Chapter 4
Pressure
AURA
“When she go back inside, put the car down,” I told Pryce.
“Doing that as we speak,” he said. “Send that seven thirty.”
“Seven hunnit and thirty dollars, nigga?”
“Yeah, nigga. A hunnit for every minute. I was out here for seven minutes and thirty seconds. I’m on the scene, I’m charging.”
I chuckled. “This nigga really charging family.”
“Hell yeah. This wasn’t no emergency, nigga,” he replied. “Consider it an inconvenience fee cause you know you wasn’t taking that girl car no way.”
I leaned back on the couch and swiped my hand over my face. “It was a warning.”
“Nah. That was you showing yo’ hand.”
“Never that. Just me reminding her that I’m omnipresent.”
“You know you could just tell her that you love her. The same way you tell the rest of us.”
I paused for a second. “This is different. Danae ain’t ready for all that yet.”
“How you know?”
“Trust me. I know. I’m content loving her from a distance for now and applying pressure when it counts.”
“Aight, lover boy ass nigga.” He scoffed. “If you like it, I won’t question it.”
“You don’t even like people, so I don’t expect you to understand.” I laughed.
“Could give a fuck about ‘em.” He snickered. “Send that bread, my boy.”
When he hung up, I opened my text thread and sent Danae a message, letting her know I wasn’t sorry and to let me know when she was home, so I could have food delivered.
Of course, she said she wasn’t telling me shit.
I laughed, expecting nothing more than that.
Exiting the messages, I opened the DoorDash app and proceeded to search for the Japanese place she liked around her way.
Don’t ask me how I knew her exact order when I got to it.
It was my job to know. Adding the order to the cart, I planned to wait until the tracker showed close to her building before submitting it.
As I went through the prompts to double dash her dessert, I could hear my grandmother’s slippers before she entered the living room.
“You wear her down yet?” Grandma Lettie asked with a smile that warmed my heart.
“You eavesdropping, G?” I joked.
“In my house? No. I listen with open ears and clear intentions.” She sat down across from me in her favorite chair.
I chuckled. She’d been listening intently since I was a child. And nobody dared to call her out on it cause Grandma Lettie had rank and pretty much did what she wanted to do.
My grandmother’s home had always been my place of peace.
I’d lost my mother to suicide at thirteen, and Grandma had been my saving grace.
She was my father’s mother. Under her roof, the weight eased.
As the matriarch of the Sullivan family, she was the keeper of our secrets, the balance in any chaos, and the rider whenever we needed her.
Grandma Lettie’s home was a sanctuary. So, when my days were long and weeks even longer, I found solace in her living room.
She had a way of making me feel like things would be okay no matter what the situation was.
Sometimes, there were small decisions to be made like what property made sense to invest in, where to move money, and who to delegate tasks to.
Then others were heavier – whose luck had run out and needed to be put down, who to trust and to what extent.
Those decisions followed me every day. Grandma’s crib was where I sought clarity the most.
“Right,” I replied, sitting my phone in my lap.
“I’ve been listening to you conspire the whole time I was in the kitchen. That’s why you came over here today?”
I smiled. “I come here every chance I get just to breathe and hang out witchu, lady. You know that.”
She studied me before breaking out in a small grin. “And to think about that girl.”
“I think about her every day,” I said unashamed.
She nodded. “This I know. I still remember the night you called me about her. I knew then that she had cracked open a part of you that you’d long ago closed off.”
I knew it too.
I still held onto the first face to face encounter I had with Danae at the diner.
I remembered the turtleneck she wore in the heat, making it obvious that she was hiding something.
Then there was the bruise on her wrist. I knew that me pointing it out may have thrown her off, but I didn’t believe in holding my tongue for anyone, especially when pointing out something I felt was a problem.
I gave her a few words of encouragement before going about my business, but I didn’t forget her face. In fact, I got her name from my sister.
That night, I called Grandma Lettie and asked her to send a special prayer up for Danae.
I asked her to pray over her situation and that whatever person or thing that had been causing her pain be removed from her life.
And then, I asked that she pray that once Danae was free and whole again, she’d save the most sacred parts of herself for me.
Grandma didn’t question my why; she just said, “Okay, grandson.” I knew it was as good as done.
“I’ma marry that woman,” I proclaimed.
She stood, pulling her housecoat close. “I believe you, grandson. There’s a step before that though.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“Get her to at least go on a date with you. You over here having cars towed and shit like that’s romantic. You ‘bout as crazy as yo’ damn daddy.”
I laughed, and she walked over to kiss my cheek. “I’m gonna head to bed. I love you. Lock up when you leave.”
“I love you too, G. Good night.”
My phone buzzed in my lap as she left the room.
Sullivan Business: Delivered.
Nodding, I got up and grabbed my coat. It was time to get back to work.
The ‘delivered’ message was one I’d been waiting on since I touched back down in the city from Tulum a couple days ago.
A weekend business trip turned into a week of negotiations and an unexpected partnership that was very beneficial to me and The Sullivan Family.
Sliding behind the wheel of my Lamborghini Urus, I sped out of my grandmother’s development and made my way into the city.
As I hit ninety on the highway, I glanced out my window at the bright night sky.
New York moved like it belonged to me. In a lot of ways, it did.
I was Aura Sullivan. If the way I showed up didn’t tell you anything, my name alone said enough.
My family’s name carried weight near and far.
Respect, loyalty, and money moved throughout generations long before I settled in my father’s nut sack.
I’d been carrying the torch as the head for the last eight years.
Before me was my father, before him, Grandma Lettie, and before her, her father. This shit was in our blood forreal.
