the room. “Pop, I’m sorry about your friend. Señor Rodriquez was a good guy and a huge believer in H.E.A.T. With that being said, I think we should start this meeting.” He stood there for a few seconds, waiting until everyone was settled.
“I guess everyone knows why I called this meeting. We’re here to vote on H.E.A.T. But first, let me give everyone an update. If you’ll all look down at the folders in front of you and open to page one under Miscellaneous Car Sales . . .” He waited for everyone to open their folders. “You’ll see that from the moment H.E.A.T. hit the market until now, we’ve made fifteen million dollars.”
Paris asked the question everybody wanted to know: “Is that all profit?”
Orlando’s face broke into a smile. “Yes. With the new pipeline in Asia and Australia, Pop’s connections in Europe, and the cartels, this is going to change the Duncans from the little man to The Man.”
I studied everyone seated around the table. Paris seemed pleased. Chippy sat stone-faced, but I knew the numbers would have no effect on my wife. Junior and London were both writing something down. I hoped it was the figure with all the zeros to change their minds. Rio and Harris could barely contain their excitement. Harris was a numbers man, and Rio had been the only one directly in contact with the customers. More than any of us, he saw the effect of H.E.A.T. on the community.
“Before we go any further, Harris has something to say about production.” Orlando nodded to Harris, who stood up.
“We’ve found a reliable factory in South America that can handle both the quantity and the quality. They’re waiting on us so they can get started. I know there have been some concerns about our personal exposure, but we’ve pretty much plugged them. I’ve got enough shell corporations between us and the product to hide a nuclear bomb.” Harris finished and sat down. I noticed he avoided looking at London, who was busy shooting daggers at him. At least I wasn’t the only one getting the cold shoulder from my spouse.
I glanced over at Chippy, who’d seen it too. She cut her eyes at me.
Orlando stood up again. “I know that there are objections, but this drug is going to revolutionize the entire industry. It will change our lives. Before we vote, I’d like to put all the objections on the table.”
Chippy rose first. “I like my life just the way it is. I don’t want anything to change. And contrary to what any of you are thinking, I like us all being prosperous—and we already are. My concern is that this is going to blow up in our faces, and when it does, it’s going to be too late to do anything about it.” She turned to face Orlando. “Lando, you would have never been in L.A. in front of Alejandro had it not been for H.E.A.T. That drug almost cost us your life. Am I the only one who gets that?”
I was about to interject, but Orlando answered. “H.E.A.T. was what saved me,” he said.
“That’s your opinion. I have mine,” Chippy snapped before taking her seat.
“All right, we need to vote.” Orlando’s frustration with his mother had worn him down. Hell, I was married to the woman for almost forty years, so I could have told him that arguing with her wasn’t going to change her mind.
“Anything else?” I looked around the room. No one said anything. I nodded to Orlando, who took over and began the vote.
“London Duncan Grant, yea or nay?”
She answered exactly as I predicted she would: “Nay.”
“Harris Grant? Yea or nay?”
“Yea!” Harris said loudly.
“Lavernius Duncan Jr.? Yea or nay?”
“Nay,” Junior responded. He’d already let me know which way he planned to vote, so there was no surprise there.
“Charlotte Duncan? Yea or nay?”
“Nay!”
“Lavernius Duncan Sr.? Yea or nay?
“Yea.”
“Rio Duncan? Yea or—”
“Yea!” Rio yelled out, cutting him off. That boy was already celebrating.
That meant four votes to three. This thing was about to be decided and finally end all the fighting.
“Paris Duncan? Yea or Nay?” I could see Orlando smiling.
“Nay.”
It took a few seconds for her words to sink in, but when they did I think my jaw hit the ground.
“Excuse me? What did you say?” Orlando blurted out in disbelief.
“I said nay. I’m against it.” She snapped her fingers for effect.
“What the hell! Since when?” he shouted, letting her know he felt betrayed by her.
“Sometimes you got to give up something in order to get something you want. I’m going to France in two weeks. Good baby-sitting don’t come cheap.” Then that child had the nerve to jump up, singing, “I’m going to France, I’m going to France.”
I turned to Chippy. She sat there with her hands folded in front of her and a satisfied smile on her face.
“Have you lost your fucking mind, Paris? You just sold us out over some fucking baby-sitting?” Rio slammed his hand down on the table. I don’t think I had ever seen him this upset. “You are so wrong for this shit!”
“Hey, don’t hate. A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do, bro. I didn’t see you volunteering to watch Jordan so I could go away,” she snapped back without remorse.
“Shit!” Orlando slumped down in his seat.
“It’s tied four to four. Now what do we do?” London brought us back to this new reality.
“Now we go to the tiebreaker,” Junior replied.
