Chapter 130.5 Knowledge Drop

Bobby’s POV—Day 1

I leave Tank in the gym, contemplating the size of our organization, and follow Lucia to her office. Day one of the review is going well and I’m looking, searching, for something to ding NYC on. I haven’t found anything yet. Everything I see says that Les made the right decision leaving Javi in place each time.

This branch has rebounded.

Lucia unlocks her office and I follow her in and take a seat at the small table she crammed into her prep room. I see how Lucia is working on the office paperless initiative. Her office is unremarkable, a place clearly used to process receipts and paperwork. Her fax machine is overflowing with solicitations and her printer contains coupons to clip, but the scanner is whirring sheets of paper through at a fast clip. Otherwise, there’s nothing personal in this office, nothing that says Lucia!

I search my memory for info on Lucia. Divorced, two daughters who live in Miami. “No pictures of your girls? Or your grandchildren?” The ex-husband on his third stint in prison for domestic violence. Les and I like to keep an eye on him. Lucia once told Les that working for RangeMan taught her that not all men were violent. Learning to defend herself made her feel strong and powerful again, something she tried to pass onto her daughters.

Learning Lucia flipped a Miami RangeMan did not surprise me or Les in the slightest. Lucia took back her power and no one would ever disrespect her again.

“They’re in the prep room. I like to see them while I’m cooking.” She walks back in with two lattes and hands me one. I take a quick sip. Two percent milk, no sugar. Lucia always gets it right (I’ll never tell Miss Rose that she’s off slightly. Hers is very close). She pulls her chair, a big executive leather chair, over to the table and slips off her shoes. I remember she has occasional hip problems and make a mental note to ensure she gets a bone density test. She’s probably close to that time again.

She’s been staring at me calmly. Of all the housekeepers, Lucia is the one I like most. Her mood can flip on a dime, like mine, but she’s saucy. Fun-loving. I like Miss Rose, but she reminds me too much of my mother sometimes. I feel this innate need to rebel that I can’t understand.

“I’d like to put this on a personal basis right now Bobby, not employer to employee, if that’s OK with you.”

Oh shit. Last time I heard those words, the conversation ended with ‘Get a grip,’ so I’m a little hesitant. “OK …”

“I want to talk about you.”

Surprising. “Me?”

“Yes. You.”

“OK, what did I do?”

She smiles and concentrates on her latte for a moment. I feel twitchy. If you need to talk, talk. Extended silences make me nervous, unless I‘m controlling the conversation.

“It’s not what you did. It’s what you do.” She stands slightly and turns on a white noise machine that’s in the center of the table. “For privacy,” she says, smiling at me.

Oh hell. I like this setup less and less.

“Let me say that I get it. I understand. You’re a man who holds himself to rigid standards. You expect excellence and you demand it. The military way. The Army way.”

Oh. I smell the direction of this conversation, which will end in a plea for me to take it easy on someone. I get it at least once a year. Ella’s stopped giving it. Ms. Rose never bothered; she completely agrees with me. I mentally sigh and prepare for it.

“I’m not going to argue with that because you’re right.” I blink. Well, that’s a change. “I agree with you.” She smiles. “The military men here, knowing that they can keep those high standards is a relief. No one will think they’re weird for it. For the ex-cons and ex-bangers, it’s a standard to raise themselves to.”

“Exactly. If you have a record behind you, you will never get the benefit of the doubt ever again. You’re guilty until proven innocent and the assumption will always remain that you’re involved somehow.”

She blinks, caught off guard. I feel a small amount of relief. First flanking maneuver: successful. Conversation is mine for the taking.

“Right. So I get it. I won’t argue with you.”

“Thank you.”

“However—”

“I knew it,” I mutter.

She laughs. “However, I’d like you to consider the effect your disapproval has on the men.”

I slump and cross my legs. This is a new take. “What do I need to know?”

“That in advance of your arrival here, Teo counted every Q-tip, cotton ball, cotton pad, bandage, tube of Neosporin, shall I continue?” I shake my head. “That’s how paranoid you make the men under you. ‘Mommy’ doesn’t leave room for mistakes.”

“Seriously? ‘Mommy’ made it all the way up here?” I’m going to kill the RMSA men for that.

She laughs. “Yup.”

“You aren’t intimidated by me.”

She arches a brow. “I could be your mother. You will never intimidate me.”

“Lucia, you are too young and too saucy to be my mother.” She giggles. “You could only be my mother if you got started very early.”

“It’s still possible.”

I laugh. “Just for that, I’m going to try to intimidate you.”

“Good luck.” We smile at each other. “What I wanted to ask, Bobby, is that you communicate with the men.” I raise a brow. Very new take. “Teo had no idea what to prepare for so he rode everyone. Every man is wondering if you’ll break tradition and spring a health assessment on them. The men are nervous. With you, Ranger, and Lester here, the pressure is nothing they’ve ever known. You’re a legend to the new men and watching you work out this morning?” She smiles saucily. “All I’ve heard about this morning is how cut all of you are. All of the men are intimidated.”

“Remember, I’m old enough to be your son.” She rolls her eyes. “This is a new variation on Cut them some slack.“

She sighs. “Yes.” She drains her coffee and puts the cup down, tracing the handle with a finger. “Like I said, I understand. You hold everyone to the same standard you hold yourself. At least, I thought I understood until you said the men will never have the benefit of the doubt again. That’s when I remembered that you’re right.” She smiles ruefully. “They won’t, will they?”

I shake my head. “No. No matter how much good they do, no matter how they reform, the world will always see an ‘ex-offender’. They don’t have room for mistakes. For the new men here, like those Wall Street vets, it’s a reminder that in the real world no one is going to pay to make your mistakes go away, so try to get it right the first time.” I relax. Survived this conversation again. “But you feel I’m not communicating with them?”

“Well …” She looks uncertain. “I wanted to address this after watching Teo count Q-tips. That seemed extreme to me, like counting spaghetti.” I nod. “But doing inventory? That’s appropriate.”

I’m thinking about what she said. Perhaps I should have called Teo and let him know that a health check was not in the cards. I’m here for the office review, not a health check. I’m not putting anyone through the paces this week.

