The Family Business (34 page)

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Authors: Eric Pete,Carl Weber

BOOK: The Family Business
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For LC, though, this bloody business was nothing new. He continued on like it was just another day at the office. “I have someone I want you to meet, Harris.”
He turned toward the older, white-haired man. “Johnny Mazz, this is Harris Grant. Harris, Johnny is a very dear friend and business partner. He also represents the Commission.”
From the first time he sought me out in college, Sal had spoken about the five Mafia families of New York and the Commission that ran them. I could always tell that he admired those families and aspired one day for his family to hold a seat on the Commission. And now I was meeting someone from the Commission mere minutes after shooting the man who’d told me about its very existence.
“I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to formally introduce myself,” Mazz said in a heavy Brooklyn accent, “but I’m sure you understand. We all needed to focus on the task at hand.”
I nodded but said nothing. I was too busy trying to make sense of this scene. Here was my father-in-law, proudly introducing this Mafioso, who didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the fact that I’d just killed a made Italian man.
“The Commission is in your debt for removing such a worthless piece of shit like Sal from the earth.” Mazz offered me his hand and I took it tentatively.
“I don’t understand. You
wanted
him dead? I thought he was one of your people.”
“Sure, he was Italian, but Sal’s family wasn’t a voting member of the Commission. They were warned specifically not to interfere with LC’s business.”
So, LC had the protection of the Mafia, and he was apparently very friendly with a high-ranking member. I was the family lawyer, but obviously there were some things LC still saw fit to hide from me.
LC continued the explanation where Mazz had left off. “That’s why Sal was trying to manipulate us and the Mexicans. If he could get us to kill each other off, then the Commission couldn’t say shit if he moved in on our territory. And because of the amount of money he’d make, the five families would have no choice but to give him a seat at the table.”
“But LC brought this to our attention, and thanks to your help, we no longer have that problem.” He reached out his hand again, and this time I shook it with more confidence.
Mazz said, “By the way, your father was a good friend and a good man.”
“That he was,” LC echoed.
“You knew about my father?” I asked, turning my attention to LC.
“Sure did. Did you think I was going to let you marry London and not know every minute detail about you? It wasn’t until I found out you were his son that I was convinced you had the right stuff to marry a Duncan.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. My old man was a scumbag.”
“No, your father was a good man,” Johnny explained. “It was Sal who was the scumbag. That’s why we had him killed. I know you want to get to your daughter right now, but when you have a chance, I’ll tell you all about your father.”
I looked back at the door, behind which lay Sal’s corpse.
Good riddance, you son of a bitch. I guess the next time we meet will be in hell.
Epilogue: Orlando
 
