by Carl Weber
“Those are my boys. You may not remember my youngest, Kenny, but you remember Curtis, don’t you?”
Now that I took a closer look, there was no mistaking the menacing man I’d spotted first. His face was a perfect combination of Larry and NeeNee. “Yeah, I remember bad-ass Curtis. He gave me the best laugh of my life when he cut off both of London’s pigtails.” I chuckled at the memory. “I thought Chippy was gonna lose her damn mind the way she was jumping around screaming about those damn pigtails.”
“Damn, I forgot all about that.” He joined in my laughter. “She wasn’t so high and mighty that day, was she?”
“She sure as hell wasn’t. And poor London looked a hot mess for a few months.” Despite our earlier feuds during our younger years, what most people didn’t know was that Larry and I got along. Maybe it was because we were both outcasts, or maybe he just decided I was here to stay. I don’t know why, but I could relate to him more than anyone else in the family besides Lou.
“You still drink bourbon? Let me fix you a drink,” I offered.
“I sure do, but I actually have a surprise for you.” He took me by the arm and led me into the dining room, where I saw the table had been set for four, and dinner was prepared like it was the most normal thing in the world.
“How long have you been in my house, Larry?” I asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe ten, fifteen minutes after you left this afternoon.” He sat down at the table then patted the seat beside him for me to sit. “Come sit.”
Although I didn’t like the fact he’d broken into my house, after all these years, I had sense enough to do what Larry instructed. He had never done anything to harm me, but it was no secret that he had done some unthinkable things to others.
“Here you go.” He passed me a glass of wine. “Cabernet Sauvignon from Napa Valley. Your favorite.”
I took the glass from him but didn’t drink. “Thank you?” I said warily.
“Don’t worry, Donna. I didn’t put anything in there to hurt you. You can drink it.” He laughed and pointed to the silver ice bucket. “Curtis, pass me that bottle. See here? Look. It’s Harlan Estate.”
I stared at the bottle. Sure enough, it was from my favorite vineyard. In normal circumstances I might have been impressed that he’d remembered my preferences, but all I could think about was what reason he could have to be at my house. I knew he wasn’t going to ease up until I drank some wine, so I relented and took the tiniest sip. It didn’t taste like he had put anything in it, but to be safe, I held the glass without drinking more.
“What’s this all about, Larry?” I frowned. “What do you want?”
“You never were one to beat around the bush, were you?”
“No, that’s Chippy’s game.”
He chuckled. “Okay, I’m here because I have a business proposition for you.”
“A business proposition? What are you talking about? Why would I want to go into business with you?”
“Because we share a common enemy—and an enemy of my enemy is my friend.” Larry picked up his glass and drank the wine in one gulp. “Me and the boys are going to take LC down, put him straight out of business, and I want you to be my partner.”
“Oh, really? Just like that you’re going to take down the mighty LC Duncan?” I asked skeptically.
“I’ve already got him and his brats on the run.”
I laughed so hard that I almost spilled my wine. I didn’t know what was funnier: the fact that he said he was going to take his brother out of business, or that he seemed as if he actually believed it. “Yeah, you’re definitely crazy. How the hell do you think you’re going to do that?”
“I’m going to become his biggest competition,” Larry said matter-of-factly.
I looked over at Curtis and Kenny to see if they were in on the joke that clearly was being played on me. They stood in the doorway, looking at their father as if what he was saying made sense.
“Larry, you can’t be serious.”
“I am. And I need your help.”
“Help how?” I giggled. He had me so amused at this point I actually took another sip of wine.
“I’m fucking serious. I need an inside person. Someone who can give me the schematics of their house, plant bugs and stuff like that, so I can start planning their demise,” he said.
Damn, he wasn’t kidding. I put down my glass and shook my head. “No way. I’m not doing that. We come from two totally different worlds. My last name may have been Duncan at one point in time, but I ain’t like the rest of y’all. You should know better.”
