All Blues

by Marie Wathen

“The hell you will.” Nelson stands and circles his desk, positioning himself directly in front of Decks before clarifying, “The X’kapz have had a relationship with the Hijos de la Sangre for thirty years. We owe them for all the years of unwavering dedication. Personally handling the mistake is a sign of respect. The Kennedy name leads this organization. You are a Kennedy and you will deal directly with Juan. I’m not having another one of those halfwits on your crew to fuck it up again.”

  Decks’ jaw ticks, glaring at his uncle. That smug smile is nowhere to be seen now. “Sure, Uncle Nelson, I’d be happy to handle it.”

  Nelson continues to pierce Decks with a set glare for a few silent moments, like he isn’t buying that his mulish nephew gave in so easily. Finally, he suggests, “We’ve covered all of our bases, so let’s join the ladies downstairs for brunch.” Just like faithful underlings, we obey without argument. The Kennedy estate is one of the largest in the city, and it is surrounded by armed guards. We pass two of Nelson’s most trusted as we exit his private office on the second floor.

  “There you are,” Aunt Camille, Nelson’s wife, chirps as we enter the lavish dining room, decorated in gold and burgundy accents.

  The matriarch sits, smiling happily, scanning her eyes around the sixteen person banquet table. Our Sunday brunches have always been one of her favorite family times. While I was growing up, I enjoyed our family brunches at the Sloane household. Being my father’s sister, Camille took up the tradition during her first marriage and then continued it after wedding Nelson. It is not nearly as enjoyable anymore–mainly, because I despise most of the attendees. I think that if a sexy brunette was seated in the chair next to mine, I would make more effort with these gathering. Lourdes is texting, ignoring her twin sons while they call for her repeatedly. If Angel was here, she wouldn’t even have her phone out. Strolling past the neglectful, pathetic excuse of a mother, I stand between the two blond boys and then kneel down.

  “Hey, guys.” I smile between them.

  “Hey, Ethan,” they shout in unison.

  Jonesy asks, “When can we come to your house and play with your model police cars again?”

  “Yeah, those are the coolest,” Jonah chirps, nodding his head wildly. “They look just like the Atlanta po-po’s cars.”

  “Today?” I ask Lourdes. Smiling, like she believes that she is the one getting a play date, she pulls her eyes away from her cell phone and offers me a combined wink and nod. She thinks that she looks sexy, but seeing spider-leg looking lashes flick together like that turns me off faster than seeing my grandmother twerking.

  “Your brother isn’t taking you to that club. It’s not right, Hartley,” Britny demands, pouting at her fiancé. He smiles, taking her hand into his and staring deeply into her eyes. With Hartley distracted, Decks steals a muffin from his plate when he sits beside the not-so-happy couple. Standing, I walk over to the sideboard, quickly pouring a cup of coffee, and filling up a plate.

  “Doodle-bug,” he croons. “It’s a bachelor party. All the guys are flying in for the private concert, and Tyson rented out Calibers for the evening.” I glance over my shoulder, seeing her shaking her head, ready to argue more, but he points toward me and continues. “Ethan will be with me, and you know that he would kick my ass if I were to do anything disrespectful, which I would never do anyway.”

  Britny turns, looking at me, her hazel eyes filled with worry, and I nod at my little cousin. “I most certainly will, Brit.”

  “Okay,” she whispers with a heavy sigh of resignation, studying her future husband’s face intently. “As long as Ethan is going, then I will chill out about this topic.”

  “Really?” Disdainfully, Lourdes tsk-tsks, crossing her arms and pressing them on the table. “You give in way too easily, Britny. I hope that after you two are married you will thicken up that backbone of yours.” Britny’s eyes grow wide in shock from her words. “Otherwise, he won’t fear you, and you will lose your man to some two-timing–”

  “Lourdes!” Disgusted by the way she is talking down to my cousin with what she believes is astute relationship counseling, I quickly interject, “Don’t you want to open your birthday present?”

  Her head flips around sharply, a smile streaking across her face while her blue eyes sparkle. “Yes! Gift time! Gimme, E.” She holds out her left hand, her palm facing down with all five fingers spread wide and the ring finger wiggling suggestively.

