The Family Business 5

by Carl Weber

  “It’s not about the money. With your mother’s age and her weakened state, the transplant coordination team feels that she wouldn’t be able to survive the surgery even if a donor was located,” Dr. Ford said.

  “What are you telling me? Are you saying my mother is going to die?” My eyes were welling up as I waited for his answer. I didn’t even care that my boys could see me crying.

  He nodded slowly, confirming my fears. “I’m saying that we’ve done all we can at this point.”

  I looked back at my mother. She looked so frail and small in that bed. “How much longer does she have?”

  “Based on her numbers right now, I would say two weeks, give or take.”

  Two weeks. That’s all I had left to spend with my mother. Fourteen days. I should have been spending every last second with her, but instead, I’d been out trying to get the money for a surgery that she was too sick to have.

  “Shit,” I whispered, wiping away tears. “I gotta tell Aunt Coretta.”

  “Would you like me to talk to her sister for you?” Dr. Ford offered.

  “No, I’ll do it.” My mother wouldn’t want her sister to hear about this from a stranger. It would be the hardest conversation I’d ever had, but I owed that much to the woman I loved more than life itself.

  “Rome.” I felt Denny’s hand on my shoulder. “Let’s go get some air.”

  “Nah, man, I can’t leave her.” I shook my head and went back to sit by the bed. “I’ma be here with her for the next fourteen days. I ain’t going nowhere.”

  “Listen, I’ve given her a fairly strong sedative. She’s going to be asleep for the remainder of the night. Why don’t you go home, get some clothes, and come back in the morning?” Dr. Ford suggested. “If anything happens, and I’m saying that’s a big if, then we’ll call you.”

  “A’ight,” I said reluctantly. “But I’m coming back tonight.”

  “I understand,” Dr. Ford said.

  I leaned over and kissed my mother’s forehead. “I’ll be back in a little while, Mama.”

  Vegas

  50

  While the rest of my family headed to the house, I went out to look for Johnny Brooks. He didn’t answer the number he’d called me from earlier, so I hit up some of the spots he used to hang at. No one had seen or heard from him. It was like he’d vanished, which worried me. Had KD’s people already gotten to him? I was tired and about to call it a night when he finally sent a text, telling me where to meet him.

  “Lemme get a rum and Coke,” I said as I sat down at the bar at Benny’s, a spot we used to frequent back in the day. Even though it was damn near two in the morning, there was still a good number of patrons inside the dark hole-in-the-wall, shooting pool and listening to outdated music coming from an old jukebox.

  Benny Jr., the bartender who also happened to be the owner, mixed my drink and placed it in front of me. He leaned over and whispered, “Why don’t you take that drink into my back room?”

  “Johnny?” I asked.

  He nodded, sliding a key across the bar.

  I got up and walked behind the bar. The key he’d given me opened the door to the back room, where I walked in and saw Johnny sitting at a small table, nursing a bottle of Jack. I locked the door behind me.

  “You drinking? I thought you stopped a couple of years ago.”

  “Man, I did, but I’m dealing with some shit right now. I gotta cope. Hell, you may wanna get a refill yourself,” Johnny said, nervously shaking his head.

  “Johnny, what the hell is going on?” I asked.

  “I just can’t believe this. You ain’t . . . I mean, nobody would even believe this. I don’t know how to tell you.”

  “I’m gonna need you to calm down and tell me what the hell is going on.” I pulled up a chair and sat at the table with him.

  Johnny looked around nervously like there were people listening through the walls or something. “Man, listen. I’m in trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble?” I folded my arms and got straight to the point. “Trouble with KD Shrugs?”

  Johnny winced like even the sound of the guy’s name scared him. “Yeah, man, he’s after me and . . . and when he finds me, he–he’s gonna kill me,” Johnny stammered.

  “What did you do?”

  “I know too much.”

  “Were you driving that fucking truck?” I grabbed his arm and forced him to look me in the eye.

  He held eye contact for half a second then dropped his head, looking down at the table. “It wasn’t just that truck.”

