Best Laid Plans

Genres: African American Urban

Synopsis

Dr. Antonio “Tone” Ortiz is an ordinary single father in Miami, trying to ignore what flows through his veins, until his daughter, Jewel, goes missing. With all his options failing, it’s up to Tone to find his daughter by any means necessary, even if that means signing his soul over to the devil himself: his father, Caltrone Orlando.

Co-parenting has never been easy, and Kenya Gates will learn just how hard it is with the kidnapping of her daughter, Jewel. Even through all the sacrifices, secrets, lost love, drama, pain, and manipulation, these two fighting parents will come together with one agenda in mind: to save their daughter at all costs. But will Kenya also be willing to join up with Tone’s dangerous father, or will she allow her emotions to get in the way?

Behind the scenes, a legacy had been founded, one ushering in legendary murders and mayhem. Now it's time to understand the Orlandos, the seductive, lethal, and notorious family known for taking and leaving bodies behind. Journey with street lit authors, Brick & Storm as they tell another tale of the Hood Misfits’ urban world.

Release date: January 30, 2018

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

July 2012 . . .

“I need your help.”

The fragrant scent of various spices, rum, and tobacco flowed around me in a breeze. A crash of waves, warm rays from the sun soaked into my skin, which would have relaxed me any other time, but today wasn’t that day. I was on the brink of madness and I had traveled out of the States just to get the help I wasn’t finding back home in Miami.

“Tell me why I should help you,” was nonchalantly thrown at me before the subtle sound of drinking started.

Squaring my shoulders, I stood like the proud man I had been raised to be and the warrior I had taken it upon myself to become. The moment I made the choice to fly to Cuba and breach everything my mother had worked hard to protect me from was the moment I had decided to shed my responsibilities as an average man, a doctor, and become whatever this man needed me to be. I had to.

I stood there without an ounce of fear in me and stated a saying my mother made sure I knew since I was an infant in her arms: “La familia es la sangre. La sangre es vida y la vida es la familia.” Essentially, I had said, “Blood is family, family is life, and life is family.”

“Hmm. Pretty words, but do you understand what they truly mean? Or are you just regurgitating what you think I would like to hear?”

The man I vaguely recalled from my youth as a child playing on the island of Cuba watched me with no regard. His mannerisms were those of a man who didn’t have a care in the world and who, at any second, could end my life if I bored him. Inwardly, a smile played in my mind. In my five years as a trauma surgeon, I had the privilege of patching up men like this as they lay bleeding from either bullet wounds or other injuries.

From my research on this man, who visited me occasionally as I grew up, I knew that he was nothing to trifle with. He was not the type of man you’d make the assumption of labeling like other criminals or kingpins. No. This man was an enigma on his own who deserved the respect to be labeled nothing less than what he was: King Caltrone Orlando. My father.

“I’m not the type of man who would waste your time on pretty words. I am an Orlando. The thirty-two-year-old son of Carmen Ortiz and Caltrone Orlando, and I am here before you because I live those words, nothing more,” I explained, keeping hidden for the time being the urgency of the reason I had come.

My father sat back in his chair behind a small table full of various types of food and drinks. He was in casual wear: a white, breezy linen shirt that showed the white beater under it, and white pants. His feet were bare but the mat under them was clean. The sun soaked into his bronze skin.

In his features, I saw my own. We both had the same facial bone structure with firm, large lips. I also had a light beard along my chin. Though he had lighter eyes, and graying curly hair, I had longer, thick hair pulled back into a ponytail with a fade along the sides. It was a texture that was a mixture of my Afro-Cuban ancestry. My eyes were also a nutty light tone that contrasted against my cinnamon brown skin, and I had tattooed sleeves on my arms.

“Explain that to me, son. First, I am impressed with how you came through these doors unscathed. It shows that my blood does run through you. You were but a boy of eight years when your mother left the familia in order to fly like a bird and share the gift of her dancing with the world.”

Caltrone paused and languidly leaned forward to grab a piece of fruit and take a bite, then continued to speak. “I attended almost every performance she had until she decided to live in Miami. But you know that, my son, for I visited you as often as I could. So, please, have a seat and share with me how, after all these years, you find yourself at my door speaking the family motto instead of being back home . . . Where is it now? And does my beautiful Carmen still dance?”

Licking my lips, I stayed where I was in thought. I came from this man who was King of the Underworld. A man who had as many wives and children as he had houses, cars, and guns. My mother became a part of that dynasty due to her best friend, my aunt Mariposa. When Mariposa returned to Cuba from New York then decided to leave for good to pursue her singing, my mother packed up our things and we left with her so that she could dance for Mariposa’s band. After that, she became a dance teacher and she and I settled in Miami where, occasionally, I’d be visited by my father Caltrone.

