by K'wan
“But you don’t even know where I live.”
“I will by tomorrow morning,” Swann winked. “Just some food for thought in case you get any big ideas, ma. The name is Swann. Ask anybody in the hood how I give it up.” Swann turned and addressed his crew. “Let’s make moves. Shai’s function starts in a few hours and it’d be in poor taste for us to show up late.”
CHAPTER 2
Ghost pushed the Rolls Royce through Central New Jersey with no regard for the posted speed limit. When he bent the corner of Raritan Road, he made sure to cut it extra sharp, causing the older couple in the back to slide from one side to the other. Sparing a quick glance in the rearview mirror, he silently chuckled at the looks on both of their faces. From the way his mother, Maureen, was clinging to her seatbelt, he knew that she was nervous, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of saying so. His father, Chance, on the other hand looked like a powder keg waiting to explode. In the passenger seat, his sister, Lolli, did a poor job of hiding her amusement. She knew what Ghost was doing and why he was doing it.
“Ghost, why don’t you slow down? This ride costs more than some of the houses out here and you’re driving it like a hooptie!” Chance finally snapped.
“Sorry, Daddy. I was just making sure we weren’t late. I know how important it is for us to stay in favor with the prince,” Ghost replied sarcastically.
Seeing anger flash across her husband’s face at his eldest son’s defiance, Maureen interjected before the situation got worse. “Junior,” was all that she needed to say, and just like that, the tension between the two men was drained away and Ghost eased his foot off the pedal. Maureen had always had that effect on all of her boys, including her husband. Chance King might’ve been the head of their family, but Maureen was the law that governed them.
The next mile or so of winding New Jersey roads were spent with Lolli and her mother making small talk, but the men were relatively silent. Chance could tell from the tightening of his son’s jaw that he was still holding onto his anger. He leaned forward and flicked Ghost’s ear like he used to do when he was a child. “I know you ain’t sitting up there salty because I asked you to fill in for Joe and drive us today?”
“Nah, I’m good, dad,” Ghost said without taking his eyes off the road.
“You come from me, so you can’t lie to me, C.J.” Ghost cut his eyes at his father. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”
“Why? I named you after me, Chancellor King Junior, and you should wear it with pride,” Chance told him.
“I do, Daddy, and I didn’t mean no disrespect by it. It’s not the fact that I gotta play driver, instead of sitting to your right where I belong. I’m cool with that. It’s everything else about this little outing that’s got me irked. Why the hell do we have to come all the way out here to kiss the back of this nigga’s hand like we ain’t royalty too?” Ghost fumed.
“First, let’s get something straight, son. We have been Kings of Five-Points in name and power for over one hundred years. From great granddaddy on down, we were born gangsters and have never, nor will we ever, kiss the hand of another muthafucka. This trip isn’t about a pissing contest, but a gesture of good faith. Our two families have been doing business together for decades and it’d have been looked upon poorly for us not to show up in person to deliver our congratulations.”
Ghost snorted. “And when was the last time they been south of Lafayette? Listen, Daddy, I get what you’re trying to say. This is a respect thing, and I get it. I had no problems with it when the old man was running things. I was even cool when it looked like the eldest boy was in charge, because he had earned his stripes in the streets, but what has this kid done to earn the respect of a real gangster?”
“Stepped up and kept his father’s legacy intact when his number was called!” Maureen interjected, tiring of Ghost’s belligerence. “Son, regardless of how anyone feels about the present state of things, there isn’t much any of us can do to change it, at least not presently. Politics are a part of the game. Now if spending an hour or so of your time to help solidify this new relationship is too much to ask of you, then you can drop us off and come back to pick us up when we’re ready to leave. If not, stand as your father’s strong right hand like I raised you to be and stop crying like a damn girl!”
*
“Damn, look at all these cars!” Belle squealed with her face pressed against the glass of the Range Rover she was riding in. She was a petite young thing with rich brown skin and large doe eyes. There were luxury cars and limos stretching nearly an entire block, all waiting to be granted access to the same place. Several valets scrambled back and forth trying to accommodate the guests and their cars, but they were having a rough time of it with all the traffic.