  “Damn it, Johnny. Did you kill those girls? And Lex?”

  He snatched his arm away. “Hell no! I ain’t kill nobody. You know me better than that,” He sounded offended. “And I don’t know who did. Some young boys jacked me. But KD don’t care about that. He’s just gonna kill me.”

  “No, he’s not.”

  “Vegas, you don’t know what he’s capable of. KD is a sick man.”

  Finally, we were getting somewhere. I needed Johnny to open up and give me whatever information he had on KD Shrugs. This wasn’t just about Johnny—this was about my family’s safety.

  “What’s KD up to?”

  “We been friends a long time, Vegas, and I know I fuck up a lot, but this . . . you . . . your family . . . you’re the only one who can help me. LC Duncan is the only motherfucker KD is afraid of, and I’m not even sure he’s afraid of him anymore.” Johnny’s face was full of terror. “I need you to promise you’ll protect me.

  “You know I got your back, and my dad does too. You’re like family. Now, tell me what KD is doing.”

  Johnny looked around again then leaned in and spoke in a whisper. “That sick bastard is selling girls, Vegas. He’s shipping them all over the country and making a fortune.”

  “Sex trafficking?” That shit didn’t surprise me. KD Shrugs was a scumbag, for sure. But then Johnny blew my mind when he explained how much deeper it really was.

  “Nah, not that. That’s his front, believe it or not. This is something way different. He’s taking them and fattening them up like pigs for slaughter. Prostitutes, working girls, runaways, especially illegals. He brings them to his place and cleans them up, feeds them good, gives them medical care and the whole nine. Makes them healthy. It’s like a fucking lab. He tests ’em and uses ’em for whatever he can. Blood, plasma, bone marrow. Rich motherfuckers with sick relatives call him, and he’ll get them what they need.

  “He’s saving lives out here, but for a big-ass price and at the expense of other people’s lives. There’s a sick bastard in New York doing womb transplants. That’s one of his biggest clients. This ain’t no sex trafficking.” Johnny’s eyes were wet like he was tearing up just thinking about it. “He’s selling these girls to the highest bidder, knowing that they might be killed for their body parts.”

  My mouth fell open. Johnny was right; I couldn’t believe the shit that he was telling me. It was something straight out of a horror movie. Now I understood why Kia’s sister had been so sick when we got her. I wondered what they had taken from her. If we hadn’t gotten her out of there, who knows how badly they would have carved her up.

  I also now realized why Johnny was so afraid. If what he was saying was true and he had proof, he was a walking dead man. Pop was going to have a fit when he heard this. It was worse than anything that he was probably thinking KD was into.

  “Shit, Johnny, do you have any kind of proof?” I asked.

  “I do, but if I give it to you . . .”

  “I give you my word.”

  He reached into his pocket and slid a jump drive across the table, motioning for me to take it. “Guard that with your life.”

  “Come on. Let’s get out of here. I’m taking you to one of our safe houses,” I told him.

  When we stepped out of the back room, Johnny insisted on one more drink at the bar. I let him get a shot. The poor guy looked like he needed it after everything he’d just revealed to me. He threw back the shot, and t
hen we headed out the front door.

  “That was probably the last drink I’ll have. I just wanted—” Before Johnny could say another word, shots rang out, then the sound of screeching tires.

  I ducked down to take cover while trying to see where the commotion was coming from. Everything happened so fast that I didn’t have time to retaliate.

  “Shit! Johnny, you a’ight, man?”

  When he didn’t answer, I looked over and saw that he’d been shot. I eased over to his body. Blood was seeping through his shirt and onto the pavement where he was lying on his back. I took off my own shirt and placed it on the open wound on his chest.

  His eyes met mine, and the last thing he said before closing his eyes one final time was, “You . . . gotta . . . stop . . . KD.”

  KD

  51

  “A’ight, tell me that you’ve got something for me,” I said, walking into Dr. Baker’s office in Building 5. He was sitting at his desk, looking through some folders, while Elizabeth sat at a small table with her laptop.

