The Last Kings

by C. N. Phillips

  Before Khiron could open his mouth to speak, he was interrupted by a hand being placed on his shoulder. He looked up and saw a middle-aged Italian man standing over but not looking at him.

  “That’s your cue to leave,” the Italian man said in a dismissive way. “We have actual business to conduct.”

  He studied the man’s face and felt the blood rush from his. Khiron was looking dead into the face of the man who’d ordered the hit on his father. The notorious Vinny Mancini. Anger pulsated through his veins, and his hand twitched for the gun on his waist, but when he saw one of the guards raise his eyebrow at him, he decided to chill. Instead, he stood up trying to remain professional and smirked at Ray.

  “I’ll be seeing you, Ray,” was all he said before he made his exit. “Real soon.” Bitch nigga, he thought walking away from the table.

  He passed the entourage of Italian goons the Italian man brought with him. They all gave him looks as if to say he was beneath them. The meeting didn’t go as he planned at all, but Ray was wrong. Khiron would never go somewhere without knowing about his surroundings. Khiron knew more than what he would ever let on. Ray had no idea who he was fucking with. The one thing Khiron hadn’t known was that he was working with the Italians, but now that he knew, he would be sure to tread lightly.

  Almost to the exit Khiron noticed a portrait hanging from one of the walls that caught his attention. It was of two women, and one he recognized right away. He was more than astonished to see Mocha hanging from the wall in front of him in the restaurant. The cream dress she wore brought out the mocha color of her skin, and the smile on her flawless face held a secret. How did she know Ray? Why was her photo in his restaurant? He guessed there were a few things about her that he didn’t know. The woman standing beside her had her arm linked in Mocha’s and the word beautiful didn’t do her justice. Her long hair flowed over her shoulders and her sharp brown eyes pierced the camera. Her red lips were turned in what was supposed to be a smirk. In the picture, she wore a sophisticated form-fitting red dress, and although she faced forward, he could see her ass from the front of her. There was something familiar about the girl, but Khiron knew he’d never met her. A server was passing him, and he stopped the young Italian woman before she went by.

  “Who is this?” he asked, not caring that he sounded rude. “Does she work here?”

  The woman looked at him like he was crazy and laughed.

  “Work here?” She shook her head. “That’s Sadie. She runs this place.”

  Before Khiron could say another word she was gone, leaving him to stare at the picture for a few more moments.

  “Sadie?” he said to himself and exited the restaurant.

  There was something eating away at him while he stared at the photo. Then he remembered. She’d changed, a lot, but he could never forget her face. Fury engulfed him, and he knew he had to get out of the restaurant before he left a trail of dead bodies behind him. Enraged, he pulled out his phone and dialed out once he was safe inside his vehicle.

  “What the fuck happened, Los?” he said once he heard “Hello.”

  “They all dead,” the husky voice of one of his soldiers said.

  Khiron knew that sending his men to Lace would be a suicide mission if the stories of The Last Kings preceded them. He knew it would be enough to throw Ray off of his A-game for their meeting. In the time it took Ray to pour his drink, Khiron had already scoped out the men wearing chef coats and hats going through a door that said “Authorized Personnel Only.” That would have seemed normal . . . had it not been for the fact that he scoped out the designer pants and shoes that poked out from under the chef coats. From where Khiron had been seated, he had the perfect view of the lower level.

  “But, fam, there’s something else you need to know,” Los said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Ya’ girl, Mocha, she was there. She’s one of them, fam. She was one of the muhfuckas popping our people, nigga.”

