by Brick
“We’ll get her back; trust me on that.” Climbing out of the van I saw that old demon, my father, taking his sweet time speaking with Benita.
I went to where my father stood with Benita. When I had exited the apartment, I gave everything over to Benita. She now stood handing a notepad to him as he looked through the cell phone, hands still covered in latex gloves. Once in front of them, I crossed my arms over my chest and watched him thumb through the notepad before he tossed it and the phone to Benita.
“There’s names of people he does business with and product sales in the notepad. The phone looks promising as well. Follow the trail and we might find the female. That picture alone gives me faith that she’ll lead us to my granddaughter. What do you think, mijo?” he asked me.
My gaze stayed on the van, mirroring how my father addressed me without looking at me. “Yes. I feel that the phone will help. The contacts on the notepad might not lead us anywhere. You know how closed-mouth street goons try to be, but it doesn’t hurt to see and take them out while we at it. We need to hit up spots that Fallon would occupy and then trace his steps to Donna.”
“That slows us down,” Benita said looking my way.
“No, that slows down you and the people we assign to go through the streets and hunt every person associated with Fallon. Just because you burn a flea-infested bed doesn’t mean there aren’t more fleas, mami.”
A low chuckle came from my father when I said that. It made me look his way. Made me notice how he stood with authority, the sun shining on his sunglasses. My father knew I was right, which was why he said nothing in return. I was proving that I remembered his old lessons and I figured that it was helping in the long run.
“Yes, sir,” she said in a tight, constrained tone. “I and my team will surveil his most recent deals and report what we learn.”
“Good,” my father said. He turned to clap a hand on my shoulder and walk us to the van. “Houston is not a place I desire to take over. However, cleaning out some of it can only help the familia rather than hinder it, so we will use this situation to our advantage.”
I said nothing as he spoke to me about the family corporation. We all headed out to the van and returned to the ranch. During that time, I learned that the family base was not only centered in Cuba, but we were also expanding and working on a second home base in California. Los Angeles was my pops’s other goal, along with expanding his transporting business already running in Vegas. Since I was a doctor, my father felt that he could use my services in opening clinics in these hubs.
“Father, right now all I’m focusing on is getting my child back,” I said once we made it to the ranch. Kenya and I were left alone in the foyer with my father.
“Sí, as am I, but I am also thinking of the future of our family.” He held his hand out, and a glass of chilled amber liquid was placed against his palm by one of the females he had walking about.
He took a sip then focused back on me. “I’m reacquainting myself with you, mijo. Though I hated how your mother took you from me, I see that two good things came from that. You will be the head of our health foundation. I learned that you did a tour of duty to help the Marines?”
When he laid out that info, I wasn’t shocked one bit. I took a quick glance at Kenya, who stood by my side looking exhausted and worn. But when my father mentioned the tour of duty I went on, all her energy seemed to plunge back within her. It was as if she was suddenly anxious and I wasn’t sure why.
“Yes, sir. I did, for about a year and a half,” I responded with a nod.
Caltrone gave a slight smile as he took a slow drink of his liquor then looked Kenya’s way. “And this was when you were in Atlanta, yes?”
“Yes. Yes, it was,” Kenya quickly said with an odd tone to her voice.
“Hmm,” my father said then chuckled. “That was the period you both trained in your own ways and grew your strengths in your prospective careers. This family needs that and I demand it. When we get my grandchild back, you will be working to opening the clinic, mijo. You will also work over our health foundation and build your base in Miami for our Cuban familia and extended relatives. Now, Kenya, my dear, I have plans with my legal branch for you as well, but we will speak on that later. The little bakery of yours will need to be managed from a distance.”
Kenya’s mouth opened and her body language changed to one of sadness. “I invested my time in the bakery. It is my world. Named it after Jewel. I have no desire to return to law.”
“You may not have a desire to return; however, law desires you. We’ll work out the logistics later. If you both will excuse me.” With that my father walked away and left Kenya and me alone.
“Tone, I don’t—” she started and I shook my head.