  “Not yet. We’re still working on it.” Elizabeth swiveled around in the chair to face me.

  “Well, then work faster. I gotta get this guy Greer what he needs. It’s the difference between steak and hamburger around here, goddammit!” I didn’t usually yell at her, but I’d promised Greer results, and he’d promised me my old life back. “What about the two new girls I got from Peter Lee? They’re Chinks. Can’t we use them?”

  “Not all Asian people have the same blood type. And I’m pretty sure Greer’s daughter isn’t Asian,” she lectured. “It’s the same way that all white people or all black people don’t have the same type. It’s about genetic makeup, not race. You know that.”

  “Right now, Lizbeth, I don’t know shit other than we need to find another match for this man’s daughter.” I exhaled as I heaved my body into one of the empty chairs. “It looks like I’m just gonna have to figure out a way to get the other one back from LC. And somebody please tell me how the fuck I’m gonna do that.”

  I was surely regretting having turned her over to LC. His little million was nothing compared to the money Greer would be willing to pay—not to mention the endorsement he could get me from the President of the United States that would put me back on top. I’d sent Slick to try to get her back, but the Duncans had a shitload of security around them at all times in New York, so I was doubtful he would succeed.

  “That’s not going to work either,” Dr. Baker said. “We took so much blood from her in such a short amount of time that her organs aren’t viable to use at this point. Maybe in a couple of months she will be okay, but not now.”

  I remembered the pretty girl that was with LC’s grandson. “What about her half-nigger sister? Can we use her?”

  “You said she was half black, which means they have different fathers. There’s no guarantee they would be a match,” Elizabeth pointed out.

  “I’m sorry,” Dr. Baker said. “The probability of finding another match within the next few days is unlikely. I’ve had people taking blood samples from migrants at the border checkpoints for two days.”

  “Goddammit, Baker! I’m getting sick and fucking tired of you shooting me down!” I stepped toward him, totally willing to take all my frustration out on his skinny ass. “Stop fucking being so negative and find me a solution! Double the motherfuckers up. Do whatever it takes!”

  “Calm down, KD. He’s not being negative. You just don’t want to hear the truth,” Elizabeth snapped, surprising me with her sass.

  “Fuck the truth! I need a goddamn donor, Lizbeth. I got a lot riding on this, and so do you.”

  She huffed loudly, clearly not happy with me. “The only chance we have is checking the national registry, and there are hardly any people on the living donor database list who match.”

  “You said hardly, which means there’s someone up there.” I felt a small glimmer of hope.

  She swiveled back around and clicked on her computer. “Well, here’s one in Brooklyn. Roman Johnson, age twenty-six . . . and look at that! He’s black, not Asian.”

  I walked over to look at the screen. “You don’t say? I actually have someone taking care of something for me in that area.”

  “Well, there’s your donor. He was just added to the database a couple of days ago,” she said.

  I turned to Dr. Baker. “Doc, what’s your thoughts?”

  “He solves your problem. But if you’re sending somebody to get this boy, there’s one thing you must remember.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When you deliver him, he’s going to have to be alive.”

  Roman

  52

  “Aaaaaahhhh!” Aunt Coretta screamed when I poked my head through the living room window. She was standing over me with a skillet, about to bash my brains in.

  “Aunt Coretta, no!” I lifted my hands to protect my head.

  “Roman! Boy, you scared the hell outta me. What the hell is wrong with the you, busting up in this house like that?” She clutched her chest and leaned on the wall, still holding on tight to the skillet.

  “Sorry, Auntie,” I said, pulling myself in the window the rest of the way. “I forgot my key at the hospital.”

  “Why didn’t you just knock on the door or call me?” she scolded.

  “I did. You ain’t been answering your phone.”

  “Oh, I forgot to turn the ringer on after I got up from my nap. I was just fixing me something to eat before I went back over to sit with Sister. You want me to fix you a plate? The food’s almost ready. Pork chops, collard greens, and macaroni and cheese. Your favorites,” she said.

