34. A Lesson In Eradication
a lesson in eradication
Deirdre
A fter a call with my realtor, anxiety builds in my gut. I toss back my meds with a swig of water and wait for the calm to wash over me. They’re not backing down from this bid, and for the first time during this whole experience, I’m nervous I’m going to lose.
I could use some advice, but I’d prefer it from another Black woman instead of Dad or Darius. Mom isn’t as cutthroat, and since we’re cut from the same cloth, that leaves one person.
Regina.
I check the time before dialing her number. Her kids should be at school by now, so she may pick up. The line rings three times, and when I think it’s going to connect to voicemail, the line picks up, but she doesn't speak right away.
After a moment, I hear her voice say, “My bad. I had to put on my headphones.”
“Are you busy?”
“Nah, I can talk. What’s up?”
It sounds like she’s in the car, and I hear something like muffled screams on her end of the phone. I probably shouldn’t ask, but it may keep my mind off of this bid for a moment.
“Are you alone? It sounds like someone is screaming over there.”
She scoffs. “Noise cancelling headphones, my ass. Goddamn chloroform wore off. Excuse me for a sec,” she grumbles, and I hear a thumping sound that I can only assume is her banging on the roof of her car.
“Hey! If you don’t shut the fuck up, you’re getting knocked out again.
I’m trying to have a conversation here,” she exclaims, her thick New York accent in full effect.
After a deep sigh, she continues, “No manners, this fucking guy. Sorry about that. What’s going on? ”
“Where is Price?” I ask, ignoring her question.
“I shook him. He follows me everywhere and claims he’s ‘following Cidro’s orders,’” she admits in a mocking tone, poorly imitating his Scottish accent. “Sometimes, I just want to be left alone. I don’t see the fucking issue.”
It’s no wonder why he ordered that she shouldn’t be left unsupervised. Look at the shit she gets into.
“I agree that you don’t need a bodyguard, but if that was Cidro’s wish, it’s what he wanted,” I mention, hoping to reason with her. After all, Cidro was the only one who could reason with her.
“I don’t understand why Ro would hire a Scot to work for the Italians. I’ve looked him up and can’t find shit on this guy. But my husband trusted him to look after me in his absence? I call bullshit.”
“Um, I don’t know. He seems nice and very handsome.”
“You don’t have him tailing you all day. Please tell me more about his glowing personality, because to me he is a red-headed boulder with teeth.”
I snort. “Gi, my God. Please tell me you’re not doing a shakedown over there.”
“Fine, I’m not doing a shakedown. I’m teaching a lesson.”
“What’s the difference?” I squeak out, not sure if I want to know the answer.
“I warned him twice about counting cards, and he thought I was playing. Today was the third warning and you know I hate repeating myself. I got a call from my team. They took him off the floor so I can talk to him when I get there. Tell me why this motherfucker called me out of my name and tried to spit on me ?”
Oh shit.
“I’ve had enough of these racist motherfuckers trying me because they hate a Black woman in charge. It is what it fucking is, and if he’s got a death wish, he found the right one. So, long story short, he’s kicking and screaming in my trunk.”
I have so many questions, but for once I can’t say she isn’t overreacting.
“Why didn’t you have anybody help? What if he overpowered you?” Somebody has to be concerned for her safety, aside from the red-headed boulder with teeth.
“I had help. The valet boys put him there. Those kids will hide a body if you offer them cash,” she murmurs the last part, as if it’s advice I’ll one day need.
“Counting cards isn’t illegal, Gi,” I remind her. But what she’s doing is .
“It is in my fucking house. We’ll see how well you play blackjack without all your fingers, Alfieee ,” she sings.
I resist the urge to laugh at her, though it’s a challenge. She’d be fucking hilarious if she wasn’t dead serious.
“Geez. It’s 9 a.m. What are you going to do?”
“Cigar cutter. One at a time then cauterize them,” she informs. “You got a better idea?”
Jesus. I love my family. I didn’t ask for them, but I love them, no less.
I swallow. “umm. No. I wouldn’t know the first thing about that.”
