Genesis, Part XXV

[Robbie C.]

They closed the deal on the restaurant and gallery just before two, and Enrique still sounded drunk when Miguel called to tell him. “That’s good,” he slurred into the phone. “Makes for a nice change, don’t it?”

“Are you still drinking, brother?”

“Naw. Don’t need to. Guess I’m still drunk. But don’t worry. Pasqual got me home an’ Tiffy put me to bed. I’ll be good for that run tomorrow.”

“I don’t doubt it. There’s still some things to finish, and I don’t think I’ll be done before six. But tomorrow or the next day I’m going to pay a visit to Jesus. Did you want to come along?”

“Naw. He saw me, an’ that didn’t impress him. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”

Miguel looked down at the finger he’d used to squeeze the trigger on his grandfather’s Colt. There was no shake, no sign of nerves. “Oh, I think I can make him see reason.”

“Was that Ricky?”

Hanging up the phone, he turned back to Holly. “Yes. He’s got a major hangover from last night. Something about a boat race, I think.”

“He doesn’t do that as much as he used to, does he?”

Not where anyone can see him, at least. “No, but don’t believe him if he says he’s outgrown in. Racing boats is like breathing to my little brother. He’ll do it without thinking and then say he doesn’t do it.” He reached out and touched her hand. “Enough about him, though. We need to start looking at plans and arranging contractors if we want Shock to open within the next eight months.”

“That soon?”

“The sooner it opens, the sooner it starts paying for itself.” He smiled. “Not that money’s any worry, but you know about return on investments…”

“You know, I want to pinch myself sometimes. Four months ago I would have been happy getting to promote a club like this, not running one.”

“And I would have been hanging around the bar of that club just to get a look at you.”

“You’re sweet to say so.” She smiled. “I still wonder why you’re doing all this.”

“Because I need someone who knows clubs to watch over mine. Because I don’t have time to do it myself or learn the business.” He paused, knowing what he wanted to say but not sure if he should. Then the swashbuckler took over. “And because I love you.”

“I…”

He saw the change in her face. Or thought he did. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s foolish.”

“No, it’s not. What’s foolish is that I didn’t tell you first. I’ve been in love with you for weeks, Miguel. But I thought you…”

He took her in his arms. “Then none of that matters. We’ll just be fools together.”

 

Enrique stared at the phone. “Well, he’s got his club now.”

Pasqual looked up from the boat magazine he’d been flipping through. “What’s that, boss?”

“Miguel’s got his damned club now.” He hung up the phone, forcing his drunk brain to sort through everything. “You know, I can’t really say that. It’s not a damned club. It’s a damned good idea. Gets us off Jesus’s tit, and anyone else who’s washing money for us.” He laughed, the lingering alcohol making it louder than he’d intended. “He was always a smart one, that brother of mine.”

“Sure, boss.”

“Stop with the boss shit, Pasqual. We’re buddies, right?” He shook his head, the motion making him wince. “And at least we can start using the third boathouse again now that dipshit Victor has ben dealt with.”

“I heard about that. They say it was Miguel who did it.”

“Word travels fast when we want it to, doesn’t it? And yeah, it wouldn’t surprise me a bit if he was the one who put two into that prick Victor.”

“So what do we do now?”

“Get back to work, that’s what. We keep cultivating our new source, and good old Oswaldo. Maybe see if we can scare up a couple more who are reliable. The more we get, the less we have to depend on that prick Santos.” Enrique blinked and sat down. “Maybe soon Miguel will put a couple in him, eh?”

“You should get some rest, Ricky.”

“I know. But I still feel bad about Gustavo, you know? He wasn’t very damned bright, but he was family and he did make the boys laugh.” Enrique rubbed his temples. As the buzz faded, his head started to pound with a familiar urgency. “And yeah, I’m gonna go lie down now. Wake me up a couple of hours before the run, ok?”

“I’ll do that. And maybe get a lead on that boat that was messing with us the last time we met Pepe. One of the guys thinks he saw something like it in one of the smaller marinas.”

Mention of the boat with the green stripe tickled something in the back of Enrique’s brain. The part not totally fuzzed by rum and tequila. “You do that, mano. And let me know. Be good to answer one question out of all this mess.”

Enrique’s head still felt like mush, but a shower and a session with the toothbrush made him feel a touch more human and got rid of the roadkill taste in his mouth. Pasqual had been right about sleeping, too. He was just pulling on a turtleneck Tiffy had gotten him when Pasqual came in. “Your lady let me in. She’s a hell of a door guard, you know that?”