I grab an index card and write a note. Something to consider. “I could have told Teo I had no intentions of doing a health check, but the point of this review is to put your office in order. For me to give the men any indication that I will or won’t do something may give them an unfair advantage. Don’t want that.”

“Good point,” she murmurs. She’s quiet for a few minutes. “Do you think you’re infallible?” She looks like she’s asking that seriously.

I bark a laugh. “You’re kidding me, right?” I smile at her. “I fuck up as much as the next person.”

That causes her to giggle, then laugh, then the tears stream down her face. “Well, I never expected you to say that!”

“Why?” I’m grinning.

“Because … because …” she shrugs. “Doesn’t seem like you.”

“Why?” She’s quiet but smiling. “Look, I come from a family where making excuses is unacceptable. My family believes in the constant quest for excellence. Nothing less is acceptable, so there are no excuses for mistakes. No one wants to hear it.”

“Sounds … demanding.” She shakes her head. “No, honestly, that sounds ridiculous. No one can live with that level of pressure.”

I snort. “I disagree.” I grab her coffee cup and head to the counter. “Look, this is going to sound …” I can’t think of the word, “conceited maybe, or like I have a huge chip on my shoulder, but I’m a black man. I’m a black man in America. I’m a suspect.” I refill the cups and return to the table. “I was born with a one in three chance of ending up in prison and I hear the words ‘post-racial’ and think ‘Trayvon’. We are a long way from post-racial. The men in this company? Fifty percent of them made one wrong decision and they’ll never have benefit of the doubt ever again.”

Lucia nods solemnly, a tear making its lonely way down her face, and adds creamer to her coffee. We sit quietly for a moment before I wipe the tear away.

“My parents? They didn’t play,” I tell her quietly. “No excuses because one bad decision, one mistake, and you could end up doing 8⅓ to life, assuming you kept your life. They might have ended up burying me. Their money, their prestige, none of that matters when you’re lying in a coffin. That’s not what they wanted for me so they rode my ass.”

“I understand,” she murmurs, wiping her eyes.

“Do you?” I smile wanly. “My mother told me that her job was to prepare me to be an adult and if that meant I didn’t like her, she was OK with that. Her job was to be my parent, not my buddy. Not my friend. Because of that, I love and respect my parents. My mother worked hard to ensure her children understood that excuses?” I shake my head and smile. “No one ever wants to hear them. You failed. That’s all that matters. Elite athletes, politicians, businessman, you don’t give them excuses. Anyone who makes it to the top of the game does not get there or stay there by constantly saying ‘It’s not my fault!’ or ‘See, what happened was—’. You produce. Self-esteem comes from success, not pity.

So the men call me Mommy? Look at my example!” She laughs. “Mommy rode my ass. Mommy didn’t want to hear excuses. Mommy knows that success makes a man feel like a winner, not sympathy. I believe in every man we hire. I believe that they’ve made a decision to bring their talents and skills to RangeMan and they just want a chance. They want someone to believe in them and I do. I give them my trust and I give them one chance to screw up. You screw up and we’ll talk, but I don’t want your excuses. I want your assurance that you’ll never make that mistake again.”

She nods. “So when you tell me that Teo was paranoid and nervous about my arrival, what I hear is that Teo wants to make sure that he’s continuing to meet my standards. He doesn’t want to lose my trust and belief in him. He knows what I expect and he knows that I won’t accept an excuse. So when I examine his area and report that the in-house medic continues to keep his high standards, he’ll have the success he earned and my continued trust. I give the men what I got and I’ll bet that if I walk into that infirmary right now, I won’t find anything out of place.”

Lucia looks poleaxed. Good; I’ve successfully avoided someone else trying to get me to lower my standards yet again. “No, you won’t,” she says quietly. “Teo’s cleaned with a toothbrush.”

“That’s Tank’s fetish, not mine,” I reply, winking at her. She finally cracks a smile. “The men knew I was coming so I’ll bet that every single one of them can pass a health assessment right now. I’ve looked at them. I’ve checked the records in RangeWorld. I’ve talked to Sarah. I’m satisfied that Teo’s watching.”

“He is. He doesn’t want Mommy to ride him.”

I chuckle and finish my second cup. Lucia was right on time with this. Perfect pick me up.

“Look, I don’t think I’m infallible,” I state quietly, staring into the cup. A quick glance shows Lucia’s watching me steadily. “I screw up as much as the next person and I do hold myself to the same standard I hold the men to. I try to determine what happened and why. Learn from it. Try not to make the same mistake twice. Perfect example, the housekeepers.”

She stiffens. “Us?”

“Yes.” I sigh. “This past year, watching all of you battle the Miami men, I realize that my performance overseeing the housekeepers was sub-par. Maria should not have had to go through what she went through in Miami. Ella and I have been correcting our mistakes, reviewing contracts and I planned to meet with you and Miguel, but I don’t have any excuses for that. It’s inexcusable. ‘Mommy’ screwed up.”

“Yes,” she says quietly.

“Right. I’ve acknowledged it. I’ve talked with Maria and I’ve apologized to her.” Lucia’s eyebrow shoots up. “I’ve talked with Ella. Ella and I put new procedures in place and I’m sure you’ve felt an impact.” I end that as a question and watch as her eyes light up.

“RangeWorld?”

I nod. “New reporting guidelines, new review guidelines, and more communication between all of you and me. Having Maria out in San Antonio for a month reminded me of how hard the job is and I missed her the moment she left. I had Ella for four years. Everything ran like clockwork in Trenton but when I was in San Antonio without her, I realized how vital each of your ladies is to this company.”

Lucia chuckles as I kiss the back of her hand. “So yes, I felt the impact too. The Miami office hasn’t because they don’t have a housekeeper, but if and when they get one, they’ll feel the impact of the new regulations and Ranger is behind it 1000%. So we acknowledge the error. We put new processes in place and every single member of the Leadership Core felt the impact of the housekeepers and their anger, whether you think we did or not.”

“I had no idea,” she says, smiling. “I never knew that you were … that you were already addressing it. Had addressed it.”

I stand, smiling. “That’s military men for you. When we screw up, we don’t spend days and hours apologizing endlessly and pledging support, unless we’re in front of Congress and they’re reaming our asses.” She laughs. “Acknowledge the mistake, issue an apology if needed, figure out how to fix it and start fixing it.

