The Family Business

by Pete, Eric

  Tony picked up his drink with his free hand, but the other one stayed on my shoulder, patting it gently. Then, ever so subtly, it traveled up from my shoulder to my neck. I felt myself relaxing as he massaged my neck and the base of my head. Before I knew it, his fingers were all up in my hair, and he was stroking it. It felt so good that for a second I thought I moaned with pleasure—until I realized it was Tony who was moaning.

  “Uh ... hello?” I said, pulling my head out of his reach and breaking the moment.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” he apologized and dropped his hand into his lap. “It’s just that your hair is so beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” Okay, so the hair-stroking moment was a little weird for a public place, but what woman doesn’t like to hear compliments about her hair? And then Tony ruined it by opening his mouth and saying the stupidest possible thing.

  “Is it real?”

  I snapped my neck around and glared at him, all attitude now. “Excuse me?”

  “Is it real?” His tone was innocent, but I didn’t care. First, the comment about me being late, and now this. Until now, Tony’s whiteness hadn’t really been an issue for me, but hair is a sensitive subject for a black woman, and if he didn’t know that, then maybe there was such a thing as being “too white.”

  “I heard you the first time,” I said, my voice laced with contempt. “I just can’t believe you asked me that. I mean, why wouldn’t it be real?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered. “But I do know that sometimes women get weaves, extensions, or whatever.”

  “Women, or black women?” I was feeling defensive, but incredibly, he still looked bewildered, like he truly didn’t understand how his question had offended me.

  “All women,” he answered. “It seems like half the women in Hollywood are doing it now, aren’t they? I mean, how else did Britney Spears get her hair back so fast after she shaved her head? But to answer your question, it is popular among black women, isn’t it?”

  “Humph!” was all I said.

  He was right, of course, but he still needed to know that just like you don’t ask a woman how old she is, you don’t ask if her hair is real. But since the question was already out there, now I had to defend myself.

  “As a matter of fact, it is real,” I finally added. “I don’t do weaves, wigs, or chemicals. My family comes from good stock.” I took his hand and placed it on my head. “You can pull it if you like.”

  “No, I believe you.” His smile traveled all the way up to his beautiful eyes and made me forget that a moment before I’d been offended. I considered the thought that maybe I was just on edge and being too sensitive. It was possible, after all, that he was making innocent conversation that had nothing to do with race. I just needed to chill and let the buzz from my drink kick back in.

  “So, Tony, now that you know that I’m married and that my hair is not fake, tell me a little bit about yourself. What type of business are you in?”

  “Garbage,” was his one-word answer. I sensed he was being a little evasive.

  “Garbage? What is that? Code for the Mafia?” I was joking, but as soon as the words came out, I realized how offensive they were.

  “When an Italian guy says he’s in the garbage business, why does everyone assume it’s the Mafia or something?” It was his turn to sound defensive, and I couldn’t blame him one bit.

  “I know, I know, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. That’s just as bad as when a black man says he’s a deliveryman, and people automatically think that’s code for drug dealing.”

  “Exactly. Now, how would you have felt if I automatically assumed you were somehow involved in the drug business just because you’re black—correction, African American?”

  Oh, if you only knew ...

  “Point taken,” I replied. We both retreated into our drinks for a minute to avoid any more uncomfortable conversation.

  After a while, Tony looked at me with a mischievous smirk on his face.

  “What’s so funny?” I reached for a napkin, thinking maybe I had something on my face.

  “No, no, I’m sorry. I just had a thought ... ,” he said, still with that smirk on his face.

  “A thought about what?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing. It’s totally inappropriate.” Of course, this just made me even more curious.

  “You can’t just look at me like that and then not tell me what’s going on,” I protested.

  “London, it’s inappropriate,” he said, looking at me again with this half-lidded seductive gaze. I swear to God I thought he was going to lick his lips like LL Cool J or something. If it had been some other random dude in a bar, I might have found that look corny, but I was actually kind of turned on.

  “Why don’t you let me decide if it’s inappropriate? I’m an adult.”

  He hesitated, but only for a few seconds. “You have to promise me you won’t get offended if I say something fresh.”

  “I promise, I promise. Now, tell me.”

  “Okay. I was just thinking that you look like you’re the kind of woman who loves oral sex. Receiving, not giving.”

  He said it so nonchalantly that it took a moment for it to register in my brain. When it did, I lowered my head, because I was sure all the blood in my body had rushed to my blushing face.

  “See, I told you it was inappropriate. Look, I’m sorry—”

  I squeezed his wrist to stop him. “It’s true.”

  “Excuse me?” he said, suddenly sounding a little breathless.

  “Yes, it was inappropriate, but it’s also true. I do love to receive oral sex. I don’t mind giving it, either.” For the record, I was now even wetter than before. “I just don’t get it like I used to. You know, husband’s too busy and all....”

  “My God, what is wrong with him?”

  “I wish I knew,” I said, not wanting to get into the fact that I believed he was too busy giving it to someone else these days.

  “London, what would ... Never mind.”

  “No, go ahead and say it.” I was starting to find this conversation very intriguing.

