The Reluctant King: Book 1: The Book of Shadow

by K'wan

  “Sorry to bother you, Cuz, but I figured you’d wanna get this news hot off the presses. That little problem we had ain’t a problem no more.”

  “Good. The young boy came around and handled his business like I told you he would. See, you worried about nothing. All he needed was a little motivation to get on his job.”

  “I still don’t know the details of what happened,” Monster said, “but it’s been confirmed that the strip is one man shorter as of this evening.”

  “One less bitch we gotta worry about,” Ghost said, refer encing his favorite N.W.A. song. “A’ight, get with me when you find out the details.”

  “Wait a second. One more thing I need to run by you. I spoke to the Lone Ranger.” The name was code for a cop who Ghost had on payroll. He wasn’t an agent of the King family; he answered directly to Ghost.

  “And?” Ghost said. Monster stayed silent. “Speak, nigga!”

  “This ain’t really a conversation I want to have on the phone, but fuck it. You remember that thing I was asking you about? The problem that Uncle Chance needed solved?”

  “What about it?” said Ghost.

  “Well, as it turns out, the mess wasn’t totally cleaned up. Word is there was a witness who can identify the shooter.”

  Ghost experienced a sinking feeling, but he kept his thoughts to himself and played it cool. “And why are you telling me this?”

  “C’mon, Cuz. We’ve known each other all our lives. You really gonna play this game with me?” Ghost didn’t respond, so Monster continued: “I’m telling you this because when they asked the witness who the killer was, he said, ‘A ghost.’”

  Ghost almost dropped his phone. Impossible! The word exploded in Ghost’s head. He had been extremely careful with the hit he’d made on Freddy. There hadn’t been anyone on the street, and even if there had been, Ghost would’ve sent them along for the ride. This was an unforeseen loose end that would need to be tied up ASAP. “Do we know who this witness is?”

  “Yeah, some kid who happened to be sitting by his living room window when it went down. He saw the whole thing.”

  “He’s gotta go,” Ghost responded.

  “Did you hear me when I said that the witness is a kid?”

  “Whenever there’s a choice between us and them, it’s always gonna be them,” Ghost told his cousin.

  “That’s some cold shit, Ghost. I’ve done a lot of dirt for you and this family, and I never once questioned an order, but this …” Monster removed the phone from his ear and bit hard on his bottom lip. As a parent himself, was he really down with killing a kid? “Look, this is something we need to talk about face-to-face.”

  “What the fuck is there to talk about?” Ghost said. “I told you what needs to be done. All for the family, right?”

  Monster didn’t say anything.

  “You hear me?” Ghost barked.

  “Yeah, I hear you,” Monster muttered before ending the call.

  As soon as Monster hung up, Ghost realized he had handled the situation wrong. For as long as he and Monster had run together, Monster had followed Ghost’s lead like a faithful puppy. Monster was Uncle Colt’s only son, but hadn’t inherited his charisma and leadership qualities. What Monster lacked in initiative, though, he made up for in execution. The boy loved to get his hands dirty and had been one of Ghost’s, and his father’s, most important chess pieces. Monster had unquestioningly done Ghost’s bidding for so long that sometimes the oldest King child took his cousin’s services for granted. But the fact that Monster seemed to be questioning Ghost’s recent decisions suggested that he was losing sway over his brutish cousin. Ghost knew that if he wanted to soothe the savage beast, it would take a show of good faith. Nothing small either. It would have to be something that would convince Monster that Ghost was at least trying to level the playing field between them, even if he really wasn’t. The neighborhood they’d just taken from Malice might be sufficient. Of course, Judah wouldn’t be happy about it, since he had put in the work and to him it was promised, but Ghost needed Monster more than he needed Judah. He would find some other bone to throw the upstart. It was a cruddy move, but at the end of the day, Monster was family and Judah wasn’t.

  Chance tapped a fork against his champagne glass. Once he was sure that everyone in the banquet hall was focused on him, the king stood.

