Back in Detroit, Brother Rasul was fighting with his own demons. Stunned at the strange turn of events, he was still dealing with the fact he was forced to ship both Kenya, whom he’d fallen in love with, and London’s bodies home to be buried next to their parents, grandmother, and uncle. Finding Kenya bleeding to death in the rear of his truck was almost more than he could stand. As he held her in his arms begging for Allah to spare her life, Kenya slipped away. Always a strong man, physically and mentally, he felt broken. There was nothing he could do to change the consequences his friend had endured. He knew he should have followed what Kenya wanted to do and stay back in Detroit, but he had to force the issue and her hand. Overcome with his faith, he did what he felt was best. Not only for him, but who he would soon find out was an orphaned Li’l Stone as well. After receiving the devastating news that Storm had been murdered at the hands of “the family,” Brother Rasul wanted to man up. It was in his nature to do so. A man of convictions, he knew the baby deserved a chance at having a normal life and childhood.
Wanting to be a part of something that was good and pure he changed his life and how he moved. Trying his best to hide his devastation over Kenya’s untimely demise, he and Fatima patched up their differences. After a short time of him proving to her that she was his true soul mate they got married so that they could give their newly adopted son, Kalif, aka Li’l Stone, a proper upbringing. He paid an enormous fee to have documents falsified to make them his legal parents. Eerily, each and every day the small baby grew, Brother Rasul could see something cold in the boy’s eyes. It was something that sent chills down his spine.
Fatima was nurturing as any mother could be to a child, but the boy was having none of it. Even though Kalif was only six months old, it seemed like he’d been here before. Ironically, he was the spitting image of Storm down to the way his nose was shaped and the expression he had when pissed. There was some sort of sinister glare in his eyes when he would drink his bottle or get his diaper changed. Even his shit smelled like trouble. The couple prayed five times a day and twice nightly he’d grow up to be nothing like his drug-dealing father who would get paid by any means needed to pop off. But unfortunately, they knew this infant’s gangster-minded bloodline ran deep. Brother Rasul, Fatima and, strange as it may seem, even little Kalif knew he was destined to one day grow up to be a kingpin of Detroit.
Only time would tell.
The End
Tick, Tick, Boom! Page 20
