by K'wan
“Of course he didn’t,” Chance said without waiting for Paul’s response. “Ira’s not in California. He’s right downtown in a federal holding cell while they hammer out the details of his agreement. While you’ve been trying to keep your nose clean for the sake of your organization, some of your boys have been doing rogue shit on the side. Ira’s been knocking off cigarette trucks and reselling the product to stores in the ghetto. Unfortunately, he got himself caught in a sting. With him already having a record, they were going to hit him with at least a dime. But ol’ Ira decided he wasn’t built to do hard time, so he threw them a bigger fish—you!”
“If you come in here trying to brand a member of my crew as a rat, you’d better have more than words to validate the ac cusation!” Paul barked. He struggled to keep his anger in check. He couldn’t let Chance have the upper hand.
“I figured you’d feel that way,” Chance said, reaching into the front pocket of his suit jacket to remove his phone. He thumbed a few keys and, seconds later, Paul’s cell pinged.
Paul picked up his phone and opened the file Chance had sent him. It was a closed-circuit video that showed a small room. There was no sound, but the picture was clear. A man in a white shirt with his sleeves rolled to the elbow stood in the corner watching two men sitting around a small table. One was dressed in a cheap suit that screamed law enforcement, and the second was none other than Ira.
Even without being able to hear what was being said, Paul could guess what was going on. “Where did you get this?”
“You’re asking the wrong question, Paul,” Chance said with a smug edge. “Where I got it isn’t as important as what you plan to do about it. Word gets out that you’ve let a weasel into your uncle’s hen house, they’ll nail your pretty ass to a cross faster than they did Jesus.”
“You come in here trying to shake me down, old man?”
“Friends don’t shake friends down. They offer them solutions.”
“Chance, we’re both from the streets. We know there’s only one solution to a rodent problem,” Paul said.
“Not when you’ve got friends with reach,” Chance said. “Killing Ira isn’t out of the question, but it’s not the wisest course of action. What’s done is done with him, and the feds are going to get their scapegoat, but this doesn’t mean it has to be the one he promised them.”
“If not me, then who?”
“You let me worry about that. All you need to know is that I’m going to make it so Ira points his finger elsewhere and the government will accept the offering.”
“And what’s this going to cost me?” Paul wanted to know.
Chance smiled wide and leaned across the table. “Only to leave here knowing I made a real friend. Are we friends, Paul?” He extended his hand.
Paul stared at the hand as if it were a poisonous snake. No matter how many different scenarios he wheeled around in his head, they all came back to Chance having him by the balls. He stood and took the man’s hand in his. “Yes, Mr. King, I believe we are.”
As their palms met, something eerie passed between them. This was a devil’s bargain to be sure, but owing Chancellor King beat the alternative.
“Actually,” Chance said, as if an afterthought, “there is one small thing I’ll be needing of you in return for making this go away, friend.”
CHAPTER 5
Shadow and his family were finishing up breakfast when a soft tap sounded at the back door. Shadow assumed a family associate was stopping by; all other callers came by way of the front door. Ghost moved to stand, but Shadow jumped up and said, “I got it!”
He rushed to the door, eager to greet their guest. The men employed by his father and brother were dangerous, but they were also a colorful lot. Shadow did his best to hang around them when their paths crossed in the streets because he was thirsty to soak up the game they kicked. He especially looked forward to the times when they came to the house because that usually meant something big was brewing.
Standing on the steps outside the back door was his cousin Monster. His government name was Melvin; Monster was a moniker given to him by his mother. “You’re a cruel little bastard—a monster,” she used to tell him. Monster was the kind of kid who used to set kittens on fire for kicks. He was as ugly on the inside as he was on the outside. His face was one that only a mother could love, and even she could barely stand to look at him. He had dark eyes that were slightly off-center, a flat nose, and big lips that had darkened over the years from smoking so many blunts. His most disturbing feature, though, was his large, misshapen head, which awkwardly balanced on his vein-streaked neck. Scars marked his worn face, courtesy of his many battles on the streets as well as in the prison system— the most pronounced of them being a slash that went from his left cheek up across his head and stopped at the base of his neck. He’d lost half his ear on the day he received that scar, but the man who cut him lost his life.