“What tiebreaker?” Paris asked. “We ain’t never had a tie before.”
“No, but there is one board member who isn’t here,” I answered as I stood up.
“You mean we have to get his vote?” Paris exclaimed.
“Yes,” I said. “We have to get Vegas’s vote.”
“Hello? How are we supposed to do that? We can’t exactly hold another meeting and ask him to come.” Rio threw up his hands. Yeah, we damn sure weren’t expecting it to go like this.
“We’re going to have to send an impartial party to go and get his vote. Both parties will put together proposals stating their argument for or against, and in three weeks, at our regular board meeting, we’ll know if Vegas
is for H.E.A.T. or against it.”
“Who is this impartial party?” Paris could always be counted on to add her two cents.
“Sasha,” I said. Before I even finished her name, every head turned to Sasha, who had been sitting silently in the corner up until that moment.
Junior
44
I’d been to San Juan a few years ago on vacation and earlier than that on a Spring Break, but this trip exposed me to an entirely different Puerto Rico. From the moment our plane touched down, we were swept up into a world of privilege and privacy. Instead of a touristy hotel, we’d been installed in a private villa on the Rodriguez compound. My job on this trip was to serve as protection for my parents and to make sure everything was handled.
Orlando decided not to attend the funeral. He wanted to stay home and focus on preparing his written argument for Vegas. London was doing the same thing for our side. Her argument would include a personal letter from my mother, which she’d already written and given to my sister. Sasha had already taken the necessary steps in order to visit Vegas and would probably be on her way some time in the next few days. Everything else remained status quo and would hopefully stay that way until our return.
I had put all my men on notice and stepped up the security on the family. Leaving always made me aware of our vulnerabilities. Even Rio had to accept a detail I’d placed on him.
I’d spent the night with Sonya before I left, and I couldn’t help but wish this trip could have doubled as our vacation—except that the vibe was nowhere near rest and relaxation. Pop wasn’t saying much, but I knew that Señor Rodriguez’s death had really affected him. They’d managed to work together for almost forty years without any real threat on their lives, so to have Juan taken out like this probably had Pop questioning his mortality.
At the funeral, LC and Chippy were seated in the front, alongside Juan’s closest friends and extended family. I sat through the service blown away by the veritable who’s who among politicians and drug lords from every corner of the world, including Fidel Castro’s brother Raul and the head of the Solntsevskaya Bratva branch of the Russian mafia. The most surprising by far had to be that representatives from two violent rival factions of La Cosa Nostra in Italy were making nice. Juan Rodriquez commanded such respect that they were all there behaving like childhood best friends instead of assassins and murderers who’d just as soon slice each other’s throats as look at each other.
Back at the Rodriquez house after the funeral, I spotted a few members of the Assassins Guild. I wasn’t supposed to know what anyone looked like, but as a computer and security expert, I made it my business to familiarize myself with the faces and names of all the important players.
As all of these dangerous and powerful people congregated to pay their respects to Juan’s family, many of them made time to approach my father.
“Mr. Duncan, we have recently been told about this new drug H.E.A.T. We hope you are considering allowing us to partner with you,” said a Japanese man that I recognized as the head of the Dojin-Kai drug cartel.
“I will definitely have my representatives get in touch with you. My son Orlando is now head of our organization,” Pop explained. I could see my mother’s mouth tightening as if she smelled something foul. Within moments, the Irish leader of the West End Gang, one of the three organizations that comprise the Montreal Consortium, stepped to Pop with an almost identical conversation. Representatives from the Adams Family in Britain, and the Michoacán family and Los Zetas, both out of Mexico, approached Pop. They were all anxious to take on distribution of H.E.A.T. in their territories. Everyone wanted to be in business with the Duncans.
Even Carlos Rodriguez took a moment away from accepting condolences to pull my father aside. “Mr. Duncan, I wanted to assure you that despite my father’s passing, business will continue as usual.”
“Carlos, no need to be concerned about business right now.” My father shook his hand then pulled him in for a hug. “I’ve known your father for most of my adult life. Heck, I knew you before you came into the world. Juan was not only a great business partner, but also a great friend. I want to know who did this. It wasn’t one of them, was it?” Pop lowered his voice as he glanced around the room. He couldn’t be certain that the perpetrator of the crime wasn’t seated among us.
“No, it was Consuela Zuniga. Of that I am sure,” Carlos informed my father. I saw a look pass between my parents at the mention of the Zuniga name.
“Why would Consuela do that?” my mother asked.
Carlos said, “She blamed my father for her husband’s death. She knows he ordered the hit on Alejandro.”
