25

Bugsy stepped into the jail visitation room with a strong stride and was assigned to a table near the back. The place was mostly jumbled with elderly women visiting daughters or granddaughters and children tagging along to see mothers, sisters, or cousins. He tuned out the chatter and glanced at the signs posted throughout the room. Some warned that it was a drug-free institution and lawbreakers would be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Another sign warned of littering—anyone who litters shall be denied visitation privileges. Smoking, eating, and drinking were prohibited in the visitation lobby. So many restrictions, so many rules. He laughed lightly at them.

Before long, Layla and another female inmate were escorted in by a clean-cut male guard. The look on Layla’s face indicated that she wasn’t too happy to see him.

She sat across from him and spat, “That bitch is still alive, right?”

He didn’t kill Maxine, and he didn’t want to hear her fuss about it. “We’re not gonna start with that today. I didn’t come here to hear you gripe about her.”

Layla didn’t argue with him. She didn’t want him to leave. She didn’t want him to abandon her too. So many things were going wrong in her life. At night, all alone in her cell, she would cry and cry. But in public, she personified her bad girl, gangster bitch image.

The conversation shifted to Lucky. “Your sister is a bitch. She’s treating me unfairly and fuckin’ with my finances.”

“What’s going on?” he said.

Bugsy was listening, although he had places to be and there were other things to talk about. He sat there and allowed Layla to grumble about her issues with Lucky.

“She’s out to destroy me,” said Layla. “She cancelled the two-year lease on my Manhattan suite and collected the prorated funds without my permission. And I have no idea where the money went,” she said.

“How did she do that?” he asked.

“A foolish mistake on my end. I gave that little bitch power of attorney on my behalf when I branched off from your father and started my Boss Bitch corporation. I thought she could be trusted.”

Bugsy chuckled at the lunacy of his mother’s decision. It was petty shit between two women, but he continued to listen.

“She’s getting rid of all my personal belongings—jewelry, clothing, and shoes, everything—without my permission. She’s leaving me with nothing! She’s acting like I’ve already been tried and convicted and sentenced to life.”

Bugsy shook his head. “I’ll talk to her.”

Lucky was doing some foul shit, but why? Something was going on, and he was in the dark.

“I want you to break her fuckin’ neck for me,” Layla said angrily.

“Now you know I can’t do that. She’s my sister.”

“And she’s my daughter, and look how she’s treating me. I’m telling you, Lucky can’t be trusted.”

“Whatever issues you two got going on, y’all need to work it out. But like I said, I’ll talk to her,” he replied.

He had issues of his own, and the last thing he needed was to get caught up in their situation—girl shit, he felt.

“Well, before you get all dismissive and preachy with that ‘sister’ shit, let me pull your coat to this. And this is some serious shit, Bugsy, so that’s why I’m coming to you. I need your help convincing my hardheaded child. I swear she’s just like your father.”

Bugsy exhaled. “What’s up?”

“My attorney said that with an informant things are complicated. He’s working on a defense, but with your father tied to my case, his shady drug past could spill over into my pristine record.”

Bugsy gave his mother his full attention. “What you need me to do?”

“We need to create reasonable doubt. So, at the advice of my attorney, I asked your sister to testify on my behalf.”

“Oh, like a character witness? And she has a problem with that? Don’t worry, I’ll speak—”

“Not like that, damn. And, I thought you were the smart one. He needs Lucky—and this was his strategy, not mine—to get up on the stand and give the jury an impression that she was really the person making all the illegal moves while I was at home raising my kids.”

If Bugsy were a crying man, he would have cried for his sister. How could a parent even entertain such an asinine idea? He could only imagine how hurt Lucky was hearing this selfish proposition. He knew she looked up to Layla just as he looked up to Scott.

“Are you fucking insane? She’s your daughter, not some underling!”

“Ain’t shit gonna happen to her ass! It’s just a ruse!”

“She’s a fucking kid!”

Layla smirked. “Lucky? She came out my pussy wearing heels and lipstick. She can handle a few questions on the stand. I mean, if she can’t, she’s in the wrong business.”

“I could say the same for you.” Bugsy shook his head in disgust. “This is Maxine all over again. Anyone can do the jail time just as long as it’s not you.”

Bugsy got up. He couldn’t leave fast enough. He exited the jail and was greeted by his men lingering around the Escalade. Bugsy climbed into the backseat and said, “Get me the fuck out of here. I hate this place.”

His lieutenant, Choppa, looked at him with something important to tell him. “What the fuck you gotta say to me, Choppa?”

“I got word from Miami. They found the body of Javier Garcia’s nephew. He was shot in the head,” Choppa said.

Bugsy was stunned by the news. “What the fuck! They know who did it?”

“Nah, but shit is about to get heavy. His nephew was a civilian—a family man with kids.”

“Garcia reached out to us yet?”

“Nah, no word.”

Bugsy sighed and threw his head back against the headrest. Who would be bold or stupid enough to assassinate one of Javier Garcia’s family members? Was it an act of war, or just a random killing by a walking dead fool?

“This fucking day keeps getting better and better,” Bugsy said. “Just take me the fuck home. I’m tired.”