The Last Kings

by C. N. Phillips

  What Ray was telling me made sense. I then understood the reason why he made Mocha and me stroll the city with five soldiers each.

  “I got niggas at her house around the clock,” Ray informed me, seeing the worry on my face.

  “She’s OK with that?” I asked, astounded knowing Grandma Rae hated random muhfuckas in her home.

  Ray grinned at me through the freshly twisted dreadlocks dangling freely in front of his face.

  “Hell nah, Say. You know she would flip if she knew them niggas were there!”

  I grinned too, but then became serious again.

  “Ray, I just want you to know I can handle myself,” I told my cousin. It was rare when I got him to myself, and I wanted to reassure him that letting me into his cartel wasn’t a bad idea. “This is nothing to me. I’m not scared of a fuckin’ Coopa or any nigga who might come for me. If you got me, I got you, remember?”

  Ray smiled and nodded his head.

  “I feel you, Say, and I know you can handle yourself. I’ma just make it so you never have to.” He stood up and started dumping the money in bags, preparing to make a drop to re-up. “Where’s Mocha?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “She made a trip to visit a friend in Atlanta. She’ll be back in a few days,” I told him, not letting it show on my face that I missed my best friend.

  I knew Mocha was from Atlanta, so I didn’t mind her taking a few trips to her hometown. It was rare when we weren’t together, especially since we both dropped out of school to tend to business. I knew I wasn’t going to be anybody’s executive but the dope man’s, so I didn’t want to waste any more of my time. Ray was upset with the decision, but we stood firm by it.

  “You been coo?” Ray studied me where he stood.

  “Yea, I’ve just been kicking it hard with Adrianna. That’s my bitch. She’s a fucking thug, dude,” I said, thinking fondly of my new friend.

  “Yea, she’s ride or die. I had to have her in on this shit. Loyalty is all I need. When Mocha gets back, we’re havin’ a meeting. There’s some other shit I need to bring to the table. It’s been a few months now, and the money is rolling in. I need to know where all y’all muhfuckas’ heads are at, you feel me?”

  “All right, I’ma hit that bitch up and tell her to get her ass home ASAP,” I told him and pulled out my cell phone.

  Chapter 9

  Ray set up a meeting with everyone as soon as Mocha got back in the city. We sat eight deep around the large table in his dining room. All but two of the chairs were filled, and everybody who was supposed to be there was in attendance. It was a still night in Detroit. The weather had finally begun to warm as we said good-bye to the winter season. The moon shone in on us all through the glass patio door beside the table. Tyler sat on Ray’s right side, while I sat on the left. Mocha sat beside me, and Adrianna beside her. Devynn was a young, beautiful woman with smooth chocolate skin and long, soft, natural curls sitting atop of her head. She packed two chrome pistols on each thigh and getting on her bad side would get two clips a home inside your skull. I honestly thought I would have a problem with her, but surprisingly, she proved me wrong.

  Next to her sat D, short for Deion. He was big and swole, and he didn’t need his burner to rock anyone to sleep. His fists were lethal weapons themselves. His Jamaican heritage gave him a very distinct look. His dreads were short and thick, and his eyes were too close together, but he knew how to hustle and aim a gun, so he was good for the team. He was good people, and his loyalty to Ray spoke volumes.

  Last but not least was Amann. He had a smooth baby face but harbored a ruthless mentality. Since his girlfriend and two-year-old daughter were killed in the cross fire of a robbery, he thought with the 9-mm pistol that he had strapped to his waist. He’d lost everything, so spilling blood was like kicking over a bucket of water to him. Amann was someone a person would send in to get the job done. His heart was buried with the body of his baby girl. The only things he believed in were loyalty and getting money. Anybody who got between him and that would surely get put to rest. I was in a room full of cold-blooded killers, the type of people who put bullets in folks like shots from the doctor, and I had never felt more at home.

  Ray stood up from where he sat at the head of the table and eyed each and every person around him, even Tyler.

