“All right. And is garlic bread okay with you, sir?”
“Definitely.”
“Well, I’ll go put these orders in for you.”
“Thank you,” the pair said in unison.
Tron took the initiative and poured them both glasses of wine. He took a small gulp of his and mentally commended Kleigh on the selection. In truth, he wasn’t really a drinker, but he had to admit the Moscato was good.
“What you want isn’t on the menu, is that right, Mr. Sexy Chunky Peanut Butter?” Kleigh asked as she sipped from her glass.
“You’re correct,” Tron said, giving her a devilish grin and placing his wine back on the table. “I could really go for a burger right now.”
“Oh, you asshole,” Kleigh laughed and tried to swat his hand, but he caught it.
He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them tenderly, so tenderly that she closed her eyes and let out a happy sigh. It was then that he physically saw her let her guard down. Maybe it was the wine, but either way, he could see the progress that he was making. She’d told him a little about her brother, but no more than he could find out on the streets. He needed to dig deeper.
“Earlier today, did you really go inside and get something?”
“Yeah, I did, actually. A slice of red velvet cake.”
“And?”
“It’s just like you said . . . I might get addicted.” Tron kissed her fingers again, and she shivered. “Now tell me one thing, why is it that you wouldn’t want me to get attached to you?”
“I already told you. My brother—”
“I’m not worried about your brother.”
“That’s because you haven’t met him.”
“There isn’t a nigga far or near that puts fear in my heart. So, I’m gon’ ask you again. Why wouldn’t you want me to get attached to you?”
“Because an attachment to me would be too complicated. I’ve never had a boyfriend before.”
“Really?”
“Deadass. I told you, nobody comes close to me. There have been a few that tried to fuck me on the low, but I’m not going for that.”
“So, you’re a virgin?”
“Yes,” Kleigh said and laughed at his baffled expression. “What? That’s so hard to believe? I mean, of course, I’ve done stuff with guys, but I’ve never gone all the way.”
“Aaah . . . I get it.”
“What do you get, Tron?”
“It’s not an attachment from me that concerns you. It’s an attachment to me that you’re worried about.”
“What? No.” Kleigh made a face and smacked her lips. “Now you’re just twisting my words.”
“I see your game,” Tron winked and chuckled. “It’s too early to think so far ahead anyways. Let’s just enjoy each other’s company tonight and let the cards fall where they may. If you don’t want to see me again after this, that’s fine.”
“Okay,” she said and gave him a wondrous look. “You have an old soul. I can tell by the way you speak.”
“Just earlier you said I was a street nigga.”
“I mean, you’re that too. It’s a good balance. I like it.”
“Enough to stay the night with me?”
“Ummm . . .”
“I don’t want nothing you don’t wanna give,” Tron told her truthfully. “I’m just thinking about how fast this dinner is gon’ be over, and I don’t know if I’ll be ready to say goodbye.”
After a few moments of thought, Kleigh finally nodded her head.
“Okay,” she said.
By then, their food had finally come, and Kleigh still had an uncertain expression on her face, but then she stared at him, and he saw it instantly wash away. Tron grabbed his fork and fed her a bite of his food. Her eyes lit up in delight, and he fed her another. His plan had gone smoothly. As he fed her one last bite, he definitely did believe that he’d taken a deep dive into her mind. But what he didn’t plan on was her doing the same to him. By the time Tron finished eating, he had lost track of how many times he had laughed. He couldn’t help it. Being in her presence made the corners of his mouth touch his ears like his face was naturally arranged like that. He was confused by how at ease he was with her, and he shouldn’t have enjoyed himself the way that he had, knowing that he was using her. But his eyes were still on the prize, and he’d rather his work be enjoyable than the opposite. He took care of the tab and left their waitress a hundred-dollar tip before they left. On the way to his car, Kleigh grabbed Tron by the arm to stop him.
“What’s good, shorty?” Tron looked down at her and asked.
Instead of answering, Kleigh stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him on his lips. Hers were succulent, soft, and he could taste the pasta sauce on her tongue. He didn’t mind it, actually. He placed his hands on her small waist and kissed her back. When she finally pulled away, she looked fondly up into his eyes.
“Sorry, I had to get that out of the way.”
“And why is that?”
“Because there wouldn’t even be a point in seeing you again if your kisses didn’t give me butterflies.”
“And what’s the verdict?” Tron asked, but Kleigh just winked.
“Ask me out again, and we’ll see,” she said and walked to the passenger side of the car.
“Yeah, yeah,” Tron said, rubbing his chin and watching her butt switch as she walked. “You know a nigga got them magic lips; stop playing. And you better not touch that door handle.”
“You the controlling type?” Kleigh said, turning back to face him with her hand on her hip.
“Never that,” Tron said, walking up and opening the door for her. “But I’m a real man, and I was raised old school. No woman I’m with will ever touch a door in my presence. You feel me? Just ’cause y’all worship city girls doesn’t mean there aren’t any gentlemen left in the world.”
“I don’t worship city girls. I’m a Summer Walker-type of bitch,” Kleigh said, getting in the car.
