The Family Business 4

by Carl Weber

“Let’s go!” Larry snapped as soon as he got in the front passenger’s seat. He slammed the door shut, and Curtis drove off. I wondered how long it was going to take someone to realize that I was gone from the salon, but it didn’t matter. I knew that by that time, we would be long gone—and most likely I’d be dead.

  “Kenny, you keep an eye on her. Don’t make me have to come back there,” Larry said with his voice full of evil intentions.

  “Don’t worry, Aunt Chippy. He’s not gonna hurt you,” Kenny said, trying to reassure me. “He just wants to talk.”

  “I know your father’s way of talking, Kenny.” I was trembling both from fear and the cold water that dripped from my hair, soaking through the towel and down my back. “I’m sure he had talks with Frankie, Donna, and Harris, so excuse my skepticism.”

  “Seriously, Aunt Chippy, we are not going to hurt you,” Kenny said.

  “You look so much like your mother, Kenny.” I purposely brought up NeeNee to see what type of reaction I would get. Curtis didn’t flinch, but I could see a flicker in Kenny’s eyes. “She misses you boys.”

  “And we miss her,” Kenny said, smiling happily, until Larry glared into the back seat.

  “Are you trying to talk my boys into being against me, Chippy?” Larry grumbled.

  “If their mother couldn’t talk them into anything, then why would I think I could, Larry?”

  “Because you think you’re better than everyone else.”

  “Whatever, Larry. You know that’s not true,” I said, hoping to at least sound brave. “What do you want? Nobody wants to fight with you, and nobody wants a war.”

  Larry hesitated, and his brow wrinkled up as if he was confused. “I want my portion of the business back.”

  “Larry, you sold your portion of the business, remem—”

  “Bullshit! That motherfucker stole it from me, and you know it! He knows it, and everyone knows it!” he screamed, spit flying everywhere.

  I jumped in my seat, praying I hadn’t pushed him too far. “Okay, Larry,” I said quietly. “I’ll talk to LC, get him to give you your portion back. Just calm down, please.”

  That was enough to bring his stress level down a notch, I guess, because he sounded calmer when he said, “I don’t want things to be like this, Chippy, but what kind of father would I be to let everything I worked for be stolen right from under me? Don’t you think I wanna leave a legacy for my boys? Hell, Chippy, you’re Curtis’s godmother and NeeNee’s best friend. I tried to talk to your husband. I told him he needs to give me back what’s rightfully mine. And you know what he did?” Larry asked.

  “No.” I shook my head.

  “He called me a liar. Now, I may be a lot of things—hell, I may be crazy—but, Chippy, you know I ain’t a liar, don’t you?”

  “I know that, Larry. At least I used to,” I said. In my head, I was thinking, You might not be a liar, but you tried to kill my husband, you psychotic piece of shit. I was scared, but my blood was still boiling as I thought of how close LC had come to dying after Larry shot him.

  “What’s that supposed to mean? You think I’m a liar?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I think, Larry. You’re still going to kill me. You’re going to use me to trap LC, and then you’re going to kill me. You know it, and I know it. You used to be a standup guy, Larry. Now, not so much.” I was trying to appeal to a sense of decency or honor in him, if there was any of that left. I had no idea if it would work, but I had to try something. Obviously, I miscalculated, because my words just pissed him off.

  “Fuck you, Chippy, with your high and mighty bullshit!” he raged.

  “Then tell me in front of your sons that you’re not going to kill me.”

  He took a breath and held it. The car became so quiet I could hear my heart pounding.

  “Tell her, Dad,” Kenny urged. He sounded like he was pleading, like he wanted to believe his father was a good person. I sensed that I had found a weak spot, so I pressed on it.

  “He can’t, Kenny, because he knew the minute he walked in that salon that he was going to kill me.”

  “God dammit, you want the truth?” Larry yelled from the front.

  “Yes, Larry, I would like the truth.” I glanced at Kenny, who was hanging on his father’s words.

