Landon chuckled. “It was your own guy. Fat Rat told me everything I needed to know. You’re own man set you up. I guess your team wasn’t as solid as you thought it was, eh?” Landon said with joy. He had lost his only son and the fact that he would make Basil and everyone around him suffer gave him pure satisfaction.
“Stop fucking lying,” Basil said as he burrowed the silencer tip deeper into Landon’s forehead.
“He told me everything. He knew about it from the jump. I wanted my revenge and I got it. A gambler will do anything when he’s on his last dime and looking for that one bounce-back bet. I sent a letter to Kane claiming the murder proudly and letting him know what went down. His team was responsible for the murder of my son, so he had to pay. He should have given you up when it first happened. But he was too much of a pussy. Therefore, he felt my pain and I’m proud of it. Your whole crew is imploding and I’m satisfied with knowing that. Stop being a pussy and kill me already. I’m ready to see my son,” Landon admitted bravely as he put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes and prepared for impact.
Boom!
* * *
Kane and Fat Rat were sitting in the den, watching the game as they did every Sunday during football season. Kane sipped on scotch while Fat Rat was on the edge of his seat, focused in on the game. His team was losing and it wasn’t looking good for his bet.
“You bet on this one?” Kane asked, already knowing the answer. Kane knew his friend too well and understood that if there wasn’t a wager placed on a game, Fat Rat wouldn’t deem it even worth watching.
“Just something light,” Fat Rat replied, not even taking his eyes off the television screen. Kane looked around and took a deep breath. Sundays Moriah usually cooked for them as they watched the game. Kane looked to the kitchen and could imagine her smiling at him. The wave of sadness overcame him and he couldn’t take it.
“I’m taking a walk in the back to clear my head. I can’t stay in here,” Kane said as he rose up from the leather sofa and then downed the remaining scotch in his glass. Fat Rat looked up at Kane and saw the distress in his eyes and instantly shared his pain.
“It sure is a lot different without Mo, huh?” Fat Rat added as guilt crept into his chest.
“Yeah, it’s different. It will never be the same. Somebody took my only child from me,” Kane said as he shook his head, still in disbelief.
“I still can’t believe it,” Fat Rat said as he became teary-eyed as well. Kane placed his hand on Fat Rat’s shoulder and comforted his right-hand man.
“I’ll find out who do this. Trust me. Just have to prepare to bury my baby girl,” he said just before he walked toward the back patio and then out into the backyard. Fat Rat had to fight tears, knowing that he was indirectly responsible for the murder. He thought he was giving up Basil, but Moriah paid the consequences. This was a burden that he would have to carry on his shoulders for the rest of his life. Also a secret that he would have to take to the grave. He wanted to come clean to Kane, but how could he? How could he tell his best friend that he set up the shooting that eventually got his only child riddled with bullets? Fat Rat looked and saw that halftime was approaching and decided to follow Kane outside to help comfort him.
Fat Rat headed toward the back to join Kane. He noticed that Kane was gathering some hay bales with two metal hooks. Fat Rat saw something that he had rarely seen from his friend. Kane was crying, silently, but tears were streaming down his face.
“You okay?” Fat Rat asked as he slid his hands into his slacks and walked over to Kane.
“Yeah … I’m good,” Kane said as he dropped a metal hook to the ground and quickly wiped the tears from his eyes. “Help me take some hay to the barn,” Kane said as he nodded his head in the direction of the stack of hay.
“Sure thing, Kane,” Fat Rat answered as he picked up a hook and struck the bale of hay. Kane and Fat Rat made their way to the barn and then walked onto the steel skywalk that hovered over the oval hog pit. Kane tossed the bale of hay down in the pit and then helped Fat Rat toss his bale over.
Kane stared into the red mud-filled pit and shook his head in disbelief. Fat Rat could feel Kane’s pain and placed his hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him.
“We’re going to get through this, family,” Fat Rat assured. “I can’t imagine the pain of burying your child.”
“Especially when your best friend is the reason for it,” Kane said, clenching his jaws. He then slid his hand into his pocket and pulled out a handwritten letter from Landon, basically gloating in his glory, breaking down everything that had transpired. The letter exposed Fat Rat for setting up the hit. Landon explained that he originally had called the hit for Basil but it was a bonus when he got Kane’s only daughter. Those words were daggers to Kane’s heart. To have a man gloating about the death of his daughter was the worst thing that he had experienced in his entire life.
“Wait, Kane,” Fat Rat tried to explain as his heart pumped harder than it ever had.
“Wait for what!” Kane yelled at the top of his lungs. “What the fuck am I waiting for?” he repeated as he pressed the letter to Fat Rat’s chest. Fat Rat grabbed the letter and looked at it for a while, reading it from the top. He began to comprehend what the letter conveyed and instantly his eyes began to water. He knew that he was the cause of Kane’s pain and the truth was exposed.
