by Tya Marie
“I can’t believe I’m doing this all over again twenty-one years later,” he said, staring down at Chunky. “Little man, you are going to have to be extra patient with your old man. My knees aren’t what they used to be, my prescription in my glasses is a little stronger, and I’m in bed every night by nine.”
Normani snorted in her sleep. “I can’t believe I fell in love with an old man. I guess I’ll be changing two sets of diapers, huh?”
“Don’t act like you ain’t know what it was when we met, young lady. You love my geriatric ass; in another thirty years you’ll happily wheel me around the city.”
She slapped a hand over her face, giggling at the absurdity. “I’m willing to do all that and more as long as you don’t fight me on taking Viagra.”
“Normani, I put you to sleep—”
“See, that’s the part where I head home to get some sleep and pack a bag,” I said, rising from my chair, hands up in surrender. “While I’m gone, please refrain from trying to prove each other right…”
“Nothing wrong with a little Viagra; I used to spike one of my main squeeze’s drink with that little blue pill. His dick needed some milk,” Granny said casually, coming in prepped and ready to hold Chunky. She accepted him from Daddy, who was retching from her proclamation. “Look at Grandma’s baby! So handsome with that Mackenzie nose! And your little lips! Let me sit down and shape your head before you look like your cousin Marjorie’s son. I told her to let me shape that baby’s head, but she refused to listen. Now that poor baby is walking around looking like an egg head!”
I slapped my hand over my mouth. “Granny!”
“She’s lucky he has a head full of hair or else I would be praying overtime for him…”
Normani placed a hand on her stomach, holding it as she cracked up with laughter. “Gladys, why are you like this?”
“The better question is how will Marjorie explain to her child that he can only wear visors when he’s older. Right, Grandma’s baby?”
There was a commotion at the door. Trish, Nicole, and Pam appeared, laden with gifts and breakfast. Daddy slid out of bed, throwing on some clothes to greet the men, who were waiting in the living room. While Trish and Pam doted over Normani, who didn’t want to be seen until she was in full glam, Nicole tugged me into the next room, closing and locking the door behind us.
“Where is your phone?” she said through gritted teeth.
I reached into my pants pocket. “It’s right here. I had it on silence since last—”
Nicole slapped the phone from my hand, sending it flying across the room. “Where—is—your—phone!”
“What the fuck is wrong with you!” I shouted.
“What the fuck is wrong with me?” she echoed. “I was supposed to be here while my daughter gave birth to her first child, and instead I was handling business for you!”
“I don’t have any business!”
Nicole crossed her arms. “You would if you answered your other fucking phone! Go find it!”
The men were sitting on the couch engaging in a stilted conversation as I passed through. At least they were kind enough to spare me the embarrassment of having to pass through in silence. I felt a pang of guilt as I watched Trish style Normani’s hair, thinking of how I was able to enjoy my brother before everyone else. In a show of solidarity, Daddy and Koi were in the bedroom when I reappeared holding my purse, rummaging through it for my burner phone. Nicole sat at the edge of the small desk, waiting for me to check my phone. I gasped at the activity on the screen. I had well over twenty calls, all from different members of my team.
“Your shipment was stolen at the Port of Newark.”
My throat dried up. “What? No one was supposed to know when it was coming—”
“Kelsey, there is no such thing as no one knowing! You think people don’t watch in order to make a pattern?”
“There is no pattern. I made sure the dates are changed regularly and they are—”
“Are you sure about that?” Nicole barked over me.
I turned to my father. “Tell her to back up off of me!”
“He doesn’t have the authority to tell me shit!” Nicole shouted. In a lower voice, she said, “I got the call around twelve last night. While the shipment was being unloaded, our team was held up by a team of five. A gunfight broke out and we lost two people and a $50 million shipment.”
“I’ll find it,” I said, running my hands through my hair. “A shipment that large will be noticed in the streets. I’ll make some phone calls, see if anyone’s noticed…”
Nicole was staring at me with a knowing look in her eyes. “Done.”