  “Yeah, let’s sit down and eat. I gotta talk to you about something.”

  “Okay, the pork chops will be ready in about ten minutes. You go on up and take you a shower. You been wearing them same damn clothes the past three days.” She smiled and pointed at the stairs.

  I went up to my bedroom to grab my bathrobe and toiletries. When I opened my closet door, I had to pause for a minute. It seemed like something was off. Things were kind of shifted. I wrapped my fingers around the handle of the gun tucked in my waistband, then snatched back the row of shirts, expecting to find someone hiding there. But the only thing there was a large stack of Nike boxes.

  “Yo, you trippin’, Rome,” I whispered to myself as I sat on the side of my bed. For some reason, I thought about Kandace. It dawned on me that I hadn’t heard from her in a couple of days. As fucked up as my head was, it would be nice to talk to her, so I called.

  “Hey, baby,” I said when she answered.

  “Don’t hey baby me, motherfucker,” she snapped, catching me totally off guard.

  “What the hell is that all about?” I snapped right back.

  “The same thing that was up with you the other night.”

  “What other night? What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t play stupid, Roman. I ain’t got no time for the shit. You know what I’m talking about,” she answered, full of attitude. “And you know the fucked-up part about this is I really like you.”

  “Kandace, I swear I don’t know—”

  Crash! A loud sound came from downstairs.

  “What the hell? Did you hear that?” I said to Kandace.

  “Yes. What was that?” Kandace yelled.

  “I’ll call you back. I think my aunt fell,” I said and hung up.

  I came out of my room and yelled my aunt’s name. She didn’t answer. Step by step, I slowly descended the stairs, afraid of what I would find when I got to the bottom. I heard a noise coming from the kitchen.

  I yelled her name louder. “Aunt Coretta!” Still no answer.

  I stepped into the living room, and that’s when I was confronted by a horrific sight. There in the kitchen doorway was my aunt’s body, slumped into a crumpled, bloody mess. I ran over and cradled her head in my arms. Her throat had been sliced open. She was already dead.

  “Fuck.” I gasped, swallowing the huge lump
that had formed in my throat.

  “Don’t worry. She didn’t suffer.” The voice came from behind me.

  I turned and saw a tall white man standing there, smiling at me. My heart started pounding when I realized it was the same crazy dude who had killed Lex and those girls. The kitchen door was wide open. He must have forced his way through there and ambushed Aunt Coretta.

  “You motherfucker!” I reached for my gun, but it wasn’t there. I’d left it upstairs on my bed. Here I was, holding my dead aunt, her killer standing in front of me, and I was unarmed.

  “Now, are we gonna do this the easy or the hard way?” He lunged at me, and I scurried onto my feet.

  I hopped the stairs two at a time and ran into my bedroom, but before I could reach my gun, he grabbed me and tossed me across the room. I landed so hard against the dresser I thought I could have broken my spine. I tried to brace myself to stand, but he gripped my shirt, and his fist connected with my stomach. Dude went crazy on me until I finally got in the right position to kick him. I scrambled away on all fours, reaching onto the bed to feel for my gun.

  “Looking for this?” He held up my gun and smiled. I expected him to take aim and shoot, but instead, he pulled out a stun gun and zapped me.

  “Damn, that looks like it hurts,” he said, mocking me.

  You damn right it hurt. I’d never felt anything like it. I was numb and in pain at the same time as I fell flat on the floor.

  That’s when I heard two ear-shattering shots ring out. He dropped on top of me like a damn tree falling, knocking the wind out of me. Between that and the stun gun, it took me a minute to recover and realize that—holy shit!—I was still alive.

  I pushed the crazy man off me, patting all over my body to make sure I didn’t have any bullet wounds.

  “You all right, Roman?” There was a man standing in the entrance of my room, holding a gun. He looked a lot like me but with purple hair. I was pretty sure he was the reason I was alive, but how and why?

  Rio