Mafioso [Part 3] Page 18

  “You just saw him walk out the door.”

  “Muthafucka, that nigga attacked your brother and he’s still living. I want him dead.”

  Meyer frowned. “You want me to kill him?”

  “Muthafucka, did I hesitate? I want him dead within twenty-four hours.”

  Despite Bugsy’s defiance toward her, he was still her son—her flesh and blood, her oldest. And no one fucked with a West except a West.

  Meyer stood there somberly quiet. The thought of killing his best friend was sickening to him. Luna was the only man he could trust. He was his right-hand man. They’d been through thick and thin together. How was he supposed to eliminate him?

  “I want it done, Meyer. Luna fucked up, so he needs go. Family comes first,” she said. “Today Bugsy, tomorrow he could easily attack you.”

  She was trying to get in his head. Luna always had his back. He wanted to make the robbery tonight look legit—make it look like it came from another crew—Deuce’s crew. But he’d gone too far, and Bugsy was in bad shape—maybe in critical condition.

  Layla readied herself to see her son in the hospital. But first, they needed to conceal the money. It was all put into two massive safes and left inside the secured warehouse. There was no time to count it, and no time to gloat. She needed to see her baby.

  Now that Bugsy was in the hospital—she knew Scott would see that a line had been crossed. It was his favorite son. If word ever got back to Scott that it wasn’t DMC and Meyer was involved, he would most likely come after Meyer and kill him. Layla was sure of it. She had to think of a way to spin it.

  36

  Scott heard the news about his son and went insane. Then, hearing about the millions of dollars that were stolen from him, he became unhinged. He manifested his rage with destruction, breaking things around him and firing his pistol at a few of his men. Luckily, no one was hurt or killed. He screamed. He hollered. Many people would die.

  Choppa called him. He cursed out Choppa.

  “Where the fuck was you?” he roared at him.

  “They came out of nowhere. I was there, Scott!”

  “Don’t leave town. We need to talk,” Scott said before hanging up.

  Scott didn’t want to hear any more news. His primary concern was his son and finding his money. It was another devastating blow to his organization. How did those fuckers find the location? It was a brand new spot, so Deuce finding it so quickly didn’t add up, even if he did have Whistler on his side. Scott wasn’t swallowing that logic easily. It was either Deuce and Whistler, or it was an inside job. Whatever the outcome, the culprits would be soon dealt with.

  Scott’s driver picked up Maxine, and they hurried to the hospital in Long Island. Maxine was worried too. She was there to comfort Scott and be there for Bugsy like he was there for her. She had developed a connection with him.

  Scott and Maxine rushed into the hospital lobby with a small army of thugs behind them for support and protection. The dangerous looking men drew attention and intimidation. Scott looked dazed and unraveled. The sharp element of his style had been dulled by one incident after another. He was so tired of seeing the inside of a hospital. If he lost Bugsy, Scott didn’t know what he would do. He would be beside himself.

  The sliding doors to the lobby opened and in walked Layla and her entourage, including Meyer and Lucky. The tension between the two groups grew thicker than a block of ice. Seeing Maxine in the lobby made Layla furious.

  “I don’t want that bitch in my son’s room,” she said.

  “That’s not your call,” Scott said.

  Before things escalated, security and police officers got involved. They defused the ticking time bomb, but it was only temporary. Scott and Layla had nothing else to say to each other. They behaved as if they’d never met. It was a baffling situation for the doctors and the nurses. Their child was in the hospital severely beaten, yet the two parents were acting like four-year-olds.

  The hallways and the waiting area were crowded with people from both organizations. They congested every area of the lower floor; every seat was taken. Some folks paced back and forth, hoping for the best, but preparing themselves for the worst. If Bugsy were to die, God help everyone.

  Soon, the double doors to an adjacent hallway opened up, and a clean shaven white man in blue scrubs and a stethoscope around his neck came walking their way. His look was expressionless. His eyes were fixed on the many groups of people in the lobby and hallway. All eyes were on him.

