by Roy Glenn
“Right.”
“Cops ask this family questions all the time. We talked about that,” Black said.
“I know, Daddy.” Michelle kissed her mother on the cheek. “Thank you for being honest with me.” She stood up, hugged Black and then she left their bedroom.
Black sat down next to Shy and took her hand in his. She kissed his hand.
“Our little girl is growing up,” Shy said, and thought about Barbara.
“Yeah, I know.” He had the same thought. “Faster than I’d like.”
Shy kissed him on the cheek. “I’ve been telling you that for years.” When she stood up, Black did too; he followed her out the room and down the stairs. “You ready, Chuck?”
“Just waiting for you,” he said, and followed them out of the house. He got in the SUV and started it up.
“I’ll see you later,” Shy said, and Black closed the door. Then he stood and watched them drive off before going back in the house.
“Let’s go for a ride, William.”
He stood up. “Where we going, Boss?”
“To the Bronx.” Black held the door opened for William and then followed him to the SUV. “A place off the Concourse called Rincón Tropicana.”
When they arrived, Black went inside and asked to speak to Eddie Dominguez. He had known Eddie since the days when he worked for Andre. When he heard that Mike Black was waiting to see him, Eddie got scared. Going back years or not, Mike Black coming to see you was never a good thing.
“Is Bobby with him?” he asked the hostess on the way to the table. “Black!” Eddie smiled and said when he saw that Bobby wasn’t with him.
Black stood up and the men shook hands before they sat down at the table.
“What can you tell me about Ezequiel Simmonds?”
“He’s a hatchet man for the Comodoro’s here in New York. They need something dirty or violent, he’s their guy. Other than that, not much. I try to give the Comodoro’s a wide berth. They are bad news.” Both men sat back as a waitress put a drink on the table for Black and one for Eddie. “I hear he’s been asking around about you,” he said once the waitress had left.
“What have people been telling him?”
“That you’re out and he needs to talk to Rain.”
Black shot his drink and stood up. “Thanks, Eddie,” he said and walked away. “But he hasn’t been anywhere near Rain,” Black said aloud, as William followed Black out of Rincón Tropicana.
“Where to now, Boss?”
“Take me home. I need to get mentally prepared for Martin’s fundraiser,” Black said, because he hated going to those things.
“Sounds like you’re really looking forward to it.”
“You got jokes today.”
Chapter Twenty-five
“You look nice, Daddy,” Michelle said of her father when he came into the living room, dressed in a Stefano Ricci tuxedo, crystal-embellished silk bow tie and Giorgio Armani white shirt, that was accented with Konstantino eighteen carat white gold-plated cufflinks and Santoni Ribona lace-up dress shoes.
“Thank you.”
The entire family had gathered in the living room to see Black and Shy off for their evening out. M was feeding Mansa, while Easy played with his Nintendo Switch.
“You always did clean up real good,” Joanne said, as Shy came down the stairs.
She looked so elegant as she seemed to glide down the steps in a red Brandon Maxwell Asymmetric Gown with a side slit and a sweeping sash that draped from one shoulder and cascaded down the stairs behind her. On her feet, she wore an alluring pair of Gianvito Rossi Portofino ankle-strap open toe sandals with a four inch-covered heel.
“You look spectacular in that gown,” Black said of his wife. She did a slow turn for her assembled audience.
“Very nice, Sandy.”
“Thank you, Mommy.”
“Doesn’t your mother look pretty, Easy?” M asked.
“You look pretty Mommy,” he said, barely looking away from his game.
“You are truly gonna bring the drama in that dress, Mommy,” Michelle said, as her parents moved toward the door. “You two have a good time.”
“Good night, baby girl,” Black said, and she gave him a hug as Shy came to the door.
“I’m counting on you to look out for your brothers.”
“I know, Mommy.”
“And don’t let Easy stay up all night.”
“I won’t.”
“Come on, Cassandra,” Black said, and held the door open for Shy.
“And you don’t stay up all night either.”
“Go.” She pointed. “Have a good time and don’t worry about us. Everything will be fine here,” Michelle said and went in the house thinking, two grandmas and an army outside, it’s always quiet here.
“What did you find out today?” Shy asked once they had driven away from the house.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I know that you didn’t just sit around the house, playing with the kids. So, where did you go and what did you find out?”
“I went to see Eddie Dominguez to see what he could tell me about Ezequiel Simmonds, which wasn’t much. He said Simmonds has been asking about me and from what Eddie tells me that everybody’s told him that he needs to talk to Rain.”
“I know you talked to her about it, what does she say about him?”
“Rain never heard of him. He nor anybody connected with the Comodoro’s has come anywhere near her, and that bothers me.”
“Why use Valencia to get to you? That’s what bothers me.”
“That I can understand. If you wanted to get to me and for whatever reason you don’t want to go through Rain, approaching me through the company makes sense.” Black thought back to the first time that he met Valencia. She dropped Ezequiel Simmonds’ name as part of her introduction that night.
I believe we have a mutual friend.
“And whatever this is, he’s had Valencia working on it for the last year.”
