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“Then Jean-Pierre called me this morning and said to keep my mouth closed and no longer pursue the matter further.”
The elevator returned to the floor and the doors opened.
Frustration bubbled inside me. “They’re all hiding shit from me because they don’t want Lunita to come out.”
It was a conclusion I was becoming increasingly certain of, the pieces of the puzzle aligning in a way that made sense, yet left me feeling uneasy.
I bet Ufuoma did something to Max, and they know I would kill her over it.
Lemon disturbed my thoughts. “What do you need me to do, Emily?”
“Nothing right now.” I pulled out my phone, dialed the Butcher, and placed the device at my ear. “I’ve got it.”
Up ahead, Max, Paolo, Harlem, and three guards crowded into the elevator.
The doors slid shut.
Meanwhile, the phone rang twice, before the line clicked, and Jean-Pierre’s voice filled the air. “You have impeccable timing.”
“Why?”
“We are boarding a plane to head your way.”
I stopped walking toward the elevator. “New Orleans?”
“Yes.”
Oh shit.
Jean-Pierre’s involvement meant the Cartel situation was super serious, yet I couldn’t help but feel a bit more grounded knowing he was coming. His expertise and calm demeanor had a way of making the insurmountable seem manageable. “Why are you coming?”
“Have you ever heard the term pissing contest?”
“Of course.”
“It makes sense. The first use of the term was in the United States. 1940 or 1943. Sometime around then—”
“J.P., where is this going?”
“Some have said pissing duel or pissing match, but regardless it is a game in which participants compete to see who can urinate the highest, the farthest, for the longest, or the most accurately.”
I smirked. “So, you’re coming to New Orleans to piss on us?”
“A pissing contest is usually associated with adolescent boys.”
“And?”
“Even more, pissing contests are not unique to humans.”
“Man, would you get to the point.”
“Lobsters have been known to hold copious amounts of urine so that during a duel, they can squirt it out through a pair of muscular nozzles beneath their antennas.”
“Why is this important?”
“Lobsters can shoot it out over five feet in front of them in a plume of liquid—”
“Alright. Now I won’t be eating lobster anytime soon.”
