Destroying Carter

by W. S. Greer

  The tone in his voice is almost juvenile. He’s terrified, and I can’t blame him. Uncle Clarence would scare the shit out of the most notorious gangsters, not to mention the fact that Derrick looks like he’s about a hundred and thirty pounds soaking wet.

  Uncle Clarence begins to nod his head and take tiny steps towards Derrick who has backed himself up all the way against the door. “Say that part again,” he says calmly.

  “I’m gonna get it together,” Derrick responds quietly as Uncle Clarence steps closer to him.

  “Nah, not that part. Before that.” Uncle Clarence traps Derrick in the corner and stands in front of him.

  Derrick’s eyes dart back and forth between my uncle and me. “I… I know I fucked up,” he stutters.

  Uncle Clarence nods his head in apparent approval. “That’s right, Derrick. You fucked up.”

  Suddenly, Uncle Clarence reaches back and punches Derrick in the face. My heart shoots into overdrive as I watch Derrick’s head bounce off the wall behind him, then he crumbles to the floor in a heap.

  “Holy shit!” I exclaim. “Damn, Uncle Clarence, I already told you that I pistol whipped the guy back at the warehouse.”

  Uncle Clarence turns around and looks at me briefly, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he reaches up with both hands and starts to undo the buttons on his shirt. After the last button is undone, he pulls the shirt off, revealing an unbelievably muscular upper body covered by a white tank top.

  I always knew that Uncle Clarence was a very big guy, but I never knew that he was this big. I’m taken aback by his size, and I watch in shock as his muscles flex involuntarily when he hangs his shirt on the knob of the front door.

  Then, Uncle Clarence reaches down and lifts Derrick up off the floor. I gasp when I see the blood pouring from the junkie’s nose. It’s obvious that the punch has shattered the bones in Derrick’s nose to pieces, and he’s barely conscious as Uncle Clarence holds him up by the collar of his shirt.

  “Hey,” my uncle snips, lightly tapping Derrick on his cheek to wake him up a little. “You still with me in there? Wake up, Derrick. We need to talk before I have to leave.”

  Derrick struggles to open his eyes, but slowly he focuses in and looks at Uncle Clarence.

  “Good. There you go,” Uncle Clarence says with a sinister grin. “You know you fucked up, Derrick, and that’s good. It’s good that you can acknowledge that. Most people can’t accept responsibility for their actions. But that’s not you. You know you made a big mistake trying to steal from my brother. Nobody steals from Mr. Carter. You know that, so you knew that I’d be coming here to pay you this visit. I’d like to think that you made your peace with it, and I like that. Good for you, Derrick. That’s bold. That’s brave. It’s courageous to step up and accept your mistakes and accept the punishment that comes with trying to steal from Kelvin Carter. So, for that, I applaud you.”

  Just then, Uncle Clarence punches Derrick in the face a second time, then he throws him across the small room, sending him crashing onto the coffee table.

  There’s something inside of me that wants to say something, but I understand what’s happening right now. I know that this is a test for me. My father asked Uncle Clarence to bring me here to see what I would do about this brutal beating that I’m witnessing. He’s testing my loyalty right now, and it’s that realization that helps me bottle up my urges to intervene. I swallow hard, and watch as Uncle Clarence punches Derrick in the face a third, fourth, and fifth time. Blood splatters all over the dirty carpet, and I swear I can hear bones breaking with every hit.

  My heart is pounding, and I feel my whole body sweating, but I still don’t say anything. As much as I know that this is a test for me, I also recognize that this is an example for anyone else who would ever try to steal from my dad. He’s proving a point to me and to anyone else who hasn’t learned about his power, and now that Uncle Clarence is the new underboss, my father has all the muscle he needs to scare the living shit out of anyone who might think to try to play him in any way. I recognize this for what it is—we are all being taught a lesson.

  Derrick lays on his back in the middle of the floor with his eyes barely open. His breathing is shallow, and when he tries to breathe from his nose, I can see blood bubbling out of his nostrils and he starts to cough and gag.

