Lawless

by K'wan

  “Suicide by cop.” Keith put his head in his hands. His brain was reeling. His father being killed by the police was part of the reason Keith had decided to become a defense attorney, instead of sitting on the opposite side of the bench. His dad had been his motivation to wage war against police corruption. He would make them all pay for what they had done to his father, and now he was finding out it had all been a lie. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

  “And tarnish the image of the man you thought was a god? I couldn’t do that to you. I know you think I’m a sour old bitch, but you have to believe me when I say that everything I’ve ever done in life was to protect you,” Ma said sincerely.

  “Is that why you never told me about Darla coming to look for me?” Keith asked. He could see in her eyes that the question had caught her by surprise. “You don’t have to lie about it. I saw her tonight at B.B.’s, and she told me everything.”

  “It was for your own good, Killer. That girl and her whole family were bayou trash. Had I let her get her claws in you, then you may not have been able to run off and become a fancy lawyer. Hell, I’d think you’d be grateful.”

  “Grateful for robbing me of my freedom to choose?” Keith snapped.

  “Free will to choose what? To run off with Darla to whatever imaginary bullshit the two of you used to dream up while you were fucking like rabbits under my roof? Before long, you’d have fucked around, got that girl pregnant, and ended up working some shit job in the city, instead of chasing your dreams. News flash for you, Killer. Ain’t no happy endings in the ghetto. Ain’t that the reason you ran off?”

  “I ran off because I didn’t want to end up either a sociopath, like Mad Dog or, worse, like Dickey!” Keith shouted.

  “My sons may not be model citizens, but at least they’re men. When this family needed them, they stood tall and handled what needed to be done. They did not run off and hide like some pussies!” Ma fired back.

  Before Keith even realized what he was doing, he was on his feet. He slid one of the knives from the rack near the sink and took a step forward. The deadly look Ma gave him stopped Keith in his tracks. It was then that Keith realized his mother had been goading him all along. And just like when he was a youth, his mother knew better than anyone else how to bring out the worst in him.

  “There he is.” Ma smiled wide, exposing the gold tooth in her mouth. “I knew my Killer was still hiding in there somewhere.”

  “I’m not your anything.” Keith tossed the knife on the counter.

  “You trying to convince me or yourself? Some nerve on your part, coming in here, trying to judge us for how we survive, when your fingernails are just as dirty as those of the rest of us, if not more. You think I don’t know what you left buried on Conti Street?”

  The accusation slapped Keith sober. He searched his mother’s eyes for signs that she might be tricking him into confirming whatever she suspected, but her stare was unwavering. Ma Savage wasn’t the type of woman to ask questions she didn’t already know the answers to. As he stood there under his mother’s gaze, Keith suddenly felt stripped as bare as the day he was born.

  “Ain’t nothing my boys can hide from me, including what’s in their hearts.” Ma picked up the bottle of Jack Daniel’s and took a healthy gulp. “You might be using your daddy’s name, but it’s Savage blood your heart pumps.”

  “You’re a twisted and evil old woman!” Keith spat.

  “Maybe so, but at least I know what I am. Can you say the same?”

  Keith had had enough. “I had a feeling you were gonna pull something like this, which is why I’m glad I didn’t cancel my hotel reservation. I’ll be back for Big Money’s home going, and then I’m on the next thing smoking back to Atlanta.” He stormed toward the door. Before he left, his mother had some parting words for him.

  “That’s right. Do what you do best and cut out when the shit gets too thick for you. But I’ll tell you this, Killer Keith. You can run from here to the ends of the earth, but you’ll never be able to escape from yourself.”

  CHAPTER 18

  King hated early mornings. When he was in prison, he was always up at the crack of dawn either so he could get started on work assignments or so he wouldn’t miss chow. He had promised himself that when he was free, he would see what it felt like to sleep in for a change. And it felt great. The only thing that irritated him more than getting up early in the morning was being summoned. But when the summons came from Shai Clark, you didn’t gripe. You just showed up.

  “Why the fuck this nigga always wanna meet in West Bubblefuck?” Lakim said from his position behind the wheel of the SUV.

  “Queens ain’t that far,” King told him. They were in Astoria, which was a short hop across the East River, but to cats like Lakim, who never left the hood, they might as well be on Mars.

  “Still don’t see why he couldn’t have met us in Harlem,” Lakim replied, continuing to gripe.

  “Yo, chill, God. I’m not really with that Angry Smurf shit this morning,” King said harshly.

  “What’s good with you, King? You been in a foul mood since I picked you up this morning.” Lakim knew King well enough to be able to tell when something was troubling him.

  King looked at his friend, wondering how much he should reveal about the source of his worries. “I guess I just haven’t been sleeping much lately, and it’s starting to make me cranky.”

  “I get like that, too, especially if I’ve been hanging with Dee for a few days. The past couple of days, we been at this spot called Hades. Word to mine, that shit is super live!” Lakim revealed.

  “Word? What is it? A strip joint?”