“Have you found them?”
“No,” she replied with mild annoyance, reaching into her waistband and brandishing a gun. She pressed it into my hand. “That’s your fucking job. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to spend some time with my grandchild.”
Nicole left without another word, slamming the door shut, leaving the three of us in stunned silence. I pointed at the door, asking what her problem was. “I give everything to this job. I’m on call twenty-four/seven. I run the businesses, I make sure everything is washed correctly, my entire life has been nothing but working. One night, I take one night off, and everything is my fault?”
“It costs to be the boss,” Daddy said, comforting me with a hug. “You don’t have to do this, Kelsey. The medication is working and I’m more than capable of coming back—”
“No,” I said, shrugging from his grip. “What does it say that every time something goes wrong I call my father to bail me out? I said I would fix this and I will. I know exactly where to start.”
__________
Peace took a pull of his blunt, sizing me up behind the plume of smoke funneling through his lips. He held it out to me, giving it a little wiggle. I ignored him, opening the passenger door to his car without another word. His best friend, Burna, looked up at me like I had lost my mind. I crossed my arms, tapping my foot as I waited for him to get out of my seat. Peace leaned over, locking eyes with Burna and engaging in a silent conversation that had me in his seat a minute later. The tension in the car was thick, suffocating until Peace climbed in, turning on the radio and bopping to his signature playlist.
“Did you do what I told you to?” I asked over the din.
Peace shook his head. “Hell no. Do you know how amateurish it is to put out a BOLO on some bricks? I did what I thought was best.”
“Which was?”
He cut his eyes at me. “I put my ear to the streets—”
“I put my ears to the streets,” Burna corrected.
“Burna used some of his old contacts to find out who’s moved into your territory since you fell off. You know that nigga, Mr. G? Ever since your father cut him out of The Trust he’s been real quiet. Burna found out that he’s the father of not only one son, but five.”
I punched the glove compartment. “Another Trust member? They’re not going to be satisfied until I…I…I can’t fucking believe this.”
“That’s not what you were going to say,” Peace said, cracking a smile. “Speak on it, Kelsey; you’re amongst family. Tell me what you want to do, and we’ll do it.”
Peace stared at me, his eyes saying what he couldn’t bring his mouth to. We had gotten to know each other over the last six months, and what I thought would be an awkward working relationship had turned into a weird friendship. I didn’t grow up with a right hand to help me run The Trust—Briana’s pregnancy prevented her from becoming mine—forcing me to have my own back. Peace filled in when needed, sometimes as a shoulder to lean on, other times as the cleanup crew. Today was one of those shoulder days. Nicole’s diatribe fucked my head up, leaving me feeling useless.
“None of them take me serious,” I said after a moment of self-reflection. “They see nothing but Urban’s daughter and I’m sick of it. I don’t want their respect; I want them to fear me. I want them to stop fucking with me.”
A laugh bubbled
deep in his gut. He flicked my nose. “Say less, baby. I got you.”
__________
The gun in my purse felt like a boulder, weighing my legs down as I studied the Harlem brownstone. Mr. G was a Harlem OG, running the Polar Grounds to 125th with an iron fist. Peace spoke of him with reverence, mentioning how he was one of the few people to make it out of the 80’s crack epidemic unscathed. Funny how all of his friends were serving harsh sentences under Rockefeller drug laws while he was free and steadily building his empire. Or at least he was until we cut off his supply. I did the calculations, and he should’ve ran out of product a month ago, but that’s not what the $20 baggie of coke in Peace’s hand said.
“This shit is pure,” he said, rubbing it across his gums. “Niggas might fuck around and kill a few of these fiends if they don’t cut this a few times.”
“Why don’t you give it a try, Kelsey? Make sure it’s yours before we bust the nigga’s door in,” Burna suggested.
My nose wrinkled in distaste. “I’m good. I trust Peace’s word.”
