by Carl Weber
“I’m not asking you to become my ally. I tell you what—” I reached into my pocket. John’s fat body stiffened until he realized I was only pulling out a small piece of paper. I held it out to him. “Call Vinnie and just ask him about Larry Duncan. I’m sure he can confirm that my brother and I are not friends. Once you’ve done so, give me a call.”
Jamaica John took the slip of paper from my hand and said, “I will do that.”
“I look forward to your call.” I stood up and stepped over Dexter’s body as I left the office.
London
16
“This is some bull!” Sasha mumbled, almost knocking me and my mother down as she exited my father’s home office while we were entering.
“Sasha, what’s wrong, baby?” my mother asked.
She paused briefly and looked at me, then turned to my mother and said, “Nothing, Aunt Chippy. I’m just having a bad couple of days.” She stormed off without waiting for a reply.
“What’s that all about?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” My mother shrugged. “But I hope it doesn’t have anything to do with why your father wants to see you.”
“Me too,” I said, pushing the door open. We entered the office and sat down in the chairs next to Vegas.
“LC, what’s wrong with Sasha?” my mother asked. Both my father and Vegas looked up at me.
“She’s not happy with a decision we made, that’s all.” Daddy sighed.
“What decision?” Mom looked a little puzzled, if not annoyed. According to her rules, if any decisions about the family were to be made, she should be there when they were making them.
“Sorry, Pop. I didn’t mean to throw you under the bus, but this was your decision.” Vegas raised his hands defensively. “I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
All eyes turned to my father as my mother spoke. “LC, what’s going on?”
Before Daddy could answer, the door to his office flew open, and my husband came rushing in, looking agitated. “LC, what the hell are you thinking? Sasha just told me what you’re doing. There’s no way in hell you’re sending my wife on this wild goose chase halfway around the world after some mobster. I won’t allow it.” Harris was visibly upset and stood with his hands clenched by his sides.
“What are you talking about, Harris?” I looked at my husband like he was crazy then turned my attention back to my father. “Daddy?”
“We’re sending you to Jamaica, London,” Daddy said.
My heart began pounding. From the tone of his voice and the way he looked at me, I knew that the decision for me to go had been one he thought about long and hard. My father had never put me in danger before, so without question, I knew it was because it needed to be done.
“She’s not going anywhere. Have you forgotten that she has a husband and children to care for?” Harris asked. I hadn’t heard him this passionate about anything other than sex in years.
“And when were you going to tell me all this?” my mother snapped at Daddy with attitude. “You’re making a lot of decisions without talking to me, LC, and I don’t like it.”
Before Daddy could respond, Harris was at it again. “Why would you even ask her to do something like this? My wife doesn’t handle that kind of thing. She’s not capable or trained the way your other children are.”
Vegas tried to reason with Harris. “Oh, she’s quite capable. I trained her myself back in the day. You don’t give your wife enough credit. I heard about the way she handled the situation when Mariah was kidnapped. That should show you that she knows what she’s doing.”
I didn’t say anything, but I was flattered by my brother’s vote of confidence. It wasn’t often that I got credit for anything in this family.
“I’m sorry, but I forbid it. End of discussion,” Harris said, then turned to Daddy and asked, “Why not send Sasha, or better yet, Paris? She’s dying to go. Send one of them.”
“You forbid it?” Vegas laughed. “Obviously I’ve been away too long.”
“Listen, we have two fires to put out, Harris: one here, and one over there. We need Paris and Sasha to help handle Larry. I know you’re concerned about London, but I have all the faith in the world in my daughter,” Daddy said in an effort to reassure him.
“Bullshit. She’s not going.” Harris stood his ground.
“Harris—” I started, but before I could speak another word, Vegas cut me off.
“No, London, maybe Harris is right. There is a better candidate.” Vegas stepped up and faced my husband. “We can always send Harris instead of London. I mean, after all, he did kill Vinnie’s dad. Why not send him to handle the son? What d’you think, Pop?”