Now, don’t get me wrong. We’re still human. We close the door and bitch and moan and pass the buck like anyone else”— she laughs harder—”but in public? We own our mistakes. In the meantime, put some actions in play. If the men want to know why the LC never seems to make mistakes, that’s it. We make mistakes but what we don’t do is spend days and hours wringing our hands, apologizing and talking about it. Talk is cheap. We put our butts in gear and fix it.”

—oOo—

Mack’s POV

My phone beeps at 1530.

Meeting with LC and CO in Les‘s apartment. 1900. I asked Doobie to babysit; he’s cool—Javi.

Thanks, partner. I turn the phone off and leave it in the truck before hustling across the parking lot to the building.

I sign in, thinking ’bout everything I heard today. I heard they hung Les out of his window, dick waving in the wind. Boys on night shift said it was major, a once-in-a-lifetime sight! It’s all anyone’s talking ’bout today. This naked man, our boss, the trickster, screaming like a little girl cuz his boys hung him upside down in the freezing cold!

Man, I wish I’d seen that!

Les told us it might happen and that it was tradition, but man, I didn’t believe him. He laughed and dropped that wisdom on us again yesterday as we sat with him to prep the payback.

“Yo, what keeps the brotherhood tight is not just being there when one of us is down. It’s stupid shit like this.” He tapped the battle plan we had in front of us. Les already had his payback ready. “Tradition. Having fun. Joking around. You four will always have the Upper West Side party.” We grinned at each other. “Getting ready for it and learning Drake’s got ticklish feet and an obsession with his Man Card.”

He flipped Les off and Les flicked water at him.

“You got in because of Jorge’s knowledge of the scene and Javi’s ability to lead in an instant. Those two feed off each other without thinking about it.” They bumped fists and yelled ‘TREMONT!’ Drake and I flipped them both off.

“Keeping a low profile but making an impression because of Mack’s skin.” Everyone clowned me for a minute. “That’s what keeps a brotherhood tight. In-jokes like that. Yo, Mack, you have ’em with the men in your recruit class.”

“Levi bein’ too pretty to fight at the club,” I replied, smirking.

“Exactly.” He leaned forward and tapped that battle plan again. “Yo, the LC is the same. We have in-jokes. We have traditions. We have stuff we get together and do because it keeps our friendship alive. I fully expect them to hang my ass out that window tonight.”

“And you’re going to sleep?” Drake asked, brow raised.

“Hell yeah! I’m not letting them ruin a good night’s sleep. They might not do it tonight. They might wait for another night. This tradition is based on catching me off-guard. In return, I dish out payback and they watch their backs. Hec’s the new player. It’s the first time I’ve had to plan for him too.”

He turned to me. “NYC? I love being here. You see the brotherhood runs deep here. It’s in all the little things you guys do for each other, the fun you have in this building. Trenton is just like this. They play practical jokes on each other all the time. That fun?” He smirks. “Offices under me have it. I plan to spend more time in Boston, get them to loosen up. They’re too much like Ranger, too serious.”

Drake starts laughing. “Man, ATL is like Bobby. Serious on the face, fun when you aren’t watching. We’re laid back. Barbecue, good music, having friends over. That’s ATL.”

Les nods. “Right. RMSA?” He shakes his head. “What comes to mind when you think about Tank?”

Fucker don’t say shit. I look at Javi; he’s looking at me. We both grin. “Tank doesn’t say much,” Javi says.

“But?” Les looks amused.

“He’s Ranger’s back,” I add.

“Right. RMSA will have your back in a heartbeat. They’re the branch that’ll pump up your self-esteem and put you back on track, but RMSA is all about the rules too. They know the rules.”

“Sounds like Trenton,” Javi says.

“That’s Tank’s influence on Hal,” Les replies. “Miami?”

Everyone looks at me. I cringe. Les waves his hands. “Don’t think about Tony and his crew. Think about the rest of the men, like Mario. Peeps you’ve known for years. Thomas. Your cousin is in leadership there.” He turns to Javi. “Mando and Diego. You had Diego here for months. You’ve known Mando for years.”

I consider this. “Yo, Miami peeps were pretty cool. Nosy as fuck.” Les snorts.

“Blunt,” Javi adds, looking thoughtful. “Diego’s blunt but he’s truthful. So is Mando but Mando is supportive too. Patient. Both of them are.”

“Yeah, I agree. Thomas is definitely patient. Mario was truthful. Miami men, they’re all about getting to the bottom line.”

“No lipstick on the pig,” Drake says quietly. What?! We look at him like, Yo, explain. He shrugs. “Means, don’t pretty that shit up for me. It’s still a pig.”

Les leans back and nods. “Sounds like Ranger? Blunt, truthful, supportive, get to the point? Drills for the facts and details? No piece of info too big or small? Don’t lie to me, don’t shade the truth?”

Javi and I glanced at each other, surprised. “Yeah …”Javi says slowly. “Yeah, that’s Ranger.”

“Right. At its best, that’s also Boston, right?” He stared at Javi, who nods slowly. “Ranger’s influence on Mark. Each office reflects the LC member at the top. Each XO reflects the LC member they report to.”

Javi laughed. “You think I reflect you?”

“I do.” Javi stopped laughing. “You’re the master of the three-ring circus. Insanity all around you and an office that’s leaping ahead, but you lead it. You know the ground. You know NYC and how to read this town.” He leans forward. “The ball game? I want you to trust yourself, your instincts, but call on others around you for help. I always do. Bobby’s job is to help me keep my head on my shoulders and watch my back.” He pointed at me. We smiled. “It’s also to find the holes in my ideas. Ranger’s job is to take my info and move on it, but to also give me room to wiggle.” He pointed at Jorge. “Tank’s job is figure out when I’ve reached a limit and to keep me grounded.” He pointed at Drake. “Hec reminds me of normality, of the importance of family and friends and taking time to get away from everything because Hector’s number one is his son. That’s Monica’s place in your life. Now, still don’t think we have anything in common?”

Damn. We were all silent. Javi was looking at Les in slight shock. I think we all were.

He turns to Drake. “You might be in NYC leadership now, but there’s a small part of you that will always consider itself an Atlanta RangeMan.”