“What do you think it is?”
“I know what I hope it is, I hope that they just wanna move their product through Freeport.”
“But if that were all it was, why involve me?”
“I don’t know.”
“And that’s what bothers me.”
With its stunning historical detail, European-inspired opulence and stunning views of Fifth Avenue and Central Park, the rich, regal aesthetics of The St. Regis Roof Ballroom was the venue for that evening’s announcement of Martin Marshall’s run for the soon-to-be vacant Senate seat.
As the wait staff wandered around with trays of Caribbean lobster, seared crab cakes, Prince Edward Island mussels and Cajun seared scallop appetizers, the assembled guests talked politics and speculated on whether the event was just another cancer awareness fundraiser or was the keynote there to announce something big.
When dinner was served, it was a meal fit for the kings and queens of the city. there was roasted free range or chipotle marinated chicken breast and guava barbeque-braised short ribs. You could choose an eight ounce filet mignon or a grilled ten ounce New York steak with smoked bacon and mushrooms; grain fed veal medallion or pan roasted beef filet and for those who were looking for something unique, there was chocolate mint-crusted rack of lamb.
Seafood lovers could choose the roasted Caribbean lobster, pan seared black bass, seared yellow tail snapper filet or steamed mussels, all served with lobster mashed potatoes, caramelized cipollini onions, sweet potato and spinach mash.
After the fabulous meal was consumed and enjoyed, the band played and the political positioning among the powerful and well connected continued in earnest over cocktails. It was during that time that Martin was able to slip away and met privately in a suite with Black and their friend and longtime business partner, Wei Jiang, a Chinese-American businessman.
Although his legitimate business concerns included partnerships in wholesale supply firms, factories, banks, employment agencies and the entertainment industry, We
i Jiang’s business was money laundering, credit card fraud, software piracy, the illegal import and export of legal goods and drug trafficking from the Golden Triangle into Europe and North America.
Wei also had contacts with some high ranking members of the government in Beijing, so he was there as an unofficial representative of the government.
“China wishes to reduce environmental degradation, increase the share of consumption in national income, promote productivity growth, and reduce waste,” Wei said to Martin.
“That is the stated policy, yes, but the real purpose is to extend Chinese influence in South America and Africa,” Martin said, and Black, as he usually did, remained silent until he had something to say as opposed to his colleagues who enjoyed debating policy for the sake of debating policy. At the end of the debate, it would always be agreed that what was important was the money they all stood to make.
“China’s economy is expected to surpass that of all individual European countries in terms of GDP within the next two decades,” Martin said.
“And that is good for all of us,” Black pointed out and then he brought it back to why they were there. “So, what can we do for you?”
“China, like other textile and apparel producers, will benefit from the phaseout and elimination at the end of quotas that have restricted international trade in these products. These quotas have artificially restricted China’s apparel exports to the United States since the first bilateral textile agreement was signed,” Wei said, knowing not only Black’s influence with Martin, but Shy’s interest in the textile and apparel business.
“Since China is a lower-cost producer than many other current suppliers of apparel to the United States, it almost certainly will displace at least some apparel exports from other countries once those restrictions are phased out,” Martin said.
“Yes, however, Senator Riedel has consistently voted in opposition to the easing of those restrictions.”
“Should I decide to run, I can assure you that you would be able to count on my vote.”
Wei stood up and held out his hand. “Then I see no reason why you wouldn’t have my support,” Wei paused. “Should you decide to run, of course.”
“Of course,” Martin said, and they shook on it.
While the meeting was wrapping up, Shy was at the bar getting a drink when a man walked up and started talking to her.
“I hate coming to these things,” he said, and leaned against the bar. “Whiskey neat,” he said, when the bartender came and stood before him.
“Then why do you come?” Shy asked without turning to look in his direction.
“It’s kind of my job. I’m a political bundler. I’m the guy you hire to collect contributions from donors on behalf of a campaign.”
“I see,” Shy said to him, as the bartender returned with her drink.
“I’m Jordan Bryson. And you are?”
“Not interested,” Shy said, and walked away with her drink. She hadn’t been back at the table long before Black returned, and it wasn’t too much longer after that when the lights dimmed, and the speeches began.
“At this time, it is my great pleasure and privilege to introduce to you tonight’s keynote speaker, Congressman Martin Marshall.”
Once the applause quieted, Martin stepped to the microphone. “Moses was walking down the street when he bumped into George W. Bush. ‘Hello,’ Bush said. ‘Nice weather we’re having, huh?’ Moses took one look at the President, turned, and ran in the other direction. The next day Moses was walking down the same street and there was Bush. Again, he tried to initiate a conversation. The same thing happened. Moses turned and ran away again. Bush was tired of this bizarre treatment, so the next time Moses ran away from him, Bush followed. When he caught up, he asked Moses what was wrong. Moses said, ‘The last time I talked to a bush … I spent forty years in the desert,” Martin said to a room full of laughter and applause.