  Uncle Clarence stands over his victim breathing heavily. I can see small trickles of sweat running down his back, and his body is more vascular than ever. The look on his face as he stares down at Derrick is unsettling to me. Even though I can see that he’s fatigued, I can also see that he’s enjoying this. Somehow, in some deranged way, he’s having fun. His mouth has a little smirk on it and I feel an uncomfortable tingle in my spine as I look at him, thinking that the whole thing is finally over. I’m wrong.

  Uncle Clarence leans over and lifts Derrick up off the floor, and begins to drag him into the terribly messy and smelly kitchen. Derrick’s legs have lost all life and Uncle Clarence literally has to drag him across the floor. I follow closely behind them, wondering what the fuck my uncle is doing, while also stepping over the disgusting trash that has taken over the floor of the apartment.

  “I couldn’t help but notice that your fridge is open, Derrick,” Uncle Clarence begins. I hear a bit of playfulness in his voice, and for the first time in my life, I ask myself, Is Uncle Clarence mentally deranged?

  As we approach the fridge, the smell is nauseating. All the cold air obviously left a long time ago, but the smell from the rotting Chinese food has decided to stick around. I don’t know how the hell Derrick could live in this shit because I’m gagging with every step I take. Uncle Clarence, however, seems unfazed by the stench.

  “You know,” Uncle Clarence continues, “it’s bad to leave your refrigerator door open. How about we close that up, huh?” Derrick doesn’t respond, but as I watch Uncle Clarence position his body in front of the fridge, I wish that he would.

  Derrick’s head is right in the path of the door as the rest of his body lays lifeless on the floor. He’s completely out of it, just barely breathing, but my uncle doesn’t show the tiniest bit of remorse as he grabs door to the fridge and slams it shut on Derrick’s head. His body jumps from the impact and the door flies back open, slamming into the counter. My eyes bulge and I feel like my breath is stuck in my chest, and it takes everything in me not to say something.

  Then, Uncle Clarence grabs the door and slams it a second time, a third time, and a fourth time. Derricks body jumps and jolts with each hit and I feel tears beginning to force their way to the front of my eyes. I’ve had all I can take, and my words will no longer allow themselves to be held in.

  “That’s enough!” I shout from the top of my lungs. My eyes sting from the tears that I’m trying to force back. “Goddamn it! That’s enough, Uncle Clarence. Fuck!”

  Uncle Clarence stops what he’s doing and stares at me. He has a look of surprise on his face, but smiles at me as if to say, finally.

  “What’s that, Junior?” he says with a grin.

  “Stop it! You made your point, Unc. I think he’s learned his fucking lesson. That’s enough. He’s had enough.”

  My uncle smiles at me again, and I don’t think I’ve ever been more creeped out. There’s something about his demeanor that is so ominous. It’s like he’s lacking the ability to feel bad for anybody. He doesn’t care one bit that he’s beaten this poor man to within an inch of his life, and he couldn’t care less that it bothers me. In fact, I’d bet that he’s enjoyed every bit of this. He loves what he’s done to Derrick, and he loves that I’m so upset about it.

  Uncle Clarence pulls the refrigerator door all the way open, and all I see is blood spilling out of Derrick’s head. He has completely stopped moving, and I’m convinced that he’s dead. Uncle Clarence, on the other hand, is not.

  As Derrick lays on the kitchen floor, Uncle Clarence walks over to his jacket that’s still hanging on the knob. He reaches inside his jacket pocket and pulls out a black
nine millimeter. My heart freezes in my chest as he walks over to Derrick. When he gets to the body, he looks over at me.

  “You’re right, Junior,” he says easily. “He has had enough.” He points the gun at the back of Derrick’s head.

  “No!” I scream, but my voice is drowned out by the sound of the gun going off.

  “Just calm the fuck down.”

  “Seriously, where did you get this fucking clown?”

  “Shut the fuck up and keep driving, Simon,” Uncle Clarence says as he stares into the mirror at his driver. Then, he turns his attention back to me. “Just relax. I don’t need you getting all worked up.”

