by Ashley
Kalil stood and shook hands with Hova before he exited the room. He shook his head in astonishment as he walked back down to the main floor of the club was. Damn, twelve a fucking kilo and I ain’t trying to fuck with it? Kalil felt like a fool for walking away from a deal like that.
He located Quinn by the bar, where he was kicking game to some chick. He approached him and waited until he was done speaking with the female before he said, “Let’s get up out of here.”
“Everything all right, fam?” Quinn asked, ready to handle any beef that may have surfaced.
“Yeah, everything’s one hundred, man. I just want to scoop Jada before she drives Roxi crazy.”
Quinn ditched the chick he was kicking it with, and they walked out of the club. He was eager to hear what happened in Hova’s office. “What did Hov have to say?”
“Not much. He just welcomed me home.”
Kalil knew that Quinn would call him crazy for turning down Hova’s proposition. He turned up the stereo as 50 Cent’s debut CD pumped through the speakers. Kalil and Quinn still bobbed their heads to the classic song, “Many Men,” and rode in silence the rest of the way home.
“Bye, Daddy!” Jada yelled as she ran into school the next day. She had been attending the performing arts school since kindergarten and she loved it. Before she got to the entrance she ran back to her father, who was standing on the curb. “I love you. Don’t forget about my dance lessons after school.”
Kalil kneeled so they could be eye to eye. He took his thumb and cleaned some leftover sleep out of her eye. “What time you get out?”
“Five o’clock. You’re going to pick me up, right, Daddy?”
“Yeah, I’ll be here. Be good today, baby girl.” He kissed the top of her head, and she ran off with a huge smile on her face.
Kalil began to walk back toward Quinn’s house. Quinn had some business to take care of, so Kalil had to walk Jada to school that morning. It wasn’t a big deal, since Quinn only lived six blocks from Jada’s school, but it was embarrassing, to say the least.
Kalil was used to being on top. In his twenty-seven years, he’d earned hundreds of thousands of dollars, and there was a time when he could get anything he wanted. Those times were long gone, though, and he was having a hard time adapting to his newfound struggle. He wanted to do the right thing. He was trying his hardest to walk a straight line and stay out of the game, but nobody was willing to give him a break. I just need a job, yo, for real. I can’t stay down like this for too much longer. He knew that he had to take care of his daughter. He refused to let her go without and realized that the older she got, the more she’d need. He wanted to be able to give her the world and more.
As he walked back to Quinn’s house, he noticed the construction zone that took up an entire block, and the sign: EXPERIENCED WORKERS NEEDED—$24/HOUR. He looked up at the large half-constructed buildings and decided that he didn’t have anything to lose. He needed a job, and if this was a paying gig, he was willing to do it. He walked into the construction zone and made his way to the trailer that sat in the middle of all the ruckus and knocked loudly.
Someone shouted, “Come on in!”
Kalil stepped inside the office and saw a short man sitting behind a desk and puffing on a cigar.
The man looked up from the paperwork that sat in front of him, his deep brow wrinkled in a frown. “Who the fuck are you?” he asked in his Italian accent.
“I’m here to apply for the job.”
The man looked Kalil up and down. “Apply for the job, huh. Do you have any experience?”
“Yeah, I’m familiar with this type of work. I did some construction in Jersey some years back,” he lied.
The man continued to eye Kalil with contempt. It was almost as if he looked down at Kalil, like he thought he was better than him. But Kalil ignored the man’s degrading demeanor. He was just looking for a job.
“We really need some help around here. Think you can handle it?” The man pointed his cigar at Kalil, waiting for an answer.
“Yeah, I know how to do the job,” Kalil replied through gritted teeth. He could tell that the man didn’t like him much, but he didn’t care. He needed to make some money, and this job was his last option. Quinn was being very understanding by letting him crash at his spot, but Kalil didn’t like to depend on anybody for anything, even if it was family.
“What’s your name, boy?”
“Kalil,” he replied, shifting his stance uncomfortably. He didn’t appreciate the man’s blatant disregard, but he bit his tongue. “Yo, do you got room for me or not?”
