The Family Business 4

by Carl Weber

  “He’s one of Jamaica John’s people.”

  “Well, that answers the question,” Kenny said.

  “It does, doesn’t it? But at least you’re here in one piece. Come on in. We got shit to do. You got the bag?” Dad asked.

  I held up the duffle bag full of money that I had been holding onto for dear life ever since I dug it up. “Yes, sir. Right here.”

  “Good. The sooner I pay Vinnie and get home the better,” he said.

  “Home? We just got here.” Kenny said with a frown. Like me, he was hoping for a few days of fun in the sun.

  “This ain’t no fucking vacation, boy. We gotta get back and get shit done. From what I’m hearing from Vinnie, LC has a price on our heads. We have to hit them before they hit us.”

  “Speaking of hitting us, I think there’s something you should know,” Kenny told him.

  “What?” My dad looked past me to my brother, who was standing on the other side of me.

  I frowned, hoping he wasn’t about to say what I thought he was. We’d talked about it during the ride to Maryland.

  “Come on, Kenny. Spit it out!” Dad yelled at him.

  Kenny sighed. “While we were digging the bag up, Paris and Orlando showed up at the farm.”

  “What? How the fuck did y’all let that happen? I told you to go at night so no one would see you,” Dad snapped.

  I closed my eyes and shook my head. I had warned my brother that telling Dad wasn’t a good idea, but he thought he knew better than me.

  “We did go at night,” Kenny replied.

  “How the fuck did they even know y’all were in Waycross? Who the fuck did you tell? Or fuck?” Dad turned around and directed the questions at me.

  “We didn’t tell anyone, Dad. I swear.” I raised my hands as if I was surrendering. I cut my eyes at Kenny, who now looked at me as if this was somehow my fault. “We did everything the way you told us to.”

  “Well, you’re here and they ain’t, so I guess we got two less of LC’s brats to worry about. You did kill them, didn’t you?”

  Kenny’s shoulders slumped as he admitted, “No, Dad. We didn’t kill them.”

  The old man’s head snapped back so fast I thought he might have given himself whiplash.

  “What do you mean they’re not dead?” He grabbed Kenny by the throat, not caring who saw or heard him. “I told you if you saw any of those little fuckers to kill them. Why the fuck aren’t they dead?”

  I had to give my brother props for his bravery. He didn’t even try to resist. By now, I was standing next to Dad, trying to pry his fingers from around Kenny’s neck.

  “We were about to kill them, Dad, and—”

  “And what?” He tightened his grip.

  “We didn’t have to. Momma dealt with them. She pulled a shotgun on them and everything,” I told him, hoping it would be enough to bring him to his senses before he killed my little brother.

  “Your momma?” Dad’s voice softened slightly, and his eyes widened. Finally, he let go of Kenny’s throat.

  “Yeah,” Kenny sputtered, rubbing his neck. “She pulled a shotgun on them.”

  “She always did love shotguns. It’s been her preferred weapon since we were kids.” To my surprise, his body relaxed and he smiled. “That damn NeeNee. I swear, I love that woman.”

  “We know, Dad,” I told him.

  “What the fuck y’all looking at?” Dad shouted when he realized we were being watched by everyone outside the building. Most of them went about their business once he yelled at them. “Come on, boys. I’ve got someone I’d like to introduce you to,” he said like he hadn’t just almost choked the life out of Kenny.

  “We’ll be back in a little while. Go wait in the parking lot,” Dad told the driver, who responded wordlessly with a nod.

  We walked past the reception area and rode the elevator to the top floor. When the doors opened, there was an armed man waiting in front of a door.

  “I’m here to see Vinnie. He’s expecting me,” Dad told the guy.

  “What ya name?” he asked and went to frisk my father.

  “Don’t put your hands on me.” Dad pushed him away, and the man reached for his piece. Before he could unholster it, all three of us had our guns aimed at him.

  “Whoa, what the fuck is going on here?” The door was opened by a white guy.

  “I told this motherfucker you were expecting us, and he tried to manhandle me, Vinnie,” Dad said, his gun still pointed.