  “Family,” Chance began, “is a word that is thrown around far too loosely, but I use it here tonight because that is how I view each and every one of you in this room. Whether we share blood or not, we are all family, bound by deeds, love, and honor. As you all know, we have gathered here tonight for two very special occasions. The first, and most important, is my wife’s birthday. I won’t embarrass her by telling you her age—”

  “You better not,” Maureen chimed in. Laughter echoed around the room.

  Chance smiled and touched his wife’s shoulder. “What I will tell you is that it is a milestone birthday. When I met Maureen I was a young man still trying to find my way in the world. You, baby, became my guiding light. All these years you’ve given me encouragement when I was uncertain, counseled me through very tough decisions, and been my strength at times when I felt like I wasn’t powerful enough. I can say with certainty that I would not be where I am today without you. For this, I am thankful.” He bent over and kissed her on the lips. “Happy birthday to the love of my life. I wish you many more.”

  The room filled with cheers, claps, and birthday shouts. Maureen couldn’t help but blush at the bountiful love and adoration. She truly felt like a queen.

  “The second thing we’re here to celebrate,” Chance continued, “is the reason you’re all scraping those forks over those five-thousand-dollar plates. Don’t worry, though. The cash you so graciously parted with ain’t going into my pockets. Your generosity has made you all official contributors to my new campaign. I am pleased to officially announce that I will be running for the office of Brooklyn borough president!”

  The banquet hall erupted in applause, but Chance quickly motioned for them to quiet down.

  “This is only the beginning,” he said. “I won’t bore you with the details, but just know that I have no plans to stop with the office of borough president. When it’s all said and done, one of your own will walk the halls of our nation’s capital. I do this for you, my family. All for the family.” He raised his glass.

  “For the family!” cheered the room.

  It was a joyous moment, but short-lived. The room’s attention turned from Chance to the front door, where a disturbance had suddenly erupted. It looked like security was trying to stop a party crasher from getting in. She was a haggard-looking woman, wearing a ball gown two sizes too big. Whoever this was would surely be on the receiving end of her bad decision to try and crash an event reserved for the Kings. But upon closer inspection, those in the know realized that the party crasher was, in fact, a King.

  Maureen jetted over to the front door. She elbowed her way through the growing crowd of onlookers, moving so fast that she stepped on her dress and ripped it, but she didn’t care. One of her babies was in trouble.

  “Get your damn hands off me!” Millie yelped, struggling against the security guards, who were attempting to wrangle her out of the hall and back onto the street.

  “Ma’am, we’re going to need you to relax before this situation turns ugly,” an overzealous security guard said, pulling out a can of pepper spray and holding it out at the irate young woman.

  “If you don’t get your hands off my daughter, I promise that you’ll lose them!” Maureen shouted at the man with the pepper spray.

  “Um … we’re sorry,” the guard said, letting go of Millie.

  “We didn’t know.”

  “I tried to tell you stupid muthafuckas that I belong here,” Millie snorted. She shambled up to her mother and flashed a yellowing smile. “I made it, Mama. I made it to your party.”

  “Yes, you did, baby. You did.” Maureen fought back tears as she embraced h
er wayward daughter. The girl smelled like a combination of booze, cigarettes, and funk, but Maureen didn’t care. She was just glad to have her child back in her arms.

  CHAPTER 22

  Back at the King table, a storm brewed. The more Shadow drank the darker his mood was becoming. Just what Millie warned him against had finally happened—someone snatched his blinders. Thanks to Uncle Chapman, he was finally able to see his family for what they really were.

  He cast a glance over at Josette, who hadn’t really looked at him since the incident outside. She was still pissed, and rightfully so. When Shadow saw Voodoo, all he could think about was sparing her feelings. He hadn’t given much thought to how Josette would feel about being ditched during sex. He had tried to offer a weak apology but she was less than receptive, assuring him without making eye contact that it was her fault and not his. She’d had a lapse in judgment, she said. Her last words to him were, “I thought you were something that you’re not.” Shadow wasn’t sure how to interpret that remark, especially in light of what he had just learned from Chapman.

