Adored by a Brooklyn Drug Lord 2

by Tya Marie

  Koi pressed on. “Across the street from First United Trust Bank is a deli. Marsecco’s. Tell the owner you're there for lunch. He’ll handle the rest from there.”

  “Urban is going to be livid,” Nicole said, her jaw working.

  “Right now he doesn’t have a fucking choice! Nicole, can you take her before Normani and Trish get back with my grandmother?”

  I could tell that Nicole didn’t like taking orders from Koi, but she kept her mouth shut, turning on her heel and beckoning for me to follow her. Koi gave my hand a reassuring squeeze, telling me I had everything under control. Unsure of what he meant, I replied with a nod, hurrying from the room to catch up with Nicole. We walked along the hospital corridors in silence, with Nicole making phone calls as I hurried behind her. In the privacy of her car, I asked her what was waiting at Marsecco’s.

  “Something above my paygrade,” she repeated Koi's words, her words laced with hurt.

  I sunk into my seat. “Nicole—”

  “When I was around your age, I didn’t have a lot of choices for what I could do with the rest of my life. As far as I was concerned, the best I would be able to do is enforcing for your father. Urban offered me a job at the bank, but could you see me helping people take out loans?” She slowed to a stop at a red light. “You have your entire life ahead of you. You’ve got degrees, plenty of social capital, and a father who would move the heavens to make sure you're good. If at any point during this meeting you change your mind, speak up. I’ll step in. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, you hear?”

  I nodded my head. “Yeah.”

  We spent the rest of the ride in silence. Nicole checked her phone every now and then, texting someone or sending a voice message. Thirty minutes later, we were parked in front of Marsecco’s. I took a deep breath and stepped out of the car, starting toward the nondescript little deli, Nicole catching up to me with three strides of her long legs. Inside of the deli was modest, a place where you could grab a pack of smokes, the morning paper, and never think twice of ordering anything more than a cup of coffee. Nicole greeted an older Italian man working the front counter. She gave me a gentle nudge, urging me to speak up.

  “Good afternoon,” I said, shooting Nicole a look of uncertainty. “I'm here for lunch. The reservation’s under the name ‘Mackenzie.’”

  The man’s eyes widened. He pointed toward a hallway with three doors. “Last door down the hall.”

  “Thank you,” I said, starting down the hall. Once we were out of earshot, I asked Nicole, “Why did he look at me like that?”

  Nicole chuckled. “You’ll soon find out.”

  I stopped in front of the door. What was behind it that had everyone on edge? There’s no going back, I thought as I turned the knob. I gave the door a push, stopping short at the sight in front of me. Sitting at a table set for twelve were nine adults engaged in a heated debate. They were so busy arguing they didn’t notice my entrance.

  “All I'm saying is that without us, he doesn’t have two feet to stand on,” a middle-aged black man said to a black woman sitting across from him, his leather glove-clad hands moving with every word he spoke. “He promised us that we had nothing to worry about, now look. This is probable fucking cause! You think they won't use this as an opportunity to start poking around into his personal business?”

  “E, I see where you're coming from, but Urban will compromise himself before he does anything to lead the police to us. This is a small hiccup that will be smoothed out by the end of the day. By next week, people will have forgotten,” the woman assured him in a placating tone.

  “Unless that woman dies.” All eyes went to the man sitting on the other side of the table. He was dressed in a McDonald’s uniform. “I have a source in the hospital who told me that after the bullet went through Koi, it grazed the secretary’s skull. She might have irreversible brain damage. The police will prosecute to the fullest extent of the law, and where does that leave us?”

  Another woman spoke up from a few seats down. “With nothing. H is right; we need a plan of action. One of us should—”

  “Discuss this at a later date with Urban,” a man no older than thirty said, his eyes trained on us. “Nicole, good to see you. What's the current situation with Urban?”

