The Reluctant King: Book 1: The Book of Shadow

by K'wan

  “Give me a break, Vinnie,” Dickey said, taking a step back. “I was just having a little fun with the king.”

  “If you invested as much energy into the business as you did fucking off and looking for a good time, your dad would’ve been able to officially retire by now,” Vincent spat. He motioned for Chance to join him.

  With a smile on his face, Chance bumped past Dickey and moved into the apartment. Vincent hesitated for a moment to give Dickey and his crew warning looks before stepping into the apartment and slamming the door.

  “I’m sorry about that, Chance,” Vincent said, locking the door behind them once they were both inside.

  Chance patted him on the shoulder. “No need to apologize, Vinnie. I know better than most the ignorance of youth.” Lowering his voice, he continued, “I have to say that this sit-down was unexpected. Anything I need to be concerned about?” Chance and Vincent went back even further than he and Rocco. They had run in the same circles as kids and broken some of the same laws.

  “All I can tell you is that you weren’t called here to die,” Vincent told him. “Anything besides that is between you and Rocco.” This answer did little to reassure Chance.

  They found Rocco in the living room, hunched over a chessboard. Thick cigar smoke wafted from the burning stogie in the ashtray, crowning his white head. He must’ve sensed Chance’s presence because he raised a finger, motioning for the king to give him a minute. His meaty hand touched the tip of the black bishop, but then he paused. After a moment, he decided to move his knight instead. He sat back to admire his work before turning his attention to his visitor.

  “You still play, Chance?” Rocco asked in a voice that had grown harsh from decades of smoking. He motioned for Chance to take a seat across from him.

  “Every day in the streets, but not so much on the board anymore,” Chance replied, sitting down in the wooden chair.

  “Shame, because you were pretty good.”

  Chance picked up the white king and studied it. “I had an amazing teacher.” He had long understood the basics of the game, but it was Rocco who’d taught him how to really play. They used to sit in front of his house in Queens for hours, drinking red wine and playing chess. But those days were over; they were different men now. After a moment of silence, Chance asked, “So, why the summons?”

  “You of all people should know that I don’t trust telephones.”

  “Must be something heavy if you needed to speak to me face-to-face.”

  “The weight of this conversation will depend on you,” Rocco said, looking at Chance with menacing blue eyes. Those eyes were once so full of life, but now all they held was death.

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Rocco.”

  “Then let me clarify.” Rocco folded his thick hands on the chessboard. “Some of our friends are concerned about this move you’re about to make.”

  “C’mon, Rocco, it isn’t like I just sprang this on you. You guys have all known for months. Having me 100 percent vested in politics and away from the bullshit completely can only be good for the monarchy.”

  Rocco shrugged his broad shoulders. “Maybe, maybe not. See, having one of our own rubbing elbows with politicians means that we all share in the perks that come with it. Once you leave the table, who is to say that you won’t take your politician friends with you? After all, if you are no longer a part of the monarchy, then you’ll have no obligation to it.”

  And there it was. Rocco had called Chance in not for himself, but to address the concerns of some of the other lords. This made Chance angry. Even before the monarchy, he had never been the puppet at the end of any puppeteer’s strings.

  “Respectfully, I started the monarchy. It was my plan and my influence that brought it together.”

  “Right on both counts. You were the man with the plan and the connections that brought everyone to the table, but it was the lords of the monarchy who made sure everyone stayed there,” Rocco said. “Chance, I know your heart. You’ve always been a good and fair king, which is why I’ve never had a problem with you sitting at the head of the table. If you recall, I was one of your most passionate supporters and the one who personally placed that crown on your head. Now, some of my boys weren’t happy with it, but it was what it was. I left you to the headaches that came with the crown and was content to sit back and reap the benefits.”

  “And that will continue, even when I’m gone. Ghost ascends to the throne.”

  “I love Ghost, but I think he’s better suited as a general, not a king. There are some who fear his temper will lead the monarchy to ruin. Aside from that, Ghost doesn’t have your reach. He hasn’t cultivated the relationships that you have over the years.”

