I was already reaching for the decanter of cognac when he said, “Coke is fine.”
“Coke? I was gonna offer you my good cognac. You sure you want Coke?” I knew Johnny liked my cognac because he and Vegas used to sneak into my office for a taste.
“Coke’s fine, Mr. Duncan. I don’t drink no more,” Johnny replied seriously. “It’s been about two and a half years since I took a drink.”
Now, that surprised the hell outta me.
“Two years, huh? That’s good, Johnny.” I handed him a can of Coke from the mini fridge. “Glad to hear you’ve cleaned yourself up.”
“Yeah, me too.” I heard the words come out of his mouth, but I could see him eyeing the decanter as I poured myself a drink. “You sure you won’t have one?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” I could hear the hesitation as he sat down in a chair across from my desk and took a sip of his soda.
I sat down and stared in his eyes. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, Johnny, but you look troubled.”
“That’s ’cause I am in trouble, Mr. Duncan.” Johnny took a long sip then glanced up at me. He had tears in his eyes. “More trouble than I’ve ever been in, and I don’t know what to do.”
“What kind of trouble, son?” I asked.
“The kinda trouble where you end up in a body bag,” he said matter-of-factly.
I leaned forward in my chair, more concerned about my son than anything else. “And how exactly is Vegas involved with this trouble?”
“He’s not, but he’s the only one I could think of to help me out of it.”
I tried to mask my relief. “You do know I’m probably the first person Vegas is going to come to with your problem, Johnny, so why don’t you tell me what’s going on? Maybe you and me can figure this situation out without getting Vegas involved.”
“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” Johnny sat up for a second. I was sure he was about to tell me what was going on, but we were interrupted by Sherry.
“Excuse me, Mr. Duncan. A gentleman who says he’s your business partner insists on seeing you.”
She handed me his business card, and I almost pissed myself when I saw the company name. “Where the fuck is he?”
“He’s in the conference room,” Sherry replied.
“Johnny, hold tight for a second. I gotta take care of something. I’ll be right back.” I didn’t wait for a response. I was on my feet and out the door so fast. Sherry was on my heels, but I quickly dismissed her. “This is a private meeting, but if you want to do something, take Johnny down to the breakroom and get him a sandwich and another Coke. This shouldn’t take too long.”
She stopped in the corridor and said, “Yes, sir,” as I trudged away, prepared to whip somebody’s ass.
I stormed into our conference room. Sitting at the head of the table was KD Shrugs, a short, fat, middle-aged redneck who was as mean and ruthless as they come. He was dressed in a blazer, jeans, and cowboy boots. To his right, standing in the corner, was a refrigerator-sized redneck bodyguard wearing a Make America Great Again T-shirt. I thought about slapping KD’s fat ass for having the audacity to show up at my place, but at my age, going up against the bodyguard without shooting him could prove to be painful. It was times like these I wished one of my sons were around—or maybe even Paris.
“Nice place you have here, LC,” KD said in his long Southern drawl. “And that secretary of yours makes a real fine cup of coffee.” He lifted up a black Duncan Motors coffee mug as if he were an invited guest. “Oh, and she’s got a nice ass, too, if you’re in the mood for a little brown sugar.” He and his bodyguard began to laugh hysterically, until I raised my voice.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“God damn, who the hell pissed in your corn flakes this morning?” KD slid a black duffle bag across the table. “Here. Maybe this’ll make you feel a little better.”
“What’s this?” I unzipped the bag. Inside were stacks of money. Without even counting it, I knew there had to be at least a hundred thousand dollars.
“That’s your cut for the month. Business is good. I’m thinking about buying a few more trucks.”
“Not good enough for you to be showing up at my fucking place of business,” I growled, zipping the bag up. “We have a deal. You don’t come to my office, my home, or anywhere else I do business. Obviously, you don’t understand that.”
“What I understand is that we have a problem.” He pointed back and forth between me and him. “So, I don’t give a shit if your black ass is having dinner with the fucking queen of England. We need to talk.”
“Well, we’re not talking here, and I don’t give a shit if your redneck, white-sheet-wearing, cross-burning, fat ass likes it or not!” I stated in no uncertain terms. “I don’t think you want me to take this little incident to our mutual friends, do you?”
We stared at each other for a moment, and he finally relented. “Fine. Tonight, the usual place, the usual time. Don’t be late.”
I nodded, and without saying another word, he struggled to get his fat ass up out of the chair until the bodyguard helped him up. He picked up his cup of coffee, finished it, then walked out unceremoniously.
Damn. This was not good.
I took a few minutes to get myself together and figure out my next move before I returned to my office to deal with Johnny. However, when I walked through my office door, I found Sherry alone.
“Where’s Johnny?”
She shrugged skittishly. “He left.”
“What do you mean, he left? I asked you to keep an eye on him. Where’d he go?”
“I took him to the