  Eight sets of eyes swiveled over to us. Nicole placed a hand on the small of my back, giving me a gentle push. I walked over to the head of the table, my eyes roaming over men and women who were twenty and thirty years my senior. They studied every last one of my features, eyeing the messy bun my hair was in, the women zoning in on my sweats and oversized T-shirt I wore underneath my coat. While they all held opposing views on how to proceed, there was one thing I could see they were in agreement on: I wasn’t fit to stand in the place of my father.

  “Good afternoon,” I said, drumming my nails on the table. The two women's eyes stared hard enough for me to stop. “My name is Kelsey and—”

  “We know who you are,” they all said at once. Mr. E added, “What are you doing here? Where's Koi? His injuries weren’t life threatening.”

  “He's being observed at the hospital. He sent me over to speak with you all—”

  The woman to my right laughed. “They sent you? I'm sorry, sweetheart, but this is way out of your league. Why don’t you take a seat and let Nicole speak?”

  “D, cut the shit,” Nicole said, slipping into the first seat to my left. “You know damn well I have no authority to speak on matters of The Trust. At least not with Kelsey present and available. She was sent by the second in command. Give her a chance.”

  “Fine,” the other woman said, crossing her arms. “I'm Mrs. B. My territory is in Park Slope. “Kelsey…what do you plan to do about your father’s imminent incarceration?”

  “My father won't be incarcerated. It was an accident,” I assured the group. “We have one of the best defense attorneys in the country working to have him released—”

  “That means nothing,” the younger guy spoke up. “The name’s C. We as an organization cannot be represented by a loose cannon. The scrutiny your father will be under for the next year will threaten everything we’ve built. Personally, we think his best plan of action is to step down and let one of us take over…for the time being.”

  Nicole rose from her seat. “None of you are doing a motherfucking—”

  “Relax, Nicole. I got it,” I said, placing a hand on her shoulder. To Mr. K, I said, “My father planned on stepping down for me to take over. If you don’t believe me, check the real estate listing for my apartment in Washington, DC. This business wasn’t built for Koi or Nicole to take over. It was made for me, and as long as I'm fit to stand here in front of you, I will. Now, let’s get down to business.”

  “I'm not taking orders from no kid,” a man to my right said, his upper lip curled in contempt. “I grew up during the height of the crack epidemic. At the age of twelve, I was out on the streets slinging rock so I could put food in my siblings’ stomachs. You know how many times I've evaded being arrested? More than some of my friends who are still doing time under those Rockefeller drug laws. To this very day I'm making sure mine eat, and with all due respect to your father, but I refuse to sit here and listen to some spoiled brat speak on shit her privilege has kept her blind to. I'm out.”

  Nicole pointed to the door. “You're more than welcome to leave, G.”

  G rose from his seat, muttering under his breath about how my father was making a huge mistake and that no original gangster would dare stay around to get caught up in the consequences. Everyone sat there, gauging my reaction, looking for a chip in my marble façade. I sat back in my seat, placing my palms on the table to keep my hands from shaking.

  “He's not wrong.” My words swept over the room, causing some of the members to sit up. Nicole wasn’t fazed a bit. “I grew up in Fort Greene. Went to the best schools money could buy, got an education most wouldn’t be able to obtain without astronomical student loans. My father kept me sheltered from al
l of this, much to my detriment to be honest. While I might not have the street credentials to make you trust me, I have something far more valuable. Heart. I am willing to fight every battle, address every issue you have, and take what my father has to the next level by throwing everything I have into this organization. With Nicole, Koi, and all of you behind me, I can turn this into something your children can step into when your time is done, and I’ll welcome them as if they were my own blood. What I have planned is generational, and if you reject me, you're rejecting the opportunity for your children to take over whenever you're unable to retain your seat.”

  The room was so quiet I could hear my own breathing with every rise and fall of my chest. The remaining members of The Trust looked at each other, having a silent discussion that I wasn’t privy to. Nicole’s eyes roamed over to them, giving them each a once over. She remained silent, her expression unreadable as the Trust members adjourned their silent meeting. Mr. H, the man wearing the McDonald’s uniform, was the first to speak up.