  “Come on now, Leviticus, man. Is that any way to treat our guests? You know better. Come on back, Larry.” Vinnie Dash opened the door wide and welcomed us inside. His apartment was a fully furnished man cave with a pool table, fully stocked bar area, and even a Jacuzzi in one corner. Rap music played through the surround-sound speakers, and there were a couple of guys playing Madden on one plasma TV, while porn played on another. We followed him to another open living area with a black leather sofa, oversized chair, and a coffee table, which had the biggest pile of marijuana I had ever seen sitting in the center.

  “Nice place, Vinnie,” Dad said.

  “Thanks. This is my corporate office.” Vinnie laughed. “Isn’t that what it’s called in the business world?”

  “I ain’t never seen no corporate office like this,” I mumbled, taking it all in.

  “The only thing missing is some naked strippers up in here,” Kenny said, laughing as he looked around.

  “It’s a little early for them, but stick around for another hour or two and they’ll be here,” Vinnie assured us.

  Dad introduced us. “Vinnie, these are my boys, Curt and Kenny. Boys, this is our new business associate, Vinnie Dash.”

  “Nice to meet you, fellas. Sit down, sit down. Y’all want a drink? Some smoke?” Vinnie asked, sitting on the oversized chair. Dad sat on the sofa, and we remained standing. We knew not to sit down unless instructed by our father.

  “No, we’re good.” Dad declined his offer, although I could have used a good hit. “Let’s get down to the business at hand. You got the dope?” Dad asked Vinnie.

  Vinnie nodded. “It’s waiting to be transported to the plane when you leave. You got my money?”

  Dad looked over at me and said, “Pay the man.”

  I placed the bag on the floor and took out three-fourths of the cash, placing it on the table next to the weed. Vinnie picked up one of the bundles and flipped through it, then called for one of the men playing the video games to come and get it.

  “When are you heading back?” Vinnie asked.

  “Today,” Dad told him.

  “Why so soon? I thought you’d hang around to celebrate. There’s going to be plenty of ass, and these Jamaicans love some American dick.”

  “Or at least the dick they think can get them to America,” Kenny joked, and Vinnie laughed along with him.

  I looked over at Kenny. I knew he was hoping that Vinnie would somehow convince our dad to stay so we could enjoy this shit. It’s the same thing I was hoping.

  “Come on, Larry. Have a little fun,” Vinnie prodded.

  “Sorry. I’m flying back with the product. The sooner I get back, the sooner I can get shit done. You want me to be a return customer, don’t you, Vinnie?”

  “Indeed, I do. And I gotta tell you, Larry, doing business with you has certainly been a pleasure for me, and I appreciate it. Anything you need, you got it. Jamaica John and his people are at your disposal, and you may utilize him wherever he can be helpful,” Vinnie told him.

  “I appreciate that,” Dad said.

  “No problem. But I gotta ask you a question, though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “How exactly are you gonna use that dope to put your brother out of business?”

  I listened closely, because I’d been wondering the same thing.

  Dad stood up with a big smile on his face. “I’m gonna give it away.”

  Vinnie looked at him like he was crazy. “Did you say give it away?”

  “Well,
something like that.”

  Vinnie walked us back through the fun-filled office space and out the same door we’d entered. When we got into the hallway, the same guy was there.

  “Leviticus, apologize to my friend and his sons for giving them a hard time,” Vinnie commanded him.

  “But I was just doing my job, boss. You told me—”

  The shot seemed to come from nowhere, and it hit Leviticus right in the forehead, leaving a small hole. My heart began racing, and I reached for my weapon, prepared to retaliate—until I heard laughter. I turned around and saw it was Vinnie who was laughing.

  “Somebody clean this mess up,” he shouted.

  “What the fuck?” Dad hissed.

  “Oh yeah, Larry. I’m a little crazy myself.” Vinnie smiled wickedly. “Come on. I’ll walk you guys out. I could use some fresh air.”

  We didn’t waste any time getting on the elevator to exit the building.

  Vegas

  31

  “What’s going on?” Pop asked as he entered the den, followed by Harris and Nevada. I’d sent my son to find his grandfather because things had just gone from bad to worse.

