Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Joaquin
“You’re certain that woman just caused shit because Vita and Tricia happened to run into her? She wasn’t there for any other reason?”
Only Alejandro calls his wife Vita while the rest of us call her Toria.
“I’m certain, Alejo. I dug all night. The woman was with her boyfriend, and he had no idea we were there until one of our guys practically dragged him out of his seat.
We chatted outside. Even with my fist in his face five times, he had little to say.
It shocked the shit out of him to find me waiting for him.
He about pissed himself when I explained why we needed to talk.
He apologized for his girlfriend and said he’d deal with her. ”
“Normally, I wouldn’t be good with that answer. I wouldn’t want some guy beating a woman for our sake, but honestly, I don’t care. The bitch went after my wife—and her friend.”
I know my cousin doesn’t include Tre as an afterthought, but he’s on edge about anyone targeting Toria.
I’m struggling to hide how much it bothers me that someone approached Tre.
After we dropped her off, Toria explained what happened.
I’m proud of Tre for defending them, but I hate she had to.
I couldn’t just walk into the women’s restroom to check it out, and had I knocked first, someone would’ve answered. Then I definitely couldn’t go in there.
But I should’ve gone in rather than pounding on the door.
I should’ve gone in when Tre didn’t answer me right away.
Toria said two stalls were occupied, but no one came out of the second one.
No one knows if the woman hid in there because of the fight or if she was with the woman and decided not to get involved.
I’m just glad it wasn’t two-on-two. I still believe Tre and Toria would’ve prevailed, but it would’ve been bloodier.
“I’ll keep looking, but I think it was a one-off. A shitty coincidence.”
Alejandro stares at me before he nods.
“Javier, what’s going on with the cease-and-desist order in Trenton?”
I change the subject because there’s nothing left to say.
I want to shift my thoughts away from Tre.
I’m proud of how she handled things. One of our guys described the woman’s injuries after he found her still passed out.
Tre didn’t look any worse for wear, and she was completely composed when she left the restroom.
I want to tell her that, but the date was such a bust she probably doesn’t want to hear from me again.
I abandoned her for the beginning of the movie after threatening her.
She surprised me by not demanding to go home.
Maybe she stayed for Toria’s sake. She didn’t enjoy the movie.
She barely moved throughout it, and she gave me back the popcorn.
It wasn’t to share. She didn’t touch it once she let go of the bucket.
She was far quieter on the ride home than on the way to the cinema.
I had the chance to make up for the dinner, and I ruined it.
I like her even more now, and I stand even less of a chance.
“Angelo is losing his fucking mind. It’s hilarious.”
Much like the Iglesias family in Boston is our vassal, so is the Mendoza family in Trenton.
Angelo heads up their construction company, and while he’s a great carpenter, he’s shit for a businessman.
He drives his father fucking crazy because he’s constantly fucking up build sites.
His father’s a fucking moron for letting his son run anything.
We have a mini-mall project down there that’s purposely beside a medical complex they’re building.
Angelo’s a shitty foreman and tends to not keep track of their equipment or raw materials.
He doesn’t notice when things go missing.
Because he’s constantly searching for tools and parts, he’s having to run his crew into overtime.
We conveniently own the high-rise apartments a block behind the two sites.
We’ve put in four noise complaints because they’ve started work before six a.m. and continued after seven p.m., the hours a construction site can operate in Trenton.
Now that the cease-and-desist order came through from the judge, they can’t build at all.
Their clients will sue them for breach of contract since they’re so far behind.
They’ll want to ditch los Mendoza and find a new company to do the build.
The judge we’re paying will ensure the company gets out of the contract, and we’ll swoop in to take over.
“I’ll make sure our bid is ready and comes in well under anyone else’s.”
I head our construction company, which I took over from Tío Enrique.
We all have multiple roles in this family, and we all own our own individual businesses.
But we have joint ventures too. The construction company falls under our broader venture capital umbrella.
It’s a large source of our legitimate income, even when it comes from some rather illegal means.
“And los Mendoza?”
I look over at Javier. “Keep tying them up in legal red tape. Do they have any other projects we can target?”
