4. Sid
SID
P apa’s house is only down the street. Walking through his front door, loud voices echo down the hall.
Rylee’s head pokes out. “Sid, we’re all in here.
” I’ve always liked her. My dad doesn’t share the same sentiment.
I think it’s because they could technically be siblings with the age difference.
She and Papa have been together for nearly twenty years, if not more, and never married.
Which I totally support, because at the end of the day, it’s just a fucking piece of paper. Mom and dad are the same.
They are all endgame and I am obsessed.
I love reading people, watching people, because the human mind is fascinating. Papa may wear the pants in the family business but she makes him beg for it in the bedroom. Knowing them better than others, I can just tell. And it makes me even more proud to be a member of this sadistic family .
Walking into the office, I’m greeted by Greta on the recliner off in the corner. Delacroix, Cecilia, Rylee, Rogers, Thomas, and my parents are a few familiar faces lining the room on top of the handful of non-family members.
Sitting behind his desk, cigar in hand with two fingers of whiskey in a crystal glass before him, is my grandfather, Nathaniel Sinclair.
A leather chair sits next to him, so leisurely I walk past everyone and take my seat next to him.
I wonder how one would acquire a throne, I’m not pretentious or think I am better than anyone, but the aesthetic appeals to me.
As I lower myself to the chair, the paper in my pocket crinkles. Fuck.
Pulling it out, I discreetly and inconspicuously place it on Papa’s lap, out of sight and out of mind.
My focus stays ahead to not draw attention.
This is a matter not up for a group discussion, so no need to alarm anyone if it’s nothing at all.
Papa snatches it like a pro while his deep voice echoes in the room,
“It’s no secret that by the close of this year, Sid Sinclair will be the new Diablo of The Devil’s Society.
Starting tonight, right fucking now, all communication goes to both of us.
If I catch one message differing between the two of us, consider your days numbered.
I won’t tolerate bullshit politics or gender profiling.
If anything, you should be goddamn terrified to piss her off considering who her daddy is.
Do I make myself crystal fucking clear?”
It’s rare to see Papa this formally commanding.
But that’s how you know he isn’t messing around.
This is one hundred percent serious and any violation of his order will land you in an unmarked grave.
The corners of my mouth attempt to smirk, the thought of killing gives me great thrill, but I then remind myself, these are our own, and it would be devastating.
No one objects, the room sits silent, and all eyes remain focused on us. He has the ability to command everyone's attention and keep it.
“Good. Now that we have that covered, high-level updates.” Papa snaps his fingers and sits back in his chair, sucking back on his cigar with his eyes on Greta, giving her a curt nod to begin.
“Similar to Nathaniel, I have decided it’s time to step back completely from The Ranch.
I’m getting too old to deal with small dicks.
Rylee has fully stepped in since the rebuild and I will officially transfer the deed to the house, licenses, and land into her name within the week.
” Greta smiles with pride and the room claps, congratulating Rylee while also celebrating Greta.
She’s a fucking icon. I wish she would write an autobiography one day, because I would eat that shit up.
The things this woman has seen, been through, legendary.
Looking over to Rylee, I give her a quick wink and smile.
After the original Ranch was burned down, we helped Greta rebuild her dynasty.
In return we took a ten-percent stake in it and the rest is history.
It’s one of the businesses I can truly stand behind with pride.
It empowers and employs people of all genders and sexual orientation.
And it gives them a safe place to conduct business while feeling free.
I’m so excited for Rylee, she has plenty of fresh ideas and plans that she has been implementing and testing out, all the while keeping the legacy in place.
Everyone there loves her. They love Greta, but Rylee is bringing The Ranch into this century.
It’s such an exciting time. Fuck, if I didn't have this gig lined up or my slaughterhouse, I would have seriously considered working there.
Maybe as an enforcer you hear about in Vegas, where they fuck shit up in the backroom and you never see the asshole again.
I would have excelled at that job. But alas, here we are.
Maybe I can offer my services on the side, I wonder if that would be frowned upon?
Dad interrupts my happy butterflies and rainbows thought with a snide comment directed to Greta. “Next, you can move out of my fucking house.”
“Oh, I won’t be leaving until you move my dead cold body from your side of the bed,” Greta counters casually, waving dad off.
“I can arrange that tonight.”
My mom jumps in to only make things more uncomfortable between the two. “I’ve always said that you two need to fuck your feelings out and move on. This sexual tension is becoming unbearable.”
The room snickers, and Greta smiles then winks at my dad who is holding up his middle finger.
Once the commotion subsides, Papa asks, “Shall we continue? ”
The rest of the room speaks, giving a brief overview of their operations, including drugs, politicians, law enforcement, academia, security and legal businesses; primarily all the places we launder our money through.
Uncle Thomas clears his throat as he is the last to speak.
After spending years under my dad learning the trade, we decided to put him in charge of information gathering because of how well he blends in.
The guy was born with very generic exterior qualities, never sticking out.
If we suspect a rat or hear rumblings of whispers and secret discussions, we send him in to gather the intel.
