The Family Business 2

by Carl Weber

  When the dust settled, there were only three bad guys left, each hiding behind one of my family members. Orlando and Junior were being held at gunpoint by big-ass Mexican-looking motherfuckers, while Daddy had a .44 Magnum pressed against his skull by a curvy Latino woman who looked like she meant business.

  “Okay, bitch, before I blow your fucking head off, who the fuck are you and why do you have a gun to my father’s head?” I had one of the laser sights aimed directly at her head. I could have dropped her easily, but there was no telling if she’d get a shot off and kill Daddy first. For now I wasn’t willing to take that chance.

  “Drop your gun, chica, or your family is dead,” she said.

  “You kill them, I kill you,” I said, my voice as deadly calm as hers. “Oh, and my cousin up there kills your men.” I gestured to the catwalk. Everyone but me looked up.

  “Hi.” Sasha waved at them, the red dot from her laser sight centered on the chest of the guy with a gun to Orlando’s head.

  “Now, let go of my old man and maybe I’ll think about letting you live.”

  “You would let your father and brothers die?” the Mexican broad probed.

  “To save the rest of the family, hell yeah. That’s what he’d want me to do. Isn’t that right, Daddy?”

  “That’s right, baby girl. The Duncans aren’t about one part. We are about the whole.” Despite his predicament, Daddy laughed. “Consuela, I can tell you right now my daughter means business—and she doesn’t miss.” He turned to the guy with the sight on his chest. “Neither does her cousin.” The guy tried to hide more of his body behind Orlando, but Sasha just moved the dot to his head.

  “Now drop the guns or I’ll shoot this bitch right between the eyes,” I threatened the two holding my brothers.

  They started to lower their weapons until that crazy heifer started angrily speaking Spanish to them. Then all of a sudden they raised their weapons again and she smiled.

  “We are on a mission of revenge,” she said. “If we die, our deaths are just a consequence of that revenge.”

  “I will drop you!” I warned her.

  “Not before I drop him.” She had the gall to tap the gun against the side of Daddy’s head. She cocked the hammer back. “You shoot me and the gun is going to go off. I may die today, but I’m going to take LC Duncan with me. That’s all I care about.” I could see from her eyes that the fucking crazy-ass bitch meant every word.

  “What the hell did my father do to you?”

  “Your father destroyed my life. He killed my husband and my son. He took away any reason I had for living, so I couldn’t care less if you kill me, as long as I kill him.” She was angry, but she also appeared to be close to breaking into pieces at the same time.

  And just like that, shit clicked. “Oh my God. You . . . you’re Miguel’s mother, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, Miguel was my son.” Shit, she did not look nearly old enough to be Miguel’s mother. London had better find out who this woman used for her Botox and shit because London’s ass was looking old next to her.

  “I knew Miguel well,” I told her. “I liked him. He was a good guy. But my father didn’t kill him.”

  Because I did, I thought.

  It made no difference to her. “He may not have pulled the trigger,” she said, “but he was responsible. Because of him I have lost my reason for living. I have lost everything!” She was crying uncontrollably now, and it was scaring me. One wrong move and that damn gun would blow Daddy’s head off.

  “No, Consuela, you haven’t.” All eyes turned to my mother, who was holding Jordan. Somehow she had kept him quiet during this whole ruckus. “You haven’t lost everything. You gained so much and you don’t even know it.” Momma got up out of her seat, walking toward the crazy woman. She walked right in front of me.

  “Momma, sit down. You’re getting in the way of my shot,” I mumbled under my breath.

  My mother gave me a look that shut me up then she turned back to Consuela. “You haven’t lost everything, Consuela. You still have your grandson.”

  “What are you talking about?” Consuela looked even more confused and deranged. “What kind of trick do you speak?”

  “Momma?” I shouted. Not only did a crazy woman have a gun to my father’s head, but all of a sudden my mother was having a nervous breakdown with my child in her arms. “Momma, get out the way!”

  “Hush,” my mother scolded with a quick glance.