  “Take a look for yourself.” I motioned toward the big screen hanging on the wall then pressed a button on my phone. The video I had received began to play, and I could see from the hardened look of disbelief on my father’s face that we were in trouble. “Shit just got complicated.”

  “That’s an understatement,” he said.

  “That right there is the work of the devil himself,” Orlando added angrily. He and Junior were sitting on the sofa and had already seen the clip of Uncle Larry, Kenny, and Curtis in front of some tall building, all hugged up and laughing like they were best friends with Vinnie Dash.

  “Play that video again,” Pop said, easing into a chair. “Do we know what the hell they were doing together?”

  “Nope, but if I had to guess, it looks like they’ve formed some kind of alliance.”

  “The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” Pop muttered, leaning forward to see the video closer. “That was one of Larry’s favorite sayings.”

  “I remember that,” Junior replied. “Uncle Larry used to always say stuff like that to Curtis.”

  “Words to live by, Larry used to call them.” Pop exhaled, running his hand through his hair. His frustration was written all over his face. “Despite his mental issues, that brother of mine is one who practices what he preaches.”

  “So, what do we do now, Pop?” Junior asked.

  “Why don’t we just take them all out now? Give our guys the kill order,” Orlando said. “I wouldn’t lose any sleep over Vinnie’s death; I can assure you that.”

  “No can do on that, little brother. Our people ran up on them purely by accident and without support. If they had made a move, it would have been akin to a suicide mission,” I replied, playing the video again.

  “We sure as hell don’t want that. Where are they now?” Pop asked.

  “They split up pretty fast after their love fest. Our people are following them. We should be getting reports in the next ten, fifteen minutes.”

  “So, who took this video? That was some pretty quick thinking,” Pop commented.

  “Yeah, it was,” I replied, studying the images. “Rio really came through on this one.”

  “Rio!” Harris spoke for the first time, stepping in front of the television and blocking our view. “Rio is in Jamaica with London.”

  “We are well aware of that, Harris,” I said.

  “Obviously you’re not, because my wife is still there, and now you’re telling me these fucking psychos are there too. If they spot her, she’s dead. That son of a bitch Larry is insane! Now, what’s the plan to get her the fuck out?” Harris stepped up boldly, getting in my face. His reaction was exactly why I had tried to stay away from mentioning the names of our team with him in the room. He was already pissed that London was in proximity to danger; I didn’t need him to be reminded that she was there with Daryl Graham. Harris was the most jealous dude I’d ever seen.

  “Calm down, Harris. London’s gonna be fine.” I tried in vain to reassure him.

  He pointed an accusatory finger in my face. “Easy for you to say. It’s not your wife out there stalking a stone-cold killer.” He looked over at Orlando in an attempt to drag him into this bullshit, then looked back at me. “Or your son we’re trying to rescue.”

  My brother-in-law had a way of pushing people’s buttons. I don’t think it was intentional; it was simply that he was an asshole. There was no denying that. Why London had married him was one of the biggest mysteries of the Duncan family. But, as much of an asshole as Harris was, he was also smart, meticulous, and a damn good lawyer, all qualities that the family had benefitted from many times. I glanced over at Pop, hoping for a sign that he’d be okay with me knocking Harris’s ass out, but he, in turn, glanced toward Nevada, reminding me that my son was in the room. So, I decided not to punch Harris in the face—for the time being.

  “No, it’s my sister, my brother, and my nephew, you prick. Now, get that finger out my face before I break it.” I shoved him backward.

  “Vegas, your phone,” Junior said.

  I ignored Harris for a second and answered the Face Time call. Rio appeared on the screen.

  “What up, Ree? We got you on the big screen. Pop, Orlando, Junior, and Harris are here.” I held up my phone so he could see everybody.

  “Can you hear me?” Rio asked.

  “Barely,” I said. “There’s a lot of wind noise in the background.”

  “Yeah, I’m at the airport. Uncle Larry, Curtis, and Kenny just left.”

  “Left? Where the hell did they go?” Pop shouted, standing up.

  “The flight manifesto for the charter plane says they’re headed to Farmingdale,” Rio yelled over the background noise. “I’m getting ready to hop on a plane there now.”