Drake smiled. He’s still adjusting to NYC. Finding the clubs with Levi helped and he joined my athletic league. I think he’s starting to get a little play too, but Drake’s a mystery. He keeps his real quiet.

Les turned to me. “You may transfer to Miami. You may run Miami and love it, but your heart will always be with the brotherhood here. When you need something, NYC will be your first call because this office made you a RangeMan. No shame in that. Just make sure that when you go to your new office, you take the brotherhood with you. You aren’t leaving it behind. You’re extending it to a new office.”

He folded the battle plan in front of him. “Most of all, you’re from NYC. Take the fun with you. Those fuckers have forgotten how to have fun. I’ll be there with you. We’ll get wild.”

“I don’t know if I can hang with you.”

Les laughed. “Step one, we go get pretty.”

—oOo—

1600. I’m in a waiting room in a plastic chair. I just got here and I’m ready to go. I can feel myself sweating, my palms getting damp, just sitting in this chair. Yo, this was my worst stint in prison, the six months I thought me and Yala wouldn’t make it, and just bein’ here, breathing this air, is making me flashback. I glance out of the windows at freedom.

I said nothing would ever make me step back in here and here I am.

Only reason I’m here is to see the man who kept me sane while I was here. I treated him like shit, didn’t wanna talk to him, didn’t want to acknowledge him, but he was there for me. He spoke to me when we were on the yard, kept it up until I’d speak to him wherever we were. I’d look at him and think Where were you when I needed you? But he taught me to stop thinking like that. Yo, he was there right then and I needed him. That time, at least, he was with me when I needed him. I left here on better terms with him.

I’m here because Mamí sent a message three days ago: He needs to talk to you ASAP. All Les’s questions yesterday had me thinking, so I decided to stop putting this trip off. I dipped out when Ranger and Steph started their tour of the floor.

“Mr. Odom?” Bugs looking at me, so I stand. “Thought I recognized you. You clean up well.”

I nod tightly, tense. “Yeah.” I pull my license so he can process me in and he starts checking paperwork.

“Thought you’d never set foot in this place again. Your words.” I get my license back and he waves for me to follow him.

“Yo, I’m on this side of the bars, son.”

He snorts. “Good to see you’re not interested in returning to our residence.”

“Never warm enough, son.” I’m trying not to shiver. “Yo, what’s the temp in here?”

“Warm enough that the good taxpaying citizens of the United States aren’t worried about our heating bills.”

“Just the medical ones.” Just moving down these hallways, I feel like Imma get a cold. Damn, I hated this place and the wind comin’ off the river is hell in winter.

“Yeah, you stayed in the infirmary.”

“Yo, I was here for six months, son. How do you remember so much about me?”

We’ve stopped outside the visitation room. “Father-son duo. It’s not unheard of but you and your Pops were a special case. Madero and McKinley Odom? Female guards couldn’t take their eyes off either of you.”

Oh. Well, I got that swerve from Pops. No lie. Bug sounds jealous.

I follow the bug into the Sing Sing visitor’s room and sit. Two honeys check me and I nod. They turn away giggling. I’m one of three men in here. Everyone else is women and kids and calling the other two boys ‘men’ is a stretch. One is early teens. The other might be in his early twenties and both are squirming away from the women next to them. Probably their mamí‘s.

We hear a shuffle and the room starts filling up. I watch the door, looking for Pops, but I don’t miss at least four fuckers I know. I don’t acknowledge and I hear ’em sucking teeth.

Yeah, fuck you. I’m not coming back in here. I’m enjoying freedom, pendejo.

My Pops finally shuffles in. He’s last and he’s moving with a slight limp. I stand, nervous, but the look on his face makes me slam my blank face in place and straighten up. Weakness gets you killed. Pops gives me the slightest look of approval as he shuffles over to me.

“Mack.” I get pulled into a tight hug.

“Pops.” I shift so his weight’s on me for a minute, to give him a moment to relax.

“Hey! Hey! No touching. One hug in, one hug out. Break it apart, girls.”

I roll my eyes and shift Pops into the chair before taking my seat. Pops looks good but he ain’t young no more. He musta just got outta seg cuz he’s pale and stiff. His gray eyes are watery as they settle on me.

“Thanks for coming, son.”

He sounds tired. I nod. “You said you needed to holla.”

“Yeah.” He takes a deep breath. Looks painful. “First, yo mamí tells me you got a promotion?”

“Yes, sir.”

He smiles at that. “Congratulations, son. Good to see you make good on the come up.”

“Thanks. I work for good peeps.”

“So I heard.” His smile dims. “I need you to listen. Aigh?” I nod. “I been asking round. I heard you went legit, heard you made good. That’s good. Don’t do shit that’ll put you back here. Got me?”

My back stiffens. Last thing I need is lectures from Pops but I think that on that wisdom Abuela dropped on me. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. I get out in six months. I contacted the bug from my last stint, told him I wanna do mine in Florida. If you move, I’m coming. You out, you clean, and you doing it big. I called Miguel, told him my plans. I get out, he’ll give me a job and help me keep my nose clean, just like you did.”

I smile, but I’m nervous. I hope he means it this time. Then again, Tío Miguel is to Pops what Thomas is to me: primo and bro. If Tío Miguel is backing him, he might make it this time.

“What about Moms?”

For the first time ever, Pops rolls his eyes. “Over.”

“Over!?” I hiss. “Pops, she held you down—”

“Really, son?” Pop’s face looks tired and sad. Stressed. I’m shocked cuz that’s my face, the face I made all the time, when I was with Yala. “Yo, I know what yo mamí be up to, son. Fuckers come back in here talkin’ ’bout how they fucked my wife and you think I don’t hear about that?”

I think I stopped breathing for a minute. “I … shit, I never thought about it. Why’d you stay?” I thought they loved each other. I thought it was tight. I mean, seeing Mamí hold him down, I held that in my heart. I knew she was putting that swerve out, but … when Pops got out, every time he got out, Mamí was right there for him. He was still her king.

Damn, Imma dumb fuck sometimes. Course the boys came back and told him. That shit had to be humiliating too. I woulda been.