The backyard of our compound was packed with more than two hundred people helping to celebrate Mariah’s birthday. I was standing near the doorway to the main house with Pop, observing the festivities as we shared a couple of cold ones.
It was a little over three months since the war with Alejandro had ended, and our family had just begun to recover. Pop was still uneasy having all these people at our house, despite the fact we had more security than the President of the United States, and the guests were all confined to the backyard. It was his opinion that our recent battles with Sal Dash and Alejandro had exposed us in ways we weren’t prepared for and that most of our family couldn’t comprehend. Although we’d come out on top, Pop reminded me constantly that Vinnie Dash’s whereabouts were still unknown. He was also concerned that once the shock of Miguel’s death wore off, Alejandro might reignite the war between us. What concerned him the most was that we could never be sure if the violent nature of Uncle Lou’s death and Mariah’s kidnapping had drawn the attention of law enforcement. Truth is, only time would tell, and that made the old man very uncomfortable.
“You know we have a lot of rebuilding to do,” Pop commented with a bit of weariness apparent in his tone. “Sooner or later someone is gonna come gunning for us.”
“So I take it you don’t plan on going to Florida anymore?” I asked.
“If you don’t mind me sticking around, I kinda want to see how things play out. You’ve turned into quite a man, son, but these are trying times, and there are still some things you’re going to need to learn. I’d like to stick around and teach them to you.”
The fact that he wanted to stay didn’t surprise me. What did surprise me was that he still planned to hand things over to me someday. I had expected him to announce some changes that included removing me from my spot at the top.
“I can’t think of anyone I’d rather learn from, Pop.”
He nodded, raising his beer. “To the family.”
I joined his toast, sipping my beer as I looked out at the crowd and thought about the work that lay ahead.
We still needed to appoint four lieutenants to replace Pablo and Uncle Lou and to cover the slice of Dash’s territory the Commission had given us. We also needed to get on steady footing with a major distributor from areas beyond the U.S. Until we had a new pipeline, we were vulnerable. What good were we to the Commission or anyone else if we didn’t have the quality product they desired?
“Maybe we should go in the house and talk this thing out.”
“Pop, Dash is gone, and we’ve got a meeting with your man Lee on Monday about distribution. For at least one day, can you savor the moment and think positive thoughts? Relax and enjoy your granddaughter’s birthday party,” I requested of my father.
“You’re right.” He looked over at Mariah and London with a smile. Harris was taking pictures of them in silly poses, showing off their catlike faces, courtesy of the face painter we’d hired for the party.
Just watching them interact made me think of Ruby and the fact that she was carrying our unborn child. I hadn’t seen her since she disappeared from the protective custody of my men three months ago, and I really missed her. I had hired several private investigators to find her, without any luck.
“Look at them, son. After all that’s happened, who would’ve thought they’d come together like this as a family? I guess the baby helped.... I still can’t believe London’s pregnant again.”
“I just hope its Harris’s baby,” I replied. “Because if that baby comes out with blue eyes and straight hair, we’re all gonna have to restrain Mr. Harris Grant from committing his second murder and killing your daughter.”
“Didn’t you just tell me to think positive thoughts?” LC shook his head, but I’m sure he was a lot more concerned about the parentage of his unborn grandchild than he wanted to admit. “Come on. Rio and Paris are finally here. Let’s take that family picture your mother wanted.”
We headed over toward my mother, who was handing out plates for the buffet.
“What about Junior?” I asked. “Aren’t we gonna wait for him?”
“No, your mother has him running some errand. He probably won’t be back until tonight.”
I peeked over at the old man, but he purposely avoided making eye contact. We both knew Junior would never miss Mariah’s party unless it was something important, and a simple errand wasn’t that important. My father was hiding something.
“Pop, is there something I should know?”
LC stopped abruptly, just far enough away so my mother couldn’t hear him. “Leave it alone, son. You know how she can get when she’s on a mission.”
I took his advice and dropped the subject. I loved my mother, but everyone knew she could be a real bitch if you got in the way of one of her motherly missions. If it concerned the family business, I’d find out about it soon enough.
My mother gathered everyone together for our photo, and the photographer began arranging everyone. Of course, Paris made sure she was in the middle—until Momma put a monkey wrench in her plans.
“London, I want you and Paris to switch places.”
“Huh? Why? I’m good right here, Ma,” Paris protested.
“No, you’re not. I said move.” My mother put a hand on Paris’s shoulder to nudge her out of the way.
“But why? She’s good right next to her husband.” Paris rolled her eyes in London’s direction. London just smiled and flicked her hand at Paris like she was shooing a fly out of the way. The more things change, the more they stay the same. These two had been going at it like this for years, and I sure didn’t see it ending anytime soon.
“Because your sister is pregnant, and I want all our family members present to be in the photo, including the baby in her belly. Now move, girl.”
Paris and Rio exchanged a glance, communicating something in that “twin telepathy” they seemed to have. He shrugged, and Paris turned to my father.
“Daddy, that’s not fair,” she whined.
As hard as he was in the streets, my father was like a puppy dog around Momma. It was obvious by now that Momma had an attitude, and when she gave the old man the eye, he folded like a tent. He’d just recently gotten out of the dog house for sending Rio out to California, so Paris was on her own with this one.
“Paris,” he said, “just do as your mother says. When you get pregnant, you can be in the front of the picture, okay?”
“When I get pregnant?” She laughed and gave Rio another look. This time she spoke to him out loud. “They just don’t know, do they?”
Rio winked at her. “Well, like I been sayin’, ain’t no better time than the present to drop the bomb and school ’em. Besides, you said you were gonna tell ’em today anyway.”
“Tell us what?” My father was starting to sound a little agitated.
Paris smirked at London as she lifted up her unusually loose sweater to expose a small, rounding belly. She rubbed it in a slow circle and announced, “I’m pregnant.”
“Oh, Paris, no.” My mother’s hand flew to her mouth. She shook her head in protest. The rest of us were stunned into silence.
It took a while, but my father asked the question we’d all been thinking. “Who’s the father?”
Paris stared at him, looking genuinely taken aback by his question. I guess she thought her announcement was going to be cause for celebration, but judging from my father’s growing anger, the news definitely didn’t make him feel all warm and fuzzy.
“Who’s the goddamn father?” he asked, louder this time.
Rio chimed in like a comedian at a game show. He placed his fist near his mouth like he was holding a microphone. “Now, that’s the million-dollar question. Who is Paris’s baby daddy? Well, behind door number one there’s the newly elected congressman’s dead son, Trevor.”
Whom, I suspect, she killed,
I thought.
“And behind door number two there’s the West Coast pharmaceutical distributor’s dead son, Miguel.”
Whom, I might add, she definitely killed.
“Place your bets, ladies and gentlemen. We’ll find out in about six months who the winners are, but for the record, my money’s on the Mexican.”
Rio was about to continue his comedy routine, until Pops, Momma, and Paris all said, “Shut up, Rio!” in unison.
“Paris, my office now!” LC stomped off toward the house without waiting for a response.
Momma, on the other hand, was still staring at Paris like she’d brought home the Plague. “You heard your father. Now, get-”
“Junior!” Mariah spotted my brother and ran over to him. He lifted her up with one arm, kissing her cheek as he handed her the present he held in his other hand.
My mother pointed at the house, making sure Paris was headed in that direction, and then walked over to Junior. He placed Mariah down so she could open her present then walked about twenty feet away from the group with my mother. I’d stopped paying attention to them and was gossiping about Paris’s pregnancy with Rio, London, and Harris when my mother called my name.
I gave Junior a pound. “Hey there, bro, where you been?”
His mood seemed grim. “I was down in Philly taking care of something for Momma.”
“And?”
“Orlando, I don’t know how to tell you this....”
He just stopped speaking, and my mother had to continue for him. “We’ve found Vinnie Dash.”
I turned my attention back to Junior. “That’s great. Wait until Pop hears this. Did you take care of him?”
“Couldn’t. He’s got too much protection. If I took him out, it would bring a lot of heat down on us that we don’t need.”
“Protection? Who’s backing him?” I asked. Vinnie was a man with no home. There had to be a couple hundred guys out there looking for him—and that was just the Italians.
“Ma, that doesn’t make any sense. Who the hell would protect him? He’s got all kinds of money on his head.”
My mother handed me a picture as she spoke. “He’s being protected by the Jamaicans... and the mother of your unborn child. It seems Miss Ruby gets around.”
I looked down at the photo of Ruby, her belly round with my child, all hugged up with Vinnie Dash. Son of a bitch!
 
To be continued in
The Family Business 2: Extended Family.

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