The Family Business (8 page)
Read The Family Business Online
Authors: Eric Pete,Carl Weber
Harris
13
Once again I came through like a champ, saving the Duncans’ asses and doing it with style. It took me less than fifteen minutes to get Paris out of police custody, a feat I was sure impressed LC. She’d still have to come back in a few days and answer the cops’ questions, but hopefully by then this whole thing would calm down so I could sit down with the right people to have it all swept under the rug. LC had made it very clear to me that he did not want Paris or the Duncan name attached to this case in the media in any way. Of course, that was a tall order, but doable considering how greedy both cops and reporters were these days. I’d already made some inroads with the lieutenant on the case, so I wasn’t concerned about the police, and thankfully, it was already too late for the story to make the morning papers or TV news.
Now all I had to do was get Paris home. That, of course, was if LC didn’t kill her first, because when I walked out into the hallway, the two of them were staring each other down like gunfighters at the O.K. Corral.
“Daddy, I didn’t do anything. I swear,” Paris pleaded, taking a step back so she was out of his reach—which was probably smart, because LC did look like he might smack the shit out of her.
“Shut up,” he said angrily, pointing his finger in her face as he closed the gap between the two of them. “Just shut up. Don’t you say another word.”
“But, Daddy—” That damn Paris just didn’t know when to be quiet. She was always trying to explain her way out of things, when the smart thing to do would be to just shut her mouth. This time, though, she must have sensed the level of her father’s anger, because she cut her sentence short.
I watched as LC closed his hand into a fist. I had no doubt what his next action would be, so I acted fast. “This is not the time or place,” I reminded him through clenched jaws. He shifted his eyes in my direction, and I saw that cold stare he got when he was about to explode. “Remember where you are,” I continued calmly. “This is a police station.”
He glanced around, then nodded as if I’d brought him out of a hypnotic trance. Paris had just dodged a bullet, and I was not even sure she knew it.
“Paris, why do the ones I love the most always disappoint me so?” he asked. They continued their staring contest for a few more seconds, and surprisingly, Paris didn’t have anything to say. Without another word, LC turned and walked toward the exit.
His reaction must have stung more than any slap in the face. Paris looked like she wanted to break down and cry, which was not something I saw often from her. I walked over and wrapped my arm around her shoulders, but she pushed me away.
“I’m a’ight,” she said, following behind her father but giving him some distance.
When we first arrived, LC and I had come in the back door of the precinct, in case the press was camped out in front of the building. I decided that it was best we left the same way, considering the lieutenant told me that Trevor’s family was on their way.
Once we were safely outside, I didn’t waste any time getting Paris in the car and putting some distance between us and that police station. It would be daylight in a few hours, and I couldn’t wait to get to my bed, where, if I was lucky, London might want to finish what we’d started before LC interrupted us.
“Harris, I got to give it to you, brother-in-law. You was gangsta in there with that law shit. I thought those cops were going to crap on themselves when you told me I could leave,” Paris said with her version of affection. She stretched across the black leather seat, stifling a yawn, as if this were just another night out at the club for her. It appeared she’d forgotten about her little confrontation with LC just that quick. He, on the other hand, was obviously still stewing.
“Anytime, sis, but let’s try not make this a habit,” I replied, wishing this could be the last time I had to do something like this—but knowing that in all likelihood, it wouldn’t be. I preferred the corporate side of the law when working on behalf of the Duncan family interests; that was the side that made me lots and lots of cash.
“Paris, I’m gonna ask you this one time and one time only.” LC spoke in a calm, nonthreatening voice. The proud, defining lines on his face barely shifted, despite the tension at hand. “Did you have anything to do with that boy’s death?”
I didn’t know what he expected her answer to be, but I certainly expected her to say no. The longer she remained silent, though, the more nervous I became. I felt my stomach twist into a tight knot when I heard her answer.
“Yes, Daddy, I did have something to do with it.”
I slammed my foot on the brakes so hard, the car came to a screeching halt. Thank goodness for seat belt laws, because without them, LC and I would have gone through the windshield. I said a quick prayer of thanks for the simple fact that there had been no other cars on the road to crash into us from behind.
“Tell me I didn’t hear what I think I just heard,” I said, turning to LC. “Please tell me she didn’t just admit to killing that boy.”
“I’m sorry, son, but you heard right. We both heard right,” he growled. “I spent almost half a million dollars sending her to special schools in France and Asia so that they could refine her, teach her discipline, so she would act like a lady, and all they did was send me home a cold-blooded murderer. Little girl, I don’t know what I’m gonna do with you. I’m about ready to give up.”
