Grand Opening 2

  Grand Opening 2:

  A Family Business Novel

  Carl Weber

  with

  La Jill Hunt

  www.urbanbooks.net

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Prologue - 1978

  LC - 1

  Larry - 2

  Bettie - 3

  Lou - 4

  LC - 5

  Lou - 6

  Chippy - 7

  LC - 8

  Donna - 9

  Nee Nee - 10

  LC - 11

  Donna - 12

  Nee Nee - 13

  LC - 14

  Lou - 15

  Nee Nee - 16

  Donna - 17

  Bettie - 18

  Lou - 19

  Nee Nee - 20

  Bettie - 21

  Shirley - 22

  LC - 23

  Chippy - 24

  Lou - 25

  Shirley - 26

  Bettie - 27

  Donna - 28

  Shirley - 29

  Bettie - 30

  LC - 31

  Lou - 32

  Shirley - 33

  Bettie - 34

  Chippy - 35

  Nee Nee - 36

  Lou - 37

  Bettie - 38

  Big Shirley - 39

  LC - 40

  Donna - 41

  LC - 42

  Chippy - 43

  Big Shirley - 44

  LC - 45

  Shirley - 46

  Donna - 47

  Larry - 48

  Big Shirley - 49

  Bettie - 50

  LC - 51

  Bettie - 52

  LC - 53

  Chippy - 54

  Urban Books, LLC

  300 Farmingdale Road, NY-Route 109

  Farmingdale, NY 11735

  Grand Opening 2: A Family Business Novel

  Copyright © 2017 Carl Weber

  Copyright © 2017 La Jill Hunt

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, except brief quotes used in reviews.

  ISBN: 978-1-6228-6604-5

  This is a work of fiction. Any references or similarities to actual events, real people, living or dead, or to real locales are intended to give the novel a sense of reality. Any similarity in other names, characters, places, and incidents is entirely coincidental.

  Distributed by Kensington Publishing Corp.

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  Prologue

  1978

  It was almost three in the afternoon when the dusty Greyhound bus turned the corner into the Waycross, Georgia bus terminal. As it pulled into a spot, four impeccably dressed Negro men stepped out of a brand new baby blue Fleetwood Cadillac. Their imposing presence was noticed by all, and they were given a wide berth until they stopped six or seven feet in front of the bus. The men waited patiently for the bus doors to open as a mixed-race crowd filled in behind them, for the most part keeping their distance.

  “Afternoon, gentlemen.” Mickie Carter, a black porter in his late fifties, pushed a metal cart between the men and the bus, stopping in front of the luggage compartment, which he opened. Like most black folks in Waycross, he didn’t know the men well, other than to trade pleasantries, but he did know their reputation. The Duncan brothers were no joke, and to see all of them together garnered even more notice. People rarely ever saw all four of them as a group in public, unless there was going to be some type of trouble or, as in this case, a very special occasion.

  “Today’s the big day, huh?” Mickie said.

  “Sure is, Deacon Carter.” The handsome, six-foot-two Lou Duncan grinned, chomping down on his signature torpedo-sized cigar. Lou, the oldest of the four brothers, was considered a ladies’ man, but he was not to be taken lightly, because he could be as deadly as they came if provoked. He was standing to the far left of his brothers Levi, Larry, and LC, who could all be equally lethal, if not worse. “You and your wife should come on down to Big Shirley’s about seven, eight o’clock tonight. We gonna have one hell of a celebration.”

  “Count us in. We’ll be there.” Mickie nodded his head then turned back to the luggage compartment as the bus doors opened, but Lou knew he wouldn’t be seeing him. Mickie and his wife were church folks, and church folks didn’t frequent Big Shirley’s, a place formerly known as Big Sam’s whorehouse before the Duncans took it over five years earlier.

  “Waycross, Georgia. Last stop, transfer to Macon, Savannah, Valdosta, and Jacksonville inside the station.” A portly white driver stepped out and stood by the bus door as passenger after passenger began to file out. Finally, there was a break in the steady stream of departing passengers, and a minute or two passed during which no one else exited. The Duncan brothers were still standing there, waiting, passing nervous and confused glances amongst each other as the clock ticked.

  “Where is she?” Larry, the only light-skinned Duncan brother, took an angry step toward the bus. He was a former Army Ranger and Vietnam veteran who’d come back from the war mad at the world. He was by far the most unpredictable Duncan and had a tendency to react first and ask questions later—something the driver was about to find out when he made the decision to block him from entering the bus.

  “Where is who?” the bus driver snapped back.

  The man had no idea it was his lucky day when, just as Larry was about to put him on his ass, an aged black woman appeared at the top step of the bus. There was no question that she was related to the four men, but the years hadn’t been kind to her.

  “M–M–M–M–Ma!” Levi Duncan stuttered, grabbing the woman and lifting her over his head like a sack of potatoes before she could reach the bottom step. At six-foot-eight and four hundred pounds of muscle, Levi was by far the largest and most physically intimidating Duncan. He was also the kindest of heart. However, where he was blessed by God in size, he’d been cursed with stuttering and a very low IQ. He was considered by most people outside the Duncan circle to be a simpleton, though most weren’t bold enough to say it to the brothers’ faces. “M–M–M–Ma, you’re home!”