  “Worked up? You just fucking shot him. What the fuck did you do that for? Why put him through all that shit just to shoot him in the end?”

  The memory of Uncle Clarence pulling the trigger comes back to me, as does the sight of all the blood exploding out of the back of Derrick’s head. I feel myself getting a little nauseous and turn to roll down the window. The air from outside comes rushing into the car as we drive down the highway going exactly five miles over the speed limit.

  “I’m really not in the mood to explain this to you, Junior, but I will, since you don’t seem to get it. Nobody steals from the Carters, and as far as Derrick is concerned, I have no idea what happened to him, and neither do you.”

  I look over at my uncle and I see the seriousness in his eyes. This is ridiculous, but it’s also a defining moment, and I have to pull it together and remember that this is all a test for me. I know that everything I do will be reported back to my father, so I have to put on a happy face, suck it up, and act like I’m a part of this crazy team. However, I know it’s going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.

  I take a deep breath and think about what I have to do. Uncle Clarence is still staring at me, waiting for my response, and I can see the driver, Simon, glancing at me periodically in the rearview mirror.

  “I hear what you’re saying,” I finally speak up. “But this isn’t right. This isn’t how the Carters do business.”

  “Junior, you have absolutely no idea what the hell you’re talking about. You have no clue how the Carters do business. You’ve been on the outside looking in for a long time, and you’ve never known the ins and outs of this family. Not to mention the fact that things have changed. Now that I’m number two, we’re not letting ourselves get stuck in the mud anymore. We’re doing bigger and better things, and not being distracted by our fucking emotions, or being blinded by our ridiculous love for some woman. The way we did things when Mikey was here is over.”

  I’m jolted by the mention of my Uncle Mikey’s name. He’s been locked up for almost seven months and I can barely recognize The Family anymore. I know we’d all be much better off if he was still around, and I can’t even explain how much it pisses me off that he’s gone. Thinking of how he was set up infuriates me, so I try to avoid the topic.

  “So, this is how it is now, Uncle Clarence?” I ask solemnly. “Are you my dad’s pit bull, sent to attack anyone who opposes him? Is this what the Carters are really about?”

  Uncle Clarence looks up at Simon and then back over at me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Junior. I haven’t attacked anyone. The Carters are about business. We’re about making money and expanding, and we do whatever we have to, to make sure that no one gets in our way. That’s all there is to it. If you plan on being a part of this family, you damn well better get used to it.”

  “I don’t plan on being a part of this family. Haven’t I made that clear by now? I just want the casino, and then I want to be left alone. I don’t want any part of this shit that you and my dad are doing. All this shit with the Russians, it’s all bullshit. I don’t want any of it. I just want the Red Chip, and I don’t understand why my dad has to be so fucking difficult about giving it to me.”

  “Oh listen to you. Do you hear yourself? Give it to you? That’s not the way shit works, nephew. You’re not given things in life, you have to earn that shit. Your dad might not need the money that the Red Chip brings in anymore, but he still built that casino.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about? He didn’t build it. He basically extorted it from the previous owner.”

  “You know what I mean, so don’t play stupid. No matter how you slice it, it’s still his casino, and there’s no way in hell he’s just gonna give it to you. You’re gonna have to earn it, and let me be the first to tell you, you’re off to a pretty shitty start.”

  The car pulls up to the front of the Royal Flush casino and Uncle Clarence and I exit. Instead of handing the keys to the valet, Simon stays in the car and goes to park it himself. Uncle Clarence tells him to just meet us upstairs when he’s done.

  The two of us silently make our way through the lobby, and I try to push the memory of Derrick’s murder out of my head. I know I have a job to do, but I feel baffled by how corrupt everything seems. I never knew that my father had been going to such extremes. I know how he was when I was a kid, and I always knew that he was capable of doing terrible things to people, but to have my uncle kill a man for attempting to steal from him just seemed so wrong. So unnecessary. He didn’t even actually steal the drugs, he just tried and got caught, yet he still lost his life because of it, and what’s more is that he didn’t just lose his life, he was beaten to a bloody fucking pulp—beaten to within an inch of his life, only to have that last inch snuffed out just when he thought it was all going to be over.

