The Family Business

Honestly, it looked like a lynch mob, and I felt like I was the one about to get lynched. I guess they’d had a chance to mull over the idea of me being their leader. Paris and Rio weren’t smart enough to orchestrate something like this so fast, so I had no doubt Harris was the ringleader.

“Almost getting arrested,” Paris corrected, rolling her eyes. “Lucky for me, my brother-in-law was around last night—unlike you—or there’s no telling what could have happened to me.”

It was time to start ignoring her again.

“Anyway ...” I turned to Harris. “This isn’t the first time you’ve had to bail her out. You’re the lawyer. What did you need me for?”

“He wasn’t the one who was looking for you.” The old man finally spoke up. He didn’t sound very pleased, and his expression matched his serious tone. “I was. Now, where the hell were you, and what were you doing that was so important you couldn’t return my call?”

“I ... I was out on Long Island, spending some time with a friend,” I tried to explain.

“Likely story,” Paris shouted.

I shifted my eyes in her direction. I swear, if she said one more fucking word ...

My father spoke up again. “They lose cell phone service out there on Long Island? ’Cause I must have left you twenty messages myself.”

Despite being all business all the time, I was entitled to be human every now and then, right? I could have a little fun. It wasn’t a crime to get laid, was it? These were the thoughts that ran through my head, but somehow, I still felt like I’d let him down.

“It fell in the water.” I dug it out of my pocket and held it up, like that would mean something to him, or anyone else, for that matter.

LC stepped toward me. “If you’re going to lead this family” —he stepped even closer—“then lead. Being a leader means you’re available twenty-four fucking hours a day.”

He made a good point, and there wasn’t much I could say, so I allowed him to continue his reprimand without interruption.

“Get your shit together, Orlando, ’cause if you can’t handle being in the big chair, there are other people willing to do the job.”

He glanced over at Harris, who smoothed out his mustache in an attempt to hide a smirk. I was sure Harris had scored every single point he could the night before, when I couldn’t be reached. I wanted to scream at all of them to cut me some slack, but I knew how immature it would make me look.

I still couldn’t understand why everyone was acting so over the top about this. I mean, sure, I should have been reachable, but it wasn’t as if my brief absence was the beginning of the end for the Duncans. Besides, I wasn’t even the leader yet. In truth, LC was still in charge.

“So that’s it? Paris has another minor mishap with the law and you’re all sitting around here like it’s the end of the world? Pop, why are you making a mountain out of a molehill? You’re acting like somebody died or something.” In the corner of my eye, I could see Junior waving his hand at his neck as if to signal me to shut up, but I saw it too late.

The old man cut his eyes toward me and stood up. Harris and Rio sat back in their chairs as if they were about to watch a fireworks show. What the hell was I missing?

“What the hell did you just say? You know what, Orlando?” LC said in this soft but still menacing voice. I recognized it as the tone he used when we were kids and he was about to put his foot in our asses. “Yes, somebody did die. And from what I hear, if you had answered your goddamn phone when Paris called, you might have been able to prevent it. So, you tell me. Is it a mountain or a fucking molehill?”

I had the right to remain silent, so that was exactly what I was planning on doing ... but I had to know. “Who died?” I asked in a much less confident voice.

LC didn’t answer me. He just sat there simmering.

Carl Weber with Eric Pete's books