  He sighed. “Ah, what the hell. You only live once.” He turned his whole body to face me. “London, what would you say if I told you I wanted to perform oral sex on you? No strings, no reciprocating, just me doing you until you come.”

  Okay, at first I was wet, but now I was fucking soaked. Just the thought of this dreamy olive-colored man wanting to kiss me between my legs had me ready to go home and make love to my shower massager. I didn’t need the real thing; just the imagery was enough for me. After all, I was a married woman.

  I opened my mouth to respond, but the phone rang again. I snatched it up furiously. “Harris, didn’t I tell you I wasn’t coming home?” I yelled.

  “This isn’t Harris.” The baritone male voice was like a bucket of cold water over my head, extinguishing any flame that Tony might have ignited. It was my father. “But you stand corrected,” he said. “You are coming home. So whatever you’re doing, drop it and get home now.” And that was that. He ended the call.

  Grown woman or not, Daddy was Daddy, and if he said I needed to come home, then something was going on. I picked up my purse. “I’m sorry, Tony, but I have to go.”

  “Oh, the hubby not taking no for an answer?” he joked.

  “No, that was my father. I have to go.” I stood up to leave, but Tony grabbed my hand.

  “Before you go, I just need to know one thing.”

  “No,” I answered before he could even ask the question. “No, even if the phone hadn’t rung, I would not have let you go down on me. Does that answer your question?”

  He let go of my hand and turned back toward his drink.

  I leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “But I do appreciate the offer. If I wasn’t married ...”

  I’d like to think it was the alcohol that made me do it, but I can’t say I was all that drunk. No, I was fully aware of my actions as I grabbed Tony by the back of
the head and pressed my lips against his. I got a taste of Hennessy from his tongue as he explored my mouth. God, if he was half as good at oral sex as he was at kissing, he’d have me wide open. It was a good thing I was going home.

  “Thank you,” I said to him, staring into his soulful eyes. “You don’t know how bad I needed someone to talk to.”

  LC

  27

  “Alejandro, we have a problem,” I said plainly, though it took all of my resolve not to fly off the handle. The morning had come without sleep and without news of the Roadster or the truck it was being hauled in. It would be an understatement to say that I was unhappy, but I would keep my rage in check for the time being. At least for now, we would pretend to be gentlemen.

  There was a slight hesitation on the line before he said, “What kind of problem?”

  “Right after your men made delivery, the truck was hijacked with the car inside it. As you can imagine, I’m not a very happy camper.”

  “I am sorry to hear this. Perhaps your misfortune has something to do with my dilemma. I was just going to call you myself,” Alejandro explained. “You see, I haven’t heard from Miguel or my drivers who delivered you the fine automobile last night. Do you know anything of their whereabouts?”

  “Your drivers, I have no idea where they are. But I’m sure you can understand that we’ve been a little preoccupied. Especially since I paid for the delivery in full in advance ... as a sign of good faith. Now I find that faith in question, and I have nothing to show for it.”

  “And you suspect me or my people of hijacking the truck?”

  “As you know, I am not a trusting man, Alejandro. I suspect everyone, and your man Miguel was the only one other than my people to know the route we planned on taking.”

  Again he hesitated. I was sure that like me, he was weighing his words carefully for two good reasons. One, we were feeling each other out, getting a sense of the situation before making rash moves. And two, in this post-9/11 world, a man can never be sure whether his lines are being tapped. “I see. Well, have you heard from my man Miguel?”

  “As a matter of fact, we have. He’s talking to my son right now.”

  “And?”

  “We’re still listening to him,” I answered, letting him know Miguel was alive—for now. “We’d like to listen to you, too, if you have something to say.”

  “I’m in the dark about this as much as you, Lavernius. But with the loss occurring on your turf, after you took possession, you’re probably best equipped to find the answers you seek.”

  “We’re looking into it—and also into the murder of one of my employees last night. A man who worked in my Harlem operation. We called him Pablo. He was killed in front of his family. It’s a very troubling time.”

  “My condolences on the loss of your worker, and his family’s loss as well. Speaking of that, has Miguel mentioned mine? The ones that accompanied him? Should I be contacting their families as well?”

  “Can’t say, Alejandro. Your guess is as good as mine. Also, can’t say what happened to my cherished Corvette ... yet. Just an unfortunate set of circumstances all around. How about you replace what I lost, or at least refund my money?”

  “Ahhh, I cannot do that, my friend. You know how it is. Caveat emptor. Let the buyer beware. That money has already been spent. You must remember, I am just a middleman.”

  “Oh, yes. Your expansion into Vegas. Miguel told me about that. I’m just glad you’re not trying to expand into New York. Competition can sometimes be a killer—as I’m sure you know.”

  “Yes, it sure can,” he said grimly. “Lavernius, may I speak with Miguel? Maybe we can get this misunderstanding worked out.”

  “No can do, my friend. He’s a little tied up at the moment,” I taunted. “If you haven’t heard from him, I would assume he is too busy. Like I said, it’s a very troubling time for us. Luckily, Miguel’s volunteered to help us figure out what happened ... and where my car went. Really generous of him. Of course, I knew that when we met.”