“You’ve always been a bourgeois bitch, Donna.” He sighed. “Everyone knows that.”
“And you’ve always been a crazy motherfucker, Larry.” I shrugged. “Everyone knows that too. Besides, I don’t be in that damn house like that anyway. They’d be suspicious of me right away.”
“Fine.” He leaned toward me, kind of hovering in my personal space. “Then there’s another way you can help.”
“How?”
“I need you to recruit your children to our side. They’re both important pieces in this chess game we’re playing,” he stated. “We both know what Junior is capable of, and Kenny tells me your daughter is a bad-ass bitch.”
I blinked. After the way LC and Chippy had been disrespecting me lately, it would feel like sweet revenge to somehow use my kids against them; but at the same time, it made me uncomfortable because I had no idea what Larry was proposing. So, I tried to shoot down his idea. “She is, but she wouldn’t do it for me. We’re not close like that anymore.”
“Well then, work on your relationship. You may be a bourgeois bitch, Donna, but you’re far from dumb. All you have to do is tell Junior you’re his real momma, and his instincts will do the rest. Worst case scenario, he destroys them from the inside. Give LC a little internal strife.”
We stared at one another for a few seconds as I mulled it over in my mind. When I made my decision, I told him, “Hell, no. My leverage with my kids is the only thing keeping LC writing checks. Besides, I don’t even want my kids involved in this family business crap.”
“Look, I don’t have a whole lotta time,” he said, obviously getting frustrated. “I need to know: are you with them or me?”
“I’m not trying to waste your time, Larry. I’m just trying to explain.”
“My momma said you were gonna act like this. That’s why she didn’t wanna come. But I didn’t believe her!” He stood up, yelling, “So, spit it out, Donna. Are you in or not?”
What the hell was this crazy fool talking about? Why would he be bringing his momma into this right now? I had already given him my answer anyway. “No! I may be a bourgeois bitch, as you call it, but they are still my children, and I love them. I don’t want any harm coming to them. If I bring them into this, one, if not both, will end up dead.”
“Well, my dear, if you’re worried about either of your kids ending up dead, I’ll let you know ahead of time: I’m gonna kill them both.” A sinister look came across his face as he started pacing the floor. “There is a silver lining to all this, though. You won’t have to worry about it, because I’m gonna kill you first.”
He swung his arm at me hard, and it was a miracle that all he did was graze my face. I felt the wetness on my thigh and realized I’d dropped the glass of wine. I stared at the red stain soaking into my pants leg and dripping onto the floor. My face was stinging, and when I reached up to my cheek, I realized it was wet too. At first, I thought maybe the wine had splattered to my face, but then, I looked at my fingers and saw a different shade of red. It was blood. My blood.
“You cut me, you psychotic motherfucker! Now I see why LC had your crazy ass locked away.” I tried to get up from the table, but it was too late. Before I could move, Curtis and Kenny were on each side of me, pulling me up. “You’re fucking crazy! Get the fuck off me! Larry, you crazy bastard.”
“The enemy of my enemy is my friend, Donna. But you’re not acting like a friend
; you’re acting like you’re his friend,” Larry growled insanely at me.
I turned my head and caught a glimpse of the steak knife in his hand as he loomed over me. “You really are fucking crazy!”
“You haven’t seen crazy yet,” he said with an evil grin.
LC
44
Almost an hour after we’d left Jun Cheng, Harris and I were in Brooklyn, parked on Livingston Street. We weren’t there long before Vegas slid into the front passenger’s seat to join us. He had a look of pure satisfaction on his face.
“Where the heck did you come from?” Harris asked, startled.
“Taking care of something,” Vegas answered, glancing toward me in the back seat. “How did everything go with Jun?”
“Better than we could have hoped for,” I replied with a grin. “Orlando and Junior are with him now. Everything in place?”
“Oh, yeah,” Vegas said confidently, glancing at his watch. “Things should be going down any moment now.”
