A Long Short Way
“The fuck we going, cuz?” Viggo peered through the darkness.
They were on a single deserted road, with nothing but the beams from his headlights guiding them. Heavy hadn’t said much. Most of the drive, his arm was propped against the door while he occasionally ran his fingers through his beard.
“Just keeping driving. Stop at the first building you see.” When his phone lit up in his lap, Heavy glanced down to see he had a message from Giselle.
Princess: Made it home.
Heavy: Set the alarm. I’ll see you soon.
Princess: Be careful.
He kept flashing back to what he said to her.
Outside of his family, and even that was rare, he’d never told anybody he loved them before.
It wasn’t something he’d planned; it just rolled off his lips.
Not once did it cross his mind to take it back.
If he was keeping it a buck, the minute he laid eyes on her, standing outside in the rain all those years ago, she’d stolen a piece of his heart right from his chest. He couldn’t explain it.
He just knew he never got that shit back.
It was hard moving through life when someone else literally held a piece of you somewhere.
Every day he looked at Heir and Harlee, he knew that night with Giselle was meant to be. Nobody could tell him different.
Viggo approached an old, darkened building with one dim light on the bottom floor. Everything else was boarded up, but there were three big, black Suburbans parked in the shadows behind it.
“The fuck is this place?” He parked and skimmed the area, squinting through the darkness.
“Drop point,” Heavy said, pushing his car door out as the double doors swung open to the building.
It used to be an old factory that created parts for cars. Over a decade ago, it was shut down and had been abandoned ever since. The larger-than-life man who emerged, cloaked in a classic black Brooks Brothers suit and matching loafers paused with his hands in the pockets of his slacks.
“You must be Heavy.”
“Vo Westin?” Heavy checked, taking in his salt and pepper hair and full beard.
Vo was as old as Horace. The two of them did business back in the day, and Vo was a huge influence for Gregory Knox.
Viggo also got out and rounded the front to meet up with the two men.
He’d driven about forty-five minutes outside the city limits to arrive at this desolate location.
Nothing but trees surrounded them and the howl of the wind along with a few creatures that went bump in the night.
Heavy exchanged handshakes with the old man, surprised by his grip at his age.
Behind him were two Green Giant looking ass niggas in suits with their arms crossed, on full alert scanning the darkness.
“Horace talks about you all the time when we chat. He’s very proud of the man you’ve become, and what you’ve turned his legacy into.”
“This is my cousin, Viggo,” Heavy introduced.
“Ah, the hothead.” Vo chuckled, holding his hand out for Viggo to take as well. “There’s one in every family. Horace says you’re solid, though, just get a little distracted.”
“Viggo, pop the trunk,” Heavy ordered, leading Vo to the back of the car.
Alonzo lay curled up like a fetus, still unconscious too. A dark, chilling gaze filled Vo’s eyes when he looked at him.
“Normally, I’m the type of man to deal with my problems on my own so I know it’s handled. I don’t want this coming back on me or Giselle and our kids. But seeing as you delivered the critical information on your side, I’m willing to compromise.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about this coming back,” Vo assured him with a sinister smirk, lifting his gaze to meet Heavy’s.
“Where he’s going, not even the vultures will be able to get to him.
Alonzo has made a lot of enemies. Scammed a lot of people, left them with nothing while he went about his life.
Good people. Folks I know and care about.
” Vo snapped his fingers, and both of his men left their post at the door and joined them at the car.
“Get him out of there. Bird, give me the paperwork.”
The darker skinned guard with locs pulled back in a barrel style went into his inner pocket for a folded up packet of documents. He handed them to Vo, who opened them, skimmed the pages briefly, and held them out for Heavy to take.
“Alonzo crossed a lot of people. His offshore accounts were seized along with anything else in his name. Knox Interior Designs, the joint accounts both personal and professional between he and Giselle have been recovered. I’m associates with Esti’s father.
I sent a few of my men by to reason with her.
When they found out about the audit, she caved.
Confessed to everything. Those papers release everything back to Giselle, including the trusts she created for the children.
Paperwork was already sent to her attorney.
The funds will be reinstated within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours,” Vo explained.
