The Streets Have No King

by JaQuavis Coleman

  “Ha-ha, I knew we had one,” Fat Rat said as he began to slowly clap and walk toward Basil. Fat Rat threw his arm around Basil and shook him a tad. They all shared a small chuckle as Basil took his hand off the door handle. It was the beginning of a union that would shake the city up for some time.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The only color that matters is green. Remember that. There is no racism, just classism.

  —KANE GARRETT

  Basil stared out of the jet’s window admiring the fluffy, cocaine-colored clouds. The smooth sounds of the Isley Brothers played on the jet’s speaker system and the cold air from the air-conditioning filled the cabin. The gigantic leather seats almost seemed to swallow Basil as he positioned himself comfortably. He looked over at Kane, who was smoking an oversize Cuban cigar while focusing on The Wall Street Journal. Kane had his left leg crossed over his other leg, displaying Armani socks with perfectly tailored pants. His head was low, and he wore his wood-grain-framed Cartier reading glasses, which sat on the tip of his nose. Basil looked over at Fat Rat, who had his head buried in a pillow while leaning against the jet’s window. Basil was in a state of disbelief. He was on a private jet with the biggest boss his city had ever seen. The city’s most honored and protected boss. The fact that Fat Rat was asleep, Basil knew, meant that he was trusted, and he sat back and smiled, thinking about the endless possibilities. Without even looking up, Kane spoke.

  “This is only the beginning, son. Get some rest, you’re going to need it,” he said calmly, as if he were reading Basil’s mind. Basil looked over in shock as Kane’s words spoke directly to his thoughts. Basil smiled and shook his head, impressed as he enjoyed the tunes and the smooth ambience. He looked at the pilot, who wore casual clothes, and instantly knew he was in the company of the highest level of drug dealing. They were just entering the state of Florida and their next stop was Miami … Dade County, to be exact.

  Later that evening, they checked into a small luxury resort just off the ocean. Basil looked out of his window and the view was amazing. Palm trees, blue water, and warm, humid air. It wasn’t anything like back home and Basil was taking it all in. He heard a knock at the door and quickly focused his attention on it. He walked over to the door and opened it. Fat Rat stood on the opposite side, wearing all white linen and a straw fedora.

  “Meet us downstairs in fifteen, Youngblood,” Fat Rat said without any facial expression, cutting straight to the point. “Another thing. Keep this close to you at all times.” He tossed Basil a small burner phone. Basil caught the phone and examined it, wondering what it was for. “This is a line that’s to be used for communication with Kane and only for Kane. Got it?” Fat Rat asked.

  “Cool,” Basil said while still looking down at the outdated phone, and just like that Fat Rat left him standing in the doorway.

  Minutes later, Basil was down in the lobby and saw a man in a suit standing by the entrance door. He waved Basil over and opened the door for him. Basil saw an all-black Lincoln parked up front. The doorman opened the car door for him and Basil smiled. He never had been given the five-star treatment before. He was a hustler, a street nigga. He had never been outside of Michigan and this experience was foreign to him.

  “Thanks, G,” Basil said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of money to tip the man.

  “Ah, ah, ah,” Kane said as he sat inside of the Lincoln, stopping Basil as he attempted to slide the man a twenty-dollar bill. “Get in,” Kane said smoothly and patted the seat next to him. Basil put his money away and slid in.

  “Always let your muscle handle the money,” Kane leaned over and whispered to Basil, giving him game. The doorman closed the door and stepped back. Almost immediately Fat Rat hand him a hundred-dollar bill as he walked up to the Lincoln. Fat Rat sat up front with the driver and they pulled away.

  The first stop was to a brick building that had no sign in the front. Basil looked on, but remained quiet.

  “I brought you to Miami to introduce you to a new way of life. I have been watching you closely, Basil. I know about your little operation and I like what you are doing. But you see … I want to step you into the big leagues. I’m getting too old for this game, so it’s not for me anymore. Let me explain something to you. Selling coke doesn’t have a retirement plan. I need to think about the future. I have all the resources and a master plan. A master plan that can make both you and I a lot of money,” Kane said as he pulled a cigar from his suit jacket and lit it.

