by Marcus Weber
“So, what was the outcome of the meetings? Did it make a dent in our bottom line?” Emil asked, trying hard to keep his cool.
“Hell yeah! I’m telling you, our distributors are all suspicious that our connects are drying up. Max put that word out on the street. I’m having a hard fucking time keeping them on board,” Jackson continued, not mincing his words.
Emil didn’t allow a lot of things to take him back to his days in the streets, but when that side of him was dragged up, it was apparent that he had a short fuse and a penchant for extreme violence when the situation called for it.
He stood brooding, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He stared out of the double-sided mirror and glanced out at the bruised, bleeding body on the other side.
“Make sure Antonio gets caught up to speed. He’s a new face, and we will need him. Obviously, we are at war,” Emil said evenly. “Make sure Hayden is made aware of my wishes. Antonio has to be the face in changing this tide. I didn’t bring him into the fold for nothing. You know me better than that. I don’t pay penance to anybody... not even someone claiming to be my son.”
Chapter 6
Changing Faces
“G,” Max King grunted, standing up to greet his old friend.
“Max,” Gladstone Tillary sang, clapping his left hand on Max’s shoulder. “It’s been a while.”
“Obviously, too damn long,” Max said, motioning for Gladstone to sit down and eyeing the beautiful, young woman standing at his side. Max nodded, and one of his men rushed over and pulled out a chair for the statuesque woman. Gladstone pulled out his own chair.
“Max, this is Lori. Lori, this is Max, my old, old—” Gladstone began.
“That’s enough ‘olds,’ you bastard,” Max chimed with a slight hint of amusement in his tone. It was as much lightheartedness he was going to allow. He nodded at Lori but didn’t greet her with words.
Max took his seat across from Gladstone and motioned for his henchmen to step back so they could have some privacy.
“What are you drinking?” Gladstone asked, picking up the drink menu and handing it to Lori. “And what’s with the open meeting tonight? Something change?”
Roberto’s was their usual meeting spot. Gladstone looked around and noticed that this time, Max hadn’t closed the restaurant down for their meeting. It made Gladstone slightly uncomfortable. He was more of a creature of habit. Max and Gladstone’s childhood friend, Salvatore, owned Roberto’s, and over the years, he had allowed Max and Gladstone to close down the restaurant so that they could dine in private along with their mistresses or other businessmen that Gladstone might not want to be seen with in public. In the past, Gladstone would enter through the front and Max would enter through the side or back. Salvatore never complained. He was loyal to both, as Max had given him his start-up money for his first restaurant, and Gladstone had helped put him on the front page by holding campaign events at his restaurants.
“Why the public meeting, suddenly?” Gladstone asked again, looking around. Although the restaurant wasn’t crowded, it still unnerved him. He’d always preached to Max that the day they started changing up their routines was the day shit would go left in their dealings.
Max grunted and furrowed his brow. Gladstone knew him well enough to know that meant he was furious. Gladstone knew all about how Max had been losing a lot of money since he couldn’t beat Emil Cartwright’s drug prices, and the younger gamblers preferred Emil’s gambling spots.
“We need to speak in private,” Max said, his tone serious. “What I need to speak to you about is not for everyone’s ears.” Max’s eyed Lori suspiciously.
“Trust me, Lori is fine,” Gladstone assured. “She’s my behind-the-scenes person. Who do you think handles the things the good upstanding senator can’t? The dirty work . . . .” Gladstone said, putting his arm around Lori’s shoulders and pulling her in for a kiss. She smiled at him but shot Max a dirty look.
“Suit yourself. I have nothing to lose . . . especially to some pussy,” Max said, throwing his hands up and leaning into the table. “I’m not fucking happy about Cartwright getting off this last time.” Max gritted his teeth. His chest started to heave.
Gladstone chuckled. “Are we back on this? I told you. We lodged an airtight case against him, but just like you, he has the money to buy his way out of shit,” he said flatly. “It won’t always work. Like a cat with nine lives, Emil’s will run out sooner or later.”