“Smart answer,” Peace replied, storing the baggie in his jacket pocket. “How do you want play this?”
I reclined my seat, training my eyes on the house. “We wait.”
“Wait? You wait too fucking long and they’ll have your shit all over Harlem by sundown. We need to bust the door open and—”
“Get met with a hail of gunfire by an unknown amount of assailants. Seeing who’s coming and going will give us all the answers we need.”
“You don’t think the product is here,” Burna interjected. “I think it is. His entire team is relying on him in order to eat. More likely than not, he got a little work from someone else to tide them over, but it’s garbage so he decided to dead you on yours. Right now he’s sitting back, waiting to see if you’ll figure out whether or not its him. I bet he got a whole infantry waiting at his stash house for you to kick the door in.”
I shook my head. “I get where you’re coming from, but that’s too sloppy. He knows my father would kill him for pulling something like this, which is why he would never agree to this unless…we need to get into his house right now!”
Neither man hesitated. We hopped out the car at once, crossing the street with our guns drawn. Peace climbed the stairs two at a time, breaching the house first. The door swung in, releasing the aroma of decaying flesh. I internally plugged my nose, entering behind him. The interior of the house was the opposite of the exterior. Broken picture frames littered the steps where bullet holes replaced them on the wall. A once pristine living room had become the home of a shootout, the end result being a destroyed coffee table, couch sliced down the middle, the television on the wall missing.
“Kelsey, get up here!” Peace called from the second level.
The second landing resemble the first. More bullet holes lining the walls, and the area rug lining the hall was flipped in an apparent struggle. Peace stood in the doorway of the last room, a home office that resembled my father’s at home, although smaller. His expression was grim.
“You won’t need that,” he said, moving aside for me to enter.
Tied to a high-winged chair was Mr. G. His head was snapped back revealing a gaping hole underneath his mouth. Gashes covered his chest, tearing his shirt to shreds, covering his pajama shirt in dried blood. I approached his bloated body, raking over the abuse he endured at the hands of his captors. Peace posted up against his desk, his eyes focused on the window.
“He was loyal,” I said, placing my gun in my waistband. “His own kids tortured him to find out where the shipment was being delivered and he never folded.”
Peace shook his head. “Being murdered by your own children has got to be the biggest slap in the face. Imagine creating someone, giving them the best, protecting them, and loving them unconditionally only for them to murder you in cold blood over some shit they could’ve gotten themselves?”
“Greed,” I said, backing out of the office, sick to my stomach. “I need to make a phone call.”
Nicole picked up on the fifth ring. I suspected that she wanted to keep me on my toes, punish me for making her miss one of the most monumental moments of her daughter’s life. However, like me, Nicole pledged herself to the organization. She could be as mad as she wanted, but I knew she would show up for me when it mattered. Right now I needed her more than anyone.
“Nicole,” I admitted as I stood in front of the house. “I am sorry for not taking responsibility earlier. You’re right; I should have been handling my business instead of fighting with a no good—”
“Fighting?” Nicole exclaimed. “I know Quill didn’t put his hands on you…”
“I handled it. I’m calling because I need your help in finding this shipment. G’s sons are somewhere in the city, and you’re the only person I know who can find them.”
“I know.” Nicole let out a laugh. “Do you know why the partnership between your father and I worked out so well? Because he was able to admit when he was wrong. Not only that, he was willing to make the necessary sacrifices to ensure the team as a whole was good. When shit like this happens, it’s not a ‘you’ problem. It effects everyone, down to the corner boys trying to feed their kids. I’m not being hard on you to be a bitch; I’m being hard because I won’t be here forever and I need you at your best.”
The thought of losing Nicole was enough to make me sick to my stomach. “Nicole, don’t talk like that.”
“I will always be real with you, Kelsey. Where are you now?” I gave her my location, and wasn’t surprised when she scoffed. “Them niggas never could do shit on the low. Tell them to get you out of there before someone sees you. Have them bring you to Marsecco’s. I have an idea on how we’ll flush out the product.”
