7. Chapter 7
Chapter 7
DECLAN
I remain rooted to my seat as Vivian leaves tonight as I always do. I was a dick to her, and that bothers me. And the fact that it bothers me is also bothering me.
See, being an asshole is sort of my calling card. I like it. I don’t actually care for most people, and so me being an asshole helps weed out the ones who don’t really want to be around me. So when my behavior bothers people, I just assume they aren’t worth the effort of getting to know me. But the thought that I had upset Vivian tonight by being rude to her makes me so mad at myself, and that doesn’t really fit with my whole being an asshole who doesn’t give a shit about others persona.
I am attracted to Vivian, no doubt about it. I mean, from the second I saw her glossy black hair, she’s been all I can think about. Pairing that with her beautiful face and her personality has me desperate to be around her. She is creating things in me I haven’t ever felt before.
And Vivian is the polar opposite of my usual type. I generally go for the dim ones, the ones who can’t have more than a two-minute flirty conversation. I am known more to be with women who wear minimal clothing and spend their nights pounding shots. I like them to know I am a few-hour thing at the most, and that generally seems to work for them.
Vivian dresses appropriately for the weather and spends her evenings in class. But what does she do after class? Does she go straight home? Does she change and go out? She looks tired sometimes; is that why? What the fuck do you care, Declan? my subconscious asks, interrupting my spiraling thoughts.
I extricate myself from the desk and stalk out to the parking lot just as the bus is pulling away. Which is good. I do not have time to explore whatever it is about Vivian that has captured my attention. I have business to worry about.
My brothers were in charge of disposing of the degenerates Tuesday night, and did so at the nearest emergency room. My Dad insisted he be the one to talk to Perez. He’d been really hopped up after our interaction, and when we got home, he’d said it just didn’t feel right.
“I’ve known Perez for a long fucking time. He is a man of his word, and he promised me he’d keep his shit out.”
“He’s a drug dealer, Dad,” I had reminded him.
“He is a man with honor,” he told me sharply. “Trust me, Declan, the people on the right side of the law are not always more morally sound than a drug dealer.”
I know he is right, but I still don’t believe that a promise made to my father decades earlier, by someone so blatantly on the wrong side of the law, could be trusted.
“I’m going to go and talk to him tomorrow and—”
“I’ll go too,” I said, cutting him off.
My father shook his head and opened his mouth to argue, but then he took a long look at me. He inhaled deeply and started to nod his head. “Okay, yeah, yeah, Declan, you come too.”
I have made an executive decision to have my brothers nearby, just in case. My dad feels confident about Perez being someone he can trust, but I do not. Besides, I have heard rumblings of Perez’s son starting to learn the business in order to take over for his father, and I know my father couldn’t vouch for his loyalty.
My father reached out to Perez and made arrangements for us to meet up tonight, once I am done with my class. I drive back home, park my car, and am about to get out and head to my dad’s car, but as soon as I shut the door, I notice my father making his way toward me.
“What’s up?” I call to him as he crosses the walkway to me.
“I thought we could take your car tonight,” he says, walking around my car to the passenger side.
“Uh, sure,” I say, opening my door and sliding back inside. This is weird. My dad always drives. He’s repeatedly said he feels like driving gives him the best way to stay in control. Something about this sudden change in behavior is sending warning bells for me.
Once I back out of the driveway, I glance over at my dad. “You okay?”
He fixes a questioning gaze at me. “Yeah,” he says slowly, “why?”
I shrug, weaving my way through the familiar city streets. “You always drive,” I point out to him by way of answering.
My father chuckles. “I’m gettin’ old, Declan,” he chides. “For years I drove all over this damn city running to and from all the bars and buildings. And then there were the activities for you guys on top of it. I remember counting down the days until you three got your licenses. Now you boys all take care of the running around and I just have to be Roman’s taxi driver. I kind of like not having to drive as much for a change.”
I nod my head, taking it in. It sounds like a good enough explanation, but I don’t believe him. In my gut, I feel like he is lying to me. I always trust my gut—it has never let me down—but I have never had to listen to it with my dad. Why would he lie to me?
I push the thoughts away. It is just driving, I tell myself. Instead I focus on the road while I mull over the best route to take, then make my way onto the highway toward New Bedford and the warehouse.
Fishing is big in our New England coastal area, and if you ask me there is nothing like fresh fish. The warehouse is Perez’s main fishery, and it distributes many of the local delicacies to surrounding states and even nationwide. It is a well-known distribution center for local cod, scallops, and lobster. But you can also get yourself a side of fentanyl, or perhaps a dash of cocaine if your price is right. Perez uses the warehouse as a front to move his legal and illegal products around the area as well.