“The amount of money I’ve shelled out to you and your so-called people in high law enforcement positions to take down Emil . . . yet, he is still standing. Not only is he standing, but he’s also getting stronger and richer. At my fucking expense,” Max spat, a large vein at this left temple throbbing fiercely against his midnight skin.
Gladstone put his hands up in surrender. “Max . . . Max, c’mon. Be reasonable. You of all people know that none of us could’ve known that Emil would hire Penski, a former federal prosecutor, who knew all of the government’s tricks before they used them. Penski is better than Johnny Cochran in his heyday. We had the judge in our pocket, and he did everything he could to sway the case in the government’s favor. I mean . . . it was blatant. He was constantly ruling against Emil’s defense’s motions, objections, and he suppressed a bunch of the evidence favorable to Emil. It wasn’t enough. Penski is just that fucking good.”
“He should’ve done more,” Max hissed.
“Do more and make it look obvious that Emil would win the case on appeal and have it overturned anyway? Then we wouldn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell at getting him again. Now, at least, if we find the strongest dirt possible, something so concrete that it can’t be contested, we can bring him down without looking like it’s been a conspiracy against him all along,” Gladstone explained.
Lori shifted in her seat.
“You okay, sweetheart?”
“I’m going to run to the ladies,” she replied with a weak smile.
Gladstone followed her ass with his eyes.
“Mmm, mmm, mmm. She does it to me,” he huffed.
Max looked at Gladstone and shook his head. “I have to get this motherfucker, Emil. With his hand in the motherfucking cookie jar.”
“Red-handed is the only way at this point,” Gladstone conceded. “Emil is a smart dude.”
“Get that washed-up NBA son-in-law of yours to get the dirt on his sperm donor daddy,” Max said facetiously.
“Antonio doesn’t have a relationship with Emil. He barely knows him.”
“I thought you were in the know, man,” Max teased, leaning back like he had a deep, dark secret. “You mean to tell me the big badass senator doesn’t know what’s going on in his own family? Shit, they been keeping secrets from you, bruh.”
Gladstone crumpled his face and tugged at his tie. The idea that something might be going on that he didn’t know about immediately made his entire body feel hot.
“I’m more than in the know,” he replied, sipping his drink.
“Oh yeah? So, what, y’all just don’t discuss new jobs over Sunday dinner?” Max laughed.
“What are you getting at?” Gladstone shot back. Now he was pissed.
Max chuckled some more and took a long swig from his glass. He could see the tension building in Gladstone’s face. That friendly yet competitive spirit was sitting right at the surface, threatening to spill over into an angry exchange.
“I thought you made sure you knew what was going on with your baby girl, Paige, since she married that former homeless kid,” Max said, slapping Gladstone in his face with his words.
“Get to the fucking point,” Gladstone shot back.
Max smiled wickedly. “Your son-in-law works for his daddy, Emil, now. And, I heard he is balls-in on all sides of the business. I would think that puts your precious Paige in jeopardy, wouldn’t you? I mean, at best, it fucks with your reputation as a stand-up government representative, no? Shit, what will the world think when they find out Paige Tillary is married to t
he other side of the black mafia?”
Gladstone’s jaw tensed, and his insides felt like he’d just swallowed a fiery torch. This had to be a lie! Antonio wasn’t exactly who he’d envisioned for his daughter, but he certainly wasn’t a gangster by any stretch. Gladstone used his polished politician skills to mask his feelings, but he knew Max could see right through it. “I’m sure you have it confused,” Gladstone said evenly.
“Nah, I have it right. I thought that would motivate you to help me take Emil down. It’s going to be a shit storm when it gets out that your daughter actually married into the Cartwright family and your golden boy, MVP, All-Star son-in-law is not the star everyone thought he was,” Max said, his words like a million flies buzzing in Gladstone’s ears.
Gladstone swallowed hard. There was no way that he could allow Emil to come along after all this time and muddy the Tillary name with his corruption and his reputation as a gangster in a suit.
