Chapter 30

Remy

First things first. Shower. Breakfast. Set up appointments for haircut and try to find a place to buy a tuxedo with so little time left.

It’s gonna be fine.

Of course it was. He knew the owner at Rudd’s, one of Chicago’s premiere suit rental places.

He called him and it was settled, he’d go there at nine and by two they would have it tailored for him. It would cost him and arm and a leg but he didn’t have to worry about that, so he bought peace of mind, too.

He was on a roll. Everything was going positively perfect.

One thing in his mind, though. Tonight I tell Mr. Crawford who I am. No more hiding.

After choosing his tux, he went straight to his house. It was ten thirty now. What was he going to do all day?

His phone buzzed. He took it out and saw there was a text message in it. His father.

“Don’t forget to bring wine.”

Shit.

He forgot. He checked his cell phone, yeah, it was today. God damn it.

They had this tradition. Every first Saturday of the month the family got together for lunch. It used to be dinner but someone always had something going on so they changed it.

It was at two. He’d pick up his tux and eat, then leave just in time for the gala. Easy shit.

Thunder rolled in the sky and the drizzle turned into a soft pour. In the distance, dark clouds gathered, a storm was coming.

He shrugged.

“No more hiding, whatever it takes.”

***

Rain poured hard. He turned into their parent’s front garden and found his spot occupied by Conner.

It was really his own fault for being late.

He grabbed his umbrella, the plastic bag with the groceries —and wine— they asked him to bring, and the tuxedo inside the bag.

He looked up on the windshield to see if the weather was getting better but come on, this was Chicago. It wouldn’t get better.

He opened the door and ran to the house.

“Hey!” His mother said once he was in, then kissed him on the cheek, “I thought you weren’t coming.”

The delicious smell of homemade pizza and pasta filled the house. His stomach grumbled audibly, his mouth watering in an instant.

“Sorry, mom. Traffic.”

“What’s that?”

She pointed at the bag protecting the tux.

“Bought a tuxedo, I’m going to a gala later on today.”

He didn’t want to dabble too much into it, so he passed beside her into the living room. The big window on the back of the house let plenty of light in.

Afternoons like this made him remember the old days, when he was still a kid. Easier times. His father was almost never around, unlike today.

He retired from the day-to-day operations of the business, but he was still the head of the organization.

“Where’s dad?” He asked.

“Talking to your brother, upstairs.”

“Have they been there for a while?”

“Like half an hour or so.”

Another thunder rolled, deeper this time.

“Oh my,” his mother yelled, “this is getting bad.”

“What do you mean?”

“The storm, honey. It’s going to be a bad one.”

He walked upstairs, to the hall. He hears the muffled voices of his father and brother, talking to his left, inside the office. Before he went inside, he hung the tux on a perch in his old room.

The office door suddenly opened, and his brother walked out with his hands in the air, frustration overcoming him.

“So that’s it, we hold back.”

“That’s what I said,” Ed said behind him.

“They’re getting stronger and stronger and we sit down and wait for them to come take us out?”

“Conner, don’t be naive. We wait for the opportunity to strike, we don’t fight it out, guns blazing. That’ll make the feds turn their eyes on us.”

Remy stared at them in silence. Conner sighed and then saw him.

“What the fu—?”

He turned to his father, shutting up before he finished the sentence, then back at Remy.

“You’re a ninja now?”

Remy smiled.

“You’re getting old, that’s all.”

“What’s up little brother. You missed the meeting.”

“He missed nothing,” his father said, “you’ve taken too long to act, son. It’s been months.”

“Our shipments are getting fu—” he stopped again, “delayed. The Crawford’s are using their influence to get them checked on the interstate. No weapons or substance coming in for another week.”

“What’s the news boy?” His father asked, “Conner here wants us to go on an all-out war.”

“Just show them what we got,” Conner said, “let them know who they’re messing with.”

“You need to be smarter, son,” his father replied, “you can shoot gangbangers on every corner in Chicago and it wouldn’t make a dent in their business.”

“So what are you saying? We go for—”

“We let them get comfortable. We let them lower their guards, then take off their heads.”

Conner smiled, taking it in, then began to nod.

“Shit, dad. You’re ruthless.”

“Watch your mouth, this is still your mother’s house.”

“They’re powerful,” Remy interrupted, before his brother could apologize.

His father and brother stared at him.

“They’ve been moving big shipments. Truckloads of them. They have contacts in the police. Probably someone even higher up in the government. And their people are trained.”

“How do you know this?”

“I’ve been doing some research.”

“So we have to move fast,” his brother said.

“Our main source of income is dope. But it’s becoming problematic.”

“So what are you saying?” His father asked, “You want to take them out now?”

“I’m saying it’s a miracle they haven’t come take us out. We should be thankful.”

Edward Morgan, head of the organization, squared up, fire spitting from his eyes, his fists balled so hard the knuckles were white.

“We should be—”

“We got comfortable. We lowered our guards. Now they’re here to stay.”

“You’re insane,” his brother spat.

“The amount of money they launder is ten times ours. That’s per month. They have us by the balls. They know we can’t do shit.”