  “Nah, B. This shit is on a totally different level than a strip club. Anything goes on at Hades. I don’t care if you like coke, dope, pussy, or asshole . . . they got it all at Hades.”

  “How the hell did you discover someplace like that?”

  “Dee put me onto it,” Lakim told him. “It’s a members’ only spot. Son was on the waiting list for, like, three months before they let him smell the rooms past the bar. They said the dude that owns it is that Tinkerbell nigga Christian from up on the Hill. You remember, the guy that used to run with Ghost and them.”

  King knew Christian Knight by name, but he didn’t know him personally. He was said to be a pimp and a pill pusher mainly, but he was also a person who could make just about anything happen for the right price. Though King had never met Christian, he was familiar with a guy who ran with his crew, a man by the name of Frankenstein. He bore a resemblance to the fictional monster in terms of both his looks and his build, right down to the lightning bolt–shaped scar across his forehead. Frankenstein had passed through Attica during King’s stay. The man was a real head case, and the guards had handled him with the delicacy shown a serial killer. At that time Frankenstein had been up for a murder, but two years into his bid, he had had his conviction overturned. If Christian had muscle like that rolling with him, it was no wonder people thought twice about crossing him.

  “I don’t know,” Lakim continued. “I was thinking if everything goes right between you and ya man in there, we could do something like that with your spot. We’d make a killing just off the strength of the bitches we could recruit to work there.”

  “Ain’t gonna happen,” King said flatly. “I told y’all that this spot is going to be clean. I don’t want none of this dirt we stirring up on the streets touching it.”

  “I hear you, man, but I still can’t figure out why you’d be interested in opening a legit business all of a sudden, if it ain’t to run money through. For all that, you could just keep selling crack, and in half the time, you’d make three times what it’ll make.”

  “Yeah, and end up dead or in prison,” King noted.

  “Man, you bugging.”

  “I’m not bugging. I’m paying attention.” King looked at the construction site they were parked in front of. Planted in the dirt was a sign that read AFFORDABLE HOUSING COMING SOON. Beneath it was the
unmistakable logo of Clark, Lansky & Co. “Gotta start somewhere,” he mumbled.

  “What was that, God?”

  “Nothing,” King lied. “Yo, when is the last time you spoke to that broad Pam?”

  Lakim thought about it. “I dunno. Probably not since I paid her the bread for that info.” Pam was the girl who had told King James that Big Money was behind the car bombing.

  “She still hang around the neighborhood?”

  “I see her from time to time, but not like that. Why the sudden interest in Pam? You thinking about trying to hit that again?”

  “Nah. Just wondering, I guess. You know she’s probably the only person who can tie us to what happened to Big Money.”

  “You thinking maybe it’s time for her to go?” Lakim asked, hoping that he wasn’t. Pam was a cool chick that both he and King had known for a number of years. That was a call he wouldn’t look forward to making.

  King thought about it for a long moment. “I don’t know, man. I’m just thinking out loud. Let me run up in here and take care of this business.” He slid from the vehicle.

  King picked his way carefully across the overturned ground and gravel, making his way to the back of the structure that was being built. Workmen milled about, tending to their assigned tasks. None of them even spared King a second look. Their employer always paid his employees a little extra to take no notice of the comings and goings of strangers on their job sites.

  A few yards away stood three men. They were huddled around a table sitting on a dirt mound, going over what King assumed had to be blueprints. One of them was the foreman. He was wearing a white hard hat and khakis. He seemed to be leading the conversation. The second man was older, with silver hair. A salmon-colored suit hung over his thin frame. Every so often he would nod at whatever the foreman was saying. This was Sol Lansky. He was an old-world gangster, with a reputation that stretched back to the sixties. These days he was a semiretired businessman whom people paid handsomely for his counsel. The third man wore no suit. He was dressed in jeans, a white polo shirt, and white sneakers. Though he didn’t look it, he was the most important man in the city, and the only person who could put out a summons that King would answer.

  Shai must’ve felt King standing there, because he suddenly looked in his direction. Then Shai whispered something to the foreman, who walked off. Sol, however, remained. If the old man was sitting in, then, King reasoned, it was going to be an important conversation.

  “Good morning, gentlemen,” King greeted as he approached the two men.

  “Always a good morning when there’s money being made.” Shai smiled broadly and shook his hand. From the way he had received King, you’d never know that only a few months ago, they had been going out of their way to kill each other. “You eat breakfast yet? We got some bagels and shit inside.”

  “With all due respect, Shai, I’d rather just get to the business of why you called me out here, so I can get back to the hood,” King told him.

  “A fish out of water,” Shai remarked. “Anyhow, let me start by saying that I appreciate the job you’ve been doing with making sure your guys are all playing by the rules. A wise man once told me that partnerships are more profitable than wars.”

  “Sounds like some real-life game,” King replied, wishing Shai would get on with it. They weren’t currently feuding, but there would always be a part of him that longed to kill Shai Clark.

  “This same wise man once told me that when someone does you a kindness, you should return it.” Shai motioned to Sol. The old man reached inside the pocket of his suit jacket and produced an envelope, which he handed to King James.

