Pretty Kings

by T. Styles

  What most so-called hustler wives also can’t tell you is that global warming has changed our world. What does this mean? Natural disasters. In my area alone we’ve had back-to-back hurricanes that caused a lot of damage. This means that more people are needed to help those experiencing disasters. And, this is where Mitch comes in.

  Twenty years ago, Mitch McKenzie, a geeky white boy out of Florida State, started Sweet Rice Charities. He didn’t like what he was seeing due to humans destroying the planet. So he gathered a bunch of his college friends, and they went around the world to help people who were affected by natural disasters. After awhile Mitch discovered that he was using his own money, and it was getting hard to find government funding. Mitch was worried that he wouldn’t be able to help others, and take care of his wife and kid since he started a family. He considered giving it all up, after selling his assets. Mitch’s charity Sweet Rice had access to planes and vehicles, which came in and out of the country. If he sold them he stood to make a lot of paper.

  Before he put his possessions up for sale, he was approached by the Columbian Cartel to smuggle cocaine into the US using one of his authorized planes. The payout was lovely so he accepted the offer. After the job, Mitch immediately received the funding necessary to keep his foundation going. What he also got was an idea. For the right price, he could smuggle cocaine into the US himself, without the Cartel.

  To have a reason for being in and out of the country, Mitch expanded Sweet Rice into the United States. During the tornados in 1999 in Oklahoma, Sweet Rice charities was there to help families regain some semblance of a life. For real you could name any recent natural disaster and I’ll bet you my Double R parked out front that Mitch’s charity was there.

  Things were sweet until something happened…9/11. Now airspace was restricted, but fortunately the service that Mitch and Sweet Rice provided for so many countries, allowed him to retain the use of their airspace.

  Before long Mitch put officers and government officials on payroll, and flew his planes in and out of the country with impunity. He changed his cocaine crops to Peru, because the quality of Columbia’s cocaine was not the same, and he met the Kennedy Kings. That’s where our history started.

  My husband and his brothers are the distributors of Mitch’s cocaine. As a result, the Kennedy Kings are the exclusive suppliers of this product in the US. You talking about pure cocaine for the price it would cost you to get that stepped on bullshit in the streets. This exclusivity in the price and quality of Mitch’s cocaine made the Kings product sought after and desired. This is what brought the Russians to us.

  Mitch isn’t about being greedy. He just wants enough to take care of his family, and support his charity, but the man is still filthy rich. So, he sells the Kings the coke so cheaply, that they have become the best cocaine connects in the industry.

  I tell Kevin all the time that Mitch is a hypocrite, even though I like him. He flies cocaine into his own country, but has a charity for helping people in need. Kevin said Mitch has no respect for people who abuse drugs. But, those needing help due to natural disasters deserves help. Since my life is a disaster, I wonder if he’ll help me now.

  I call Mitch and his phone rings once before he answers. “Hey, beautiful.” He tells me. I’m relieved because I know he could not have heard about Kevin’s death yet. It gives me more time. “Are you calling me to tell me that you and Kevin are finally coming to visit me again in Mexico?” Mitch owns an island in Mexico, and loves it there so much he has been trying to get us to relocate forever.

  I think about my husband not being here anymore, and pull myself together. Mitch is a drug boss and can smell lies. “I was actually calling you for something else,” I say.

  “Before you do that let me tell you congratulations on having five years clean. Kevin tells me all the time how proud he is of you, and I feel the same way, Bambi.”

  I feel warm inside. Despite not knowing how much longer I can stay alcohol free, it makes me feel good that he remembers. “Thank you, Mitch. That means a lot to me.”

  “I sent you the entire Louis Vuitton winter collection as a gift for your accomplishment, it should be arriving there shortly.”

  “I can’t wait to receive it,” I tell him. I clear my throat again. “Mitch, I’m calling on a serious matter. I really need your help.”

  “Almost anything,” he says. And, I believe him.

  “As you know there is a very important meeting coming up,” I say. “Is it possible for you to meet with the Russians on Saturday instead of Kevin? His flight home may be delayed.”

