The Family Business 4

by Carl Weber

  “Get away from the house!” he ordered his men.

  When we were far enough away from the property, we stood under the neon lights of the restaurant sign, Daryl holding me tight. I was totally out of breath when our eyes met. “I didn’t think I was going to get here in time.”

  “Well, you did, and I’m grateful for it,” he said, rubbing my back. “So, are you okay?”

  “Am I okay?” I laughed, despite how my heart was racing. Tears filled my eyes, and I became overwhelmed with emotion. “I can’t believe I almost lost you.”

  “You’ll never lose me.” Daryl cupped my face in his hands, then slowly, he kissed me.

  LC

  25

  My heart sank as we came around the bend of the road and what was left of Duncan Transports’ Atlanta hub came into view. The entire complex looked like a roped-off war zone, with chunks of concrete, stone, and twisted metal scattered all over the place. Thirty-six hours after it was bombed, there were still firemen putting out pockets of smoldering debris. And if that wasn’t reminder enough of all that we had lost, there was still one wall and some trucks that remained to mock the fact that everything else was completely gone.

  “Pull over there,” I instructed the driver, who did what he was told. He placed the car in park, and before he could get out, I had opened my own door and was halfway over to where Vegas was standing, surveying the damage.

  “What are you thinking?” I asked Vegas.

  “It’s pretty much all gone.” Vegas and I stared across the road at the dozen firemen and half dozen cops going through the rubble. “The building is totally demolished, along with twenty or so trucks. They’ve already pulled out twelve bodies, including Frankie B. I’ve got Harris over there dealing with the cops now.”

  “Twelve dead?” I repeated, slamming my fist into my palm. “You know Frankie B was one of my best friends. Since you came back, he was planning on going down to Florida to retire.”

  “Yeah, I know. He was a good man, that Frankie. He taught me a lot. He’s gonna be missed.”

  “Dammit, I should’ve seen this coming.”

  “Pop, no one could’ve predicted this. We all thought Uncle Larry was in New York. Why would he even come here?” Vegas gritted his teeth in disbelief.

  “Because this is where it all started.” I knew my brother was on a path of destruction, but this told me he was only beginning. “He’s trying to send me a message.”

  “And what’s that?” Vegas asked.

  It took a moment for me to choke down the emotions that were welling up inside me. “That he’s going to destroy everything he, Lou, and I built, and he doesn’t care who gets hurt in the process.”

  “Yeah, but Pop, we don’t even use this hub for that kind of stuff anymore. Frankie B was running a legitimate business.”

  “I know that, son, but Larry doesn’t—or at least he doesn’t care,” I said. Just then, a car rolled up behind my SUV. “You expecting someone?” I asked Vegas.

  Before he could reply, Paris jumped out of the car and ran over to us. She hugged me tight. “Hey, Daddy. I missed you.”

  “Missed you too.” I swear, despite her reckless foolishness, that girl always brought a smile to my face.

  “Did Uncle Larry and them do this?”

  “Everything seems to point to it,” I replied sadly.

  “Shit, what the hell did he use, an atom bomb?” Orlando asked as he walked up.

  “You find any clues to Curt and Kenny’s whereabouts?” Vegas asked his brother.

  “We ain’t find no clues. We actually found Curt and Kenny,” Paris exclaimed.

  “Get the fuck outta here,” Vegas said, a satisfied grin creeping up on his face. “Where do you have them stashed? I wanna talk to those two.”

  “We kind of had to let them go.” You could hear the disappointment in Orlando’s voice as Vegas’s expression soured.

  “I told you we shoulda just snuck up on their asses and blasted them,” Paris snapped. She began pacing back and forth as she deflected all blame on her brother. “But no, O wanted to try and talk shit out.” She threw her hands in the air. “Yeah, well, he talked shit out so well Aunt NeeNee pulled a shotgun on us and let them go!”

  “So, you found them at the farm?” I asked Orlando, knowing that Paris was too riled up to give me any useful information.

  “Yeah, but they didn’t have any plans on staying there. They were digging for something,” Orlando said.

  “It was probably a body,” Vegas said.