“There’s something else there, a few of Alonzo’s financial records that might mean something to you.
Check the dates. I have them highlighted.
You do what you want with the information.
I just thought Giselle might want to have it for peace of mind.
I took Greg under my wing. He was like another son to me.
His loss is felt more than she could ever know.
” His men gathered Alonzo from the trunk, and he stirred.
“Where am I?” He peeked around the darkness and tried to pull out of the clutches of Vo’s men. “The fuck! Let me go!”
The more he fought, the tighter they held him. The brown-skinned guard covered in tattoos, eyes lethal, reached down to snatch Alonzo by the feet. The two carried him inside the building, screaming the whole way. When the doors slammed shut, silence was all that was left.
“Gregory and Grace Knox were killed on March twenty-fourth,” Vo noted, nodding at Heavy as he gripped the stack of papers in his hand and briefly glanced at them.
“Two men were contracted seventy-five thousand per body.” Grabbing Heavy’s hand, the two shook once again, and he turned to Viggo to show the same respect.
“You two enjoy the rest of your night. Oh, and one more thing… I come with reassurances. You’ll be hearing from me soon.
Tell Giselle I’m very sorry for her loss. ”
Vo took his time to the double doors, and Heavy nodded for Viggo to get in the car with him.
Once the two were settled in their seats, Heavy flipped through the pages of information before landing on a final record of Alonzo’s bank statements.
March twenty-fourth was highlighted with a payment of two-hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars to a foreign account.
Swiping his beard, he didn’t like the way the math was adding up.
“What’s wrong?” Viggo questioned.
“Vo said the contractors got seventy-five thousand per head.” Folding the papers back, he singled out the page with the highlighted date and passed it to Viggo.
Squinting at the paper, he double checked the numbers.
“That payment is for three.” Viggo looked up at Heavy, who was now seething with rage.
“Giselle was supposed to die with her parents that night.”
“Damn,” Viggo mumbled, watching Heavy’s eyes go dark.
“How the fuck I’m supposed to tell her that? She married this nigga. He raised my kids with her. All so he could get close to her and take everything because he failed the first fucking time.”
“So, don’t tell her.” Viggo started the car, and Heavy’s head swiveled in his direction. “I’m just saying. She’s already been through enough. You really want to put that on her?”
“You think she wouldn’t want to know?”
“What good will it do?” Viggo tested him. “She’s been trying to move past this and raise your seeds. What if you telling her this puts her in that dark place again?”
Heavy heard him. Like the situation with Prischa and Kina, the shit was another weight added to the load he already carried.
Could he look Giselle in the eye, knowing what he knew and not tell her?
Was Viggo right? Did it really matter now that it was all done?
Alonzo wouldn’t be alive to reveal the truth, so who would that really harm in the long run?
The entire drive home, he debated on his decision until Viggo pulled into his driveway and parked.
“Thanks.” Heavy reached for the door handle.
“Heav… I know this don’t erase nothing—”
“Clean slate, cuz. I ain’t got time to carry that with me too.” Heavy shook his head and climbed out. “Just do me one favor. Take care of her. Don’t play with her heart,” he warned. “She don’t deserve that. I’ll see you at the block party tomorrow.”
Viggo honked when Heavy used his key to let himself into his home.
It was dark except for a lamp lit in the living room.
Hair wet, in nothing but one of his t-shirts, sipping tea from a mug, Giselle sat on the leather sofa.
The minute he entered, he disarmed then armed the alarm and tossed his keys onto a chrome legged table beside the door.
Giselle didn’t budge. Sighing, he kicked off his shoes and went to join her on the couch.
He paused in front of her, and her glossy eyes found his.
“What’s wrong?” Heavy kneeled. “The kids okay?”
“They’re sleeping,” she whispered, sniffling and taking a sip from her mug.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head.
“Why you sitting here looking like that?” He joined her on the couch and pulled her onto his lap.
“I was just thinking.” Giselle leaned forward and set her mug on the table. “A lot. Prischa said some things on the way home. I know I shouldn’t have let them get to me. She was purposely pushing my buttons.”
“What did she say?”
“You really want this, Huey? Like us? Me and you?’ Giselle searched his eyes, hoping to find the answer there.