“Wait a minute! Hold on! What the hell are y’all talking about? I didn’t murder him or anything like that.”
“You didn’t?” LC and I said in unison, turning toward the backseat.
“No, but I might as well have pulled the trigger myself by bringing him to that club. He didn’t deserve this, Daddy. He didn’t even wanna go to the club, but I insisted. If it wasn’t for me, he’d be alive right now.” I almost thought I saw a tear in her eye. This night just kept getting more and more bizarre.
Her sudden sentimental attitude was not something we were used to seeing, but I, for one, was willing to brush it off as shock from the incident. I took my foot off the brakes and started driving again. I would need to know more details before she went back to answer questions at the precinct, but for now, I was happy to accept her words at face value and head home.
As we crossed the Brooklyn-Queens line, I glanced back at her as she looked out the passenger-side window with misty eyes. Her mind was probably still somewhere back in Brooklyn, rewinding Trevor’s death over and over again. I have to admit I felt sorry for her, and I think LC did too.
“Honey, these types of things happen in life. That’s why Harris, your brothers, and me are so hard on you. You can’t do everything you want to just because you know we’re going to bail you out of it. There’s an order of things in this family. You are going to have to start taking responsibility for your actions.”
“I am. I will ... I’m gonna do better, Daddy. I promise.”
He turned around fully in his seat to face Paris. “I hope so, because I won’t be up here to help bail you out much longer. Once Orlando’s in charge, he’s not going to be putting up with this like I do.” LC straightened in the seat, looking through the windshield again, and announced, “You are staying home the rest of the week. I don’t want you bumping into any reporters or cops by accident. Then, Monday, you’re coming in to work, and I don’t want to hear a negative, trifling word out of you.”
My eyes met Paris’s in the rearview mirror. She knew silence was best on her part. It was no time to test her father. Besides, now that she was safe, his mind had probably already moved on to Orlando.
London
14
Thanks to Paris, there would not be a late-night romp with my husband or much sleep, for that matter. Not with Harris running out in the middle of the night with Daddy for yet another emergency involving Paris—which, of course, they didn’t have time to discuss with me. Shutting me out was becoming more and more of a habit for them ever since I stopped working.
The only reason I even had the little bit of information I did was because I ran downstairs and confronted Junior as soon as I heard his loud-behind car pulling in the driveway. He looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He obviously wasn’t in the mood to talk about it, but when I asked him where Daddy and Harris were, he mentioned something about Paris and the police. That little wench couldn’t stand the idea of Orlando having the spotlight. I guess she had to go and do something stupid to get Daddy’s attention.
I turned on the back lights and went for a walk in Momma’s garden as I waited for Daddy and Harris to return home. I could only hope the tranquillity of its beauty and the small pond would calm my nerves. Instead, it just left me on simmer, so I returned to the house. I had just reached the top of the stairs when I heard car doors shutting.
I ran to the catwalk overlooking the foyer and living room and quietly watched Harris, Daddy, and Paris enter through the front door. None of them seemed very talkative, though if Paris really was in trouble with the police, I could assume there had been quite a bit of discussion in the car on the way home. I’d heard plenty of Daddy’s lectures in my day, back when I was more involved in the business, and I remembered them as if they were yesterday. Daddy always called them his “teaching moments.”
Daddy said something quietly to both of them before excusing himself and walking into the living room, where Junior was sitting. Harris said a few words to Paris, and she reached out to hug him. From my point of view, the hug was way too long, her hand was way too close to his ass, and I was way too distrustful to let it go—especially since her newest cry for attention had interrupted some of the best loving my husband had given me in a long, long time. Now she was hugging my husband, playing for more sympathy ... or who knows what else. Oh, no, I wasn’t having that. I raced down the stairs and cleared my throat to make my presence known.
Paris jumped in surprise as she realized I was only several feet away and had witnessed the entire thing. Harris was equally startled and quickly backed out of my sister’s embrace.
“Well, don’t you two look cozy,” I sneered.
“Oh, please, London. I was just thanking him,” she replied, her bravado returning quickly to replace her surprised look.
“Thanking him for what? What did you do this time, Paris?” I snapped. “What did you do that had you in the custody of the police? Another bar fight with some sister-girl’s man?”
“Da-yum. You all up in my business. Shouldn’t you be asleep?” She waved her hand dismissively, as if she were shooing me back to bed. I was not about to budge, but I’d be damned if Harris didn’t take up for her!
