Smoke and Mirrors (DE)

44. Saw a ghost pt. 2

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Joseph scrunched up his face in disgust, allowing cigar smoke to billow from his mouth leaving a bitter after taste on his tongue as he examined the Cuban cigar. He'd never smoked one before until now, but always saw Al with one sandwiched between his meaty index and middle finger— and after declining all his previous offers to try one, Joseph decided to finally give it a shot and was thoroughly disappointed. They tasted how they smelled— like shit, and all they did was make you light headed. He'd stick to his weed.

" I ain't gone hold you— this taste like shit," Joseph mumbled trying to hold in a cough, shaking his head and putting the thick cigar out in the crystal ash tray on the table.

Al, Rich, and Joseph all sat around a table in the backyard of Al's Spanish villa on the water smoking cigars. The older Joseph got, the more he enjoyed doing stuff like this. Now he finally understood why all the old heads used to stay on their porches from sun up till sun down not doing a damn thing— because it's peaceful. Except he gets to do it on the grounds of multimillion dollar homes over looking the salty turquoise ocean.

" That's cause these for grown men, you still a boy," Al jested with the cigar pressed between his lips, patting Joseph on the back roughly. " I can still smell the Similac on yo breath,"

Joseph made an unamused expression setting the cigar down.

" Hefe!"

All three men looked up seeing one of Al's men escorting another man Joseph had never seen to them. He was tall and slender, dressed in a suit. The man looked to be around Al's age, mid 50s maybe but very fit like he took great care of his health.

Al cracked a menacing grin, pulling his cigar from his mouth and holding his arms out wide as he turned in his seat. " To what do I owe the honor?" He cackled, a tinge of sarcasm in his voice. " Jo, Rich, this is the President of Cuba— Miguel Castro. Please, have a seat," Al offered.

Miguel looked every bit of unamused, his face held a cold glare as he reached into the inside of his suit producing a rolled up newspaper article, tossing it onto the table subsequently declining Al's offer to sit with the men. Miguel stood quietly watching as Al unfolded the newspaper, reading the Spanish written article.

" I though we had a deal Alvaro. You lay low and I allow you to continue your business as long as you pay me— correct?" Miguel questioned sternly.

Al clenched his jaw, setting down the news paper calmly and puffing on his cigar.

" We haven't had any cartel activity in almost twenty years and you go and pull a stunt like this dropping a body off at the council building like a dead rat," Miguel spat angrily. " Now my people are in fear because you killed the Chief of Police. Now I have to figure out a way to cover this up," He yelled, snatching the news paper back off the table.

Al continued to puff on his cigar nonchalantly.

" If you disrespect me like this again, I will take you down myself— all of you," Miguel threatened through clenched teeth finally averting his stare away from Al and now acknowledging Richard and Joseph as well.

Al and Miguel went way back, back to when Miguel was just a candidate for congress— way before he even thought about running for presidency over Cuba. Back when the Cuban Cartel operated off fear. They had a long standing battle with the police. Unlike American gangs, the Cartel would actually go to war with the hierarchy of Cuba— shootouts with the police in broad day light, kidnapping congressmen for ransom, assassinating judges and court officials. That is, until Miguel became the president and Al became the head of the organization.