  Once Dr. Charles identified the key people he needed to speak with, he pulled them to the side in private—for the family’s ears only. The doctor explained to them that Bugsy was in surgery. He’d sustained serious head trauma. His jaw had been broken, his ribs were fractured in several places, and there was a chance he could lose vision in his right eye. Also, there was swelling in the brain, so he had to be put in a medically induced coma until the swelling went down.

  “Will he live?” Scott asked the doctor.

  “Absolutely,” said the doctor. “But it will be a long road to recovery.”

  Who was more upset, Layla or Scott? Hearing the news from the physician, it fueled both parents with murderous intentions. Each one wanted to blame the other.

  While they were listening to the doctor’s prognosis, Meyer and Lucky gave their father the cold shoulder. They stood close to their mother in a protective manner, and the insect caught in their glaring web of anger was Maxine. They both hated her. She ruined everything. Before she came into the picture, though their family wasn’t picture perfect, everyone somewhat got along and dealt with each other. Maxine was the catalyst of their civil war in their eyes, and everything was falling apart because of her.

  “You do everything you can for my son, doctor,” Layla said seriously.

  “We are,” he responded.

  “I mean, I want the best for him. I don’t care about the cost. You are responsible for his well-being,” Layla continued.

  It was an implied threat to him. The doctor looked at Layla; she was a mother in pain, and he understood her. But this was his hospital.

  “He’s getting the best care from everyone.”

  Meyer pivoted and left his mother’s side. The news about his brother was troubling, but Meyer felt he had other pressing matters to worry about. Meyer knew that if what Luna said was true about Bugsy knowing it was them, then he would tell Scott when he woke up.

  Meyer sighed. He felt himself sinking deeper and deeper into the quicksand of conflict and inevitable bloodshed.

  ***

  The sliding doors to the lobby opened, and Layla walked outside into the cold in her long mink coat and leather knee-high boots. She wiped the tears away from her eyes and lit a cigarette. She needed the nicotine and a break from the dreary hospital. Between seeing Scott and Maxine together and her son in the hospital, if she would have stayed any longer, she felt she would have gone postal on everyone. It took a lot for her not to lash out at Maxine and Scott. In due time, though. She took a few needed drags and walked over to where Meyer was standing alone.

  “Luna’s got to go, Meyer. I want him dead for this,” she said.

  He didn’t respond to her. He simply stood there, aloof, looking away from her.

  “I could have lost another child tonight because of his temper. He dare put hands on our family. He’s not family, Meyer. Your brother is,” she reminded him.

  Layla had no guilt that it was her plan that placed her son in harm’s way. To her, it was all Luna’s fault. He had no right to attack her son. He needed to go, and she placed Meyer in charge of that task.

  “Meyer, do you hear me?”

  “I hear you, Ma,” he replied quietly.

  “You need to show to me that you’re fully loyal to me, not him! I love you and I need you to show me that you love me back. You let me down before with Penelope, choosing that bitc
h over me. This will fully redeem your sins against this family, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

  Layla finished smoking her cigarette and walked away from her son. In so many words she told him not to dare choose another person over her. He either did the murder, or he was out of the organization. And Layla would see to it that his father didn’t take him back in. Not if she told Scott what Luna had done to Bugsy while Meyer stood by.

  Until now, they had the cloak of anonymity because Scott believed it was Deuce attacking his spots. Let them shoot it out and kill each other. For Layla, it would be killing two birds with one stone.

  Meyer felt torn. He had love for Luna. He wanted to give his friend a second chance. He believed Luna when he told him that Bugsy somehow made them. He saw it in Luna’s eyes, and he only did what he needed to do to make it look legit. If they’d fucked up everyone but Bugsy, what would that say? It would seem suspicious. However the beating was excessive. Luna had gone a little too far, maybe.

  Layla preached about family, but she was willing to throw her son into the fire and watch him burn for this unless he made it right.

  37

  Meyer stopped the car in front of the three-story, L-shaped apartment building with the exterior fire escape on the wide boulevard. At two in the morning, the Canarsie area of Brooklyn was peaceful and quiet and thin with activity.

