by Carl Weber
I walked back over to Johnny. “What’s in the truck? And don’t fucking lie!”
“I . . . I don’t even know. My boss don’t tell me shit. I just pick up and drop off. That’s it. But he’s fucking crazy, and if y’all don’t kill me, either way I’m still a fuckin’ dead man, and so are you,” Johnny said, hunched over and clenching his stomach.
“What do you think is in it?” I peered at him.
“I honestly don’t know, but the only way to describe it is contraband,” he said.
“What the fuck is contraband?” Denny asked.
“The kinda shit you don’t report to the police when niggas like us steal it from you,” I explained, then signaled for Li’l Al. He raced over and took the keys from me, then climbed into the truck. I snatched Johnny away and tossed him to the opposite side so he wouldn’t get run over. Then, Denny and I ran to get into the van.
“Watch your back!” Johnny shouted after us. “Those crackers are gonna kill us all!”
“What the hell is he jibber-jabbering about?” Denny asked.
“Nothin’. Call Lex and tell him we got the truck,” I told Denny as we waited for Li’l Al to turn the truck around to follow us. “And tell that Israeli bastard that we don’t want a hundred grand a piece anymore. We want two hundred grand.”
Denny turned and looked at me. “You sure about that?”
“I’m a man with balls the size of coconuts,” I said, imitating Lex’s accent. “Of course I’m sure.”
KD
35
I woke up to the sound of the damn rooster crowing and Tyler fucking the hell out of some broad in his bedroom, which surprised me. He usually didn’t bring those heifers home. Ah, what the hell. It was his house too, and he was a grown-ass man, so he could fuck whoever he wanted.
I got out of the bed and took my morning dump before heading to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. While I was waiting for it to brew, I took out some taters, some eggs, and a slab of that thick country bacon for Patrick to cook for breakfast. I usually enjoyed my first cup of coffee while reading the New York Times on my tablet to see how the fake news had smeared our great president, but before I could even pull up that liberal piece of shit, I was hit by a notification that damn near gave me a heart attack.
“Shiiiiit,” I mumbled, looking down at my tablet again to make sure my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me. It only took me a second or two to realize they weren’t, and I hauled ass to the back of the house.
“Tyler!” I burst up into his room. I’d caught the boy on the downstroke, but I didn’t rightly care—at least until I saw that he wasn’t just fucking some gold-digging piece of white trash. He was fucking . . .
“Lizbeth!”
“Hey, KD.” Elizabeth covered herself, but she didn’t look embarrassed. In fact, I think she was kinda glad I knew they were fucking.
“Daddy, what is wrong with you?” Tyler yelled.
“I’m deeply sorry to have walked in on you two like this,” I said in my sincerest voice, “but Tyler, our truck’s gone missing. The damn GPS is off again.”
“You mean the truck going to New York and to that Greer fella in Connecticut?”
“That’s the truck.”
“Fuck, Daddy!” Tyler climbed out of bed and found his boxers, slipping them on. “Did you call Johnny?”
“No, but I’m gonna call his ass right now.” In my haste to tell Tyler, I hadn’t even thought about calling Johnny. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and found his number in my contacts. The fucking thing went straight to voicemail.
“I’m gonna kill that black son of a bitch,” I grumbled.
“You think he’s out getting some pussy again?” He glanced over at Elizabeth and tried to clean it up. “I mean . . . going to see that woman again? Sorry, Liz, I’ve got work to do.”
“Don’t be. You boys handle your business. Me and you have plenty of time to have fun in the sheets.” She got out of that bed naked as the day she was born and kissed my son like a damn movie star, then smiled at me, making me blush. God, I loved that gal. She picked up her clothes and headed to the bathroom.
“Tyler, as far as Johnny’s concerned, I don’t give a shit if he was getting some pussy or not. That don’t change the fact that we told him not to.”
“What we gonna do now?”