  “Nah. Larry would never bury a body on the farm. It was most likely money,” I answered.

  “Money?” Vegas and Orlando asked at the same time.

  “Yes, it’s an old school thing. Guys like Larry never kept their money in banks. They’d hide it where they could get to it whenever they needed it. Larry’s probably got money and gold stashed all over the place.” I sighed. “Did they find what they were looking for?”

  “They left with a big army duffle bag. Looked pretty full too,” Orlando answered.

  “What do you think they’re gonna do with all that money, Pop?” Vegas asked me.

  “I don’t know. But whatever it is, it’s probably not gonna be good for us,” I told them.

  “Vegas, make that hundred-grand bounty on Larry’s head a half million.”

  “But what about Curt and Kenny?” Vegas asked.

  “Put a hundred grand on each of them too,” I said coldly. “Dead or alive.”

  “Damn, Pop. You sure? I mean, those are our cousins.” Vegas seemed uncharacteristically hesitant.

  “Yeah, and Larry’s my brother, but I refuse to allow him to go on a rampage across the country killing innocent people like he did last time. We’ve already got twelve dead, and that’s not including Lee and his people.” I turned and looked back at the crumbled transport center, becoming even more angry. “The body count is getting too high. Those boys made their bed; now they’re gonna have to sleep in it.”

  Larry

  26

  Once we arrived in Kingston, I got Momma settled into the hotel, then called Vinnie Dash to arrange a meeting. Surprisingly, he was more than happy to meet with me. He even sounded excited about it. He offered to send a car over to get me and promised to buy me the biggest steak in Jamaica—although from the looks of the skinny-ass cows around here, I might order jerk chicken instead. I guess now that I’d taken care of our mutual pain-in-the-ass problem Frankie B, Vinnie’s business would no doubt expand, and I was going to be his new best friend. Hell, I didn’t have a problem with that. Me and him being friends would just piss LC and his brats off even more. The mutual hatred between the Duncans and the Dashes went way back, and from what I’d heard, it had only become more intense after LC orchestrated Vinnie’s father Sal being killed.

  “You sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Momma asked as I was heading out the door. She hugged me like she had the day I went off to the Vietnam War. With Lou dead and LC’s betrayal, it felt good to know someone cared for me that way.

  “I’m sure, Momma. You stay here and relax. Why don’t you go down to the pool and see if you can get one of these Caribbean gigolos? I got this. I wasn’t scared of Sal, so you know I’m not scared of his son.” I was just joking about the gigolo thing, but I really did want Momma to relax.

  “You’ve never been scared of anybody, but that don’t change the fact that I got a bad feeling about this, son.”

  “Momma, you were the one who pushed me to set this meeting up. Now you’re changing your mind?” I frowned.

  “I ain’t say shit about changing my mind or the deal,” she snapped. “I just got a bad feeling about this, so much so I wish those hard-headed grandsons of mine were here.” She let me loose, wiping her glistening eyes. “So, I’m just telling you to be careful with these people by yourself.”

  “Okay, Momma. I’ll be careful.” I kissed her cheek, picked up the package I’d brought with me from the States, and walked out the door. />
  By the time I got downstairs and exited the Courtyard Kingston, the car Vinnie had sent was waiting for me. The driver, a slim, older Jamaican, didn’t say much while we were in the car, which was a good thing, because I wasn’t the type for small talk anyway. Soon, he pulled up to a small cafe. I waited for him to open the door for me, and then I followed him inside. The smell of marijuana was so strong, I halfway expected to have a contact high by the time I was ready to leave.

  “Holy shit. There he is, Larry fucking Duncan,” I heard someone say from across the room. I squinted in the dusty, dimly lit space and saw an olive-skinned man I assumed to be Vinnie Dash sitting at one of the tables nearby.

  “Man, I can’t fucking believe this. You’re a fucking legend,” he said as I approached.

  “Yeah, but only in my mind,” I said.

  Vinnie stood up and stretched his hand out. We shook hands, then he motioned for me to sit in the chair beside him.

  “You look just like your daddy,” I commented.