The man looked at him harshly. He didn’t like Kalil. In fact, he didn’t like anybody whose skin was darker than a temporary suntan, but he needed workers.
Just from the looks of Kalil he could tell that he wasn’t a part of a union, which meant he didn’t have to pay him union wages. His eyes scanned the young man before him. He quickly noticed the jailhouse tattoos on Kalil’s arms and smirked to himself. He could sense Kalil’s desperation. Since nobody in New York was trying to hire an ex-con, he knew Kalil would accept the bogus offer that he was about to make.
I’ll pay him peanuts just to get this project done. He rose from his desk. “Look, kid, I don’t usually hire your people, especially since you got a record, but I’m going to give you a shot. You start today. Be on time, and don’t come in here with your baggy pants and your fucking black slang. My name is Mr. Moretti, and don’t ask me any fucking questions. You keep up with the other men, then maybe—just maybe—I’ll keep you on board. You’ll make thirteen dollars an hour. Here, fill out this application.”
At the sound of Moretti’s name, Kalil instantly knew who he was. The Moretti family was infamous in Manhattan for their extortion and cocaine business. He knew that the construction company had to be a front business. He remembered back when he was Moretti’s competition. Now he was trying to be his employee. Ain’t this about a bitch, Kalil thought. “Thirteen dollars? The sign out front says twenty-four.”
“The sign out front is for good Italian men. I know your type. You’ve got to find a job to keep the parole officer off your ass. I’ll help you out, but we do this on my terms. You I pay thirteen dollars. Take it or leave it,” the fat man huffed.
If this had happened a couple years earlier Kalil would have left the man slumping in the gutter, but those days were long gone. Now he was broke and just trying to raise a little girl. He had to accept the job, wack wages and all.
“I’ll take it.”
Kalil filled out the application and threw it on Mr. Moretti’s desk. Then he walked out of the office and looked around the construction site before hesitantly making his way over to a cement truck. He stood around and watched the men work.
“Why are you just standing around?” one of the foremen yelled to him as he struggled with a long metal beam. “Give me a hand with this.”
Kalil grabbed one end of the beam, and the two men spread wet cement evenly across the ground. That was just the beginning of a long and exhausting day.
Kalil worked for nine straight hours in the beaming sun, cement and sweat covering his shirt. For the first time in his life he experienced a hard day’s work. Money usually came very easy to him, so hard labor was an eye-opener for him. Damn! Man, I been working all fucking day and I only made a hundred dollars. This shit ain’t worth it.
Exhausted, he stopped to take a break. He walked into the boss’ trailer to grab some water and noticed the time. Damn! I forgot about Jada. He took off the borrowed hard hat and tossed it to the ground, rushed out the door, and took off in a sprint to get to his daughter’s school.
He arrived there around six o’clock and found it almost deserted. I was supposed to be here an hour ago. He entered the school and could hear the sound of classical music coming from the auditorium. He was hoping that the class had run late so that Jada wouldn’t think he’d forgotten about her. He walked into the auditorium and stopped as his breath caught in his throat at the
sight of the woman onstage, her dark brown skin tone glistening from the sweat that had formed on her body, and her long chestnut-colored hair swinging wildly as she danced across the stage in her black leotard and ballerina shoes.
Kalil had never seen a ballerina before, but he figured that the woman before him had to be the best. The way she moved her body was nothing short of amazing. Almost hypnotic. He quietly took a seat at the back of the auditorium, making sure not to disturb her. He watched her slender, flexible body spin and bend to the violins in the music. He couldn’t help but stare at her. There was a passion in the way she danced that intrigued him. Not to mention, she was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. An exotic beauty, she wasn’t your average around-the-way–type girl, but seemed to be filled with class and elegance. And there was a sophisticated sparkle in her eye.
The music became more intense, and finally she ended her dance with a dramatic fall to the stage. It was almost like she was crying through her performance. Kalil cleared his throat and rose from his seat.