“London, let it go,” he said. “We worked it all out. Everything is taken care of.”
“Is that what you were doing just now? Taking care of it? Or were you working it out?” My sister had such a superior smirk on her face that a thought suddenly entered my mind. “Was it Paris who called you last night on your phone?” I asked.
“Oh my God!” He rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling. “Now you’re sounding silly, babe. I think you must be sleep deprived.”
“Is that what I am, silly and sleep deprived? Well, maybe I need to sleep in the guest room for the next couple of nights.”
“Look, honey, there’s no need to take this to another level. Paris was just thanking me for my services. Isn’t that right, Paris?”
“Mm-hmm, and I appreciate your services.” Harris couldn’t see it, but the smirk on her face told me exactly what services she was trying to imply. Yeah, maybe I was tired and a little cranky, but I was not going to take that shit.
I lunged at her to lay a slap on her face. Harris tried to get between us, but he was too slow. Still, when my open hand arrived, Paris had already sidestepped it with the grace of a ballerina. Nothing was left in front of me but open space. My momentum carried me onto the floor where I fell, my robe spilling open. “What kind of services, you little hooker?”
“Law services, you stupid bitch.” Paris mocked me with another smirk. “Don’t nobody want no man that belongs to you.”
Harris was quick enough this time, folding me in his arms to prevent any further violence. As I struggled to close my robe, I shoved my husband’s arms away.
“What about Jesse?” I screamed. “You sure as hell wanted him, didn’t you?”
As if I had cracked open a hard-boiled egg to reveal the soft inside, Paris’s angry face softened and her voice wavered as she spoke. “Damn, you still on that Jesse crap? How many times I gotta tell you I’m sorry? You wouldn’t even be with Harris if I hadn’t helped you to break up with that loser.”
She was right. I wouldn’t have even met Harris if it weren’t for her, but that didn’t change a damn thing. She could say she was sorry a million times, but it would still never be enough. Not after what she did. Not after she broke the sacred rule and our sisterly bond. The pain of her betrayal still stung as if it had happened only a day ago.
It had happened at the beginning of my senior year at George Washington University, when I invited Paris down for the weekend before she went off to private school in Europe. We were four years apart and had a fairly close relationship. Paris actually seemed to look up to me back then, probably because I knew what it was like to be a teenage girl in a household with LC for a father and three well-known, overbearing older brothers. My parents wanted me to talk to her about the trouble she’d been in and why she needed to stay focused on her studies while she was in Europe.
“So, you ready for Europe?” We were sitting on the grass outside my dorm the day she arrived. I wasn’t an ugly duckling, but it was amazing to see all the guys checking her out as they walked by. I have to admit I was a little jealous of my eighteen-year-old sister’s knack for attracting male attention and making it seem so effortless.
“I guess, if that’s what Daddy wants,” she said, pouting.
“It’s not what he wants, Paris,” I said. “It’s what he thinks is best. You have to admit you do have some anger issues. It’s your senior year, you’ve only been back to school two weeks, and you’ve already been in two fights. What do you want Daddy to do? They expelled you.”
“He could have backed me up. Okay, maybe I was wrong for hitting Lisa Jackson, but that bitch Trina ... she deserved it.”
I shook my head and laughed. “She caught you giving her boyfriend head under the bleachers. What would you have done?”
“I would have whipped my ass. But obviously, she can’t whip my ass. That’s why her jaw’s wired shut now and I’m still looking as flawless as ever.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. I know I shouldn’t have encouraged her, but the things she said were so funny sometimes. God knows I loved her, but Paris definitely did not see reality the way most people did.
“Nonetheless, your only other choice is to get a GED, and you know LC ain’t having that. From what Momma told me, this school is going to help you to hone that aggression you have inside you. Make a lady out of you.”
“Hone my ass! All they’re gonna do is try to change me, London, and that ain’t gonna happen. You can take the girl out of Queens, but you can’t take Queens out of the girl.” She folded her arms, posing in a B-boy stance. “Southside! Jamaica!” She started throwing her hands up in the air, not caring who walked by and saw her doing it. Back then I wished I had half of her confidence.
“You know what? I’m glad you came here before you left. I missed my little sister.”
“Missed you too, London.”
I pulled two apples out of my bag and tossed one to her. She caught it, then took a bite.
“So, you thinking about college when you come home? If so, I have nothing but good things to say about GW,” I offered.
