“Thirty grand a piece, minus the two grand we gotta give Li’l Al for driving.” I gave him a thumbs up. “I ain’t complaining.”
“It’s more money than I ever had, and I’ve been stealing shit since I was thirteen.” He drove out of the parking lot.
“So, what you gonna do with your cut?” I asked him.
“Man, I gotta get me a new whip first and foremost. Probably give my baby mama a couple dollars to shut her the fuck up.” Denny laughed. “What about you?”
“Pay my momma’s rent up for the rest of the year,” I said proudly. “Then I think I’m gonna take ol’ girl Kandace down to Miami and wax that ass for a couple of days.”
“Man, you still fucking with that chick?” Denny looked across at me like I’d lost my mind. “It’s a million other bitches out there, and you gotta mess with her? Shit, you crazy as hell.”
“Bro, there’s just something about her that I can’t get enough of,” I admitted.
“It’s that good-ass pussy and that phat ass of hers you can’t get enough of.” He laughed.
“True, she does have a phat ass,” I replied, laughing along with him.
“Just don’t let that phat ass get you put in a pine box,” Denny said, suddenly getting serious. “’Cause ain’t no pussy worth dying over.”
LC
5
“We’re almost there, Pop,” I heard Junior say.
I nodded, staring out the window as we exited I-95 not far from the tunnel in Baltimore. With my son Orlando, the Duncan Motors CEO, somewhere in the Caribbean trying to work out his relationship with his son’s mother, I had decided to take Junior to my meeting instead of Vegas, who usually handled this type of thing. Truth was, Junior was the least inquisitive of my sons, and right now I didn’t need a lot of questions. I needed someone to watch my back, and that was Junior’s specialty.
Ten minutes later, we drove down a dark road and past several abandoned warehouses. At the end of the road, we parked by the water next to a black Ford pickup truck. I could already see the irritated look on Junior’s face when he spotted the Make America Great Again license plate as he exited the car. He stayed on task, though, surveying the area for unexpected guests.
A minute or so later, Junior gave me the signal, and I stepped out of the car, walking up to the truck with him at my side. We were greeted by KD Shrugs, the fat redneck from the conference room, and his refrigerator-sized bodyguard. To look at the two of them, I could see why Sherry and Johnny were intimidated. KD had all the markings of a gun-toting redneck, complete with Confederate flag and KKK identification. But that shit didn’t scare me.
“Just like old times. Right, LC? Except now they got casinos on the other side of the water.” He gazed across the bay at the casino lights, gesturing for me to walk with him. Junior and his bodyguard followed, but far enough away that they couldn’t hear our conversation.
“Where does the time go? Remember when me, you, Sal and Tony Dash, plus your brothers Lou and Larry used to meet here?” He chuckled. “Those was the good old days.”
“For you maybe. But then again, you and your good ol’ boys were calling the shots back then, weren’t you?”
“Somebody had to keep you and your goombah buddies in line. We couldn’t have you running around unchecked, spreading that crap in the wrong neighborhoods. That shit was getting out of hand. Besides, with me no longer a civil servant and you with all your high-falutin’ connections, you’re the one on top now.” He glared at me with disdain, and I glared right back, wishing his fat country ass would have a heart attack and die. The only problem was that we’d had a codependent relationship for so many years. We both needed each other—or at least we used to. But I’d made a few calls before I arrived, so that might not be the case anymore.
“But just remember, what goes up must come crashing fucking down eventually,” he warned.
I grinned. “So I’ve heard, but you would know that better than me. You’re the one who spent all those years in prison.”
Frustration took over his face. “For your information, I only spent two years in prison, and if I remember correctly, you, Sal, and the rest of your criminal buddies were waiting for me at this very spot with bags of cash when I got out. Do you remember that?”
“Like it was yesterday, Sheriff,” I replied, taking a step closer. I’d called him Sherriff to aggravate him, because KD used to be not only the president of the National Sheriffs Association, but also sheriff of El Paso, Texas, a job he’d held for almost twenty years. Shakedowns, bribery, and the largest protection racket this country had ever seen had made him one of the wealthiest law enforcement officers in the country, if not the world. “I also remember that we were the only ones here when you got out. Where the fuck were your good ol’ boys?”
He just stood there in silence because we both knew they’d abandoned him, and from that day forward, he was one of us. A fucking criminal.
“Kiss my ass, LC.”
“I don’t have time for this, KD. Why the hell am I here?” I asked.
“We had a problem, but I’ve already taken care of it. No thanks to you,” he replied. I think my little history lesson had snapped him back to reality.
“Good. Now, in the future, if you want to talk, there are protocols for that. I suggest you use them.”
I was about to walk back to the car when he said, “Fuck you! And fuck your protocols, you uppity black son of a bitch! I should be able to talk to you any damn time I please.”
“KD, these protocols were put in place to protect my anonymity.”
“That’s kind of interesting