  “Yeah, I’m gonna kill you, Chippy. More importantly, I’m going to make that piece-of-shit brother of mine watch as I cut you one piece at a time.” He held up a switchblade, clicking a button so the knife sprang to life. “LC took my world from me. Now I’m going to take his world from him, and I’m going to start with you.”

  I looked into his eyes and knew that his face would be the last one I saw before dying. Dear God, I silently prayed. Help me.

  “These boys and NeeNee are your world, Larry,” I said, refusing to give up just yet. “Do you want them to have to fight with my boys for the rest of their lives, like the Hatfields and the McCoys? Because if you kill LC or me, my boys will never give up.”

  “Neither will mine,” Larry replied pridefully.

  “Pop, what are you saying?” Kenny yelled out, sounding distressed. “You said you weren’t gonna hurt her. You promised.”

  “Shut the fuck up, boy,” Larry growled, the knife still pointed at me. “She’s just as evil and conniving as LC is.”

  “I’m not so sure they’re the ones who are evil.” Suddenly, Kenny reached over the seat and pushed Larry’s hand up, gripping it as he yelled at me, “Get out, Aunt Chippy! Open the door and get out now!”

  The van swerved as Curtis was distracted by the commotion. The car behind us blew its horn. I was confused for a brief moment; then I grabbed the handle and opened the door. I can’t say for certain, but I think Kenny pushed me out onto the street. Thank God we had been on a narrow city street and he wasn’t traveling too fast, or I might have died from the fall. My body tumbled against the pavement, and I cried out in both panic and pain. I lifted my head in time to see the van stop and Larry’s door open, but then he must have realized there were witnesses around, because the door closed again, and the van sped off down the street.

  “Oh my God! Are you okay?” I heard a woman screaming behind me just before I passed out.

  Sasha

  61

  “Are ya havin’ fun?” John yelled over the loud music. It wasn’t a very large club, but the crowd was decent, and the DJ was popping. I spent most of the night in VIP, declining invitations from various men offering everything from drinks to straight-up dick. London hadn’t left John’s side. They had danced, talked, and flirted all night. She had him eating out of the palm of her hand, literally, as she plucked a lemon wedge from the center of the table and put it in his mouth so they could take shots of tequila.

  “Mm-hmm.” London nodded.

  “Come home wit’ me.” He leaned toward her.

  “You have to ask her.” London tossed a shot back and pointed at me. “She’s my girl. I want to, but the only guys I’m allowed to get with are the ones we get with together.”

  John’s eyes widened, and he smiled at me. “Is dat true?”

  “You’re a big man, but do you really think you can handle both of us?” I said with a wink.

  “Hell yeah!” Not wasting another second, he paid the tab, and within minutes, we were headed out.

  “Are you sure you’re down for this?” I asked London a while later as we followed John to his apartment.

  “Why would you even ask that? I’m the one who initiated this shit,” London replied.

  I got serious. “Because shit is probably gonna get real once we get inside this fat fucker’s place. I know you’re married, so if you don’t wanna—”

  She stopped me before I could finish. “Look, I told you I was ready, and I am. If he knows where Vinnie Dash is, I’m gonna make sure he tells us.” London nodded, staring straight ahead with a look of resolve. “Let’s go.” We had just pulled up and parked behind Jamaica John’s car in front of a small house.

  Jamaica John was
waiting for us in front when we got out of the car. He unlocked the door, and we followed him inside.

  “You going on a trip?” I asked, noticing two suitcases sitting near the doorway.

  “Vacation,” Jamaica John said, offering no more detail as he locked the door behind us.

  “Where you going?”

  “Somewhere warm,” he snapped. It was obvious he didn’t want to give up any details, so I left it alone. I didn’t want to piss him off before we had barely gotten in the front door.

  He led us into a small living area and turned on the lights. It was a typical bachelor pad, with a black faux leather sofa and chair, black lacquer coffee and end tables, and a large painting of a half-naked woman on the wall.

  “This is nice,” London lied as she looked around.

  “Ya want some smoke?” He reached into a jar on his mantle and took out a plastic sack of weed.