“No point in arguing about it. I suggest you call your fiancé and talk about that with him and give him a fair amount of warning. When we stood in front of my father, we both signed over our lives. He controls them now. We might be able to counter, but he always maintains the control.”
“Jewel works there. I don’t want to leave it,” she said following me as we walked up the grand staircase of the foyer.
“I know, baby, and you might be able to keep it. This is all a contract with my father. You need to make sure you tailor it just right for your own needs because this is all his world, not ours. I’m sorry,” I explained, stopping at my door.
“I just wanted Jewel back,” she spat out, anger in her eyes.
“As did and do I. My practice is being taken from me. We lose what we love in dealing with the devil, baby.” Carefully, I reached around her, opened the door to her room, and then stepped back. “Prepare yourself; that’s all you can do.”
Kenya stared up at me with pain in her eyes. I reached out to give her a reassuring hug, then headed to my room.
Once inside, I took to the bathroom, turned on the shower, and undressed. Carefully pulling my shirt off, I grunted then sat on the edge of the toilet. Taking off my boots, I reached into my right one, pulled out the blade I had there, and set it next to my cell phone on the sink.
My stomach was in knots. I was a failure of a father and now a cordial ex. I remembered when Kenya opened the bakery. It was her pride and joy. When we were in college, as a way to break away from her stress, she’d always find a way to bake the best cupcakes and sheet cakes in the world. Her cookies were slamming too. Even now, thinking of their taste, a warmth spread to my heart. Back then, I used to tell her that and she’d tell me that, one day, she planned to open up a spot to reflect that and name it after Jewel, because our baby girl was the fire in our hearts.
Now, Kenya was going to lose what she worked hard in building up. I felt responsible but, at the same time, it was her own doing. Standing up, I walked to the sink and hunched over trying to keep my emotions in check. I was changing. Caring about others’ welfare was becoming harder by the day. Killing was starting to come easy to me and the dark thoughts in my mind were more frequent. I was becoming something different and I shook my head at my reflection before stepping into the shower. Hot, stinging water sloshed over the planes of my sore and tired body. I cupped my hands to gather water and splashed it over my face, scrubbing at my beard as I tried to keep from roaring in my mind the flashes of my daughter fighting, and her screams. All I wanted was my daughter back, along with her safety. Why did this shit have to happen?
Slamming my fist into the shower, I slapped my hand against the wet wall then pressed my forehead against it as the emotion poured out of me and down the drain. It took me twenty minutes to get myself right before I stepped out of the shower with my towel around my waist. It took another ten before I headed out of my room dressed and looking for something to eat.
Briskly walking down the hall, I adjusted my watch on my wrist and went in my head about where I had my hunting knife, my Glock, and whatever else I needed on my outing. Taking the steps down, I stepped in the foyer and noticed my nephew.
“Where you going, pinja?” Mark aske
d in his usual snarky way.
Homie was standing in front of me drinking a beer with his arms crossed. On his hip was his Glock, and he wore a gun holster over his white beater. From where I stood, I could see that he had a fresh line up and of course he was clean from the previous massacre we both partook in.
Locking my gaze on him, I continued forward and walked past him to grab from a bowl of keys. Then I stopped outside the door. “Out. I’m hungry and I got some things on my mind.”
“Ah, yeah? Well, a nigga like you can hit up the kitchen and get all you need; besides, you don’t have that pretty wifey of yours by your side. Don’t you want to check in on her?” he said behind me.
“There something in there that can get me over this craving for some Texas barbecue?” Raising my eyebrow, I frowned. “If so, I don’t give a fuck. I’m going out, mongo. And Kenya got here on her own; she’ll be all good on her own.”
I said that to keep Mark off my back. He annoyed the fuck out of me with how he watched me, and Kenya for that matter. Ever since we were kids, he was trying to be Caltrone and I saw that it hadn’t stopped. I hit the remote to unlock the car. I waited for the chirp then headed to the driver’s side door.
