“Fo’ real?”
“Yeah. Muthafucka had on Kevlar though. Smart man.”
Deuce chuckled. “That’s why you always aim for these niggas’ heads. Ain’t no vest protectin’ your fuckin’ skull.”
“Right, right.”
“And that bitch?”
“Lucky? She’s been quiet so far.”
Deuce said, “I would love to get the entire family in one room and just have my way with them. Ooh, the fun I would have.”
Jimmy chuckled. “I can only imagine.”
“I love his wife, though. Layla a fine bitch for her age. The fun my dick would have with her . . .”
“I hear she’s a piece of work.”
“That’s fine with me. You know I like these bitches feisty because I can get feisty right back.”
Jimmy smiled. His boss did. He’d cleaned up his last mess with the stripper. Deuce killed her with his bare hands, asphyxiating her. It was an easy mess to clean up.
“When I get my second shot at this nigga, it’s all head shots. I’m not missing,” Deuce proclaimed.
“I got my peoples on it. He’ll turn up again.”
They continued to watch the house with little activity happening. Deuce lit another cigarette.
Fifteen minutes later, Deuce’s cell phone buzzed. He answered, the conversation was quick, and he hung up. “I’m out. Let me know what happens,” he said to Jimmy and Neal.
“Will do,” Jimmy replied.
Deuce exited the vehicle and walked opposite from the house they were watching. A block away, he got into the passenger seat of a silver Lexus GS, and it drove off.
33
The Sunday evening brought about an extensive orange glow across the Brooklyn sky, as the sun was trying to shine the last of its ocher limbs over the urban rooftops. The streets were calm, and the people were out and about as a crisp chill sliced through the area. For many, it was a regular fall day in Brooklyn, with the World Series approaching and several NFL games showing on millions of TV screens across the nation.
But Sunday wasn’t just an average day for Layla. Earlier in the morning, she had transported fifty million dollars via semi trucks to Florida. It was more money than the majority of the nation would ever see in their lifetime.
Layla couldn’t help being nervous. If anything went wrong with the transport—if word somehow got back to Scott of what she had done, she was a dead woman. Scott would become more than furious. So everything had to go right. She was smart enough to place GPS trackers inside the steel drums, so she could watch the money’s movement from state to state.
She stopped her Range Rover in front of the Brooklyn home. This time, she came alone. There wasn’t a caravan of black SUVs or armed soldiers protecting her. She wanted to see and speak to Maxine alone. She wasn’t glamorous like her usual self, wearing a burgundy jumpsuit, colorful Nikes, no makeup, and her hair pulled back into a ponytail. Things were different at the moment.
She climbed out of the Range and walked toward the front door. She exhaled quickly and knocked. She glanced around her surroundings. The block was typical and quiet. A few neighbors eyed her from where they lingered, but there was nothing to worry about.
The front door opened, and Maxine loomed. Immediately, Layla was taken aback by her refreshing appearance. The makeover was remarkable. Layla wasn’t expecting this much of a change from her friend. Maxine had lightened and cut her long hair into short layers, which brought out her chestnut brown eyes. Her thick eyebrows were arched, and her lips were covered with a nude lip gloss. Twenty years later, Maxine was even more beautiful.
“Layla, hey.”
“Can I come in? Can we talk?” Layla asked humbly.
Maxine had to hold in her anticipation, figuring Layla was there to speak about her dead son, Bugsy. The fact she was alone was almost surprising. But it was about time. She’d been calling Layla for days but hadn’t received a return phone call yet.
“Yeah, sure. Come inside.” Maxine stepped aside for Layla to enter the house.
“Where’s your mother?”
“I sent her on a cruise with her friend.”
Layla didn’t care for Maxine’s mother. She thought the old woman was a bitch.
“Is everything okay, Layla?”
“I need a friend right now.”
“Of course, I’m here for you always,” Maxine said. “What’s going on?”
“Come with me,” Layla blurted out.
