Ruthless Monarch
We continue to drink, and the conversation is lighter after that. No more talk of war or killing my wife.
An hour later, it’s time to leave.
Like always, we take multiple cars. This time, unlike the last time, I’m in the middle one. I like to switch things up. That way, if anything happens, it’s harder to get to me. Seeing as no one knows of this location, I’m sure I’m okay, but you can never be too safe.
When we pull up to the port, we pull into the toy warehouse.
As far as warehouses, this one has never been under any scrutiny.
“Do you ever feel weird that we are stuffing drugs into a teddy bear?”
“No,” I respond to Roberto. It’s a lie. I hate this shit, but until my cousin is out of the picture, I need to keep dealing this crap. I can’t risk my cousin taking over and becoming even more powerful than he already is.
It still sucks to have to hide it in something meant for a kid. Luckily, there is no risk of this getting into the wrong hands.
The toy factory no longer sells stuffed toys to real stores. It’s one hundred percent only selling our pieces, so there is no room for confusion with shipments. It’s merely a front.
“We sell a product that for all intents and purposes shouldn’t even be illegal. In some states, some of the shit we sell isn’t. Coke, weed, pills . . . if someone wants to get high, let them. Fuck, weed is legal in half the country, even Oregon just decriminalized heroin and cocaine.”
“That better not happen here. It will kill our profit margins.”
“If it does, we’ll be fine.” And we will. We have our hands in multiple pots. Drugs are only a small component.
Protection. Gambling. Loans. These are my moneymakers.
Drugs are something I’ve been trying to get out of for a long time, but until I do, I have to put up with this shit.
Soon.
“Listen, we might be stuffing a teddy with molly, but at least we don’t sell women.”
That is my argument to myself. I don’t like the drug aspect, but it has always been a part of my family business. In order to change that, I would piss a lot of people off within the family from the loss of earnings.
I’ve spent the past three years since my father’s death doing just that.
My goal is to be out within five more.
When the car stops, I get out. “How much longer?”
“Tobias said the boat should be coming in within fifteen minutes.”
This location is prime due to its isolation and the toy company’s good standing. The only issue I have is, although the governor of New York is on my side, I have to worry that the governor of Jersey would catch on. The Port Authority is headed up by both New York and Jersey.
I make a few calls as I wait, and just as Tobias has said, the boat pulls in at the exact time.
My men start to unload the crates, placing them on the concrete before they are all pried open and checked.
It takes us hours.
I’d much rather be at a club getting my dick sucked right now. But instead, I’m pulling
drugs out of a stuffed lion’s head.
By the time we finish, the early morning light starts to slowly seep in from the hazy sky.
I’m back in my car now. The drugs are left behind with Roberto to sort and ship off to the distributors. It’s just me, Lorenzo, and my driver on the way back to my estate.
“What did you think of the location?”
“It will work perfectly for now.”
“You still want out of dealing?” he asks me.
I give him a brief nod. “I do.”
“Think the men will care?”
“Maybe. But I think that when I devise a more viable solution that makes even more money, they won’t give a flying fuck.”
“And what will that be?”
“No clue. But don’t worry, I’ll figure it out.”
“I know you will. You always do. You remind me of your dad.”
His words have me looking over at him, stunned.
Lorenzo has been my friend, cousin, and closest confidant.
His opinion means everything to me. Knowing that I am anything like the man my dad was means everything.
I chose not to speak. Not to thank him. Not to say anything at all.
My emotions are sitting too heavy on my tongue, and I know if I open my mouth, I will say something.
In my line of work and in my family, you don’t do that.
Instead, I nod once.
He knows me well enough to know I appreciate it, and then I pull out my phone and text Tobias.
Tobias is more than a business acquaintance. In my line of work, I don’t have many friends, but to me, if I had one, it would be him. We met at Cyrus Reed’s estate many years ago. Both of us clients of the banker. Over drinks and poker, we formed a bond of sorts, which is uncommon in this life.