  Vinnie nodded. “That’s what everyone says. Thanks.”

  “That wasn’t a damn compliment,” I told him with a laugh.

  “Damn, Crazy Larry Duncan. I’m in awe right now.” Vinnie took a long drag of the joint that had been lying in the ashtray in front of him. When he passed it to me, I declined. I didn’t want to cloud my thinking.

  “You really are a fucking legend. You know that? I mean, old man used to always say ‘LC is the smart one, Lou is the big-dick one with all the women, but Crazy Larry, that’s the one you want on your team. That guy is going to get the job done, no matter what.’ You did a lot of work for him back in the day, didn’t you?”

  “I completed a contract or two for him,” I said nonchalantly.

  “Yeah, that’s what I heard. And now look at this. I’m sitting here doing business with you. My dad would be proud, don’t you think?” Vinnie asked.

  “He would be if the deal is right,” I told him. “Sal Dash was a true businessman, very professional.”

  “That he was. And I’m sure you’ll find me to be just as professional. But I need to be assured of one thing. Are you sure Frankie B is dead?” Vinnie’s face had no expression as he stared directly in my eyes, making me laugh.

  A dark look passed over his face for a second. “What’s so fucking funny? All I’m asking is if the guy’s dead. I didn’t ask for his head on a silver platter or anything.”

  That comment made me laugh even harder as I reached down to pick up the wrapped box I’d brought with me. “Hey forget about that shit for a moment. I brought you a present.” I set it down in front of him.

  “Really? What the hell did you bring me?”

  Vinnie seemed a little confused by me, and I liked it that way. It’s good to keep people guessing; let them know they can never predict your next move. It gives you the upper hand.

  Vinnie opened the package, making sure not to rip the gold wrapping paper. He looked inside then snapped his head back, trying unsuccessfully to hide the look of disgust on his face. “What the fuck is this?”

  “That’s Frankie’s head,” I said. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t find a platter on such short notice. I had a flight to catch.”

  Vinnie managed to recover from his initial shock, and he laughed along with me.

  “This motherfucker really is crazy,” he shouted, raising the box for all to see. “He’s got a fucking head in the box. You are one crazy son of a bitch!”

  The smile fell from my face. “Not crazy. Eccentric. I hate the word crazy.”

  “Okay, you’re eccentric, motherfucker. Now that Frankie’s gone and the Duncans are having some transportation issues they gotta deal with, I have a little present for you.” Vinnie motioned toward one of his men and instructed him, “Get one of those packages from the bar.”

  The guy walked behind the bar and returned with a package wrapped in brown paper.

  “You’re looking for dope, so try this on for size.” Vinnie tossed it over to me.

  I caught it, then took out a small knife from the pocket of my suit jacket, cut into the package, and licked the blade.

  “That’s good stuff,” I told him.

  “Wow, now that’s some old-school shit. Most of the people I’ve ever dealt with have like a mini chemistry set, and if it don’t turn blue, your shit ain’t pure.”

  “Well, I’m old school all the way. How much of this shit you got?”

  “I got five hundred ki.” Vinnie beamed with pride.

  “You got five hundred kilos? Of this?”

  “Yep. I can sell it to you for thirty grand per ki.”

  I grinned. “No, you’re gonna let me get it for twenty grand a ki. Okay?”

  “What? Why the fuck would I sell it to you for that?” Vinnie snapped. “Nobody else is going to sell it to you for thirty. Wholesale is thirty-five, and that’s on a good day. I’m giving you a deal.”

  I shook my head. “Come on, Vinnie. We both know no one wants to buy from you at any price; otherwise, this shit would be gone. Now, let’s stop playing games and make a deal.”

  He hesitated for a minute, but he couldn’t deny the truth of what I was saying. Finally, he gave in a little. “I can’t sell it to you for twenty, but I’ll split the difference with you and make it twenty-five. What d’you say?”

  “You got a deal, but I buy it in four shipments, a hundred twenty-five kis at a time.” I reached my hand across to him, and he took it, sealing one hell of a good deal for me. Shit, if he had stuck to thirty, I still would have bought the shit.

