The Streets Have No King

by JaQuavis Coleman

  “Oh yeah?” Basil asked while returning the smile. Moriah stopped and turned toward Basil. She then wrapped her arms around him and looked up into his face.

  “Yeah, look at you. You are changing. You remind me of a great man I know,” Moriah said as she looked at Basil’s attire. His entire look had transformed. Italian-cut slacks and loafers replaced sweatpants and sneakers. Basil was becoming king and the entire city knew it. Over the past six months, he had made close to a million dollars’ profit and on top of that, he’d made his connects, Kane and Carter, even more. Basil had taken like a duck to water and expanded his business tenfold. He was seeing more money than he ever had, just as Kane promised. Basil leaned down and kissed his woman. Just as he was about to tell her he loved her, a group of men walked past them and one of them bumped Basil. Basil was instantly offended as the group of well-built Irish guys kept walking as if they hadn’t bumped against him.

  “Watch where you going, potna,” Basil said loudly as he watched the men walk down the sidewalk. Once they heard Basil’s comment they all turned around and began walking toward him and Moriah.

  “Or what, nigger?” the man in the middle said, a beer in his hand. Basil realized who the man was as he approached. It was L.J., Landon’s overzealous son. L.J.’s face was red and he was obviously drunk, as were his three friends. L.J. walked directly into Basil’s face and they revisited the tension that they shared during their previous meeting. “Or what?” L.J. repeated as he stood toe to toe with Basil.

  “Just forget it, Basil. Let’s go, baby,” Moriah said as she tried to pull Basil away.

  “Better listen to your bitch and get the fuck out of here. You’re in the wrong part of town, motherfucker. Go back to Flint wit’ the rest of your kind,” L.J. stated aggressively. Basil’s jaws were clenched so tightly that veins began to form in his forehead. The fact that L.J. had called Moriah a bitch and blatantly disrespected her enraged him. Basil was on fire! He heard Kane’s lesson in his head, Power wasn’t what you did in the time of adversity … sometimes it’s what you didn’t do during that time. Basil shook his head and looked down at Moriah. She placed her hand on his jaw and whispered, “Let’s just go, okay?” She knew that Basil was outnumbered and didn’t want anything violent to go down.

  “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s go,” Basil said as he nodded in agreement. He grabbed Moriah’s hand and led her away from the men. Basil had already begun to plan how he would handle L.J. at another time. They didn’t get five feet away before L.J. poured beer over Moriah’s head, causing it to trickle down her entire body. L.J. and his crew erupted with laughter.

  Moriah stopped in her tracks and gasping as she held her hands in front of her while beer dripped down her body. Infuriated, Basil reached for the gun that was in the small of his back, but Moriah grabbed his wrist, stopping him from pulling it out. So Basil decided to handle his business the old-school way: with his hands. He charged L.J., tackling him to the ground. Basil began to pound him and L.J. was no match for Basil’s wrath and strength. L.J.’s crew attacked Basil, knocking him off of their friend. They all began to jump on Basil, and Moriah screamed, trying to get them to get off of him, but it was to no avail. They tried to stamp him out, but Basil managed to get to his feet and began to fistfight with all of them at the same time. He caught some blows, but he landed his share as well. The fight ended up in an alley as they rumbled like savages. Basil stumbled and his back was against a brick wall but he kept his footing.

  Moriah tried to run over and help him but L.J. delivered a haymaker to her chest that landed her flat on her backside, clutching her chest in pain. Basil snapped. He reached into the small of his back and pulled out his handgun. L.J. was about to deliver a hard kick to Moriah, when a single shot rang out. The bullet ripped through L.J.’s chest. L.J. gripped his chest in agony, letting out a roar, and dropped to his knees. L.J. stared at Basil as if he couldn’t believe that he had been shot, his eyes as big as golf balls. His eyes rolled up in his head and then he fell flat on his face and into a pool of his own blood.

  Moriah stared in horror while L.J.’s crew ran out of the alley. Basil watched as L.J.’s body jerked for the last time, then snapped out of his daze. He grabbed the bottom of his shirt and wiped off the gun before he tossing it aside. He swiftly helped Moriah up off the ground.