“I don’t rightly know. But we got to get that shipment to Greer.” I looked down at my phone again. “It’s six thirty here, which mean it’s eight thirty in New York. The first drop-off is nine o’clock. I guess we sit here and pray. If we’re lucky, he’ll be making the drop in thirty minutes.”
“And if not?”
We call Slick and tell him to kill that son of a bitch Johnny,” I said directly. “’Cause I’m gonna be out six million dollars. Five from Greer, and another million from the delivery to the people in New York.”
Vegas
36
“Fuck!”
It was a miracle I didn’t break through the sheetrock—or worse, hit a stud and break my hand—when I pounded the wall in the hallway. I’d just flipped out on Consuela’s selfish ass after she came to tell me that Nevada hadn’t come back to her hotel suite. He’d been gone all night. I was usually better at keeping my rage in check, but my son’s disappearance had me on tilt, and it was better to hit the wall than to hit Consuela. Truthfully, though, I knew I shouldered some of the blame myself. I should have been over there checking on him every day.
“It’s gonna be okay, son. This isn’t your fault,” Pop said as if he knew exactly what I was thinking. I hadn’t even realized he’d followed me out of the room.
“Then whose fault is it? I’m his father. I should have gone looking for him yesterday when Ma came home and said he left the hotel.”
“We didn’t know he’d run away then,” Pop said calmly.
“We would have if Consuela had called to say he didn’t come home last night, instead of waiting until noon. My son’s been missing for twenty-four hours.”
“I know, Vegas. Kids run away from home, but they usually come back. Are you forgetting that you ran away when you were fifteen?” he reminded me. “Was that my fault?”
I turned slowly toward him. “Yeah, actually, it was your fault. You blamed me for stealing parts for my car when it was that sheisty-ass parts manger you had working for you.”
He chuckled, lowering his head. “Yeah, that was my fault, wasn’t it? That guy was robbing us blind.”
“You damn right he was, and you blamed me.” I didn’t want to, but I laughed. Once again, my old man had used humor on me to lighten the mood.
He placed a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll find him. I promise you that.”
He gestured for me to follow him into his home office, where he went straight to the bar and poured two large drinks. He handed me one, then sat down at his desk. “Drink this. It’ll help calm you down so you can think straight.”
I gulped down half of the smooth liquor, then took a seat in a chair in front of his desk. “I really should’ve checked up on him more. I just didn’t want him to see me and Consuela fight all the time.”
“We’re not going to worry about what could’ve been done. Right now, we’re going to focus on what you’re gonna do once we find him. And again, we are going to find him,” Pop emphasized. “I’ve got Junior pinging his phone. We should know something soon.”
“Thanks, Pop,” I said, finishing off my drink. “I guess we should go back in there with Ma and Consuela.” I moved to stand up, but he shook his head to stop me.
“Let your mother deal with her for a while. There’s something we need to talk about.”
“What’s that?” I settled back in the seat.
“You, of all my children, have always been your own man. But moving forward, there has to be some sort of resolution between you and Consuela. She’s not the type of woman to be ignored.” Pop spoke in that do-as-I-say voice he used when he was making a demand, not a suggestion. “Sometimes a man has
to make sacrifices for his family. You need to do this for your son.”
“Are you suggesting I sleep with her?” Obviously, my mother had told him what Consuela wanted. I guess they really didn’t keep secrets from each other.
“It’s not like you never took one for the team before. Hell, you spent five years in prison for a crime I committed.”
“That was different.”
“Was it? You went to jail because it was the best thing for the family. You gonna tell me that sleeping with your son’s mother to keep Nevada from running away again or being shipped off to a boarding school isn’t just as worth it?” He was dead serious, and I hated to admit it, but he made a good point.
“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”
“I can’t believe we didn’t have it when she first showed up at the house with him a few years back. We all have our idiosyncrasies, Vegas. I’ve been where you’re at with Donna and Lou.”
I stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate, which he didn’t. So I asked, “Did you sleep with Aunt Donna to keep the peace? Because I know she offered it to you.”
“Hell no!” Pop said adamantly. “But that was different. The circumstances were different.”
“How? How was it different?” I was not about to let him off the hook. This had been a source of contention between us for years.
“You’re not afraid of Consuela or Marie. I love Chippy more than life itself, but I’m also afraid of her.”
I chuckled my understanding. “Ma can be a little scary, can’t she?”
“You have no idea. I’ve woken up to a gun in my face more than once.” Pop said it so sincerely that I didn’t think he was exaggerating. I’d have that image in my head for a while.
“Now,” he continued, “back to my grandson. Vegas, Nevada only has two years of high school left. We’re not talking about a life sentence. I know it’s been a few years, but Consuela’s not an ugly woman.”
“No, she’s not, but can you hear yourself?”
“Loud and clear. The question is, do you hear me?” He leaned forward, looking me in the eyes.
“I do.” I couldn’t believe I was even considering what he was saying. “What about Marie? What the hell am I supposed to tell her?”
“You’re a smart man. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
My phone rang with an unfamiliar number. I answered it without hesitation, thinking it could be Nevada.
“Hello?”
“Vegas, man, it’s Johnny.” His speech sounded slurred.
“Johnny Brooks?” I could feel Pop watching me.
“Yeah,” he confirmed. “I need to see you, brother. Can . . . can we meet up?”
“I’m handling something with my son right now, Johnny. Let me hit you back after I deal with this.”
“Vegas, you . . . you don’t understand. This is important, man. I really need to talk to you,” Johnny pleaded.
“J, you been drinking?”
“A little. But only because of what’s happening. I need to see you, man.”
I liked Johnny, I really did, but I couldn’t deal with his drinking at the moment. “I’m sorry, man, but I gotta take care of this thing with my son.”
“Aw, damn. A’ight, handle that. But when you finish, man, hit me back. Please. It’s life or death.” Johnny hung up.
I held my phone for a second, totally confused by our conversation.
“That was Johnny Brooks?” Pop asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “He’s drinking again.”
“That’s too bad. He came by the shop a few weeks ago, looking for you. I offered him a drink, but he turned me down. Said he’d been sober for a couple of years.”
“Well, he ain’t sober now. What’d he want, anyway? Money?”
“No. He said he had a good job. We were supposed to talk, but he saw fat-ass KD Shrugs and hauled ass out of there.”
What the hell was KD Shrugs doing in New York and at our shop? I wondered.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think KD and Johnny knew each other,” Pop said.
“They do. I helped Johnny get a job with Tyler when he got outta rehab,” I told him.
“Tyler Shrugs?” Pop raised his voice.
“Yeah, he was calling around, looking for reliable drivers to drive shipments across the border. Johnny was sober at the time, so I thought it was okay. He’s been driving with them for over three years.”
“Dammit.” Pop exhaled hard. “I wish you had told me this.”
“What’s wrong? I knew you didn’t want Johnny driving for us, so I sent him down there with Tyler. What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is KD Shrugs and his cronies may represent the biggest threat to our business that we’ve ever seen.”
“Pot-belly KD Shrugs? He’s not even a sheriff anymore.” I shrugged. “How’s he gonna hurt us?”
“He’s not a sheriff, but Tyler’s moving up the ranks of the Texas Highway Patrol fast. With his father’s guidance, which could be more dangerous.”
“So, what’s his problem, anyway?”
“KD doesn’t like that we’ve been calling the shots the past few years when it comes to distribution on the East Coast and in the South. There was a time when that was his job, and we had to bow down and kiss his ass to move product.”
“Fuck that redneck bastard and his Barney Fife son,” I said, starting to get pissed off.
“I feel the same way, but don’t sleep on him. He’s had a taste of power, and we both know how intoxicating that can be. He’s been putting together a war chest, using some secret business that a lot of our friends are concerned about. With Trump in the White House, all of a sudden KD’s gaining political favor.”