  “Farmingdale! Out on Long Island?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” Rio replied. “Look, I gotta go. Have y’all heard from London?”

  “No, not yet, but they should be checking in soon.”

  “Well, tell her I’m okay. I’m getting on this Learjet, and I guarantee we’ll land before that piece of crap Uncle Larry and the boys just got on. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  As soon as Rio hung up, Harris started flipping out. “What the fuck did he mean, have you heard from London? Why isn’t she with him?”

  “Not now, Harris. Just calm the fuck down,” Junior yelled then looked at our father. “So, what’s our next move, Pop?” he asked.

  Pop looked stressed. “Well, boys, I guess we better break out the welcoming committee. Looks like we’re about to have a family reunion.”

  London

  32

  One hour earlier ...

  Uncle Larry and his boys had only been in the building about fifteen minutes before they walked out, followed by Vinnie Dash of all people. I was so surprised by Vinnie’s appearance I could barely talk, let alone move. Thank God Rio had the foresight to pull out his phone and start recording, because I was there, and I still couldn’t believe what I was seeing, so I knew the folks back home would have a hard time believing it.

  “Rio, send that video to Vegas right now,” Daryl ordered intensely. He kept looking at Rio and me, and then at my uncle and Vinnie. Finally, he shook his head and exhaled, mumbling to himself, “Nah, it’s not worth the risk.”

  To tell the truth, I was a little offended. “If we were Vegas and Junior, or Paris and Sasha, you’d try to take them, wouldn’t you?” I snapped.

  “Maybe, but you’re not, so there’s no sense in thinking about it. Just because there’s opportunity doesn’t mean you should take it.”

  “I can fight, Daryl, and so can Rio,” I told him.

  “This is not about fighting, London. This is about the odds being stacked against us.”

  “Six on three is not great,” I agreed, “but we have the element of surprise on our side.”

/>   He pointed to the top of the building, where I hadn’t noticed two men standing, then at two cars, parked but still occupied, that I had also missed. “There’s almost a dozen men outside of the six you’re looking at in the parking lot. How many are hostile?”

  “I don’t know,” I replied, feeling stupid all of a sudden.

  “Neither do I, so why take a chance?” He began texting somebody on his phone. “Rio, there’s a cab right up the street. Go get in it.”

  “What? Why me?” Rio protested.

  “Because your uncle and cousins are headed to the parking lot, and Vinnie and his entourage are heading back inside.” He put down his phone and stared at Rio. “And because even Miss Chippy wouldn’t recognize you with that purple hair.”

  “True.” Rio smirked as he reached for the door.

  “Rio,” Daryl said, stopping him before he got out of the van. “Whatever you do, stay out of sight and don’t take any risks.”

  “Okay. Gotta go.” He kissed me on the cheek then hopped out of the van and crossed the street. Rio got into the cab just as the Mercedes that had delivered Uncle Larry and the boys to this spot eased out of the parking lot. I held my breath, hoping my brother would be able to catch up to them. We’d been lucky to find a fast driver from the airport, but would that be the case a second time? I was finally able to breathe when I saw the cab pass by with only one car between them and the Benz. Rio waved at us from the back seat.

  “So, now what do we do?” I asked.

  “We wait,” Daryl told me.

  “How long is dat gon’ be?” Our impromptu van driver looked worried. Things had been so intense that I’d almost forgotten he was there.

  Daryl reached into his pocket and handed him another hundred-dollar bill. “As long as it takes. You’ll get one of these every hour.”

  The driver took the money and wiped the frown off his face. “No problem.”

  * * *

  About an hour and a half later, Vinnie and five other men came out of the building and got into three different vehicles.

  “Follow that car.” Daryl pointed to the yellow Lamborghini that Vinnie and another man were in, which was being followed by the other two cars. The driver immediately got behind them and tried to keep up, but it wasn’t easy because Vinnie was flying. Soon, I realized that our surroundings had begun to change. We were no longer in the vibrant, busy downtown of Kingston; instead, we were approaching a dilapidated urban area. When we got to a busy intersection, the driver pulled over.