It is common knowledge that Perez comes to the warehouse each and every evening to ensure his distribution is on schedule and properly shipped. Because his most lucrative cargo goes out under the cover of night.
The parking lot of the warehouse is crushed-up quahog shells, and there is a massive sliding door on the side of the building, almost as large as the building itself, open partway. The crunch of the shells as our vehicle approaches has workers looking up from inside the huge building. It is so bright inside the building, it has to be blinding them to the outside, and their squinting seems to confirm that. So while they look out to the sound, there is hardly any way of anyone inside telling if we are someone to worry about. That is the job of the guys posted outside.
The guards are in suits, and look like they belong outside a high-end nightclub rather than outside a raggedy-looking building. One of the suited apes taps my window and indicates for me to roll it down. I do so, about an inch.
“I don’t think you belong here,” the man says, his narrowed eyes peeking through the minuscule crack I’d created.
“Tell your boss Falco is here,” I say to him, and watch as the man’s eyes flick briefly to the side, listening to whatever is said into his earpiece. He nods, I presume at whatever information he is given, and then he points to the front of the building and I pull forward.
Once parked, we get out of my car and enter the highly lit warehouse. I follow my dad and we make our way through the workers inside who keep their heads down and continue working, ignoring our presence. Likewise, we don’t look at anything they are doing either.
At the end of the warehouse is a staircase that leads to an upper-level office with windows that overlook what is happening downstairs. As we get closer, Antonio Perez appears at the top of the stairs and starts walking down them toward us.
I wait patiently with my father at the bottom of the stairs, but I am ready. I see guards on the edges, I see the guards behind Perez, and I try to keep some of the workers in my sights as well. I know for sure they too could just as easily be part of the security detail.
When Perez makes it to the bottom, he and my father assess each other, and I feel the air around us crackling with energy. I am used to my father walking in and his presence claiming a room. I have even noticed it myself as I start to do more things for our businesses. But now there are two powerful presences before me, and it feels like electricity is buzzing all around us, enough that I wouldn’t be surprised if the power shorted.
“Jude,” Perez finally says, acknowledging my father.
My father tilts his head to the side and considers Perez from head to toe before he replies, “Antonio.”
It is quiet for a second—even the factory workers have paused, wondering what is going to happen with their surprise visitors. And then, out of nowhere, both my father and Perez burst out laughing and embrace each other.
The security guard behind Perez looks at me with a what the fuck is this look, and I just shrug, feigning boredom, but inside I am just as flustered. I just know how to keep it in.
“How the hell have you been, old man?” Perez asks my father as they pull out of their bro hug.
“Who you calling old man? Last I remember, I am younger than you by several years,” my father reminds him.
Perez shrugs. “Those are just numbers. Come, my friend, let’s head to my office and talk about this mess.”
Arms around each other, my father and Perez walk up the stairs to the office. The guards follow immediately behind, and that is fine with me. I want to be at the tail end to assess the area further for escape routes. My father was in the navy and was scouted to be a Navy SEAL, but he opted out. His training was in-depth, and he wasted no time training my brothers and me on how to keep ourselves safe. He still has old navy buddies that he employs, and all of his new hires for security go through a rigorous training session to see if they can stand it. But one of the most important things is being aware of your surroundings.
Once we reach the top metal landing that looks over the warehouse, Perez opens the office door and waves his hand to invite my father in. I am still scoping out the area when Perez says, “I see you’ve trained your boy.”
“All my boys are trained,” my dad says proudly, then continues to me, “Declan, come on in.” I exchange looks with him and he gives me a slight nod. I don’t want to go in and he knows it. I want to stay outside and keep an eye out.
“You are safe here. I swear on my family’s life,” Perez says to me.
I don’t trust him, but I trust my father, so I go in.
One of the guards attempts to follow, and Perez just says no and they all stay outside.
I walk inside and am surprised by what I find. I expected an office with a junky desk and maybe some folding chairs. But it is actually what looks like luxury office spaces I’ve seen in movies. There is walnut wood paneling, from floor to ceiling, hardwood floors, and lush drapery around the windows that overlook the floors below. The windows are tinted to allow a soft lighting and block out the fluorescent lighting that is hitting the people downstairs.
“Surprised, young Falco?” Perez asks me as he strides over to his plush chair behind a large mahogany desk. “I like nice things,” he says, smirking at me. “Please, have a seat.”
My father sits, but I stand behind him, liking that vantage point best.
“I have to say, it is a pleasant surprise to hear from you after all this time, Jude,” Perez starts. “But I feel this is not a friendly visit.”
