LC
1
The room had fell silent as my wife Chippy rose from the chair next to mine. You didn't hear much from her at these board meetings lately, except to occasionally chastise the twins Rio or Paris for speaking out of turn. She'd been under the weather for the better part of a year now. Her passion lately seemed to be more with the wellbeing of our children and grandchildren and less and less with the day to day running of our family business. However, her objection to Orlando's new drug rang loud and clear. She might as well have run up behind me and pulled my pants down to my ankles because I didn't see it coming at all. I can count on one hand the number of times Chippy had spoken out against me in front of our children without warning when it came to business. We always seemed to be on the same page but from her tone we were far from being on the same page today.
“Are you serious?” Orlando asked in disbelief. If you think I was caught off guard you should have seen the look on his face. He looked like someone had hit him in the back of the head with a sledgehammer and just realized that the someone was his very own mother.
“Yes, Orlando very serious. I know this is important to you and I'm sorry, but I just can't get behind this,” Chippy replied. Both her demeanor and body language challenged our sons authority.
“But, Ma, why?” Orlando whined irately.
“Because it's not safe. We've operated below the police and the Feds radar for almost thirty years. Something like this is going to bring them to our front door. You mark my words . . .”
“Chippy,” I interrupted, “let me worry about the cops. I can take care of it . . .”
“I'm talking to my son,” she snapped. She raised her hand dismissing me and the look on her face made me take a step back. It was something I did not like and would address on the ride home “Nothing you can say is going to change my mind on this, L.C. Your greedy and selfishness almost got Rio killed last year. I'm not about to let you put my other children in that position too. I don't give a damn how much money is involved.” Yes, we would be addressing all of this later, of that I had no doubt. I just hoped I was the one in control of the conversation.
“But, Ma, this isn't just about money. It's an opportunity of a lifetime,” Orlando tried not to sound like he was pleading with his mother but there was no doubt about the desperation in his voice. “H.E.A.T. will set up the Duncan family for the next five generations. Besides, it's no different than what we already do, except we won't have to kiss anybody's ass for product anymore. They'll be kissing ours.”
“Are you that naïve? 'Cause from where I'm sitting your opportunity opens us up to a whole lot more exposure. Not only from the authorities but from everyone else too. Do you really think the Italians or the Jews or the other black families for that matter are going to kiss your black ass? 'Cause I can assure you they won't. What they will do is fight to take what you made. I, for one, don't think we're ready for that.”
I wasn't one to feel sorry for anyone but I felt sorry for my son. His mother had been his biggest supporter when we made the decision to make him the new head of the family business. Now it looked like she was turning on him.
“You're not sure we're ready for that or I'm ready for that, Ma? Which one is it?” Orlando confronted his mother. “If Vegas was sitting in this chair would you be objecting to this?”
“If Vegas were here we wouldn't be having this conversation. The plan always was for him to take over that side of our operation and for you to run the legitimate side. I never wanted this for you.” She might have well had ripped out the boys heart, right in front of us. Because we all knew what she was saying without her saying. I just didn't know she felt so strongly about it until today. I'm pretty sure the rest of the family didn't either.
“Charlotte,” I said using her government name to loosen the tension. “There's nothing to worry about. Orlando's perfectly capable of handling things. Besides, I'll be here to help him. So will Harris and Junior.”
She glanced at my son-in-law and my oldest son then shook her head back and forth. “Is that supposed to comfort me? Do you have any idea what you're having my son locked away for that shit you did has done to my family?” I was trying to collect my thoughts so I could talk some reason into her but she had just hit below the belt.
“Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh,” London squealed. All attention turned to my oldest daughter who was holding her round belly looking up at her husband. “Harris, I think you better go get the car because it's time.”
I glanced over at Chippy who within a matter of seconds was at London's side. Her face was now riddled with motherly concern. While the uncompromising demeanor she had towards Orlando and myself was completely gone. Orlando on the other hand was still standing at the head of the table with the same look of disbelief that he'd worn when his mother first made her objection.
Sasha
2
I'd been circling the block for the better part of ten minutes before a parking space opened up in front of Rocky's BBQ. I slid on my shades and checked my pink shoulder length wig in the rearview mirror before refreshing my pink lipstick. I looked pretty damn fierce if I do say so myself, so I step out the car surveying the street. It was late, almost ten minutes to ten, so most the people in neighborhood were either in their homes or on their way home. I headed towards the neon lit restaurant.