  “I’m listening,” Basil replied.

  “I have one of the best cocaine plugs in North America. As you know, I did a little time. So that means the feds are watching me closely. I can’t move around like I used to. I have to keep my hands clean. So I need an extension of myself, you understand?” Kane asked.

  Basil slowly nodded his head.

  “I need you to be that extension,” Kane confirmed.

  “I’m ready,” Basil answered.

  “Not yet. If you’re going to get money…” Kane paused and took a puff of the cigar and blew the smoke into the air. “You have to look like money.” Kane stepped out of the car and entered the building, which belonged to an old friend of Kane’s: his Miami suit tailor.

  * * *

  Kane watched as the gray-haired man took Basil’s measurements. Basil stood on a soapbox with his arms stretched out as the tailor sized him up. Kane and Fat Rat sat back and smiled with their arms crossed. The transformation had begun and they knew that if they groomed Basil correctly, that they would have a monster on their hands. It was rules to the game and if Basil could grasp them, he would be the new and improved Kane Garrett. Kane planned on teaching Basil how to move among vultures and not to make the same mistakes he did. He saw a huge opportunity to get to a position where he once was. Kane looked on as the tailor slid an Italian-cut blazer onto Basil’s shoulders. A perfect fit for a young king. Basil smirked as he glanced in the gigantic mirror that was in front of him. He liked his new look and he finally understood the power of a suit. It was the beginning of something special.

  Kane leaned over to and whispered something to Fat Rat and within seconds Fat Rat exited the building.

  “I have something special for you. While Fat Rat goes and gets it, lets talk,” Kane said as the tailor patted Basil on the back, signaling that he was done. Basil stepped off the soapbox feeling like a million bucks. The tailor exited and left them in the room alone to talk.

  “You looking good, Youngblood,” Kane said, flashing his smile.

  “Thanks,” Basil answered as he examined himself in the mirror, trying to get used to the feeling of having such snug-fitting attire. “Kind of tight,” Basil added as he tugged down on the lapel of his suit.

  “Trust me. It’s just right. Bosses don’t wear clothes hanging off their asses. You are dressed like a grown man. You can walk in any room and compete with that suit on. People believe there is still racism in this country. That’s bullshit. The only color that matters is green. Remember that. There is no racism, just classism. With that suit you blend in with the elite class and that’s half the battle. You have to get in to win,” Kane said, dropping gems.

  Basil listened closely and followed Kane over to the sitting area. They both sat on the leather couches and continued their conversation.

  “I knew you were special. I saw it in your eyes as a young boy. I remember when I first saw you. I grabbed Dog off of you. Remember that?”

  “How can I forget? I hate that mu’fucka still to this day,” Basil said as his temperature noticeably changed. His jaws tightened and the sound of Dog’s name brought rage to his heart.

  “That still bothers you, huh?” Kane asked, noticing the pain in Basil’s eyes.

  “Yeah it does. Every time I see my mother’s limp that he gave her, I see him beating her. Still to this day,” Basil said as he dropped his head.

  “Yeah, Dog wasn’t a good guy. That’s why I sent him away,” Kane said. “How is your mother doing by the way?” Kane s
aid as he placed his hand on Basil’s shoulder.

  “She’s good. She’s six years clean now,” Basil said as he lifted his head and looked Kane in the eye.

  “That’s good. You should be proud of her,” Kane answered. Just as he finished up his sentence, his phone buzzed on his hip. He answered the phone and listened to the person on the other end. Kane listened closely, hung up quickly, and smiled. He stood up and looked at Basil.

  “I have a gift for you,” Kane said.

  They walked outside and there was an additional car parked out front. Fat Rat stood at the trunk, waiting for Kane and Basil to come out. Basil and Kane approached the car, and Kane tapped the trunk and smiled.

  “The special shipment is inside?” Kane asked Fat Rat with a huge smile.

  “Yes indeed. Just as you ordered,” Fat Rat said as he crossed his hands in front of him.

  “Good. Basil … step over here for a sec. I have something for you,” Kane said. Basil stood in front of the trunk. Basil already knew what was inside and he couldn’t wait to get his hands on some weight to put on the streets. I’m about to flood that mu’fucka, Basil thought, referring to his area back home.