  “What’s this?” King looked at the envelope suspiciously.

  “A while back, you came to me and asked if I would use some of my connections to grant you a building permit. Sadly, I wasn’t able to get them to agree. Some of my associates aren’t as forgiving as I am,” Shai said.

  “So what is this? An ‘I’m sorry’ note?” King asked sarcastically. He opened the envelope, pulled out a document, and scanned it. It was the deed to a property in Harlem, and the property was registered under the name King Enterprises. “What is this?”

  “A friend of mine who owns a restaurant uptown incurred a debt that he couldn’t pay. He’s still in the red with the bank for a few payments, and there will probably be fines that need to be taken care of, but that will all fall on the new owner, who is you,” Shai explained.

  King was stunned.

  “Just because my partners wouldn’t finance your dream doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have it,” Shai commented.

  “Why are you giving me a restaurant?” King still couldn’t believe it.

  “I think the correct response should be thank you, kid,” Sol interjected.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful . . . truly, but why? With all the history between us, why pay me such a kindness?”

  “I want you to know how serious I am about putting this thing between us to bed and getting back to this money. I may not like your ghetto ass, but I can’t deny the fact that you project niggas know how to flip a bird. The working relationship between us has been profitable, and I’d like to ensure we keep it going, and that means showing you how to separate yourself from the trash. The fact that you came to me to make it happen in the first place shows me that you’re serious about it. You just needed a little direction. Now it’s up to you to see it through.”

  “I will.”

  “But it does come with a few conditions.” Shai smirked. “I get five points per month off everything you make in the first three years.”

  King should’ve known anything Shai gave him wouldn’t come without a catch. “Anything else?”

  “Yes, there is. I don’t want any of the shit in your backyard spilling over into mine. Do you understand?”

  “Shai, you do what you do, and I do what I do. Outside of my people buying drugs from yours, our paths shouldn’t need to cross like that.”

  “I don’t think you fully understand what’s happening here. I’m extending an olive branch. By me doing this for you, it creates a link between us. What you do from here on out will send a vibration up the chain. I don’t want to feel your problems, so make sure your backyard is clear of anything that could make me regret our arrangement. Leave no stone unturned in making sure.”

  “You got it. Now, if there’s nothing else, I gotta skate,” King said.

  “Before you go, I got a question for you, kid,” Sol interjected. “Of all the businesses you could’ve considered getting into, why a restaurant?”

  “For my mom,” King answered sincerely. “Back in the days, she used to cook and sell plates to the people in the neighborhood. I always told her that when I got my weight up, I was going to buy her a restaurant.”

  “God bless your heart, kid. I know she’s gonna be proud when you tell her.” Sol gave him an approving nod.

  “My mother passed a few years ago,” King replied, darkening the mood.

  Sol nodded. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks. I’ll catch you on Monday, Shai,” King said before he walked off.

  “What do you make of that one, Sol?” Shai asked once King had gone.

  “Had you asked me a few months ago, I’d have told you that he was a rabid dog that needed to be put down. Now . . .” Sol shrugged. “I’m not so sure. What I do know is that I’m glad the two of you have stopped trying to kill each other. Putting a leash on him was smart. Just don’t ever make the mistake of letting him off the chain again.”

  “I won’t, Sol . . . Trust me, I won’t.”

  * * *

  By the time King left Sol and Shai, he was in a far better mood than he had been in when he showed up. He had never imagined that the person who would help him realize his dream would turn out to be the one who had inspired it in the first place.

  During the time King had been feuding with Shai, he had also been studying him. He knew Shai’s story backward and forward, from how h
is family had started out to the real story of how Shai had inherited his father’s throne. He didn’t like Shai as a person, but he had a great deal of respect for how he moved. Not only did Shai have money on the streets, but he was also doing very well for himself through the businesses he owned. He had found a way to reap the benefits that came from being in the streets while insulating himself from the bullshit. That was the model King needed to adopt. King had no illusions about the crack game lasting forever, and he knew that when and if the walls to his kingdom fell, he had to have a plan B. The restaurant was to be the foundation of the world he was going to build for his child.

  Thinking of his unborn child made him recall Shai’s warning about making sure his backyard was clean. To his knowledge, there was nothing going on that could hurt his relationship with Shai. Then he remembered Big Money. King had always suspected that it was Shai who was behind hiring the Savages to hit him. If Lakim was right and his family decided to make a stink, King had to make sure there was no way they could connect Big Money’s death to him.

  “How’d it go?” Lakim asked once King was back in the ride.

  “Everything went smooth. I got my spot,” King told him.

  “Say word? Shai came through on the building permits?” Lakim asked excitedly. He knew how bad King wanted this to happen.

  “He did me one better, but I’ll explain later. Do you remember that thing we were talking about earlier? The thing with the girl?”

  “Yeah. What about it?”

  “Make it happen.”

  “Okay,” Lakim reluctantly agreed. He liked Pam, but King was his brother. “You got anybody in mind for this?”