I delve into the background information we discovered on Richard. His emails, threats, blackmailing, abuses of power, kidnappings, rapes, tortures, and soliciting as they all revolve around Winnie and the women and children from Puerto Rico. I follow up with the information provided to us about how Richard and Jimmy planned my own mother’s murder right under the Heads’ noses. Janis looks paler and paler as each statement of fact rattled off.
Fletcher walks around the table, passing everyone copies of reports gathered, email exchanges, pictures taken… evidence on top of bloody evidence damning Richard Broussard and his would-be self-empire.
The guys all take their turns explaining the container, the warehouse, the blow by blows that took out numerous Asesinos’ gang members as well as some of Richard’s personal hired soldiers.
“God be merciful,” I hear Camila Landry murmur as she clutches her pearls around her neck, looking sickened by the photographic evidence of the container and its ‘contents.’
Lastly, Winnie stands up on shaky legs and gives her impact statement to the room full of the most influential people in New Orleans.
Janis is openly sobbing at this point though I don’t know if it’s for her worries over Winnie or for the loss of her husband. She is a weak woman. Too many years of abuse from Richard, and her alcoholism let her check out from reality for too long. I’ve been there. I’ve been an abuse victim myself, but I became stronger. I pulled myself out of that pit of despair and self-loathing. Hell, Winnie is a shining example of pulling one’s self up and making do. If Janis needs a hand up, I’ll be that hand, but I will not let her pull Winnie or Holder down again.
All the Head members of the Saupoudrer family turn to me. Eyes in shock, some in horror, some in tears…
With steady eyes and a firm voice, I tell the group, “Richard Broussard is dead.”
The room is so silent you could hear a pin drop, until it wasn’t. All the men and women are out of their seats wanting to know the who, what, when, where, why, and how.
Putting my hand up, I silence the room. “Before I go on. I have two requests.” Everyone takes their seats again.
“First, I request Janis Broussard be stripped of her head position pending further investigation into Richard Broussard’s background plans. I understand this will require a vote, and I am happy to take myself out of that equation, but at this point- I suggest she seek professional help for her alcoholism. I am not trying to shame you, Janis.” I angle myself, so I have her full attention. “I’ve had issues of my own in my life, but I will not let you bury your head in the sand anymore. You are a woman in power, and you have the ability to do great things, but right now, being here, it is not your time. I have a friend, a head in the Nakamura Yakuza locally. She is willing to take you in. They have the resources and the time to help you. They are also working with the women and children that were rescued from Dick’s greedy paws. Perhaps doing a little community service with them would do you some good.”
“But I-I-I didn’t have anything to do with what you said Richard did.” Janis pleads.
“Maybe not, but you didn’t stop all those years where he lashed out at Holder and Winifred, did you?”
“I’ll go.” She gulps, standing from her chair and walking towards the door.
“Janis?” She stops at the door to turn back to me, “Winnie is kind, fierce, and brave. Holder is loyal, determined, and strong. They are nothing like you, but maybe one day, you can be like them.” She looks at both her children with a small smile of love, and maybe a bit of hope, and shuts the door behind her.
“What’s your second request?” Emma Brock, Cole’s mother, asks.
“For Winnie to leave the room now. She doesn’t need to hear the details I’m about to tell you about Richard’s death.”
Without waiting for any further instructions, Dante pulls her chair out and leads Winnie out of, the room, Bastien and Auggie following behind.
Finally, I settle down to tell my side of the story.
After several minutes of my fucked-up retelling of everything that went down in Miami, the remaining heads asked The Sons of Fortune, and myself, to leave for a few minutes while deciding my fate. Like that isn’t ominous as fuck.
__________
We all decide to head back to Clint’s to celebrate. The guys ride with me in my Land Rover again, and Winnie and her guys follow behind us caravan style.
In a strange turn of events, all the Heads, every damn one of them, decided to give up their positions to the other Sons of Fortune, their eldest heirs. The fact that all this business with Richard, my Old Man, the Asesinos- all under the other heads’ noses threw them for a loop. They decided fresh blood, and eyes, and ears were needed and we fit the bill completely.
It didn't hurt that Emma had been begging for a real vacation for years, and this was a perfect excuse for it.
Walking into the house, I can already smell Judy is in the kitchen cooking something delicious. Walking over, I give her a kiss on the cheek, and she squeezes my hand resting on her shoulder. I have a feeling she already knows what went down at headquarters without me saying a thing.
“Do you think maybe I can help cook something? Blue showed me how to make a couple desserts.” Winnie asks quietly.
Judy turns around from the sink, looking at Winnie harshly. “Well, you were shit for a waitress…” but then her grin breaks out, “Ya got to be better at cooking, right? Break out the mixing bowls, girlie. I’m in the mood for banana pudding!” Making Winnie squeal with happiness as she starts to search the cabinets for ingredients.
As I exit the kitchen, I hear Judy explaining to Winnie the difference between wanting and needing something, along the lines of she wants a smokin’ body, but she needs banana pudding. Their joint laughter making me smile.
I walk through the living room and see the guys are spread out all over, passing around beers, and turning a football gamel on the tv; some random music plays softly in the background. Everyone seems happy and content. The way it was always meant to be.
I go upstairs and put some extra treats down for my sweet boy, Donut, and then detour the restroom. My stomach just hasn’t felt right the last couple of weeks, and I’ve been putting this off too long.
Finally, getting the strength to walk out of the bathroom, I go and perch on the side of the bed and sit the test on the nightstand beside me. After what I'm guessing is a few minutes, I look down at the test. “Fuck me… two pink lines...” I mumbled to myself while scrubbing my face and contemplating how to handle this. Hiding the test in a drawer. I scoop Donut back up on my shoulder and take him downstairs to see what’s cooking for dinner. I need to think of something else for a while…
Everyone is gathering in the formal dining room, around the bigger table, setting plates and utensils down, and laying food dishes spread out all over the tabletop. Placing Donut on one of the perches by the window so I can go grab the pitcher of water and start to fill everyone’s glasses when Donut starts screeching.
“Fuck me- Two Pink Lines! Fuck me- Two Pink Lines!”
The silence is deafening as all eyes turn to me...
THE END