  The realization hit Khiron then—hard. It was like a punch in the face. He thought he was a good liar, keeping his business dealings away from her keen nose, but Mocha, in fact, took the cake. He was hurting in his city, while that bitch was living like a fucking queen in hers. He never once questioned the designer that forever laced her body or how she could easily afford to hop on a plane to come see him whenever. When he thought about it, out of all the bitches he’d fucked with, Mocha was the only one he didn’t have to give a stack of bills to go shopping. She carried herself like a bad bitch, but in all reality, she was a boss. She was a part of the expanding underground drug cartel that was obviously blossoming with the help of the Italians. He should have known the Italians were a factor when he realized Ray owned Amore. The Italians were the enemy, and Ray and the Italians were business partners. Ray was the enemy. Ray was the leader of The Last Kings. Mocha was a Last King . . . Mocha was the enemy. With that knowledge, Khiron also knew one other thing. He’d had the key all along; the person who would open the door to the downfall of Detroit’s underground kings.

  “A’ight,” was all Khiron said, trying to swim through his ocean of thoughts. “What’s going on now?”

  “They moved it,” Los said, referring to the money that had been at Lace.

  “Where?” he asked, but before he got an answer, he watched a Corvette pull up to the valet parking of the restaurant.

  Two men exited the vehicle, each holding a fat suitcase, and Khiron couldn’t help the smile coming to his face. He disconnected the call and gave himself a silent praise. Way before Khiron made his trip into Detroit, he sent a handful of niggas before him to watch the movements of Ray’s operation. After a few weeks of surveillance, Khiron had to admit that Ray was smooth. His operation was flawless, and he’d never seen another like it. The Last Kings was a force not many could fuck with, but still, the men Khiron sent were able to figure out when the drop-off days and times were. The point of the run-ins that he’d formulated wasn’t ever to rob Ray at that time. He knew Ray ran a handful of businesses and hitting them all would be too much work. But what Khiron did know was that with the thought of potentially getting robbed came a sense of security. Ray would want all of his money on lockdown and in one place. Seeing the Corvette pull up, Khiron knew his theory had been correct. The theory being that Ray would move all of the money to the safest place he could think of until it was ready to be placed. As a hustler himself, he knew how risky depositing large amounts of drug money in the bank was. Ray needed to clean it first. Khiron’s original plan was to conduct business and obtain a connect . . . while robbing him blind. But after the way Ray spoke to him and seeing the portrait in the restaurant, his plans had changed. A sick smile came to his face. He wasn’t going to rob Ray of the money sitting inside of Amore, but now he knew where the heart of the whole operation was located.

  It was no longer business; it was personal. Khiron was going to kill each and every one of those Italians. Since Vinny’s bullet was the one that pierced his father’s skull, he would get it the worst. Khiron’s blood raged when he thought about how that piece of shit had touched him. Only one word pumped through his brain. Revenge. He picked up his phone and called Mocha.

  “Hello?” she answered. Her voice sounded exhausted.

  “What up, bae, where you at?” Khiron asked, trying his best to keep the disgust from his voice.

  “Nothing, just watching some TV.” Khiron shook his head at how easily the lie rolled off her tongue.

  “My plane just touched down,” he lied. “Meet me at my hotel in a few hours.”

  He heard her sit up straight through the phone.

  “You’re here?” He heard a mixture of concern and excitement in her voice.

  “Yea, bae, I wanted to surprise you,” he lied again. “I tied up a few loose ends in the A and thought it was time for a little venture into my wifey’s city. See how she’s living.”

  His last words had an icy effect to them, but Mocha barely took notice.

  “OK, u
m, text me what hotel and the room number. I have some shit to handle right now but a few hours sounds like a plan.” Her voice dropped as if she didn’t want anyone around her to hear the plans she was making.

  “A’ight, ma, I’ma see you,” and with that, Khiron disconnected the call.

  His eyes stayed on the Corvette until the two men returned to the vehicle. They didn’t know it, but that night would be their last night on earth alive. It was true that Detroit was Ray’s city, and he ran it out of love instead of fear, but it was Khiron’s game, and when he was done with The Last Kings, his name would shake the bravest of hearts. He was going to wreak havoc and torture them all. He’d vowed long ago that his father’s death wouldn’t be in vain. The shit at Lace and the hair salon was nothing compared to what he had in store for all them muhfuckas. When he saw the car prepare to pull off, he made one last phone call and began to tail behind it.

  “Let the war begin.”