  Vinnie picked up the blunt and took another long drag, then put it down and looked at me. “Well, I guess there’s only one thing missing then.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The money.”

  “My boys will be here tomorrow. I’ll have your money then,” I told him as I stood up, offering my hand, which he took.

  “Larry, this is definitely the start of a beautiful friendship. LC is not going to know what hit him,” Vinnie said with a chuckle.

  If things worked out the way I planned, this was just one of the many ways I’d be hitting my treacherous brother LC.

  Sasha

  27

  I was lying across the bed, watching some new Beyoncé video on my phone when Paris stuck her head in the room.

  “Get dressed. I’m bored, and I can’t take it anymore. We’re going out. We’re leaving in thirty minutes.”

  She didn’t have to tell me twice. Of course I was bored, considering my damn meddling mother had basically made Uncle LC put me on lockdown instead of sending me out on jobs. I jumped off the bed and walked over to my 10 x 10 walk-in closet. “Where we going? ’Cause you know I ain’t got shit to wear.”

  “I know, right?” Paris agreed. “Same here, but find something. We ain’t got time to go shopping.”

  “A’ight, but are you gonna tell me where we’re going or what? I need to know what style to wear.”

  “Wear something expensive. We are going to a charity event,” she said, sounding very proper and high society.

  “A charity event?” I whined. I hated charity events. They were more boring than sitting around the house looking at everyone’s long faces about the warehouse being blown up in Atlanta and Uncle Larry’s recent killing spree. “What kind of charity event? You know I hate these things, Paris.”

  “Sasha, stop it with all the damn bitching and moaning. Trust me on this. You’re gonna have fun,” she said with a confident smile. “Now, get dressed. I’m serious about leaving in a half hour.”

  * * *

  An hour later, we pulled into Jake’s 58 Hotel and Casino out in Long Island. At first I thought Paris must have been lying about it being a charity event, but sure enough, the sign in the front lobby read: LADIES NIGHT OUT BENEFIT AUCTION. We were directed to one of the casino hotel banquet halls, which was set up for a fashion show, complete with a runway and a small stage. The audience was an eclectic group of women, all ages, dressed in everyt
hing from Sunday’s best to high fashion couture. Now, I love fashion, but the vibe in this place was way too low key for me. I needed more excitement than these bougie ladies could ever offer.

  “Paris, the last place I wanna be is a boring-ass fashion show. I could have stayed home and watched Project Runway reruns for this.”

  “Trust me, it’s going to be fun.” Paris shrugged and handed me a glass of champagne from the bar before we made our way to the seats she had reserved in the VIP section.

  “How much fun can a charity auction be, Paris?” I asked as we settled in to our seats.

  Before she could answer, the lights dimmed, and the intro to R. Kelly’s 12 Play came blasting out of nowhere. Women began screaming, which totally confused me. This was like no fashion show I’d ever been to. Then I looked toward the stage, and everything made sense. One by one, some of the finest men I had ever laid eyes on began strolling out, each one wearing jeans, Timberland boots, and nothing else. Their muscular chests and shoulders glistened as they gyrated to the beat of the music. The group of men was just as varied as the women in the audience, all races and ages. But there was one thing they all had in common: they were all fine as fuck. My eyes widened, and I drank my champagne in one gulp.

  “Yesssssssss!” Paris jumped up and screamed along with the rest of the women, and I couldn’t help laughing. One of the men dove onto the floor in front of us and proceeded to demonstrate his stroke game. My mouth gaped open. He had the body of a Nubian king and the face of a model. Watching him dance in front of me, I could only imagine what he would do to me in bed.

  As the song ended, he slowly stood up, and our eyes met. He smiled at me, and I almost forgot where I was. In one leap, he was back on the runway stage, and then he disappeared behind the curtain along with the other guys.

  “Ladies, ladies, ladies! What’s going on?” a woman yelled into the microphone. As she walked onstage, I recognized her as a reality star turned rapper whose song had been number one on the charts. The audience went wild.

  “Is that—”

  “Yep, I told you it was gonna be fun.” Paris nudged me playfully.