Pops raises a brow. “Why you stay with Yala, son?” My mouth drops (mentally). Pops takes a deep breath and it rattles in his chest. Is he gonna make it six months? “Mack, you realize this is the first time ever that you’ve come to see me when I called you?” Shit, he might be right. “When you were here, you told me you’d never call me Daddy. Pops might be the best I get and that hurt, son. It hurt because you was right. I’m not your Daddy. I was never there and I didn’t have shit I could say to that.

I fucked up, son. I fucked up but what I didn’t do was stop loving mine. You it. I don’t have any other kids, just you, and I might not have been there but that don’t mean I didn’t care.” I’m biting my lip, trying to keep my cool. “You and me, if you speaking to me now, I don’t need to put up with yo mamí’s shit to see my son. Your mamí was my way of keeping up with you and I was loyal to your mamí, but she puttin’ it out there. Fuck it. I slanged for your mamí but if she can’t keep it tight, I’m done. You can put that on mi nietos.”

The shame is burning through me. I wanna apologize and explain, tell him I love him, I’ve looked up to him for years. Yo, if Pops swallowed his pride and stayed with Mamí to get to me, I owe him so much more. He put himself through hell just to stay in contact with me?

I am my father’s son.

Shit. I wonder if Abuela wanna move with me. I need her around for common sense sometimes, to see what I miss.

Pops ain’t said nothing but he been watching. “It’s done, son. You here now. You talking to me?”

“Yes, sir.”

He snorts, amused. “Yes sir and no sir at your job, huh?”

I manage a small smile. “You know it. So, Mamí? That’s done?” I still don’t believe it.

“Done, but that’s not what I wanna talk about. Yo, I’m glad to hear you keeping it clean. You need to listen.”

Pops starts filling out what he’s hearing in the prison news and my jaw drops again. Now all of Les’s questions make sense. Damn! What is Les’s network?

“So they think that I’m a traitor? That I sold out the block?”

He nods. “Yeah. You got out and never went back in but in less than five years, you on top again. They think you held onto major paper and you got more. Maybe you waited until no one was watching, then you started balling. They don’t know but they wanna know. NYC? Jersey? Reyes got cleaned out. Barely a yellow flag to be found and you was the highest one to go down. Only Tomás left. So how that happened? You got a light sentence too. Thirty months? As big as you were?” Pops grins. “Mijo fucking ran Brooklyn and you only got thirty months? Nah, son. You cut a deal?”

I can barely breathe. “No! Thomas paid for my lawyer,” I hiss.

“Tom-Tom?” Pops leans back and strokes his chin. “OK. Now I see why Miguel is nervous. Tom-Tom still in the moving business?”

“Nah. He got out when I went down. I’m not connected like that anymore.”

“Who is?” Pops raises a brow. “Talk to whoever can get the word off the streets, son.”

I hold up a hand and walk over to the vending machines. I grab a Pepsi for me and raise it. He nods so I get another for him. We pop the tops and sit back, thinking.

Pops leans forward and fingers my suit jacket, smiling. “What is this? Cashmere?” he asks, doing the voice from Coming to America. I crack up. “Nice suit, son. Fits you well. You dressing smooth all of a sudden. Driving big bodies, hanging out with Wall Street boys. They think you got that connection, son, through work, and they want in. Your boss is known as one of us in the streets and now you got the white boys on tap? If you still slanging on the side and that’s what’s bankrolling you, they want in.” He smiles. “You were always known for not bein’ flashy, for your Tim kicks and that Acura, and now you driving new SUVs and wearing expensive suits? What happened to the money the Brooklyn Incas, the NYC faction, were supposed to have, son?”

“I don’t know! I don’t have it.”

Is that what the fuck is up? I don’t have that money! I make good for me and the boys and a little to put away! I didn’t hold back like that! I know hustlers on the block. If they think I got that money and they can’t find it … Fuck! No wonder Les wants me out of NYC. I’m dead man walking.

Me and Les? Time to talk. He gotta tell me what’s up.

“You did thirty. How Yala survive?”

“What I had, she got it then.”

“She spent it slow. Or did she have a choice?”

“I mighta had a backup in place.” Yala was never really good with money.

He laughs quietly. “I thought you did.” He sits back in the chair, thinking. “You got access to the top?” I nod. “Tell them they need to look at Hector, el Asesino.“

“Got access to him too.”

Pops’ eyes widen. “Verdad? Then you and him? Y’all need to talk. You got something in common and someone wants both of you.”

“Kevin.” He blinks, shocked. “Yeah. I talked to Lester. Me and Hector have Kevin and Tomas is common.”

He frowns and finishes his Pepsi. “I don’t think you were the real target, son, but they pulling you in. No matter what, that money went missing and someone’s got it, son. Someone’s got it and they’re framing you, through Yala, for it. I thought that might be what’s up.” He leans forward. “Imma get yo mamí to break Yala. You make plans to get those boys to Miami—”

“No damn way Yala is gonna let me move the boys, Pops. None.”

Pops sits back, a cold stiffness in his gaze. “She will.” Ice cold. I suddenly don’t doubt that Mamí will break Yala. “Make your plans. She’ll sign the papers, son. Trust. Yo mamí will come through.”

“Aigh. I’m taking the boys to Miami for Christmas. We leavin’ Friday. You want me to bring ’em by to see you before we leave?”

Pops face twists into something ugly before he shakes his head. “No. Hell no. Don’t you ever bring them here. I wanna meet my grandsons in freedom, not behind bars. Bad enough they gotta see their Mamí in a fucking cage. You, me, their mommy, too many relatives and they’ll start thinking this shit is normal.

Nah, I’ll meet ’em when I get parole. When I’m free. When no one can tell me I gotta stop hugging them or you.” Pops swallows hard. “Be careful, son.” His voice breaks and I see a tear in his eye. “Watch your back and be careful.”

—oOo—

1810. I drop in on Doobie and Kass, his wife, to check on the boys on my way back to work. I need my boys. I’m still shaking. I grab ’em and hug ’em tight and Kass closes the door behind me, to give me some privacy with ’em. The boys wiggle.

“Daddy! You’re hugging tight!” Med says, breaking free.

“My bad,” I reply, ruffling his hair. Midi sticks close but Med heads back over to the Xbox.