  Kane nodded at Fat Rat, signaling him to push the button to pop the trunk. Sure enough, Basil’s gift was inside waiting. However, Basil couldn’t prepare for what he was about to see. Basil focused on what was on the inside and what he saw totally took him off guard. It was a man in the trunk, hog-tied, and in a fetal position. Duct tape was across his mouth and he squirmed like a fish out of water, trying to release himself from the bondage. Basil stepped back in confusion.

  “Don’t step back. Look closer,” Kane said calmly as he stepped to the side and let Basil get a better look. Basil hesitantly stepped forward and looked at the man’s face.

  “Dog…,” Basil whispered and moved toward the man who had haunted his dreams for years.

  “I sent him down to Miami years ago to work under a partner of mine. This is my repayment to you for not ratting on me,” Kane said as he reached into his waist and pulled out a chrome .45. He handed the gun to Basil. Basil took the gun and looked at it as if he’d never seen a gun before. He examined it and its shape as if it were a piece of art. He then focused back on Dog, who looked in his eyes and had total fear on his face. His muffled pleas fell on deaf ears while Basil was locked in on murdering him for all the pain he had caused his family.

  “I never forgot about what you did to my mother. I want to give you something,” Basil said.

  “Hold up,” Kane whispered as he put his hand on Basil’s wrist. Kane then placed his hand on the trunk and lowered it, leaving only enough room for Basil’s hand to fit in the trunk.

  “Don’t want to mess up a good suit,” Kane said calmly as he flashed his perfect smile and glanced around to make sure the coast was clear. Kane then nodded his head so that Basil could proceed.

  Without hesitation he pointed the gun to Dog’s head and let off two rounds. The blast echoed and ripped through Dog’s flesh. Dog stared aimlessly into space with his eyes wide open. Basil had never killed anyone, but that one was easy for him. He had thought about doing it for years, so he was prepared for it mentally. He handed the gun back to Kane and his hand was shaking. However, it wasn’t shaking because of fear, it was shaking because of the fiery rage that burned inside of him. Kane took the gun and placed it into the small of his back. He then looked at his watch.

  “Let’s get out of here. We have a meeting to get to,” Kane said. He closed the trunk, leaving the corpse inside. The tailor came out and got into the driver’s side and pulled the car in his garage. The extra ten grand that Kane left him was for the disposal. Kane, Fat Rat, and Basil got into the Lincoln that was waiting and headed to their next destination. They were going to meet the plug and the head of the Cartel … Carter Diamond.

  * * *

  Marble floors were underneath their feet and the setting was dimly lit and relaxing. They sat inside a members-only cigar lounge on Miami’s strip. It was a small nook, but lavish and exclusive. The smell of robust cigars and the faint sound of a Miles Davis classic filled the air. In their company was Carter Diamond, an old friend of Kane’s who had moved to Miami and become large in the drug game. Basil sat back and watched as the three old friends caught up while sitting around a hand-crafted wooden table. Fat Rat, Kane, and Carter Diamond smoked cigars and talked about old times as Basil just sat back and watched. Kane had instructed Basil to stand guard by the door while he talked business. Kane told Basil to keep the gun that he had killed Dog with, so that’s what he had for protection. After an hour of talking, Kane called Basil over. Fat Rat went and stood by the door, taking Basil’s place. Basil noticed the organization and knew that he was dealing with a different type of street player than he was used to. There was no half stepping.

  “Basil, have a seat. I want to introduce you to someone,” Kane said as he leaned back and puffed a cigar. Basil did as asked and sat down. He looked across at the man and immediately knew he was of a certain age. His neatly trimmed, grayish five o’ clock shadow was a dead giveaway. Basil looked at the man’s pinky ring and saw a cluster of shiny diamonds, and they sparkled so vividly in the light. He sat with a firm posture and a confidence in his eyes that oozed power.

  “I want you to meet an old friend. This is Carter Diamond,” Kane said as he smiled and looked over at his friend.

  “Nice to meet you, sir,” Basil said as he gave the man across from him a nod.

