“I’m not sending you anywhere,” my father stated frankly. “You’re gonna stay here with me, so I can keep an eye on you until this whole Trevor mess blows over.”
I wanted to laugh when Paris pouted like a little kid.
“But, Daddy-”
“Don’t ‘but, Daddy’ me. I’ve got a lot on my mind right now, girl. If your brothers and Harris aren’t successful, I’m going to have to eat a lot of humble pie. And I can’t stand pie.”
Harris
16
A cold, biting rain was my uncompromising companion as I joined the large crowd lined up outside First Jamaica Ministries for Trevor Sims’s wake. Councilman Sims and his wife had wanted it this way, a public wake, then a private funeral and a discreet burial sometime tomorrow. I hated going to funerals, but it was a duty I’d become used to as LC’s right-hand man and legal counsel for the family.
It had been three days since Trevor’s death, and so far, I’d been able to keep Paris and the Duncan name out of the press. A few more days of damage control and this whole thing would be water under the bridge. Not that things would be any less stressful for us with all the problems we were having with our distributors. Junior and I had met with our Korean contact, but that didn’t pan out at all. Once again, LC was right. Their product was just too inferior for a high-end operation like ours. What’s more, even if we wanted to go with them, they couldn’t put us in their distribution pipeline for a good six months to a year. By then our competitors would have eaten our lunch and taken over our markets.
Getting back to the task at hand, I followed the line of mourners into the church, to the open casket. Like everyone else, I stopped briefly to look at Trevor’s body before offering my condolences to the family. I had to admit that J. Foster Phillips Funeral Home had done a great job with him, because the kid looked good—almost as if he were sleeping.
I offered my hand to the grieving father. “Councilman Sims, I’d like offer my condolences. I’m—”
“I know who you are, Mr. Grant,” he replied curtly. “And what you do for the Duncans.” He maintained a gentle hand on his wife’s shoulder to console her. Their grief had to be terrible. I don’t know what I’d do if someone took Mariah from me in such a horrific fashion. I cringed at the very thought and shook my head to erase such an idea.
“I was expecting to see LC Duncan and the rest of his family, not his lawyer, but ... but thank you for coming.”
“A lot of people don’t know it, sir, but I am part of the family. I’m his son-in-law.”
“Well, then I hope you and your family will be a part of the Stop the Violence campaign we’re organizing, along with the Cash for Guns rally we’re having this weekend at Baisley Park.”
“I’m not sure if it will be me, but I’m sure someone from the family will be in attendance. I hope you will also accept our family’s condolences and our deepest sympathies on Trevor’s death. Paris was planning on attending, but she didn’t want anything overshadowing such a private time. We know how troubling this must be for you.”
“Wait a minute. She’s not coming?” Diana Sims questioned, her voice slow and wavering, either from medication or just plain old grief. “She was there when ... when my baby was murdered, and she can’t come to his funeral? Show some sort of respect for Trevor? My son would never have been in that area if not for her. He doesn’t go to places like that! He’s a good boy!” She shifted her eyes toward her husband, and he lowered his head as if she were using telepathy and had just told him off.