“Mommy OK?” he asks, his voice wobbling a little. Med looks over quickly, concerned.

“Mommy’s fine. I just wanted to hug my boys. What? Daddy can’t hug his boys?”

“Yeah, but you were squeezing, Daddy,” Med says. “Yo, we might have to move to that side hug, son.”

My boys. I swear, Imma piss myself laughing at ’em. I ask about homework and they get back on it. Midi asks when we’re leaving to go see Mommy and they’re surprised they’re not going to see Mommy today, but I tell Med to start a letter for her. We’ll go see her on Wednesday (maybe). Midi pouts, but he gets a piece of paper and gets started. He opens the door and goes looking for Kass, for help with his words.

Kass walks in and gives me a hug. “Yo, Doobie’s depressed.”

“Cuz I’m leaving?”

“Yeah.” She smiles at me. “I’ll babysit the boys one night. Go get my man drunk and tear up the clubs with him.” We walk into her kitchen where her daughter, Kassie, is sitting at the table staring at a piece of broccoli.

“Don’t worry. I got something planned for him.” I kiss the top of Kassie’s head and she giggles and tries to feed me part of her broccoli.

“Good.” She rolls her eyes. “I swear, he’s been acting like he’s about to lose his left nut. And you know that’s his favorite nut.”

I leave, laughing.

—oOo—

Accident on the FDR. Fuck. Imma be late. I text Javi and he tells me to hustle. Being late is not good.

I pull out every slick driving skill I got and still get there ten minutes late. Javi, Jorge, and Drake are waiting on the sixth floor in Javi’s apartment, looking nervous.

“Sup?” I pant. I ran from the garage up all six flights.

Javi looks at me. “Take a quick shower and change into your other suit, bro. I think you have some time.” I hear the shower already going.

I’m stripping while Jorge pulls my other suit out of Javi’s closet and gets a suit-tie combo together for me. “How’s the review going?” I ask, stepping into the shower.

“Smooth so far,” Javi says. “They look impressed by everything. We’re thinking we’ll pass.”

“Don’t kill yourself, Mack!” Jorge yells. “We’ll make excuses if you’re late.”

Fuck that. Ranger is here. Being much later than I am is not an option. Man’s already checked me once today. I get ‘pretty’ in record time and hustle back into the living room. The guys look and Javi nods in approval. “Looking good, partner.”

“Thanks.” I feel better too. Prison leaves a … something on you that only a good shower will remove.

“Your skin looks … dewy,” Drake says. Fucker tries to hold a straight face but he can’t. They laugh while I flip ’em all off.

We stand inside the door, watching the door to Les’s apartment. Two minutes later, the Boss Lady opens it and our jaws drop.

She’s in a dress. Dark blue, tight and strapless, she’s looking fine as fuck. Full makeup, heels, and big hair. I’m glad I took that shower and got fresh. Boss Lady is looking like anything less woulda been a serious insult to her, she’s lookin’ that fine.

“Come in,” she says, smiling. I’m last in and I close the door behind me and offer my arm, remembering Caro. We smile at each other and I escort her into the apartment.

The entire LC is present, in tuxes. There’s soft light, music, and champagne in ice buckets. I smell something really good. Les walks over, grinning.

“Gentleman, welcome to your congratulations party!”

—oOo—

Les was not joking yesterday. The LC brought in a private chef to make our meal. I feel big and humble. Man, this is … I don’t even know what to say.

“Thank you,” I say to Ranger, when I get near him. He’s sipping on the champagne and watching everyone. Les and Javi are laughing with the Boss Lady, Drake and Bobby are talking, and Tank and Hector are listening to Jorge. Homie’s probably pressing to get more stuff in RangeWorld. I grin; He has a list of things he wants.

He refills my champagne. “Excited about coming to Miami?”

“Yes, sir. If I can work it out with my ex.” Me and Yala? That shit is through. I wonder if now is the time to tell him.

“Yes.” I look over at him. “Whatever you need to tell me, now is the time.”

“I probably need to tell Les too.” I turn to look for Les.

He merely gazes at Les and Les looks up and around, searching for the signal. He walks right over.

That shit is scary.

“Sup?”

I tell them what Pops told me today and they look at each other. Some signal passes between the two of them because they each look grim. Ranger looks around and Hector joins us. I retell the story again, in Spanish, and Hec nods.

“Got it. I’ll follow up,” he says.

Ranger nods and Les and Hec leave us. I’m stunned by the power Ranger puts off. Man, Brooklyn never had an Inca like that. I’ve never seen raw power on the streets like that.

Range snorts. “From all I’ve heard, you ran the streets like that.”

OK, his ability to read minds is scary. I purse my lips, wondering how much I’m giving away.

“Not much.” He smiles. “I know that look when I see it.”

“See it a lot?”

“More than you’d think.” He walks over to the ice bucket and grabs a bottle. “My branch needs strong leaders in charge when I’m not around. You and Thomas? Good combo.”

“Mando still XO?”

“He is.”

I’m trying to keep my face neutral. I know Thomas told me not to sleep on Mando, but still … hard to have respect for a man that let his mamí beat him up like that.

“Just remember.” I look over; Ranger is sober. “You don’t know a man’s troubles until you’ve walked in his shoes. Your cousin respects him and I placed him as XO.”

“Yes, sir.”

It’s true. Ranger can read minds. I sip my champagne (aigh, I’m clearly not high-class. Gimme me a 20oz Pepsi and I’m good) and remember what Mando looked like when we found out Tony drank that milk. Mando was ice-cold about it. He had no love for his cousin and didn’t care that Thomas mighta killed his ass. I’d still be in a bottle if someone killed Thomas.

“I’ve heard a lot about your work here in NYC. Good job. I also heard about your hustle in Miami while you were there.” I smile. “I’m looking forward to having you in Miami.”

“I’m ready to hustle.”

“Good.” Ranger grins and I smile. It’s a grin that says ‘Trouble’. “I’m tired of Les swinging his balls in my face. Time to take his ass back down. I have a plan and you and I should talk about it.”

Serious?! Me getting time with Ranger?!

This has been my fucking year!

—oOo—

Javi’s POV

Mack’s laughing with Ranger. I’m glad to see it. I excuse myself from Tank’s presence to go grab some champagne.