  “My daughter has a vague idea of what we do here, but if she knew the full details she would want to be part of this when my time has passed. For that reason, I'm willing to work with you, Kelsey Mackenzie. I hope you're a woman of your word.”

  I replied with a curt nod of my head. “I wouldn’t be standing in front of you today without it.”

  __________

  The Trust wasn’t one for blind trust. Aside from Mrs. B and Mr. H, the rest of the members had me on a trial run, which would only end if I remained consistent. Nepotism was at play, and if I wanted any of them to take me seriously, I had to come better than I did today, which meant doing my homework. Nicole sat beside me, vigilant, checking questions she felt were shade. After an hour of fielding questions, I was drained and it showed. The bags under my eyes were prominent and I knew I was going to have to use my favorite turmeric sleeping mask to make them go away. Nicole slowed to a stop in front of my house, killing the engine and settling into her seat.

  “You did a good job today,” she said with a reassuring smile. “Not many people your age would have been able to command a meeting the way you did. Koi was right. I owe him an apology he won't ever get from me.”

  I looked at her like she was crazy. “Command? Nicole, they were throwing more questions and shade than I could handle. I folded. I made promises I might not be able to keep. They're right; there's no way in hell I can handle this.”

  “Do you think on my very first day of bartending I got everything right? I mixed up drinks, I dropped glasses, I undercharged. At the end of the night I said the same thing, and you know what my boss told me? You weren’t the best, but you didn’t quit. You stood in front of some of the most powerful men and women of this city, people who have been in this business long before you were born, and handled them. I can't think of anyone your age who would’ve been able to do that.”

  “You're just saying that because you know me…”

  “I don’t say things I don’t mean,” she said, and I knew that was the truth. “If this is something you want to pursue, you have my support. I will come out of retirement to make sure you have the protection you need.”

  Nicole's words touched me; as someone who had watched me grow up, it meant the world to me that she saw potential in me I couldn’t see in myself. For her to take on the job as my hitta was serious business, something not to be taken lightly. She stopped me before I could answer, stating that she didn’t want me to feel any pressure. There was plenty, and it increased as I turned my key to the front door. I gave it a gentle push, letting out heat from the house and an argument filling the air. Nicole stepped in front of me, swinging open the second door, which took the shouting men’s voices up another octave. We rushed to the living room to see what the commotion was and caught my father and Koi engaged in a heated argument.

  “She’s my child!” Daddy shouted, his chest pressing against Normani's hands holding him back from getting too close to Koi. “There were plenty of people you could’ve sent in her place, my wife for starters. If the tables were turned, I never would have sent your child into a meeting with them!”

  Koi, who was being wrangled in by a frantic Trish, shot back, “You can't protect her from her birthright forever, Urban. This is what she was born to do—”

  “Kelsey was born to be better than this!” Daddy shouted, his voice cracking from the raw emotion of his words. “Everything I have done up until this point has been for her! I didn’t bust my ass, put my life and freedom on the line for her to have to meet with those people. This is something I would expect from Malone—”

  “Don’t put my name in the same sentence as his—”

  “Except it’s worse because it’s coming from you!”

  “YOU SHOT ME!” Koi roared, slapping himself on the chest. “I have been telling you for the longest that this ain't for you no more, let someone else take over, and you refused to listen. Now, there is an innocent woman lying in the ICU with possible brain damage! I made the decision that you were too afraid to make, and I don’t regret it. Kelsey can do this.”

  Daddy raised a hand to Koi, his fingers trembling from either anger or Parkinson’s. “And now I can decide to ask you to get out of my house.”

  “Fine.” Koi stopped short at the sight of us standing there. “Kelsey…how was the meeting?”

  I nodded and Nicole answered, “It went well. There was some pushback, but they’ll take to her.”

  “There's no need to because I'm not stepping down,” Daddy interjected.