“Come with you? To where?”
“To Florida for a few weeks.”
“Florida? Why?”
“So we can catch up on lost time. So we can talk.”
“To just catch up on lost time and talk? Why do we need to go to Florida to talk and to catch up on lost time? Did something happen? Is everything okay with the family?”
“The family’s fine.”
“That’s good to hear,” Maxine said, trying to hold back her shock. Bugsy was dead. Why was Layla not admitting that? Suddenly, Max felt very threatened. Had Layla finally figured it out? Was her life now in danger? What game was she playing and why? She couldn’t dwell on it right now. Layla was standing right in front of her face, and she had to continue with her façade.
“I just don’t want to be alone right now, Maxine. You stood strong for me, and I respect that.”
“I’m on parole. I just can’t up and leave the state like that. I have to check in weekly.”
“Don’t worry about your parole; I can take care of it.”
Maxine was skeptical. Was it all a ruse to set her up for something violent and murderous to come? Miguel told her that Bugsy was a ghost, took four to the chest. Even if he had survived and was laying up in ICU, Layla would have told her unless Miguel had lied to her.? Maxine didn’t know what was going on, but it was all suspect.
“Come to Florida with me, and I’ll have my connections with law enforcement handle your parole officer. What’s his name?”
“David Liberty.”
“I’ll make the nigga an offer he won’t refuse.”
Maxine was still uncertain. She could be walking into something dangerous. Florida could be her last stop. But Layla was adamant and wasn’t taking no for an answer.
“Okay, I’ll go.”
Layla smiled. “Pack light. I’ll take you shopping once we’re there.”
***
Maxine was floored when the Escalade drove onto the tarmac of the Long Island airport and stopped in front of the idling Learjet 60. Long and lean, it looked like a bullet with wings. The stunted stairs were down, and the pilots and worker were nearby, waiting to assist them with any luggage from the vehicle to the plane. The back door opened, and the ladies were ushered out and greeted with respect. Since Maxine was with Layla, the staff treated her like she was a boss bitch too.
“Good evening, Mrs. West,” the pilot greeted them. “She’s gassed up and ready for flight right away.”
“Good. I’m ready to leave as soon as possible,” Layla said.
The pilots were white and middle-aged. They dressed in bright white shirts with gold wings pinned above their pockets.
Maxine remained in awe. She was about to board a private plane for the first time. She went from prison to first class, and though she still felt some nervousness about the trip to Florida, she couldn’t help feeling excited.
The ladies boarded the Learjet. It was a mid-sized cabin with a 15-inch aisle to provide additional space for comfort and maneuverability throughout the cabin. The seats were white leather with removable armrest caps and panels and berthing capabilities. The interior was also equipped with a 24-inch flat-screen monitor and Wi-Fi connection.
The pilots boarded the plane and positioned themselves into the cockpit and were ready to raise their bird into the sky.
Maxine sat across from Lay
la, who played the part of a veteran flyer—nothing was new to her. She remained nonchalant, busying herself with her smartphone for a moment as she waited for the plane to taxi and take off.
As the jet taxied on the tarmac, Maxine fixed her eyes out the window. They had their own flight attendant—a man dressed nicely in a white shirt, blue tie, and black pants. Smiling widely, he poured bubbly champagne into two glasses and served them to the ladies.
“Whatever you want, don’t be afraid to ask,” Layla said.
Maxine downed the champagne and asked for more.
The take-off went well. The nose of the plane levitated, and the jet soared into the air smoothly, cutting through the sky like the wind itself. It was a beautiful fall day, and the plane ascended thousands of feet into the sky and soon leveled off.
Maxine still kept her eyes out the window, staring at an all-blue sky of nothingness for miles and miles. It was her first time on a private plane, and it felt extraordinary. She could get used to something like this.
“Just relax and enjoy the flight,” Layla said to her. “We’ll be in Florida in no time.”