“Gotta be at least a dozen of them, at least that I can see.” Brianna adjusted her glasses, taking a quick mental count of the vehicles. She was a light-skinned, unassuming girl with zero fashion sense, but the mind of a genius. This is how she got the nickname Brain.
“And we’re stuck at the back of this shit,” Natalia huffed, flashing traces of the accent she had been trying to shake since arriving in the United States two years prior. She was a Nordic-looking blonde with cold blue eyes and thick pouty lips. For as beautiful Natalia might’ve been, she was also incredibly dangerous. Before coming to stay with Ruby, she had been an orphan on the streets of Belarus. Those days in Russia were dark ones and Natalia was forced to do some things she wasn’t proud of in the name of survival.
“Language!” Ruby snapped from the backseat, tapping her cane on the floor of the truck for emphasis. She was swathed in the shadows of the vehicle, face hidden under a large church hat and eyes masked by sunglasses. Ruby had been so quiet that the girls had almost forgotten she was with them. That’s how the old woman was, rarely seen but she was always heard when it mattered.
“Sorry, Ms. Ruby,” Natalia said, sounding like a child who had just been scolded.
Belle cupped her hand over her mouth to try and hide her snicker. Natalia was always picking on her so she got a kick out of Ms. Ruby humbling the white girl.
“And you,” Ruby whacked the back of the driver seat to get Belle’s attention, “When we get inside, you be sure to keep those sticky fingers to yourself. I don’t want you embarrassing us in front of our hosts. Do you understand me, Lulabelle?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Belle seemed to curl in on herself. “Dag, why y’all always act like I steal stuff wherever I go?” she pouted.
“Because you do!” Natalia slipped in.
Belle and Natalia went back and forth, with Brain trying to defuse the situation to no avail.
Ruby sat in the back shaking her head in disappointment while the girls bickered. Belle had Natalia so mad that her face had turned as red as a tomato. From the frightened look in Brain’s eyes, she probably thought Natalia was about to hit Belle, but Ruby knew better. In Ms. Ruby’s house, most offenses could be forgiven, but harming each other would get you exiled or worse. Ruby instilled a sense of sisterhood into all the young women who came under her wing. No matter what race or background you came from, all were family in her house.
Of her three charges riding with Ruby, Belle had been with them the shortest time. She had a knack for rubbing most of the girls the wrong way, but got under Natalia’s skin the most; probably because of the circumstances under which Belle had come to them.
Belle had made the mistake of picking the home Ms. Ruby and the girls stayed in to burglarize. Natalia had been on guard duty that night and didn’t even notice the little girl slip into the house. Had it not been for Brain’s weak bladder ruining the heist, Belle would’ve made off with all Ms. Ruby’s good jewelry and half the silverware. Natalia wanted to bury Belle in the backyard, but Ms. Ruby had something else in mind. Anyone skilled enough to get past the blue-eyed wolf would make a welcome addition to their little family of misfits. So, against Natalia’s protests, Ruby welcomed Belle into her home for wayward girls. Belle
would one day go on to become a master burglar… if she didn’t manage to get herself killed first.
Ruby spotted a handsome man wearing a black suit and ear-piece making his way towards their vehicle. He had rich chocolate skin and curly black hair that was freshly cut and blended into his smooth black beard. To women who laid eyes on him, he looked downright edible, but Ms. Ruby recognized the killer glint in his eyes. “Moment of truth,” she tapped her cane on the floorboard. “Be sure to mind your manners and don’t speak unless spoken to. Most importantly, remember who you represent,” she warned, adjusting her big hat.
“Invitations?” The man in the black suit requested in an easy tone. This was Brutus; he handled security for the property. He was as dangerous as he was easy on the eyes.
Ruby removed a laminated card from her purse and handed it to him. He eyeballed it for a few seconds before pulling what looked like a supermarket price-checker from his jacket. He scanned the card, and only when the LED light flashed green did he motion for the other valets to come open the doors. He reserved the pleasure of helping Ruby out of the car for himself. Ruby remained poised, while the other girls looked over the property, starstruck. Even the normally stoic Natalia seemed impressed, but it was Belle who put into words what they were all thinking.