  “I can walk him through it until he’s ready to lead on his own,” Chance said.

  “That arrangement would be fine by me, but unfortunately there are others who aren’t as keen on such a plan. People are talking, Chance.”

  “And what are they saying, Rocco?”

  “That maybe this was all part of your plan—to have your cake and eat it too, if you will. You still get to tap the resources of the monarchy through your proxy, but get to denounce us if things take a bad turn.”

  “And what do you believe?”

  Rocco thought on the question before answering. “I believe that you are a man who sees something he wants and goes after it. The only problem is when you’re so locked in on what’s in front of you, sometimes you miss what’s at your back.”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Relax, Chancellor. I’m not your enemy. In fact, you may find that I’m one of the few friends you have left when it’s all said and done. Old friends, that is. As far as I’m told, you’re making quite a few new ones.”

  Chance was caught off guard by this statement. Rocco must have known about his meeting with Paul Schulman. Although he had suspected as much from Dickey’s smart comment in the hallway, this was still cause for concern. If Rocco knew about the meeting, did he also know about the nature of it? What Chance and Paul had agreed to wouldn’t hurt Rocco directly, but the fallout would be felt by the whole monarchy. Chance opened his mouth, ready to spin a tale for Rocco, but the mobster waved him silent.

  “Chance, before you say something that changes how I feel about you, let me say this: I don’t care who you do business with or what gods they worship. So long as your backdoor deals don’t affect the bottom line of my family and the monarchy continues to thrive, it makes no difference to me. I can’t say the same for some of our other constituents. The moves that you think you’re making quietly are being heard, and sometimes when a message is received through a third party, it can be misconstrued by the recipients of these messages. Things can sometimes look like what they might not be.”

  “What is it that you’re trying to say here?” Chance asked.

  Rocco looked around him, a suspicious glint in his eye. It was only the two of them in the room, but you could never be sure who was listening. Rocco was paranoid like that, which was how he had managed to avoid growing old in prison like some of his associates. “I got love for you, Chance. You’ve always done right by me, so I’m telling you this as a friend and I should hope that what I’m about to say never leaves this room.”

  Chance nodded.

  “You aren’t the only one who the winds will be blowing for when you make this move. Some people are not fond of change. You’re looking out for your own best interests, so you can’t fault others for wanting to do the same.”

  “Somebody planning to move against me?” Chance asked.

  “Nobody is stupid enough to move against you, so long as I call you my friend.”

  “And so if I shift to politics, we’ll no longer be friends?”

  “Chancellor, our relationship has always been built on who you are, not the imaginary crown you wear,” Rocco said with a half smile. “Unfortunately, I’m getting on in years. I’m not long for this game or this world. I’m the head of this f
amily, but in my old age, my words don’t carry the same weight they once did. This has become a young man’s game and we old-timers are only as valuable as what we bring to the table.” He reached across the table and moved the black rook to take the white bishop, putting the black king into checkmate. “Once we have nothing more for the table, it has nothing more for us.” He tipped over the black king on the chessboard.

  Chance peered at the toppled piece. The old man’s warning was clear. Chance had never expected the transition away from the streets to be an easy one. He was in too deep and too much hinged on him maintaining his seat at the table. Part of him wanted to call it off and continue to dance between both worlds, but he had come too far to turn back. The higher up he moved in government, the more thoroughly he’d be vetted, which could not only bring him down but the entire monarchy as well. Making a clean break would be best for all, especially his family. He was doing all of this to protect everyone. The monarchy may not have seen it now, but in time they would. In the event that they didn’t, Chance would have to execute his contingency plan, and God be with whoever fell at the wrong end of that sword.

  “As always, I appreciate your counsel, Rocco,” Chance said. “I’ve got a few things that I need to take care of before I get ready for tonight. Will I be seeing you later at the dinner?”