Uncle Thomas has a small team under him for stakeouts, lookouts, and recon work, which includes Abi, our own version of a man of mystery.
With his hands in his pants pockets, leaning against the wall next to Greta, he speaks, “Sid was kind enough to handle the recent threat we caught.”
I smile proudly, but I would do this shit for fun, regardless.
“Yes, and Blaise is handling the body,” I add, no loose ends. My brother helps, when in the mood, with his version of information gathering and disposal.
Thomas nods in thanks before continuing.
“We have our ear to the wall on a few other, minor things. If anything comes of it, you both will be first to know.” Uncle Thomas has to be vague because only Papa and I know of the greater details, which are communicated in person at undisclosed locations each week or as needed if it’s an emergency .
I assume this is why Abi was called out tonight, though we try to keep work out of the bedroom.
“Be sure to keep us apprised should it turn into something grander,” Papa requests. Thomas nods once more, ending his update.
Sitting forward in his seat, Papa places his cigar in the ashtray and then takes a swig of his whiskey.
The room watches him. “Great job, everyone. Thank you for your time this evening, and as the rest of this year progresses, you’ll be reporting to my granddaughter more, not me.
So get fucking use to it.” And with those final words, the meeting concludes.
We stay seated behind the desk and wait for the room to clear.
My mom looks back at me, proudly, before following my dad out.
Greta is last, with her blinged-out walker, Rogers following behind.
Still in awe of her every single day, I will never not believe, that woman is a fucking legend.
Following the closing of the front door, I rise and do the same with the office door. I trust our people but you can’t help but have a nosey one in the bunch, hiding in the dark and lingering around in hopes of overhearing something they shouldn’t.
It’s human nature.
Papa opens the note I passed him, the one I found on Tash this evening.
Reading it out loud, he says, “ We see you when you're sleeping.” He shakes his head. “Yeah, and we will see you too, motherfucker,” he murmurs to himself.
“It was on the hood of my car this time. ”
He opens his desk drawer and places it on top of the others we’ve gotten over the past few weeks.
“Why is there blood on this one?” he questions, puzzled.
Blowing out a sigh, I’m not looking forward to delivering this news as I reveal, “It was stapled to Tash’s dead, naked, and carved body.”
His shoulders drop in disbelief. Leaning back, he rakes his tattooed fingers through his silver hair. “Fuck me.”
“An upside-down cross was cut then cauterized on her torso.” As I provide more details, his head continues to shake.
“This shit between your dad and brother needs to end, tonight!” he seethes.
Blaise has been known to do things that are against the establishment, rebel against what we have built.
The burned edges of the paper fit his MO.
But leaving a dead body, carved, and the body belonging to Tash, it doesn’t feel like him.
But whomever it is has access to the estate, which gives me a small list to go off of, considering most are family.
Papa startles me, slamming his fists against the hardwood desk.
“If this bullshit gets out, it’s going to make us look like we can’t keep our own fucking house in order.
And if our members think that, then why would they stand by us as leaders?
” His points are valid, I can’t and won’t argue them.
And it makes me wonder, if it isn’t my brother then who was able to casually walk through the gates with a dead body in hand?
My mind races but my thoughts are quickly interrupted.
“She was our best fucking person to have in front of the pharma companies.” Papa’s eyes close, and his next words come out, exasperated.
“I’ll call them in the morning. Reassuring that nothing changes and, you, in the meantime, find someone comparable to Tash to get in front of them.
We can’t have them taking this as an opportunity to renegotiate. ”
I give a curt nod. “I will, Papa. Leave it with me,” I reassure him. If anyone knows my brother best, it’s me. And Papa is right, Blaise’s resentment is going to start making us look weak.
And we are anything but that.
“I’ll handle the body myself, don’t call a cleanup crew,” I advise, as it’s less chatter that way. Papa ponders, then agrees. “Thanks, baby Sin.” His voice is softer now. It’s late and his eye bags are getting heavier.
“I can’t wait for all this shit to be yours. I won’t fucking miss it.”
I laugh. “You will. I’ll be getting calls daily from you, don’t even try to deny it.”
He laughs in response, smirking and shrugging his shoulders.
“Go home, sweet girl. Call if you need help, I’ll make sure Tash’s kid is taken care of. Placed in a good home with plenty of resources.”
Smiling, I walk back over to him and bend slightly to kiss his cheek before whispering, “Thank you… and don’t ex pect a call. I would hate to interrupt whatever Rylee has planned for you tonight.” My tone is playful and suggestive.
“Why do you even think about that?” His face contorts, regretting the question. “Don’t answer that, I don’t want to know what runs through that mind of yours. Now, get going.”
Laughing still, I skip out of his office cheerfully. “Night, you horny love birds,” I shout into the rest of the house. Faint laughter from upstairs trickles down into my ears and I smile in satisfaction.
I have a strange need to push boundaries. I like it, it’s fun and lightens the mood. Something we all need as I go home, tasked with burying a fellow member, and friend.