Maxine wanted to relax, but in the back of her mind, she didn’t trust Layla. But she enjoyed the flight. Twenty thousand feet in the air, she was treated to more champagne, caviar, and lobster. It was opulence at its finest.
A few hours later, the plane descended into a private airport near Miami. From the plane, the ladies right away got onboard a luxury helicopter, the Sikorsky S-76. The bird lifted quickly into the sky, tilting in the air, and headed west toward the Florida Keys. Offering a bird’s-eye view of everything for miles, the helicopter moved swiftly in the air, flying at speeds up to two hundred miles per hour. It was an invigorating trip from Miami to Key West, bypassing hours of traffic and saving hours of time. For queens like Layla, it was one grand way to travel.
The turquoise ocean, extending endlessly on both sides of the Keys, seemed so calm and gentle as the sun’s rays made it glisten like a giant diamond.
The helicopter descended toward a huge piece of property below. In Maxine’s eyes, everything looked exquisite and sprawling. She saw the roofs of extravagant homes and more land than the eye could see. The property had its own heliport. It was unbelievable. Maxine was getting a firsthand look at how Scott and Layla were living.
Inside, Layla showed off the prime estate that sat on an expanse of pristine and picturesque land.
Maxine was blown away by the extravagance. Every square inch was detailed and handsomely built. The rooms were furnished tastefully with furniture that cost more than her mother’s house, and the exterior was amazing with its rambling greenery, tennis court, basketball court, a small lake, and large marble fountain at the threshold of the property.
Maxine knew Layla must have spent a small fortune to get it all built to her liking. Each home on the estate was grand and had its own unique design. But it was the primary home that stood out the most. Layla took over an hour to show Maxine almost everything.
That evening, as they sat and talked in the stylishly decorated great room with the antique African statues and priceless paintings by Claude Monet and Vincent van Gogh, they downed more champagne.
Maxine still felt apprehensive, but she let her guard down a little and enjoyed the moment with Layla. It felt like old times between them. And Maxine wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.
“I miss us,” Layla said out of the blue.
Maxine didn’t quite know how to respond to the statement. Remembering how things used to be between them so many years ago, it wasn’t the best friendship. It was more like a use-and-get-used type of association, where Layla did the using.
They talked about their old neighborhood and friends and people that came and went. But the one thing Layla didn’t bring up was Sandy.
After a few drinks, Layla’s face quickly looked troubled by her present issues. She said to Maxine, “Scott’s fuckin’ some next bitch.”
Maxine wanted to hear more about it. She tried to appear shocked and sad for Layla, but it was a façade. She felt Layla deserved a lot more than a broken heart from her husband.
Layla spoke about Penelope—the mi speaks no English bitch pregnant by her husband.
“I’m sorry to hear about this,” Maxine said.
“You don’t need to be sorry. I guess it was coming to me, right?” Layla said, almost sounding apologetic. She downed another glass of champagne, her sixth within a half hour. She stared Maxine in her eyes and that hard street look she forever carried softened. “I gotta be honest wit’ you—I was fuckin’ Scott while y’all two were together. I wasn’t a good friend to you. I let you take the fall, and I got all this while you were locked down. But you the real gangster. You kept quiet, and you did your time like a true fuckin’ G.”
Maxine swallowed hard and remained expressionless.
“I was always jealous of you, Maxine. I mean, you had beauty, an education, parents, and most of all, you had Scott.”
“It was a long time ago,” Maxine replied quietly. “And it’s good to be home.”
Like the old days, no outburst of rage or anger spewed from Maxine’s lips. She sat there and listened peacefully.
Hours later, they both fell asleep in the living room right before dawn was about to crack open the sky.
***
It was early afternoon when Maxine was awakened from her sleep by some sound coming from outside. She opened her eyes to find Layla no longer in the room. The sun was shining brightly, and the champagne was wearing off.
For a moment, she lay there. She heard Layla moving around the house, and then she heard a door slam and the faint sounds of truck engines. Curious, Maxine went to the window and saw Layla exit the mansion and walk across the compound just as two 18-wheelers were arriving.
