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  Scott desperately wanted to get in touch with Mason. Mason was someone he could trust to visit him and carry out the order to murder Maxine. He and Mason went back to Scott’s earlier days, when he sold crack on the Brooklyn corners at thirteen years old. Mason was Whistler, before Whistler and Scott became best friends.

  He was conflicted about whether to give the order to go after Bugsy, his firstborn. He was tempted to. His son needed to learn a harsh lesson about biting the hand that feeds him.

  All that rage Scott felt was swirling inside of him like a tornado. He pivoted and slammed his fist against the cement wall. He needed to release his frustration. He needed to show to everyone that he wasn’t weak inside the jail. He still had a couple of moves up his sleeve. Bugsy made his move, and Scott was making his. Bugsy didn’t know everything and everyone. Scott had others who could link him with Mason and then Meyer. While he sat on his cot and the corrections officers patrolled the area, some aware of his actions and the cell phone, he made the call that would help his maneuver against his son.

  Walker was a dirty cop that only Scott knew about. The man was in his mid-forties with enough time on the force to remember when Scott was a young punk selling crack in Brooklyn during his adolescent years. The beat cop back then was now a corrupt captain over a Brooklyn precinct. Both men had watched each other grow significantly in their lines of work. And for the right price, Walker was always Scott’s man. They formed somewhat of a friendship, and Scott kept Walker in his back pocket with greed and power. It was Scott who fed Walker numerous tips of rising drug dealers in the neighborhood to raid and bust and aided him with unsolved murders to help boost the cop’s career. It was Scott who helped Walker hide his finances overseas and allied him to legitimate investments that the IRS or IA couldn’t trace back to him.

  Scott called the captain’s secured line and immediately enticed him with cash for a favor.

  “How can you help me when you’re behind bars?” Walker asked.

  “You doubt me?” Scott said.

  “I never do, but your predicament puts me in danger. I shouldn’t even be talking to you right now,” he said.

  “But you are, and you know I’m a man of my word.”

  “What is it that you need from me?” Walker asked hurriedly.

  “I just need for you to help me get in contact with two people, one of them being my son in the hospital.”

  “I heard about him. I’m sorry.”

  “There’s nothing to be sorry about. I just need a cell phone to his ear.”

  “And who’s the other?”

  “Mason.”

  “That fuckin’ lunatic? He has two open murders in my precinct alone that they can’t nail him on.”

  “I just need a word with him.”

  “This better not come back to haunt me,” Walker warned.

  “Has it ever? I kept you a secret from everyone because I know you’re smart like me and we both have a lot to lose.”

  “Me more than you. And is this line secure?”

  “It is,” Scott said.

  Walker exhaled noisily. “I’ll have someone at the hospital tomorrow. Remember this cell phone number and then forget it when you use it.”

  “I will.”

  “Don’t fuck me on this,” said Walker.

  “I won’t.”

  Scott committed the number Walker gave him to memory. The phone would be given to Meyer. It was going to be a lot trickier to track Mason down. The man was a nomad, but Scott believed the captain would be able to find him.

  ***

  The next afternoon, Scott called the cell phone number and Meyer answered. Hearing his son’s voice, he felt overwhelmed with emotions. It was good to hear Meyer alive and doing well so far.

  “Hey, son,” said Scott nicely.

  “Wh-what is that you want?” Meyer replied not-so-nicely.

  “I want to talk. Are you strong enough to come visit me soon?”

  “No. I’m still fucked up. I still have weeks of rehab left,” he said.

  Scott was disappointed by the news. “I need you, Meyer. I know we haven’t been on good terms lately, but I’m willing to let bygones be bygones and move on to the future.”

  Meyer was listening, but he wasn’t feeling anything his father had to say. “Future, huh?”

  “Yes. And have you heard anything from Bugsy lately?”

  “No, why you asking about him?”

  “Listen, things are happening and pieces are moving around, and your brother and I aren’t seeing eye-to-eye anymore.”

  “And that’s my problem?”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Look, you and I went our separate ways a long time ago, and whatever beef you got wit’ Bugsy now, that ain’t my business, Pop. And the next time you call me, call to see how the fuck I’m doin’, not for what I can fuckin’ do for you! So fuck you!”

  The phone went dead. Scott frowned. His son was still holding a grudge against him. He sighed deeply.

  Now he needed to get in contact with Mason. He knew Mason would do anything he asked. He had to play chess skillfully while contained in his jail cell. He was going to show Bugsy to never count a man truly down and out—to think he was drowning. No matter how deep his head was under the water, there was always a way to come up for air.

  ***

  Meyer tossed the phone across the room. The nerve of his father calling him to ask for a favor and question him about Bugsy. Scott and Bugsy had a falling out and were clashing, and he was totally uninterested. All his life, Scott put Bugsy first and on a pedestal. If their honeymoon was over, he didn’t give a fuck. Now his father wanted to run back to him and use him again. Meyer was in no condition to entertain anything his father had to say. He had been in the hospital for months, and his father didn’t call him once to check on him. But today, he had a stranger come into his room to hand him a cell phone so he could talk to him. It went to show that Scott had reach and how selfish the nigga still was. He wanted to speak about Bugsy and ask questions, when Meyer had almost died.