“No. Their accounting system is a dumpster fire. They’re in the red. They’ll have to sell off the equipment and lumber if they want to recoup even a quarter of their lost investments. You could offer for them under market.”
Jorge turns his laptop toward me, and I can see the spreadsheets he created.
He keeps track of all our rivals’ and vassals’ accounts.
We’re deeper in everyone’s shit than the IRS.
With my brother’s meticulous record keeping, we know where everyone’s money is, where it went, and where it’s going.
It helps having a Type A, Virgo brother who’s a whiz with numbers.
“Angelo never should’ve mentioned Mamá in that email to his brother. We’d have gladly ignored him and let him have his piddly project. Caremonda.” Face of a penis.
He mentioned Mamá and how he’d “tap that ass” in an email to his younger brother six months ago.
I about lost my ever-loving shit when I read it.
One might say that’s what I get for reading other people’s private correspondence.
Fuck that shit. No one talks about my mother like that and doesn’t feel the wrath of Tres J’s.
Javier wanted to burn him at the stake. It was Jorge who suggested we make the pain last longer.
We’ve been systematically ruining them, and they don’t know it’s us, and they don’t know why.
They’re too fucking stupid to realize it’s us, and we don’t give a shit whether they know why.
We’re having too much fun to share the secret.
“Quino, Vita just texted me. She and Tricia plan to have drinks with Sera after work. Can you accompany them until I can get there? I have a shareholders’ meeting until six.”
Alejandro’s the CFO of Pablo’s biotech firm. I’m the only bachelor. I’m pulling extra duties now that there’re so many more women in our family. Normally, I wouldn’t mind, but this… After last night’s disaster…
“Javier never goes anywhere, and Madeline’s at work. Can’t he do it?”
“What the fuck?”
My younger brother’s head pops up from staring at his monitor. We’re in his home office, and he looks ready to kick me out.
“You don’t have plans. I was going to see Mamá.”
“No, you weren’t. You just don’t want to see Tricia because you keep shitting the bed.” Javier leans back in his chair and crosses his arms.
“I haven’t seen Mamá this week.”
“You said you were going over there tomorrow night.”
I stare at Jorge, but he shrugs in that youngest brother kind of way before typing something on his laptop.
“When are you going to ask her out on a real date?” Pablo can’t mind his own business.
“Et tu, Brute?”
It’s Pablo’s turn to receive my glare. The fucker grins.
“As funny as it is to hear about you tripping over your own tongue, the poor woman won’t wait forever.”
I don’t need Pablo’s reminder that Tre’ll move on if I can’t get it together.
I want to ask her out, but the last two times we’ve been around each other, I’ve screwed the pooch so badly that I can’t imagine she’d want to see me again.
Maybe things would be better if it were just the two of us.
It’s not like we were alone at the reception, but no one else was around to make me self-conscious.
“I—”
All our phones go off at the same time. We keep our phones on vibrate all the time except for our family text thread and the alert if someone’s tracker goes off. It’s never good when more than three phones buzz at the same time.
“?Qué gonorrea!”
There’s not exactly an equivalent in English to the Colombian street slang. This time, when we all mutter it, we basically mean “fucking hell” or something along those lines.
“This has to be Misha.” Javier takes the words out of all of our mouths.
Fucking pissant Russian asshole.
Everyone’s probably thinking similar to that too.
Javier’s out of his seat and moving to the hidden closet in his office.
It’s like some shit out of Scooby Doo. A lock clicks, and he pulls a bookcase away from the wall.
He slides a door open to reveal a gun safe.
His fingerprints and retinal scan open it, then he’s handing out rifles to us.
He grabs his go-bag while Jorge and Pablo toss their keys to me.
Alejandro sprints outside with me as we grab the bags from the various cars’ trunks. My cousin and I are back inside in less than three minutes. Everyone strips down to their boxer briefs before donning our black turtlenecks, black cargo pants, and boots.
“It’ll take us at least forty minutes with traffic to get to the warehouse from the garage. I need to let Vita know she can’t join Sera and Tricia.”