* * *
Senator Tillary thought back to the first day that Paige had brought that no-good baller into his house. She had just turned seventeen. He and her mother had spent thousands of dollars getting her ready for prom. The dress, the shoes, the hair and makeup—everything cost money, and Gladstone was happy to spend it if it meant his little girl would be happy. It seemed like just yesterday that she had walked down the stairs in their enormous mansion, a house that only generations and generations of money and political power could buy. She looked like royalty as she descended the curved staircase into the marble foyer. But she looked nervous.
“Daddy,” she started, “I want you to meet my—” Paige cut herself off and Gladstone could see her hesitating. He was a protective father by nature. He knew what bad things were out there, what lay waiting for beautiful young girls like his daughter. He knew what she was trying to say. Lillian came into the foyer from the kitchen holding a glass of water, each for her and Gladstone. Their interactions as always were cool, but civil.
“Did you know that your daughter has a boyfriend?” asked Gladstone. He thought that Paige’s nervousness was sweet. Lillian sipped her water dramatically.
“Does she now?” Lillian exclaimed in the style of a Southern belle. “When are we going to meet this impressive young man?”
Paige groaned at the thought of her parents interrogating Antonio the way they had interrogated every boy she had brought home before then. Usually them just showing up to meet her parents was a demonstration of bravery in and of itself. But two seconds after they made eye-contact with her naturally intimidating father, Paige was single once more.
“Daddy, please,” Paige pleaded. The doorbell rang, and suddenly they were all out of time. It was time to face the music and the Senator. Paige model-walked over to the door, her puffy Carolina Herrera dress moving around her hips almost like it was independent of her body, her six-inch red bottoms clicking gracefully with each step. She swung the door open, and there stood Antonio. For the first time in her life, Lillian heard Gladstone gasp as he stood next to her.
“Mom, Dad,” Paige started, “this is Antonio Roberts. We met at a basketball game a couple of months ago.” Of course, this was a lie, but considering her having left the house on the night she actually met Antonio was also based on a lie, there wasn’t much she could do now to fix the situation.
“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Tillary,” Antonio greeted respectfully. He knew deep down that they could tell he didn’t come from money. The tuxedo he had saved up to rent had a somewhat mothy smell to it, even after he doused himself in Yves Saint Laurent cologne. In the tuxedo’s defense, it was Antonio’s own fault he had gone to some small shop off of Grand Concourse. However, while Lillian made note of Antonio’s biggest worry, Gladstone was stuck on something else.
It had taken Senator Tillary’s catlike reflexes to not drop the glass he was holding when he saw Antonio Robert’s face. Or should he say Emil Cartwright’s eyes, and his lips, and his prominent cheekbones. There was no denying that one of the Cartwright bloodline had just stepped into his house.
“Roberts, you say?” Gladstone asked softly. Lillian looked at him, surprised. Gladstone was a lot of things, and soft was never one of them. He saw her reaction and raised his voice. “Where are you from, son?” he asked, already knowing the answer. Or so he thought.
Antonio didn’t know what to say. Any answer he gave would be embarrassing. But there was no way around it.
“I grew up in the Patterson Houses,” Antonio said, trying to hold himself up as straight as possible.
Gladstone Tillary didn’t like being lied to. He told himself that he needed to talk to this boy alone. There was no way that a Cartwright would walk into his house uninvited without an ulterior motive.
“Lillian,” said Gladstone, “why don’t you take Paige upstairs so that she can grab her purse.” Lillian, who knew her husband and all of his moods, took the hint. Paige groaned. She thought that he was about to do the classic Dad Talk, tell Antonio not to kiss her, leave room for Jesus and whatnot.
“Okay, dear,” said Lillian. She shepherded Paige up the ornate staircase, closing the door to the master bedroom behind her. Antonio audibly gulped.
“So, Roberts, you said?” asked Gladstone, making his way toward a hall off the main foyer. Antonio dragged his feet to follow. They entered a kitchen with a ceiling higher than any Antonio had ever seen in someone’s private home. The counters were the same marble as the floor in the entryway. Everything here was tailored to perfection. Antonio was out of his league. Gladstone made his way to the counter and pulled a bottle of wine out of the fridge, pouring what could only have been a deep and expensive red into a crystal glass.
