Authors: Eric Pete,Carl Weber

The Family Business (7 page)

BOOK: The Family Business

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Paris

“What are we supposed to do, Paris? I can’t believe you brought me to a ghetto place like this!”

Trevor’s girly reaction was starting to piss me off more than the fact that there was a robbery happening right outside the bathroom door. I couldn’t take it anymore; I went off on him. “What? You punk-ass motherfucker. You weren’t complaining about this joint when you was fucking me in that stall a few minutes ago. Now, man the fuck up and get us outta here.”

Suddenly, we heard three loud shots and plenty of screaming.

I was scared about our situation, but Trevor looked terrified, and there was no doubt in my mind that he was holding back tears. “Look,” he said, “maybe we should just go out there. If they catch us in here, they might kill us.”

“Fuck that. I ain’t going out there.” I reached inside my bag and pulled out the little semiautomatic .22 Junior had given me a few years back. I pulled back the hammer and let a bullet slide into the chamber.

Trevor was staring at me with more fear than he had for the men outside committing the robbery.

“What?” I snarled.

“You have a gun?”

“Ah, yeah,” I said sarcastically. “This is New York City we live in, not Disneyland. My sister was almost raped ten years ago. I don’t go anywhere unless I’m strapped.”

Bang! Bang! Bang!
Three more shots. Poor Trevor started shaking so bad, I thought he was about to have a nervous breakdown.

“Oh God, they’re gonna kill us,” he whispered. “They are going to kill us.”

With my free hand I reached into my bag for my cell phone and started dialing.

“Who you calling? The police?” He looked relieved, but that didn’t stop his tears from falling.

“Hell no. You can call the police. I’m calling my brother.” Sure, I talked a lot of shit about Orlando leading the family, but when the chips were down, he was the one who always got my ass out of the fire. I just hoped he could get me out of this.

The phone rang six times and then was answered by Orlando’s voice mail. I didn’t even give it time to finish playing the full message before I hung up and dialed Junior’s number. I probably should have called my father, but the last thing I wanted him to know was that I was out at a club and had gotten myself into a situation I couldn’t handle.

“Hello.”

“Junior, I’m in trouble. Big trouble.”

“What do you mean, you’re in trouble?”

“I’m at that spot on Sterling Place, the Nightlife Café, and some dudes just busted in the club and are robbing the place. Me and Trevor are in the bathroom, but it’s not gonna be long before one of them figures out that we’re in here.”

I could hear him sigh, but then he flipped on me. “Didn’t Orlando tell you to keep your ass out of Brooklyn?” he yelled.

“Yeah, Junior, but Orlando ain’t my—” I stopped myself, remembering what my father had told me about thinking things through before I spoke. Now was not the time to be starting a fight with my brother when I needed his help. “Yeah,” I started again with a more respectful tone. “He did, and I should have listened, but that ain’t gonna help me right now. I need you to tell me what to do.”

He sighed again. “You on the first floor or second floor?”

“First floor.”

“Is there a window?”

I looked around. “Yeah, but it’s small.”

“See if it will open, and then get your asses outta there.”

Damn, with everything happening so fast, I didn’t even think about looking for a window, and obviously neither did Trevor.

I pulled the phone from my ear and turned to Trevor, who’d just ended a call. “Trevor, see if that window will open.”

He ran over to the window and pulled it, but it opened only halfway, probably to prevent people from sneaking in. “It won’t open all the way. We won’t fit.”

I studied the window. “You won’t fit, but I will.”

He looked at the small opening, then at me. “You really going out that window?”

“Yep, if you give me a boost.”

For a quick second, he looked pissed, like I was deserting him, but then he finally manned up, cupping his hands for me to step into them.

“I’ll call you when I’m outside,” I promised.

He took a deep breath. “All right, you go ahead. I’ll be okay. The cops are on their way. I’ll meet you at the car when this is all over.”

“Nah. My people are on the way—and trust me, you don’t wanna be here when my brother shows up. He’s not gonna be a happy camper, and he’s gonna blame it all on you.”

“But-”

“Time to go.” I threw my bag out the window. “Bye, Trevor.” I gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. “I had fun.”

