The Family Business

My pulse was racing from the tension and anger that were building up inside of me. I was about to give the order to go over Dad’s head. If only there was a way to get my brother back without risking the wrath of LC. But if I was going to step up and be the head of the family business, then I couldn’t waver in my decision.

Pushing any doubt to the back of my mind, I said, “You damn right we have to do something, and we are.”

“Yeah, right,” Harris said as he stood up. “It goes without saying that I’ll have no parts of going against LC.” On that note, he straightened out his suit jacket and exited the room.

As he passed by, Paris mumbled under her breath, “Bitch ass. To this day I have no idea how London got pregnant by a *.”

Junior let out a chuckle. Even London, who would normally set Paris straight, just shook her head.

“What do you think, Junior? We need to get Rio out of Cali alive.”

Junior’s answer surprised me a little. “Orlando, we all know what being a Duncan is about. Risk is just part of the package. I don’t mean to sound heartless, but Rio is no exception. Believe it or not, I’m with Harris on this one.”

I looked to Paris. “What do you think?”

“Well, isn’t anyone going to ask me what I think?”

I turned to see my mother entering the living room.

“Momma? I thought you were lying down,” I said, regretting the fact that we’d held the meeting in the house.

“Well, do you or do you not want to know what I think?” she repeated.

“Of course we do,” Paris said, jumping in. As usual, she was trying to kiss up, but my mother wasted no time putting the freeze on her antics.

“Quiet, Paris,” she shot. “In all honesty, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation if it weren’t for you and your whorish actions.”

“I know, I know,” Paris said, clearly tired of being reminded. “And I feel like shit.”

“As you should,” Momma snapped. “Your brother may not live through the night because of you. This is all your fault.” Her tone was acid, but she looked like she might cry.

Junior walked over and rested a hand on each of her shoulders. “Relax, Momma,” he said, comforting her. “And of course we want to hear what you think.”

She walked out of Junior’s caress and over to me. “What I think, Orlando, is that you need to see to it that I get my baby home safe.” Her bottom lip was trembling.

“I will,” I assured her. “I’ll go get him and bring him back personally.”

“No. You need to be here to run things,” she said sternly, then turned to face Paris. “You go.”

I didn’t know if she thought it was some type of punishment for Paris, but that was like a Scooby Snack for her. Her eyes lit up, and her bags were as good as packed. “I’m on it,” she said, then immediately turned to go start taking care of her business.

“Hey, wait a minute here. What about Pop?” Junior was trying to be the voice of reason.

“Don’t you worry about your father,” my mother was quick to say. “I’ll take care of him.”



LC



38


“Been too long, LC. We should see each other more often.” The silver-haired man with the shark-like smile and trademark pocket square extended his arms as if expecting a hug. Behind him were four goombahs I didn’t know.

“I don’t know about that. Last time I saw you, I didn’t plan on seeing you again ... at least alive,” I said, denying him the disingenuous hug he sought for appearance’s sake.

Carl Weber with Eric Pete's books