“Yeah, just Antonio Roberts, no middle name,” Antonio said awkwardly. He didn’t know where to stand or what to do in this situation. Gladstone was drinking more money than Antonio had ever seen.
“What do your parents do for a living?” Gladstone said into his wine glass before his eyes darted up to meet Antonio’s. They were standing farther away from each other than was normal and the tension only built.
“My mom is a hairdresser,” Antonio said. It was only his embarrassment that kept him from adding the word “sometimes” at the end.
“And your father?” Gladstone asked quietly, pushing Antonio to what could only blow his cover. Antonio was embarrassed again but couldn’t think of a quick enough lie.
“Honestly, sir, I’ve never met him.”
Gladstone considered this. It wouldn’t surprise him if Emil Cartwright had fathered some bastard child somewhere. But to leave him in poverty? There was no way that the Cartwrights would let that fly, there was no way Gladstone could know the truth. Either way, he wasn’t going to let this broke ass kid from the projects come into his life, let alone his daughter’s.
“How much money will it take?” said Gladstone.
“Excuse me, sir?” asked Antonio, wildly confused.
“How much money will it take for you to never see my daughter again?”
Antonio was floored. He thought stuff like this only happened in movies.
“With all due respect, sir,” Antonio began, “Paige is worth more to me than any number you could give me.”
Gladstone’s face went dark. “Son, I don’t give a fuck what you think my daughter is worth. My reputation is worth more,” growled the Senator. It was then that Lillian entered the kitchen with Paige. Both men jumped. The two girls were laughing, but the tension still hung in the air.
“Ready to go, boo?” said Paige, happily. Antonio looked at Gladstone. If looks could kill, they would both be dead.
“Yeah, baby girl, I’m ready.”
* * *
The sway of Lori’s hips brought Gladstone back to reality. He and Max looked over at the same time and watched as she sauntered toward them. It was a welcome interruption.
“That is one beautiful distraction. I see why you don’t know what’s going on around you,” Max said, flashing a smile. “Better close those nose holes an
d get your shit together.”
Gladstone already knew Max and all of his men would have their eyes on Lori. She was hands down the most beautiful and sultriest out of all the extracurricular women that Gladstone had ever brought around.
Max could tell by the way Gladstone fawned over Lori and looked at her, he was into her heavy. Maybe a little too heavy.
“Just be careful. All it takes is one of them to bring you down,” Max warned, nodding in Lori’s direction. He was right. They’d both grown up in the shadows of the U.S. Capitol and had seen more than a handful of powerful politicians lose everything because they’d fallen blindly for a woman who wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a short-lived fling.
“One of them you’d gladly take off my hands if I allowed it,” Gladstone shot back. He knew Max cared about him, but he also knew Max was worried about losing the benefits that Gladstone’s position afforded him. Gladstone sensed that Max was jealous and most likely wished he had Lori by his side.
Max threw his hands up. “Suit yourself, Senator,” Max replied. “Just trying to help out an old friend, that’s all.”
“I’m Gladstone Tillary, and there ain’t a bitch pretty enough to make me lose sight of my life and my family’s name. Now, why don’t you focus on finding that solid dirt on Emil, and not who I’m fucking?”
Max laughed loudly. “Same old Gladstone. Mr. Untouchable. Mr. Know-it-all. Mr. In-control.”
Gladstone opened his mouth but didn’t get a chance to speak.
“I’m back, baby,” Lori sang, taking her seat.
“Back indeed,” Max said snidely, dropping his fabric napkin on top of his half-eaten veal.
“I’ll leave you two to it. I’ve already taken care of the tab for anything you order,” Max said, standing up and buttoning his suit jacket. His henchmen moved to his side and prepared to exit the restaurant.
Gladstone stood up, plastered on a fake smile, and shook Max’s hand vigorously. “I’ll consider everything we spoke about and I’ll have my people get in touch,” Gladstone said, trying to make it seem all about business.