“Can someone please explain to me what the hell is going on?” Harris whined. He’d been looking annoyed ever since we left Orlando and Junior with Jun Cheng. One thing about Harris: he hated to be out of the loop, and with his attitude about London being over in Jamaica, we’d been leaving him out of the loop quite a bit.
“See that building over there?” Vegas pointed.
“Yeah,” Harris answered. “The strip club?”
“Mm-hmm. Keep your eyes on it.”
Harris made a face. “Why? What’s so important about that nasty-ass joint? The girls in there are so low-class.”
My son-in-law had had issues with remaining faithful in the past, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d spent plenty of nights in a private room in this very club. I glared at him but held my tongue.
“Just shut the fuck up and watch, Harris,” Vegas told him, probably thinking the same thing I was.
Within a minute, the sirens and horns of an NYPD emergency response team truck were blaring as they pulled up, followed by six regular units and two undercover. We watched as they entered the club with bulletproof vests, masks, and shields, their guns ready.
“Oh, shit! They’re raiding that strip club?” Harris yelled. “I’d hate to be in there right now.”
“Yeah, I bet you would,” Vegas said, shooting him a dirty look. “Keep watching. It ain’t tits and ass they came looking for.”
After a few minutes, they began bringing people out of the building. Half-dressed strippers yelled and complained as they were piled into the backs of vans and police cars. An array of men, from well-dressed businessmen to blue-collar uniformed workers were escorted out.
“What are we waiting on? Did our mailman make a pit stop?” Harris quipped.
“Shut the hell up,” Vegas said. “I’m getting sick of your sarcasm.”
“There he is,” I said.
We watched as a Latino man was brought out in handcuffs and put in the back of an unmarked car.
“Who is that?” Harris asked.
“That’s your new client,” I told him. “His name is Julio Vargas. He was my biggest New York client until a few days ago, when he became Larry’s biggest client. He’s about to be booked for gun possession and possession with the intent to distribute.”
“You orchestrated this, didn’t you? You set him up.” Harris looked miffed but impressed.
“He recently bought ten kilos from Larry. They now belong to the NYPD. First thing in the morning, you’re gonna need to go to his arraignment and eventually bail him out,” Vegas said with a smile.
“Oh, and make sure you remind him that his bail and legal fees are compliments of LC Duncan,” I added.
London
45
It had taken damn near all night, but I had finally convinced Daryl that the easiest way for us to get into Tivoli Gardens was to take the bus and try to blend in with the rest of the people in the neighborhood.
“For the record, I would just like to say that this is a bad idea,” he whispered in my ear as we stepped on the bus. I looked over at him and shook my head. He already looked like he belonged, dressed in a pair of slacks and a long white shirt. It was the same outfit damn near every man on the bus wore. His attire, along with his smooth chocolate skin and his beard, which had grown out since we had been in Jamaica, made him look like he was exactly where he belonged.
“It’s going to work. Stop being so negative,” I told him and stared out the window at the people on the streets. There was nothing about us that made me think we would stand out; especially in the various groups of people I saw.
The bus came to a stop and we got off, along with most of the people on the bus, and headed into the neighborhood. I made sure to keep my head down and not make eye contact with anyone. I also didn’t say anything for fear that they would recognize my American accent. I figured that once we had gotten further down the street, I would ask about Ruby. Asking about Vinnie Dash would send up a red flag immediately.
My confidence started to diminish as we passed one deteriorated building after another. If it weren’t for the women and children sitting outside of them, I would think that they were abandoned, because none of them looked livable with their broken windows, cracked walls, and doors hanging off hinges.
I saw Daryl glancing over his shoulder, and then he took my hand rather forcefully and tugged me into a crowded store. I knew not to say anything, because his body language sent a strong enough message that something wasn’t right. We walked up and down the aisles, until finally he stopped and picked up a jar of something, pretending to examine it.
“What’s wrong?” I mumbled, pointing at the label so it would look like we were discussing the item in his hand.
“We’re being followed.”
“Are you sure?”