“Okay,” I said, glancing back at the house. What were they doing in there? “Nicole?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
I heard Chunky in the background, making little whining noises of dissent. “Of course. We’re family.”
11
Peace
I sat on the edge of G’s desk, smiling at his dead dumb ass. Loyalty was the mother of stupidity. Niggas like G earned their entire come up off of having their men be loyal to them, and I found it funny that he died on a cross to a nigga that wasn’t loyal to him. The baggie of coke I pulled out in my car was the most Harlem had seen since G was dismissed from The Trust. His entire team took their fall from grace fine at first, thinking their leader had it under control. G did; he thought by biding his time he would be able to get in with Urban at a later date. Weeks passed, months, and Harlem was struggling to stay afloat. Rationing the coke was worse than being tapped out. So when a month ago Burna got a call from an old associate asking if I could help them get some work, I knew this was time to put my plan into motion.
“We gotta wrap this up,” Burna said, pointing to his watch. “My bitch is flying in tonight and I promised her that I would meet her at the airport. You know how Sontee can get…”
Damn right I did. “We’ll head to the block, ask around there. You get a call from another ‘associate’ giving you some new intel on the shipment. Around nine we wrap this up in some light gunplay.”
Mr. G’s bloated body expelled a putrid waft of gasses that decomposing bodies were full of. I felt a pang of guilt for murdering the old head at the start of summer, the rising temperature conflicting with any plans he had to have an open casket funeral. Burna covered his face, fanning the fumes away from him. He was good for dropping a nigga, but the effects of his actions churned his stomach. I slung my arm around him, escorting him down the hall before he threw up and ruined an immaculate crime scene. A thump stopped us at the head of the stairs.
“You head downstairs, I’ll see what that was,” I said with a pat on his back.
On my walk back down the hall I made a right, entering G’s bedroom. On his bed was a tangle of sheets, a slender leg poking out of them. I yanked the sheets back, expecting to be met with blank
eyes staring at the ceiling. Instead they were staring directly at me, dilated with fear. She bucked away from me, her arms tied behind her back, trying to escape the inevitable. No, I shook my head as I grabbed G’s hoe by the throat, lifting her from the bed. Her mouth opened, and out came a scream silenced by her missing tongue. I cut it out myself, giving it to G so he would know the reason why I was able to find out where he rested his head. Lala was loose with her lips after getting some young dick. I suspect fucking G became tiresome as his pockets dried up. That was the reason she gave me when I asked her why she was willing to help set him up. She wanted to spend more time giving orders and less on her back.
“Sorry for the deviation from your plan; I had one of my own,” I explained to her, my grasp on her throat growing tighter. “It didn’t involve some sleazy ass bitch willing to sell her nigga out the minute shit gets real. Niggas had you pegged as an opportunistic sack chaser and I’ll be damned if they weren’t right. You thought of what you planned to say to G when you see him? No? There’s nothing wrong with improvising.”
I squeezed her neck—tight—tingling with pleasure as Lala squirmed for her life, her wiggling stealing the little bit of strength she had left. She moaned in agony, her eyes fixed on mine as they hemorrhaged. With a twist of my hand I snapped her neck, growing bored of the show. Her body went limp, and with another flick I let go, watching as she hit the bed like a broken rag doll. Burna stood at the foot of the staircase, arms crossed as I made my descent.
“Done playing with your food?” he asked, falling in step with me on my way to the door. “That girl could’ve crawled out of bed and made shit real messy for us.”
“After over twenty years of friendship you still don’t trust my capabilities? She wasn’t going anywhere. Besides, that was a show of good faith back there. Scratching the back that scratches mine.”
“If you say so…” Burna replied, shutting the door behind us, wiping the knob down even though we wore leather gloves. “How long you plan on playing with that one?”