“Javier.”

I grab a bottle and switch direction to Ranger. He nods at Mack and Mack walks off, still smiling. I take Mack’s spot and refill Ranger’s glass then mine. Jorge’s been grinning. He flashed a two, so this is $200 a bottle champagne.

I’ll never taste anything like this again, so I’m sipping slowly, to enjoy every drop.

“Ranger. Thank you, sir.”

He shakes his head in silent amusement. “Everyone’s thanking me tonight. This is a party to celebrate NYC, Javi. Thank you.” He lifts his glass in salute to me. “So, watching your back?”

“Hal and Danny send me nasty notes daily.” Ranger’s shoulders shake. “Mark and Mando?” I shake my head. “I don’t dare read their emails and Diego’s reminding me this won’t last long.”

“Your response?”

“Good fucking luck, boys. My team beats your team all day every day.”

It’s the new NYC slogan when other branches talk shit to us: ‘We can beat your ass all day. Every day. Bring it.’

Ranger throws his head back and laughs. All conversation in the room dies as everyone looks over. I sip my champagne. Man… I wonder if I should splurge on a bottle of this for my wedding. This is good stuff. I usually don’t like champagne but now I see why people drink it.

Les’s apartment looks great. The lighting was turned down low, the music is soft and jazzy, it’s lit by god only knows how many candles, and the caterer is starting to set the table and pour the wine. Les asked us what the branch might like for a celebration dinner and we said steak, so the guys are having T-Bones and all the trimmings tomorrow. Every man. I can’t wait to see their faces. Lucia’s thrilled. Les said he’d cater every meal tomorrow, so she and Miguel can enjoy with everyone else.

The LC definitely rewards the men. The guys are getting pancakes and eggs for breakfast, a ‘make your own’ sub sandwich buffet for lunch, and steak and potatoes for dinner. I can’t wait to see their faces.

Ranger waves his hands and everyone returns to their conversations slowly, still looking over to see what we’re smiling about. Ranger turns to me, his smile fading.

“I know I said this months ago, but I do apologize for not heeding your call, Javier. You needed my help and you didn’t get it. I’ll never make that mistake again.”

“Thank you, sir,” I reply quietly. Even a second time around, the apology still soothes.

“So, what does NYC need right now?”

“Honestly?” I stand up straight. “I need another Mack-type here.”

He raises a brow. “Not advocating to keep your partner?”

“No sir. I’d rather see Mack leave and go to Miami than die here in NYC. I don’t know what’s up on the streets, what’s going on, but I’m starting to hear rumors that Mack’s a target.”

“On the streets?”

“Yes, sir. I’m still tapped into the lower Bronx. So whatever is going on, I know he needs to leave. And honestly, I want to see him leave. I’ve met his ex and she’s nuts. His boys deserve better.”

“Noted. So NYC needs a street hustler?”

“Yes. Mack’s skill at shaking down the streets is unparalleled. We think we may elevate his old partner, Doobie, to the spot Mack held but …” I think of a way to say it. “I need a partner I can trust. I like Doobie but Doobie is the right partner for Levi. I need someone to balance me.”

“Jorge?”

“I don’t want to have Mando’s problem. He’s told me not to do it. Diego was his partner and he’s going to lose both a strategist and a partner from Miami.”

Ranger looks thoughtful. “What if we gave you a brand-new RangeMan, someone we think is promising as XO material, that you could mold for NYC?”

I consider this. “Assistant XO and a partner?”

“Yes. Bobby, Les, and Tank like this person. Excellent people skills, excellent process skills, gifted thinker, and someone to hold the fort. Another person who is serious about the brotherhood and could help you make decisions quickly.” He smiles. “Apparently, this person’s mouth is such that Les despairs of teaching him to be sly, but he has a wicked sense of humor. And he’s a former Marine. You don’t have anyone who served in your leadership besides yourself.”

Thanks, Ranger, for respecting my Guard service. He sounds promising. “Sure, I’ll take him. Name?”

“Gonzo. Martin Gonzalez.”

—oOo—

Les’s POV

Bobby looks twitchy, although he’s trying to hide it. “You OK?”

He nods, unable to hide the misery for a moment. “Yeah. Think I ate something dodgy, though.”

I grin inwardly. You did, RB. While you were watching the Sriracha, I laced your water with magnesium citrate. I glance at Tank and Hec. They also look twitchy. Ric, of course, barely looks fazed but a quick glance in his eyes tells me he knows what I did and he’s amused.

I’m wondering who will make a run for my bathroom first.

Ten minutes later, Tank slowly edges his way out of the room. I watch, amused, as he disappears from view. Five minutes later, when it’s clear Tank’s not returning any time soon, Hec leaves the room, muttering that he’s going to check in with Matias in the server room.

Ranger doesn’t make any excuses. He simply puts his champagne glass down and heads to my second bathroom. I look over. Bobby’s figured it out.

“I hate you.”

“I put soft toilet paper in every bathroom in the building.” I grin at him and dangle my keys to Javi’s on-site apartment in his face. “Don’t let your dinner get cold and don’t leave Javi any fragrant gifts.”

Bobby leaves, gifting me with a SBD on his way out.

I laugh and look at NYC Core. They’re grinning with me. Steph looks confused.

“The caterer is ready to start serving.”

I take her arm and head to my table. “Then let’s not keep her waiting.”

—oOo—

Mack’s POV

The big bosses are missing one hell of a dinner. There’s a something I don’t recognize wrapped in bacon for an appetizer and it’s on an Asian soup spoon. It’s delicious but weird. Les tells us later it’s prunes. My butt clenches at the thought. Me and prunes are not cool. Butternut squash and apple soup is next and I peep the cream soup spoon off the bat.

I finally got those damn soup spoons down! Helps that there was only one soup spoon on the plate too. I look over and Javi, Jorge, and Drake are all hiding grins.

“Cream.”

We crack up. Man, Les was right. We’ll always have that dining etiquette dinner, with Levi and Doobie spittin’ game to Andrea for me and me tryna figure out those damn spoons. Another thing I’ll always have with my NYC bros.

The Boss Lady looks confused so we tell her the joke. She stares at her spoon.

“You mean, there are different kinds of soup spoons?” She shrugs and puts hers down. “A spoon’s a spoon.”