  Meyer had love for his family, especially his brother. Bugsy was his twin and he would do for him long before he did anything for Scott. Bugsy never missed a visit. He was there when he awakened from his coma. He was always at the hospital coaxing him to get better and make a full recovery. Bugsy never mentioned that he and Scott were at odds, and he wasn’t going to bring it up. Meyer wasn’t going to push him. His recovery was his number-one priority.

  39

  Scott walked into the private room at the jail and sat across from his well-dressed and high-priced lawyer, Arnold Meade. The lawyer looked like a million bucks while Scott looked like he was living on a slave plantation. The first things he noticed about Arnold was the diamond Rolex around his wrist and his tailored three-thousand-dollar suit. He had a Miami tan and slicked back hair and resembled Gordon Gekko from the Wall Street movie.

  It made Scott envious. He missed the lavish life. He missed it all. He wanted to get back to his way of life, but they kept him caged like an animal—no bail, no bond, and his only way out was his looming court date. He needed to be acquitted of all charges—by any means necessary.

  Arnold Meade’s was one phone number Bugsy couldn’t change. And Scott was ready to thrust his list of commands at him.

  “Listen, I’m changing things around, and I don’t want you to trust Bugsy,” Scott said.

  Arnold was taken aback. “But he’s your son.”

  “I don’t give a fuck who he is. I’m making moves and he’s hindering me right now,” Scott said.

  Arnold didn’t understand what was going on, but it wasn’t his business to know at the moment. “Duly noted,” he responded coolly.

  “Also, I need for you to reach out to my top enforcer, Mason. You remember him?”

  Arnold nodded. “I got him a
cquitted of a few charges over the years. He’s a hard man to forget.”

  “I need for him to come visit me, right away. And I want you to keep tabs on Bugsy for me. I need to know his every move.”

  “But your trial date is approaching and my office needs to be preparing for your case. Depositions need to be worked on—”

  “And that will be done, but I need this done right now,” Scott commanded.

  “Listen, I’m never in your business unless you need me to be, but this thing with Bugsy, I don’t understand it. You trust him with everything. What changed?”

  “Everything changed with him since he’s been fucking my fiancée, or shall I say ex-fiancée.”

  Arnold had no response.

  “And she’s pregnant by him,” he added.

  Scott continued to pour out everything to him, and Arnold Meade listened intently. Arnold knew where all the bodies were buried. He had been under Scott’s employ for decades, and he was an OG himself. He’d successfully defended members of the Gambino and Lucchese crime families. He was a tough talking New Yorker with a dogmatic persona and a no-nonsense reputation in the courtrooms and on the streets.

  After hearing the story, Arnold sympathized with Scott, saying, “I’m sorry for everything.”

  Scott imploded. “I don’t need your fuckin’ sympathy; I need your fuckin’ help! I want revenge.”

  Arnold sat there straight-faced from his client’s reaction. He leaned forward in his chair, elbows against the table, hands clasped. He never took his eyes off of Scott.

  “Look, Scott, I have to be honest with you. I can’t help you with your demands,” he said.

  “What the fuck you mean, you can’t help me?”

  “Bugsy already came to me. We spoke.”

  “What?” Scott twisted up his face in anger and bewilderment.

  “His instructions were simple—whatever you ask, not to comply.”

  “Are you out your fuckin’ mind?! You’re my fuckin’ lawyer, not his!”

  “I know, but he’s the one who’s paying for my services. At the moment, he’s signing the checks, not you. So I have to accommodate his wishes.”

  What the fuck was going on? Scott wanted to leap across the table and strangle the life out of his attorney. “It’s my fuckin’ money that he’s paying you with, you dumb fuck! I’m the fuckin’ boss of this organization, not him!”

  Arnold didn’t jump or fold in fear from his reaction. He wasn’t intimidated by Scott like many other lawyers would have been. “For legal reasons, I don’t wanna know where the money’s coming from. My only ethical duty is to successfully defend you in the courtroom, which I will do. I have a strong legal team presiding over your case as we speak. But for now, my orders come from Bugsy.”

  Scott scowled. “Arnold, I won’t fuckin’ forget this.”

  Arnold reached for his leather briefcase, stood up, smiled at Scott, and calmly replied with, “You’ll thank me in court.”

  He exited the private room, leaving Scott in complete awe. Scott couldn’t believe that he was being beaten by his own son. Bugsy was holding all the cards, but Scott felt he had one last ace up his sleeve, and that was Lucky.

  40

  Her muscles started to tighten, and her body shivered against the bed. “Oh shit . . . oh shit . . . don’t stop, lick me right there, nigga! Right there—don’t stop! I’m gonna come! Don’t fuckin’ stop!” Lucky cooed and moaned as she was on her way to an orgasm.

  Lucky’s nails clawed the back of the man’s head as he ate her out. Her body needed it. Lucky was in her second trimester and she’d never been so horny. All of her hormones were surging through her at once and increasing her sex drive. It felt like her entire body was on fire with passion. The lucky man tonight was a young soldier in her organization who she found very attractive. His name was Packer and he was six-one with a chiseled physique and a gift for performing oral sex.