Now, I was being asked to sit at this man’s table as he dissected me. I was pretty sure he knew the answers to every question he shot my way. No, I was confident that he did. But since this was his world and I came to him in need, I decided to play the game. Stepping forward, I quietly pulled out a chair and took off my jacket, then sat down. I crossed my arms over my chest and began talking.

“Yes, Mama still dances. She has a club and restaurant now, where she teaches people to dance. It’s named after my daughter, Jewel. As of now, yes, sir, we are still in Miami. I am an ER doctor as well as a father taking care of my daughter and mi madre, the feisty phoenix, as she likes to call herself.”

Caltrone laughed loudly. Only his laughter wasn’t that of a happy or cheerful man. His laughter always had a hidden meaning as he rarely laughed to begin with. He slapped a hand on a box then slid it my way. “Take one, my son, and enjoy it.” Caltrone leaned back with an expression of pride on his face.

He gave me a nod with a wide smile. Wise lines hugged the corners of his lips as he spoke. “Carmen has always been my spicy phoenix since we were all children. When she was with Mariposa, she would always find a reason to dance. She was alluring, carefree, and passionate. It pleases me that she still dances after all these years.”

I allowed myself to laugh with a man who used to make cherry lollipops appear in his hand with the slightest of moves, a man who I recall hearing say I would make an excellent prince for the family, and a man who used to train me in hand-to-hand combat until my mother felt that she had had enough of his unorthodox training. I reached in my jacket to pull out a picture and I handed it to him. I watched him study the image and I swore emotion flickered by his eyes.

My mother was in the picture with me and Jewel in Hawaii. At fifty-five years of age, Carmen was still a stunner. Her short five foot four inch athletic but voluptuous body always reminded me of her obsession with health and keeping up an image that allowed her to continue to dance. Carmen stood with the same wide grin that matched my daughter’s. Her feisty personality was on display as her sun-kissed, clay brown skin shined while she twirled in a bohemian dress. Her thick, kinky hair was in a crinkled freefall lifting in the wind as we all stood with her laughing in the photo.

It was a happy moment that we all cherished. Watching my father, I reached over to open the box. I pulled out a cigar, worked it between my fingers, and removed the tip, then lit it as I puffed in the smooth smoke. “Yes, she’s still full of life. She stays with me in order to give me the blues,” I said with love and respect in my voice for mi madre.

“I must see her again,” he said locking eyes on me.

Understanding that his statement was not one of casual fluctuation but a subtle order, I gave a nod. “Before I came, we both knew that you would want to see her. I’ll arrange it as soon as we are done here.”

Caltrone reached over and, as he spoke, poured me a glass of the freshest-looking orange juice I had ever seen. “Good. From your words, I do see how you uphold the motto of this family. Now, tell me why you are here, my son. Your mother was insistent that she take you from the family and raise you her way. What of us do you still have in you?”

Pushing the glass away, I reached for a decanter full of a golden-brown liquid. Uncorking it, I poured it in his glass then my own. I sat back and took a sip, and allowed smoke to curl around my lips while I savored the cigar’s smoky, bourbon-like flavor.

“My daughter—your granddaughter—is missing. She’s seventeen. Jewel Carla Ortiz is a National Honor member, a gifted student, and a junior in high school. She’s a wonderful runner, and a budding Orlando beauty, whose looks have caused too much attention in my opinion, as a protecting father,” I explained.

“I’ve raised her to be mindful and smart, yet at seventeen she is gone. Lured away by some vulture on the Internet who coaxed her through texts and phone calls, convincing her that she can be free of my strict rules if she would be with him. For four months, I’ve been searching for her. I’ve used up all that I know how to do to find her myself. I’ve traced them to Tampa only to have them disappear on me. My resources have run thin.”

Clenching my empty glass, I paused then set it down. “This is a situation that now requires me to stop being a doctor and practice the principles you taught me, Father. Your blood runs heavy through me. This is why I’m here. I will do whatever to protect my family. No man should be accepting of being robbed. My daughter was taken from me, and whoever has her will learn that she is of the wrong family to take from.”

Ocean waves crashed behind my father. My gaze took in the tropical horizon while I kept my emotions locked down. I hoped that he’d help me. As an adult, I understood that I was gambling with the devil.

I had done my own investigation on this man; and when my mother learned that I planned to see him, she broke down, frantically trying to keep me home with the story of the corrupt power of the Orlandos. But, even with my mother’s confession about the dangerous way my father chose to live, I couldn’t stay away and not ask for his help. Jewel needed me, and though she had chosen to run away, there was no way that I would accept it. I had to get my daughter. I had to do this not only for myself but also for her mother, Kenya.