Each line had made the organization more sophisticated than its predecessor.
For eight years, I’d been keeping everything together and running smoothly – quiet when it needed to be, loud enough to where we weren’t just heard but felt when necessary.
We were good people at heart. A family full of business owners, investors, builders, and givers alike.
And at the same time, our underworld operation was stitched into our bloodline, one that people whispered about.
I drove into Brooklyn where the Sullivan Distillery was located, a place where tourists often toured and private events were held when we weren’t busy making and packaging the finest spirits to be exported all over the country.
One would never know what other goods were imported and held in the brick building.
I pulled into the lot, and security was posted up at the doors.
Glancing up at the roof, I spotted one of my shooters in their designated position.
Parking in my reserved spot, I got out and walked up to the entrance. “What’s good?” I spoke to the guys.
“Wassup, Aura?” They both greeted, dapping me up.
“Drop off went well?”
“Yep,” King, the head of security for the distillery, spoke. “They dropped at the dock. We cleared everything, and the crew is handling the rest inside.”
“Good looking, King.”
He opened the door for me, and I entered the building.
Inside, warm lighting cast over the entire upstairs.
Polished concrete, exposed brick, and glass separated the space where patrons mingled from where the machinery to make the alcohol was operated.
Upstairs was open to the public for people to celebrate, drink, and pretend they understood the craftsmanship, all while having no idea of the full operation that lived beneath their feet.
Bypassing the tasting floor, I headed straight for the private elevator behind a door labeled ‘Security Only’.
A scan of my fingerprint got the elevator moving.
Downstairs was a stark contrast to the liveliness from upstairs. The air was cooler. The lights were bright, but there was no music or ambiance. Just people at work.
“What’s the word?” I asked my cousin, Kyiris, who stood at the end of a long, stainless-steel table that was stacked with product labeled by section.
There was coke, pills, weed, and my most recent add on, guns.
Key lifted her head from the iPad and nodded. “We’re right where we need to be. Inventory matches up with the order. Taylin and Jay are in the back organizing what’s there, and then they’ll start putting this away.”
“Alright, cool.” I shrugged my coat off and hung it on the wall. “Lemme see what you got.” I kissed her cheek while taking the iPad from her.
“This a lotta shit, Aura. Good thing I’m always on my A game and a stickler for detail. You ain’t give no heads up about this.”
“Yeah. You know I don’t like to speak on anything until plans are fully executed. Besides, you can’t stay on your toes if I let you know everything in advance.”
“Mmhmm. You just love to do that secret squirrel shit.”
I snickered. “That too. Everything looks good.” I handed her back the iPad after making sure the counts were exact.
Taylin and Jay emerged from the back, laughing amongst each other. They were my younger cousins. Both were responsible for distribution from the distillery.
“All is well?” I confirmed.
Jay looked up when he heard my voice. “You know it.”
“You took quality to another level, cuz,” Taylin added, both walking over to dap me up. “You seen the switches on these Glocks?” He picked up a Glock 19 and marveled at it. Like Enzo, he was a gun connoisseur.
“Yeah. They did they shit.” I scanned the table, examining product.
Used to my routine when shipments were in, they worked around me. I didn’t cross check inventory because I doubted them. I trusted my family and their abilities. Still, true leadership meant presence.
I watched as they worked for two hours. Product was packed away by area of distribution to make for a smooth pickup process. We moved discreetly and under the radar to make sure things got done in an orderly fashion. It was the Sullivan way.
“Aight. We good to go,” Jay announced once the table was cleared.
“Yes. I wanna go home and soak in the tub,” Kyiris said, placing the iPad in a safe and locking it.
“Oh, today is shower day?” Jay joked.
Kyiris turned around with a smile. “Yeah. And smack a silly nigga day. You can’t do one without the other.”
I laughed. They always found a way to go at it whenever they were around each other.
“Lemme walk you to your car, Key. Y’all shut it down here.”
“Got you.” Taylin nodded. “Night, y’all. Love.”
“Love y’all too,” Key said, walking toward the elevator. I grabbed my coat and followed behind her.
“Love.”
We got in the elevator and stood on opposite sides.
“Did you get the email I sent you?” she asked.
“What email?”
She rolled her eyes. “The email for the “Will You Be My Boo?” Valentine’s Day party that I’m throwing.”
“Nah. I didn’t.” I opened the elevator door once it stopped.
“You lie so damn bad. Anyway, it’s gonna be on Valentine’s Day, and you can’t say no.”
“I swear when it comes to these events, you think you run everybody. Like nobody can say no.”
She shrugged and twisted her lips. “Ooookay. Is that your way of RSVP’ing?”
I burst out laughing as we made it outside. “Man, Key, that’s not what I said.”
She loved to throw a party. If there was a celebration to be had, best believe Kyiris was having it. It was her shit outside of the many roles she played in The Sullivan Family organization.
“Alright. Well, Danae coming. I wonder if she has a Valentine.” She opened her car door and leaned against it.
“She do. It’s me. You ain’t gotta wonder ‘bout shit.”
Now, it was her turn to laugh. “Oh, okay. Check your email, nigga. All the deets are there.” She got in her car and threw up the peace sign out her window as she drove off.
Shaking my head, I got in my car and checked the tracker app to see where Danae was. According to the app, she was parked home. Navigating to the DoorDash app, I submitted her order.
Me: I ordered your food, Ma. Only nigga dime you get to eat on is mine.
Exiting the text thread, I pulled off and headed home.
Pressure didn’t have to be loud. It had to be felt.