Two men climbed out of their cabs and greeted Layla.
Maxine stood discreetly near the window to observe what was going on. Layla and the drivers talked briefly, and then the unloading started. Several pallets containing steel drums were loaded off the trailers and hauled toward the three-car garage of the home Layla had told her was Lucky’s. The men were very careful with whatever was in the drums. Maxine first assumed it was drugs, but then she thought Layla wouldn’t be stupid enough to have that amount of narcotics on her newly built property. But she knew there had to be something vital inside the drums.
When the men completed the task, Layla handed them something that appeared to be a payment concealed in a thick envelope. They were happy to receive it. A half-hour after the trucks had arrived, they were leaving the property.
Layla strutted back to the mansion, looking around the area with paranoia. Maxine wondered what type of cloak-and-dagger MI-6 mission she was on. Something important was in that three-car garage, and it made Maxine curious.
Seeing Layla enter the house, she removed herself from the window and pretended like she had just woken up.
Layla entered the great room with a smile and greeted Maxine, “Good morning, sleepy head.”
“Good morning,” Maxine replied.
“I made plans for the helicopter to pick us up and take us into Miami,” Layla said. “Let’s have a girls’ day out, you and me.”
34
Maxine’s day with Layla went smoothly. They went shopping, had drinks near the beach, and got manicures and pedicures from one of the top nail salons in the city. They enjoyed South Beach like two toddlers roaming free on the playground. They spent hours together, and not once did Layla mention the trucks that arrived on her property. It wasn’t Maxine’s business, but she couldn’t shake the thought, wondering what might be in those drums. She’d counted at least ten drums unloaded from the trailers.
Also, not once did Layla mention Bugsy. If something did happen to him, she was nonchalant about it. Maxine knew she couldn’t bring up the issue about Bugsy because it would cre
ate suspicion, so she continued to smile and put on a show for Layla.
***
The one distraction Layla had during their time in the city was her smartphone, which rang constantly. She was always on the phone. Mostly it was Lucky calling.
Layla desperately wanted Lucky to come down to Florida, and Lucky promised she would. But her attorney had advised her it would be better to stay in the state of New York, since her drug case was still pending. It wouldn’t look right if she took a trip to Florida. The prosecutors would believe that she was running. Besides, she had an important hearing that could get her charges dropped. Somehow, the five kilos she allegedly had been caught riding dirty with suddenly went missing from evidence. The missing kilos sent the case into a tailspin, and Lucky’s lawyer was certain she wouldn’t see a day in jail.
Layla told Lucky to keep her posted on the hearing and that she had made moves to build a loyal team, but she needed to politick with her daughter first. It was important.
Then the conversation shifted to Maxine being in Florida with her.
“Are you out your mind?” Lucky barked.
“I know what I’m doin’.”
“I don’t trust her, and you shouldn’t either,” Lucky said.
“I’m okay. We’re just catching up on lost time.”
“It’s stupid. She shouldn’t be there,” Lucky exclaimed.
Layla assured her daughter she had everything under control and guaranteed Lucky that Maxine wasn’t a threat—that she was still the same docile, pretty, naïve girl from twenty years ago. And, besides, she was lonely and needed someone to talk to.
***
Each day Maxine stayed in Florida, she regularly heard Layla gripe about Penelope, but there wasn’t any whining about her two sons. Did he die? Was he in the fuckin’ hospital?
Maxine’s skepticism about Bugsy was confirmed when she witnessed Layla and Bugsy FaceTime. She asked Bugsy when he and his brother were coming down to Florida to check out the new homes she’d built for them. Being busy, he made no promises to his mother.
Layla was unaware about the failed hit on her son. Scott and Meyer knew, but Lucky and Layla were kept in the dark purposely. A lot was going on inside the family, and the men agreed they didn’t want the women to do additional worrying.
Mafioso [Part 2] Page 18