“What kind of business?”
“I don’t know, but whatever it is, it’s a moneymaker. He’s been using our marijuana shipments and protections as a Trojan horse to move it.”
I glanced over at my father. I hadn’t seen him look so worried since my Uncle Larry escaped from the nuthouse two years ago. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was more concerned about this shit than he was about Nevada.
“Do we have a plan?” Pops had taught me to have a plan and a backup plan. I’d been in situations with him where even the backup had a backup plan.
“I shut down our weed operation in hopes that it might slow him down, but he has other clients. It also might just have pissed him off and made him more determined. I’ve also been working with the new president of the National Sheriffs Association, Derrick Hughes out of Fulton County, Georgia,” Pop said. Something in my old man’s voice didn’t sound right.
“Derrick’s a cop, but he’s a good brother,” I replied. “So what’s he gonna do for us?”
“He took a few other sheriffs down to have a talk with KD. The sheriffs from Arkansas and Tennessee made it home just fine, but Derrick and Sheriff Andy Wilkins from Augusta never made it back. They vanished—along with their car.”
“What the fuck happened to them?” This was not good at all.
“Nobody knows. Their cell phones were found in the swamp near Shreveport.”
“And you think it was Shrugs?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
“I know it was KD Shrugs, and so do the other sheriffs. We just can’t prove it. But I’ll get to the bottom of it. I hired someone to find out what he’s up to. We should know something in the next day or so, but . . .” He paused when there was a knock on the door. “Come in.”
Junior walked in with a frown on his face.
“You ping my son’s phone?” I asked him.
“Yep, but nothing came back. Either Nevada’s battery’s dead, or he’s turned off his phone.” Junior took a seat next to me.
“Okay,” Pop said. “Now I’m worried.”
Rio
37
I was exhausted in every way possible: mentally, physically, emotionally. I’d stayed in Margaret’s room the entire night. Most of that time, she drifted in and out of
consciousness, or maybe she was just sleeping. Hell, I didn’t really know. Either way, she wasn’t alert. Her hand held mine the entire time, and when I shifted slightly to remove my fingers from hers, her eyes fluttered open.
“No, don’t leave me,” she whispered. “Not yet.”
“I have to go . . . Miss Margaret.” I was still unsure of what to call her. I mean, despite the recent revelation, I didn’t feel comfortable calling her Mama or anything like that. Those epithets were reserved for the woman who’d raised me.
“Can you come back tomorrow? Roman will be here, and I’d like for you to meet . . . your brother,” she pleaded. “I’m dying. I know I am. Please, I need to tell both of you.”
“Tell me now,” I said.
“Tomorrow, with Roman,” she whispered and drifted off again.
It wasn’t much information, but she had at least acknowledged that Roman was my brother. No more wondering about that.
I slipped out of the room when she was finally in a deep sleep, and I spent the ride home struggling with this new reality. Who was I? At one point, I reached for my phone to call the one person that I usually told everything, but I put it down when I realized this wasn’t something I could say to her over the phone. This news would affect Paris too, and I had to give it to her face to face.
I pulled into our driveway and parked behind a black SUV that I didn’t recognize. Inside, I heard my parents, along with Junior and Vegas, talking in the living room. Then I heard Consuela’s voice and realized it must have been her car outside. Even if I was ready to talk to my parents about Roman Johnson, now wasn’t the time.
I was about to make a beeline upstairs to my room when Paris appeared.
“Where the hell have you been? I been calling your ass forever.”
“Sorry. I had to take care of something important. I had my phone on Do Not Disturb.”
“For the entire damn night?”
“I said sorry, Paris.” I turned to leave, but she snapped at me.
“Look, I saw Sebastian’s little IG post saying his heart is in New York, but just because y’all are fucking again doesn’t mean you get to ignore your family. There’s important shit going on, you know.”