  “Sadly, this is a meal I’ll have to miss. My gout has been giv ing me trouble.” Rocco pointed to an ice pack wrapped around his foot that Chance hadn’t noticed. “You understand, don’t you?”

  “Unfortunately, I understand all too well,” Chance said with a heavy voice. “Thank you for being such a good friend to me over the years.” He kissed the old man on both cheeks and made his exit.

  CHAPTER 14

  Shadow sat on the living room couch of his old apartment, as high as a jaybird. Pain had rolled up three bombers of some shit he had scored in Washington Heights. It smelled like cow dung when he lit it, but it was some of the most potent weed Shadow had ever smoked. He made a mental note to have Pain show him where he copped it so he could grab some for his school friends. Those white boys wouldn’t be ready for that Heights fire!

  Being back in his old apartment always felt weird. He could remember living there, but since his family moved out, the specific memories had started to fade. Even when he made these occasional visits, he felt out of place. It was small and cramped. Although there were three bedrooms, it hardly seemed big enough to accommodate his parents and siblings. The walls were a drab eggshell color and the ceiling was white stucco. The old gray carpet that once lined every inch of the house had been stripped to the bare brown baseboards. The floor tiles looked like they were coming up in some places, but no one cared enough to have someone come in and lay the tiles back down properly. After all, the apartment had become more of a symbol than a domicile.

  Fresh slumped on a beanbag chair next to the window, sweating like a runaway slave. He had chugged one whole bottle of Cisco and made it halfway through the second before it all started kicking in. He’d spent a half hour in the bathroom, where Shadow assumed he was throwing up, before staggering out into the living room and collapsing onto the beanbag.

  Though Pain was trying to pretend that he was good, Shadow could tell that he was feeling it too. For all the shit Pain talked about not rocking with the Cisco, Fresh convinced his ass to have a small cup of it. Pain could smoke with the best of them, but he had a very low tolerance for alcohol. He sat at the kitchen table trying to juggle two kitchen knives, almost cutting himself twice. Shadow wanted to tell him to chill out before he hurt himself, but there was something about the juggling that made him giggle, so he kept watching.

  Suddenly, the doorknob rattled and Shadow shot up from his slump. The sound of a key sliding into the lock made Shadow blink in slow realization. Very few people had keys to this apartment. His parents wouldn’t be caught dead back in the neighborhood and Ghost never came by. Not even the building manager had a key, or at least he wasn’t supposed to. What if he’d gone behind the Kings’ backs and made one?

  Before Shadow could shake the fog of his inebriation, Pain was at the front door, knives in hands. Shadow eventually pulled himself to his feet and joined his friend. Pain was crouched military style, waiting to pounce on the intruder. Shadow opened his mouth to say something, but Pain raised his hand and silenced him. He was in combat mode and the best thing Shadow could do was to stay out of the way. Shadow’s heart raced as the door creaked open and a man he didn’t recognize stepped in. He was a rough-looking cat who wore his pants hanging off his ass and an oversized hoodie. Clutched in his arm was a brown paper bag. He was speaking to someone else bringing up his rear. Shadow’s palms pooled with sweat as he waited for Pain to give the signal to strike. Once the man was fully inside the apartment, Pain made his move; with a fluid speed he pounced, catching the intruder by surprise. Pain hit him with a right cross, causing him to drop his paper bag and shatter whatever was inside it. Pain pinned the intruder to the wall, placing the knife against his throat. Shadow was about to move in on the second figure that had stepped into the apartment when he heard a familiar voice.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Millie said, looking back and forth between Pain and her shocked little brother.

  Shadow found himself momentarily speechless. It had been awhile since he had seen Millie and she had lost a considerable amount of weight, so much so that the skinny jeans she wore looked baggy. There was a hungry look in her eyes and her once thick, rich hair was now thin and brittle. Shadow’s heart broke seeing one of the two proud queens his mother raised reduced to such a state.