“’Sup, lil’ nigga,” Monster said in his gravelly voice, palming Shadow’s head.
“Watch my waves,” Shadow complained, moving away from Monster’s mammoth mitt. He brought his hand over his dark hair to smooth it back out. Monster stepped inside the house, but Shadow stopped him. “I know you got something for me, Cuzzo.”
Monster flashed a crooked grin. “Don’t I always?” His plotting eyes peeked into the kitchen to make sure no one could see what he was doing, then he dipped his hand into his pocket. After fishing around for a second, he produced a pair of brass knuckles. Shadow turned the brutish weapon over in his hands and frowned.
“Cuz, I thought you was finally about to lay a pole on me and you bust out with some Fight Club shit? What the hell am I supposed to do with this?”
“Get a nigga off your ass in a tight situation,” Monster replied, before taking the brass knuckles from Shadow. He slipped them over his own thick fingers and flexed them. “See, you young niggas are soft. Shit jumps off and the first thing your brains tell you to do is grab a pistol. What happens when you can’t get to that rod and gotta knuckle up? Let’s say two or three jokers get the drop and you find yourself ass-naked with no iron. Your only hope of survival is a good old-fashioned brawl. One taste of these is all you need to tip the odds in your favor.” Monster punched the brass knuckles into the palm of his other hand. “You bust one nigga’s head open and it’ll give the rest of them food for thought. Trust me on that.” He handed the brass knuckles back to Shadow.
“I’d still rather have a gun,” Shadow mumbled before slipping the brass knuckles into his pocket.
“What are you two devils over there conspiring about?” Maureen asked from the kitchen.
Monster lumbered in with Shadow trailing behind him. “How you this morning, Auntie?” Monster leaned in to give Maureen a kiss on the cheek. “I’m just giving Shadow here a hard time.”
“Busy as ever. And isn’t it a bit early to be hitting the sauce?” Maureen asked, smelling the liquor on his breath.
“Time passes differently when you don’t sleep,” Monster answered.
“I hope your ass is sober enough to drive,” Ghost said, pushing himself up from the table and sliding on his jacket. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”
“I been chauffeuring your ass around for the better part of a year and ain’t got you in a wreck yet, have I?” Monster sneered. Just then he noticed Chapman eyeballing him. “’Sup, Unc?”
“Monster,” Chapman said, as if the name tasted like ashes in his mouth, “you off to strangle kittens this morning?”
“Not yet, but killing a pussy is definitely on my to-do list.”
“Monster,” Maureen said sternly.
“Sorry, Auntie,” he said without looking away from Chapman.
“You hungry, nephew?” Maureen asked him.
Before Monster could respond, Ghost answered for him: “Nah, we got moves to make. See y’all later on.”
Ghost kissed his mother and moved toward the back door.
“Y’all be safe out there and plea
se be on time for the party tonight,” Maureen said. “Are you and your girlfriend coming too, Monster?”
Embarrassment flashed across Monster’s face. “Oh, uh—I didn’t know anything about a party.”
“I’ll fill him in, Mama,” Ghost said over his shoulder.
Monster followed, but not before flashing a murderous look at Chapman.
“What is it with you two?” Maureen asked Chapman after Ghost and Monster had left.
“Whatever do you mean?” Chapman said between two big gulps of coffee.
“You two are family but you couldn’t tell from the way you act toward each other. That’s your brother’s only son.”
“Monster might have Colt’s blood, but not his character. He’s a devil. Being in the same room with him gives me the creeps.”
“There are some who say the same about you,” Maureen said. “You ain’t hardly no saint, Chapman.”
“Of course not. I’m a King. We’re all power-hungry killers, or haven’t you heard?”