“I hear you, but I doubt it. I wanna work for Daddy, like Junior, Vegas, and Orlando. He said that when I get finished with these two years in Europe, I’ll have a job waiting for me,” my sister said, grinning as if eager to prove herself.
“Don’t be in such a rush,” I admonished her. “Trust me about that. Junior and Vegas have told me stories. When it comes to the family business, enjoy your youth. Have fun, sis. I’m only telling you this out of love.”
“Hey, London. You ready to go?” I turned to the familiar voice belonging to the tall, dark-haired, olive-skinned man with a backpack. He wrapped his arm around me and planted a kiss on my lips.
“Paris, this is Jesse,” I said, offering introductions. “Jesse, this is my sister, Paris.”
From her expression, I could see she was surprised. I’d been going with Jesse for almost two years. He was my first and only lover, but I hadn’t told anyone in the family other than Vegas about him, and Vegas was sworn to secrecy.
“Hey. What up, Paris? I heard a lot about you,” he said jovially, with that preppy swagger that I thought was so hot. He stuck out his hand, and when Paris reached to shake it, he took hers and kissed it. She started blushing from ear to ear.
“Well now, I guess I showed up at the wrong time. If you two have plans, I can find something to do until you get back,” she said.
I waved my hand. “Nonsense. You’re my little sis. I’ve missed you.” I turned to face my boyfriend. “Jesse, is it all right if Paris hangs with us tonight?”
“Of course it is. Does she dig poetry?” he asked, reaching out and taking a bite of my apple.
“Cool. You mean like a Poetry Slam Jam?” she asked.
“Uh ... no.” Jesse looked at me and winked. “She’s cute, London.” He turned back to my sister and explained, “More like the classics. Robert Frost, Shakespeare, Kipling, Word-sworth, T. S. Eliot ... But you may hear a little Langston Hughes. Don’t get out much, do we?”
“No, I don’t, but I’m trying to make up for lost time.”
Jesse glanced at me for an explanation, but I just shrugged. My little sister was trying to act grown. Little did I know how far she was about to take things.
“Look, Jesse, there are two things I need before I leave D.C., and my sister doesn’t seem to know how to help me with either.”
“Okay, little sis,” he said, chuckling. “What do you need?”
“Number one, I need some weed, dude.”
I lowered my head in embarrassment. She had been asking me about getting some ever since she got off the train, but I had no idea she would bring it up so casually to someone she just met.
“Number two, I’m about to go to Europe for two years on Monday, so one of the things I promised myself before I left was that I was gonna get me some college dick. So, if you got some friends, hook a sister up.”
I threw my hands up in the air. “Paris, I can’t believe you just said that to him.”
“You said you were going to treat me to a good time. If I can get those two things accomplished, I will have officially had a good time. No doubt about it.”
I turned to Jesse. “Baby, I’m sorry. She’s a little bit ... high strung.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t hold that against her.” He laughed, but Paris didn’t—until he said, “Don’t worry, little sis. We’re gonna make sure all your dreams come true this weekend.”
God, if my father had had any idea what I was letting my sister get into, he’d have killed me.
We went to the poetry reading at a small club off of Fourteenth Street. It was a chance for the three of us to get acquainted and loosen up. Afterward, we stopped at Burger King before retreating back to Jesse’s place, a sparse student apartment just off campus in what tourists would call “a dangerous part of town.”
Jesse brought out a bottle of MD 20/20, better known as Mad Dog around campus. It was cheap and sweet, but we college kids loved it because we could get drunk on a budget.
“Damn, this some good shit,” Paris said with surprise as she sucked down half the bottle of blue raspberry Mad Dog. “They don’t sell this in New York.”
“Oh, they sell it, but not in your neighborhood,” Jesse teased. “London, you might wanna slow your sister down, or she’s gonna have quite a headache in the morning. That Mad Dog has quite a kick.”
Jesse lit the bong he’d been filling. Paris had nagged him all night about rounding up a bag, until he relented, calling up one of his people before we went to his place. I’d hesitated to let her drink or smoke at first, until my little sister reminded me of a few wild parties Orlando and I had held at the house when our parents were away. I couldn’t argue when she pointed out that she was already older than I’d been when those parties took place.
I laughed, then took the bottle from Paris to finish it off. “Well, she’s my responsibility, so if she’s gonna have a headache, I might as well have one too.”
When I turned back toward my sister, she was taking a hit from the bong. She tried to brag, saying, “New York’s shit is better, but this ain’t b—” but she was overtaken by a coughing fit. She was still a kid, after all, only eighteen.
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