Junior pounded his fist on the table, silent until now. “Shit! Y‘all some fuckin’ kids! I got my boys out there on these streets, feelin’ heat, and we got no answers! Is this how it starts? The end? Everything we worked so hard for? Damn.”
“We might not be alone in this situation,” Harris noted, using his most lawyerly tone. As usual, he’d calculated things and waited for the right time to offer his input.
“We’re listening,” I said, moving around Paris to better address my brother-in-law. “Spit it out.”
“Others have expressed to me that they’re feeling pressure too.”
“From?” I pressed.
“Mexicans.”
“Shit,” Paris cursed a half second before Junior.
“And that they’re actively trying to cut out the middleman here,” Harris continued.
“Using our shipment,” Junior muttered as he shook his head.
“The people that expressed this to me want to speak with LC.”
“Who?” I asked.
“The Italians. Sal Dash and them.”
“And why did they pick you to speak with?” I was suddenly curious as to what else my brother-in-law hadn’t shared. Maybe I would have to keep a closer eye on him.
“Being a lawyer in this city, I guess they felt approaching me might result in a less violent reaction than from one of you,” he replied.
Part of me wanted to punch him in the face for his arrogance, but he did have a point. Even Junior shrugged his acknowledgment of the facts. “You believe them?” I asked Harris.
“I don’t know.”
“You’re a lawyer. You deal in lies twenty-four/seven. You can’t tell if they speak with forked tongue?”
“No. I haven’t spoken with Dash,” he said, ignoring my insult. “Mainly a go-between, one of his errand boys. Sal wants to speak with LC—family head to family head.”
I took a moment to assess the body language of the three of them—Harris, Paris, and Junior. If we still had anything left, I would have to learn to depend on these three. “Okay,” I decided. “I’ll tell LC. Make the meeting happen, counselor. Right away, but on our terms. We don’t need any more fake Feds showing up, trying to take us out. If this is a setup, it’s on your head, brother-in-law. And family or not, I mean that literally. It’s on your head.” I tried to give Harris my best LC glare.
“If what the Italians say is true, then Rio is as good as dead,” Paris pointed out, and a noticeable pall fell over the room.
I needed to keep everyone focused on the business at hand, before our worst fears paralyzed us.
“Junior, find our shit. Or at least find out who has it. Do whatever you need to do. We’ve played nice for too long. Duncans don’t do nice. It’s time to remind the streets of that.”
I turned to my sister and continued handing out orders. “Paris, get a small team together. Discreetly. We need most of our people here, but you’re going to L.A. If I’m wrong and things get royally screwed with Alejandro, I’ll deal with it. But this...,” I said, thumping my finger on the table for emphasis, “this ain’t happening to my brother. Our brother.”
“Did LC approve of this?” she asked.
“No. And maybe you can get some shopping in on Rodeo Drive when this is all over. Isn’t that why you’re going? Just another shopping trip and a chance to see your girls on the West Coast?” I asked coyly.
“What has gotten into you?” she asked, smiling wildly.
“Taking a stand. We have to do something,” I said. “Rio said everything is all right, but I know better.”
“Why? What exactly did he say?” Paris was practically bouncing around the room at this point. She was hyped for a fight. She lived for this kind of high drama.
“Alejandro wants to talk to Miguel. Rio says he’s getting antsy.”
“That’s not good,” Harris stated.
“Tell us something we don’t know,” Paris snapped back.
“We have to do something,” Junior added.