The Family Business (10 page)

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Authors: Eric Pete,Carl Weber

BOOK: The Family Business
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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.
“Mrs. Sims,” I replied, maintaining a low voice in my most sincere manner, “Paris would be here, but to be quite honest, she’s currently under a doctor’s supervision and heavily medicated. This whole ordeal has traumatized her. I’m not sure if you’re aware of it, but she actually watched Trevor die in her arms.”
“I don’t give a damn about any
doctor’s supervision!”
she yelled at me. The disturbance caught the attention of half the church, freezing them in place as they stared in our direction. Not what I was trying for. “She should have died too. She should be dead just like my baby is!”
“I know whatever I say won’t be sufficient at this moment, ma’am, but if there is anything we can do, please don’t hesitate to ask.” I handed her husband my card, but she ripped it out of his hand and tore it to pieces.
“You wanna know what you can do? You can give me my son back! Can you do that? Can you give me my son back?”
I paused before answering gently, “No, ma’am, I can’t. Only the Almighty can do—”
“Then what you can do, Mr. Grant, is kiss my ass!”
The councilman raised his hand in a gesture to calm his wife. “What you can do is tell us what your employer’s daughter knows about the night Trevor was murdered,” Councilman Sims uttered.
“She already told the NYPD all that she knows, Councilman, I assure you. We’ve even gone over it repeatedly with her to see if there was something she missed. Believe me, we want these murdering dogs brought to justice as much as you. Given time, I’m sure the police will turn up some leads.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Sims,” a low feminine voice called out, interrupting our exchange.
I whipped my head around in shock, and I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was Paris! What the ...
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Paris, adorned all in black, with a matching fur and a pillbox hat, wept openly. The way she was dressed, you would swear she was the boy’s widow. What the hell was she doing? This was not what we agreed to.
She stared at Trevor’s parents before shifting her gaze to the casket. She slowly moved in its direction, seemingly oblivious to the other people trying to pay their respects.
“I thought you said she wasn’t coming,” Trevor’s father snapped accusingly.
“I ... I ...”
I
’ve just been made a fool of is what it looks like.
Although the mother said that she wanted Paris there, now I could see just how socially inappropriate it was.
Paris must be out of her friggin’
mind.
“They tried to keep me at home, but ... I had ... to,” Paris answered for me, still staring in the direction of the casket. “Trevor was so sweet to me. He didn’t deserve this. I’m sorry that I didn’t see the thugs who did it, but ... but I was so scared ... and Trevor was so brave, stepping in front of me.” She wiped her eyes, although I didn’t see any tears.
“I can still hear the gunshots over and over in my head. I didn’t know what to do. Thank God Trevor squeezed himself through that window and followed me, otherwise I would have been face-to-face with that gunman by myself. Mr. and Mrs. Sims, Trevor saved my life.” Paris looked like she was about to faint.
Mrs. Sims was becoming more visibly upset by the moment. I could tell her husband was becoming concerned about the effect that Paris’s ramblings were having on her. Then Paris walked over to casket and grabbed Trevor’s face, kissing him passionately.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry,” Paris said between kisses.
“What the hell is she doing?” Mrs. Sims screamed. She clutched her heaving bosom and shook her head.
I was so shocked by Paris’s actions that I couldn’t even speak. Paris had done some crazy shit over the years, but this by far was the craziest.
“Stop that! Stop that right now!” Councilman Sims shouted. When he grabbed his chest, I thought he was going to have a heart attack. “Mr. Grant, I think it’s about time the two of you left.”
“I completely understand,” I said as I snapped out of my trance. I grasped Paris by her shoulders and led her away from Trevor’s casket. I gave the boy’s parents a final nod as I maneuvered my dazed and emotional sister-in-law past the other visitors, who were still gawking. From the snippets of conversation I heard as we passed by, I realized that, much to my chagrin, a few recognized her as the ubiquitous socialite that she was.
Leaving the confines of hallowed ground, we stepped back outside into the chilly, damp air. “What the hell were you doing in there?” I snapped, turning Paris around to face me. I wanted to push her down the stairs in frustration for pulling a stunt like that.
“Paying my respects and giving these people what they wanted—answers to their son’s death. What did it look like?” she replied, her numbed state giving way to her typical demeanor. Obviously, her incoherent babbling had been a show for Trevor’s parents. “I don’t think they wanna ask me any more questions now, do they?”