“Holy shit!”
Brutus smirked. It wasn’t the first time he had seen that response when people visited for the first time, but no matter how many times he saw it, his heart always filled with pride knowing that he was the guardian.
After letting Ms. Ruby and her girls bask in it for a few seconds, Brutus spoke up. “Welcome, honored guests, to the Clark Estate.”
CHAPTER 3
Shai Clark sat in his office, hunkered down in his favorite chair. It was a large leather wing-backed number, lined with metal studs. If you looked closely, you could see that the studs were crafted to resemble small golden crowns. It had been commissioned by his late father, handcrafted and imported from Italy. Shai could still remember the first time he had climbed into the beautiful chair. With his thin legs hanging over the edge, feet barely able to touch the ground, it was like sitting on a cloud and looking down at the world. Years later when the leather had begun to crack and some of the crowns had fallen away, the effect it had on Shai hadn’t changed. It was then he realized that it wasn’t how the chair was built that made him feel powerful when he sat in it, but what it was built for - to seat kings.
On the desk in front of him, his laptop sat flipped open. An old college basketball game was playing on the screen; NC State vs. Kentucky. The television was muted, but Shai didn’t need to hear the play-byplay to know what was happening in the game; he had relived it more times than he could count. The match had been promoted as The Battle of the Backcourts, with a future NBA draft pick out of Kentucky trying to knock the chip from the shoulder of a second-year point guard from New York City who had nearly singlehandedly carried N.C. State to within a win of a tournament berth. The stands inside Rupp Arena were packed for the nationally-televised event. Most expected it to be a good game, but none were quite ready for the ensuing duel. Kentucky’s NBA prospect hung thirty points on N.C. state, with twenty coming in the first half, but the cocky sophomore’s game-winning three-pointer is what everyone remembered. Shai Clark carrying his team to the tournament was amongst the sweetest of his life, and then the other shoe dropped and life as Shai knew it had been ripped to pieces.
In addition to being the school’s star point guard, Shai was also the campus bookie. However disgruntled loser blew the whistle about Shai taking bets on the games he played in, and got him bounced out of school and a lifetime ban by the NCAA. His father putting a good lawyer on the case saved Shai from being brought up on charges, but his career and reputation had been ruined. With his academic and sports career dashed, Shai returned home and got involved in the family business.
A soft knock on the door drew Shai’s attention from the game. “Come,” he said, closing the laptop.
A heartbeat later, Swann walked in the room. He had traded his street clothes for a button-up shirt, jeans and Timberlands. “I thought I’d find you hiding in here, Slim,” he called Shai by his nickname.
“Man, I wasn’t hiding.”
“I don’t know what else I’d call it when you’ve got about three hundred guests on the property, but your ass is tucked away in here instead of mingling. You were probably in here watching that damn game again,” Swann turned the laptop towards him and flipped it open.
“You think you know me, don’t you?”
“Better than most. We’ve been running tough since the seventh grade,” Swann reminded him.
Swann and Shai had a history that went back to before Poppa was boss of bosses and the Clarks were still living in the hood. Back then, Swann was just a snot-nosed kid selling dime bags on the block for whoever would allow him to eat. In the beginning, Poppa didn’t like the fact that Shai and Swann were so tight, because Swann was what his father called “street poisoned” and he didn’t want it rubbing off on his middle child. He had a plan for Shai, and getting caught up in the things Swann was doing wasn’t a part of that plan. Even when he tried to forbid Shai from running around with Swann, the two would sneak and hook up anyhow. After a while, Poppa realized that there was nothing he could do about the bond between the two boys, so instead of pushing Swann away, he pulled him in closer. He pulled Swann in off the corners and gave him a position as a part of Tommy’s crew. While Shai was getting his education in the classroom, Swann was getting his on the block. Tommy’s new protégée proved to be not only loyal, and it didn’t take him long to climb the criminal ladder. By the time Shai had come home from college, Swann had risen from Tommy’s pupil to his right hand.
