Hard Candy Saga (26 page)

“Good job, my son. I knew you could do it,”
DeSosa
said proudly as he clapped his son on the shoulder.

 

Junior sat across from Rolando DeSosa Sr. Their eyes were locked on each other. DeSosa lifted a Cuban cigar to his lips slowly, sucking in, and blew a smoke ring in Junior's direction. His infamous diamond skull and crossbones gleamed on his front tooth. Junior bit down into his jaw and adjusted his neck.

“Junior,” DeSosa drawled, rolling the
R
at the end of his name.

Junior didn't break eye contact.

“You come here for my help, no?” DeSosa said in an unnervingly calm tone of voice.

Junior nodded slightly.

“But you question me also?” DeSosa followed up. He didn't appreciate the way Junior had accused him with fingers pointed.

“Look, DeSosa, I'm sorry for the way I busted in here. I'm just telling you what this dude said. First he said you worked for the government, and then he said he was a fuckin' DEA agent,” Junior confessed as he recalled the nightmarish scene that had unfolded weeks earlier.

“I had no idea. I feel like my ass had been set up by you, by him. . . . I just want some answers, man. I also want help with this problem,” Junior continued, humbly now. He was very careful with his tone as he warily eyed DeSosa's goons positioned on either corner of the room. Another was stationed on the other side of the closed door.

DeSosa moved his shoulders back uncomfortably. “You came here for my help? You say Phil harmed your family? Is that right?” DeSosa asked, blowing out more smoke rings. He completely ignored Junior's concerns about him being down with the government.

Junior nodded, rocking in his chair now. His frustration was mounting.

“And what about his brother? His family?” DeSosa asked.

“I told that nigga I didn't have nothing to do with the shit that happened to his brother. It was all Broady. He thought Phil killed his best friend, Razor, so he took revenge. I didn't have nothing to do with that,” Junior explained. “But Phil hit my moms,” Junior finished with venom. Nothing more needed to be said.

DeSosa seemed to contemplate what he was being told.

“Yes, I know everything, including the fact that you allowed a narco into my midst. Into my business!” DeSosa snapped, finally acknowledging Junior's confession.

“I didn't know Tuck was an undercover rat. It doesn't matter, anyway, does it? Aren't you untouchable?” Junior replied snidely. He was tired of the DeSosa bullshit.

DeSosa eyed him evilly. “You think Easy would've ever brought a rat into his company? You think he would've been that weak? You never were as good as he was at this business,” DeSosa said cruelly, chuckling.

Junior swiped his hands down his thighs and shifted in his seat. He could feel heat rising in his chest. His eyes darted across the room at the two men standing around, trying to look casual, their weapons making visible bumps under their suit jackets. Junior knew better than to express his outrage. He was here to ask for help, after all.

“Do you remember the day Easy brought you to me, Junior?” DeSosa asked. The rolling
R
sent a cold chill down Junior's spine. “You were so poor, so pathetic. Coming from nothing,” DeSosa said, curling his lip to show his disgust.

Junior swallowed hard. DeSosa liked to antagonize, and he knew just what to say to crush his opponent.

“You could never be Easy, eh, Junior, because you always make things so difficult for yourself.” DeSosa laughed at his play on words.

Junior rolled his eyes to the ceiling. He couldn't escape Easy's shadow for the life of him. His lips formed a hard, straight line as DeSosa ripped into him.

“You were a skinny kid. Hungry to be a part of something. Easy was proud of the job he wanted you to do. He had given you the responsibility of taking the package . . . the same way he started out. Easy was always loyal when he trusted someone,” DeSosa recounted, puffing on his cigar.

It was all too much: the words, the disrespectful smoke, the memories. Junior sat uncomfortably erect, uneasy. His hands were curled into fists; the veins in his wrists were bulging with restraint.

“Ah, yes, Easy Hardaway, the consummate humanitarian. He fed you. He taught you. He trusted you.
You
wanted to be
him.
I remember the day I met you. You stunk of envy. You reeked of animosity. I could see it in your eyes. You secretly hated the man who had fed and clothed you. From that day forward, I never trusted you. I knew when Easy wanted out, you would be the one I could count on to keep up the deal I had made with the devils, but I still didn't trust you. I knew you were so hungry for power that you would kill any man who stood in your way. You were born a snake. It is in your blood . . . a fucking cold-blooded killer like your father,” DeSosa hissed cruelly.

Junior's temple throbbed and sweat beads lined up on his hairline like ready soldiers. His chest heaved at hearing the truth. If he hadn't been so outgunned, he would've slapped the shit out of the old man for speaking to him so disrespectfully. But DeSosa was no real threat to Junior. Junior saw him for what he was: a shell of his younger self, a feeble old man racked by Multiple Sclerosis.

“Easy was not a saint. He killed one of my best friends, and he was a power hound. You know this. He only got out of the game because of Rock. A fuckin' hypocrite hit man acting as Easy's gotdamn moral compass,” Junior denounced.

DeSosa stubbed his cigar out and dropped his hands at his sides. He pushed on the wheels of his wheelchair until his entire body emerged from around the table.