“Paris, please. I had a good time. I know I’m a little bit nerdy by your standards, but I like you. I don’t give a damn what your brother thinks.” His eyes refused to meet mine, and hurt registered on his furrowed brow. He probably wanted to continue what we began in the club. Maybe the “nice guy” in him wanted more. I know it sounds lame, but part of me kind of wanted that too, despite the little-bitch way he was acting just a few minutes ago. Hell, with a wife beater, some baggy jeans, and a couple of tattoos, I might be able to pass him off as a thug. Besides, good dick was hard to find, and so was a guy who Daddy would approve of.

“Okay, Trevor, I’ll meet you at the car. Here, take this.” I handed him my gun, then kissed him again. “All you have to do if anyone comes in here is point and squeeze the trigger. The safety is off, and I already have a round in the chamber.”

“See you outside.” He smiled and handed me his keys.

He cupped his hands again, and I stepped up and out the window. A few seconds later, I was on the ground outside the club, picking up my purse. I had a few scrapes from my fall, and my stockings and dress were ruined, but I was no worse for the wear. Now all I had to do was call Junior and let him know I was okay.

I checked my watch, shaking my head as I walked down the hall to Harris and London’s bedroom. The last thing I wanted to do was disturb my daughter and son-in-law so late at night, but unfortunately, as Harris was the family’s lawyer, I needed to talk to him about a problem that just couldn’t wait until morning.

I raised my arm to knock but stopped myself when I heard noises coming from behind the door. I was a little embarrassed to admit it, but they were the kind of noises that would make any father uncomfortable, despite the fact that my daughter had been married for five years and had her own child. I thought momentarily about leaving them alone and returning to my bedroom, but I had no choice. This situation needed immediate attention. I knocked on the door twice. Thankfully, the noise stopped and was replaced by whispering.

“Mariah ... honey, is that you?” London called.

“Ah, no, London,” I replied. “It’s me. Is Harris awake? I really need to speak with him. It’s important.”

There was more whispering, and then London said, “Yeah, Daddy. Just a minute. He has to find his robe.” I was sure she was as embarrassed as I was.

Harris opened the door, wearing his robe, slippers, and an irritated look on his face. I wished there was something I could say to him to smooth things over, but what do you say to a man who was screwing your daughter less than five minutes ago?

“What’s up, LC? Everything all right?”

“No. I need you to get dressed. We’ve got work to do.”

“What’s going on?”

I lifted my head and shifted my eyes toward his bedroom door to signal that I didn’t want London to hear us. “I’ll tell you in the car. Meet me downstairs in ten minutes. I’m gonna try and reach Orlando.”

He nodded his understanding, then headed back into his bedroom to get dressed.

As I waited for Harris, I tried to call Orlando again. This was probably the twentieth time I’d called him since we found out the shipment from Asia would not be delivered, and the twentieth time I’d reached his voice mail. He’d better have a damn good reason for not answering my calls, because if he wasn’t dead or seriously injured, I was going to kill him myself.

It wasn’t long before Harris came downstairs, retrieved his coat, and followed me to the front door. He looked tired, but then again, so did I.

“So what’s going on?” he asked.

“It’s Paris,” I told him as we headed for the BMW I’d driven home from the dealership. “She’s being detained at the Fifty-first Precinct in Brooklyn.”

“Son of a bitch! What is wrong with that girl?” Harris didn’t mask his frustration. I was sure he was sick of leaving his family in the wee hours of the night to retrieve her. “What are they holding her for now?”

I stopped in my tracks and told him, “Harris, that boy she brought to our board meeting tonight is dead.”

Shock registered on his face. “Get the fuck out of here! The councilman’s son? You’re kidding, right?”

“I only wish I was.” If he was half asleep before, he sure as hell was awake now. “Here, you drive.”

“Jesus Christ, did she do it?” Harris asked as he slid into the driver’s seat.