“Mmhm. So, why are you calling? You don’t call anymore and barely answer the phone for me. What do you want?”
She clocked me. She’s really good at spotting bullshit.
“Advice. I have a problem.”
Muffled screams filter through her end of the line, reminding us of the company she’s keeping.
“Hold on. Enough, Alfred. No one is gonna save you. If you’d been respectful, you’d have some leg room, but instead you ran your fucking mouth.
And you better hold your bladder until we get there, I swear.
Or you will be cleaning up your own mess with whatever’s left of your fingers. I only clean up after my kids.”
Silence passes as she waits to hear if he’s going to continue.
“I’m back. Sorry about that. If you’re ordering a hit, you’re gonna have to call Angie. I had to squeeze this errand in before I head back to the kids’ school.”
“What’s going on at the school?”
“Girl, fucking career day. Ro always did this, and it’s the first one without him,” she sighs. “He was better at this shit than me. A real PTA Daddy, he was. I’m not good with children that aren’t mine. You remember when Uncle El used to come to ours?”
I chuckle. “How could I forget?”
“You remember him threatening Joey’s dad after he pushed you off the swings?”
“I do. He told him if his son didn’t keep his hands to himself, he’d break both of his arms?—”
She finishes my sentence, “And if he had to wear two casts, he wouldn’t be able to touch a damn thing.” She breaks into a fit of laughter at the memory.
“It was embarrassing then, but it is funny now. Joey never touched me again. Wouldn’t even look at me,” I muse.
“I’m not that bad am I?” she asks, her tone serious.
“I don’t know, Gi. Have you threatened to break the bones of someone else’s child?”
“I can’t say I have.”
“Then maybe you can take on events with the kids. Go be a PTA mom.”
She blows out a breath. “That sounds awful, but all I can do is try. Now, whatddya need advice on?”
“Well, I just talked with the realtor and the Hales aren’t giving up. I’m getting closer to my cap on this property, and I’ll have to concede if this bid doesn’t end soon.”
“Fucking trust fund babies. I mean so are we, but we’re Black. It’s different,” she grumbles.
“I’m so tired, Gi. They don’t even need this property. They just don’t want me to have it,” I add with a resigned sigh. “What would you do?”
“I’d take them out.”
“Absolutely not. Gi, why does your mind always go there?”
“No days off. Eradication is my ministry. Life is easier when problems disappear. Like this fucking guy. You hear that, Alfie?” She pauses, and there’s no response. ”Oh now you want to be quiet,” she taunts while I wonder if the guy passed out from lack of oxygen. Can that happen in a trunk?
“Let me rephrase. What would you do without violence?”
“You could keep bidding and see how much you’re willing to spend over your cap, if needed. Or…” she trails off.
“Or?”
“You’re not gonna like this one, but you may need to throw in the towel with this property and find another because you stand to lose a lot of money fucking around with them. What are you thinking?” she asks.
“I don’t know.”
“Now you see why I choose violence every time. Quick and easy. The offer still stands. You won’t be in a war with them if they disappear.”
“No, Gi, they’re billionaires. It will be a fucking mess that’ll blow back on me,” I remind her, only ever wanting designer bracelets on these wrists. “Plus it goes against me wanting to do things the right way.”
“It must be nice to have a moral compass. The needle snapped on mine a long time ago,” she jokes before continuing.
“There’s one other thing I’d do if I were avoiding violence.
I’d call your dad and schedule a sit down.
Let him do all the talking, though. I know this is your venture, but you need muscle and intimidation. Uncle El will spook them.”
She ain’t lying.
“I’ll think about it. Thanks, Gi.”
“Fair enough. The offer still stands, if you need it.”
“I’m going to get back to work. Have fun with Alfie.” I pause a moment before offering words of support. “Oh, and you’re doing great with the kids. I don’t know if anyone tells you that,” I blurt.
A weighted silence takes over the line, and I fear the call may have dropped.
“Uh—Thanks. I love you,” she squeaks.
“I love you, too,” I say before the line disconnects.