“But seriously though my friends, we need to talk. We need to have a constructive conversation about the things that matter to people like you and I,” he said, and began to list his accomplishments. “We’ve been able to do all that in just a few short years. But the work isn’t done. There is still a lot of work that needs to be done before we can rest in the promised land.” Martin paused for the smattering of applause.
“But what about the rest of our great state? That is the next conversation that needs to be had. Can we take what we’ve been able to accomplish together and take it statewide? That is the question,” he said, holding up one finger and then Martin went on to restate his accomplishments in futuristic terms that would apply statewide to a round of applause. Then he quieted the crowd.
“Now with all due respect for retiring Senator, Nicholas Riedel, I have to say, quite frankly, his voting record on the things that you and I care about is dismal at best and disgraceful at worst. So, with that, I’d like to say thank you sir for your service to the great state of New York, but it’s time for you to go!”
The crowd rose to their feet and gave the retiring senator a long and loud send off. Once again, Martin raised his hands to calm his supporters.
“So, the question still stands. Can we take what we’ve been able to accomplish together over the last few years in this city that we all love and build on those successes for the entire state of New York?” He paused and looked around the ballroom. “Well, the answer to that question is yes. As a great man once said, yes, we can. Yes, my friends, we can. And that is why I am here to announce the formation of an exploratory committee.” Martin smiled and leaned on the podium. “That’s right folks, I am thinking about running to proudly represent the great state of New York in the United States Senate.”
Everybody in the room rose to their feet and gave Martin a thunderous standing ovation.
Chapter Twenty-six
Geno put his pants on and then he picked up the tray and put it outside the room. He looked down the hall, waved to his man at the elevator and then went back in the room with Valencia. They hadn’t left the room since they checked in a few days ago, and that seemed to be alright with the two of them.
She doesn’t leave your sight until you see me, was what the boss of The Family told Geno to do, and he had no problem following orders. Especially since Valencia had been naked just about the entire time she’d been there.
When he shut the door, Geno turned and looked at Valencia standing in front of the bed. She licked her lips, put two fingers in her mouth and let her hands roam over her body. Her nipples were hard, so she pinched and squeezed them a little bit. Geno smiled, took off his pants and started for the bed. Valencia was just about to crawl up on the bed when there was a knock at the door.
“Who is it?” Geno asked, reaching out to caress Valencia’s thigh.
“Adrianna Grey. I’m looking for Valencia DeVerão.”
Damn. “Just a minute, Adrianna,” she said, and grabbed the hotel robe. As Geno picked up his clothes and went in the bathroom, Valencia opened the door.
“Good morning, Adrianna,” she said, and without speaking Adrianna walked by her, wheeling a large Away suitcase, satchel over her shoulder and an arm full of file folders. “What are you doing here?” Valencia asked, angrily.
“It’s afternoon, and you have work to do,” she said, walking straight to the desk in the suite and began laying out the work she’d brought with her. “You haven’t been to the office in days, so I brought the office to you.”
“You’re right, as always” she said, and calmed herself. With everything that was going on in her world, she was lucky that she had Adrianna to keep the business going in her absence.
“And I stopped by your house and I got you some clothes and other essentials that you need.”
“Thank you, Adrianna. What do you have for me?” Valencia asked as she opened the suitcase.
“I brought you the contracts for RSK, Inc, Prestige Capital, and Structural Engineering Contractors.”
“That the one the Pooja was
working on?” Valencia asked holding up a Brunello Cucinelli belted denim jumpsuit that Adrianna had brought for her.
“No, Structural Engineering is Drew’s account. Pooja is working with Atlantic Preservation Systems. Her proposal is in this file, awaiting your review and signature,” she said, holding it up. “I rescheduled all of your in-person appointments, and once you have reviewed the calls that you need to return, I will schedule those appropriately.”
“Thank you, Adrianna,” Valencia said, standing in front of the mirror, holding the Mosaic Blue Zuhair Murad sheer long-sleeve mock-neck wide leg jumpsuit in front of her.
“I think that’s everything,” Adrianna said, and once they had completed their review, she left Valencia to her work and Geno finally came out of the bathroom.
While Valencia spent the rest of the afternoon working, Geno stretched out on the bed, watched television and watched Valencia walk around the room and talk on her cell and the room phone, sometimes both at the same time. They were so different, he thought as he listened to her conduct business.
“In addition to the increase in productivity, better accessibility and an engineering support team in real time, you’ll receive updates every two weeks, not every two years.”
He wondered could he live in her world and she in his. As he listened to Valencia handle her business, Geno was reminded of how it was in their first act. He remembered feeling out of place in her world. He had gone from scared straight drug dealer to the guy who knew somebody, so he went out of his way to keep the world that he lived in away from her.
“Another huge benefit, and I believe the most significant factor in decision making is your return on investment,” Valencia said, as she paced around the room. “That’s excellent, Mr. Schwanke. I’ll have Mr. Riviera contact Ms. Carigliano, and they can hammer out the details.” Valencia pumped her fist in victory. “I am looking forward to meeting you as well,” she said, and ended the call. “Yes!” she shouted, tossed her phone on the bed and jumped on Geno. She took his face into her hands and kissed him.
“I take it that went well?”