Chapman’s phone vibrated on the table. For as quickly as he snatched it up, you’d have thought someone had just dropped their wallet. Shadow took note of the sneaky grin that appeared on his uncle’s face when he slunk out of the kitchen to take the call.
“No, Chapman, I don’t need any help cleaning up,” Maureen called out after him. Her brother-in-law kept walking as if he didn’t even hear her. “Lazy bastard,” she muttered.
“I got it, Ma,” Shadow said, collecting dishes from the table and scraping their contents into the trash. He always offered to help his mom without her having to ask—he was a good son that way. Besides, Shadow could read his mother’s moods better than most, and he could tell that something was weighing on her. He wanted to help her carry it in any way that he could.
Despite her complaint, Maureen was glad to have Chapman out of her kitchen and her face. He worked her nerves, and it didn’t help that his little slip of the lip had raised a question that Maureen wasn’t quite sure she was ready to answer. In truth, she was just as skeptical about this business with her husband and the new direction he wanted to go in, but as his wife and consigliere she would never confess to this.
Maureen knew that Chancellor accepted the legacy his father left him more out of obligation than an actual desire to run a criminal enterprise. Although Chance had been more into school than the streets, when the time came for him to take his father’s place, he did so without complaint. He was an adept hustler, but his morality was his Achilles’ heel. Every illegal move he made was tinged with guilt, a nagging uncertainty that he was doing the wrong thing. And while he was a natural when it came to playing the streets, his heart wasn’t into it. This was why Maureen indulged his political ambitions. At first, politics seemed like a harmless distraction from Chance’s real work, a place where he could wash his hands when he was done playing in the mud. No one expected him to actually be a good politician, especially not Maureen. It was her own fault for underestimating her husband. Chance excelled at whatever he did and this was no different. He was a gifted politician, highly skilled at schmoozing and dealmaking. Of course this worried Maureen. Between Second Chance Realty and the income Chance drew from being a city official, the Kings had enough money to live on for years. But this wasn’t about money. It was about the power that came with being queen. It was something she wasn’t ready to give up yet.
“Did you hear me, Ma?” Shadow asked, snapping his mother out of her daze.
“Huh?”
He held up a printout from the kitchen counter. “What is this?”
“Just a copy of the seating chart for tonight.”
“Then somebody must’ve made a mistake, because they’ve placed this Zaza family at our table,” Shadow said, frowning at the piece of paper. The name Zaza was familiar to him, but he couldn’t place it. He did know that a Zaza wasn’t a King. And Kings sat with Kings.
“No, baby,” Maureen said, “it’s not a mistake. Orlando Zaza is an old friend of the family. He and your daddy used to be in business together until they had a difference of opinion. They’ve recently decided to reconcile. Seeing the Zazas and Kings break bread will send a very strong message to those watching.”
“Boss move,” Shadow said with a smile.
“Orlando will be bringing his family with him,” Maureen continued. “His wife and youngest daughter. Josette’s about your age and has her daddy wrapped around her finger the same as you do with Chance. That being said, I’m going to need you to do your part to make sure that she enjoys herself tonight.”
“You do know that I can take that the wrong way, right?” Shadow said, playfully raising his eyebrows.
“You keep that hot cock of yours under control tonight, Sean. I don’t want the girl deflowered, at least not yet. For tonight? Just make sure that Josette’s comfortable. That she feels like she’s amongst family. You think you can do that?”
“I got you, Ma.”
“That’s my boy.” Maureen kissed him on both cheeks. “Now, don’t you have somewhere to be?”
“About to take off. You need anything before I go?”
“No, baby. And thank you again for holding your mama down. I know sometimes we’re tasked to do things that we might not like or agree with, but we put our personal feelings aside for the good of the family.”
“Absolutely, Ma. All for the family.” It was a mantra Shadow had known since he was a tot. “I’m about to call an Uber and start making moves.”
“No, your daddy clocks that Uber account and I don’t want him to know where you’re going.” Maureen walked to the board on the wall where several sets of car keys hung. She inspected two sets before settling on the keys to her Mercedes.