Silence. The empty fury of his father stared at him.

“How do you know this.”

“I just told you.”

“How the fuck do you know how much money they move?”

Remy didn’t reply. Julie had a loose tongue, and talking about how much money the art pieces were worth during all the time they were together let him complete the puzzle. They were powerful. Very powerful.

The Crawford’s bought and sold art through intermediaries, creating a false demand that let them move the pieces at high prices.

“I’ve heard things. They move all kinds of stuff now. Including weapons. In and out of the country. Chicago is just a hub for them.”

“We still have the territory,” his father spat, “we need to move fast then.”

“And do what? Try to kill them? You just said you didn’t want to start a war.”

“We kill Charles, once and for all.”

“Is it worth it to you to risk the entire organization for a personal vendetta?”

His father gritted his teeth.

“That’s what you think this is?”

“We’re doing well. We have the territory. Chicago is still ours. We can make a deal. It benefits us all.”

“A deal? Are you out of your mind?”

“Are you willing to kill us all because—”

“Because they killed my brother!”

“He was doing what you’re trying to do now!”

His father went silent, his face tense, his eyes bulging. It was dangerous to talk now, but Remy didn’t care. He needed to say it.

“Uncle Richie tried to bite more than he could chew. He broke the truce back then. You think we don’t know that? Do you think we’re stupid? If he wasn’t your brother you would’ve gotten over it the second it happened.”

“Gotten over it?”

His father stepped forward. Was he going to hit him? Remy squared up, but kept his guard down. He could take a few punches from the old man. But he needed to hear the truth first.

“It was a mistake that cost him his life. They did what we would have done. It was business.”

Ed raised his fist, blind with rage.

“Guys,” Claire said from the first floor, and everyone looked to the stairs, tension still high in the air, “come down, food’s ready.”

His brother talked first, trying to ease the mood.

“Who told you that? Is he reliable?”

They couldn’t understand how the world worked today. They were stuck in the old ways, that’s why they had to deal with this problem in the first place.

That made them weak.

But at the same time, he wouldn’t have met Julie if it wasn’t for their mistakes.

I’m the one who should be thankful.

“You hear all kinds of things down on the docks, you would know if you hung out with the people there. But you’re too good for that.”

A thunder cracked in the distance, rain began to pour harder, rattling the windows.

“Come down boys,” his mother yelled from the first floor, “the food is getting cold.”

No one spoke. The tree of them looked at each other like rivals.

His father clicked his tongue, “let’s go downstairs, sons, don’t make your mother wait.”

Remy could finally breathe. His father was stubborn, but not stupid. That’s part of what made him who he was right now.

Other people would have said he was implacable. But it takes your own kind to see the bad side of it. He bit his lip. He should have given him a break. But shit needed to be said.

God knows if someone killed Conner, he’d be angry, too. But would he be able to forgive?

Was his father willing to?

He knew right then the answer was no.

He wanted blood. Things would have to end in tragedy for him to be at peace.

Maybe, with time, he would understand.

Remy walked the stairs down to the dining room. They sat in silence. Nothing else needed to be said.

***

The rest of the afternoon was pretending nothing had been said. Claire, his mother, knew something was up, and Remy was sure she heard the worst parts of the discussion, but she was a conciliator at heart.

She talked about food and the family, told stories about them, when they were kids, about how they’ve had it rough but always came out on top.

In short, she defused the situation, making them focus on the things that mattered. They would come back to talk about the issue, but the tempers had been tamed.

“Are you showering here, son?” She asked.

“Yes. No time to go back home with all this traffic.”

“Where are you going?” Conner asked.

“A gala on the Hillside Winery, had to buy a tux.”

His father stared at him, but didn’t say a word.

“Damn,” his brother continued, “I haven’t wore a tuxedo in a long time. You going with Mark?”

He hesitated.

“He’s going with a girl,” his mom said.

Remy tensed up.

“How do you—”

“Son, I know everything,” she interrupted, “and you should see yourself.”

“I should see myself?”

“You’ve been distracted, happier, less moody,” she replied, “not that I’m complaining, of course.”

“So,” Conner said, “my brother is finally getting married?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Is it serious?”

He shrugged.

Everyone was looking at him, completely interested.

“Holy crap,” Conner said, “it is serious.”

“Give me a break man, I’m—”

“If it wasn’t you would’ve said so already.”

He nodded, the grin on his face made him look so stupid he almost punched him.

“Are you telling us her name?” His father asked. The way he asked seemed… off. He wasn’t teasing him, more like, daring him to say the name.

“Julie.”

His father fixed his eyes with him, then nodded.

“Julie who? Do I know her?” Said Conner.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You have to bring her over, I’d love to meet her,” said Claire.

“We all do,” his father said.

“Maybe I will.”

Remy stood up and grabbed his plate.

“Leave it son, it’s fine, go shower, it’s getting late.”

He looked at his watch. She was right, as usual.

“Thanks mom, it was delicious.”

He walked upstairs, the look in his father’s eyes never leaving his mind. I have to be careful. They can’t know the truth until the Crawford’s know who I am.