  * * *

  Basil had called Kane and told him everything about the murder that occurred the night before, except the fact that Moriah had been with him.

  “This isn’t good, Youngblood. This isn’t good at all,” Kane said calmly as he faced Basil and slid his hands inside of his pockets. His custom-tailored suit fit him flawlessly and signature diamond cuff links shone as the sunlight bounced off of them.

  “I know,” Basil admitted as he dropped his head and shook it in disappointment.

  “I sent someone over there and they have it all taped up. They shut down the entire block. The good thing is that it was in the Irish district. That’s all old buildings over there. There were no surveillance cameras. But that’s not our problem. Landon is a very powerful man with a long arm,” Kane explained.

  “What do you want to do?” Fat Rat asked.

  “That man just lost a child. He is going to want blood. However, we are prepared for whatever should come our way. We are a family and we stick together. One of our battles is all of our battles. I already got word that Landon wants a meeting with me. I’m going to check his temperature and see what it is,” Kane answered.

  “I’m a man. I will stand on my own. I’m prepared to deal with anything comes my way. I have an army of young niggas that’s ready to go to war,” Basil said fearlessly.

  “See, that’s where your downfall will be,” Kane said as he walked close to Basil. He placed his hand on Basil’s shoulder. “This is chess, not checkers. You have to think about your moves. You’re making more money than you have ever made. Do you know the number-one killer of street business?” Kane asked. He then continued, answering his own question. “War. War is horrible for business. Murder brings cops. Cops bring the feds. Feds bring life sentences. A true hustler flies under the radar and gets money … as he should. You can’t do that while in the middle of a war.”

  “I see. What should I do?” Basil asked.

  “Nothing. That’s what you have me for. This is an OG call that I have to make. We might have to drop off a bag to show our remorse for his loss. I’m anticipating that Landon will respect the game. He has to know how much of a hothead his son was. He knows how the game goes. He’s been in the streets for a very long time. Let’s just hope he sticks to the code and nothing comes of this,” Kane stated.

  * * *

  “I didn’t get a good look at him. They got into a slight altercation and the next thing we knew, shots rang out. It all happened so fast,” the young man said as he sat on the couch inside of his uncle’s office. It was L.J.’s cousin Tony, who was there the night of the shooting. Two detectives were standing in front of him with notepads in hand. Tony looked over at his uncle, who sat quietly at his desk as he supervised the interview.

  “So, what race was the guy?” one of the detectives asked.

  “I’m not too sure. He had tan skin. Maybe he was black … maybe Mexican. Could have been Middle Eastern. I don’t remember,” Tony said nonchalantly, blatantly giving them misleading answers. The detective shifted his stance and placed his hands on his belt line. He was noticeably growing impatient with the lack of cooperation.

  “Look, you have to give us something, kid. We can’t find out who did this if you don’t give us some sort of information. There were no cameras in the area, no witnesses, and no trace. If you don’t help us this will be an unsolved mystery. You might want to think deep and hard before you give your next answer. Who murdered your cousin L.J.?” the detective asked sternly.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t remember,” Tony lied. Landon had heard enough and walked over to the detective and placed his hand on his shoulder.

 
“I think that we’re done here, fellas,” Landon said as he extended his hand for a shake. The detective gritted his teeth, exasperated. He knew what was going on. Landon and his family had a different type of justice in mind. They sought street justice and it was apparent. The detective reluctantly took Landon’s hand while shaking his head in disappointment. He knew what was to come and the only thing he could do was watch the plot unfold.

  “We will be keeping a close eye on this situation. Move wisely,” the detective said before he exited the office and out of the pub. Landon turned on his heel and walked toward his nephew. He leaned down and kissed him on the forehead.

  “Thatta boy,” he said encouragingly. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His nephew had told him the truth and gone through what happened on that night for what seemed like a hundred times.

