by Brick
An arrogant but lethal grin spread across his face while he looked my way. “Another time, Uncle. Bet you won’t get another chance like that with me again or your bi-atch, though she tasted good.” Nigga slowly licked his lips then winked. He then pointed at me as if he held a gun. His thumb dropped like he was letting off several rounds.
His grandiose gesture didn’t do a damn thing for me. There was no fear in me because that was what was innate in my blood. When Kenya bristled by my side, I calmly looked at her from the corner of my eye. My face went stoic. With it my posture became tense like a steel wire while I controlled my breathing to a calming pace. She knew what that meant. No words were needed. It’s chill and I got you. Nothing more. Nothing less.
Once everyone in the room calmed down and the chaos cleared up, we all sat back in our places. Between those of us in our chairs was a massive carved marble table. The family crest with its signet carved in its center as a reminder about who we were. Framing us from behind was all white mixed with ultra-light colors. Modern mixed flawlessly with classic style. Slick ceiling-high curtains draped an opulent wall of glass that highlighted the vast emerald green Spanish-style gardens outside.
If one went around the room, they’d see period-piece art from various ages and a few gallery-quality paintings created by family members. Swarovski crystal sculptures and vases sat on either pedestals or wall tables, glinting from the sunlight and cascading on the warm wooden floor. Behind where I sat was a massive foyer where one would see a black iron double staircase. This place, though a safe house, was opulent and screamed Caltrone.
Near my side was Kenya, who sat fisting her hands on her lap. On the other side of me, surprisingly, was my father at the head in his own chair. Opposite of him was Damien, who sat rubbing his neck still smiling and staring between Kenya and myself. The art of getting under one’s skin was Damien’s talent and I actually respected and hated him for it. It was an asset I rarely used.
“Now that we are at ease, tell us what you know of this boy who took my granddaughter, Damien. Your reckless actions have allowed him to become a bigger threat to our familia. What say you?”
Damien behaved how Damien does: like a lowlife, entitled asshole. I sat back as staff—who were family members because the old man didn’t trust outsiders unless they grew up by his side, and even then he didn’t trust but his own self—set preparations of warm and comfy-smelling foods out in front of us. Each dish reflected our Cuban heritage, along with a couple dishes reflecting our Black American sides. Basically, it was a soul food pairing that flowed with the main Cuban dishes. Wine, ice water, and other libations were poured and mixed in front of all our faces.
Without blatantly looking around, I took in all the various faces of family, some as old as my father and many younger. No one reached for their food, except for Damien. His disregard for our dysfunctional traditions had him reaching for his wine. He took a deep drink, and smiled at us all.
It was then that I looked at the old man. His older, handsome features, which matched my own, became a blank slate. The very few and light creases upon his face deepened and his mouth became a hard edge. An uncomfortable tenseness filled the room. Family shifted in their seats. The few small infants who were allowed at the table with us started to fuss until their mothers plopped a titty in their mouths. Everyone at the table knew the rules: only the king of the clan took the first drink, sip, bite, or taste of food.
“Mmm, that’s quality, Grandpops,” Damien said with his lips to the edge of his glass again. There was a slight jarring edge to his voice and he continued. “I’m curious about this boy you mention, Grandpops, because there was no boy who was presented to me. There was a hippie-looking mayo nigga with stringy brown hair. Kinda looked like Robin Thicke. He was with his lanky, nerdy-looking black friend with glasses, but that is all.”
Calmly, as if what Damien had done hadn’t irritated him, Caltrone gathered his glass, and resigned himself to taste his red wine. He swirled his wine around, inhaled its scent, then took in its rich, dark coloring. In my mind, I saw the old man snatching Damien by his throat but, yeah, that shit didn’t go down. “And you, again, allowed them to go? Interesting.”
He began taking meticulous bites of his non-touching food. That then signaled us all to eat and relax. Though, both Kenya and I watched in tense quietness.