He gave me a quick look that said What the hell do you think? and I looked past him down the aisle. The only person I saw was a guy, about thirty years old, on his cell phone; but I knew Daryl well enough to know that if he said we were being followed, then we probably were.
“Come on.” He put the jar back on the shelf, and we quickly walked out of the store. I glanced back and saw a little boy and a teenager walking out behind us. I did not like the look on the older one’s face. We sped up the pace for another two blocks, then turned onto what looked like a small street but turned out to be an alley. The teenager behind us let out a yelp, and suddenly there were three men coming around the corner at the other end of the alley.
I stopped in my tracks when I saw that the one in the middle was holding a machete, and his partners by his side held large knives. I turned around, and the boys were still behind us standing there like they were prepared to stop us from going back.
“We don’t want no trouble,” Daryl said. “We’re just filmmakers scouting out locations for a documentary we’re making.”
“Is dat so, mon?” yelled one of the men who were now approaching us from the other end of the alley.
“That’s right,” Daryl told him, easing his revolver out of his waistband. “You want some, then come and get it.” He raised his gun.
My heart raced as I reached in my purse for my own gun and got into position. Daryl’s arm went up to protect me. We were at a standstill for a few heated seconds, until they realized their weapons were no match for our bullets. They stopped advancing and lowered their weapons to their sides.
“Get de fuck out!” the man yelled at us.
We moved quickly, our guns still pointed as we backed out, past the boys who had stepped to the side, and then we hauled ass down the street.
“Put your gun away,” Daryl told me, and I didn’t hesitate to do it.
I looked back, and now, in addition to the men we had faced in the alley, there were another four with them, all walking behind us. They kept their distance but made it clear they wouldn’t stop following us until we got the hell out of their neighborhood. We didn’t slow down as we hustled down four blocks and crossed the main street
that led out of Tivoli Gardens; then we went another two blocks before Daryl finally stopped.
When I finally caught my breath, I asked, “How did you know they didn’t have guns?”
“I didn’t. I took a chance,” he said.
“What the fuck, Daryl? That was pretty risky, wasn’t it?”
He shrugged. “Better than being dead, but maybe not as much as you’d think. Believe it or not, you get caught with a gun here in Jamaica, that’s some serious shit. A gun charge here ain’t no simple six-month sentence like back in the States. They give you a year for each bullet. Now, I’m sure Vinnie’s guys have guns, but the average thug’s just carrying a machete or a knife down here. And they will use those fucking knives for sure. If they don’t kill you, they’ll cut off your feet.”
I looked down at the black Tory Burch flats on my feet, the simplest shoes I owned. Thank God I hadn’t been wearing heels as we ran for our lives. “Wow.”
“Exactly.” Daryl nodded. “Oh, and London?”
“Yeah?”
“Risky was coming down here in the first place. I told you this shit was a bad idea.”
Sasha
46
“About time you got out here. We were supposed to leave an hour ago.”
I rolled my eyes at Junior and hopped in the passenger’s side of the car. I knew I had been the hold up, but I didn’t care. Hell, I didn’t even want to go. But Uncle LC and Vegas had tasked the two of us with heading upstate to the mental facility that had housed Uncle Larry for nearly two decades to see what information we could get.
“Let’s just hurry up so we can get back. Paris and I got plans for later tonight,” I told him.
Junior laughed. “You and Paris always got plans. Don’t worry. I wanna get back here just as fast as you do, because me and my wife got plans too.”
“What kinda plans you got?” I eyed him. Junior was the least social member of the Duncan family. He pretty much never went out, other than to take Sonya somewhere, and I couldn’t remember the last time they went to a club. I always teased him about being the strong, silent type. He was just as handsome as his brothers and Uncle LC, but Junior was bigger, way bigger than them, and he was as strong as an ox. I always felt safe around him, even as a kid. Paris may have been like a sister to me, but there had always been a connection between me and Junior. Maybe it was because he was so close to my father.