  Meyer took a deep breath and checked the clip to the 9mm he carried. It was loaded. He was caught between a rock and a hard place. Tonight, he had to murder his best friend, his partner in crime—the man who’d had his back every single day. There was no way around it. Layla had given him no choice. Either Luna went, or she would try and ruin his life. He didn’t want to call her bluff. The bitch never bluffed. She was the real thing—borderline crazy.

  He smoked a quick cigarette and lingered inside the car for a moment with the gun on his lap. He became reminiscent of his past with Luna—the good and bad times they shared, the people they murdered, and the bitches they fucked. Meyer felt closer to his friend than his brother. He and Luna could relate on so many things, unlike him and Bugsy.

  But this was the game, right? Niggas came and went, lived or died—it was the life they lived.

  Meyer stepped out of the car, shoved the gun into his waistband, and walked toward the building. Dressed in a black snorkel with the hood pulled over his head, he trekked toward the front entrance, slid inside from the cold, and took the elevator to the fourth floor. He slowly walked down the hallway and reached apartment 4D and knocked. A short moment later, he could hear someone at the door.

  “Nigga, it’s Meyer. Open up.”

  The apartment door swung open, and Luna loomed into view wearing a wifebeater and holding a .380 in his hand. “What’s up? Is everything okay?” Luna asked.

  “Yeah, I just need to talk to you for a minute—some crazy shit.”

  “Yo, come in, nigga.”

  Luna stepped aside and allowed Meyer into the apartment. The door closed. Meyer stood in the spacious living room with the hardwood floors, leather furniture, glass tables, and a huge 70-inch TV. There were posters and framed stills from the infamous Scarface film hanging on his walls. Luna was a huge fan of the movie. He lived a full bachelor’s life and had the ultimate bachelor’s pad, including a king size waterbed in one of his two bedrooms.

  Luna stepped into the room and placed his gun on the table. He seemed relaxed around an old friend.

  Meyer stood, as did Luna. They looked at each other. Meyer’s hard look gave him away.

  “So what’s this crazy shit you need to talk to me about?” Luna asked. “Everything good?”

  Meyer stood silent for a moment. He wasn’t himself, and Luna picked up on it.

  Luna glanced at the revolver on the glass table, far from his reach. Then he said, “I know what this is about. You came here to kill me, right?”

  “You went too far with Bugsy.”

  Meyer removed the 9mm from his waistband and pointed it at Luna.

  Luna didn’t flinch. “I tried to protect you. He was figuring it out—his look and demeanor toward you, there was no way he would believe it was Deuce if I didn’t attack him the way I did.”

  Meyer’s arm remained outstretched. He looked at Luna and was hesitant in pulling the trigger.

  “She wants you dead,” said Meyer.

  “How many times I been there for you—saved your life? And now you’re ready to take mine because your mother is paranoid or angry? She sent us there to rob the place, knowing he would be there. What’d she expect, for it to be easy? Meyer, you need to think about this. It’s me, and I’m the only one that always had your back.”

  It was true—the reason it was making pulling the trigger difficult.

  “How many times they made you second to Bugsy? Your mother, she’s playing you, Meyer. You think if she had to choose between Bugsy or you that she would choose you? I was more family to you than anyone,” Luna proclaimed. “We brothers, nigga!”

  So many emotions were welling up inside of Meyer. He locked eyes with his friend and replied, “I know. . .”

  He then squeezed the trigger and fired.

  38

  It was just before dawn when Meyer showed up at his mother’s place in the city. He felt like he’d lost a brother. He felt defeated. Luna was gone, and it was painful.

  He stood in the center of his mother’s place looking withdrawn and sullen. Murder was nothing to him. He’d done it plenty of times, and the blood of his victims was an eternal stain on his soul. But to kill a friend—a man like Luna—it was the only time he would feel any remorse.