“The only interest I had was in the packages of snow they transferred to me as a deposit for bringing me fresh pussy.” Damien glanced our way with a wink then continued speaking while spearing his food with his fork. “Once they left, after I decided not to go with their female, I had my boys trail them. Shit still felt suspicious to me, which is also why I didn’t just kill them and keep her for myself as a prize.”
I almost leaped across that table. My composure was about to snap as this nigga explained it all away as the nature of business. I was trained not to care about the regard of anyone, including family, but loyalty to family was something that never should have been disregarded. This nigga sat here practicing the first half, while fucking his loyalty to family. I wanted to slice his throat to the bone and stuff my hand in his voice box.
“Had you touched her or allowed her to be abused in any way, you do understand that you and I would have a bigger problem than we already do, due to your insolence? Sí?” The old man’s stoic voice was even and cold as he issued that reserved threat.
Damien sat in silence and we all knew that he definitely understood.
Taking a sip of his wine, Caltrone continued. “Now what did you learn?”
“That Pinky and the Brain were really being led by a third nigga. I guestimate that he must be the boy you’re speaking about. Keith, correct?”
When Caltrone gave a nod, Damien seemed to relax his resolve. “My men watched them leave, and heard mention of Savannah as the destination. That’s all I have.” Dame gave a dramatic pause.
It was clear that he was toying with us. Part of me, frankly, didn’t believe that Keith had another set of connects he’d trust to present Jewel to Dame. But, considering how the trail went cold once we got here, I wouldn’t put it past the crafty bastard.
There was a sharp pain against my palm. When I glanced down, I realized that I had pressed my fork against the surface so hard that it had broken skin. The games being played had my anger boiling over. I was about to pop off at the mouth but Dame’s wicked smile cut me off at the pass.
“Oh, that and where they dropped off Pinky and the Brain.”
Plump, fresh steak with garlic herb butter sat on my plate, cooling. I stared at the juices and the arroz blanco with various vegetables on its side becoming chilled due to me not touching it. “Give us the location,” was all I gruffly stated. More like demanded.
The light touch of Kenya’s hand against my thigh was her way of letting me know that she was by my side. It gave me a moment of peace that was broken by the reality that our baby girl was lost to us still. Bodies had dropped in our search for her, and it could have ended if only this had been a different life.
“Sí, that and the real names I know you have, grandson. You’re a thorough man, so I know you did more than just trail.”
Damien nosily cut into his steak. His utensils clanked against the plate. Head bowed then tilted to the side, he gave a calculating smirk and popped a sliced portion of the tender meat in his mouth. That conniving expression was back on his face, and he calmly reached for a napkin to wipe at the corners of his mouth. He was fucking with me.
“I can do more than just give you names, Grandpops. I can personally take you to where I’m holding them and their family.” Dame glanced our way again.
Through all his masochistic bullshit, Dame was still an Orlando. Once my hands got on the two motherfuckers who dared to sell my daughter and I politely introduced myself to them, then I might, just might, not attempt to end my nephew’s life. I had a specific nigga named Keith to fry.
Chapter 16
Kenya
I found
it odd that Caltrone allowed Damien to be so blatantly disrespectful to family rules and traditions. While other members of the family didn’t even look at the food before Caltrone did, Damien had seemed to forget his manners. I figured there had to be a method to the madness. Although my nerves were still going haywire, the fact that Tone had gone hard for me, like he had done so many times before we had broken up, reminded me that we still had some unfinished business between us.
I’d cheated on Isaac. I gave in to something that had been simmering inside of me for a long time. And it felt so damn good. I felt shame in admitting that. Yeah, Isaac’s sex hadn’t been bad. Yet, no man could do to me what Tone had always been able to do. Nobody could make me moan the way Tone did. No one could tap into another part of my soul and make me lose my mind the way Tone did. I’d actually missed him in the most intimate of ways; and, even though we had been just kids when we started having sex, Tone knew things that I didn’t and he gladly taught me everything he knew.