  At the head of the King table, Chance sat beside Orlando, sharing a drink and speaking in hushed tones. Lolli was there next to them in the seat her mother had vacated. She was likely eavesdropping. From the way Chance grinned, whatever he and Orlando were discussing must’ve been special. But little did the king know that Shadow had planted a fly in the ointment. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol, or the story that his uncle had disclosed, but he was having a hard time looking at his father. Chancellor King had always been one of Shadow’s heroes, a knight in shining armor. Growing up, Shadow was taught that everyone except family was fair game if it inched him closer to his goals. Apparently, though, that rule only applied to those not wearing the crown. When you were the king, you could bend the rules however you saw fit.

  “Why you over here glaring at Daddy like you’re ready to kill him?” Ghost said, appearing behind Shadow. He placed a hand on his little brother’s shoulder.

  “I’m good,” Shadow grumbled, moving so that Ghost’s hand fell away.

  Ghost saw that the Zaza women were pretending not to watch Shadow and him. This pissed Ghost off; family business wasn’t everybody’s business. “Let me talk to you for a second,” he said, scooping Shadow under the arm and dragging him from his chair. Ghost found a quiet corner of the hall and shoved his brother into it. “You got something you wanna get off your chest?”

  “I told you, I’m good,” Shadow said, looking everywhere except at Ghost.

  “You’re not good. I see you been sitting over here with your face all sour and shit, like somebody did something to you. What happened? Shit didn’t go as planned between you and shorty?”

  “Went better than it did with you and her sister,” Shadow muttered.

  “What the fuck did you just say?” Ghost grabbed Shadow by his jacket.

  “I know everything, Ghost.” The liquor had loosened his lips. “I know what ruined Daddy and Orlando’s friendship the first time. That shit was all your fault!”

  Ghost was stunned. The one time he failed the family was a secret only a few knew. Someone had obviously clued Shadow in, and from the way Chapman was staring at them from across the room, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who it had been. He would deal with his uncle in due time, but right now he had to come to an understanding with his brother. “Shadow, you don’t know the whole story. Let’s take a walk and I’ll—”

  “You’ll what? Tell me how this time it’ll be different? That this is my responsibly to the family? You might’ve been willing to let Daddy pawn you off like property to close a business deal, but not me! I am the master of my own destiny. I will choose my own fate!” Shadow stormed away from Ghost.

  “What the hell was that all about?” Lolli asked, approaching Ghost.

  “Our fucking uncle is stirring the pot, per usual,” Ghost fumed. “I’m about to break this nigga’s jaw! Maybe that’ll help him keep that big-ass mouth closed.”

  “Ghost, don’t start no shit at Mom’s party,” Lolli called out, chasing after him as he cut across the room toward Chapman.

  “I’m going to invite him outside. If he’s a man, he’ll step out. If he’s a bitch, I’m gonna drop him where he stands.”

  Ghost’s anger had reached new heights. Chapman was a troublemaker. He always had been, but for the most part he kept his shenanigans to spreading harmless gossip. But blowing up Ghost’s secret to Shadow crossed a line. Ghost had plans to beat Chapman within an inch of his life for what he’d done. Unfortunately, that plan would have to wait. As soon as the brother and sister reached the table, all hell broke loose.

  “Chance, one thing about you that hasn’t changed over the years is that you still throw the best parties!” Orlando Zaza shouted, slapping Chance on the back before downing yet another glass of champagne. He had consumed at least two bottles on his own, and was obviously feeling good.

  “This ain’t shit,” Chance boasted. “Wait until you attend the shindig I’m going to throw once I’m elected borough president! Ah, Orlando. This will be good for the family—both of our families.”

  “Right—all for the family. Is that how you say it?”