  “Uh…” I glance from it up to her face and then reach for the box sitting on the hutch behind her. “Here,” I say, thrusting a small box toward her. Instantly seeing the size is much too large for an engagement ring, her face falls, but she accepts it anyway. “Happy birthday.”

  She rips into the gold wrapping and pops open the box top. Her frown dissolves as she lifts up a pair of Stuart Weitzman Cinderella Slippers. “Oh my god, Ethan,” she whispers breathlessly. “These are the most beautiful shoes that I have ever seen.” She holds them high, showing them off to the other ladies and then gloats to Britny, “My man knows my tastes so well and he gives me the best of everything, simply because he worships me.” Britny rolls her eyes, and I give my sweet cousin a subtle wink. Brunch continues with everyone focusing on Lourdes’ birthday. Staring at the expensive shoes, now slid onto Lourdes feet, I think what a waste of money. I would much rather see them on a certain pair of long, tone legs, that belong to a woman who would make the gorgeous stilettos pale in comparison to her exclusive beauty. Damn, how I would really worship Angel while she lies naked of everything except for those shoes on my bed. Man, get your mind off of her already, I scold.

  Before leaving, I catch Britny heading out toward the backyard to meet with her wedding coordinator. “I’ll see you next Sunday, doll,” I assure, hugging her to me, and she nods silently. “By the way, Lourdes picked those shoes out and begged me to buy them last year. I don’t know her tastes, and I most certainly don’t worship her.”

  “If anyone knows that, it’s me, Eth.” She smiles proudly, because she is right, and then she narrows her eyes on me. “You’re too good for that evil bitch. I can’t believe it or understand how you could give into Nelson’s demands on hooking up with her, but I will figure it all out one day.”

  Not a chance in hell. Although, there is no one in this family that I love and trust more than Britny, I will never reveal my deception. I don’t even trust my aunt Camille. After the initial shock wore off following the horrible plane crash that changed all of our lives forever, it was obvious that my father’s sister was in on the plan. Conveniently, she didn’t accompany her husband, Owen, on a vacation for the first time in twenty years. Also, almost immediately after his death, she married his former business partner. I pray that one day soon, I will garner the information that she also knew of Nelson’s plans to kill my family. In this case, justice may be served cold, but will be sweet like gelato, my favorite dessert.

  On the ride home my phone rings through the Bluetooth system. “Hello.”

  “Hell, I can’t believe that you actually answered,” my brother Attacus claims, chuckling deeply. Most people call him Tac, but for some reason it never felt comfortable for me. “I was prepared to talk to your voicemail again. We’ve had such an intimate relationship over the past year that I’m kind of disappointed. I like it when she orders me to leave a message after the beep. Naughty wench.” He laughs loudly, and I join in.

  “How are you, Attacus?”

  “Exhausted, but I’m off for a few days. Thought about dropping by the house, and I wanted to see if you care to join me.”

  “When will you be there?”

  “Friday at the earliest, but you don’t have to come that soon.”

  “If you’re taking a woman up there again, keep your ass out of my bedroom this time. I don’t see the humor in finding your industrial size box of condoms in my bathroom.”

  He chuckles. “Gold standard in comfort and protection as well as for her pleasure, baby. Not my fault that you got the short-end of the Sloane ge
ne pool. I’d be jealous of my big cock too.”

  “Shut the fuck up!”

  A thick Middle Eastern accent announces a train departure over an intercom in the background and I ask, “Are you heading to Nepal again?”

  “Don’t ask, don’t tell,” he jokes. “I’ll see you next Monday.”

  “Three days?”

  “Gotta use up all those rubbers before they expire.” He laughs and then guesses, “You certainly aren’t getting any use out of them with Lourdes.”

  I snap back, “And I never will.” After having the best sex in my life with Angel, I could never sleep with Lourdes, no matter how much Nelson demands that I commit to his niece.

  “Chill the hell out, man. I’m just giving you a hard time.”

  “Whatever,” I practically growl. “I’ll see you Labor Day.”