  “Boy, if you don’t put me down!” The woman swung her bag at him to no avail as he continued to plant wet kisses all over her face. “Put me down. I gotta pee.”

  “Levi, please put Momma down,” LC Duncan, the youngest and closest thing the Duncan brothers had to a leader, asked politely. Levi kissed her one more time then did as he was told. LC stepped up to his mother, placing his hand on her mahogany brown cheek.

  “I missed you, boy,” she whispered, holding back tears. Bettie Jean Duncan loved all of her boys, but she had a special place in her heart when it came to LC. Maybe it was because of the difficult pregnancy she had with him, or perhaps their shared love for learning and books, but most likely it was because he was the spitting image of his father.

  “I missed you too, Ma,” LC said, unable to hold back tears as he pulled his mother in for a hug. It had been more than three years since he’d visited her in prison, and in that time, he’d gotten married, had a child, and grown a small gas station into the biggest used car lot in town. He’d also killed a man for the very first time and helped establish his family as the leading underworld figures in southern Georgia and northern Florida.

  LC released his mother from their embrace, and she went to Lar
ry and Lou and then back to Levi. When the ceremonial greeting was done, she turned to the boys and said, “How did you do it? How in the world did you get them white folks to release me?”

  All eyes turned to LC.

  “That, Momma, was all the college boy’s doing,” Lou replied.

  “You said he was the smartest one of us all.” Larry laughed with a nod. “Well, he proved it.”

  “But how?” Bettie Jean looked happy but confused. She’d spent the last twelve years of her life in a federal prison for killing a white man who had just shot and murdered her husband. She had expected to spend the rest of her life in there, until yesterday, when a guard gave her the new set of clothes she was wearing, a bus ticket home, and five dollars for food, then sent her on her way out the front gate. Up until a few hours ago, she’d thought she was dreaming. She still wasn’t sure this wasn’t some big mistake and the police weren’t on their way to take her back.

  “You always said I could do anything I put my mind to, Momma,” LC finally responded. “Well, I wanted you home, so I put my mind to it and put the effort into soliciting people to see things my way. If dealing with Donna and her family taught me anything, it’s that this is a who-you-know world that’s dictated by color.”

  “And that color is green. Your freedom cost us a small fortune.” Lou grinned, chomping down on his cigar. “Way more than the average ten black folks could afford in this lifetime.”

  “But it was worth every penny to get you from behind those bars, Momma,” LC finished.

  “Amen to that.” Larry laughed, wrapping an arm around Bettie Jean’s shoulders. He was smiling for the first time since he’d stepped out of the car. “We finally beat those crackers at their own game.”

  LC

  1

  I’d just finished toasting the bride and groom as their best man, and I was now happily watching Maria and Juan Rodriguez dance for the very first time as husband and wife. Juan was a good man and the closet thing I had to a friend, aside from my wife and my brothers.

  Things had been rough between us in the beginning, when he first came into Waycross with a broken-down station wagon, looking to get it fixed. He pretended to be a traveling salesman named John, but what I didn’t know was that the car was filled with marijuana in hidden compartments. He was delivering them for a boss who had threatened the lives of his family members.

  The auto parts had to be shipped to Waycross, so Juan stayed at the gas station, making himself useful for a few weeks while we waited. I thought he was a decent guy, until I found the drugs in the car’s undercarriage and he pulled a gun on me. Needless to say, things got pretty tense between me and him, but when all was said and done, he’d proven himself to be a true friend, placing his life in jeopardy for my family on more than one occasion.

  My thoughts were thrown off when my own bride, Chippy, slid in behind me, grabbing my waist and rubbing her belly behind me to get my attention. She’d been pretty frisky these past few weeks despite being eight months pregnant with our second child. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the reason she wanted my attention.

  “Are you sure your momma can handle those boys?” she asked with the concern of an overprotective mother written all over her face. We’d left our son, Junior, along with my brother Larry’s boy, Curtis, with my mother so we could attend the wedding. Usually, Chippy wouldn’t let Junior out of her sight for anyone but me.

  I chuckled, pulling her into my arms. “My mother raised four truly hardheaded boys, so I’m sure she can handle those two just fine. Stop worrying and enjoy yourself.”

  “But that Curtis is a terror. Do you remember the lump he left on Junior’s head last time we left him at Nee Nee’s?” she said, referring to the only other time we had left him with someone else.

  I tried to reassure her with a kiss, but she was right about my nephew. Curtis had a bit of the devil in him—but then again, so did my mother.

  A voice with a deep Southern accent came from behind us. “Excuse me, are you LC Duncan?”

  Chippy and I turned around to see a well-dressed, light-skinned man in his forties with a twelve-inch scar running from the top of his face on one side to the bottom of his face on the other. If it weren’t for the scar, the man would have been considered very handsome.

  “I am. How can I help you?”