  All I can do is shake my head as we walk through the lobby and into the elevator. We make our way up without saying a word to each other. I just stand on the other side of the steel box with my head down and a scowl on my face. I can feel Uncle Clarence staring at me, probably with some dumb ass smirk smeared across his lips, but I don’t even bother looking up at him. What would be the point anyway? I can’t let him know what I’m thinking. I have to make them believe that I’m fine. I have to make them trust me so that I can get what I want out of all of this. I have to have something going on behind the scenes, just like my dad would do.

  The elevator comes to a stop and the two of us walk down the elegant—yet plain—hallway, silently. When we push through the doors, I see my father sitting at the head of the long conference table flanked by two black men wearing black suits and bow ties. They all look up at us simultaneously when we walk in.

  “Well, look who it is,” my father says with a broad smile. “I was starting to wonder about you two. Come on in and have a seat. We’re about to finish up soon.”

  Uncle Clarence nods at the two men, and they smile and nod in return without acknowledging me. I eyeball the two of them as I step up to the seat closest to where I’m already standing. I’ve never seen these two men before, but I notice that they seem to be focusing on some papers that are scattered in front of them and my dad. I can’t see what the papers are, but something tells me that they’re important. Both men are wearing thick glasses with even thicker frames, and they sit with perfect posture. They don’t look like the type of people my father would normally associate with, but he and Uncle Clarence seem to know them both well. I, on the other hand, am starting to feel a bit out of place as Uncle Clarence takes a seat directly next to the three of them and begins to examine the papers on the table as well, like he’s been in the room the whole time. I watch the four of them distrustfully and lean back in my chair, trying to gauge the situation and see how I can make myself more involved, like I’m part of the team, but before I can say anything, the image of Derrick’s bloody head flashes in my head and I’m forced to hold everything in.

  “Alright, so we take this amount right here, and we move it to the bank in the Caymans, plus the other five mil in another off-shore account. We just need to claim the first million or two, and then stash the rest. You know where everything needs to go, Eric,” my father says to the younger looking man sitting on his right. Eric nods, then Senior continues. “Look, just make sure you bring the new guy up to speed. I d
on’t want any bullshit happening with my money.”

  “I understand, Mr. Carter,” says the younger looking nerd with the thin mustache. He looks over at the older, clean-shaven nerd and nods to him.

  I can see that the older nerd is nervous. If he’s trying to hide the fact that he’s bothered by being in the same room as Kelvin Carter Senior, he’s doing a horrible job. I can see he’s tapping his foot nervously under the table and it’s causing his whole body to shake, and even though he has no clue who I am, he keeps glancing over at me, tensely. He may as well be sweating profusely and loosening his tie. The younger guy clears his throat, grabbing the nervous nerd’s attention, and stares at him angrily—get your shit together. The older nerd exhales loud enough for all of us to hear, then stops tapping his foot. This is my opportunity.

  “Why are you so nervous?” I say grimly, causing all four of them to look up from the papers, then my father, Uncle Clarence, and the younger nerd, look over at the nervous nerd.

  “What… I’m not,” the nervous nerd responds.

  “Then why were you tapping your foot so much? You had the whole table shaking a second ago. I know a nervous tick when I see one,” I respond. I have no clue who this man is, but I stare at him like his anxious foot tapping has thoroughly offended me.

  “I… I wasn’t… Nothing’s wrong,” the man stammers.

  “What the hell is the matter with you, Junior?” my father jumps in, saving the nervous nerd. “Cut Chris some slack, he’s new. He’s not used to handling multi-million dollar accounts like this. Eric here has been on my account for over half a year, so I trust that he’ll bring the new guy up to speed.”

  “Why do you need Chris if you have Eric?” I reply aggressively, still staring at baby-faced Chris.

  My father frowns at me and scrunches his forehead, completely annoyed. “What difference does it make to you? How about you don’t worry about how I handle my finances, alright. I’ll take care of it.”