  “That’s a question I should ask you,” Shadow said when he finally found his voice. “How did you get a key to the apartment?”

  “Our mother gave me the key in case of an emergency, in case I ever found myself in need of a place to lay my head,” Millie said.

  “Lay our head, huh?” Shadow cut his eyes at the man Pain held against the wall. “That include bringing random hypes up in here?”

  “Man, I ain’t no hype!” the man protested. “Millie, who is these little niggas? Tell them to turn me loose!”

  “They ain’t nobody, Milton,” Millie said. “Turn him loose, Pain.”

  Pain continued to hold the man, casting a worried glance at Shadow.

  “Percy,” Millie said, calling Pain by his given name, “why are you looking at my brother when I’m the one talking to you?” She used to babysit Pain when his mother went missing for days at a time, so she expected her word to carry weight. She folded her arms and waited. It wasn’t until Shadow gave him the nod that Pain released the man named Milton. “Ain’t this a bitch?” Millie went on, grinning. “I used to wipe your ass and now you acting like I’m some stranger. Since when did I have to start asking you to do things twice?”

  “It ain’t personal, Millie,” Pain told her. He lowered his eyes when he passed her.

  “I guess Daddy and Ghost ain’t the only ones with a set of flunkies,” Millie said with a snort. “What you doing here with these lowlifes anyhow? Why’s your ass not in school?”

  “Mama sent me to holla at you. It’s a family matter.” Shadow glanced at Milton, who stared sadly at the two broken forty-ounce bottles now shattered and puddled on the floor.

  “I was about to go take care of something. Can it wait?” Millie asked. She’d yet to have her wake-up hit, and her insides were starting to twist in on themselves.

  “No,” Shadow said flatly. He knew exactly what was going on with her. It hurt him to see her in this condition, but instead of showing compassion he showed cruelty.

  Millie knew that Shadow wasn’t going to let it go and she didn’t feel like fighting with him. The quicker she heard him out the quicker she could be rid of him and get back to the business of her wake-up fix. “Milton, sweetie, give me a sec to take care of this. I’ll meet you in front of your building in like ten minutes.”

  “You must think I’m stupid,” Milton responded. “You al
ready spent my money to buy your blast. I take my eyes off you and you’re probably going to give me the slip before I can get what’s owed.”

  “Why don’t you relax, homie?” Shadow said. “As soon as I’m done talking to my sister you can link back up and smoke as much crack as you want.”

  “Shorty, you need to watch where you casting them stones,” Milton countered. “I don’t smoke crack, but I did pay to get my dick sucked.”

  “What?” Shadow blurted out before swinging on Milton. Much to his surprise, his sister’s companion fought back. Milton managed to land a nice blow on Shadow’s chin, forcing him to stagger backward. Without thinking, Shadow pulled his mother’s gun from his pocket and aimed it at the guy. “I should blow your fucking brains out for putting your hands on me!”

  “Shadow, chill the fuck out,” Pain said from behind him. “You shoot this nigga and you’re gonna put your whole family at risk.”

  Shadow glared at Milton for a few ticks longer. Enraged that an inferior human had dared to put his hands on him in front of his friends and sister, Shadow didn’t want to let this go. His pride was more wounded than his chin, and he felt his finger tightening on the trigger. All it would take was a split second and Milton would be out of there—but so would Shadow; there was no way he’d get away with it. Finally, he lowered the gun. “You’re right.” He handed the derringer to Pain. “But he still gotta get this work.” Shadow pulled his new brass knuckles from his pocket and slipped them over his fingers.

  He pummeled Milton, tearing into him with a ferocity that Pain hadn’t really seen before. Milton screamed so loud that he spooked Fresh’s drunk ass from his slumber. Every time Shadow hit the poor guy, you could hear something break. Pain had gone to battle against dudes with Shadow at his side before, so he knew that the prince could get busy, but that was only when forced. This was something different—it almost felt like a hate crime. Clearly, Shadow was getting something off his chest, and Pain intended to let him.