by Carl Weber
LC
7
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me Larry shot you?”
I stared at my wife, who’d just entered my home office, followed by Vegas. Neither of them looked happy. This was the first time she’d said a word to me in hours. When I first made the admission, she’d stormed out of the room. She was pissed like I hadn’t seen her in a long time.
“I thought I could handle it.” I sighed deeply.
“Have you lost your damn mind, LC? What do you mean you thought you could handle it?”
“Like I said, I thought I could handle it,” I repeated.
“How the hell were you going to handle Uncle Larry of all people, Pop? You’ve said yourself on plenty of occasions that even you and Uncle Lou couldn’t handle him.” Vegas exchanged a look with his mother, who continued their tag-team effort to berate me.
“LC, everyone knows he’s crazy. Shit, his nickname for years has been Crazy Larry, and he’s always lived up to it. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
“Honey, I know I should have told you, but at first, I really didn’t remember. I couldn’t recall anything except waking up in the house and you being there beside me. I didn’t even know I had been shot at first,” I explained. They both looked confused.
“So, when did you remember?” Vegas asked.
“I don’t know, maybe about a month or two ago.” I turned to Chippy. “You remember when I was having those bad dreams?”
She nodded. “Yeah, you kept waking up in a cold sweat.”
“Well, those dreams were about me getting shot. I couldn’t see who it was the first few nights, but eventually, more and more details started coming back to me, until I realized it was Larry.” The memory of those nightmares still haunted me.
Chippy’s face softened. “Okay, so why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know. Truth is, I wanted to, but in hindsight, I thought it was the best thing for all of us to keep quiet. I figured Larry shot me and maybe he’d just go away. I mean, we hadn’t heard from him since.”
Chippy shook her head. “You really thought that you were doing the family a favor by not mentioning that your brother shot and almost killed you?”
“I wouldn’t exactly put it that way, Chippy, but . . .” I glanced over at Vegas, who looked disgusted. He seemed to have no sympathy for me or my story. “See, I know our boys and Paris. They could say whatever they want, but if they knew Larry had shot me, they would have hunted him down and killed him—or he would have killed them.” Vegas lowered his head, most likely because he knew I was telling the truth. “So, let’s be honest. What good would that have done our family?”
Vegas exhaled loudly, but I think I was finally getting through to him. “So, how the hell did he get out, Pop?”
“It was your cousin Curtis,” I explained. “Two years ago, he had himself placed as Larry’s next of kin and administrator of his affairs with the hospital, instead of me. I knew about it, but I never thought it was a big deal. He’s Larry’s son, after all, and he’d seen firsthand what his father was capable of. Never in a million years did I think he’d orchestrate his father’s release.”
Again, Chippy stared at me and shook her head. “So, you gave the approval for your brother, a homicidal maniac who’s been locked up in a mental institution for years, to have his son, who worships the ground he walks on, be his administrator?”
I cringed with embarrassment as I admitted how badly I’d miscalculated the situation. “It doesn’t sound too bright now, but yes, that’s exactly what I did. But in my defense, Larry had been getting treatment for years. He’s a damn near sixty-five-year-old man. I didn’t think there would be any harm in his son taking over his care. It had been a while since he’d had an episode or an incident.”
“Well, it almost got you killed,” Chippy said angrily. “This is what happens when you go rogue and we don’t act together as a team, LC.”
“I know that, Charlotte, but he’s my brother. All I wanted was for him to live out his days happily.” I was damn near crying, but somehow, I straightened my spine and found my resolve again. “I’ll take care of this. If I have to put him down myself, I’ll take care of it. I promise.” And I meant what I said.
“LC.” Chippy walked over and put her arms around my shoulders. “Sending Larry away was the best thing you could have done for him. I know you love your brother. Hell, I love him too, but he is a danger to our family. You can’t handle him by yourself. This is something we have to do together.”