Junior looked at him without sympathy. He secretly wished he had been the one who'd put the bullet years ago into DeSosa that had taken away his ability to walk.

The “sniper's bullet” had been a hiccup in DeSosa's career, but it had not taken him out of the game. Now, though, the disease had done what a bullet couldn't do; it made him weak and vulnerable. Seeing his time on earth as limited, DeSosa was forced to tie up some loose ends from the past.

“Junior, I can help you with your problem with Phil, but I want you to find the girl. Easy's daughter. I want her,” DeSosa said, close enough for both the sweet and pungent smell of his cigar to lodge in the back of Junior's throat.

“I don't know where to find her,” Junior replied in all honesty. He didn't want to make a two-sided deal. If he had to, he'd take care of Phil alone.

“Well, then, our business is done here,” DeSosa said with finality.

Junior swallowed his pride. He knew he needed DeSosa, and he wanted to feel like DeSosa needed him.

“All right, man, tell me what you want me to do. But I want guarantees that I will be the fuckin' one to put a bullet in Phil's head. He hit my moms in her face,” Junior growled.

“Good. Then we have a deal,” DeSosa said ominously.

* * *

Avon drove to his home in Bowie, Maryland, for the first time since his meeting with the DEA and Grayson Stokes. He had to make sure his kids were safe. Stokes had scared the shit out of him. Now, as Avon pulled into the housing subdivision, he couldn't help but remember the last time he went home.

* * *

As Avon recalled the entire nightmarish scene, he felt the same sharp tug in his heart. Avon blinked back tears. All he could do now was hope that his kids had forgiven him for making such a nasty scene. In the meantime, he would focus all of his efforts on seeing them to safety. He walked into his home to a hero's welcome. It was as if the kids had forgotten about the things that had happened. It had made Avon's heart smile to get a neck hug from his little girl—a hug that nearly choked him with its strength. Things with Elaina were strained. Avon didn't let that deter his focus.

Once the pleasantries and hellos were over, Avon wasted no time demanding that Elaina and the kids pack up and go some place until he felt it was safe to come home again. Although there were few places they could go undetected, he felt fairly comfortable leaving his wife and kids under the watchful eyes of Elaina's parents.

So they headed there together.

Paranoid, Avon spent the first two nights at his in-laws', staying there until he felt certain that his family was in good hands. Avon sat up all night like a guard dog, watching and waiting.

Avon hugged his kids and gave his mother-in-law a dry kiss on her cheek before leaving his family.

“Thanks for doing this, Helen. It won't be that long,” Avon assured her.

Helen raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms over her chest; her displeasure was evident. Helen didn't appreciate the fact that his job had placed her daughter and grandchildren in jeopardy.

Avon picked up his daughter and gave her a big kiss. She laid her head on his shoulders and asked him not to leave. Although Avon and Elaina had tried to pretend that their visit was casual.

“I promise to come back soon. Mommy is going to be here with you, okay?” Avon assured. With his heart heavy, he placed his daughter back down on the floor and turned toward Elaina.

The tension that settled between them made him feel queasy. An awkward silence ensued. They hadn't said anything of substance to one another since he had returned and ordered them to pack their belongings in haste. After the first day, all of the pleasantries had dissipated between the two.

“How long are you going to be gone this time?” Elaina asked. Her voice was laced with resignation and irritation.

Elaina hugged herself in an attempt to quell the trembling that racked her body. She hung her head, unable to hold eye contact with her husband. He was a stranger to her now. His being gone so long without so much as a call or an occasional visit, then the affair—and now his frantic plea that she and the kids relocate—was simply taking its toll on her body and soul. Elaina felt Avon always put his need to succeed above all else in his life, including her and the children.

Avon let out a long, frustrated sigh. Though their relationship was strained, her safety was still important to him. And she had some nerve being angry with him, he silently groused.

“I don't know how long I'll be gone, but I want you and the kids to stay here until you hear from me.” Avon needed to know that his wife and kids were out of harm's way.

Elaina shook her head from left to right and gnawed on her bottom lip. The pain and burden of it all was evident on both of their faces.

Elaina stepped closer to him, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She reached out a trembling hand. “Look, Avon, for what it's worth . . . it didn't mean anything to me. It was the closest thing I had to you,” Elaina confessed, her voice cracking and tears rimming her eyes.

He flinched and moved a safe distance from her grasp. Her words sent a sharp pang of hurt through Avon's chest. Elaina had been the first woman Avon truly loved. But she had also hurt him in the worst possible way. He knew his pride would never allow him to be with Elaina again, but divorce proceedings were the furthest thing from his mind right now.

Avon shoved his hands deep into his pockets to keep himself from reaching out and touching her. He wanted to embrace her, hold her face in his hands and tell her he was sorry for leaving and not calling. He wished he could explain that it had all been part of his job; it had all been for her safety. But he knew that wasn't entirely true, and they didn't need any more lies between them.

Her eyes begged him to understand, to love her again.

“I gotta go. I want you to stay inside the house as much as possible. Call me if you have to leave for longer than a few minutes,” he finally said in an all-business tone.