  “I’m gonna fuckin’ come!” she screamed out.

  Her body quivered as he ate and ate. She closed her eyes, clutched the bed sheets, and held on for the ride of her life. Her legs straddled his upper physique and then the sudden sensation broke away from her like flood gates collapsing, and Packer didn’t budge as she came in his mouth. He lapped up her juices like a treat and wiped his mouth. She was spent.

  “You good?” he said.

  “Oh, I’m good . . . very good,” she said, smiling.

  He smiled and removed himself from the submissive position. He was eye candy from head to toe, and that wasn’t all. He was a cold-blooded killer and completely loyal to Lucky.

  “I liked that,” he said.

  “I liked it too.”

  It took a moment for Lucky to prop herself up and collect herself. Her stomach was starting to protrude more and her body was going through extreme changes. She could feel her baby moving around inside of her. It was a bizarre feeling, but it was a wonderful feeling. Packer put his shirt back on and Lucky dismissed him from the room. She had her pleasures for the evening. It was time to get back to business.

  The moment Packer walked out the room, her cell phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number, but she answered it anyway.

  “Hey, baby girl,” she heard him say sweetly.

  Lucky stood there in awe for a moment. Hearing her father’s voice wasn’t what she expected. It had been a long time.

  “How are things going with you?” he said, speaking nicely.

  “What the fuck do you want?”

  “I want to talk.”

  “How did you get my number?”

  “I still got my ways, you know that. Don’t forget who I am,” he said.

  “Believe me, I want to,” she replied.

  “I’m hearing good things about you. You’re coming up.”

  “Not because of you,” she said.

  Since the hospital, her attitude had changed. She was glad that he was alive, but their relationship ended a long time ago. She had never gone to visit him while he was locked up, and she was still salty about the abuse from him. Her tears had dried up, and life went on.

  “I never apologized to you about that. I’m sorry. I should have never put my hands on you. I hate myself every single day for it. I was wrong.”

  She didn’t respond to his apology.

  “Can you come visit me?” he asked her.

  “I’m busy.”

  “I missed you. You’re the only daughter I have left. I need to see you.”

  “For what?”

  “So we can sit down and talk.”

  “What is there to talk about? What is it that you want from me?”

  “You’re all I have left. Meyer and Bugsy turned their backs on me.”

  “You’re being dramatic. Bugsy idolizes you,” she returned.

  He resented the implication. But she didn’t know.

  “This is important. It has to do with Maxine,” he uttered.

  Suddenly, he had her attention. But she wondered why he wasn’t reaching out to Bugsy. She figured he already had and didn’t get the result that he wanted. Therefore, she was the next best thing. The old Lucky would have jumped at the chance to go see him to get the gossip. What had Maxine done? The old Lucky would have wanted to be there for her dad—she was a daddy’s girl, and a part of her missed that relationship, but she wasn’t her old self and things done changed. She wasn’t about to become anyone’s pawn—not her mother’s nor her father’s.

  “I just want to see you, baby girl. I want to see your face, and your smile, like at the hospital.”

  “I only came because I was worried about you. You’re still my father. But that was a onetime thing. You’ve recovered from your injuries.”

  “But I still have a broken heart with you,” he countered.

  She sighed. That daddy’s-little-girl feeling was de
ep and dormant inside her, but it wasn’t coming out anytime soon.

  “I need to talk to you. I need to see you,” he repeated.

  She’d never heard him sound so broken and depressed. Her father always represented strength and vigor. Hearing him almost beg her to visit was somewhat pleasing to her ears.

  “I’ll come see you,” she said reluctantly.

  “This Friday?”

  “Sure.”

  “I love you, Lucky, and I can’t wait to see you again.”

  Their call ended, and Lucky shook her head in disgust. She felt her father was a hypocrite. Where was the love when he was beating her ass? Where was the love when he chose Maxine over her and Layla? He’d treated her like she was nothing and placed Maxine on this pedestal and turned his back on his family a long time ago.

  Fuck him!

  41

  Step after step, without stumbling or falling to the ground, Meyer wanted to show off for his brother, Bugsy. He was walking without crutches or help from the medical staff. Months and months of physical therapy were finally paying off.

  “You see that, nigga? I’ll be back to my old self real soon.”

  Bugsy grinned. “Yeah, that’s good.”

  Meyer was also eating regularly and gaining his weight back. He looked forward to visits from Bugsy. It’s what encouraged him to progress in his rehabilitation. He wanted to matter again in the streets. He wanted to be respected and feared again. Every day in that hospital bed, he felt helpless and vulnerable, and it tore him apart.

  “I’m gonna be better, watch and see,” said Meyer excitedly.

  Bugsy nodded, agreeing with his twin brother. He sat in the chair and watched Meyer walk slowly across the hospital room. He had a lot on his mind. He knew things were going to get ugly before they got better. Going against Scott was a power move, but it was a move he felt needed to be made. It was time for him to step up and release himself from the strings of his father. Lucky had done it and she was thriving. He couldn’t allow his sister to outshine him. It was his turn to become independent.