  Layla walked to her mini bar and fixed herself a quick drink—a tall vodka on ice. Wearing a long, beige robe with fur, she seemed to glide toward Meyer. She wanted to hear it come from his mouth. It looked like Meyer had gone through with it, and now he showed regret. There were no tears—better not be—but sadness was inside of him.

  “So, is it done?” she asked.

  “Yeah, it’s done. He’s dead.”

  “You did a good thing, Meyer. I’m proud of you.”

  He felt no pride.

  “Where’s the body?” she asked him.

  “Why you ask?”

  “I’m going to tell Scott you found out that Luna was behind the ambush at his place and Bugsy’s beating. And you killed him for it.”

  She believed it would take the heat off of Meyer once Bugsy woke up and told his version of the story.

  It was suicide, Meyer believed. “You wanna do what?” he said.

  There was no way Scott would believe that Luna would go against the grain. He had always been loyal, and he would never attack Scott and Bugsy unless he were ordered to. Besides, he thought she wanted Scott to believe it was Deuce. Why change up the plan?

  “It doesn’t make sense,” he griped.

  “Let’s get in front of the problem and be proactive, because Bugsy is going to wake up, and when he does, hell is going to break loose.”

  Meyer shook his head. “We don’t know for sure that Bugsy knew it was us! And his brain got fucked up, right? Who knows what he’ll remember?”

  The gates of hell were already open, he believed. But what was his mother suddenly so concerned about? She hated Scott and she wanted to see the man broken. This was war, right? Not Let’s Make a Deal.

  “My son is strong. He’s a West. He’ll remember everything.”

  Meyer thought for a beat. “How much did we score from this lick?”

  “Just over seventeen million. Your father won’t let this shit go so Luna is the sacrificial lamb, Meyer. Get that shit through your fuckin’ head.”

  Meyer continued, “If you’re suddenly so afraid of his wrath, then give him the money back.”

  Layla slapped her son hard in the face.

  “I’m not giving shit back, and I’m not afr
aid of anyone,” she retorted. “And why the fuck you keep telling me to give Scott back my fuckin’ money? This is the second time you’ve said that shit. First the fifty million, and now this. Are you fuckin’ retarded, Meyer? All I’ve done to build up this empire and my husband didn’t leave me a crumb. Not ten fuckin’ dollars to buy a box of tampons.”

  “What about us? Me and Lucky? We deserve some of that money too! You and Pop ain’t build this shit alone.”

  “Boy, bye with that bullshit.” Layla rolled her eyes dismissively and continued with, “I have a plan. And I need Luna’s body. Where is it?”

  “In the river,” he lied.

  Her face tightened with distress. “In the river?”

  “I had Luna meet me by the docks and dumped his body in the water.”

  “You fuckin’ idiot!” she cursed.

  “You wanted him dead, right?”

  “I wanted him dead and the body displayed—not made missing. How stupid are you? What’s the point of killing Luna if not to show Scott the body?”

  Meyer frowned. “You said kill him, and I did! How the fuck I know what your secret plan was? I’m no mind reader.”

  “You’re not a fuckin’ child, Meyer. You’re a grown man, and you need to think.” Layla tapped her forehead repeatedly to make her point. “I can’t always hold your hand. I swear, if this were Bugsy, he would understand what I meant without me having to draw him a damn map, like you.”

  Her sharp comment stung Meyer like a horde of killer bees. Like his father, she was comparing him to Bugsy. She was belittling him. Everyone respected Meyer on the streets, but he couldn’t get respect from his own parents.

  “Don’t go there wit’ me!” he shouted.

  “Shut up. I need to fix this.”

  “I do everything for you!” he shouted.

  “Clearly not correctly,” she rebuked.

  “If we tell Pop it was Luna, he won’t believe it anyway.”

  Meyer knew Scott wouldn’t fall for any bullshit like that. He would believe they were involved. In his eyes, his mother was playing with fire. She was delusional. One minute she was the big bad wolf, and the next, she was worried about Scott and the consequences. Since when did she care about consequences? Layla did whatever she wanted when she wanted.