A look of fear came over Harris’s face. I’d always known my husband wasn’t the bravest guy, but he backed down so fast I was almost embarrassed for him. He glanced over at me and then quickly looked away.
“No, that was a one-time thing,” he said. “I . . . I’m the family’s lawyer. I should be in the country if anything legal comes up. So, maybe you’re right; London’s probably the right person for the job. When do you want her to leave?”
“That’s what I thought.” Vegas rolled his eyes.
I couldn’t believe Harris. Talk about throwing someone under the bus! He’d just thrown me under a tractor trailer. I knew as well as everyone else in the room that there was no way Daddy would send Harris anywhere other than to handle paperwork. The fact that he wasn’t built for the dark side of my family wasn’t a secret, but to watch him visibly cower and, rather than stand up like a man, offer me up instead, was heartbreaking in a sense. I looked over at Vegas, who seemed amused by his reaction.
“Daryl and Rio are going with you,” Daddy said.
At the sound of my former lover’s name, I felt a shockwave through my body. For the longest time, I’d been fighting thoughts about Daryl and purposely avoided putting myself in any situation where the two of us would be alone. It had been months since I’d dared go into our home gym, because I knew that was where he would sometimes work out when he was visiting. Now, it seemed as if we would be spending more time together than I ever imagined, and in Jamaica of all places.
“London? London?” I heard my name being called.
“Huh?” I asked, realizing that I had zoned out and missed part of the conversation that had taken place.
“Did you have any questions?” Daddy asked me.
I looked over at Harris, standing with his arms folded and a scowl on his face. He was the polar opposite of Daryl, who was bold and fearless. I turned to Daddy and smiled. “When do I leave?”
Orlando
17
I took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger of my 9 mm Glock, sending bullets into the head and chest of the paper target. Satisfied, I put the gun down and removed the large headphones I was wearing. I’d been down in the basement shooting range of our house for almost two hours, shooting round after round, hoping to release some of the tension I’d been feeling over my son. Unfortunately, it hadn’t worked.
“Nice shooting, O.” I turned to see Junior standing behind me, staring at the target, now full of gaping holes.
“Thanks. You know what they say about visualizing your target,” I responded.
“Damn, who you visualizing, Vinnie Dash or Uncle Larry?” he asked.
“Vegas,” I replied, ripping off my safety glasses.
“Funny.” Junior smiled.
“That wasn’t a joke.”
“It was still funny.” He shrugged and leaned on the edge of the wooden counter.
“I’m glad you’re finding humor in this fucked-up situation. I mean, why should you or Vegas even be bothered? Both of you know where your kids are. His is in the house, and yours is in Sonya’s belly. Vegas won’t even let me go and find mine. Fuck it. What I should do is get on a plane my damn self and go.”
“Come on, O. You need to stop talking that rogue shit. You know that would be a mistake.”
“Would it?” I glared a
t him.
“It would, so stop acting stupid. You know Vegas is just as anxious to get your son back as you are, and so is everybody else. We’re your family.”
“Yeah, but that’s my son.”
“And that’s our nephew,” Junior snapped, sounding a little agitated himself. “You know, for someone so smart, you can be real stupid sometimes. Why does everyone have to tell you the same damn thing repeatedly, huh? You’d be spotted the minute you step foot in Jamaica. We gotta play this smart, O, or somebody is gonna get hurt, and we don’t want it to be your son.”
“I get it, but what the fuck am I supposed to do?” I asked in frustration. Everything Junior was saying made sense, but it still didn’t help ease my frustration. I hated the feeling of being powerless. “I can’t just sit around here and do nothing.”
“You’re not doing nothing. You and Paris are headed down south to Waycross in two hours. Vegas and Pop want you to see if you can find any clues to Kenny and Curt’s whereabouts. Hopefully it will lead us to Uncle Larry.”