  Mitch hangs up. What just happened? A second later my phone rings again. Mitch’s voice is deeper, and I discover immediately that there’s another side to him. The boss side I didn’t know before, because I’ve never talked to him on a business level.

  “Bambi, is something wrong with the Kennedy Kings?” I figure he’s on a secure line now. He sounds serious. All of the love he had for me is stripped from his voice.

  “No…uh…”

  “Well let me clear something up for you, sweetheart,” he pauses. “I didn’t get to where I am in the business by meeting people. I don’t deal with anyone but the Kennedy Kings. And, in the event something happens to them, I have secured enough money to be able to take care of myself and my grandchildren’s grandchildren for the rest of their lives. When the Kings are out I’m done with this business altogether. I call it early retirement.”

  The thought of being cut off of his supply scares me, and I don’t know why. It’s not like I’m planning to stay in the business after this meeting with the Russians.

  “Now I’m going to ask you again, is something wrong with the Kings?” He continues. “Because a very special delivery is in route and I need to know now to stop it.”

  “No,” I tell him quickly. “Kevin is okay.”

  “Good, now don’t ever call me in this way again.”

  He hangs up. I’m stuck. I’m lost. If Mitch won’t do it, and the Russians are expecting our husbands, I don’t know what else to do. I can’t bring random niggas in the picture. For that amount of money they’ll kill us.

  I walk toward Race’s room when I hear her talking to Scarlett. When I enter, I see Race and Scarlett at her dresser’s mirror. Race’s back is faced me, and she is wearing one of her husband’s Washington Redskins sweatshirts. The hood is hiked up over her head, and the shirt swallows up her frame making her look like a boy from behind. Had it not been for her bare legs, I would not have known…

  I would not have known…

  I would not have known that she was a woman.

  They say great ideas come in times of extreme desperation. Because, as I look at her I suddenly realize what we must do. Avery can’t meet the Russians on Saturday, and now that I think about it, even if he could I wouldn’t trust him with our money. Mitch doesn’t want to meet with them to keep his privacy. So, it has to be us. And, since the Russians are expecting the Kings who they never met before, we have to give them what they want. The Kennedy Kings. I just need to see to it that Avery isn’t there, because he’ll recognize us.

  I walk into the room and touch Race on the shoulder. She jumps at my touch. “What’s wrong I ask?”

  “I miss Ramirez so much,” Race sobs looking into my eyes. She takes her hood off and hugs me. “What are we going to do?”

  I sigh. Unable to have my real cry until this meeting with the Russians is over. “I saw the news again earlier today,” I tell them both. “For now they are unable to identify the bodies, but I’m sure that will change soon.” I sit on the edge of Race’s bed. She doesn’t have any sheets on it and I wonder why. “Which, means we definitely have to push forward with this meeting with the Russians before its too late and the shipment is stopped. If Mitch finds out they are dead we are cut off.”

  “I told you to sign me up,” Scarlett says, proving more to me that she’s more go-hard then the rest.

  I look at Race. “I’m scared of the Russian
s. I’m scared of everybody. And, if you make me do it I’m going to tell Bunny, and the rest of the Kennedy family that they are dead. We should probably be doing that anyway. They have a right to know.”

  If there is nothing else in life I hate, a snitch-bitch is it. “Race, don’t ever say something like that to me again, or else our bond is done. I’ll move in this world as if I don’t even know you. Do you understand what I’m saying? If I can’t love you I’ll hate you.”

  Silence.

  “She didn’t mean it like that,” Scarlett says rubbing Race’s shoulders. “She’s just afraid that’s all. We all are.”

  “Even if we wanted to tell the rest of the Kennedy’s that they are gone, we don’t even have their bodies yet. So the information is useless.” I pause. “I look dead into their eyes. My lips tighten and tremble again. “There comes a time in your life when you have to stand for something or fall for anything. Now is that time.”