  “Are you sure it was Kane’s boy?” Landon asked, not wanting it to be true. Landon respected Kane and knew that it would be the start of something catastrophic if he pushed the button for a street war. Nevertheless, Landon was furious and vengeance for his son was a must.

  “Yeah, I’m sure. His fucking nigger face is sketched into my brain,” Tony said as his own face grew red with hatred. Landon nodded as he crossed his arms and began to pace the hardwood floor.

  “He was alone?” Landon asked, getting all of the facts straight.

  “Yeah. Well, he had some bitch with him. But he was the only guy,” Tony answered.

  Landon placed two fingers in his mouth and whistled, signaling for his bodyguard, who also acted as a bartender for his pub. Moments later, a man stepped into the office while drying his hands with a towel.

  “Get Kane on the phone. Set up a meeting tomorrow morning,” he demanded as he walked over to his desk and slipped on the blazer that rested on his chair.

  “Yes, sir,” the man answered before he disappeared back into the pub. Landon reached into his inner coat pocket and pulled out a pair of shades just before sliding them onto his face. He felt the tears coming and he had to hide them from the world. He had to quickly shake it off and go visit the coroner to identify his only child.

  * * *

  Basil stood on the roof of the projects along with Lil Noah, who sat on one of the air-conditioning units. Basil looked over the projects and realized that in under a year, he had taken over the whole premises. Everyone in the projects either worked for him or was on his payroll in some manner. He had even gotten the senior citizens on his side by offering all-expenses-paid weekly buses to the casino and free Sunday dinners at the rental hall. He was beloved and a man of the people. Although Flint had a mayor, within those project gates, Basil was the dictator and the beloved son of the ghetto. He grew up in these projects and everyone felt they were a part of his success because they had witnessed his rise to power. Lil Noah looked at his mentor and saw that he was in deep contemplation.

  “I say that we just go push it to them niggas. Why should we be on defense when we could be an offense? You got an army out here, bruh. The only thing you have to do is give me the green light. Push that button and the whole projects will light that Irish district up,” Noah suggested with passion. He was ready to go full force.

  “Nah, we have to be smart. It’s more at stake than just what lies on the surface. Money has never been this good for us, bruh. Just look at you. You not a little knucklehead anymore … you bossed up, eating more than you ever have. Why would we throw that all away with a street war?” Basil said as he paced back and forth with his hands slid into his pockets. Lil Noah watched and listened closely just before he unleashed a small grin.

  “What’s funny?” Basil said as he caught a glimpse of Lil Noah smiling.

  “Look at you. You are starting to sound and act like the god Kane,” he said half jokingly. Basil looked down at his hands tucked in his pockets and quickly snatched them out. He returned the smile and shook his head, knowing that his comrade was correct.

  “All bullshit aside, though. I think I may have to go away for a second until shit die down. Kane said it’s too hot for me to stay in town right now,” Basil said, not happy with the circumstances but he understood it was the smartest thing to do. Basil was more worried about trouble with the law than the street aspect.

  “Damn, B, you know the streets need you. We got a well-oiled machine going on here. We have to keep it going,” Lil Noah said as he stood up and pointed toward the projects.

  “That’s right. We do have a well-oiled machine. That’s why I can leave and we won’t miss a beat. Everything will still be the same. I will still have Viv bring the joints up and nothing will change. I will just be running it from out of town, that’s all. I’ll be back. I just need to step away until shit dies down. You feel me? By winter all of this shit will be forgotten about and I can return and it will be business as usual,” Basil explained confidently.

  “No doubt. I’m with you, bruh,” Lil Noah said as he walked up to Basil and dapped him and hugged him directly after. Basil and Kane had a long talk earlier that morning and they both decided Basil leaving would be the best thing to do. So it was confirmed. Basil would have to be away for a while. He had to explain that to his mother and also his love Moriah. The thought of leaving them made the burden a few tons heavier.

  “Where you going, by the way?” Lil Noah asked as they released their embrace.

  “Miami,” Basil answered as he nodded.

  * * *

  “You bring me a suitcase full of money in return for peace? I was expecting to see Basil’s head on a stick. That’s his name, right? Basil?” Landon asked.