“Why aren’t they sending you with us? You and Curtis grew up together, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, we were pretty much best friends when we lived down in Georgia and first came to New York. Heck, we was still close until Uncle Larry went batshit crazy.” Junior’s expression revealed his sadness at the loss of his one-time best friend. “After that, Curt was so pissed about Pop putting his old man in a mental hospital he stopped taking my calls.”
“All I remember was I always used to try and avoid him because he would beat me and London up when you and Vegas weren’t around.”
“Yeah, that sounds like Curt. He was a real bully.” Junior chuckled to himself. “He used to do that stuff to us too, until me and Vegas locked his ass in a closet one night. He came out the next morning humble as shit.”
“So, what do you think his take on this is? Anything I should know about him?”
“Crazy or not, he’ll do anything for Uncle Larry. The two of them have this crazy obsession with each other. Uncle Larry could do no wrong in Curt’s eyes.”
“Do you think he can be reasoned with?” I asked.
Junior got a troubled look on his face. “Curtis is more like Uncle Larry than anyone realizes. He used to light animals on fire and shit like that when we were kids.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Get the fuck outta here. That’s some making-of-a-serial-killer type shit.”
“Exactly. Like father like son, so whatever you do, don’t sleep on him.”
“I won’t,” I replied sincerely. “What about Kenny? What do you know about him?”
“Nothing really. He was in elementary school when Uncle Larry went away, so you might wanna check with Paris or Rio on that. They know him better than me. He seemed cool last time he came to the family reunion with Aunt NeeNee a few years back, though.”
“Yeah, he did.” We stood silently for a few seconds, and then I asked, “Junior, what does my son look like?”
“He’s your complexion and has the same big-ass, oblong head you had as a kid. He’s a cute little fella, with his mom’s dimples.”
I tried to imagine a younger me with a smile as beautiful as Ruby’s. “She does have a pretty smile, doesn’t she?”
“She looked good. I’m not gonna lie. She looked real good,” Junior told me.
“Junior, I don’t mean to sound negative, but do you truthfully think I’ll ever see my son?” I asked. I had butterflies in my stomach, anticipating my brother’s answer.
“Yeah, London, Rio, and Daryl will figure something out, or they’ll call us to come help. So, I wouldn’t worry about that. You’ll see your boy,” Junior replied, but his voice and expression were troubled.
“What?” I asked, but all he did was bite his lip. “Don’t hold anything back, Junior. What’s on your mind?”
“Let’s say we get him. What’re we going to do, have London and Daryl bring him back here? Rip him from his mother’s arms? I mean, O, you may be his father, but he don’t even know you.”
I could hear Junior’s words, but my brain would not allow me to comprehend them.
“And even if we get Ruby to see the light,” he continued, “that kid’s been poisoned about you and our family since birth. Bringing him back here might not be in his best interest.”
“What are you trying to say, Junior?”
“I’m not trying to say anything; I said it. You’re his father. You have to decide what’s best for your kid, and in the end, that might not be what’s best for you.”
I let out a long, aggravated breath, because he was right. “Dammit! This is all his fault. Vinnie Dash orchestrated this shit.” I put the headphones back on, picked up a gun, and fired it several times, ripping more holes in the target. I took the headphones off again, not feeling any less frustrated.
Junior looked at me and sighed. “I’m not trying to cause you drama. I just need you to be prepared. This is not going to be easy.”
“I know. And you know what the real fucked up part of this is?”
“What?”
“As much as I love my son, I still love his mother too—and I’m probably going to have to make a decision on whether she lives or dies.” I put the gun down and walked off.
Curtis
18
“Place looks closed to me, Dad,” I said, driving through the opened gate to the front of the building. It was well after eight o’clock, and as I expected, the large warehouse building looked closed.
“Don’t worry about what it looks like. Pull up over there.” I began to pull into a parking space, and he yelled, “God dammit, Curt! Not here, you fool. Pull around back. Don’t you see that big-ass security camera that’s pointed at us?”