“Ma’s right. We have to handle Uncle Larry the same way we handle everything else: as a family,” Vegas said with finality.
I nodded my head in agreement. “Okay, from here on out, we do it as a family.”
Vegas
8
“What do you mean, I can’t go?” Orlando yelled, jumping out of his seat on the sofa. I’d called a family meeting after Mom and Pop had made it clear they wanted me to head up the effort to neutralize Uncle Larry and keep our family safe. Unfortunately, on top of the Uncle Larry situation, Junior had just come home with news that he’d seen Ruby and Orlando’s son, Vincent, in Negril. O was losing it, because I had just told him I was putting together a team to find his son, but he couldn’t be on it.
“I’m sorry, bro, but there’s no way in hell you’re sending a team to look for my son without me,” Orlando continued. “Key words here being my son.” He was now in my face looking like he wanted to punch me.
“Which is exactly why you’re not going, O. You’re too involved in this, and we can’t afford for you to be flying off the handle, getting all caught up in your feelings.” Orlando was a smart guy, and he could handle himself, but like the rest of us Duncans, he could be hotheaded and stubborn at times.
“This is bullshit and you know it, Vegas! If this was about Nevada, nobody could stop you from killing everyone on that damn island.”
“If this were Nevada, I’d want the right people for the job. This situation must be handled like a surgeon, not the Unabomber. You’re going to have to trust me on this one, O. Besides, I’ve got other things for you and Paris to do.”
He turned to my father. “Pop, will you please tell Vegas that I’m going?”
My father shook his head. “I can’t do that, son, because he’s right. Just like I’m too emotionally involved with Larry, you’re too emotionally involved with Ruby and your son. Vegas has got a plan. Let him play it out.”
“Yeah, but his plan doesn’t include me.” Once again, he was in my face. If he was anyone else, I would have taken him down, but I let him have his moment. “Don’t do this to me, man. My son is the most important thing in the world to me. Ruby and Vinnie have been keeping him from me. I just want to see my boy.”
“And you will, but this ain’t just about Ruby and Vinnie Dash. We also gotta worry about a whole posse of Jamaicans who work for them. If we don’t do this right, people could get killed. People like your son.”
“Sit down, Orlando, and let him finish,” my father said.
Orlando did what he was told, but he wasn’t happy about it.
“What I wanna know is why are you sending Rio to Jamaica instead of me? How much sense does that make? I’m the one who’s trained to handle situations like this, not him. The only thing Rio can do in Jamaica is sit on the beach and get a tan,” Paris said, pouting.
“Don’t do that.” Rio rolled his eyes at Paris, wagging a finger. “Don’t throw me under the bus because you’re mad. You trained your way, and I trained mine. I’m a Duncan. I know how to handle myself.”
In some ways, my sister did have a point, but so did Rio. My younger brother was a party animal and didn’t have the formal training that most of us had, but he had proven himself to be valuable in the past, and I felt confident in sending him along with Sasha.
“I’m ready. When do we leave?” Sasha finally spoke up.
“Tomorrow night,” I told her.
“Great. That gives me time to
run to the mall right quick and grab a few last-minute items.” Rio smiled deviously. “Sasha, would you like to join me?”
“Sorry, Ree, I’ve got an appointment with Jenny,” Sasha replied.
Orlando glared at me as I continued explaining what was going to happen. “Sasha, Rio, and Daryl will leave tomorrow night for Negril. Harris, I need you to arrange for a discreet Airbnb where they can hole up, along with a few of our best people.”
“Daryl’s going?” Paris’s voice became two octaves higher.
“Yeah, I’ve already spoken with him, and he’s making arrangements as we speak. He knows that island and the people like the back of his hand. He lived there for a few years, remember?”
“What does that have to do with me?” Orlando snapped.
“Orlando, I promise, I’m going to get your son back. You’ve gotta trust me. That’s my nephew too. It’s family.”
Orlando stood up and announced, “I don’t care what you say. I’m going, whether you like it or not. I’ll charter my own damn plane if I have to.”