  “Yes, and I can’t wait to welcome you into ours.” Chance raised his glass, but Orlando didn’t.

  “I’m afraid mine is empty.”

  “We can’t have that!” Chance glanced around and snapped his fingers; a waiter rushed over to fill Orlando’s glass. “Leave the bottle,” Chance said before dismissing the waiter with a flick of his wrist.

  “Must be nice,” Orlando said, sipping from his glass, “being able to snap your fingers and people just jump to fulfill whatever your heart desires.”

  “I’d be lying if I told you that it didn’t feel good to be the king,” Chance responded. “Speaking of desires of the heart, I took care of that little problem you were having.”

  Chance was referring to the show of good faith that Orlando had demanded as compensation for getting back into business with him. A situation had popped up that Orlando was having trouble taking care of on his own. A rival Cuban organization had been challenging Orlando’s operation in New York and New Jersey by cutting into his gun businesses. The rival, much like Orlando, was connected to some heavyweight old-timers back home, so killing him outright could’ve started a war. This was where Chance came in. Instead of whacking Orlando’s rival, he had him locked up. This was part of the play he had used to leverage Paul Schulman. Some of Chance’s boys had paid a visit to the snitch Ira’s family, making it clear that if Ira didn’t point the finger at the rival instead of Paul, then the king of Five Points would exterminate his whole family. Ira was instructed to recant the story he’d originally told the feds. Chance would then have the right palms greased to make sure that the prosecutor on the case would accept the bone Chance had tossed him. So long as the prosecutor obtained his conviction, no one would care too much whether the accused was Hebrew or brown. So long as someone went to jail.

  “That was quick,” Orlando said with a smile.

  “When the king speaks, the people listen,” Chance capped.

  “I’m thankful, but I have to ask: considering our history, who is to say that you won’t back out of our arrangement? It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve left me holding my dick.”

  “I thought you might feel a bit skeptical, which is why I had my people put a rush on all this. By the time we’re finished with dessert, the feds should be kicking your problem’s door down. He might not be dead, but it’ll be at least ten to fifteen years before you have to worry about him again. By then, I’ll be in DC and you and your wife will be retired on a beach somewhere while our kids are running our businesses. All that remains now is for you to keep up your end of the bargain and arrange the meeting between me and your folks in Cuba.”

  “About that …” Orlando said. “I don’t think it’s going to happen.”

  “What? Why? Did they get cold feet?” Chan
ce was stunned by Orlando’s nonchalance. The terms had been agreed to weeks ago and everything should have been set.

  “No, I’m sure they’d have been more than willing to sit down with you if I had actually made the call,” Orlando said, “which I didn’t.”

  Chance’s entire body flooded with rage. “Is this some kind of joke?”

  Orlando grinned and slowly shook his head.

  “We had a deal,” Chance said, punching the table.

  “Yes, we did. It’s just too bad that I changed my mind. Look, Chance, you’re spending so much time rubbing elbows with white people and it’s obviously made you take your finger off the pulse of the streets. In our world, all a man has is his word, and once you break that you ain’t worth shit. Some years ago, you and your son gave me your word and you broke it. You not only embarrassed me but also my daughter and the Zaza name. It took my wife and me months to try and help my baby piece her heart back together.”

  “C’mon with this bullshit, Orlando. That shit was foul, I’ve said as much already and apologized I don’t know how many times. I even offered you compensation in the way of my own flesh and blood.”

  “Yes, young Sean,” Orlando said, nodding. “In the short time I’ve gotten to know him, watch how he moves, I can say that Shadow is a far better man than you or your other piece-of-shit son, Ghost. I see in Sean the potential to truly be great, but he’ll likely never reach his full potential so long as his father is pulling the strings of his life. Long story short, if you thought for a minute I would compromise my dignity, or the dignity of my family, and get back into business with the Kings, then obviously the rumors about you going soft in the head and no longer being fit to lead the monarchy have some truth to them.”