  DENIM

  When I walk into the house, I take Jasmine up to bed and stomp to the bathroom in my room to wash my hands. My knuckles are bloodied and bruised due to fighting my sister. I hurt her badly too. My mother tried to get out of the bed to stop me from beating the breaks off of Grainger, but when she rolled over to step off of the bed, she fumbled to the floor.

  It took me, Grainger, her new boyfriend and the D.C. fire department to put her back in bed. I hated my sister for making me hit her, although part of me was happy that she did. I was able to relieve some of the stress I feel from not having Bradley around anymore. Although it helped, it didn’t stop the pain permanently.

  My sister would love nothing more than to see me fall from grace. And, for me to have to move back home, and be forced into slavery by my fat ass mother. I can’t let her have the satisfaction. I won’t let her have it.

  I catch the elevator downstairs to Bambi’s room. When I reach her bedroom door, I notice it’s closed. I turn the knob anyway, and walk inside, closing the door behind me. When I hear her talking to herself, I move toward her closet. She goes there a lot to think.

  Suddenly I stop, because from where I stand I can see what she is doing. She isn’t facing me. She’s on the floor, in full military gear. She’s still wearing fatigues, the matching jacket and a green hard hat. Her bare feet, dressed in red toenail polish, are the only thing that is feminine on her. A black machine gun lies at her feet, and I wonder what she’s going to do with it. What happened to her in that war? And why won’t she talk to us about it?

  When I step closer to the closet, I notice the smell of vodka. It’s strong. Coming out of her pores. Which, means she’s been drinking for a long time. My stomach rumbles. After five years, she’s given up sobriety. Damn, Bambi.

  “I know what you must think of me,” Bambi says to me without looking at me. I didn’t even know she knew I was there. “You think I’m weak.” She laughs to herself and strokes the bottle. “Maybe I am.” She removes her hard hat and places it on the floor.

  I walk closer. “Why, Bambi? You were doing so good. Yesterday you had five years sobriety and everything.”

  Bambi gazes at me. Her eyes are red. She’s so beautiful and so vulnerable now. I hardly see her like this on a regular. “It was bound to happen after awhile anyway, Denim.” She strokes the bottle in her hand like it’s a big dick. “Without Kevin, there’s no need to stay sober. I need this shit just to be able to concentrate.” She raises the bottle. “Who am I without alcohol anyway?”

  I walk into the huge walk in closet and sit down next to her. I look up and see both her and Kevin’s clothes hanging up. When I look toward the back of the closet, I can see a section of military gear, which wasn’t there before. With the exception of a few pants, she kept that kind of stuff in the basement. Topics about the war were taboo in our home.

  “What about us, Bambi? The sisters?” I place my hand on her knee. “We need you sober.”

  She laughs at me. Or she laughs at my comment. I can’t be sure. “You guys don’t need me. Everybody thinks meeting the Russians isn’t necessary, and I don’t know what to do anymore.”

  I remove my hand from her knee. It drops in my lap. I don’t know if I want to say what I intended to before coming into her room, and seeing her like this. In the condition that she’s in, I’m not sure she’s able to lead us now. “I don’t think meeting with the Russians is unnecessary,” I say softly. “I’m ready to do it.” I look at the bottle. “If you are.”

  She spins her head in my direction and her eyes widen. I just made her day. I can feel it. A smile spreads across her face. “Are you serious, Denim?” She asks.

  “Yes,” I respond although I’m still not sure. “I am.”

  She stands up and I stand up too. We hug and my foot rubs against the riffle on the floor. “Can we get out of here?” I look down at it. “I don’t feel safe here.”

  When we walk into her bedroom, there’s a knock at the door. I open it and Race and Scarlett come inside. They look at Bambi and I can tell the Russians have been the only topic of discussion today. It’s all in their eyes and they seemed drained.

  “Race has something to tell you,” Scarlett tells Bambi.

  Race looks at her hands and then faces Bambi. “I’ll do it. I’ll go with you to meet the Russians,” she cries. “But I’m still scared. We’ve never been involved in any of their business before. How can we be sure that we can even do this?”

