I did this for a variety of reasons, including the fact I was just hearing this now and she was calmly discussing cooking meth and ecstasy at fucking Rioja!
“I told you I had a plan,” she replied.
“Does Dad know of your plan?”
She said nothing.
Oh God.
“One,” I began to count down all the things wrong with her going forward with this to the point of production. “Valenzuela hears we’ve got labs, we’re at war.”
“We have territory we’ve kept. We’ll work that careful not to infringe. If we can keep it from him and are smart in selling for long enough, when it’s time to expand, we’ll have soldiers to fight or he’ll be smart enough to let go some turf. And anyway, we’re producing and I’m assured what’s cooked is very good. He might find it in his interests to start buying from us.”
She was insane.
Benito Valenzuela did not have partners. He didn’t make deals. If there was something he wanted or something was happening he did not like, he performed hostile takeovers, the hostile part defined as hostile because it was underlined in blood.
I didn’t argue that. She knew that, this being why she was insane.
Instead, I stated, “Two, when Dad finds out, he’s going to lose his mind.”
She shook her head. “He’ll come around.”
“You know what he finds acceptable,” I reminded her. “And those two products in our menu are not that.”
“It isn’t the eighties anymore, Liv,” she told me exasperatedly, like it was me making the rules when it was not, never was and it never would be. “He has to swing with the times. We can’t get our hands on coke or H because Valenzuela has it tied up. I had to get creative. Furthermore, it’s ridiculous Dad thinks cocaine and heroin are elite drugs and Shade only deals in elite. There are no elite drugs. Drugs are drugs. Drugs are money. And we need money.”
I glanced again side to side before I retorted, “I know it isn’t the eighties, Georgie, but this is Dad and he thinks he’s king. You don’t move forward on something like this without discussing it with him. On that alone he’s going to lose his mind.”
She dropped her fork and leaned toward me. “We don’t do something, we lose hold. All hold. Soldiers. What little territory we have left, and you know there isn’t much. We gotta rebuild. We had to do that five years ago, seven, ten, before you or I even took our offices at the warehouse. So it’s safe to say that right now, the time is so ripe to do it, it’s rotting off the goddamned vine and I’m not gonna rot with it.”
At her vehemence, and frankly, the veracity of her statements, I shut my mouth.
“I know he’s not going to take it well, that’s why I didn’t talk to him about it in the first place,” she carried on. “But he has no choice. It took me years to sort out all the shit I needed to sort out under the nose of Valenzuela and Seth Townsend’s boys still sniffing around, keeping tabs. Not to mention that fucking motorcycle club, the Nightingale men, Delgado’s commandos, those two fucking Sebring brothers and every other player who keeps tabs on the Denver streets.”
“It’s impressive, Georgie,” I told her the truth, but keeping my face perfectly impassive, especially after her mention of Nick and Knight.
Her annoyed, frustrated eyes warmed.
“And the boys will be relieved,” I went on.
She nodded, again picking up her fork. “They will. Dad will too, he gets over it and gets with the program. It’ll help, you sussed out this thing with David, taking care of the family. We get the legitimate side producing again, rebuild our stronghold in the turf we’ve got left, start pushing for more. Valenzuela has a soft spot for me. I’ve been buttering him up for months.” She grinned and finished, “Finally, for the House of Shade, I see good things.”
She shoved pasta in her mouth and started chewing, still grinning.
I was not grinning.
I did not see good things.
I saw labs that were always in danger of being sniffed out by rivals or law enforcement and wondered what steps Georgie had taken to be certain those labs were not tied to anything Shade. Another conversation we would have, just not one at a public restaurant.
I also saw our boys who would soon have product on the street and this would not go unnoticed, not by anyone. Those “anyones” would wonder where we got it and our boys obviously were more vulnerable with product in stock than they were when our cupboards were bare and I didn’t feel we were in any place to keep them protected.
And Georgie could, at times, control our father and guide him. At other times, if he felt like not letting something go, he made things uncomfortable. And there were even other times when those things should be made uncomfortable for Georgie, but since she was his favorite and his heir, he transferred his displeasure to me.
The only thing I had to hold on to was that my sister wasn’t dumb and she knew all of this. Even desperate, I didn’t think she’d move forward stupid and she always did what she could to protect me.
So maybe it would work out.