  “Sure.” I shrugged. London didn’t look like she wanted to be a willing participant. I said, “Do you still have to pee, Devin?”

  “Huh?”

  “You said you had to pee when we were in the car, remember?”

  “Ohhhhh, yeah.” She nodded.

  “Bathroom is down de hall,” John said, sitting on the sofa to roll a blunt.

  Once it was lit, he took a long drag, then passed it to me. After taking a pull, I went and kneeled in front of him, blowing the smoke in his face. He closed his eyes and inhaled, smiling. Then, I took off my shirt. John stared at my perky breasts, looking like he wanted to devour me.

  “You wanna go in your room and get started without her?” I suggested.

  He reached out, and his pudgy fingers rubbed against my lace bra. “Ya fine as fuck, ya know dat?”

  “I do.” I nodded. “Come on.”

  He struggled to get off the sofa, and I contained my laughter. He took me by the hand and led me up the narrow staircase into his bedroom. There were clothes on his bed, which he quickly knocked onto the floor. Taking another hit off the blunt, he grabbed me into his arms and kissed me. My first instinct was to gag, but I calmed down and forced myself to kiss him back.

  I pushed him onto the bed then straddled him, took the blunt from his hand, and put it into an ashtray on the nightstand, where another half-smoked blunt was resting. I reached into his sweatpants and was surprised by what I felt. Jamaica John’s dick was just as large as his body. If it had been attached to someone better looking, I might have been able to enjoy myself; but what the hell. I wasn’t there to have fun. I was there to do a job, so I got to work, stroking and pulling on it until he closed his eyes and started moaning.

  “You like that?” I ran my finger gently back and forth against his swollen head.

  “Suck it,” he whispered. I frowned, because putting his dick in my mouth was not what I had planned on doing.

  “I will,” I lied, standing up and unzipping my skirt. It fell to the floor, and John became even more aroused as he stared at me, standing in front of him dressed in only a bra, thong, garter, stockings, and stiletto boots. I performed a mini strip tease as I eased out of my boots and unrolled the stockings one by one, then used them to tie him to the bedpost. It always amazed me how easy it was to get these horny motherfuckers tied up.

  “Shit,” he whispered as I ran my fingers down the side of his face and down his body.

  “You ready?”

  “Fuck yeah!” he said eagerly.

  “Good. Devin, he’s ready!” I called out. “What we are about to do is always better with three.”

  London walked in, gun in hand, and aimed it at him. She handed me another weapon.

  John shook his head as if he had known all along that it was too good to be true. Bet he was feeling pretty stupid now. “What ya want? I got no money here. All I got is weed.”

  “We don’t want no fuckin’ money, John,” London told him. “We want information.”

  “What? What ya askin’ ’bout? Me don’ know nothing!” he yelled.

  “Shut the fuck up and listen, you fat fuck. You know a lot, and we know it. Now, tell us about Larry Duncan,” I commanded him.

  “Me don’ know no Larry Duncan.”

  “Everyone knows about Larry Duncan,” I spewed. “There’s five hundred large on his head.”

  Whap! I slapped him across the face. For a second, it looked like he was more turned on than fearful of my assault. But when he tugged on the restraints and realized he was stuck, then his arousal turned into anger.

  “You bitch!”

  “Where the fuck is Larry Duncan?” I put the gun to his temple.

  “I don’t know. De number he gave me no work.” He was sweating profusely.

  “Where the fuck is Vinnie Dash?” London asked, taking a step closer to the bed.

  Jamaican John tried to pull himself free, but I had tied him in such a way that he couldn’t escape. “I don’t know.”

  “Stop fucking lying to us, John. We already know that you were the one who orchestrated the drug deal between Larry and Vinnie.” I aimed the gun at his head. That was enough to make him suddenly remember that he did, in fact, know something about Vinnie Dash.

  “Vinnie is in de wind. He was in Jamaica, but he disappeared. Nobody knows where de fuck he is,” John said as he continued to struggle. Sweat was dripping down his face and his neck. His shirt was now sticking to his body.