  Bambi rushes Scarlett and Race and the three of them combine their hug. I feel left out. “Can somebody bring me up to speed?” I ask.

  Bambi separates from them and walks into the middle of her bedroom. “They are agreeing to meet with the Russians,” she starts, “the only thing is if we are going to do it, we can’t meet them like this. We must look differently.”

  “Okay, so what’s the plan?” I ask her.

  Bambi walks up to me. “We have to dress like men,” she holds my hands firmly, like she’s offering me physical support. “If we are going to attend this meeting, we have to be our husbands.”

  I snatch away from her. “What the fuck are you talking about?” I walk across her room and it seems like it takes me forever to get to the wall because it’s so large. “The Russians aren’t stupid, Bambi. We can’t go in there, wear men’s clothing and try to trick them. Why do we even have to lie? We got the work not them.”

  “Because, Avery said they only want to meet with Kevin and them,” Bambi responds.

  “But we look like fucking females and to tell you the truth, I’m happy about it,” I reply.

  She walks closer, but stops before reaching me. “Denim, we can do this shit. I’m telling you. I thought the entire thing out in my mind earlier tonight. When I was in the army I had to, I mean, I developed the ability to dumb down my appeal. I got rid of anything feminine about me, and that included my voice.”

  “Why?”

  She doesn’t respond. “Bambi, why did you do that?” I ask again.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she says. “Just know that I did it. And, since Race makes silicone masks all the time, she can make ones for us. This meeting will go off without a problem if we all commit to it.”

  “They have to be partial masks because the full ones will limit facial features,” Race responds letting her nerd come out.

  “I don’t care what you say, you not going to be able to sound like a man—,”

  Bambi drops her voice and says, “Don’t tell me what I won’t be able to do.” Her low throaty words sound so much like a man; I look around the room to see what nigga has slid inside of here. I get chills all over my body. If she would’ve called me with that voice, I would not have believed it was her.

  “I can do this,” Bambi says in her regular voice. “I can facilitate this meeting. I just need the three of you there.”

  “Well what about the rest of us,” I say throwing my hands up. “I can’t do any of that shit. And, just one look at Race will give us away.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” R
ace replies.

  “I don’t want you to sound like me,” Bambi says. “The only thing you have to do is learn to stand like a man, and you gotta do that in five days. I’ll do all of the talking and everything.” She looks at all of us. “You have to trust me.”

  “I’m not going to lie, since Bambi has stopped drinking she’s been reliable,” Scarlett says to us. “If she thinks we can do it, I’m going to follow her.”

  Bambi wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. I guess to wipe the guilt or vodka from her lips.

  “This is dangerous, Bambi,” I say. I want to remind her that she just drank a whole bottle of vodka in the closet, but don’t want to do it in front of our sisters. “We are talking about Russian drug dealers, Bambi. Are you sure about this?”

  “I was in the US military for two years, and I was the best at what I did,” she says to me. “Trust me, I can bring us through this meeting alive.” She looks at all of us again. “Are you all in or what?”

  It takes forever, but one by one we say yes.

  Having gotten her way, Bambi smiles and claps her hands together excitedly. She’s about to say something until her phone rings. She walks over to it and holds the receiver closely to her ear. Then she says, “Hello.” Silence. “Don’t worry, Avery,” she looks at all of us. “You can tell the Russians that The Kings will be there. That much I promise you.”

  THE RUSSIANS

  Avery Graham sits in his dining room chair. Across from him he observes his beautiful wife Tiffany and their nine-year old daughter Crystal. Any other time this would be the perfect picture of family and love, instead its one of the worst days of his life.

  The black scarf tied in Tiffany’s mouth is so tight that the lower part of her brown face is blue. His daughter Crystal’s eyes are covered as well as her mouth. The only thing Avery can see on her is her nose. Both of them are tied in the chair, with their arms behind their backs. They’ve been like this for days, only being untied once a day to eat and use the bathroom.