“I didn’t know that she would be there, Kane,” Fat Rat tried to explain. Kane swiftly pulled a gun from the small of his back and put it to Fat Rat’s head.
“But she was there! You…” Kane began to break all the way down. “She was there and paid the cost. So now … I will not rest until all parties involved in my baby’s death is in the dirt.”
“But Kane…,” Fat Rat pleaded.
“Shut up! Don’t say another word,” Kane comanded. He stepped back and glanced down. “Jump…”
“What?” Fat Rat asked.
“You heard what I said, motherfucker. Jump,” Kane repeated. “Five … four…” He began to count and pulled back the hammer to his gun, notifying Fat Rat that he would have to jump in the hog pit or take a bullet to the head.
“I love you, Kane,” Fat Rat said just before he jumped down about twenty feet into the pit. A loud thud echoed throughout the barn as Fat Rat’s legs hit the dirt. On impact, his legs instantly broke, causing him to scream in agonizing pain. He immediately fell on his back and continued to scream and rock back and forth. Kane looked down and watched as his best friend suffered.
“I love you too,” Kane whispered as he lifted two fingers to his mouth and let out a loud whistle. Almost instantly, the sound of huffs, pattering, and loud oinks invaded the air. Kane looked down and waited for the feeding frenzy to begin. The African warthogs attacked Fat Rat so quick and viciously. Over a dozen oversize hogs bit him all over his body and pulled it in many directions, literally trying to tear him apart. Fat Rat tried to fight the hogs off, but they were too vicious and powerful for him. It was brutal. Kane watched without blinking and was almost in a trance. He tuned out all of the yells by Fat Rat and the horrifying squeals of insane hogs as they mauled Fat Rat to death.
Kane was so zoned out, he didn’t see the hooded man creeping up the stairs and eventually sneaking behind him. Kane didn’t snap out of it until he felt two hands pushing him in the back with full force, causing him to fall into the pit, joining his partner in crime. Kane yelled at the top of his lungs while frantically reaching, flailing his arms and legs wildly, until he forcefully hit the red mud below. A big thud echoed throughout the barn at the moment Kane crashed flat on his back, instantly breaking it. An excruciating pain shot through his body as he let out a grunt on impact. He wanted to squirm in pain, but he couldn’t move his body. He was instantly paralyzed from the waist down. He moaned in agony as he stared up into the eyes of Basil, who had removed his hood and gazed at him intensely. Fat Rat was right next to him, getting dismembered by the warthogs. He was right next to his lifelong partner in crime. T
hey would now be partners in death. The hogs instantly began to work on Kane and it was a bloody massacre.
Basil looked down at the former members of his team being brutally mutilated. He wished that he would have never hooked up with Kane. His entire world was turned upside down. Basil had only told two women in his entire life that he loved them and now both of them were dead. Basil hated the streets. He despised the streets. The streets took everything from him. As he looked down at the horrific murders taking place, he shook his head in anguish. Seeing the man that ran the streets with an iron fist being murdered so viciously confirmed the obvious. He then knew that in the streets, there was no such thing as a king. There were never winners … only losers.
For years to come, Flint, Michigan, would remember the name Kane Garrett. His ideologies and principles were the blueprint to the ultimate street dream. Hustlers would use Kane’s teachings, as would a particular author. Kane would forever be a legend to the city; a flawed legend but nevertheless, he would be remembered as “almost” king. But you see, that’s what he understood that most aspiring hustlers didn’t. He knew that his doomsday would come, because the streets had been and always would be undefeated.
“Ba.…sil! You are a part of me!” Kane screamed just before a hog violently bit into his neck, severing a main artery, killing him instantly. Kane died while telling Basil something he had longed to tell him. However, it fell on deaf ears as Basil never looked back.
The streets have no king. The streets have no king. The streets have no king …
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
JaQuavis Coleman is a prolific writer from Flint, Michigan, and is known for his witty street tales that depict the street/urban lifestyle. His clever storytelling ability gives readers a perspective from a young street hustler, and the authenticity is evident. In 2013 he was honored by Ebony magazine as being one of the top 100 most influential African Americans in the country. He’s the author of the Dopeman series and the Cartel series with Ashley Antoinette Coleman. You can sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THE STREETS HAVE NO KING. Copyright © 2017 by JaQuavis Coleman. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
Cover design by Joshua Wirth for Pixill Design
The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 978-1-250-08127-8 (trade paperback)
ISBN 978-1-4668-9314-6 (e-book)
e-ISBN 9781466893146
Our e-books may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by e-mail at [email protected].
First Edition: April 2017
The Streets Have No King Page 21