My father shakes his head. “Always good to see you, Tony, but no, this is business.”
Perez cocks his head to the side. “Business? Jude, you and I separated our business long ago.”
The fact that they ever had business together is news to me, but still I just stand there stone-faced, taking everything in.
“Yeah, we did, but there were two numb-nuts working at my place Tuesday night, who were pretty shady. After some discussion, they eventually claimed to be employed by you.”
“Eventually?”
“We had to have some intense discussions.”
“Why is that?”
“Because at first they said they worked for Vavito, but my Axel was able to finesse more information from one of them who said that they were placed there by your organization, and told to pin it on Vavito.”
I watch as Antonio Perez’s jaw tenses, but seemingly as soon as it appears, it disappears. He is good at covering his emotions, but this must take him by surprise for him to let his guard down for even a second.
“And a few days before that, Cruz came to speak to Declan—”
“You’ve seen Eddie?” Perez asks, cutting my father off. There is emotion in his voice now, and he is leaning forward, bracing himself on the desk.
His response gives my father pause. “Declan did, yes,” my father says, nodding his head toward me.
Perez fixes his gaze to mine. “Where is he?”
“He was waiting for me after my night class at BCC,” I tell him. His question is confusing to me. In fact, I am surprised that Eddie isn’t here tonight, nearly crawling up Perez’s ass.
Perez studies me. “How did he look?” he asks, his tone no longer businesslike in nature.
“Look?” I ask, completely perplexed.
“Yes, was he, uh, disheveled or, or injured?” Perez asks, concern all over his face.
“No,” I reply. “He was in perfect health when he got there, driving a white Mercedes with way too many lights on the outside and wearing about twelve chains around his neck.”
“What did he say?”
I exchange a look with my father. “He told me he heard that we were allowing product to be sold in our places.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“I told him that is not true.”
Perez stands suddenly, the movement having me reach quickly for my gun, but I don’t pull it out. He starts pacing behind his desk, shoving his hands in his pockets, then pulling them back out.
“Did he say or do anything else?” he asks, not looking at me, just continuing to pace.
“He pulled a gun on me…” I say, “to my back.”
The information stops Tony in his place, and he looks over at me. “And then what?”
“My brother Axel took him down. The last time I saw him, he was on the ground next to his running pimp ride.”
Perez shakes his head and resumes his pacing.
“What’s this about, Tony?” Dad asks.
Perez lets out a heavy breath, his shoulders seeming to sag with the weight of whatever it is that is causing this sudden change in his character. “You and I, Jude, we made an understanding a long time ago, and I want you to know that I would never ever go back on my word. Nor would anyone who works for me or any of my family. I want to make sure you understand that.”
“I know your word is good, Tony,” he assures him. “That’s why I’m here, so we can sort this shit out.”
Perez nods. “Good, I want that to be clear between us.”
“I’ve known Eddie since he was twelve, poor kid. His family is a bunch of shit bags, and I felt a connection to him. I’d grown up in a similar way and I wanted to help him. I wanted him to have it better. So I started to have him do things for me—get me the paper, shine my shoes, grab me a water from the store—and I’d pay him. He was like a poor beaten dog, he was so hesitant to take anything, but slowly he warmed up to me. And he was a great kid. Loyal and trusting. He could handle any task I threw his way. And I started trusting him with more and more tasks. My kids were still young, and slowly Eddie became my right-hand kid. He took on a lot of things.
“A couple of months ago, I started to bring my son Dominic around. He is nineteen, and college didn’t work out for him. I started to show him some of the business stuff, some of my legit stuff. I want him to get ready to slowly start taking over. I could see Eddie getting irritated with how much time I was spending with Dominic. He didn’t like it when I would send Dominic to have him do things.
“And one day Eddie asked when he was going to be taking over. I was shocked. I have always talked about how I’d worked so hard so my kids would have something. I know Eddie had heard me say it over the years.
“I told Eddie this is a family business. The poor kid says he thought he was family.” Tony looks down and shakes his head. “I was blunt, too blunt. I didn’t give it any thought. I forgot that he was still the poor kid who wanted to belong, the poor kid who had earned my trust. And I more or less told him that he was just an employee.”
Perez shakes his head again and looks back to me and my dad. “He was so hurt, but we were out. I couldn’t talk it out with him, because we were in the middle of business. I planned to talk to him later that night. But that was two weeks ago, and I haven’t seen him since. He just left. I’ve heard rumblings that he is starting his own thing. But Eddie, he’s not a leader. More likely he took a job with someone else, someone who will abuse his loyalty. I’ve been trying to track him down, but he knows where I’d look for him, he knows how I’d do it, and who would look for him. He knows how to avoid them and where he can go. I’m worried about him, but he’s also—”
“A liability,” I fill in, and Perez nods.