  “Yeah, that’s his name,” Kane answered as he slowly nodded.

  Landon took his time before he spoke. He picked up a cigar that rested in his ashtray and one of his goons immediately walked over to light it for him. Landon took a couple of puffs to make sure his favorite stick was lit and then blew out a few smoke rings. He watched as they danced in the air and followed it by blowing out the remainder of smoke rapidly. He then looked at the big faces on the hundred-dollar bills. They were neatly lined up inside of the briefcase as it was popped open on top of his desk facing him. Kane had put it there just before he took his seat. Landon then looked at Kane and Kane met his stare and neither of them blinked as they played a silent game of mental chess. Neither of them wanting to look away first.

  Kane sat in the chair in front of Landon’s desk just as cool as a cucumber. His leg was propped up on his knee, displaying his silky designer socks and expensive loafers. His hands were collapsed into one another and his shoulders were broad and straight as he sat there without an ounce of fear in his body. Although Landon had five goons in the room with him, Kane did not bust a sweat. He’d walked in alone and came to handle business as usual. It was high noon, but the office was dim. The sunlight was blocked from shining in because all of the blinds were closed. Only the lamp that sat in the corner illuminated the room, giving it a grim orange hue. Landon had Frank Sinatra playing in the background as he took his time puffing his cigar. Kane decided to break the tension by addressing the issue.

  “I came here out of respect. My respect for you is the sole reason why I came with a briefcase instead of something else. I understand that you lost a son and I could never imagine that pain. I feel for you. You have my deepest condolences. However, your son wasn’t the most diplomatic young man. You know that and I know that. That’s why I’m asking you to take that into consideration before you push any buttons.” Kane slowly stood up and buttoned up his blazer. He walked closer to the desk and crossed his hands while putting them down by his belt line, signaling that he wasn’t a threat. “Because I have buttons I could push as well,” Kane warned.

  “My problem isn’t with you, Kane. I want your boy and I want him now,” Landon said as he sat forward and put the cigar out in the ashtray. “Bring him to me!” Landon yelled, not able to hold his composure.

  “I am sorry, my friend. I can’t do that. Not him. Not Basil,” Kane said calmly but sternly.<
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  “So, you are going to flush our friendship down the drain for a mere soldier? We played chess every morning for two years straight upstate. We have the same morals, the same ideologies, and you are flushing that down the drain for this piece of shit. I just want him, nothing else. No war, no cops,” Landon said as his face turned plum red in anger.

  “Oh, now we are friends? We weren’t friends when you nearly beat my friend half to death,” Kane reminded him.

  “You know and I know that was purely business. No one forced his hand and made his ass-bet,” Landon said, referring to a gambling term describing a bet that can’t be honored.

  “That’s neither here or there. The bottom line is, I’m not going to give you Basil and if so much as a hair is harmed on him … I’m going to make it rain forty days and forty nights. But it won’t be water. It will be bullets,” Kane said, still calm.

  “Motherfucker. You come in my fucking establishment, the day after I bury my son, and make threats? You must be out of your cotton-picking mind. I could have my guys fill your body with holes with a snap of my fingers,” Landon threatened. Kane chuckled lightly and put his hand over his mouth and then rubbed his goatee in a downward motion.

  “Please pardon my laughter. It’s getting too tense in here. It’s kind of dark as well. Do you mind?” Kane asked politely as he slowly walked over to the blinds. He pulled the string that opened the blinds of the huge window that displayed the main street the pub sat on. As the sun crept in, something else did too. Fear crept into Landon’s and his goons’ hearts. At least fifty black gunmen were standing outside of the window, on full display, ready for war. Kane smiled and continued, “See, you might could fill me with bullets … but everyone in here would die a horrible death. I would hate to see that happen, Landon.”

  “Get the fuck out,” Landon said, burning in rage.

  “I had planned to. So this is how this is going to go. I’m going to leave you with two things. One, a suitcase full of money. Two, a fair warning. Good day, sir,” Kane said as he smiled and headed toward the door. Just as he reached the door Landon spoke calmly.