I looked over at Tone to see he was still in fight mode. His jaw twitched and his eyes were narrowed. It felt as if at any minute he would make good on his threat and try to kill Dame, for real this time. I held his hand a little tighter, trying to see if he was still with me or if he had snapped, so to speak. When he squeezed back, I relaxed a little.
“Let us finish fellowshipping,” Caltrone said. His voice was controlled, like he was trying to remain calm even though he wasn’t. “Once done here, Damien will take us to where he is holding the heathens who dared to take an Orlando. Finding my grandchild is of the utmost importance to me. However, this thing with Jewel has opened another can of worms for this family. Maria-Rosa, Frederick, and Marco are all back in California. We have a Knight issue.”
Forks stopped midair to mouths. Someone choked on their wine. A few of the women gasped. “A Knight issue?” an older gentleman repeated like he hadn’t heard correctly the first time.
A beautiful Amazonian, dark-skinned woman leaned forward. She had hazel eyes and her natural hair was braided into four elegant goddess braids. “Why do we have a Knight problem, papi?” she asked.
Caltrone looked around the rectangular table, and made eye contact with every person there, including me. He then took a deep breath and said, “We may have killed a girl who was directly related to them.”
The shock around the table was palpable. “Was such a thing needed?” the dark-skinned woman asked.
“Believe it or not, sí. Yes, it was. She knew information about Jewel and wouldn’t talk. We had to do what we had to do.”
“And there were no other options?” the older man asked.
Caltrone turned and pierced the man with a scathing look. “Have I ever gone in half-cocked, Xavier?”
“My apologies,” Xavier said then picked up his wineglass to drink.
“Uncle Rueben knows about this?” the dark-skinned woman asked.
Caltrone nodded. “Sí.”
“I’ll fly out tonight to give Uncle the backup he needs.”
“Savoy is there.”
The dark-skinned woman nodded once. “I’ll keep him leveled.”
Caltrone nodded then looked back at Tone. “Son, we must get moving. Time is of the essence. But, before we leave . . .” Caltrone started. He stopped talking then took a long swig from his wineglass. He set it down and, with a quick sleight of hand, he punched Dame so hard, blood went spilling from his nose like a faucet.
Dame almost fell out of the chair, but he caught himself. He jumped up, expletives leaving his mouth in rapid Spanish. He was angry. Like a caged wild animal who had been poked and prodded too many times.
“If you want to behave like you have no manners, like you do not know the rules in my domain, in my presence, then you shall always be dealt with as a peasant,” Caltrone stated calmly.
Even I knew there would be punishment for the disrespect Damien had shown his grandfather. The room was deathly quiet. No one said a word. Tone chuckled. Dame scowled at his grandfather, who sat unbothered; then he shot daggers at Tone before turning back to Caltrone.
Caltrone sat like he hadn’t just assaulted a man, although he kept eye contact with Dame. They stared one another down like they were two opponents as opposed to family. Dame’s chest heaved up and down, his lips pulled in, and he had fire in his eyes. He yanked the chair he had been sitting in backward. He yanked it so hard that the chair went flying back into a wall, knocking a few paintings down.
“My dearest grandson, if ever you feel the need to test your manhood, let it not be with a man who takes pride in breaking men down to their bare minimums. Your father learned it from me and he was nothing compared to what I am capable of. So, I must ask of you, do you feel. . . froggy?”
Dame took one step toward Caltrone and every woman in the room stood. Dame took notice as well and, wisely, stopped. He looked at each of the women and snarled. Every last one of those women had a look in their eyes that said they had no intention of letting Dame leave alive if he got an inch closer to Caltrone. I was wishing, hoping, and praying he was stupid enough to go up against Caltrone. In my mind, I saw the women come down on him like a swarm of killer bees.