Shai had been around the streets all his life, but never truly in them. After Poppa was murdered, it was Swann who Shai leaned on heaviest to help put things back in order. Shai Swann became both his confidant as well as his enforcer. Swann played a major role in holding the family together when things were falling apart and in truth, Shai doubted that he’d have been able to hold onto what his father had built without his best friend. When Shai’s ascension to the throne became official, it was only right that Swann stand as his right hand and second in command. Some of the other capos had frowned on the move, thinking it should’ve went to Big Doc, or maybe even Angelo. Both of them had served faithfully under Poppa Clark for many years, which was the exact reason Shai didn’t offer the position to either of them. They were Poppa’s friends, but Swann was his. The old ways were gone and he was ushering in a new era for the Clark family as he saw fit.
“How did that thing go?” Shai asked.
“For the most part things got a little messy, but that’s to be expected when Tech is involved,” Swann told him.
Shai shook his head. “That little muthafucka is all bite and no bark.”
“That’s why I fucks with him,” Swann said proudly. “By the way, I appreciate you inviting Tech today. I know you really don’t care for him or the Dog Pound.”
“It wasn’t an easy decision, believe that. I figure if you insist on grooming that little maniac then we might as well begin the process of teaching him some table manners. You just make sure you keep that dog on a short leash while he’s here.”
“You ain’t gotta worry about that, Shai. I made it clear to Tech how important this day is so he ain’t gonna fuck it up,” Swann assured him.
“You better make sure he damn well doesn’t, because if he does then it’s your ass!” Shai warned.
“Knock it off, Shai. You act like you forgot that we were once young and wild too.”
“Wild is one thing, but Tech and his crew are only a step up from rabid dogs,” Shai said in disgust.
“That’s the same thing they said about Gator, but Poppa gave him an opportunity to prove otherwise. When the time came, Gator laid down his life so you could sit in that chair!” Swann shot back.
Gator was Shai’s wild ass cousin
. He was on the run for a murder in Florida and had been hiding in New York. Shai had met a lot of gangsters over the years, but none were quite like his cousin. Gator was down for whatever, whenever and had proven it more than a few occasions during his short time in the service of Poppa Clark. Shai and Gator had always been close, but the blood they had spilled in the streets together strengthened that bond. He was a one-man kill squad and had singlehandedly turned the tide in the Clark war against the Italians. He lived for the Clark cause and had ultimately died for it having given his own life in a fire-fight with the police so that his comrades could escape. There was not a day that went by that Shai didn’t think of his cousin and what might have been had he lived.
“You can’t compare Gator to Tech,” Shai told him.
“Why? Because Gator had us to turn to and Tech is out here all alone? That plus a few years is the only difference between them,” Swann said. “Look Shai, I’m not asking you to take the kid to the park and play catch with him, just don’t be so quick to condemn the youngster. Give him a chance.”
“I’ll think about it,” Shai finally relented.
“Fair enough, but while you’re thinking, just remember that this empire was built on the bullets and blood of men like Gator and Tech.”
“You seen Tommy?” Shai asked.
“Not since this morning. He’s probably in that little private library of his, brooding and shit,” Swann joked.
“Seems like that’s all he ever does lately. Since he came home from prison, Tommy has been acting different and I’m starting to worry about it,” Shai admitted.
“You’d be a little sour too if you had to sit up in a wheelchair for the rest of your days, not to mention the two years he had to lay down while fighting those murders,” Swann pointed out.
Poppa Clark’s murder affected the lives of everyone around him, good or bad, especially his children. It had changed them all mentally, but Tommy was the only one forced to make physical adjustments. He had been first on the scene the evening Poppa was hit. They had Shai to thank for discovering Fat Mike’s treacherous plot. Tommy showed up, guns blazing and murder in his heart. He laid down several of the assassins, but was too late to save his father. Shortly after Tommy showed, so did the police. All it took was for them to see a reputed killer, armed and standing in a ring of dead bodies, and it wasn’t even up for debate. The police put a dozen slugs into Tommy without giving it a second thought. They had failed in their attempt to kill Tommy, but succeeded in breaking the foundation of the Clark family.