“Yeah. I’m almost ready.”

“Good, but we might be a minute or two late getting started. I think you’re gonna want to call Miguel when I tell you what I dug up this afternoon.”

“What’s that?” Tucking in his shirt, Enrique pulled his own Colt out of a nightstand drawer and tucked it into the back waistband of his Levi’s.

“One of the guys did get a registration number off that boat. He could see where it had been taped over and used his head for something other than keeping his hat out of his eyes.” Pasqual chuckled. “And I had our friend over in vehicle registration run it down. Guess who it tracks back to?”

“Don’t tell me. Jesus Estevez?”

“Yep. Not directly, though. He’s got it in the name of one of his senior pilots. But we both know he don’t pay those boys near enough for one of ‘em to own a SCARAB. And I mean flat-out own. No lien or anything on it.”

Enrique stopped dressing and reached for the phone. “I’ll let Miguel know. Any other tidbits your boys pick up?”

“Just that the word is Jesus was asking around about that Burnett character. But he’s gone up in price quite a bit since the old days. Makes runs for Gutierrez now and then from what I hear. Anyhow, Jesus decided Burnett was too rich for his blood. Maybe too mean, too. I hear he’s got a temper on him these days.”

“Jesus always likes to keep things in house unless he needs a sacrifice for something. Might have been this Burnett’s lucky day.” Enrique hit the numbers and waited. “It’s me. We got a situation.”

 

“I don’t care where he is. You tell him I need to talk to him today, not tomorrow. And if he tries to make me wait until next week, he’s not going to enjoy what happens. Yes, I know who he is. And you damned well know who I am.” Miguel slammed down the phone with a muttered curse. Taking a moment to get his breathing back under control, he snatched up the receiver again and dialed a number. “Esteban? I’m going to need two of your biggest men on call. Jesus is at it again.”

The study was quiet except for the ticking of the clock. Holly was off somewhere, looking at flooring and paint samples. He was glad for the distraction. With this news he doubted he could keep his anger hidden from her.

He was still debating how much to tell her about what he really did. Some of it he figured she already either knew or had guessed. Holly was smart, and she had to know no distribution company in the state of Florida could make as much money as theirs did. But he also knew he had to tell her at least part of it. Just not today. Today was about business.

The phone disturbed his thoughts, and he snatched it up to hear Jesus’s smooth voice. “Miguel! I think you gave my office girl a heart attack. She said it was important.”

“I need to see you today. In the next hour would be best.”

He heard papers shuffling. “I’ve got another charter going out in twenty minutes. Then another this afternoon. Can we…”

“I said today.” The words were clipped. Sharp. “I’ll be over there in an hour. Don’t try to dodge me, Jesus.”

“That sounds like a threat.”

“No. A promise. I’ll see you then.” He ended the call, then dialed Esteban again. “Send those men over with one of the Mercedes. Jesus wants to play.” He could feel the Colt heavy in his waistband. “But this ends today. One way or the other.”

Jesus Estevez was sitting behind his oak desk when Miguel walked into his office, feeling the two big Cubans behind him like trained attack dogs waiting to be unleashed. The smile slid from Jesus’s face when he saw the two men. “I thought this was a friendly call.”

“It might have been. Except for that boat with the green stripe on it. You know, the one your boys have been using to shadow Pepe. The one that tried to close with Enrique not long ago. The one you whore out to the Columbians, trying to play a game you have no seat in.”

“How dare you…”

“Shut up.” The words hissed out of his mouth, and he saw the shock in Jesus’s dark eyes. “Just shut up and listen. You didn’t restore the Mendoza name. We did. Enrique and I. Hell, we’ve been paying for your little charter fleet for years. You continue running cigars and rum because I let you, not because it’s your right. And as far as I’m concerned you can keep running cigars and rum. But if you ever go near cocaine again, you will answer to me.”

“Look, you little shit…”

“You know, I used to admire you.” Miguel kept his voice even. Low. Holding the anger deep inside. “Really, I did. All your stories about the sea. Outrunning the Coast Guard. All that shit. But then I started learning about my grandfather and discovered you stole those stories from him. You’re a fine smuggler, Jesus. So long as you stick to cigars, rum, the small things. The old things. But cocaine? You don’t have the discipline.”