The Orlandos were a group of trained killers and criminals. It was deeper than just Caltrone. His power and reign flexed over the U.S. and internationally. It was what made my mother run with his sister Mariposa, when she ran from the start of the battle in Brooklyn to Cuba and elsewhere. The tale of a family battle with another family, the Kulu Kings, only added to the stress I was feeling about Jewel. Men bent on going after each other over . . . well, plainly put, pussy.

Shaking my head, I kept that knowledge on lockdown. Even while sitting in front of Caltrone, my mind was still trying to process the truths that were shared that day. Like what my mother felt she had to do to protect me when I was a child, I was doing the same for Jewel.

“Carla,” Calrone quietly said finally breaking our silence. “After me?”

I gave a nod. Only a few knew his real name and that Caltrone was an extension of his middle name.

“Why haven’t you gone the legal route? Gone to the police?” he asked.

I sighed and shook my head. “Humph. I did, but after they investigated and found she left on her own, they stopped treating it with priority. I mean, they claim to be looking into it but, as you can see, we haven’t gotten anywhere with them yet.”

He nodded once. “As I asked before, what will you do for me?” he asked.

“Two things: one, I will be your man, your weapon, whatever you need; and, two, you wanted to see mi madre?” Digging in my jacket, I pulled out my cell phone. “All I have to do is make a call.”

A sly smile spread across his face. Tossing a grape in his mouth he chewed slowly and watched me in a calculating manner. “So she is not at the hotel with you?” he asked, which made me chuckle.

“Papa, my mother grew up around your family and loved you at one time. We know better,” I said just as smoothly as he would.

He laughed, as he wiped his mouth and flicked his hand over the food. “Fix yourself a plate. Forgive me for doubting that you were an Orlando. The fact that you easily killed several of my bodyguards, including the two who were put on you the moment you landed, amused and irritated me. Now, it just pleases me because my prodigal son is back home. So eat up.”

Doing as he said, I filled my plate and ate as I explained, “I have a gift for detecting patterns, remember, Father? I studied how they watched the land and house then I took them down with patience. Watch the wolf, then become the wolf.”

My father gave a wide smile. I saw a flicker of pride in his eyes that I remembered his lessons; then he spoke.

“I will put the necessary people on it to help you find information on my namesake’s whereabouts, but it will be I who will help you in the actual search. You are correct, Antonio: no man allows another to take from him. You remembered me telling you that and that makes me proud. See, a man who allows another to take from him is a weak bastard and a weak bastard can never be trusted or allowed to live,” he stated. “That is my granddaughter; no man has the right to take her.”

“Thank you,” I started to say before he held a hand up.

“I have no need to explain to you that when you find this person, you will disembowel him or her, yes?”

Stabbing my fork into my eggs I took a bite, wiped my mouth, and then stared him in the eyes. “No, sir. No need to explain that at all.”

“You still scared of dogs?”

I chuckled, recalling that the fear I had of them was long gone due to him. “No, sir.”

“You still enjoy cutting up insects and studying them?” he asked after I answered him.

“Very much so. It is why I am a doctor.”

He waved a hand, and several staff came from the house. He told them to bring out more food. “Then you have a plan?” he asked once they left.

“Yes, sir.”

Silence was our friend again. Three of the people I vividly remembered as my niece and nephews strolled into the large gazebo where we sat in my father’s gardens perched on a cliff that overlooked a beach and waves. A young woman with a long ponytail swaying over her breast stepped to Caltrone, gave him a kiss on his cheek, then sat by his side when he motioned for her to. Another, male and younger, sat by his side with a smile on his face; and the third, a male with a darkness in his eyes, stood at his back watching me. Maria-Rosa, Mark, and Freddie were younger than I but I remembered their faces.

“Familia,” I said sitting forward.

“Maria-Rosa, Mark, and Freddie, I want you three to do something for me. We have a delicate situation that needs rectifying. It would seem that your long-lost uncle is in need of help. His daughter has gone missing. Gather everything you can and give him the information. We do not allow family to go unaccounted for, understood?” Caltrone stated.

Everyone gave him their okays, then he continued, “In the meantime, we will be celebrating my son’s return and you three will bring him into the fold. He is a doctor, which is something that we need in this family.”

Tension began to dance over the back of my neck as I watched everyone’s expressions. I wasn’t disturbed by the distrust in their eyes; what I had a problem with was the calculating manner that was in Mark’s eyes and Caltrone’s. Shit was eerie but I made sure not to show I was shaken by it. If it was destiny to fall by their hands, so be it. I lived an honorable life and lived it well. I had no regrets, yet, and I wasn’t about to let them plant any in me.