“Nigga, only dumbass here is you,” Mark said laughing sharply. “Since ya riding out, I’m ya shadow. You know the game.”
Annoyed, I opened the door of a blacked-out Range Rover. “Where’s the old demon? Shouldn’t you be sniffing his balls and shit?”
As I felt the heat of the Texas sun heating up my flesh, Mark and I stared each other down. His jaw twitched. My jaw twitched. The distrust for each other was strong to the point where we could almost taste it. It was then that Kenya came out and headed my way when she saw me.
Crinkled hair braided back so that it was a loose afro in the back, Kenya moved like she had no care in the world. Rocking tight jeans, black boots that matched mine, a checkered shirt that was tied around her waist, and a black tank, she slid on a pair of glasses and moved past me to go to the passenger side.
“It’s full, Mark. Tone is about to take me to the store for some women’s stuff. Now, if you want to chill in the feminine aisle as I shop for tampons and pads, then ride out, nigga.” Playing with the ends of her hair, she smiled then climbed in the car.
“I didn’t invite you either.” Hopping in, I slammed the door, rolled the window down, and glared at Mark. “You coming?”
Mark stared at Kenya then shook his head. “Naw, I’m good. Fuck that. Bring back some food.”
That was when I pulled off without a thought. Speeding away, I turned up the music and reached in my pocket. Pulling out a black box, I turned it on and waved it around then passed it to her.
“I didn’t invite you, mami,” I said motioning for her to lift the box and wave it around.
She did as I said, unbuckled her seat belt, and leaned to the back to scan. “I saw Mark being a dick, so I decided to save the drama. You know how you men can be.”
“Fuck that, how we can be. Mark and I have legit beef,” I said, knowing she knew that already.
“I don’t care,” she said as she sat back down. She mouthed, “Clear.”
We sat in silence as I drove and glanced in my rearview mirror. “He’s trailing us, too, so we’ll be going to Walmart or Target.”
“Do Target,” Kenya said calmly. “What are you doing anyway, Tone?”
“First, what’s up with you? I thought you were going to rest,” I said eyeing her from the corner of my eye.
Kenya sat quietly, her fingertips tapping against her plump burgundy bottom lip. “I called Isaac. He’s pissed. Like, we got into it heavy and I just can’t deal with that; and I’m still shaken from . . . from . . .”
I quickly looked her way. The way her voice cracked put a pit in my stomach. When a fat tear slid from under her shades, I gripped the steering wheel harder.
“Look, none of this is going to get easier but, at the same time, I don’t want you to cry. I’ll try to help however I can in keeping Isaac chill, okay?” I asked while reggaetón thumped in our ears.
“No, no, it’s okay. I’ll be able to work it out. I just need this quiet right now and I didn’t want to be in the house,” she said. Kenya sat back, tears falling down her face, with her finger against her temple. She was reclining, legs wide, tapping her nails against her inner thigh as she always did when in thought.
Honestly, I didn’t want to be an asshole, but I couldn’t stop myself. I just wanted her to stop crying. It hurt and added to the tension between us and how I felt about her being here.
“You should have stayed away,” I grumbled in my throat. “I knew this would be too much for you.”
“I don’t care, Tone,” Kenya spat back. She turned in her seat and glared at me. “I made my choice but, at the end of the day, I was the one who helped kill those babies. I did that. For our daughter. You might be able to live with that but I can’t.”
Frowning, I made a turn, and decided hit up Target later. “I’m not sitting here asking you to live with it, and you don’t know me well if you think that I am able to, Kenya,” I barked back. We whipped along the interstate going off on each other, letting our pain ride us until I parked outside of a Jamaican restaurant. “‘At the end of the day.’ All I’m saying is—”
“All you’re saying is what, Antonio?” Kenya spat at me, undoing her seat belt. “Be a fucking emo? Have no feelings? Kill with no regard?”
“Yeah. Yeah, you have to in this type of world. You asked to be a part of it, so deal with it. Swallow your tears and hide them until you’re in private. That’s all you can do. Otherwise, it’ll get you killed in the street or by my father’s hands. Understand that, please! I’m trying to keep you safe.”