I look over at Jorge and Javi. “What. The. Fuck?” Javi shakes his head and grins. Les disappears and reappears with a fork. I examine it. “Seafood.”

“Not a fish fork?”

“Nah.” I hand it back. “Fish fork is two inches longer.”

“Good call.” The Boss Lady’s trying to raise a brow and I shake my head at her. She rolls her eyes. “This sounds like a dinner I wish I’d been at,” Les says.

“Classic,” Drake says. “We had food, wine, and entertainment.”

A tiny salad with crab and a lemon vinaigrette is followed by a lemon sorbet. This is starting to feel like another dining test.

“Yo, son, no one’s gonna quiz us when this is over, right?” I ask Les. Javi and Jorge crack up.

“OK, explain that one,” Steph says, her eyes bright. I tell the Boss Lady about the eight course meal and she and Les laugh. The LC finally start making their way back to the table.

“No quizzes on the silverware,” Ranger says. He’s been watching me all day and, I mean, I’m not nervous but Ranger makes a man nervous, know what I mean?

The caterer brings the main course, filet mignon and lobster with rice pilaf and asparagus (Javi shoots me a look; I pick it up to eat it, grinning at him the entire time). The LC is peering at everything on their plate and we’re trying not to laugh.

“Yo, it’s cool,” I tell ’em.

They look at Les. “You can eat in peace.” He grins. “Only one of you has the delicate little stomach.”

Bobby flips him off. “I’m lacing everything you eat with extra fiber. Believe me.”

“Looking forward to it. Everyone needs more fiber in their diet.”

We keep eating and convo switches to the plans for the kids, starting Wednesday. The Boss Lady’s sister is allowing her girls to miss three days of school to hang out with their auntie in NYC. Me? Med and Midi are taking their butts to school. They get out at 1430, so we got plenty of time to go do stuff before they gotta be in bed.

“I called MA and Angie last night. They’re so excited. My sister is overpacking, as usual, and I told her that the girls will have a great time. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Got tickets to everything, Steph?” Ranger asks, taking a small bite of his orange soufflé.

She nods, looking at his dessert all sad and pitiful. She sucked hers down in no time. Ranger looks at her face, sighs, and turns the spoon to her to have his bite, then splits his soufflé with her. Every man shifts slightly when she moans.

Hec laughs. “So domesticated,” he mocks. “She’s stealing your food and painting your homes.”

“And she wears his clothes,” Les teases. The Boss Lady turns bright red, bits of sugar clinging to her lips. I motion for her to take care of that and she licks her lips. “What’s next?”

“Rings,” Tank says. “Ooops, she’s wearing one” he smirks, lifting his glass to his face.

I check. Ring’s on the wrong finger. “Yo, that’s on the wrong finger.”

“Anyway, Annie’s looking forward to her trip to the Rockettes,” Jorge says. The Boss Lady flashes him a grateful smile and even Ranger looks slightly relieved. “I promised to take her to the Russian Tea Room too, for afternoon tea.”

“Going to allow her to order in Russian?” Les asks, hiding a smile.

“Absolutely. I even picked out a tie to match her dress. Daddy and daughter date.”

“One moment. I think I hear Disney at the door,” Drake mutters.

Every member of the LC laughs uncontrollably, slouching in their seats, wiping their eyes. Jorge tosses a napkin at Drake. “Become a father. You’ll see how important that moment becomes.”

“Yo, I’m not hating. I think it’s cute. I mean, I don’t know any daddies who do that shit,” Drake says. “And what would Caro say about your appalling lack of manners? Napkins are to be folded and placed neatly to the side of your plate if you have finished your meal.”

“That is the rule,” Javi says quietly, hiding his face.

Ranger wipes his eyes and turns to Les. “Yeah. NYC? All you, primo. All you.”

—oOo—

Steph’s POV

This is, by far, the most fun meal I’ve ever had. The guys joked on each other all night and, for at least two hours, it felt like just a bunch of guys sitting around a table sharing a meal, not the chief executives and the local management.

It truly felt like a brotherhood.

Of course, I also spent half the night ready to climb Ranger because he was playing with my knee under the table. It was either the dessert or putting on a show for the men. He caught the look in my eye and gave up half of his dessert.

The meal finally ends and we drift back into Les’s living room. I’m not exactly excited about sitting on one of Les’s ‘modern art’ pieces of furniture, so I’m standing in front of the window, looking out on the park, when Ranger comes and stands behind me.

“Come with me.”

“Hmm?” He pulls me onto the hardwood and we stand and sway to the soft jazz flowing through Les’s apartment. Ranger’s holding me close and smiling at me and I’m red-faced and embarrassed because everyone else is pretending not to notice.

“Thought you didn’t like to make a scene.”

“Which one is going to talk?”

Good point.

“They’ve already teased us tonight and you’re wearing my ring. I think the cat’s out the bag, Babe.”

“Oh? In that case …” I pull his head down and kiss him softly, nibbling at his lips, before sliding my tongue in his mouth. I slide closer until you couldn’t get a breath between us and kiss Ranger like there’s no one in the room. I kiss Ranger as if sleep is irrelevant and my only source of oxygen comes directly from him.

“Aigh, son! Get it!” Moments later, “Should I be insulted that he flipped me off?” That was Bobby.

“How much do you think I could sell the video for?” Hector asks. I feel a flashbulb and flip him off. “I‘m hurt, partner. Really hurt.”

“I guess I need to check for clean sheets on the bed,” Les says.

“Mañoso. Tuck it back in,” Tank snickers.

I didn’t understand most of that (except Hector’s) but Ranger lifts his head and smiles.

“Let’s see. Single, single, single, engaged, engaged, single, single, single. And I’m the only man here with his woman by his side. Which reminds me—“

“Ready to go?” he asks, smiling down at me.

“You’re coming?”

I get that slow Ranger grin. I hold out my hand and my purse suddenly appears.

“Great party, Les.”

“Yes, I can tell by your eagerness to stay that I should throw more parties like this in the—”

The door closes behind us and we get in the elevator.

“Midtown?”

“Yes.”

“They valet?”

“I think so.”

Ranger raises Les’s BMW keys. “We’ll find out.”