“Sorry.” I shrugged and drove around to the back of the building.
The open garage doors once again proved that Dad was right and the place was still open. I parked the car in the shadows between two trucks and waited for his instructions, because I had no clue what the plan might be. We’d just driven almost fifteen and a half hours from New York City to Atalnta, Geaorgia, and Pop had barely said a word, other than to give directions. I’d never seen him this quiet, except for the day he had me drop him off at Duncan Motors and he shot Uncle LC.
“Curt, you’re on my right. Kenny, you’re on my left,” Dad said, uncovering two semi-automatic rifles and passing one to each of us. He took his own pistol out, sliding a bullet into the chamber. As we got out of the car, Kenny and I hid our weapons under our jackets, and we all headed toward the building.
We walked into the first bay, where a man was leaned up against one of the tractor trailers, smoking a cigarette. I could see the anguish on my Dad’s face as he read the words Duncan Transports on the side of the truck
“Can I help you?” the guy asked, tossing the cigarette onto the ground and stepping on it.
“I’m looking for Frankie B. Is he anywhere around?” Dad said.
At that moment, I knew the plan, and I was sure Kenny did too. We were going to kill everyone in the building. You see, when we’d finally gone back to talk to Jamaica John that afternoon, he said he’d spoken to Vinnie Dash, and Vinnie refused to deal with any Duncans.
“Did you tell him I don’t fuck with LC and that I’m going to put my brother out of business?” Dad had yelled at Jamaica John.
“Yeah, mon. I told him all about dat you’re tryin to make a deal. De problem isn’t de deal; de problem is he doesn’t trust ya,” Jamaica John tried to explain. I almost felt sorry for the guy, because in a few minutes, he was probably going to be dead.
“Well, how the fuck can I get him to trust me when he won’t even sit down and talk?” my dad asked. I could see his hand twitching, which meant he was about to reach for his gun. I made eye contact with Kenny to make sure he was going to be ready. Jamaica John had about six guys with him, and they all looked high as hell, which placed the odds heavily on our side.
“Dat depends on whether or not y
ou’re sincere.” Jamaica John was sweating bullets.
“What does that mean?” Pops looked at him strangely.
“Maybe you can do someting to help him, as a sign of good faith? Show him you can be trusted.” Jamaica John grinned, and I wondered if he knew he had just saved his own life.
“Show him how?”
“Dere is a man by de name of Frank Bosworth. Maybe you have heard of him?”
My dad frowned then spit out, “Frankie B? Hell yeah, I know him. He’s LC’s driver.”
John shook his head. “Maybe he used to be de driver fo’ ya brudda, but that must have been some time ago, because he is LC’s transporter. Handles everyting shipped, domestic and international, legal and illegal. De boss of transport and logistics.”
“Get the fuck outta here,” my dad said. “Fucking Frankie B got my old job.”
“And he is a pain in Vinnie’s ass. Vinnie can’t get shit to where it needs to be because Frankie and LC blackballed him. Now, if Frankie somehow was no longer to be a pain in Vinnie’s ass, den maybe—”
“Consider it done,” Dad had said before John could even finish. “And tell Vinnie there is no maybe. I want to meet with him day after tomorrow, or he’ll suffer the same fate as Frankie.” Dad turned and walked off.
John had looked at me and Kenny as if he expected us to explain, but we didn’t. We followed Dad out the door, and now, here we were.
“He’s in the office.” The man pointed toward the back. “But it’s kind of late, and he hates to be disturbed. Who can I tell him is looking for him?”
“You don’t have to tell him shit. I’ll tell him myself,” Dad told him, pulling out a dagger and throwing it into the man’s chest. He fell to the ground.
We moved through the building, and two guys wearing coveralls came out of nowhere to confront us. They were both unarmed, so Kenny and I took them out with our own knives within seconds. Somewhere in the building, someone had to have cameras, because soon after, two other guys came running toward us with guns. Dad blasted them before they even realized what was happening.