  “Name’s James.” He pointed across the room at an elderly man. “Mr. Mahogany would like to have a word with you.”

  “Mr. Mahogany,” I repeated, glancing at Chippy. Juan had already warned me that there would be a lot of so-called underworld figures at the wedding. Some of them I knew, like the Fernandez brothers, Alejandro Zuniga, and Sal and Tony Dash from New York, to name a few. I’d never met Mr. Mahogany, although I’d heard of him.

  Mr. Mahogany was not unlike me and my brothers. He ran a lucrative area north of us, which included Atlanta and parts of North and South Carolina. He’d run his operation for damn near twenty years, and he was not a man to be taken lightly. Still, he did have a reputation for being a fair man. With his proximity to Waycross and our territory in southern Georgia, it was inevitable that we would one day cross paths, and evidently, that day was today. So, I kissed my wife, who I was sure would alert my brothers, and confidently headed over to see the man.

  “Excuse me, are you Mr. Mahogany?” I said politely when I approached his table. Now that I was standing in front of him, I felt a little less confident because of the way he was staring at me. Suddenly it occurred to me that maybe he wasn’t called Mr. Mahogany because it was his name, but because of the hue of his skin. I swear he had to be the darkest man I’d ever met, and I’d lived in Georgia my entire life. “Your man James said you wanted to see me.”

  To my relief, he stood and offered his hand with a smile, showing off teeth that were remarkably white for a man at least seventy years old. “Pleasure to meet you, young man.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Mahogany.” I took his leathery hand with a firm grip.

  “Have a seat, LC.” He released my hand, gesturing to an empty chair. We sat down, and he pointed to the man in the seat next to him. “LC, this my son, EJ.”

  “Nice to meet you.” I offered my hand, but EJ hesitated, only relenting after a glance from his father. EJ’s expression was somewhere between a grimace and a weak smile, revealing a row of gold teeth that gleamed against skin not quite as dark as his father’s.

  “LC, I have to apologize for staring, but looking across the table at you is a little spooky,” Mr. Mahogany said.

  “Pardon?” I replied.

  “Looking at you is like being in a time warp, because I’ll be damned if you don’t look just like your father.” His words had respect in them.

  “You knew my father?” This was news to me.

  “One of the most loyal men I’ve ever known. I knew him and your mother.” His face became serious. “I’m sure she’s proud of all the hard work and effort you put into bringing her home from prison. How is Bettie?”

  “Good.” I was surprised that he knew about that. “She’s at my brother Larry’s, playing grandma to our two boys.”

  His smile widened, and he chuckled, glancing over at his son. “Good for her. Grandchildren are what this world is all about when you reach our age. Please give her my best.”

  “I will, but I’m sure you didn’t call me over just to give my mother your best wishes.” Men like Mr. Mahogany weren’t usually interested in small talk, and neither was I. We might as well get right down to business–whatever that was. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “We just wanted to meet the man who took out our old friend Big Sam,” EJ interjected, his gold teeth sparkling.

  I really wasn’t sure where this was going, but I sure as hell was glad that Larry, Lou, and Levi had just shown up and were standing behind me. EJ and Mr. Mahogany glanced up at them, but I figured introductions were unnecessary at this point. “Well, in all honesty, EJ, the only reason Sam isn’t with us here today is because he for
got who his friends were.” I glanced over at my kin. “My brothers Larry and Lou here used to work for Sam. Hell, Lou even considered himself Sam’s best friend.”

  “That still doesn’t explain why Sam is dead,” EJ snapped, making it clear how he felt about the way we’d handled Sam.

  “Sam is dead because Sam was greedy. He wanted to take over shit we’d grown from the ground up,” Larry interjected, a little louder than I would have liked.

  “It was his territory,” Mr. Mahogany replied calmly. “You would deny him a taste? I’m sure you wouldn’t put up with that in your present position.”

  “A taste would have been fine, but Sam wanted the whole thing,” I explained, keeping my tone respectful. I didn’t want anything escalating at Juan’s wedding reception. I could see in his eyes as he nodded at me that Mr. Mahogany understood our dilemma. His son, on the other hand, did not.

  “Bullshit!” EJ exploded. “I was told this all started because you were in love with one of his whores and stuck your nose where it didn’t belong.” He leaned his chair back on two legs and glared at Chippy, who was lingering at a nearby table, watching us all closely.

  My first instinct was to jump up and smack the taste out the man’s mouth for insulting my wife, but when I glanced at Chippy, she shook her head and gave me a look that told me to stay calm. Unfortunately, she didn’t give my hotheaded brother Larry that same look.

  “Who the fuck you calling a whore? You calling my sister-in-law a whore?” Larry slipped past me and kicked the bottom of the chair EJ was sitting in, making him fall on his ass.

  “Motherfucker, obviously you don’t like living.” EJ jumped up, along with every man on their side of the table—except for Mr. Mahogany, who remained remarkably calm. They may have jumped up in defense of EJ, but it was obvious that his men would not make another move without his approval.

  I tried to mimic his demeanor, but I could not say it would have the same effect, because Larry was such a loose cannon that no one could predict his actions.