  She held up my son. “Consuela, this is Jordan. Your grandson.”

  “Oh, shit! I guess it’s out now,” Rio cracked.

  While he was making jokes, I felt like I was going to be sick. What the fuck was my mother doing?

  “That is impossible,” Consuela shouted, but I noticed the gun wasn’t as tight against Daddy’s head anymore. “You are a liar.”

  “Am I? Look at him. You tell me.”

  Consuela studied my mother’s face.

  “Your son Miguel and my daughter, I’m embarrassed to say, were intimate.”

  “Yes, he told me about your daughter’s interest in him.”

  “My interest in him? It takes two to tango. I didn’t fuck myself!” I snapped in a momentary second of frustrated anger, until I caught my father’s eye. “I mean, he was just as interested in me.”

  Momma continued. “After his death Paris found out that she was pregnant.”

  “What are you saying?” Consuela’s voice shook as she spoke.

  “I’m saying that Jordan is a product of their intimacy. Grandmother to grandmother, that is your son’s baby,” Momma said, using almost the exact same words she’d spoken to Trevor’s mother. God forbid one of them ever asked for a paternity test to prove what my mother had told them.

  “You’re lying!” Consuela shouted, but I could tell she wasn’t so certain anymore.

  Momma got up in her face. “You’ve known me for twenty-five years, Consuela. When have I ever lied to you? I told you the truth about my own son.” As soon as Momma said the words, all eyes searched around the table. More than a few landed on Orlando.

  “What son?” I yelled at my mother.

  Despite the gun to his head, Orlando threw up his hands, protesting his innocence. “Don’t look at me. This is a Vegas thing.”

  Consuela spoke again. “Is that really my grandson?”

  “Yes, that’s your son’s baby. Look at him. He’s wearing your son’s face,” Momma told her, stroking Jordan.

  Consuela stepped closer to my mother, trying to get a better look at the baby. “Can I hold him?” She let go of her gun, her anger evaporating. I didn’t give a shit. I kept my laser sight pointed right between her fucking eyes.

  “Yes, of course,” my mother replied, handing her my son. “What about your men? If we are going to be family, we all must show some good faith.”

  “Drop your weapons,” Consuela commanded. When her men hesitated, she screamed something in Spanish that obviously included a string of curses. This time they did what they were told.

  “He does have Miguel’s eyes and his nose, doesn’t he?” She smiled down at Jordan, searching his face as she spoke to him in Spanish.

  My mother nodded happily as Consuela hugged my son tightly against her bosom. She lowered her head and kissed him. That was enough for me.

  “Momma, take my baby out of that bitch’s hands so I can kill her,” I barked. What the fuck was wrong with these people? This wasn’t a Lifetime movie. This bitch had just invaded our home, killed all our security, and, I realized as I looked down at the ground, killed Tor—who, as far as I was concerned, probably deserved to be dead, but that was beside the point.

  “Paris, put your gun down! Can’t you see your mother has this under control?” Daddy growled, the look in his eyes forcing me to lower my weapon. As far as I was concerned, this shit was not ending the way it was supposed to.

  Junior

  50

  I’d just stood there and watched my mother perform what most people would call a m
iracle. She’d just talked a woman who was way past her breaking point out of killing Orlando, Pop, me, and possibly our entire family. And she did it all with a baby in her arms. Go figure.

  As soon as Consuela’s henchman lowered the gun from my head, I took a deep breath then turned toward Sonya. “You okay?” Considering the situation, she looked surprisingly calm. No tears, just a little shaken up, which was totally understandable. I was pretty damn shaken up myself.

  “I’m fine, but I wasn’t the one with a gun pointed at his head,” she replied then glanced over at Tor’s lifeless body. “Are you okay? That could have been you.” She touched my face gently as her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know what I would have done if something happened to you.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m okay.” I gave her a reassuring peck on the lips. “Look, I want you to go with my sister London and help her with the babies.” I pointed at my sister and Mariah, who were headed for the door, but she hesitated.