  Nicole shook her head. “Urban, you don’t have a choice. Kelsey and I overheard part of the conversation they were having and—”

  “They're making a play for your seat,” I said, approaching my father as if he were a fragile child. “According to them, your diagnosis makes you a liability. They will come together, make a decision on who is the most fit to run, and push you out. All it takes is a meeting with your connect to get them the product they need.”

  Daddy knew I was right; I could see the resignation in his eyes. “This won't last forever.”

  “I know,” I soothed with taking his hand into mine, giving it a firm squeeze. “You’ve taken care of me your entire life. Let me take care of you.”

  “Let’s take a drive,” Daddy said, leading me out of the living room.

  The last thing I saw over my shoulder before being tugged out the house was Koi, giving me his blessing with a nod of his head. Daddy didn’t let go of my hand until we had arrived in front of a car I had never seen him drive, a blue Toyota Camry. He motioned for me to hop in the driver’s seat, telling me that I would have to learn the route without the help of my GPS. I followed his instructions to the tee, taking several side streets, noting the lack of city or street cameras on this route. An hour later, we were in Red Hook amongst a sea of warehouses. Some were labeled as textile manufacturers while others were small storefronts. The one we pulled up to was called T.M. Textiles. Daddy climbed out of the car and walked over to a small keypad. A rumble set off the automatic shutters raising them high enough for me to pull into the warehouse. He slipped in right behind me, the shutters lowering after his entrance.

  “Daddy?” I called out, stepping out of the car and into the darkness of the warehouse.

  I jumped at the shutters slamming against the concrete ground. The click clacking of my father’s Italian loafers echoed throughout the pitch black warehouse. Using the car as my guide, I ran my hands across the front, lifting them in front of me as I traveled deeper into the open space. I heard the click of light switches powering up fluorescent lights overhead, illuminating a large warehouse filled with shelves upon shelves of boxes. Daddy ambled over to me, hands behind his back, his eyes trained on the sight in front of us.

  “We’re not corner boys. We don’t do deals in the bathroom of sketchy nightclubs or quick hand exchanges to yuppies driving through the neighborhood for a fix. Our job is not to assemble teams, have turf wars, and spend tireless hours maki
ng sure we meet our quota,” Daddy said, staring down the long aisle. “Without us, there is no drug trade. The connect needs us to distribute his product and the suppliers underneath us need it to make sure they eat. We’re the go between. We keep everything on track and while doing so, we have the luxury of making money as we speak, breathe, eat, shit. However, with such power comes a greater burden. One day, at any given moment, the Feds can bust into your house, place of work, grab you off the street, and you will face charges that will have you in prison for the rest of your life. Is that something you can handle?”

  I thought of the previous horrors I experienced, and replied, “I've dealt with worse.”

  Daddy held his hand out to me. I gave it a firm shake like he taught me. “Welcome to The Trust. It’s one of the oldest cartels still operating on the East Coast. Would you like to know what the first rule of business is?”

  “Please,” I said, thinking of how much I had to learn in a limited amount of time.

  Uriah Mackenzie placed his hands on my shoulders, giving them a quick squeeze. “Trust no one.”

  11

  Briana

  Jamel took a bite of his chopped cheese sandwich, chewing it slowly as he studied my appearance. I wasn’t showing, and I wouldn’t be for a while, but I could tell by the way he was looking at me that he knew something was up. He swallowed the glob of food in his mouth, washing it down with a swig of Pepsi. I grabbed a napkin off the side of the hospital bed and dabbed at his chin, clearing up the mess the greasy sandwich made. My best friend wasn’t big on me touching him in any capacity, yet he kept his mouth shut. Once he was all cleaned up, I took the empty wrappings from off his lap, tossing them in the trash and returning to my seat on the edge of his bed.

  “It’s been six weeks since I got stabbed, Bri. If you think stopping by with a greasy sandwich and dabbing at my face like I'm a baby is gon’ make me forget you ain't been here for me, you must not know me as well as I thought you did,” Jamel said, sipping on his drink as he waited for an explanation.