“Me too. I’m with you, Orlando. That’s my nephew.” Paris stood beside him.
“Keep talking like that and I’ll lock both of your asses up in the basement,” I said to her.
“You got your son. Now I’m going to get mine!” Orlando shouted at me.
I looked over at Nevada, who was taking it all in, not saying a word. My son was quiet a lot of the time, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t paying attention. He studied everything that went on in this family, and I was sure that one day his observation skills would serve us all well.
“Orlando and Paris, both of you sit your asses down!” my mother yelled, and the room became quiet. They stopped complaining and took their seats, and everyone turned their attention to Ma. “Orlando, your brother is right. You would be spotted as soon as you stepped off the plane. Vinnie Dash would do everything in his power to hurt you, or worse, do something to your son. Let Vegas handle it. He has a plan in place, and that’s how it’s gonna be.”
“Well, if they’re gonna do that, what do you have me doing?” Paris asked, still sounding pissed off.
“You and O are going to Waycross, Georgia,” I said.
“Waycross? What the fuck is in Waycross? Sasha and Rio are going to Jamaica with Daryl, and you’re sending my ass to Waycross! How unfair is that?” She stood up and stormed off in true Paris fashion. This was exactly the reason she wasn’t on the Jamaican team. The last thing I needed was her emotional ass wreaking havoc.
The rest of the family members began filing out of the dining room and into the kitchen, leaving only Nevada and me.
“Poppa?” He got up from his chair and walked over to where I stood.
“Yeah, son,” I answered.
“I want to help. I want to be on a team.”
He was only a teenager, but he was nearly my height. Looking at him was like looking in a mirror. I placed my hands on his shoulders and stared at him.
“You are part of the team. You handle computers and communications.”
“No, I mean part of the assault team, going on family missions. I used to do stuff for my mom.”
“I know you did, son, but for right now, I need you to stay home and coordinate the computers and communications. Your time will come sooner than you think.”
He looked disappointed, but he didn’t argue. “Okay.”
“Hey, I promise you this: one day, you will be ready. One day, you’re going to be the head of the team.”
My son looked at me and smiled. I grabbed him and pulled him close to me, knowing that my words weren’t just for him, but they were for me. I would make sure that before that time came, he would be well prepared.
Larry
9
“Good afternoon. I’m here to see Lee,” I told the tiny hostess as I walked into Ming’s Garden, followed by my two boys and Momma. Ming’s was a quaint restaurant, located in the heart of Chinatown, right off Canal Street. The smell of garlic noodles, friend wontons, and shrimp filled my nostrils, and my stomach grumbled, even though I wasn’t hungry. “Tell him Larry Duncan is here to see him.”
The hostess, dressed in a red kimono, shook her head at me. “No Lee here.”
I glanced around the sparsely filled dining room and gave the woman a half smile. “Yeah, he’s here. I know that he’s here. He’s always here at one p.m. That’s what time his family conducts business over fish and rice.”
“No, no Lee.” The woman’s voice got slightly louder, and she took a few steps near the bar, where an Asian man was watching us closely. She was starting to get on my nerves with this “he’s not here” bullshit.
“Look, I don’t have time for this shit. Now, tell Lee that Larry Duncan is here to see him.” I raised my voice to get her attention, but the bitch kept staring at me.
Okay, you wanna play games, then we can play games.
I was just about to reach into my waistband and take out my pistol when the bartender lifted a phone and spoke some Asian gibberish into it. He motioned to another man, who was seated at the bar, whispering something in his ear. The man’s eyes went from him then back to us, and then they spoke some more of that gibberish. The man stood up and went to the back of the restaurant and returned a few moments later.
He said something to the hostess, who nodded and headed directly to us. “My apologies for the confusion. Lee will see you shortly. Please follow me.”