  “Ethan,” he starts, but I disconnect before he digs and gets something out of me that I am just not willing to share with my intuitive kid brother. The last thing I need is him figuring out that I screwed a junkie from Decks’ crew. Even though I don’t really think of Angel in that light, I must, so that I can disassociate my brain from my heart’s desires. Wanting the only woman who could ever be all that I ever desire in a life-partner is a secret that I will never share. Honestly, I am more pissed off about wanting her again so damn badly.

  Chapter Nine

  Friday, I let my assistant know that I will be heading out of town on Monday, and then I have her call in a grocery order to the local store to stock the refrigerator at the Seabrook house for Attacus and his guest. I give Zeke and Bales the week off too. Their vacations are long overdue. After lunch, one of the lower level members strolls into my office, taking a seat while smiling like the cat that ate the canary.

  “Bishop,” I greet, turning away from my computer and leaning back in my leather chair.

  “I thought I would check in on you before I rush off to Manhattan.” Still smiling, he sits and studies a worn confidential file folder lying open on my desk. Moving it away from his prying eyes, I close it, and he shifts his gaze to me again.

  Jon “Arch Bishop” Dexter is known in our group as the gossip whore. He is a freebooter, riding out the high of his investment while his malicious chin-wagging is simply laughed off. It amazes me that anyone would trust his ass with anything, especially Nelson. I’ve yet to validate one piece of intel that he has given, but with his hefty financial backing, I guess that his bullshit is easily accepted.

  “More potential clients?” he deduces. He guesses incorrectly, but I’d never tell him that it’s the HLS file on my father’s accident. Arching an eyebrow and studying him, I finally nod slowly. “Excellent. You’ve really done a stellar job with swelling our wallets over the past couple of years, Ethan. I’m sure that whomever you have lined up will no doubt increase our wealth again.”

  “I didn’t know that you were so concerned with money. If I were to guess that is a pointless worry. You could probably support a small country for decades with just one of your many hidden Swish bank accounts.” If possible, he smiles wider.

  “Having a brother in securities who moonlights as a hacker is a priceless relationship.”

  “Was there something that you wanted?”

  Shifting forward to lean his elbows on the edge of the desk, he confesses, “A bit of information came across my desk recently that I believe you might be interested in.”

  “Go ahead,” I urge half-heartedly, and he smirks.

  “You’ve heard of Ryske?”

  That gets my attention. “I know that it is being marketed as a luxurious designer drug, fashioned for an elite group of users in Europe.”

  His grin gleams, indicating that he knows more, or at least he thinks that he does. “Customs is in a tizzy after apprehending a smuggler on a flight from England to New York early this morning. Before they could seize the product, she turned up the Mountain Dew bottle filled with a different glowing yellow concoction and drank twenty ounces of the posh creation like an expert juicer.” He leans back. “Then she died an hour later.”

  “Twenty ounces?” I repeat for clarity and he nods. “There isn’t an enforceable law against Ryske in the states yet. In relation to the amount of drugs that are shipped into the country daily, that isn’t a lot of product. I wonder why she committed suicide.”

  “It’s a wiser choice than facing Dr. A after getting busted with his brew.”

  Hiding my laughter, I clear my throat and repeat, “Dr. A?”

  “You don’t believe the stories about one of the most notorious drug lords?”

  “Not a word.” There has been a fable about the illustrious drug lord going around for years. Since no one has ever seen the doctor in all this time, I always believed that he was an imaginary threat created by other drug lords trying to instill fear in some of their pushers.

  “Well, then I suppose you won’t believe that one of ours is looking into joining up with the ghost either?”

  Observing him warily, I ask, “Do you have information on when and where this meeting will occur?”

  Turning his head to the side, he directs his attention out the window, studying the Atlanta skyline before rising and walking over to get a better look. “Millions of people are mulling around down there,” he points downward, “living lives that are boring as hell.” He twists around and stares at me, amazement sparking in his eyes. “I can’t fathom their desire for anything less than the opulent lifestyle we enjoy, but then, they’re not as fortunate as us.”

  I wait for him to get to it, when what I really want to do is kick his lying ass out of my office. His gaze drifts back to the streets below. I scrub a hand through my hair and ask, “Are you afraid that it will be taken away from you?”