“Is that right? I guess that means you need some—” Tron shut the door before he finished his sentence and grinned at the shocked look on her face. When he got in the car, he started it and posed another question. “So where to, shorty? You going back to the jailhouse or you gon’ roll with me?”
“Where are you going?”
“Most likely, just back to the crib. We can Netflix and chill,” he said, and when he saw Kleigh’s eyebrow shoot up to the hood of the car, he chuckled. “Yo, you’re bugging. Nah, like really Netflix and chill.”
“Umm, I’m not sure,” Kleigh said, reaching into her bag and pulling out her phone.
She must have powered it down while they were at dinner because she had to turn it on. As soon as the screen lit up, Tron could see a slew of messages come through.
“Shit,” he heard her say under her breath.
“What, your man looking for you?”
“No. My brother,” she said, sending a quick text and powering her device off again. “I don’t even feel like dealing with him right now. That nigga thinks he’s my daddy for real.”
“So, I take that as you’re rolling with me?”
“I guess I am,” she said with a smile. “Stop by a store, though. I need to get some clothes for tomorrow.”
“Bet,” Tron said and pulled out of the parking garage.
Chapter 7
“If you don’t have the information you need to make
wise choices, find someone who does.”
—Lori Hill
Klax
No, I’m not home, but I’m sure you know that because I’m sure you’re there or have been there. I’m fine. Turning my phone back off, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.
Klax read his sister’s text message to himself before clenching his teeth and putting his phone back in his pocket. He’d been trying to reach her all day after finding out that the theater he was close to closing on had gotten blown up. They were running the story on every news station, and he felt as if someone had blasted him in the chest w
ith a shotgun. Tron had aimed for something important to him, so Klax had no clue what dude would go after next.
As soon as Klax found out about the theater, he rushed over to the bakery to check on Kleigh, but Jasmine had told him that she’d left for the day already. He then went to her home, but no luck there either. When he called his mother and asked if she’d seen her and she said she hadn’t, Klax began to panic. He had his people tearing up the city looking for her, but now that she had finally responded, he could call them off. He could hear the attitude in her voice through the text and knew that she wasn’t in any imminent danger. He wanted to be annoyed at her disappearing act, but he was too busy being relieved. She was probably hiding out with Bahli, which would explain why she didn’t answer his phone call either.
“You good, boss?” Dame’s voice said, invading his thoughts. Klax nodded his head and glanced over in the passenger seat in his 2019 milky-white Range Rover. The two men were parked outside of a run-down complex in Harlem people watching and plotting their next move.
“Cancel the search for my sister. But I still don’t want none of these little niggas to sleep until I have a body at my feet. I’m done moving blindly in my own city. Also, tighten up security on that drop coming in on Saturday and double up at the mayor’s event. I don’t need this nigga fucking up both ends of my business.”
“No doubt,” Dame said and then gave Klax a concerned look. “You ain’t answer me though, G. You good?”
“You know I ain’t good,” Klax answered, facing the front of the vehicle and staring out the window. “That nigga touched down and instantly started wrecking shit. I still don’t know how he managed to one up me in my own shit, but this? This was the last straw. It’s war, and you let everybody know that shit.”
“A’ight, I’m about to hit the block,” Dame said and opened the vehicle’s door. “I’ll let you know what the word is as soon as I have something.”
After he shut the door, Klax watched him walk up the street and disappear. It was a tense time for him, and his patience was completely gone at that point. Usually levelheaded, Klax could feel the beast inside of him thrashing around, trying to get free. He couldn’t help but think how hard he had worked, only for it to all blow up in his face, literally. He took the deepest breath he could before putting the Range Rover in drive. As he drove, his thoughts fell on his old man.
Coming up, all Klax wanted to be was a man equal to his father. Back in the day, Kameron’s corner boys could flip twenty-five kilos in a week in Harlem. Nobody dared to run down on him on his own turf, and the respect that people had for him made Klax admire his father. However, when he learned that it wasn’t respect that gave Kameron his power and that instead, it was fear, his perception changed.
Although Klax and Kleigh attended private schools, Klax could never seem to stay away from what was considered “the wrong side of town.” His father hated when he left their home in the Bronx and made his way to Harlem, so he had to sneak to do so. He made a few of his lifelong connections, including Dame, by skipping school to run the streets. That was when he grew to love them and the people in them. He’d never seen a drug addict in real life until one day he saw one of his dad’s corner thugs sell an eight ball in person. The addict’s name was Ana Pearl, and she was only in her late twenties but looked twice her age. He remembered that she didn’t have the money to pay for the drugs, so the corner boy made her suck his dick in broad daylight to cover the charges. When she was done demeaning herself, Klax watched her smoke the drugs up and pass out on the side of an apartment complex in broad daylight. It was then that he stopped seeing his father as a hero and instead, saw him as a villain. He knew even then at 16 that you couldn’t force someone out of a habit, but you could help guide them. All his father wanted to do was poison their community and not spend a dollar of the profits to help rebuild it.