“I was just trying to expand. To grow with you.”

“The hell you were. I’ll only say this once. If I ever hear you’ve been messing with cocaine after today, there will be consequences. The money will dry up. Think about what that means.” Reaching down, he pulled out the old Colt and slammed it on the desk top. “And there are other, more direct remedies as well.”

He allowed the older man a smile. “And think about this. A Columbian would have shot you just now with no warning. It’s how they do business. Once they know your routes, your plans, they’d blow your head off and take your boats. Because you have no security. No idea of what this world you want into looks like. Stick with your cigars and rum, uncle. It’s the best way for you to survive.” He stuffed the Colt back in his waistband. “Don’t forget this conversation. There won’t be another one.” Turning, he nodded to his men and left the office. He didn’t want to see the shaking shell of a man who’d once been his uncle.

 

Spring 1988

After The Golden Touch, Like a Hurricane

 

“Check it out.” Ricardo Tubbs flipped open the ‘nightlife’ section of the Herald and pointed at an article. “They got another club opening in South Beach. Place called Shock.”

“Hope you enjoy it, partner.” Sonny Crockett chuckled and looked back at his notes. “I’m a married man now. Can’t go hang out at flashy clubs with disreputable characters anymore.”

“Even when they’re as well-dressed as yours truly? And how could I forget you hooked up with a fox like Caitlin?” Rico grinned, but it was still taking some adjustment. He scratched his chin through his trimmed beard and watched Sonny out of the corner of his eye. The man had been nothing but smiles since they’d gotten back from New Zealand. It just didn’t seem natural.

“And no, I didn’t hit my head on the honeymoon. I’m just happy, Tubbs. You know…h-a-p-p-y.”

“I can spell, man. Guess maybe I’m a little jealous is all.” He waved his hand toward the stack of folders on the corner of his desk. “Jealous you got to skip out on all this paperwork and the mayor’s latest ‘get tough on hookers’ campaign. I bet Gina and Trudy put another couple hundred miles on their high heels making those busts.”

“Yeah, and with Frick and Frack taken care of Cait can get back to her music. Can you believe they’re even talking about a tour?” Sonny shook his head. “Don’t know if I’ll ever get used to this celebrity stuff. Anyhow, you ever dig up anything else on Gustavo Mendoza?”

“The streets are dead. As in dead quiet. ME confirmed it was a 9mm that did him in, but no one’s talking. If the Dominicans did it you’d think there’d be chatter. But not a word.” Rico flipped back through his notebook. “And that chump who was trying to muscle in on Rizzo’s up and vanished from the face of the earth, too.”

“Vanished as in the Mendozas took him out or vanished as in the connected guys at Rizzo’s sent him through a car crusher?”

“Not a word. But my money’s on the car crusher.” He was about to continue when Castillo’s office door opened.

“Crockett. Tubbs. We just got a call. Homicide just found a dead hooker at The Tropical. Her working name’s Cinder. They want us to take a look.”

Rico thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. “Yeah. Cinder. I remember her. Slinky little number with something like twelve arrests.”

“Thirteen.” Castillo started to turn away. “Get over there and see if there’s anything making it our business. If not, give it back to Homicide.”

OCB shifts to Baseballs of Death

Miguel Mendoza stood in front of the manager’s desk in The Palm’s main office. “It’s a simple offer,” he said, a thin smile on his face. “Since Frankie got put away the club has been suffering significant losses. You want to remodel, but can’t get any financing. Until now.”

Mitchell Troost shifted in his overstuffed desk chair. He looked like an aging hippie who’d gone corporate, and while he might be good for appearances Miguel knew he didn’t know squat about running a club. The balance sheets proved it. “I don’t know, Mr. Mendoza. We’ve got prospects here, and with a little patience…”

“You’ll be out of business. This place will be turned into a boutique coffee shop for old tourists and you’ll be managing a second-rate hotel if you’re lucky.” He smiled again. “With my financing you can continue to pretend you run The Palm. You’ll be the face, just not making major decisions. I think that’s how you really like it, yes?”

“I…” He sighed. “Frankie was the one who really kept the place jumping. I had some money and put it in, and he turned it into more. When he got busted…”

“Exactly. Under this arrangement, I’ll take on sixty percent ownership. You’ll still get your take, and things will go on like they did when Frankie was in charge.” Reaching into a crocodile leather attache case, he pulled out a thin sheaf of papers. “I had my lawyer draw this up earlier. Look it over, and if it’s satisfactory go ahead and sign.”