The sign above the door read,
Rocky's Home of Chi-town's Best Ribs
. They didn't have to spell it out for me. I hadn't had anything to eat since breakfast, so it didn't matter to me if they were the worst ribs in Chicago I planned on having some with cornbread and collard greens.
Surprisingly, for a place that boosted having the best ribs in town, the place was damn nearly empty when I walked in. It was a good thing because I hated crowds. Aside from the Robocop looking dude behind the counter and the Puerto Rican cook, there were three loud mouth guys in the back half of the place along with an old man in the corner eating some BBQ chicken like it was going out of style. There was no doubt I was gonna have some of that.
I leaned on the counter giving the simple menu the once over.
“What you having?” The guy behind the counter asked. He was at least 6'4 two hundred and seventy-five pounds with a weight-lifters body. He gave me a look like he'd been doing this shit way too long and didn't have no patience for any BS. He really did look like Robocop.
“Let me have some of that chicken he's eating, and a rack of ribs with a side of collard greens and cornbread to go.” I offer a half smile, which immediately softened his demeanor like I had passed some test or something. His eyes never left my body thanks to my snug hot pink low cut running top, black tights, and hot pink sneakers, which showed off my flawless C-cups, phat round booty and athletic legs, perfectly. If I wanted him, he could be mine in a matter of minutes.
“You want mac and cheese or a drink with that?” he asked jotting down my order.
“No. I'm good. I got water in the car.” My response is more flirtatious than before. “Are your ribs as good as Carson's? I been to Carson's and their ribs are finger licking good.”
“Fuck Carson's! Our ribs are the best in Chicago.” He laughed handing the cook my order.
“Where's your restroom?” I smiled up at him, which isn't that much of a stretch since I'm 5'10” in my bare feet. He pointed to a door in the back. I gave him another flirtatious smile then strutted past the old man who was eating his chicken. When I got close to the table with three men, all conversation ceased as I walked by, that is until they saw my butt.
“Look at the ass on her,” I heard one of them say under his breath.”
“You a ribs kinda girl?” one of them said, in more of a Brooklyn accent than Chicagoan. He was not speaking under his breath. I stopped and turned making sure I gave him the best view. He was the cutest of the three and probably the best dressed although they are all wearing suits. “You don't look like a ribs kinda girl.”
His buddies who were now standing behind me never took their gaze off my hips; I could practically feel their eyes touching my ass. Not that it was a problem because a girls gotta be honest with herself: you don't wear an outfit like this if you don't expect to attract attention.
“Oh yeah, what kind of girl do I look like,” I flirted shamelessly.
He stared me in the eyes, confidently. “You look like the kind of woman who would enjoy champagne and caviar, dinner on the French Rivera, oh and most importantly, making love on yacht in the middle of the Caribbean.”
My smile broadened. He really was talking my language.
I leaned over placing both hands on the table he was sitting at to show him more cleavage. I wasn't into white boys but this one actually showed promise. “And you can make that happen?”
“Sweetheart, I can make that happen and more.” He extended his hand with a smile. “My names Mike Nugent.”
“My names Sasha,” I replied taking his hand with a giddy smile.
“Forget the ribs, Sasha,” he said smoothly, “let me take you to a real restaurant, someplace with atmosphere and a five star menu.”
“You know what, Mike, I like the way you talk,” I smiled pointing at the restroom door. “Now hold that thought, I'll be right back, okay.”
I gave him a wink and he sat back in his chair like he owned the joint. “I'll be waiting,” he said confidently.
I swing my hips like a supermodel on the runway as I make my way to the restroom. I can hear them talking as I pull my pants down to relieve myself.
“Holy shit, Mikie, she's fuckin' beautiful. She looks like that rapper chick, Nikki Manaj. Jezzze, I'd pay to fuck a broad like her.”
“Well, Pauli to bad you're not me cause I'm gonna fuck the shit outta her for free,” Mikie replied.
I smile at the thought. In his mind he'd already had me in bed, probably already saw me on my knees sucking his dick in preparation for me taking it from behind. It wasn't the worst thing anyone had ever thought when it came to me but I had other ideas for Mr. Mikie Nugent because nothing was ever free.
After washing my hands I placed my bag on the sink securing what I need at the top before throwing it back over my shoulder. I made one last quick check in the bathroom mirror before opening the door, a girl had to look good when she made her grand entrance.
Mike smiled watching my hips as I walked out the bathroom door. His boys were just standing there gawking at my breast then my ass as I pass.
“So what's it gonna be doll, Italian, Greek, seafood, you name it?” he asked with even more confidence.