His presence startled her, and she jumped up in embarrassment and made her way to the sound system that contained the CD she’d just danced to.
“I’m sorry, ma. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said as he walked to the edge of the stage. It wasn’t until she turned around that he recognized her. It was the same girl that he’d seen in the club a couple nights before.
“My name’s not ma, it’s London. And don’t worry about it, you didn’t scare me,” she said with an attitude.
Kalil could hear the island accent that graced her pretty lips. He stared at her for a minute, causing her to blush and look away.
“Is there something that I can do for you?” She looked him up and down, taking in his dirty appearance. She frowned as she waited for him to reply. “Excuse me,” she said, snapping him out of his trance.
“Oh yeah, my daughter Jada. I’m here to pick her up. I know I’m a little late, but I just got off work.”
“Well, Jada’s already been picked up.” London slipped on a sweater that hung loosely over her right shoulder and pulled her hair up into a long ponytail before she continued. “I called her mother about a half-hour ago, and she sent someone to get her. I thought it was her father, but now that I’ve met you, I guess he must have been a friend of the family.”
“What! Who picked her up?” Kalil didn’t mean to yell, but just the thought of Fatboy picking up his daughter had him enraged.
London frowned. She wanted to tell him to check his tone, but it was obvious that he was worried about his child, so she let it go. “Let me grab the sign-out log. He had to sign it to get her. I’ve seen his face before, so I’m sure everything’s okay.” She dug through her gym bag and pulled out a clipboard.
Kalil scanned the list until he affirmed what he already knew. Fatboy’s name was written in sloppy handwriting next to Jada’s.
“Is everything okay?”
Kalil didn’t even respond to her question. He rushed out of the gym and ran most of the way to Quinn’s house.
He quickly borrowed Quinn’s car and drove over to Destiny’s. He didn’t see Fatboy’s car outside. He didn’t even bother to knock before entering the house. He barged in and slammed the door behind him. “Jada!” he yelled as he pushed past Destiny.
“Fuck you doing?” she asked as she walked behind him.
“If something happens to her, I’m gon’ kill you.” Kalil pointed his finger in her face and pushed her aside.
“Nigga, what is you talking about?” she yelled. “Don’t be coming up in here starting no shit!”
“Where is my daughter?” he yelled.
Jada emerged from her room, still wearing her pink leotard. “I’m right here, Daddy.”
He bent down and picked her up as he hugged her tightly.
“Daddy, you’re squeezing me too tight.”
Jada laughed as Kalil continued to hold her. He leaned back to make sure that every single hair was in place on her head. His dirty hand caressed her youthful cheeks.
Jada could see the tears that had formed in his eyes. “Daddy, you’re getting my clothes dirty,” she whined.
Kalil kissed her on the cheek and put her down. “I’m sorry. Daddy will get it cleaned for you. Go to your room, baby girl.”
Destiny was standing in the middle of the kitchen with her hand on her hips. She didn’t have a clue as to why he’d come in her crib tripping.
“Keep that nigga away from my daughter.”
“Kalil, why are you tripping? If you were there to pick her up like I told you, I wouldn’t have had to call Fatboy to pick her up.”
“What the fuck were you thinking? Don’t have that nigga around my daughter! You don’t know shit about that mu’fucka. He got beef with niggas from all over and you got Jada out here riding with him like she’s his shorty. That ain’t his seed,” Kalil yelled, “she’s mine.”
“Kalil, please . . . ain’t nobody trying to take your place. He doesn’t want to be Jada’s daddy.”
“You don’t think, Destiny. Damn! It wasn’t too long ago that I almost had that nigga put to sleep. What if some shit popped off while she was with him? What if she got hit by a stray bullet behind some beef that stupid mu’fucka got? Huh? You think you’re so smart. You ain’t in the streets. You don’t know shit about Fatboy, besides what his dick look like. Keep him away from Jada.”