“Antonio, as they dig for information on your daughter, after you debrief them on everything you’ve already found, and after we conclude our family welcoming, you and I will start our training again. You’re a doctor and I wish to see if you can be a killer at the same time like your elder brother Lu once was.”

Keeping my cool, my stomach clenched. Lu. I hated that motherfucker. Nigga had serious issues as a child and, from what I had heard on the national circuit, nigga was still bat shit loco until the day he died. He even had his son Damien tear up Atlanta while he rotted in prison. The fact that Caltrone was sending me that way annoyed me but I kept it to myself. In this family, my mother explained, loyalty wasn’t formed just through dedication; it was formed by what you could do for the family and how you did it.

Turning into a killer wasn’t going to be easy but I had to show that I meant what I said. “I’ll do whatever to show my worth, Father.”

“Good. Now that you’re home, you will be given the lessons and allowances you need to be an heir,” he laid out for me to understand. “Do you have a wife?”

“No, sir. Jewel’s mother, Kenya, and I co-parent,” I explained.

“And she does what?”

Even though I was sure he already knew the answer to the question, my mother was right; Caltrone was about appearances and the purity of the family bloodline. If anyone lay with someone he felt wasn’t worthy of an Orlando, then that person and their child would forever be deemed as nothing but a mutt to him. Though I was his son, the woman I chose to create life with also had to be worthy of my time and seed, which in turn would protect my daughter from my father’s disdain.

“She owns her own bakery; however, she used to be a practicing prosecuting lawyer.”

Caltrone’s eyes lit up. “Ah, her brains and yours are the reason Jewel is so gifted. It is unfortunate that my granddaughter’s youth got her in this situation.”

“I agree,” I said. The idea that my daughter was with some Internet lech and fell for such bullshit really fucked with my mental, but I wasn’t about to show that. I rubbed the side of my neck then dropped my hand.

“Good. Everyone leave us,” he said. One by one, my niece and nephews left me with my father. He sat in a haze of smoke, studying me before he said, “Now, on to the second part of our agreement.”

Exhaling, I pulled out my cell, and dialed my mother who was in Jamaica waiting for me. I was now in with Caltrone. Whatever came with it, I had no choice but to deal with because I was willing to sacrifice my all for her. This was my battle. No one fucks with my daughter.

“It is nice to hear your voice again, Carmen. It’s been too long, sí?” the man said into the phone.

I stood just inside the back door of the house. I watched as three of Caltrone’s grandchildren strolled back. They passed me without a second thought, although the one they called Mark let his eyes linger on me a bit too long. Why I was in Caltrone’s mansion would be a mystery to some. Not to me and not to that man. I’d stood there and listened to the whole exchange between him and Antonio. For as long as I’d known my child’s father, not once had he mentioned he came from the dick of the Caltrone Orlando. Since Antonio carried his mother’s last name, I never put two and two together.

My daughter was missing so I hoped Tone didn’t think I would just continue to sit idly by. It was in my blood to fight and fight hard. I knew something was wrong. Knew it as soon as he called me that day with the weight of the world on his shoulders and angst in his voice. Jewel was a good kid for the most part, but she and her father often clashed because of his strict rules. I made it my business to never go behind his back when it came to disciplining her. If he told her something then his word was law.

Tone had spoiled her but, at the same time, he was stern. I knew why he was that way. He didn’t want our child to end up pregnant like I was as a teenager. I respected that and I wanted the same thing. Jewel often hated the fact that she couldn’t come to me and make me say yes when her father had said no.

Tone told me he didn’t want me to join him in looking for her. He wanted me to keep watch at home just in case she came back. He must have forgotten who I was and what resources I had at my disposal. Yes, I spent all my days baking now but, before I knew pastry, I knew the law. All those contacts I had before deciding to leave the State as a prosecutor were still of use to me. And none of them could get us any closer to finding our daughter. So, I came to the one man who owed me a favor.

Before all of that, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Kenya. At sixteen years old, I found myself pregnant and scared. Nine months later, Jewel came kicking and screaming into the world. Antonio and I had no business becoming parents that young, but it was what it was. We made the best of it. I didn’t have a mother growing up. I was in and out of foster homes. I’d been to the juvenile detention hall way more than I cared to admit.

One day I met a boy who nobody knew much about. Tone was quiet. Didn’t say too much to anybody. People thought he was crazy or something, but me? I thought he was unique. There was something about him that made me go against the grain and speak to him.

There I was, fifteen years old, with my first crush on a boy. His hair was curly, coarse, and unkempt; and anytime I looked into his eyes they reminded me of an . . .