  “Junior, I’m a nurse. I can help.”

  I looked down at the carnage around us and shook my head. “You can’t help these people, Sonya.” She gave me this helpless look. “I know you have a lot of questions. We’ll talk in a little while. I promise. Just go with London for now, please. She’s going to need help with Mariah and the baby.”

  She hugged me then reluctantly walked toward the door. I watched her pick up my oldest niece then disappear through the door to safety. I had no idea how I was going to explain this all to her later.

  I turned my attention toward Consuela. She was holding my nephew Jordan, cuddling him like she didn’t have a care in the world. Mom and Pop seemed to have her under control for the moment, while Sasha and Paris were keeping an eye on her guys. I still couldn’t believe what the hell had just happened, and the drama was far from over. Sure, the immediate threat from Consuela and her men seemed to have subsided, but there was still the problem of getting rid of the dead bodies and keeping the staff quiet. We lived on a larger piece of land, pretty far off the beaten track, but who knew if one of our neighbors had heard any shots and called the police?

  I leaned over and picked up Tor’s gun then made my way to the door to peek into the foyer. The fucking place looked like a war zone, with four more dead bad guys and the smashed-in front door. Knowing Paris and Sasha, we would find even more dead bodies outside and around the grounds.

  Walking over to Paris, I whispered in her ear. “I’m about to call housekeeping. I count five in here and four in the foyer. How many we got outside?”

  “At least twelve counting our guys, but we were quiet,” she whispered back.

  “Let’s hope so.”

  “Junior, we really going to let this bitch get away with this?” Paris asked. Her eyes moved back and forth between Consuela and her men. She looked like she was hoping someone would make a wrong move.

  I glanced over at my parents, who were talking to Consuela like nothing had happened.

  “For right now, little sister, yeah. I think we are.”

  “This is some bullshit. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Maybe, but Consuela is nothing compared to her father and brothers. If we kill her, we have no idea what might be coming at us. Besides, do you really wanna kill Jordan’s grandmother?”

  Paris glared at Consuela then back at me, speaking in a low tone. “Yes, I wanna kill the bitch.”

  “Well, don’t,” I said sternly. “Best to lick our wounds, count our blessings, and live another day.”

  “Whatever. I don’t wanna hear that Sun Tzu crap.”

  I glanced over at Orlando, who was talking to our housekeeping staff. It looked like he had that under control, so I reached for my phone and dialed a very special number.

  An Asian man answered on the third ring. “Hello. Johnny’s twenty-four hour dry cleaning. How can I help you?”

  “Uh, hey, this is JD, account four-four-five-eight-seven. I have some dry cleaning that really needs to be cleaned.”

  “Is this a pick-up or delivery, JD?”

  “It’s a pick-up.” I gave them the address.

  “How many shirts do you have, JD?”

  “I’m thinking about twenty. And they are all pretty soiled.”

  “Wow, that’s a lot of shirts. Can I recommend starch with that? Last time we did your laundry, you wanted starch and bleach.”

  Oh, God. I was really slipping. Last time we used Johnny’s was when Uncle Lou died. “Yes, definitely. Starch and bleach. The sooner the better, spare no expense. I want these shirts as clean as possible.”

  “No problem, JD. We’ll take care of the starch right away. See you in twenty minutes or less.”

  Starch was code for a distraction to keep the police occupied, and bleach was a chemical used to break down the blood and destroy any DNA. In our case, I’d asked for a lot of starch, so I would imagine that somewhere in Queens, probably over near Kennedy Airport, there was about to be a sniper or a bomb threat. I was sure I would read about it in the paper the next day.

  Ruby

  51

  “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” The stocky reverend closed his Bible and smiled at us as Vinnie grabbed my waist and pulled me in for our first kiss as husband and wife.