“I didn’t ask you to,” Kenya shouted at me, wiping under her shades.
“Well, I am. We might not have been able to keep our vows, but I’m a decent man, mami. I’m going to try to keep the blood off your hands as much as I can. Now get out.” Climbing out of the car, I slammed the door and walked ahead.
Heading inside, I passed by a tall, Amazonian sista with a large afro, sharp hazel-green eyes, and beautiful cocoa skin. She stood out in a nice way that had me turning to watch how her ass quaked. While I was checking her and holding the door waiting for Kenya to follow me, I saw that she carried a blade around her thick thigh. Food was in her hand, and she let out a light laugh as a tall brotha, who leaned against the side of a large black truck, watched her with a smirk on his face. He opened the door for her, speaking in Portuguese. She glanced my way, smiled, and closed her door.
Shaking my head, I focused back on Kenya, who gave me a stank look. “I’m sorry. We’re tired and need to just chill. Mark is watching us, so let’s just eat and work on being on the same page, okay?”
Saying nothing, she walked in and I followed, watching how her ass shook also. It was an old habit of mine. When she was mad, she always switched a little harder. I sighed at the memory, ordered us food, got us a seat outside, then thanked the staff when they brought us our food five minutes later.
Using my fingers to dip my bread in the rich brown sauce as I quietly thought, I then reached in my pocket, turned the phone on, and pulled up a picture. Sliding it to her, I gave a nod. “A’ight, this is what I know so far. The kid Keith, who took our daughter, had a chess piece tattoo. When we found Fallon, he had one too; and when I went through his phone, I found pictures of a young girl with the same tattoo.”
“Do you think they are a part of some group?” Kenya quietly asked sipping from her bubbling drink and looking at the picture. “Did our daughter know this girl?”
I watched her quickly wipe under her shades again, and I knew it was from seeing our daughter.
“There’s no doubt about it and I don’t know yet. But we’ll see what we find out when I question the old man.”
“All right. We need answers, Tone. This relying just on him isn’t working for me right now,” she said.
“It
’s what we signed up for. We’ll find our daughter and everything else will be what it is. I’m tired to my soul like you. But we have this picture and all we have to do now is dig up a trail.” Quietly chewing, I looked to the right of me to see Mark walking our way.
“Agreed. Hey! The wall behind him is this place,” Kenya said sitting up.
Glancing at the distance between Mark and our table, I quickly nodded. “That’s why I brought us here, because they came here. So I’m watching and listening. I think that I can find something on her. What do you think?”
“I think we can too. I’ll do whatever I can,” she said with a sad smile.
“Good. We’ll come back later after I speak to the old man and you can pull out the lawyer in you. Question but don’t scare them. I think we might be able to use their security footage,” I said as Mark plopped down next us then took our plates of food.
Kenya gave me a light smile then quietly picked at her food.
Plans were in motion. All we had to do was wait to see what chips would fall from our digging and if Donna was anywhere around.
Chapter 11
Kenya
I studied traffic both ways before rushing back across the street to the Caribbean eatery. I didn’t have much at my disposal, but there was a Kinko’s across the street. I e-mailed to myself the picture with the girl and Jewel then I rushed across the street to print it out. Once done, I briskly made my way back inside. It had been awhile since I had to put my lawyering to use, but I had no choice now, especially since Caltrone had all but ordered me back into it once this ordeal was done.
I couldn’t think about that at the moment, however. I stormed back in the place with newfound energy. My mental breakdown before be damned. Jewel had been in this place. For a minute, I stood still trying to imagine her here, laughing, eating, thinking she was among friends and safe. I opened my eyes and glanced around. I had no idea where Tone had gone, but I knew he was around because Mark was and there was no way Tone would leave me anywhere alone with Mark. The man always watched me like he intended to do bad things to and with me. I detested him and he knew it. Still, he seemed to get some kind of sick kick out of that, too.