We followed her past the bar, through the small kitchen, and into a small, dimly lit room. There was an empty table with several chairs around it. The hostess gestured for us to take a seat on one side of the table, and then she left. I sat in the middle, and Kenny sat in the chair to my left. Curtis went to sit in the seat to my right; but before he could sit down, I snatched him up by the collar, slapping him hard upside the head.
“Since when do you sit to my right when your grandmother’s around? You know better than that, Curt. Don’t you fucking embarrass me in here,” I snapped angrily. “Now, apologize to your grandmother.”
Curtis glanced at me then my mother, pulling out her chair so that she could sit down. “Sorry, Grandma Bettie.”
“It’s all right, baby. You know your granny loves you.” She sat down, glaring at me. “I don’t know why you always so hard on Curtis. Between the two of them, you know he’s the only one you can rely on.” My mother loved all her grandkids, but she had a special fondness for Curtis because he was her first.
Curtis took a seat beside Kenny, who was staring at me with his eyebrows all knotted up. He was probably upset that I’d let his grandmother talk shit about him.
Another woman entered the room and smiled politely. “Good afternoon, Mr. Duncan. Can I get you anything to eat or drink? Compliments of Mr. Lee Cheng.” She seemed to be a bit friendlier than the hostess.
“Bourbon,” I replied. “And two Hennessy on the rocks for the boys.”
“Get me a beer,” Momma said.
“And a beer,” I added.
“Make sure it ain’t that sake bullshit either,” Momma whispered.
“Real beer, you understand?”
“Yes,” the waitress said and scurried out the door.
“Listen, Ma, you know how these Asian cats are about their culture. They don’t believe in doing business with women, so I’ma do all the talking. Understood?” I looked over at my momma, who didn’t seem pleased with the idea, but thankfully she didn’t fuss like I thought she would.
“Uh, yeah, Dad.” Curtis nodded.
“Fine with me.” Kenny shrugged.
A few minutes later, the woman returned with our drinks and some fried dumplings.
“Larry Duncan, how very nice to see you. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other,” Lee Cheng said when he walked into the room shortly after the waitress left. There were two other men with him, including the one who had been at the bar. Lee took a seat directly across from me, and they sat on each side of him.
“Lee, I was sta
rting to think you were about to pull some shit on me, especially when ol’ girl started saying you weren’t here.”
He offered his hand across the table, and I took it.
“No, no, we have to be wary in times like this. I would never pull anything on a man like yourself.” Lee still had that bullshit smirk that just made you wanna shoot his ass. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
“I would like to do business with you,” I told him. “You know, start out small, maybe fifteen, twenty kis to start.”
“You know I am always interested in doing business with the Duncans. Of course, I would like a larger order, but we can start with twenty kilos, to rebuild business.” Old Lee looked happier than a pig in shit.
“Good. So how much we talking per ki?”
“I can wholesale them to you for thirty thousand dollars a kilo. That should give you plenty of margin for profit.”
“That’s what I’m talking about, Lee. Always good doing business with you.” I felt Momma’s hand on my back, and the boys were nodding their approval.
“You as well, my friend. So, your brother will send payment in the usual way?” He stood up.
“No, my brother won’t do shit, but my sons will bring by your cash in three days.” I stood up to offer Lee my hand, but he was too busy glancing back and forth between himself and the two guys on either side of him. “Is there a problem?” I asked.
“Yes, a slight problem, but nothing a phone call with your brother won’t clear up,” Lee replied, his forehead wrinkled up like he was really concerned about something.
“What do you mean? Why do you need to talk to my brother?”
“We no longer do business in cash. We need to have it wired and confirmed. Your brother knows that,” he said.
“Well, you’re not dealing with my brother. You’re dealing with me,” I snapped, leaning over the table. “And since when is cash no fucking good?”
“Since 9/11, the world is very dangerous for men in our profession, but your brother knows this. He is the one who set up the system of offshore payment.” Lee looked confused. “This can all be straightened out with a phone call to him.”