Chapter 263: Unity is Key
"Forget it. Children and grandchildren have their own fortunes to seek," Frank sighed, helpless as always when it came to his kids' romantic entanglements.
He turned his head, only to see Ian watching him with a complicated expression.
"What is it?" Frank asked, confused by the look.
"It's nothing..." Ian opened his mouth as if to say something, then hesitated. In the end, he simply shook his head, said nothing, and went upstairs with his study guide.
Just as Frank was about to ask what that was about, Sammi burst through the door, cheerfully waving a plastic bag.
"Dad, I got steaks~!"
"How are you doing at the bar?" Frank asked as he helped prepare dinner.
"It's fine. I grew up around bars, remember? But I feel like that Russian chick you hired—Anfisa—might be a bit shady," Sammi said.
Sammi didn't know anything about the money laundering. She just thought Anfisa acted secretive at times.
"Then keep an eye on her for me. If anything comes up, let me know right away," Frank replied.
"You could just fire her and let me run the bar instead. That'd save you some money too," Sammi suggested.
"She's important. Leave it alone," Frank shook his head.
"Alright, alright. By the way, Dad, could you tell Carl to include Chuckie when he plays?" Sammi glanced into the living room where Chuckie sat on the couch, motionless, eyes glued to the TV.
Chuckie didn't have any friends. Now that the family was reunited, and Carl—his young uncle—was around, it seemed like a perfect chance. Carl and Chuckie were only a year or two apart in age.
"I'll talk to Carl," Frank said with a sigh, also glancing at Chuckie.
The house had a lot of kids, but the age gaps were tricky. Fiona was in one tier, Lip and Ian in another, then Debbie and Carl, and finally baby Liam, who had just learned to walk. Each group was its own little generation.
Because of these age gaps, each group had their own world. Lip and Ian could hang out and talk about stuff. They confided in each other, being close in age. But their younger brother Carl? He couldn't really join in.
After all, Lip and Ian were almost adults in high school, while Carl had just turned ten and was repeating third grade. There was no way they could talk about the same things.
Maybe in five or six years, when Carl hit fifteen or sixteen, the three of them might have more in common.
And Fiona? She was practically a mom. In their household, the saying "an elder sister is like a mom" rang true. Fiona had taken charge of the household early on, and her relationship with Carl was more like parent and child than siblings.
Debbie and Carl were in the same age group, but Debbie was a girl—and Carl was the classic "problem child." He was wild, destructive, and honestly, a bit annoying. They clashed all the time, constantly fighting and arguing like their horoscopes were out of sync.
Now, the family had a new addition—little Chuckie. Around Carl's age, it should have been a good match.
But Chuckie wasn't the brightest. He had some cognitive impairments. He often sat around, vacant and listless. Carl didn't want to play with him.
So Chuckie was practically invisible in the house. He spent his days eating, watching TV, playing games, or just staring into space.
After dinner, Frank went to Carl's room to talk to him about Chuckie.
"You want me to play with Chuckie? No way. He's dumb," Carl flat-out refused.
Frank's expression twisted a little.
Carl—who had been held back in third grade—calling someone else dumb? It was like Pigsy calling someone fat.
But Frank knew Carl had a point. Carl struggled in school, yes, but in other ways he was a normal kid. Chuckie, on the other hand, had a genuine intellectual disability. It wasn't something that could be helped.
"Regardless, Chuckie is your nephew. We're family. No matter what happens, we have to stick together," Frank said seriously.
"Okay, fine..." Carl mumbled reluctantly, not really understanding, but giving in to his dad's insistence.
"Think about it—every boss has lackeys, right? You can treat Chuckie like your little minion. Get him to run errands for you or do small jobs," Frank added, changing tactics.
Carl's eyes lit up. He looked intrigued.
As Frank chatted with Carl, Debbie suddenly barged into the room.
"Dad! Tell me a story!" she demanded, tugging on Frank's arm.
"No way! He's with me!" Carl protested, pulling on Frank's other side.
It took Frank forever to calm them both down and get the two little monkeys to fall asleep.
When he finally returned to his room, he lay in bed, mind spinning, thinking about the remaining merchandise he had to move.
This time, Frank had brought in sixty pounds of product. He'd only sold half—thirty pounds were still sitting with him.
And he couldn't sell the rest in Chicago.
Frank had already negotiated with the major gangs. They had exclusive distribution rights, like regional agents. Only they could sell Heisenberg's product in the area.
Frank's new product had a signature look and quality. It was unmistakable. Unless some genius like Walter came along to replicate it, there'd be no copying it.
So Frank couldn't just sell to anyone like he was dealing weapons. If he secretly sold to someone else and got caught, the fallout would be immediate.
He had done a few deals with the gangs and built some basic trust. Ruining that to make a few more bucks by dealing with strangers would be foolish—picking up pennies and dropping dollars.
Besides, he already had a stable, monthly distribution arrangement. He didn't want to jeopardize that.
This time, the gangs had only taken thirty pounds because it was a new product. They didn't know the market reaction and wanted to test it out first.
If it was well-received, they'd increase their orders.
Frank had full confidence in Walter's product. So far, no one had said anything negative about it.
Eventually, they could use Chicago as the base to expand outward, covering all of Illinois and even reaching nearby states.
But Frank couldn't wait a whole month to offload the rest of the batch.
That meant he had to sell it somewhere else.
The problem? Frank had only ever worked in Chicago. He didn't have connections elsewhere.
The only other place he knew well was New Mexico. But after thinking it over, he decided: that wasn't an option either.
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