  “That’s Miguel. Always willing to go the extra mile.”

  “Which he is doing right now. We’ll talk more soon,” I stated. “Maybe you’ll have some answers on your end by then.”

  “I hope one of us gets some answers for us, my friend, because I do not like the direction this is going.” His voice was low, but I could feel his anger.

  “Neither do I, Alejandro,” I said, matching his intensity. “Neither do I.”

  Orlando

  28

  The Van Wyck Expressway was crowded, and as I sat in traffic on the way back to the warehouse where Miguel was being held, I finally had some time to think about the events of last night. Before now, things had just been moving way too fast, and everything felt so fucking out of control. My father was on edge, and when he was stressed, everyone felt it. So, of course, we were all in panic mode, trying to figure out where the Roadster was and the quickest way to get it back.

  The most logical answer was that Miguel had something to do with the hijacking, but something about that didn’t feel quite right. If Miguel was involved, why would he waste his time fucking around with Paris instead of getting the hell out of New York? Hell, he could have jumped a plane ten minutes after I dropped him off. I didn’t care how good looking or persuasive Paris could be; she wasn’t worth his life, which was now clearly on the line. I guess it was possible he was just that cocky and thought he could play us dumb-ass niggers, maybe even use Paris as an alibi. Or perhaps he was just plain stupid. But I’d spent a lot of time with the man while putting the finishing touches on this deal, and I never saw that. Then there was the possibility he was innocent and was being played by Alejandro. I didn’t know what the truth was, but I was damn sure going to get to the bottom of this mystery. By the time I finished pumping a couple hundred cc of sodium amytal into his system, he was going to tell me anything I wanted to hear.

  Most people didn’t believe in truth serums, and that included my father, until he’d seen it work for himself. Now he had me keep enough of the stuff around to interrogate an army. I wondered what Ruby would think if she knew how I was really using my pharmaceutical degree.

  Ruby. Believe it or not, even with all this crazy shit on my mind, I was still constantly thinking about Ruby. I didn’t like the way I’d left things with her. I just kept seeing that expression on her face when I snapped at her about turning off my phone. But what did she expect? His cell phone and his radio: every woman should know those are two things you don’t fuck with when it comes to a man’s stuff. Of course, the real reason I was so pissed off that night was that someone had dared to steal from the Duncans, but Ruby’s stunt with my phone made her the target for my anger. Still, I felt bad about hurting her feelings, and something inside of me just needed to make things right with her.

  I took out my phone and hit one of the speed dial buttons.

  “Remy. It’s Orlando.”

  “Orlando. It’s always a pleasure. What can I do you for?” Remy said.

  “I need something from you.”

  “Well, you know I’ve got you covered. And your call is perfect timing. We have this new girl that—”

  “No. I don’t want to meet a new girl. I want you to set up something with Ruby again.”

  “Oh?” Remy sounded confused. “But after the way you left her at the restaurant, I thought—”

  I interrupted him. “Can you do that for me?”

  “I’m afraid not, my friend. Ruby has once again decided that she’s through working for us. Perhaps it is for the best, anyway. She was very emotional after your last date, and you and I both know that emotion is a no-no in this business.”

  “Get her back. I’ll pay triple if I have to.”

  “I don’t think you understand. She’s moved on. But there are others. I’ve got plenty of girls.”

  “Not like her, you don’t.”

  There was silence on the line. Remy probably didn’t know what to think. Me, the originator
of the one-date-only rule, suddenly demanding to see the same girl again, no matter what the cost. I was still a little shocked myself by how into this girl I was, so I was sure Remy was beyond confused.

  “Look, Remy,” I started. “I’ve been one of your best customers for a long time. If you won’t get Ruby back, then I need you to give me her phone number.”

  This time he wasn’t silent. This time Remy laughed at my request. “Come on, now. You know I’d do anything for you, but I can’t give you the personal number of one of my girls, current or former. If I did that, I’d be putting myself out of business here. You’re a businessman. You know that’s not how things work.”

  “I understand, but it’s not like that. I’m not trying to score behind your back,” I reasoned. “It’s just that something went down with Ruby and me. It was less business and more personal. I just need to clear some things up with her. That’s all. You can understand that, can’t you?”

  “Something like what?” I could hear the suspicion in his voice, but I didn’t blame him. I was acting way out of character, and he was just trying to protect his interests. Knowing it would only make him more leery if I tried to bullshit him, I went for the direct approach and told him the truth.

  “I flipped on her for turning off my phone. I think I hurt her feelings.”

  Remy laughed. “That’s what she gets paid for, Orlando, to take whatever you dish out. It doesn’t matter if you had a bad day. She’s supposed to grin and bear it. If she let her feelings get hurt, then that’s her own fucking fault. Don’t worry about her.”

  “I hear you, but I’d still like to get that number. Please, man.” Yes, I was that damn close to begging. Something about this girl had me wide open.

  I could almost see Remy shaking his head through the phone. “Come on, Orlando. Don’t put me in this type of position. You’re one of our best customers, but this goes against all the rules, and there are no exceptions to the rules in my line of work.”