Page 13 of The Fire We Make

Von, the youngest, sat slumped in his chair, scrolling on his phone while emptying the candy bowl that usually sat in the middle of the table.

The next oldest, August, tapped away at his computer, either crunching numbers or emptying the bank account of someone that pissed him off. His twin, April, sat beside him with her phone thrust in his face, the screen displaying various hairstyles.

Jrue, the next oldest directly after Ace, hovered near the mini bar in the corner of the office fixing himself a drink. Ace knew he would stake claim to that spot so he could inconspicuously get a refill during the meeting.

Among them were Isaac Kincaid and his father Gerald, the youngest son of Zachariah’s departed business partner and friend, Christopher Kincaid.

Before his death, Christopher had been the other founding member of their families’ law firm and of what the media would unoriginally dub their organization The Black Mafia. When Christopher and Zachariah formed the mafia and started the firm, Christopher decided that he and his family would take on a background role in their underground affairs while maintaining a vote among the other Afro Crime Council families on the east coast.

Most of the Kincaids stayed far away from mafia business but Gerald and Isaac had been making their presence more known in the past few years.

After dapping up the men and kissing his sister on the forehead, Ace took a seat in the chair beside his father.

“Aight let’s get to it,” Senior spoke, raising his voice so everyone in the room could hear him. At his command, everyone put away whatever they were doing and pulled up a seat surrounding the table with the exception of Jrue.

“Jrue, you first,” Senior prompted, starting the meeting.

Jrue lowered the glass from his lips and cleared his throat. “City Councilman Kent and I came to an understanding about that property tax so we shouldn’t have any more trouble with the clubs. I spoke to the Toussaint’s rep and they agreed to drop the price on guns if we let them use our streets to transport from now on,” Jrue gave his update quickly and concisely, then brought his drink back up to his mouth.

Senior looked to Ace, deferring to him as he’d started doing more recently. Senior had progressively given Ace more responsibility and decision making power over the past few years in preparation for him to soon transition from the heir to the Boss.

“How much are they dropping the price,” Ace asked.

“9.5%” Jrue answered.

Ace looked to August, who took only a moment to do the math in his head before nodding.

Making eye contact with his father Ace nodded his approval.

“Tell them it’s a deal,” Senior said. “Aug?”

“Revenue is up on all fronts. The new strip club is doing well and cleaning fast so we shouldn’t need anymore for now. I do suggest figuring out what our next front will be so we’re ready.”

“Sounds good,” Senior said. “Good job on the club, Von.”

“I’m sorry can you say that again? I didn’t hear you. I could’ve sworn y’all said I was just bullshitting,” Von said leaning forward and cupping his ear.

“Shut up nigga, he said good job,” Aug rolled his eyes.

Senior chuckled. “Your turn, Von.”

“Oh, I can talk now?” Von asked, placing a hand to his chest in fake shock.

Everyone smacked their lips at his dramatics.

“I’m just saying 5 seconds ago it was ‘shut up nigga’,” he said with his hands raised in mock surrender.

“Talk, boy,” Senior barked.

“Aight, aight,” Von laughed. “All boroughs are pulling strong numbers, especially Manhattan. I’m thinking of promoting Blue to my team. He’s been solid and runs a tight ship.”

Ace nodded. Blue was one of their best lieutenants.

“Good shit,” Ace said. “I just got word from our connect that the new shipment should hit the docks soon so I’ll make sure our guys at the ports know. Give your men a heads up so they can coordinate their pickups.”

Von saluted.

“Baby girl?” Senior turned to April.