  I looked out at the rich blue Caribbean Sea. It felt great to be home, and being Mrs. Vincent Dash took things to a whole new level. When I said that I’d marry him, I had been at the height of my grief over Randy’s death. Vinnie had spared no expense trying to help ease my pain, and that included throwing me a wedding far more grand than I’d ever expected. I thought we’d have a simple ceremony on the beach surrounded by my family, friends, and our soldiers, but Vinnie had put together the fantasy wedding of any little girl’s dream.

  “You’re only going to get married one time,” he’d said, explaining why he wanted to go all out for our special day. He’d rented out a string of private villas in Discovery Bay for the weekend and made sure everyone close to us was put up with all expenses covered. He even surprised me by buying a beautiful princess dress with a veil and a train. He wore a tuxedo and presented me with the most exquisite diamond ring.

  All of his preparation and fanfare made me see Vinnie in an entirely different light. Well, maybe it wasn’t a new light, but rather one that I hadn’t seen in a long time. He’d gone back to treating me the way he had when we first started dating, back when I was still pregnant. This man made sure all of my needs were met. If he wasn’t taking a meeting or getting familiar with the island, he hovered over me and little Vincent, making sure that we felt safe and loved. I guess my brother Randy had been correct all along—marrying Vinnie was the right choice for me.

  When it came to Randy, Vinnie spoke of him only with the highest regard. We were both hit hard by his death, and I was sure that once we settled in as husband and wife, we would be in a powerful position to exact revenge on the Duncan family. People had begun to take me seriously, and this would become even more so now that I was married to the boss. I was no longer Randy’s little annoying sister, and if I had my way, I would become a force to be reckoned with.

  Vinnie took my hand and we walked down the makeshift aisle as husband and wife. As we entered the reception area where our guests were already digging in to the hors d’oeuvres and cocktails, Vinnie left me briefly to speak to the event coordinator. I used that opportunity to make one last phone call.

  “Hey,” I said as I stared out at the sea.

  “Ruby? Where are you?” He sounded worried and desperate, just as I thought.

  “I’m where I need to be.”

  “I need to warn you about Vinnie,” he shouted into the receiver.

  “Warn me about what?” I felt myself seething at his nerve.

  “You don’t know everything.”

  “I don’t want to hear no more of your filthy lies,” I spat. “Not after what you did to my brother.”

  “What?” His voice grew more desperate. “I don’t know what you think
happened, Ruby, but you have to let me explain. You don’t know what Vinnie is capable of.”

  “I know everything I need to know about my husband.” I shot the words out like bullets, hoping they caused him pain.

  “Your husband! How could you marry him!” he yelled at me as if my choice was his business.

  I took a deep breath, looking around me at my beautiful island and the gorgeous affair Vinnie had put together for me. “Unlike you, who abandoned me every chance that you got, he has always been there for me.”

  “But you don’t understand!” His words were coming quick, in short, distressed bursts.

  “I understand that you are trying to fill my head with lies, Orlando.”

  “Ruby, please listen to me,” he pleaded, but my heart had turned to stone at the sound of his voice. No amount of begging would change anything.

  I looked across the property at Vinnie, who was now conferring with a few of the new guys we’d recruited since arriving in Jamaica. At first I’d had to convince Ralphie, the guy my brother had left in charge here, that he could trust Vinnie. In Jamaica, the instinct was to stick close to your own kind. It wasn’t simply a black/white issue, but local versus foreigner; however, once they understood Vinnie’s background and his commitment to me and to Randy, they began to trust him. We helped the men to see that together we would lead them into the future and offer them a better quality of life. If they stuck with us, they had the opportunity to prosper. Eventually, each and every one of them could obtain the American dream and return home rich and respected.

  Our next stop would be Kingston to recruit more men into our growing army. And then revenge would be mine.

  “The next time we meet I won’t be so nice,” I said to Orlando. “One of us will die, and it won’t be me,” I promised him.

  “Ruby, no!”

  “And just so you know, I am raising your son to hate you as much as I do. So if by chance you happen to outlive me, he will hunt you down like a dog in your old age and stick you with an ice pick for his mother.”