Surprised, Shadow caught the keys his mother threw him. She never let anyone drive her car. “You must want to see Millie bad if you’re letting me take your whip.”
“It’s important that we show a unified front tonight. I need all Kings on deck. Just make sure you’re careful out there.”
“I’m gonna link up with Fresh and Pain. They’ll hold me down.” Shadow started for the door but paused as he reached the threshold. “What if I can’t find her?”
“You will. Of all my children, you’re the only one who never disappoints.”
CHAPTER 6
Forty minutes after her second romp, Lolli was showered, dressed, and riding in the back of her black Navigator across the George Washington Bridge into New Jersey. She wasn’t in a rush so the traffic didn’t bother her. Besides, the person she was visiting had no idea she was coming. As she lounged across the leather seats, she deftly twisted a blunt of some shit she had forgotten the name of. Whatever it was, it smelled like flowers. She lit it and inhaled, holding the smoke in her lungs for a time before exhaling.
When she looked up at the rearview mirror, she noticed Nefertiti watching her. When their eyes met, Nefertiti looked sharply away. Lolli ignored her. Nefertiti didn’t like when Lolli smoked in the car, especially when they were riding dirty. The bodyguard had a concealed carry permit so they couldn’t get into any real trouble, but who wanted the headache of getting stopped and searched? Still, Lolli needed to get blazed. She had a lot on her mind and it was necessary to sort some things out before reaching their destination.
Lolli was about to pull a bold and possibly ill-advised move, depending on who you asked. But she didn’t have a choice. Things were unfolding faster than any of them had expected within the family and she needed to do her part to make sure they were covered. Lolli had an uncanny knack for identifying potential threats and neutralizing them before they manifested. Her father affectionately called her his “edge.”
By the time Lolli tossed what was left of the blunt out the window, they were rolling through Ridgefield Park. It was more of a village than an actual city. Driving through the town center, Lolli took in the shops and an old-style movie theater. The layout reminded her of the backdrop of a Stephen King novel. Nefertiti steered them through the town with
the familiarity of someone who had been there before. (Which she had. As a rule of thumb, Lolli’s shadow always scouted their destinations when venturing into what could be considered enemy territory. This wasn’t to say that the person they were meeting was an enemy, but she hadn’t yet determined them to be a friend.)
Most of the driveways were still covered in snow from the blizzard that had dumped on the tristate a few days prior. In one of the yards, Lolli saw a family building a snowman. The husband and wife playfully tossed snow at each other before coating their children with sheets of powder. The kids ran in circles, giggling and brushing snow off their noses. Lolli was struck by a faint hint of sadness. She was a solitary soul who preferred her own company, but there were times when she became incredibly lonely. Despite her best intentions, she craved a home and family of her own. Yet there was no time for such stability. Her duty to her father’s cause superseded her own needs.
Contrary to what most people thought, it wasn’t easy being the only biological daughter of Chance King. Being the lone female in the house other than her mother meant she had to work twice as hard to prove that she was just as good at handling family business as her brothers. By tradition, the oldest male heir usually ascended to the head of the family—a sexist, stupid rule, if you asked Lolli. Her father was a great and just king, but what would happen when he was removed from the throne?
Chapman was Chance’s older brother and the least qualified to lead, but the rule of succession had almost placed the crown on his head, which would’ve been a disaster. Had it not been for her grandfather, Edward, bending the rule to put Chance in power, Chapman would’ve surely run their family business into the ground. Now Ghost was next in line. Her big brother was solid and a good man at heart, but he was a better general than king. He excelled at war. Even when there weren’t problems, he’d find a way to create one before long. The only other swinging dick on the King family tree was Shadow. Although she loved her baby brother, crowning him would’ve been nearly as poor a choice as crowning Chapman. Shadow had the looks, the charisma, and the pedigree, but he lacked the heart it took to do what would be asked of him as the next king. He was sheltered, immature, and selfish. A good king had to know how to put the needs of his subjects before his own. Shadow didn’t fit the bill.