“So no, Jude, I don’t have anyone trying to sell in your venues. And I don’t think this is Marco either. We have clear distribution lines and plans to merge down the road.”
“Any idea who Eddie might be working for?”
“I haven’t heard about anyone else in the area. I mean, it could be him trying to create a war, distracting both the big markets on this coast with it, and then get his own supplies in,” Perez says, thinking it through.
“It isn’t a bad idea if that’s what he is trying,” my father adds, and Perez shakes his head.
“But you don’t think that is the case?” I ask, bringing them both back to the issue at hand. “That Eddie would run his own thing.”
“No, I don’t,” Perez says. “It’s more likely someone else hired Eddie to try and create the conflict. He isn’t a leader. He follows commands well, but he can’t come up with his own thing.” Perez shakes his head, his gaze drifting off. “I’m not sure how your family ended up in the middle, but this isn’t the first time someone has tried to create a rift between the Vavitos and my business. I will look at this more for you, Jude.”
“Thanks, Tony. If you hear anything, please let me know.”
“I will,” Perez says to my father, and then he meets my eyes. “And if you see Eddie, or hear about his whereabouts, please let me know.”
I nod, and Perez comes over to shake my hand while my father moves to get himself out of the chair. I watch him out of my periphery and notice it seems to be taking him a little effort to get up. Before I can look closer at him, Perez starts to speak to me.
“It was nice to meet you, Declan,” he says. “Please know that my agreements with your father stand for your whole family.”
I nod, even though I have no idea what he is even talking about. My father has made his way over to us, and he and Perez hug.
“Don’t be a stranger,” Perez says to him.
“You either, Tony,” Dad says among some back slaps, and with that we leave the room. My eyes take a second to adjust as I go back out into the brightly lit warehouse and we head down the stairs and out to my car.
“You and Perez close?” I ask after a few minutes of silence.
My father smirks. “I worked with him when I was a kid.”
“You never said anything,” I say.
My dad shrugs and then sighs. “I made a good deal of money hustling drugs, along with loan-sharking and collecting before the navy. I had nothing. I get what Tony is saying. My dad was a drunk. I went in the navy because I knew I didn’t want to be doing that shit forever, and I hoped to make a career of it. That didn’t pan out, so I came back here, cause I didn’t know where else to go. No family. Tony set me up. He had started some of his own stuff then, and he had me doing the collecting. I took that money and rented the Flint location. I met your mom, and she didn’t like that I associated with drugs. It was a hard no for her. So Tony and I, we parted ways. But he is good people.”
“He sells drugs, Dad,” I remind him.
“He’s a businessman, Declan. There is a market for it and he provides it. He also donates millions into drug education for public schools each year, but he doesn’t talk about that. He has his money in other pots, more legal ones, but the most profitable is the drugs.”
I shake my head, because it seems like he is saying what Perez does is okay.
“I’m not saying I condone what he does, Declan,” my father says, eerily reading my mind. “But we have our gambling rooms, and you’ve seen what kind of lives that can destroy too.”
He might have a point.
“It’s not black and white,” he points out. I nod, still mulling the whole thing over as we get back into my car. “Let’s get out of here.”
We drive the rest of the way in silence, stopping off to catch Axel up to speed on our meeting before heading home. When we get there, I get out of my car and head to my tenement house next door. I turn to tell him good night and that I’ll talk to him later, but when I turn, I find him still getting out of the car. I make my way back to him slowly, watching him move.
“Dad, are you okay?”
He looks up, clearly struggling to get out of the car. “Yeah,” he says with a grunt, “I’m fine.”
I roll my eyes up to the sky. “Old man, can you just tell me the truth for once without me having to drag it the fuck out of you?”
On a huge groan, my father finally pulls himself up and out of the car. “Fine,” he says, slamming my car door before leveling his hard stare at my own. “I pulled my back today trying to move a machine at one of the bars by myself. And I am trying to hide it from you but you gotta be fucking Sherlock Holmes.”
I try to tamp down my temper before I answer him, but it’s an effort. “Dad, just tell us when you need our help and we will do it,” I say firmly, trying to keep my anger from seeping into my words. This isn’t the first time in the last few months my dad has done something alone and injured himself in the process.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he says. “Sometimes your old dad just likes to feel young again.” I roll my eyes, and Dad laughs. “Alright, I’m going to relieve Slade from Roman duty.”
“Okay. Night, Dad, I love you,” I say, turning to my tenement again.
“I love you more, buddy.”