I wasn’t surprised to hear him ask that question. I didn’t want to believe she did it, but the possibility had crossed my mind as well. I loved Paris, but we both knew that she had a lot of issues to work through and a lot of growing up to do. She had been known to make impulsive decisions that got her into trouble ever since she was Mariah’s age. Not only that, but she had a temper that only I could control—probably because she’d gotten it from me in the first place. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first time she’d been held by the police and needed to be rescued. Usually, it was for fighting some woman over a man. One time it was for something as stupid as someone looking at her wrong, but not this time. This time it was because someone was dead, and we both had to wonder if Paris could have done it.

“No, I don’t think she did it,” I replied.

“Has she been charged?”

“From what the desk sergeant told me, she’s being held as a material witness. She was there when the boy got shot.”

“Well, that’s a good thing.” He placed the car in gear, and we headed down Rockaway Boulevard. “LC, this is what I’m here for. Don’t worry. We’ll get this cleared up quickly and have Paris home in no time. What did Orlando have to say?”

“Nothing. I haven’t been able to reach him.”

Harris tried to play it cool, but I could see it caught him off guard. “That’s unlike him. I hope he’s okay. Last thing we need is for him to show up missing.”

“Look, Harris, I don’t need anything else to worry about right now, okay? Let’s just focus on getting Paris away from the police. Orlando is a big boy. He can take care of himself.”

“Point taken,” he said, but that didn’t stop me from worrying about my son. Harris was right; this wasn’t like Orlando at all. If he wasn’t home when I got there, I was going to have to make a few calls.

Silence took over the car for a while as we were both lost in our thoughts about this latest situation.

After a while, Harris said, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” I already knew what it was going to be about.

“It’s about Orlando.”

Yep, I should probably have my own psychic network the way I could read his mind.

“What about him?”

“You sure this whole leadership thing hasn’t gone to his head? I mean, he should be here or with Junior.... Look, I know he’s your son and the man works hard for the company, but-”

“But what?” I leaned back in my seat and gave him a hard stare. Yes, he was my son-in-law and he did a lot for our company, but Harris was treading on thin ice talking about my son.

“Don’t get me wrong. He’s bright, but he still has a lot to learn about the business.” He gave me a sideways glance, and the confidence left his tone. “I mean, not that what I have to say matters. You’ve already made your decision. I just hope it’s the right one for the family. Personally, me and a few members of the family aren’t so sure.”

“Is that so? Which family members?” I was putting him on the spot because I knew there could be only one family member he’d spoken to, and that was his wife. I studied his face for a reaction. It looked like he was struggling to keep a poker face, but all his tension was evident in the way he was gripping the steering wheel.

“Hey, you know me. I’m a lawyer. I’m not going to throw anyone else under the bus. I could have kept this all to myself, but like you’re always telling me, you pay me for my opinion, so I’m giving it to you. But I’m not the only one with concerns.”

“Okay, so if you were in my shoes, how would you have handled it?”

He took his eyes off the road for a second so we could make eye contact. “Well, if I were you,” he began cautiously, “I would have named a temporary leader. That way if Vegas comes home, he can just take over, and if he doesn’t and the temp does a good job, you could make him permanent—or if Orlando is ready by then, you could put him in charge.”

“Sounds to me like you have this all worked out. So, who would you appoint temporary leader?” I asked, as if I didn’t already know who he would say.

He relaxed his grip on the steering wheel and placed one hand on his chest in a falsely humble gesture. “Hey, look, I don’t want to sound self-righteous, but I would have appointed me.” Oh, he sounded self-righteous, all right. “I already know the ins and outs of the businesses as well as you. I have a law degree, which, I might add, comes in mighty handy, and I have the respect of most of our employees. I could have done a great job. I would have made you proud.”

“And you don’t think Orlando will?” I asked, pushing.

“No, sir, I don’t.”

I sighed out of sheer exhaustion. Why did it seem like everyone in my family was determined to try my patience tonight? “Harris, if you’d like, once we get Paris home and I get some sleep, I will explain to you in detail why I chose Orlando over you. From what you said here, you’ve made a good case for yourself. I’d like you to listen to the case that was presented against you. Would you like that?”

He turned to me and smiled. “Yes, sir, I would, as long as I get a chance to redirect and defend myself.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

BOOK: The Family Business

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