Since Klax was younger, he thought Harlem was the most beautiful part of New York. When he turned 18, Kameron told him that there would be a time where he would run it. All Klax could think about was what he would do differently when the torch was passed down to him. What he should have thought about was how his father had gotten to be the head honcho in the first place, but he never cared. That same carelessness was what had caused the current problems unfolding before him. If he had known about his father’s moves, then Klax would have gotten Tron’s head blown back a long time ago. However, since it was too late, he figured he’d do the next best thing. Get as much information about Tron as he could. And there was only one person who he knew could answer some of his questions.
It was a little after ten at night when he pulled into the curved driveway of his childhood home. The light in the front room was still on, and he knew his mom, Dorian Turner, was still awake. He used his key to open the door and heard the alarm system start to go off but deactivate in seconds.
“I meant to turn that off,” Dorian said, walking down a long hallway from the kitchen that led to the front door. “I had a feeling that you were gon’ make your way over here. Come hug your mama.”
“What’s up, Mama?” Klax said and hugged his mom’s short frame.
Dorian was a gorgeous woman in her late forties, but if she were to tell you her age, you’d think she was lying. Not only was she fit, but there wasn’t a wrinkle in sight on her smooth, light brown skin. She kept the dark brown hair on her head dyed to hide the grays and stayed on a strict vegan diet. Kleigh was the spitting image of her.
“Come on back. I’m in the kitchen.” She waved for him to follow her back to where she came from. “I made some gumbo if you want a bowl before I put it away.”
“You already know I’ma smash that,” Klax said, feeling himself instantly get hungry.
Dorian was the best cook he knew, and he didn’t just think that because she was his mother. Kleigh may have had the magic touch when it came to desserts, but his mother had a special kind of gift in the kitchen. She put a piece of her soul in all of her food, and Klax honestly couldn’t think of anything she made that he didn’t eat.
“How’d you know I was gon’ end up over here?” he asked curiously when they reached the large kitchen.
He noticed that his mother had redecorated slightly since the last time he was here a few weeks before. The glass dining room table had been replaced with a wooden one, and the wall décor was all different. The light blue walls had been painted a pastel peach. He smirked to himself recalling that was the color she wanted it to be before the original white walls were painted blue. However, Kameron refused to have an almost-pink kitchen. The floors were still wooden, but the island in the middle of the kitchen had been expanded so more people could be seated at it. Klax was happy to see that although his mom was still hiding out in the house, she was keeping herself busy. He sat down in one of the stools at the island and watched his mother hook up a bowl of seafood gumbo for him.
“I watched the news earlier, and I’m glad I did because I wasn’t going to,” she said bustling around the kitchen. “I’d just done my Pilates and was about to lie down when the news anchor said there was an explosion. And when I saw it was that theater you had your sights on, I felt my spirit crumble just like that building! I knew I would see you sometime today. You wanna talk about it?”
“Not really,” Klax said dryly.
“Mmm,” Dorian noted and set his hot bowl of gumbo in front of him. “You might not want to talk about it, but I can see the rage boiling under the surface just by looking at you. Don’t go out there and do nothing stupid, boy, you hear me? There are a lot of other places you can put your museum. Shit, you can buy some land and build it from the ground up if you want to. This was probably some stupid-ass kids.”
“It wasn’t.”
“If not, then who?”
“I was actually hoping you could help me out with that,” Klax said and saw a look of bewilderment overcome her.
“Me?”
“Yeah. Quiet as kept, the shit that happened at the theater ain’
t the only thing that’s been going on around here. I had to let Big Tony go.”
“Big Tony?” Dorian’s eyes grew wide. “He worked for your father for years!”
“Yeah, well, I guess tenure doesn’t bring loyalty, now, does it? He tried to sell out and get me caught up. I had to do what I had to do.”
“Well, good riddance then. Enough snakes are crawling around. You don’t need them in your own camp.”
“I agree,” Klax said, taking a big bite of the hot gumbo. When he finished chewing, he glanced up at her. “Does the name Sunny Walker ring a bell?”
At the sound of the name, Dorian looked as if she’d just seen a ghost. She stopped wiping the counter and furrowed her brow at Klax. Her mouth opened, but then closed instantly like she didn’t know what to say. When no words found her, she just closed her eyes and shook her head.
“What’s that for? You know him, don’t you?”
“I should have known this day would come,” she said with a sigh and a small shoulder shrug. “Yes, I know him. Back in the day, everybody knew Sunny Walker.”
“Because he was the kingpin of Harlem?”
“Yes,” Dorian nodded. “He was, anyway. But that was before your daddy took over.”
“You mean before he murdered Sunny’s wife and daughter?”
“Don’t you sit there and act like you don’t know the laws of the streets. Your father tried to be reasonable with Sunny about a partnership. But Sunny wanted no part in the new Harlem your father was trying to build. And, well, after that, your father took matters into his own hands. If it’s not given to you, you take it.”
“Mama, I love you, but the moves of your dead husband are coming to bite me in the dick. I need to know everything you know about Sunny Walker and his son.”
“His son?” Dorian asked. “You think . . . You think Sunny Walker’s son is behind all of this?”
“Last night at the club, I got a little visit from a man claiming to be Sunny Walker’s son. He said he was coming back for his rightful place on the throne.”
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