  “Hello, ladies and gentlemen,” he started with a smirk. “If you’re wondering why you’re here, then you need to get up and out of my fuckin’ house.”

  No one moved; everyone knew what was up, and Ray nodded his head.

  “That must mean you know why you’re here. You know who you are.” Ray started to walk slowly around the rectangular table. We all glanced around, becoming familiar with each other’s faces.

  We all knew of each other, but it was the first time we’d all been together in one room. We all had been doing our solo thing and getting off the product Ray purchased from his mysterious connect in time to re-up. I nodded my head at everyone around the table in greeting.

  “This,” Ray raised his hands motioning to everyone at the table, “is the team. The goal is to get this dirty money quick and flip it even faster. I would also like to say congratulations. You’ve proved to me that you all are about your paper, and it was you who built the foundation of this operation. I’m impressed . . . I’ve never seen a team of only eight people flip work so fast. The profit I made off those bricks was more than even I expected. We’re taking over the game. This is the beginning of a new wave.

  I nodded my head, feeling empowered by Ray’s words.

  “I grew up in these streets watching the hustlers before me slang dope on the corners. Watching their come up and because of their flashiness and cockiness, I saw their demise too. That’s not going to be us . . . Kings live forever! This?” Ray pointed his two pointer fingers toward the ground. “This is the whole operation, here in this room. If I eat, we all eat. Period.”

  The room remained silent, and I appreciated the respect they all had for Ray. He stood over us as a leader . . . the head of The Last Kings. It was his time, and I think everyone at that table knew it.

  Fuck Coopa, I thought.

  My allegiance lay with Ray. We were his soldiers, his shooters, and the people who would stand by his side. We could be out in the murderous streets of Detroit slanging tiny bags of coke to the neighborhood crackheads doing anything to support their habit; instead, we were a part of something much bigger. The name “Last Kings,” fit perfectly as I stared at everyone around the table. There was something that we all had in common; we were all orphans. Sadly, we were all each other had, no matter how short of a time we’d known each other.

  “All these businesses I’m running are cleaning this dirty money, so I don’t ever want to see any of you moving on the streets.” Ray’s voice held not a hint of humor, letting us all know he was serious. “That’s the old way of the hustle, and moving that way could jeopardize this whole operation. If I find any of you doing that, I will dead you where you stand, no matter who you are. Also, Coopa is expecting that shit. None of my soldiers are going to get caught slipping. So I’m about to put it to you all like this . . .”

  Ray went back to his seat at the head of the table, and upon sitting down, he reached under the table and pulled out seven folders. I felt Mocha lean in slightly, and I saw the anticipation on her face.

  “Seven kings around me and six businesses. It’s been two months, and like I said, each of you have proven to me that you can pull in your own work. Now, it’s time for some real work. Each of you will manage one of my businesses.”

  My mind began reeling. Ray was a genius. The cartel would be run behind our businesses, meaning there would be no dirty money. The first two months of our hustle had been building up our clientele, and thanks to my idea for the club, all of their names were listed. As long as we could deliver, they weren’t going anywhere. Ray’s connect had the best product around town, and it was going to make us rich. I couldn’t help the grin that formed on my face. I wo
ndered how long Ray had been planning it, because what he had pitched was flawless.

  “My man Ty here has the fed activities in check, so if he calls, you better answer your phones on the first ring. No questions asked. Sadie?” Ray turned his attention to me.

  “Yes?” I inquired taking a sip of the champagne before me.

  “Amore is yours,” he told me, and I was slightly taken aback.

  Everyone sitting at the table stared at me. We all knew that not only was Amore the Italian restaurant Ray owned, but it was the heart of the whole operation. I thought that he would make Tyler the head of it, and by the expression on Tyler’s face, I knew our minds were thinking the same thing. Our eyes met for a moment before I averted them back to Ray.

  “Ray, are you sure about that?” Tyler asked him skeptically.

  It kind of set me off slightly, like he didn’t think I could do it or something.

  “You forget she’s the reason why the restaurant is a big part of this whole deal,” Ray told Tyler while smiling confidently at me. “I’m positive, and plus, she’ll have Mocha right there beside her making sure that everything is running smoothly.”

  Tyler backed off, but I could tell he wasn’t very happy with Ray’s decision. I, on the other hand, felt honored that Ray had put me in such a position of power. It proved that he had trust in me beyond measure and my respect for him rose. He then continued on to appoint everyone else their station. Tyler would head the chain of Laundromats, Devynn was put head of the hair salon, D was set up to be the landlord of the apartment buildings, Adrianna would manage the nightclub Lace, and Amann was entrusted with the convenience store Ray had recently purchased. Ray slid a folder in front of each of us. I opened mine and noticed that it contained the blueprints of Amore with several escape routes.

  “You will all learn the blueprints of the buildings. A boss is never caught slipping in his own place of business. There are undetectable stash spots in every building. Learn them. There are also artillery rooms in every building. Keep them stocked,” Ray told us. “This is the last movement Detroit will ever see.”

  “The Last Kings,” I said and raised my glass feeling that it was the right time to do so.

  “The Last Kings!” they all said in unison and raised their glasses as well.

  Before we could drink our toast, I noticed a red dot slowly moving to the center of Mocha’s forehead. Instinct set in, and I pushed her out of her chair. No sooner had she hit the floor did the glass patio door shatter and a bullet hit the wall behind where she had been sitting. After that first bullet, it seemed as though hundreds more followed. Everyone was caught off guard as we saw at least fifteen hooded masked figures in all-black appear in the backyard shooting rogue bullets into Ray’s home.

  “Get down!” Tyler yelled, and we all ducked trying to dodge bullets.

  Devynn and Adrianna pulled out their burners in a matter of seconds and began shooting expertly at the advancing enemy. I watched as their bullets caught their marks, making the victims’ heads snap back before pulling out my own pistol. Before I could get my first shot off, Ray grabbed my arm, preventing me from standing to my feet.

  “Get to the garage!” Ray ordered Mocha and me as he popped two of the men trying to get through the patio door.

  I snatched my arm from him.

  “Fuck that!” I stared at Mocha who was frozen on the ground in shock and fear, not knowing what to do. “It’s OK,” I whispered to her.

  Just as the words left my mouth I heard noise coming from the living room and looked up in time to see a hooded figure aiming for our two bodies on the ground. I quickly pointed my gun at him and put two neat holes in his dome, making his body fall back into the three coming up from behind him. It gave Mocha and me time to stand to our feet and squeeze our triggers, killing them where they stood. What was supposed to be a simple business meeting had turned into a battlefield. There were bullets whizzing past my head left and right. God must have had my back because I didn’t even feel a graze. In their case, strength didn’t come in numbers because they were fighting a losing battle. They were sloppy, and it was obvious with their bodies piling that they hadn’t thought their plan all the way through.

  “You wanna play, huh? You wanna play, bitch!” I heard Adrianna’s rants as she clicked heartlessly on the intruders.

  “These muhfuckas is sad, yo!” Devynn actually laughed as she put five bullets in one body and reloaded taking cover behind Adrianna.

  From out of nowhere, I heard the sound of automatic rounds being let out, and I knew for sure that we were all goners. It wasn’t until I saw D and Amann toting AK-47s and finishing off the remainder of the intruders that I relaxed. Finally, the blazing stopped, and all of our guns were smoking. Ray’s house, which was usually neat and tidy, was totally destroyed and bloody. The body count of the dead totaled up to at least twenty. There was a slight groan in the air, and all of our attention averted to the ground. One of the intruders was still moving and trying to crawl away. He was closest to me so I walked up behind him placing my foot on his back. He grunted at the pain from the weight of my foot and the bullets wedged in his body caused blood to spill from the wounds. Bending down, I snatched the mask from his face and instantly recognized him as Antwan, Mocha’s old boo. I looked back at Ray, who smiled and shook his head.

  “Your mans sent you to my home to dead me?” Ray walked up to him and kicked him in his face so hard I saw a few teeth slide along the stained red carpet. “I would have you give that nigga a message for me . . . but your body in a duffle bag should do just fine.”

  Ray raised his gun slightly and put a bullet in each of Antwan’s eye sockets.

  “Bitch nigga,” Ray spat. “We have to move. I know the neighbors heard all that shit. I also know that if none of his men return to tell him that the job he sent them on is done, he’s going to send another sweep in. Get a cleaner team here in two point five, Tyler. Adrianna, take Mocha and Sadie somewhere to lay their heads for the night. The rest of you know what to do. Hit the block, find this nigga. This nigga sent these pussies to my house? It’s war.”

  Ray was barking orders before it registered in anyone’s head what had just happened. His gangster shone as he was never knocked off his A-game, no matter the situation.

  “I’m not leaving you,” I told my cousin, worried about him.

  Ray had been wrong; he thought Coopa wouldn’t try him. The scene there proved that Coopa was taking Ray’s come up to the heart and wanted him out of the game—bad. So bad that he hadn’t even thought thoroughly about his plan of action. All his shooters lay dead, their souls floating above us. If Coopa was that clouded by anger, there was no telling what his next malicious act would be. I refused to leave my cousin’s side.

  “Sadie, this isn’t something to negotiate,” Ray told me his voice slightly soft. He knew I was worried, and he hugged me, handing Adrianna a wad of hundreds. “Take my bulletproof Hummer and park it somewhere low. I’ll call you in the morning.”

  Adrianna nodded her head, knowing that protecting Mocha and I was her job.

  “Let’s go,” she instructed a little forcefully and grabbed us by the arms.

  “Ray!” I called back at him, not able to break away from Adrianna’s tight grip on my arm.

  “I’ll call in the morning,” Ray promised again.

  “Sadie, it’s going to be OK; for now, we need to listen to Ray,” Mocha told me.

  I obliged, and with one last look at my cousin’s enraged face, I followed Adrianna to refuge and out of harm’s way

  Chapter 10

  It seemed to Ray that Coopa was suddenly an invisible man. After the fiasco at Ray’s home, Coopa had doubled up on his protection. He had decoys for days and stayed at least twenty deep wherever he went. Coopa was playing it safe, especially after the bodies of the dead were delivered packed in boxes at his front door. He knew that Ray was not someone to take lightly. Something he honestly should have known from working with him for years. Coopa had
watched Ray’s rise but hadn’t paid enough attention to it because out of all of Coopa’s goons, Ray had always been the least flashy. Ray didn’t have a slew of women or baby mamas, nor was he tricking off. Coopa knew then, when it was too late, that he should have wondered what Ray was doing with all of his money. Stacking up was what he had been doing, and when Coopa caught wind of an underground movement happening in his city, he flipped. He was even more enraged when he learned through the street vine that Ray was the head of the whole operation. When he sent his goons to move in on Ray, he had underestimated the strength of Ray’s little army. He thought for sure they would be killed in the ambush, and he would just go back to running Detroit with an iron fist the next day. How wrong had he been . . . None of his men made it home to their families, and he was to blame for that. But that was the least of his worries; he only cared about his own well-being. He’d seen firsthand how Ray got down. His aim was flawless. It was the reason he wanted him on his team in the first place. Coopa knew that with a killer like Ray, he needed the extra protection, and being caught slipping would most definitely cost him his life.

  He stayed low, sending his most loyal men to handle his business. There was a big drop coming up, and he knew that his empire couldn’t risk the loss of the possible new connect. JoJo, Coopa’s new right-hand man, was sent in Coopa’s place to the Italian restaurant Amore and was expected to conduct business on Coopa’s behalf. Coopa heard that some big-time Italian man had some fantastic product. He knew if he got that in his streets, he would have what they had been crying for. Coopa wasn’t stupid; he could see his streets getting hungry. At first, he didn’t care as long as he was still on top. But it didn’t take long for niggas to turn and think they would get away with hitting licks on his trap houses. Coopa had to turn things around because he would rather drink piss than kneel at the feet of a man he put on.