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3
Maddox
Iarrive at my father’s house, late for a planned family meeting. In the absurdity of The King’s impossible tasks, days blend, in preparation to rid the world of Emma Blake. Even without stepping through the door, I can see the scowl on Father’s face. Punctuality is a cornerstone in the Braddock residence, and being tardy is a cardinal sin. Even if it’s only twenty minutes.
The front yard is alive with stirring bodies, all talking among themselves on my approach. They are loyalists to the Braddock family, no doubt waiting to hear what’s going to happen, once our meeting is done. If my old man’s brought the whole organization over, I have to expect the worst. He’s got something big in the works, and I want no part of it.
“Morning, boss,” Benjamin Winter says when I get to the front door. Benjamin’s age is rapidly starting to show. Little bushels of hair hang from his nostrils, while the top of his head is all but shining, hairless in the morning sun. Deep wrinkles cut through his skin, with crow’s feet stretching from eye to ear.
Benjamin is my father’s right hand and a part of the furniture now. Always around at these get-togethers, but never speaking out of turn.
“Benjamin,” I give him a nod and a pat on the shoulder. “How’s my dad doing?”
“Livid, sir,” he says. He’s been calling me Boss, Sir, and every other formality since I was a kid. I don’t understand or like it. I’m another enforcer, like the rest of them, so Maddox seems fitting. No pomp or circumstance, just old friends having a chat.
“That’s what I like to hear,” I reply.
Benjamin’s acting as a doorman today, his wrinkled hands pulling it open and ushering me inside. He shuts it behind me, without joining us, keeping the riff-raff out.
It’s a bad sign if Benjamin’s not coming with. My old man’s making moves no one else can hear until it’s time to act. Last time I got roped into one of these, I had to threaten Tara Slater’s life for a small stretch of land.
Fuck.
The house, from the ornate regally inspired living room, through to the modernized kitchen, is dead quiet. Not even his new plaything, some girl twenty years his junior with a name so forgettable I can’t remember it, is around. This all enhances my nervousness about what’s to come. What the hell does he have cooking?
I shouldn’t be surprised. My dad’s always got something going on; a new venture or a plan to take control of Hannibal as the second strongest family. What happens when that lust for power drives him to death’s door at the hand of Bruno Romani?
Only a single door stands open down the hallway from the kitchen, leading through to the bedrooms. The War Room as my father aptly named it – my once childhood bedroom exchanged for a long desk, six tables, and terrible people plotting worse things.
Let’s get this over with, then.
I walk through the hallway, clacking my shoes against the fake-wood floor as loudly as I can, letting them know I’m here. The Braddock’s are speaking amongst themselves in hushed whispers, barely audible until I’m at the door.
“Where the hell have you been, Boy?” Father shouts, even before I step through. He’s sitting at the head of the table, with my three brothers and sister flowing around to his right and left. Papers litter the desk, and coffee and sandwiches stand in the middle. We keep the War Room electronics-free, paper trails only, to burn up any evidence if necessary. There’s also less risk of being wire-tapped.
“Busy,” I reply.
My siblings don’t look up at me, but keep their eyes pinned on Father. How the hell my parents spawned children that look near identical to one another, years apart, is beyond me. The boys, Bobby, Aaron, and Carter, are all thin-framed and weak. Their tanned, perfect skin is a testament to their lack of dedication to the family. It’s easy to spend the money, but hard to get your hands dirty.
Liza, on the other hand, isn’t afraid to do a little dirty work. But she’s daddy’s princess and he’d never point her in the direction of danger.
“Busy? That’s all you’re going to give me?” Father’s eyes go squint, and the corners of his mouth turn down into a scowl, evidently annoyed. “Well, sit down. We don’t have all day to chat.”
I hastily accept the offer and sit at the foot of the table. I haven’t and don’t plan on telling anyone about The King’s task. If it’s a seat at The King’s table or not, I don’t want anyone getting funny ideas about how to get rid of him.
My loyalty is to the crown. Braddock family business comes second.
“Let me get you up to speed with what you’ve missed,” father says, leaning back in his chair. He’s got a cigar pinned between his thumb and forefinger. Like me, my father’s always dressed well; a suit and tie. Respect is commanded, and a lot can be said by a man’s clothing. “Quincy Harrison’s big score in Saint Louis is bad for business.”
I knew I should’ve paid more attention to that goddamned riverboat.
“He’s putting himself in front of Bruno Romani as a go-to man. Soon enough, that will bleed out between the three families. He might get lippy, and look for trouble, because he’s got a chip on his shoulder,” Father carried on. “The way I see it; Larry Slater is on his last legs. He’s a Chihuahua in a dog fight, barking loud, but we all know he’s never going to get anywhere. Quincy knows it as well.”
“I don’t think that’s right. Larry’s doing just fine,” I chime in. With my father’s aggression geared at Quincy, I won’t say any nice words about him. Finishing this meeting and dealing with the judge; that’s all I’m focusing on.
“Just fine? He can’t even control his whore daughter without losing a stretch of land. How the hell’s he going to handle the Harrisons coming in with their newfound greed?” Father bursts out laughing.
“Because not everyone’s locked in this perceived power struggle you’ve got going on. Quincy’s doing what he can to make more money for The King, which in turn lines his own pockets. Why are you so preoccupied with taking more of Hannibal, when the whole Mississippi river has opportunities at every stop? Hell, even Bruno made advancements upriver. Some distribution chain and riverboat cruise company, to push product all the way up.”