“It looked like you were creating a scene and adding to those poor people’s misery. Your father told you—”
“Hey! Hey!” Paris exclaimed as we walked down the stairs toward the parking lot. “He’s my daddy, not my master. Maybe you should learn that, brother-in-law. Then again, if you had, Orlando wouldn’t be the one running things, would he?”
Now, that was hitting below the belt, and I wanted to punch her for it.
I stopped and turned to her at the bottom of the stairs. “You’re not going to taunt or shame me into thinking or behaving like you, Paris. Have some damn decency. Maybe your sister is right about you.”
“Whatever. Maybe my sister is just as bad as me—or worse.” Paris smirked, rolling her eyes.
She was purposely trying to bait me. Everyone in the family knew London and I had been arguing the past few days over this Jesse guy she’d dated and never told me about. I still couldn’t believe she’d had me thinking I was the only man she’d ever slept with for all these years.
“Anyway, all this death and sadness has me feeling all chilly. I need something to warm me up. Wanna get some coffee—or better yet, a drink?”
Before I could answer, a man’s loud voice interrupted us. “Harris Grant, why does someone always have to die for me to run into you?”
I turned to the voice, recognizing the impeccably dressed Vinnie Dash right away. Vinnie was my law school rival at Georgetown. We graduated first and second in our class. Unfortunately, I was number two, something he would never let me live down. Funny thing was that regardless of my second-place status, he’d been trying to get me to come to work for his family’s business for years.
I gave him a polite wave, hoping he wouldn’t make the trek down the stairs. Of course you know he did, and a lump formed in my stomach as he approached. I discreetly turned to Paris. “You better get out of here. This is business, and he’s very close to the press.”
“Yeah, that’s cool. Like I said, I need a drink,” Paris replied. She walked out of earshot just as Vinnie loped up to me, grinning from ear to ear as he offered me his hand.
“What? Now you’re following me?” I asked, taking his hand.
“No. Coincidence. Or maybe just karma,” he said, taking a sip of the coffee he was carrying in his free hand. Two of his employees walked behind him, pretending to be disinterested. “I’m paying my respects to the Sims family, just like you. Well, maybe not just like you.” He laughed. “Duncan’s kid can’t stay out of trouble, huh?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Is that the best use of your talents? Playing babysitter to spoiled brats? Jesus, Harris, you were number two in our class. You need to leave the amateurs. Come work for me, and this whole stinking borough can be yours.”
I cut my eyes at him. “Careful. That’s my family. And the only reason I was number two was because you cheated. Why don’t we compare our bar exam scores, see where that gets you?”
“You’re still a competitive fuck, aren’t you? I like that.” He eyed me from head to toe as if he were evaluating me. “I can see Duncan’s treating you good, but I can treat you better.”
I shook my head. “Vinnie, what are you doing here?”
“My family’s contributed a lot of money to the councilman’s campaign. My father thought I should pay my respects. This thing with his son may be just what he needs to cruise to the finish line. Big-time sympathy play. Unfortunate, but great if you’re trying to win an election. We like to be on a winning team.” He leaned against a car that was parked on the sidewalk. “So, did you think about my offer?” he asked. “It’s a sweet deal, and you’d be running the show without interference from us.”
“I did, but the answer is still no. I’m a Duncan, Vinnie. They’re not my employers. They’re my family. And I’ve already got a pretty sweet deal now.”
He chuckled. “Harris, Harris, Harris. You’re only a Duncan by marriage. We both know about your real family.” Vinnie smirked. “And you know how clannish the Duncans are. You’ll always be second, third, or even fourth place in their eyes when it comes down to it. Need I remind you of the old saying, ‘Blood is thicker than water’?”
“Maybe, but I’m obviously the wrong color for your organization,” I said, holding my hand up and placing it near his face. “I mean, you may have a nice tan, but my melanin’s a little stronger than that.”
“Didn’t you hear? It’s a new day. Black president. Yes We Can and all that candy-ass, Oompa-Loompa bullshit.” He laughed, then said, “Black is beautiful.”
“In other words, you want this nigger to open doors in the black community for you and your people. And maybe help you move in on LC’s business.”
“First of all, I resent the fact that you used the N word in association with anything I do, especially since you know how fond I am of black people.”
This time I had to laugh. “Black pussy maybe.”
“That, too, but on the serious side, we don’t give a damn about LC Duncan’s business. He’s a small fish in a big pond. But there is a lot of money to be made in the black community, and history has shown us that it’s best to have a black face deal with black people,” Vinnie said with actual sincerity.

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