I’d come to notice that in the presence of Caltrone Orlando, women could be fragile and yet fighters. The dark-skinned woman who had spoken so freely to Caltrone stood like she was ready to launch an attack. She had inched her chair back. Her feet were planted shoulder-width apart. A gold fork was held tightly in her palm. For Damien Orlando to be a pimp, he would have no control over the women in the room now. They were ready. Even the ones with infants had smoothly passed babies off to the men sitting beside them. They, too, stood ready to take down the grandson foolish enough to disrespect the man of the house.
If I hadn’t known any better, I’d have thought it was odd that the woman who had just moments before tried to fuss at Tone for going after Damien was now standing, ready to take Damien out herself if need be. That was the way of the Orlandos. You didn’t come for the head of the table.
Caltrone stood and washed the hand he had punched Dame with in a bowl of soapy water that one of the women from the kitchen had brought to him. He dried it with one of the white cloth napkins then closed the gap between him and Dame. He slapped a hand on the back of Dame’s neck and whispered something in his ear. Whatever he said didn’t sit well with Dame, who jerked away once Caltrone was finished talking to him.
“Go clean yourself up,” Caltrone ordered. “Meet us in the garage in ten minutes. Not a minute later. Antonio and Kenya, follow me.”
* * *
Ten minutes later, we were behind the black SUV Dame was in as we followed him to wherever he had stashed the men who had tried to sell my daughter to him. I looked at Tone, wondering where his mind was.
“We’re close to finding her. I can feel it,” I said, trying to get him to talk to me.
Only then would I have any inkling of what he was thinking. Tone grunted but kept quiet as we hopped on I-75 South headed toward Locust Grove. When I saw he wasn’t going to talk, I sat back and sighed. My cell rang. Isaac was calling me again. I ignored it. We’d fought the last time we’d spoken and I wasn’t in the mood for his ego trip. Not to mention so much had happened since our last conversation. I wasn’t ready to be confronted with my infidelity.
I looked up and saw a billboard advertising the Tanger Outlet as well as other restaurants and rest stops. Traffic moved at a steady pace. Caltrone was in the SUV with Dame while Benita drove Tone and me. She and her sidekick, whose name I still didn’t know, were in a heated discussion.
“Just let him be until this is over, Tiffany,” Benita said.
Tiffany, who was all of five feet five, petite with perfectly rounded hips, and dark-skinned, snapped her head around to look at Benita. “Why? I kept my end of the deal. He should keep his,” she said.
“Because he has a lot on his plate. He’s trying to find his granddaughter. Leave him be before you piss him off.”
Tiffany scoffe
d and shook her head. Her bone-straight jet-black hair swayed back and forth as she did so. “I’m going to say something to him,” she said to Benita.
Benita made a sound that said she was annoyed. “Don’t fucking come crying to me when he hurts your fucking feelings, either. Just don’t.”
Tiffany snapped, “Fine, I won’t.”
Benita got ready to say something else until she looked in the rearview mirror to see Tone and me paying attention to their conversation. Silence engulfed the truck again.
“Go to Frederick,” Benita whispered; at least, she tried to. I could still hear her.
Tiffany shook her head. “No.”
“Marco?”
“Hell no. Fucking deviant.”
“Can’t you just wait this out?”
“No,” Tiffany all but screamed. “I have waited. I’ve waited damn near two weeks. No.”
“He’s going to hurt your feelings, dumb ass.”
Tiffany was silent for a moment as she stared straight ahead. Then, in a soft voice, barely above a whisper, she said, “I’ll risk it.”
Benita shook her head and mumbled something under her breath. Clearly, she was annoyed with her sidekick. A few seconds later, she reached out to hold Tiffany’s hand. I had no idea what all that had been about, and I didn’t have time to care. My daughter was missing.
We got off at exit 212. Drove for another ten miles or so and ended up at our destination. Locust Grove was country as shit. So much so that it almost seemed as if we’d gone back in time. All the houses were ranch style or bungalow. There were gardens and small farms. I almost thought I was going to see the Amish riding on the road in the carriages.