Troost flipped through the pages, but Miguel didn’t think he read a word. I can smell the desperation on him. The stink of someone who’s in over his head but doesn’t want to give up the life that goes with it. “I guess this looks ok, Mr. Mendoza.”

“Good. Now go do what you do best. Look decorative. My people will be reviewing the employee list and send you any changes. Don’t look so worried. We’re not going to cut much if anything there. You’ve got good people, even if you treat them like shit. You’ll also get plans for the remodel. Sign them and don’t make a fuss.” He took the signed papers and stuffed them back into the attache case.

Holly was waiting for him in the back seat of the Mercedes driven by one of Esteban’s men. “That didn’t take long.”

“No. I just needed to convince Mitchell he needed an investor. Which, of course, he did.”

“So we control The Palm now.”

“Yes, but not in public.” He placed his hand over hers, letting his fingers touch her nylon-clad thigh. “To the club scene it’s still his show. It’s better that way. But all the major decisions are ours. Starting with his staff and the remodel.”

She leaned over and kissed his neck. “You know it turns me on when you talk like that.”

“Maybe we’ll have to invest in another club.” He slid his fingers up her thigh, nodding as the driver closed the smoked glass partition between the front and back seats of the Mercedes. Not for the first time he appreciated the training Esteban put into his men.

It was late afternoon by the time the black sedan pulled into the long dive leading up to the Mendoza estate. No, the hacienda, Miguel thought as he straightened his tie and looked out the tinted, armored window. Holly is right to call it that. He smiled as she tugged at her pencil skirt. No reason to give Enrique too many ideas.

He met them on the wide porch, a wide smile on his face. “I don’t know what you told Uncle Jesus, but it did the trick. He’s been doing nothing but hauling fat fishermen into the Keys since that meeting.” He stopped and turned a light red when he saw Holly coming around the side of the car. “Good afternoon, Holly. I don’t mean to bore you with business.”

“It’s ok, Ricky. I was going to go file these papers and look over the plans one last time. Our big opening’s tomorrow, you know. You and Tiffy have to be there.”

“We will.” He gave her a quick hug before turning back to Miguel. “Can we…”

Miguel waved him to the side of the porch. “I should have warned you. But we just got done buying control of The Palm and there wasn’t time to call.”

“So we have that dump, too.”

“Yes. I’m leaving Troost in as a figurehead, but I’d rather have one of your people sitting close by. If you’ve got someone who’s up to it, of course. This would have been perfect for Gustavo. I should have shot that prick Victor after he hit the Dominicans.”

“What’s done is done, brother. At least that’s what you always told me after I lost a race. Granted, I didn’t hear it very often, but still… And yeah, I’ve got a guy who would work well there. He’s been handling most of the product in any case, so it’s not a big step.”

“Good. I’ll send you a bit more security, too. Another two men, if that sounds like enough.”

“It should be. Unless the Double Treys or 8-Ball Kings get ambitious. My guy says they’ve been sniffing around off and on.”

“Let me know. If they are, we’ll handle it.”

“I’ll do that.” Enrique ran his hand through his hair. “Look, I’d better let you get in there. I just happened to be in the neighborhood and wanted you to know Jesus has backed the fuck down.”

“For now, at least.” Miguel reached out and gripped Enrique’s shoulder. “He’s a proud old man. Stubborn, too. I tried to put the fear of God into him, and it might have worked. But it might just be temporary. Have your boys keep their distance from his crews, and we’re not putting anything extra into his operation. No matter how much he complains. And if he complains to papi…it won’t do him a bit of good.”

“I’ll let them know. Not that we do anything with his people now.” Enrique grinned. “Most of his guys who know their stuff jumped over to us months ago anyhow. What’s left are the house cats who like running charters. Nothing wrong with that…it puts food on their tables. But it means he don’t have much in the way of home-grown talent if he decides to try to cut in on our dance again.”

“I told him if he tries it again, it will be the last thing he does. I just hope he understood I’m serious about that. We have too much invested in this, brother. You and me. And the family name.”

Miguel stood on the porch, watching Enrique climb into his Corvette and head out. He really did hope Jesus kept his head down and did as he was told, but somehow he doubted the old man would. Pride was a dangerous thing, and Jesus Estevez had more than his share.