  “Lying motherfucker. You know what? I’m tired of this shit.” London left the room and returned with a large knife.

  I looked at her. “What the fuck are you gonna do with that?”

  “I’m about to neuter this bastard. Seems like the only thing these men understand is their dicks being cut off,” she said angrily. “I ain’t got time for games. I gotta get back to the hospital before Daddy finds out I’m gone, so I’m about to cut his dick off, inch by inch, until he tells us what we want to know.”

  She looked so serious that even I couldn’t tell if she really intended to do it. “Dude, if I were you, I’d start talking, or that dick you were just begging me to suck is gonna be gone.”

  London moved closer, and for the first time, I saw actual fear in John’s face.

  “No!” he hollered and started violently thrashing his huge body to the point I thought he might break the bed; then, all the flaying ended abruptly. He screamed out in pain and then took a deep breath before going limp. His eyes were open, but they looked empty, staring at nothing.

  “What the fuck happened?” I asked London.

  “I don’t know. I think he had a heart attack.” She placed two fingers on his neck. “He’s dead. Shit. What the fuck do we do now?” she said breathlessly.

  “I don’t know. Search his shit while I put my clothes on,” I said, stepping into my skirt. I was leaning against the wall to put on my boots when I noticed London going through his dressers. “Did you find anything?”

  “Nothing,” she said as she rummaged through the clothes and tossed them on the floor.

  “Check his pants pockets,” I suggested.

  London went into his pockets and pulled out his cell phone. She looked down at the screen and let out a little laugh. “You’re not going to believe this, but his phone isn’t even locked. Who doesn’t lock their phone in this day and age?”

  “Who cares? Check his text messages. See if he has anything from Vinnie or Larry.”

  “Bingo. He has a text message from VD that came in two days ago.”

  “What’s it say?”

  London scrolled through his phone and read: “Leaving Jamaica. Meet me at the marina in three days with my money.”

  “What marina?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. John just texted back OK. But three days is tomorrow.”

  “Well, we know one thing. He’s going somewhere warm.” I finished dressing and picked up my gun. “Give me his phone.”

  London did as I asked, and I went into his email. A smile spread across my face when I found what I had hoped would be there. “He’s got a one-way ticket to Ja
cksonville, Florida for tomorrow afternoon.”

  Kenny

  62

  “Pull this fucking van over! Pull it over!” my dad screamed, repeatedly slamming his hand on the dashboard like a maniac.

  He’d been screaming, yelling, and punching the dash nonstop for nearly twenty minutes. Curtis just ignored him, driving until we’d crossed well over the Queens/Long Island border. I was scared, because most of his tirade had something to do with me and how he wanted to rip my throat out and shit down my neck.

  Curtis finally pulled into the driveway of the safe house, and my father, who looked like he was about to have a damn stroke, started coming over the seat of the van after me. At that point, all I wanted to do was get as far away from him as possible, because I couldn’t be sure if he’d lost it enough to make me his next victim. The van had barely come to a stop when I jumped out headed toward the street. I had barely walked twenty feet from the van when he grabbed me from behind, spinning me around.

  “So, what? You too good for us now, you fucking traitor?” my dad growled just before he punched me in the stomach. “You pussy-ass momma’s boy.”

  I doubled over in pain and stumbled backward. Just as I gathered enough strength to stand back up, he charged at me. This time, I was ready and blocked him in time, which angered him even more. Not only was my dad a tall man, but he was also as strong as an ox for his age. It was natural strength that was more like a gift, because he almost never worked out to maintain it. What he didn’t realize was that although I wasn’t as cocky as he and Curtis, I had been blessed with his genetics and had that same natural strength. He underestimated me, mainly because I allowed him to smack me around. He glared at me, his eyes full of anger, and I retaliated with the same stare.

  He came at me again, and we locked like two pit bulls ready to fight to the death. We wrestled one another to the ground, grunting as we exchanged blows.

  “Kenny, Dad, stop it. Stop!” Curtis yelled as he tried to separate us. It took him a minute, but finally, he got enough space to push us apart.

  I leaned against the car, my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath.