The Last Kings

by C. N. Phillips

  Ray nodded, agreeing with what he said. He didn’t trust them either. He’d heard crazy things about the Italian cartel. They were up there with the Dominicans—definitely not anyone to be on any beef level with.

  “However, I feel that you’re the man who can get the job done. What I’m saying, Ray, is I need you,” Vinny said. “None of that homo shit. This is strictly business. I need my work in Detroit, and I need you to push it.”

  Damn, these muhfuckas been following me? Ray thought to himself making a mental note to double security.

  Ray sat taking everything Vinny was saying in, not trying to look too eager. But inside, he couldn’t believe his luck.

  “You want me to just be down with this proposition?” Ray asked. “I don’t know you muhfuckas from a can of paint, so tell me what’s really good?”

  “I understand your caution, Ray. We randomly contacted you, and now we’re offering you the place of a king. I can see where thoughts get skeptical, but I wouldn’t even waste my time sitting here talking to you if this wasn’t a serious business inquiry. I need a yes or no answer in thirty seconds, or I will take you back to your uncle’s shop and we can pretend this conversation never happened . . . Well, until I send the choppers for you.”

  Damn, these muhfuckas really aren’t playing around, Ray thought. To be real they had me with that king shit.

  “A’ight, how much are we talking, and when are we doing this?” Ray asked.

  “Smart man!” Vinny smiled, pleased with Ray’s answer.

  Eduardo and Stanley smirked at each other from the front seat, and Ray saw it, but he kept his cool. He knew he was playing ball in their field.

  “I’m going to give you a little product first, just to see how fast you can get it off, and when you do, I’ll give you more,” Vinny explained.

  Ray listened but wasn’t with that plan at all. He already had a plan formulated, and he knew exactly what he was doing. Vinny was now just giving him a reason to go through with it instead of waiting.

  “No, fuck that,” he said shaking his head, surprising all of the passengers inside the vehicle. “If we’re going to do this, we’re doing it my way. My city, my rules. I’m a grown-ass man. Ain’t no fucking way I’m about to just let you give me any product. Off tops, I’ma buy that shit and flip it in no time. Then I’ll just re-up from there. I can’t make a profit off another man’s empire. Been there, done that. All I need from you is a team and artillery. I already have three ready to get it with me. I know once Coopa catches wind on what’s going on, it’s going to be bloodshed. But honestly, right now, this money is more important.”

  Vinny sat taken aback but was beyond impressed on how the business meeting was being flipped around on him. Ray was definitely the right pick for the job.

  “What are you saying, Ray?” Vinny asked him.

  “What I’m saying is you need me as much as I need you. Otherwise, you would have never contacted me in the first place. Instead of putting yourself in some shit by fronting me, I’ll just buy that shit and start my own operation. I’m not stupid or new to this, but you do need new blood, and that’s me. I live and breathe the hustle, and I’ll dead a muhfucka quick over my paper,” Ray told him. “I’ma need to test your product first to see if it’s even worth the hassle.”

  “Of course,” Vinny nodded. “Stanley?”

  On cue, Stanley handed Vinny a kilo of cocaine and a small pocketknife.

  “Here you go.” Vinny handed Ray the brick and sat back and watched, already knowing the value of his own product.

  Ray made a small incision in the brick and tasted a small amount. He had been in the business long enough to use that as a method to level grades of cocaine, and Vinny’s product had passed the test. He nodded his head in approval. He already saw the dollar signs flashing before his eyes, knowing he had the key to the city in his hands at that very moment.

  “All right, coo, this is what I’ma have?” He had to make sure.

  “Yes,” Vinny informed him. “How many?”

  “I’ma need thirty.”

  “Five hundred thousand,” Vinny said instantly and watched to see if Ray would back down due to the price.

  “Done.” Ray didn’t even flinch. “I’ll give you a drop-off spot, and we’ll make the exchange.”

  Vinny smiled one last time, knowing then that he’d made a longtime business partner. He reached out and shook Ray’s hand again.

  “All right, I’m going to set you up with this shit personally,” Vinny said.

  He liked how Ray conducted business. He was going to make his money regardless, and now he had a permanent buyer. Vinny was very pleased. They made plans to meet at a low-key spot Ray knew the next day.

  “The shit here is garbage. People pay good money for the shit they smoke, inject, or snort. Why not give them their money’s worth?” Vinny said to Ray as they pulled back in front of Uncle Rojer’s shop. “Starting today, Ray, you are a king, not a street hustler. You’re better than Coopa. Starting today, Detroit is yours. I have two people perfect for this . . . Don’t worry, we did background checks on them, so loyalty is not a worry. You sure you can trust your people?”

  “I’m one hundred percent sure,” Ray told him, getting out of the car.

  “All right . . . I’ll see you soon, kid,” Vinny said, and with that, he pulled off.

  Ray pulled his cell phone out watching the black Mercedes round the corner and leave his sights. After phoning Sadie, Mocha, and Tyler informing them to meet him at his home, Ray decided to take a walk through his hood. He changed from suit and tie to a casual Diamond muscle shirt and a pair of cargo shorts. His bulletproof vest snug on his torso ensured that no bullet would penetrate, and the .45 on his hip dared a nigga to put his vest to use. He left his Escalade parked in the parking lot of the car shop and made his way on foot toward his Grandma Rae’s house.

  Putting his Wolf Grey 5s to use, he worked his way through the neighborhood he grew up in. Everything in it was a familiar sight. The houses were run-down; some yards cut and some weren’t. Kids were running around like they didn’t have any sense. Ray saw the swift moves of his young boys hitting the block. Fiends were everywhere begging for hits, but Ray didn’t feed their hunger. None of the product they snorted could be tied back to him in any way. They were too messy. The last thing he needed was for one of them to get caught up with the law and start snitching. The people his boys served were high rollers who had an addiction to the candy Ray provided.

  The feds had moved in and out of his block, even sent a couple of undercover cops to scope Ray’s small operation. But when their bodies were found dismembered, that never happened again. Ray didn’t move any product on his block, so any warrant to search it was deemed pointless. Out of all of the people Coopa put on, Ray’s operation was the cleanest. Ray had a list of clients he served, and they bought in bulk, not by the hit. They always knew where one of Ray’s workers would be posted on the block to place their order. A place and time would then be designated for a drop-off and pickup. First, of course, the money would have to be wired into an account that was opened and closed that same day. Ray had work moving all through Detroit, and he not only fed his block, but everyone else’s too. He kept the block cleansed of Coopa’s work. It was smart, but the real reason was out of respect for Grandma Rae.

  People all around the way showed him love as he passed them. The daylight was completely gone, only to be replaced by streetlights. Ray saw the streets come alive. It was rare to see him walking anywhere, so many of the neighborhood rats tried to get his attention by swishing quickly in front of him or saying “Hi,” flirtatiously. Ray only gave head nods and kept it moving while he tried to gather his thoughts.

  As he walked and ignored the basic hoes cooing his name, he came across two of the most thorough youngins he had pushing for him. D and Amann were posted on a street corner engaged in a conversation with two young women. They were bad, and both had round bottoms, but when Ray was spotted, the two w
omen were immediately dismissed. D and Amann were both in 501 Levis and retro Js. Their jewelry glistened with diamonds like the hood celebrities they were, and they both gave Ray a respectful smile.

  “My mans!” D shook Ray’s hand. “The fuck you doin’ out here walkin’, fam? We got Beamers and shit for all’at!”

  Ray grinned because he was right. Bosses didn’t walk, but in that instant, he needed the air to clear his mind, and a walk was what he needed.

  “I’m chillin’, fam,” was Ray’s simple response.

  D and Amann were brothers. Not by blood, but it couldn’t make them any closer. Through thick and thin, they had each other’s back, and their loyalty in each other was what embedded Ray’s trust in them. Out of every nigga Ray had working, the two of them put in the most work and brought home the most paper. They could hustle in their sleep, but the way they moved they never slept. At the age of twenty-two, they were also well tenured.

  “What’s been good, though?” Ray asked stopping to talk for a minute.

  “Shit, shit,” Amann answered. “Working.”

  “Yea, niggas been putting in overtime it seems, like just to fuckin’ eat,” D rubbed his hands together. “Upping prices.”

  “I see,” Ray nodded, already knowing.

  He knew all that was going on, especially after Coopa’s trap was almost robbed. Coopa was messing up, and Ray had to pick up his slack. Unsatisfied clients made for angry workers, and that was bad for business. Everybody was just trying to eat, and that was something Ray understood. Coopa wasn’t as in tune with the streets as he once was when he was living in them. He was selfish, and as long as his table was filled, he didn’t care about anybody else’s. Ray respected him because it was his work that had indeed put him on, but he also knew that once a person lost touch with the streets, there was no coming back from that.

  “Aye, let me rap to you two about some shit real quick,” Ray said making a decision then to put them on with his operations. D and Amann knew automatically by his tone that they needed to listen to what was about to be said. “You two niggas put in work. Loyalty is something that’s hard to come by in this day and age. When you got it, you don’t just throw it away. So I’d like to personally welcome you to The Last Kings. It’s time to go to work.”

  Chapter 8

  Words couldn’t express my happiness when Ray called Mocha and I to meet him at his house to discuss a business opportunity. His beautiful five-bedroom home was ducked off in the suburbs of Detroit. He sat us down in his living room as soon as Tyler joined us. He then asked me how serious I was about taking my first steps into the game. He told us that he’d just come across a major move that he couldn’t pass. Tyler was already down with the plan, and I was too. Mocha was the one who sat unsure. It made me a little agitated just because the idea of a drug cartel was her idea. The fact that she was trying to back out didn’t sit right with me. What he was asking was dangerous I knew, but that was life. I knew how to hustle, how to break it down, and how to make my money quadruple. My life had been pledged to the game at an early age, and I was ready to carry out my destiny.

  “You can’t make people respect you,” Ray told Mocha, and he pulled out two black boxes from underneath his long coffee table. “That’s why you make them fear you. As long as you make your money and watch your back, it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks of you.”

  He slid the boxes across the wooden table toward Mocha and me. Lifting the top of mine, my breath was short and sweet when I saw the inhabitants. Inside the box was a shiny .48-caliber pistol and two rounds sat next to it. I hesitated, but I picked it up and held it firmly in my hand. It felt natural.

  “R-Ray, I don’t know,” Mocha said, staring at her handgun. “This is crazy.”

  “Yea, Ray,” I had to agree with her. “You ready to go to war with Coopa?”

  Ray nodded his head.

  “The difference between Coopa and me is that I’m not going to have you two on any corner making drops. That’s sloppy and out of date. This is going to be a business; I don’t have time to be hot in these streets with the feds on my ass.”

  “What happened to loyalty, Ray?” Mocha asked him.

  “Fuck that, Mocha,” Tyler countered. “I’ve been tellin’ my boy to strike out on his own for years now. Coopa don’t know the first thing about being loyal, shorty.”

  “Right,” I agreed with Tyler, eyeing my pistol. “Ray, if you got us, you know I’m down to ride for whatever.”

  “Say, I knew you would be down to ride,” Ray smiled at me fondly. “What do you say, Mocha? How about we make this a family affair?”

  “You say that shit like you’re asking me to join a club or something! This is serious; we’re talking about a drug cartel! As in a drug ring . . . as in some C. N. Phelps shit!”

  “Phillips,” I corrected.

  “Yes, her! This is crazy, Say . . . crazy!” Mocha stared at her pistol.

  “Mocha, what do you want to be in life?” I asked catching her off guard by the question.

  “What? I don’t know . . . Somebody who makes a lot of money. I don’t know!”

  “A boss?” Ray referenced.

  “A boss,” I concurred.

  Mocha sighed and eyed all three of us before she finally nodded her head submissively.

  “Yes, a boss.”

  “OK,” I grabbed her hand. “Let’s get this shit then; for the love of money, right?”

  Our eyes met for a moment, seeming to connect us, making us one. Holding silent conversations was something Sadie and I did when we were younger, when she first came to stay with us. The words I spoke to her with my eyes were sincere. I was telling her that everything would be OK. Finally, Mocha blinked, breaking eye contact, and I knew she was in.

  “OK, I don’t even give a fuck!” She rolled her eyes. “I’m just worried about getting trigger-happy with this muhfucka!” Mocha aimed her pistol at Ray’s white living-room wall and mouthed “Pow.”

  I laughed, happy that she finally was down with the program.

  “Coo,” Ray nodded his approval, eyeing everyone in the room. “We’re a team now, so the only thing left to do is to make shit happen.”

  We did just that. Ray and Tyler already knew the rules of the game, and I was a little tenured in it as well. Ray took us under his wing, and in a matter of weeks, Mocha and I knew everything about the dope game a man could teach us.

  “Everything else just comes with the territory,” Ray told us.

  Ray must have had some more change saved up from when he was working with Coopa because he went all out and bought a slew of Laundromats, an apartment complex, an Italian restaurant called Amore, a hair salon named Taste, and a strip club called Lace. Within months, Ray’s work started spreading quickly like the flu bug through Detroit. No one knew who the carrier was, but everyone seemed to be feeling it. The team Ray set us up with was the truth. Besides the four of us, there were four other additions to our fam. They were obedient and ready to ride out whenever or wherever. When it came to distributing and collecting, they always delivered.

  I’d become fond of the little Latina chick named Adrianna. She was a feisty little thing. She always pulled in double her weight and being in the big leagues didn’t scare her. She was older than me by a few years, but she knew that I was the boss. She always made sure the money was counted right before it was delivered to Ray or me.

  It was my idea to start a VIP club for our top wholesale clients. They were the only ones eligible to be members after a thorough background check. Ray thought the idea was brilliant and decided to add a kick to it. The buyers could test our product while getting pleasured. The spot was underground, literally, located in the basement of the Italian restaurant Ray had purchased, and if you didn’t know it was there already, then you would never know.

  Tyler came through with his connect with the feds. He broke him off a little paper here and there to be kept informed on the moves of the police. That way, we would always have some ty
pe of heads-up. After that, it was a wrap. It was clear that we were slowly but surely taking the city over, and it was a beautiful thing. Ray had stopped all involvement with Coopa completely, and I knew that wasn’t going to end well, but I trusted his judgment. Coopa wasn’t the only one anymore with a team of riders. If anything popped off, there would definitely be a war scene in the streets of Detroit. Ray made sure that Mocha and I were never alone wherever we went and told us to always stay strapped.

  “Niggas hate seeing a come up,” he kept saying, and I knew he was referring to Coopa.

  After Mocha and I dropped out of school, we began living with Ray in his home since it was big enough. Five rooms, four bedrooms, two kitchens, a theatre in the basement, and Ray even had the audacity to have a fountain in his entryway. Those were just some of the highlights. Ray had really outdone himself with his house, and I was proud that he’d come that far. One night when just he and I were home, I brought it to his attention while we counted stacks of money to maybe let Coopa in on the action, keep the love in the city. I didn’t see the point in going to war in your own hometown. The money would be doubled and be kept flowing. It made sense to me. However, Ray disagreed.

  “Nah, Say. Coopa isn’t the type to just shake hands and step down from the throne. Detroit is his in his eyes. Unless somebody knocks him down from his seat, he ain’t going nowhere,” he said putting me on game.

  “So, what are we going to do when he jumps?” I asked him. “’Cause you know that nigga is going to jump.”

  “You know what’s going to happen, Say.” Ray touched the steel he kept on his waist. “That nigga is either going to bow down or lay down. My city ain’t going down just because a boss can’t stay a boss. Fuck that. It’s all about this here.”

  He grabbed a stack of hundreds and waved them in the air.

  “A nigga will do crazy things for this, Sadie. Just remember not to be that crazy,” Ray told me and sighed. “Coopa is going to try to stop this. I’m on the rise, and his position as kingpin is being threatened. But I know him; he’s not going to come for me directly. I know his style. He’s going to come for what I hold dearest to my heart. You and Grandma Rae.”