“You are really tripping right now. Her dance instructor called and said that my baby was still at the school, so I sent Fatboy to pick her up. Ain’t shit happened to her yet. I been taking care of her just fine without you, so don’t be trying to flip on me about how I take care of her now.” Destiny mumbled to herself, “Nigga wanna come home trying to play daddy,” and flipped her hand, signaling that she was done with the conversation.
Before storming out of the house, Kalil said, “You heard what I said, Destiny—Keep his ass away from my daughter before I kill him!”
Destiny followed him to the door. “Well, make sure your ass is on time tomorrow, since your little girl is too precious to get a ride from anybody else!”
Chapter Four
Kalil finished his morning routine and walked into the living room, where Quinn, a blunt hanging out of his mouth, was playing Xbox. Kalil walked past him, and without exchanging words, they smacked palms.
Kalil headed straight for the kitchen to get something to eat. He glanced over at the calendar on the fridge and noticed today was the day he had to see his parole officer. “Damn, I almost forgot about that shit,” he said to himself as he fixed himself a bowl of cereal.
Kalil dreaded going to work, but he had to. It was the only thing he could do to make some money. The only true skill he’d acquired over the years was the ability to hustle; that’s all he knew. And if that was taken from him, he’d be left naked. Destiny had run through the money that he had stashed away for a rainy day while he was still locked up, so he was back to square one.
Quinn had offered him a partnership in his weed hustle, but Kalil had been in the game long enough to know that this was a dead end. Quinn had been selling weed for five years and was still in the same position, living in the same projects, driving the same car. To Kalil the risk outweighed the reward, so he passed.
Kalil returned to the living room with a big bowl of Frosted Flakes in his hands. “Fam, I got to go and see my P.O. today. Will you shoot me up there?”
“I can’t do it. I got some money coming through today, so I got to stay put. Here you go.” Quinn dug in his pockets to search for his keys. He pulled them out and tossed them to Kalil. The keys landed right in his cereal.
Kalil was agitated, but he couldn’t help but laugh. They both chuckled at the incident, and then Kalil prepared to take off.
He drove down the highway rapping along with Jay-Z’s song. The song reminded Kalil of his old hustler’s mentality.
Home for only two weeks, he’d repeatedly contemplated visiting his old connect. He knew all he had to d
o was say the word and Hova would bless him with some bricks of the East Coast’s best cocaine. He’d done four years and had never once mentioned Hova’s name. The thought of snitching never crossed his mind. He was facing twenty years for the coke he was caught with, but an illegal search hindered the prosecution’s case. Instead of the intent to distribute charge, he ended up being sentenced for four to six years for possession. Every time he thought of returning to the streets, he kept thinking about Jada. He vowed not to leave her side again. He wanted to make things right and be a father to her.
Kalil glanced at the clock on the CD player and noticed he had an hour to kill before seeing his parole officer, so he decided to go see Jada. He turned off the highway and headed toward Destiny’s house. When he pulled up to the house, he saw a Benz in the driveway. He knew whose car it was by the plates, which read FATBOY.
Just before Kalil parked on the curb, out came Fatboy. He didn’t even notice Kalil, but the slamming door caught his attention. The two men’s eyes locked, and they both stared at each other intensely. Fatboy threw both of his arms up. He then pulled up his black T-shirt, exposing the rolls in his belly, and his chrome .45.
Kalil already knew what time it was. He didn’t have a gun and didn’t want anything to pop off. He just said, “I’ll see you in the streets, homeboy.”
“That’s what I thought.” Fatboy smirked and got into his Benz, satisfied that he’d just belittled Kalil.
Kalil waited until Fatboy pulled off and then entered the house. I’m going to get at his fat ass. As soon as he pushed open the cracked door, the smell of sex crept through his nose. He made his way back to Destiny’s room. He opened the door and saw her naked body sprawled across the bed, her bald vagina in clear view as she lightly snored. He still admired her perfect bronze body and loved the way she kept her “lil’ mama” shaved. He was tempted to hit it, but he knew the drama that would come along with that. He knew if he had sex with her, she would think that things were back to normal and he didn’t want to mislead her, knowing how attached she could get.