“Sorry to say this, but I'm thinking about just taking the ribs I ordered home,” I said sincerely reaching in my purse, “I would ask for a rain check, but you're going to be dead in the next five seconds.” He gave me the most puzzled look as I raised a silenced pistol from my bag towards his head. They were all so damn busy looking at my tits and ass they didn't pay any attention to my hands.
“Oh shit, Pauli, it's a hit!” Mikie yelled.
I smiled pulling the trigger, a second later a bullet was lodged between Mikie's eyes and he fell back in his chair. I'm sure he was dead before he hit the ground. Instinctively I spun taking both his boys out with two shots a piece as they reached in there suit jackets for weapons.
It was over except for the old man, the cook and Robocop at the counter. The old man immediately raised his hands the second I looked in his direction. I gestured for him to get on the floor and he did what he was told. He was no threat so I began to walk toward the front door and the exit. The cook wasn't stupid either he dropped to the floor the second he saw me coming guns a-blazing, which made him no threat. But I could tell from his body language, that Robocop was going to be a problem, he was going to be a big fucking problem. It was never more evident than when he jumped over the counter holding a sawed off shot gun.
“You bitch, those guys owed me ten grand from the Bears game. Now whose gonna pay me my money?” he asked irately.
Normally I would have just put two in his grill and walked the fuck out but I'd done what I was supposed to do. Things had worked out way better than I could have expected, because originally I was just expecting Mike to be at Rocky's, I never expected his partners Peter Mann and Leo Garza to be around too. My contract was complete, there was no need for anyone else to die, that is unless Robocop wanted to push the issue.
“Trust me mister, they would have never paid you. Why do you think I'm here? They owe my employer over 500 grand.”
“I don't give a damn how much they owed other people. They were going to fucking pay me,” he swore.
“Oh yeah, when? How come they haven't paid you yet? The game was Monday night; it's Thursday now. Mister they weren't going to pay. I doubt they have a thousand bucks between them. They're a bunch of coked out losers. Or at least they use to be.”
“Well, bitch then you're going to pay me.” He took a step towards me.
“Mister, I don't like being called a bitch. Matter a fact, I've killed people for less. Now drop the fucking shot gun so I can get by.”
“I want my money!” he took a step closer. Well, at least this time he dropped the bitch out of it.
“Look, I don't have a lot of time. Either you drop the gun or I make you drop it. ”
“Who the fuck you think you are Annie Oakley?” he sounded angry, but he looked more confused and actually took another step closer.
“Hell no. Annie Oakley ain't even in my fucking league.” I pulled the trigger to my gun shooting his hand. He dropped the shot gun screaming in pain.
“You shot me! You fucking bitch. You fucking shot me!”
“What did you just call me? Didn't I tell you not call me a bitch?” A swift kick to his groin dropped him to the floor. “You ungrateful bastard you could be dead right now. I coulda killed you instead of shooting your hand. Now stay down or be dead!” He looked up at me gripping his injured hand then let his body merge into the floor.
I was just about to walk out when I spotted a bag on the counter. “Hey, is that my order?” When I didn't get an answer I repeated myself placing a little more bass in my voice. “Are those my ribs?”
“Yeah,” the cook said from the floor behind the counter. “Those are your ribs.”
“Great, how much do I owe you for them?”
“They're on the house,” the cook replied.
I glanced over at Robocop, “Is that cool with you?”
“Yeah, just get the fuck outta here.”
“Wow, thanks,” I snatch up my order and head out onto the sidewalk, stashing my gun back in my bag as I made a quick rush for my car.
Five minutes later I was in a parking garage switching vehicles and removing the tacky sunglasses, and the wig. I'd just finished changing in the backseat when my cell phone rang.
“Yes,” I said into the phone.
“I have been told the job has been completed.” a deep eastern Indian accented voice asked.
“It has,” I replied.
“Then I will arrange for the second half of your payment to be delivered in the normal fashion, along with the first half of your next assignment.”
“Next assignment? I was hoping to get a little R&R, maybe a week or two off for vacation. I've been at this for six straight months.”
“I am sorry, Ms. Sasha, but that is not possible. Your next assignment is very important to our employer. It must be completed as soon as possible.”
“I hear you. Look, just let them know that a sister needs a little time off for herself.”
“I will convey your message and make arrangements for your flight in the morning. Good night.”
“Yeah, you too.” I hung up the phone and finished getting dressed. Well, at least with my flight leaving in the morning there was the possibility of hooking up tonight and getting laid.