  His eyes narrow, freezing on me for several moments before he swallows hard and confesses, “I believe that whoever the ghost is has a reach unlike anything we have ever seen before. If my intel is correct, we are on the verge of something epic. Something that will rock the drug world, much like the meth manufacturing did a few years back. Actually, I believe that it will be bigger and a whole lot deadlier than meth. Contracts with the brotherhoods could be cancelled once this shit crosses our borders.”

  “Who’s creating your distress, Jon?”

  His head twitches, like he doesn’t want to reveal the name, but then he decides against it and says, “I won’t tell you how I know, but, Decks has a contact who is assuring him that he will make millions off of a cooperative endeavor with the ghost. Becoming an independent entrepreneur hasn’t been his desire before, and that’s why I hesitated on bringing the subject up to Nelson first. For whatever reason, young Mr. Kennedy won’t talk to me about such.” I smirk, thinking that I don’t know anyone within the organization who would tell Bishop anything. “We may be looking at a bleak future that will lead to the ruin of our organization.”

  Acknowledging his worry, I assure, “I appreciate your confidence and I’ll monitor the situation closely.”

  “Very well,” he resigns, strolling toward the door. “I’ll trust you to notify me if there is anything that I need to be concerned with.” I nod. “Then I’m off to the show. Miranda Kerr and Gisele Bundchen are waiting for me.” He grins proudly, and I squint disbelievingly at his far-fetched declaration. “Those two fight over me every time I travel to New York City for the Victoria’s Secret Angel show.” I sigh, and he leaves. Now, I’m wondering if any of his concerns about Decks could be complete bullshit, like supermodels fighting over Arch Bishop’s ass.

  An hour before I plan to leave, Decks drops by my office. It isn’t unusual to see him downtown. He uses the Kennedy Imports on this side of town as his cover, but most of the time he prefers hanging out with the dealers and users at the trap houses that we have scattered throughout the city. He has a history with using and was arrested when he was a teenager for minor in possession and burglary. But just like with my situation, Nelson handled it ensuring that his nephew’s record was expunged. I won
der if he feels as morally corrupt as I do working for his uncle.

  Standing in the doorway, Decks shoves a hand deep into his front pocket while running his other through the hair at the side of his head. His eyes narrow on me, and I sense that something has him agitated. “You got a minute to talk, Blues?”

  “Yeah, Hillary, come in.” I lean back in my chair, clasping my hands together and placing my left ankle on my right knee. “I’m just finishing up some last minute details before I head up the coast for a week.”

  “Cool,” he shifts his eyes away, walks a few paces toward the window, turns around, and then finally decides on taking a seat in front of me. “I think that I’m going to hang around town for the holiday.” He shrugs. “Maybe I’ll see if a few of the guys want to hit the lake and launch the boats for the long weekend. Last big blow out for the summer,” he chuckles and then pauses, turning his head slightly and looking at me out the corner of his eyes. “Murph and Minder are opening the new place tonight and I have three more trap-houses lined up to open over the next few weeks.” I nod silently. “Yesterday, I met with a realtor. I’ve purchased, and will take full responsibility for a new place that I found in a subdivision between Canton and Woodstock.”

  “Another trap?” I ask curiously, because that area of town is really too nice for a drive-thru drug house.

  “No,” he replies, shaking his head and averting his eyes. “I’m moving around the storage houses. Because of the bust, I’ve had the realtor sell off some of our major properties.” Agreeing with his decision, I nod. “So, this weekend…” He glances at me again, and I see that something has him nervous. Perhaps, he wants to confide in me about the contact that Bishop is concerned about.

  “What about it?”

  “With the charges that Rad is facing, he is going to prison.”

  Frustrated with him dragging out whatever it is that he’s clearly uncomfortable discussing, I exhale loudly and nod. “Yeah, so?”

  Nervously, he clears his throat. “Do you think it’s too soon to ask out Angel?” Feeling like he just straight punched me in the gut, I hold my tongue and simply tilt my head questioningly. “She’s living up in Rad’s rundown dump alone, and I hate it. We’ve hung out a good bit, I don’t know.” He shrugs. “She’s a chill chick. I like her, and I want to take her to the lake as my date.”