“But her father is the head of the largest cartel in Mexico.” Pop glanced over at Señor Pedro Morales, Consuela’s father. “Why would she do such a thing? Can’t Pedro control her?”
“No, he can’t. She’s broken off from them. Consuela has gone rogue. She now has no affiliation with anyone outside of the Zuniga organization. As a matter of fact, Los Zetas have placed a million dollar price on her head.” Carlos leaned in closer to my father. “But do not worry. We know exactly where she hides. Now that my father is buried, she will soon feel my wrath. You may consider Consuela Zuniga dead.”
Sasha
45
Five days after Uncle LC assigned me to deliver the proposals to Vegas, I made the trip to the prison in Upstate New York. I was a little nervous about seeing my cousin again after so many years, though I wasn’t sure why. Truth is, I barely remembered anything about him other than the fact that I thought he was cute when I was a little girl. He was older than me and had spent most of his time with the adults. I will say this much about him though: I never met a person who had anything bad to say about Vegas. I can’t tell you how many times I told someone my last name was Duncan and the first thing they asked was if I was related to Vegas Duncan. Everybody loved Vegas, including my father, who absolutely adored him. Sometimes I think he wished Vegas were his son instead of uncle LC’s.
“I’m here to see Michael Johnson,” I told the woman at the visitors’ desk.
I’d been instructed by Uncle LC to refer to Vegas by this pseudonym. For whatever reason, he didn’t use his real name in prison. As a matter of fact, all of the circumstances surrounding Vegas’s arrest and imprisonment were still a little hazy to me, and no one in the family seemed to be willing to talk about the details. It was a touchy subject for them, so I left it alone and just did as I was told.
The woman looked down at her clipboard and said “Follow me.” She led me to a small office, where I was met by a corrections officer.
“I’m Sergeant Dwayne Hammond,” he said. “I’ll be your personal escort today.”
Hammond wasn’t much to look at in the face, but his six foot five inch frame was pretty damn attractive. I didn’t need X-ray vision to see that old boy had a V-shaped chest and rippling muscles under his uniform. More importantly, he had big hands—real big hands. Considering the nature of my profession, I wasn’t a big fan of law enforcement, but Hammond had me thinking about making an exception. Getting laid in a prison was one of those things I wanted to cross off my bucket list.
He had me place my personal belongings in a locker in his office, so the only thing I was carrying were the two proposals for Vegas. When we got to the line of visitors waiting to go through the metal detectors, I realized that having a personal escort was a bonus. Hammond whisked me to the front of the line, where two female officers searched me and then sent me through the metal detector, while all the other chicks in line cursed me out for cutting in. Vegas might not have been using his real name, but he definitely still commanded respect behind bars.
Hammond led me into a room with gray brick walls, bars on the windows, and metal tables and chairs in the center of the room. There were no other visitors to be found, and the thought came to mind that Vegas had his own personal visiting room.
“Have a seat. Mr. Johnson will be with you in a moment.” Hammond walked out of the r
oom, and the heavy door shut loudly behind him.
I sat down in one of the cold metal chairs and placed the proposals on the table. One was in a manila envelope from Orlando, and the other was a sealed folder that was given to me by London that morning before I left.
A few minutes later, I was inspecting my nails for chips when the door opened and Hammond walked back into the room. I swear it felt like my heart had stopped beating for a second—and it wasn’t because of Hammond. It was the sight of the man who followed him into the room.
Okay, now I know Vegas is my cousin, but damn! Damn! It just didn’t seem fair that I had to be related to one of the finest male specimens I’d ever seen. Hell, I remembered him being cute—I’d even seen recent pictures of him that morning before I left the house, but those fucking things didn’t do him any justice. Seeing him in person took it to whole other level.
He looked across the room at me, then turned to Hammond, looking confused. Hammond shrugged. My lascivious thoughts were probably showing on my face.
“Vegas?” I said, feeling a little shy all of a sudden—something that never happened to me.
“Um, do I know you?” He smiled, showing off two of the cutest dimples I’d ever seen as he strolled closer to the table.
It took me a second to answer, because I was still caught up in how fine he was. I had to pull it back and remember that we were related and there was nothing I could do about that but behave myself. “I’m Sasha. Your cousin.”
He jerked his head back in surprise. “Sasha? Little Sasha? Uncle Lou’s Sasha?”
I nodded, smiling.
“Oh my God, I haven’t seen you since you were this big.” He held his hand chest high in a reference to my childhood height then spread his arms wide for a hug.
“Yeah, I guess I grew up a little,” I said with a laugh, throwing my arms around him. Damn, he even smelled good.
“Ya think? I can’t believe how much you’ve grown up, Sasha.” Vegas took a couple of steps back from me. “Your father woulda been proud of you. You’re a beautiful woman.”