  “Likewise, young man. So you’re Frenchie’s boy, huh?” Carter Diamond said with a smile.

  “Yes, sir,” Basil said.

  “I went to school with Frenchie back in the day,” Carter mentioned. He was from Flint as well and was deeply rooted in the city. He continued, “So Kane tells me you the next guy out of our city.”

  “Yeah, that’s what they say,” Basil replied confidently. Kane and Carter both broke out into laughter at Basil’s response.

  “I like this guy,” Carter said as he looked at Kane while pointing at Basil.

  “I told you. He’s solid,” Kane said in between chuckles.

  “Okay, let’s do it. How many can you handle?” Carter asked Basil, getting straight to the business.

  “How many can you front me?” Basil asked, getting right to business. Kane just sat back with his arms crossed, grinning. Knowing that he was creating a monster. Kane could have easily done the deal for him, but he wanted to use this meeting as a teaching moment for his understudy.

  “You can have as many as you can stand. The ball is in your court. I need ten grand per unit and the rest is yours. Shit so pure you cut it three times and it will be the strongest shit in the Midwest,” Carter assured him. An involuntary smile spread across Basil’s face.

  “Okay, I’ll take ten,” Basil said as he began to think about how he was about to flood the streets. Kane smiled and put his hand on Basil’s and gently tapped it as if he were saying, I’ll take it from here.

  “Make that a hundred,” Kane said calmly as he looked at Carter. Basil didn’t understand the level that Carter was on and who he was dealing with. Kane knew it was nothing but Basil’s inexperience, and that asking for ten bricks on consignment was insulting in the league that they were in, so he decided to help Basil a tad.

  Before he could speak, Carter Diamond said, “One hundred bricks it is,” as he stood and buttoned the two buttons on his suit jacket. He extended his hand to Basil. Basil stood and shook his hand, and like that Basil was connected with the Cartel and had a solid plug on an endless amount of cocaine.

  “Before you guys take off, let’s celebrate. I’m attending the mayor’s brunch tomorrow. You guys should come with. Make a few connections maybe,” Carter suggested.

  “Sounds like a plan,” Kane said as he stood and shook his childhood friend’s hand. Carter shook Basil’s hand as well and just like that; it was over. Basil was connected.

  Kane and Basil walked out of the lounge as Kane threw his arm around h
is protégé. “Now it’s time to learn the rules to this game. It’s time to start our takeover,” Kane whispered to Basil as he exited the spot.

  * * *

  Basil fixed his bow tie and looked around, feeling slightly out of place. He had never worn a tuxedo before and he kept wondering if he looked silly or not. He watched as Kane stood in a crowd alongside of Carter and Fat Rat. They all had flute glasses in their hands and traded war stories while reminiscing and laughing among each other. A live jazz band played on the stage; they too wore tuxedos, all except the lead female singer, who wore a stunning sparkling dress. She sang her rendition of Nina Simone’s “Strange Fruit.” It was the day of the mayor’s annual brunch. This was an invite-only, small gathering held for the movers and shakers of Miami’s business syndicate. Carter Diamond was the lead sponsor and the mayor’s special guest. Basil studied how the people interacted with Carter, and if one didn’t know any better, they would have mistaken him for the mayor. Basil stood against the wall. He felt out of place as he watched the snooty attendees mingle among each other. Just as Basil was about to call the waiter over to bring him another drink, a young man stood right next to him, and leaned on the wall.

  “You must be Kane’s guy,” the Dominican-looking man said. He also wore a suit, but his suit was baggier than the other gentlemen’s, making him stick out like a sore thumb. His long silky hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail and his neck tattoo was on full display. It read, “MECCA.”

  “Who wants to know?” Basil said as he looked around the room and intentionally not at the guy.

  “Whoa … whoa. Slow down, playboy. I just saw yo’ ass over here looking uncomfortable than a mu’fucka. I just thought you would want to take a smoke break. Feel me,” he said as he looked around and then reached into his inner coat pocket, pulling out a neatly rolled joint. He dragged it underneath his nose and inhaled deeply, enjoying the strong weed aroma. Basil looked at him and the joint and didn’t say anything for a few seconds. He then broke down and smiled.