The Family Business

“I don’t want anyone knowing we’re here,” Sal said as he motioned for the rest of his men to put away their guns. “Whoever that is, stop them.”


“No worries,” I said, gesturing to Harris. “Go.” As my men stowed their weapons, he ran to intercept his daughter. He caught Mariah just as she was pulling on the door.

“Grandpa, you in here?” she asked into the dark as Harris embraced her.

“Yeah, Mariah,” I replied, my eyes fixed on Sal. “I’m busy right now. Go with your daddy, and I’ll see you in a minute.”

“Kids. They’ll be the death of us all,” Sal said with probably the first genuine smile of this meeting.



London



39


When Harris escorted Mariah from the back of the dealership, I was startled to see him. Our daughter had run ahead of me when we arrived, but we couldn’t find anybody at work other than the one employee who let us in as he closed up.

“What are you doing here?” Harris asked, almost whispering. I was wondering the same about him.

“Mariah likes to visit. You know that.”

“Not today,” he said firmly.

“Excuse you? You don’t tell me when to visit my father’s place.”

“Okay, okay. That’s not what I meant,” he said, waving to diffuse the tension. “We have guests. No one’s supposed to be here. No one.”

“We? You mean LC has guests. When did you get so deep in the business?”

Harris cleared his throat, reminding me that Mariah was listening. I hated to admit that he was right. I knew better than to talk about any of this in front of my child. I was restless as of late, caught up in betrayal, both Harris’s and my own, and it was causing me to be careless.

“What’s gotten into you?” he asked, a lawyer’s suspicion keenly alerted. “Damn, London. I’m trying to keep you out of trouble.”

“I was doing just fine before I met you, and I’m doing just fine now,” I snapped as images of Harris’s lipstick-stained shirt came to mind. If I ever came across the bitch who left her lipstick mark, I would beat her ass good. For all I knew there was more than one.

“Something you want to talk about?” he asked in an irritated tone.

“No. I just wanted Mariah to see Daddy.”

“He’s in the bay with Orlando and the rest, but you can’t go in there. Look... why don’t you take our daughter home? This isn’t the place or the time. I’m sure your father will be there soon.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” I replied, feeling a little stupid for being so ornery when Harris was only considering our daughter’s safety. “Who’s in there?” I asked as I placed a hand on Mariah’s head to guide her out of this place. I used to know something about how this stuff ran. Now it seemed like I was always the last to know. I wasn’t exactly sure when it happened, but I was becoming an outsider in my own family.

“Italians,” he replied.

It took me a second to react. I heard Italians and thought about Tony. I hadn’t let a man make me feel like a silly schoolgirl since, well, school. He was making me feel alive again. I hated that he’d had to cancel our rendezvous earlier today.

“Dash?” I asked, stunned at the possibility.

Harris nodded.

“I’ll see you at home. C’mon, baby. We’ll see Grandpa later.” Knowing the implications, I hurried Mariah away from the potential war zone.

Carl Weber with Eric Pete's books