He also knew he couldn’t waste much time on the old man. With Shock and controlling The Palm he had two clubs to worry about in addition to the distribution business. At least Enrique could mind the narcotics side of the operation. One more club and we stop for a bit. Breathe and see how it works. He wasn’t going to make the mistake of Newton Blade and take on too much too soon. Another lesson from Otis Forsythe, who’d managed to stay in the game longer than anyone else Miguel had ever known.

He thought of Holly and smiled. Things were moving fast in many areas now. At least they had reached a kind of understanding with the Dominicans, and the Haitians appeared to have forgotten about them. That left the Columbians, but with a handful of exceptions they had short attention spans and life expectancies to match. He’d heard rumors through Esteban of a fight brewing between the Gutierrez and Manolo organizations, and so long as they steered clear it shouldn’t impact his business at all. Even the rogue Manolo, El Gato or whatever he called himself, was more a distraction than a real threat. Let them shoot each other and move in the pick up the pieces. Plus their fights kept the police focused on them and away from his activities.

Holly was leaning over the desk, making notes on a small pad as she went over the guest list one last time. “I think we’ve got it nailed down, honey. All the right people in all the right places. A good band…it’s gonna be a great opening.”

“Of course it is.” He’d had Esteban go over the security plan with a fine tooth comb. Twice. At least five of his best men would be in the crowd, in addition to the normal security people. As far as he could tell no one knew of his connection to the club, but it was better to be safe than identifying bodies in the morgue. “With you behind it how could it be anything else?”

“I still have to pinch myself sometimes, you know?”

“I do. But this will be good. Both for us and the business.”

“Just tell me you won’t be moving product in the club.”

He blinked at the question, then smiled. I knew she was smart. “Of course not. Shock is going to be clean. Anyone who works there who’s caught selling will be fired on the spot.”

“Thank you.” She looked down. “I don’t know everything you do, and I don’t know if I want to. But it means a lot to me that you’re keeping all that out of the club.”

“Any club you work with will be clean. That’s my promise to you. And I’m a man of my word.”

“I know you are, Miguel. Is that why you left Troost in charge of The Palm?”

“Yes. If anything happens, he goes down. But it’s something he understands and accepts as the price for keeping his place and the large cut he gets from the club’s operation. But Shock is yours, my darling. To do with what you will. And it will be a clean operation. That I promise you.” Just don’t ask about the money.

“Why a club?”

He shook his head. “It’s like this. We make more money than we can put in a bank or really invest without questions being asked. Clubs, real estate, charter fishing operations…these are all cash businesses. Money moves in and out all the time with no questions so long as the books are in order. A wise man I know suggested clubs as one way to invest and have something to show for it. But I don’t know clubs. You do.”

She smiled and touched his hand. “I won’t ask again, baby. Your word is all I need. And tomorrow night we’re going to have the best opening South Beach has ever seen.”

 

Pasqual hefted the duffle bag and tossed it across the gap between the boats. “It’s 80 percent pure, boss,” he shouted over the engine noises and wind. “All good.”

Enrique nodded, keeping one eye on the radar screen and the other on the big Cuban standing in the open cabin of the SCARAB with a Mini-14. It was their first big buy from the new Peruvian, and he didn’t want to take any chances.

“The money’s all here.” The Peruvian’s man was a reedy nose-picker who could have been from Panama City or San Juan. It was too dark to see his face clearly, and his accent was lower street trash with just enough big words to hint at education somewhere. “Boss wants me to tell you it’s been a pleasure doing business.”

“Likewise. Does he want to do the same in two weeks?”

The skinny man looked back toward the fishing boat’s cabin. “Yes. The coordinates will come over low marine band. Just like tonight.”

“Good.” Enrique waited for Pasqual to jump back on board before pushing the throttles forward and turning away from the larger craft. The big V-8s roared, and in seconds the fishing boat was lost in the gloom.

“That damned boat smelled like rotten ass. It’s gonna take three showers to get rid of it.” Pasqual handed the bulging duffle to the Cuban, who hefted it as if it was nothing and headed below. “I bet the Coast Guard never boards that damned thing.”

“Might be the reason they keep it so rank. Now watch the radar. I don’t want any surprises before we get in the shadow of the coast.” The exchange had gone off without a hitch, and another of his crews had made a similarly successful deal with The Bat the night before. Enrique smiled as the boat cut through the water, the prow rising as he increased power. Good to be back at work again.

Edited March 28, 2023 by Robbie C.