  Chapter 18

  “What was that about?” Vinny asked Ray once the two shook hands.

  Ray leaned back in his seat and smirked. “Business as usual,” he shrugged. “Little niggas always approaching for work but can’t even deliver.”

  Vinny stared at the man before him and chuckled at his suave. Ray was no longer the kid with potential he’d met with in the backseat of a Mercedes. He knew that investing in Ray would be good for business, but in all actuality, Ray had invested in him. Vinny was in awe at the way Ray had branched off of him. Ray was the connect to six major drug-demanding cities, so, in turn, Vinny was all of their connect. The drug demand was so high that if Vinny didn’t want to conduct business with anyone but Ray, he would never have to. The Italian drug cartel was making millions off of one operation, and that was why, in Vinny’s eyes, Ray had rightfully earned the title of a king.

  Ray asked Vinny to have a seat, but he declined.

  “Business as usual,” he said, but in so many words, he was telling Ray that he was just there to pick up and get out.

  “A’ight,” Ray said nodding his head. “It’s all here. Miami, DC, LA, Chicago, Houston, and New York. Two mil.”

  Vinny raised his eyebrow at Ray’s carelessness, but didn’t say anything. He trusted Ray’s judgment, and he also knew that Amore was the safest place for the money. He nodded to his men to go grab it and shook Ray’s hand once more before he too made his exit. That was the way Vinny was; he was never in one spot for more than twenty minutes. He also never went anywhere without an army of Italians behind him and an automatic pistol.

  Ray rubbed his facial hair and looked at the phone sitting on the table. He had no doubt in his mind that his generals would handle the little situation that took place that night, but when it came down to it, he knew he needed both his left and right hand. Something told him that the fuckery would continue, and that somebody was sending him a message. Ray was low-key glad that his two leading generals would be touching down in the morning; the horrendous scent of an upcoming war was frozen at the tip of his nose.

  Chapter 19

  After that night in the restaurant, things between Tyler and I were a little awkward, but we tried to make the best of our arrangement. We went on many tours and ventured off a lot by ourselves. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to be evil to him, although he’d broken my heart twice. I didn’t know if it was love or the simple fact that I respected his loyalty to the game. He was right, after all. Mixing business with pleasure never worked, and I knew the life span of a hustler was short. Instead of indulging in the negatives, I decided to shoot for positives with Tyler. He surprised me our last night in the beautiful place and something in the air changed between us.

  “You can’t just tell me what it is?” I asked him, pouting as I tried to keep my balance on the sand.

  “Then it wouldn’t be called a ‘surprise,’ ma,” Tyler smiled at me and grabbed ahold of my waist, assisting me with walking.

  “Well, you could have at least told me we were going to the beach,” I cut my eyes at him holding his arm lightly. “I wouldn’t have put the fuckin’ Red Bottoms on. My shoes are going to be ruined!”

  “Chill, Say, plus, you have about a hundred more pairs where those came from,” he laughed.

  Before I could say anything else smart, we came up on the most beautiful beach scene I’d ever seen in my life. It was like a movie. On the beach, overlooking the water, a single table with a white tablecloth and two chairs was set up. On the table were two plates with covers over them, two wineglasses, and a candle in the center. Around the table, rose petals were scattered and a piano—yes, a fucking piano—played soft tunes into the night.

  “Tyler,” I said breathlessly and stopped in my tracks. “Is all that . . .?”

  “For you?” He stood in front of me and grabbed my hands. “Yes. It’s our last night in paradise, and I wanted to do something special for you, ma.”

  “Like an apology?” I pressed my luck.

  “Real niggas,” he said, “don’t apologize. But they do make up for their wrongs.”

  “Like an apology,” I said matter-of-factly, and he laughed.

  “Shut up and come on.” He urged me toward the table.

  He pulled my chair out for me, and when I sat, he pushed me back in. When he joined me on the opposite side of the table, he wore a huge Kool-Aid smile.

  “What?” I asked, feeling myself blush at the way he was looking at me.

  “You look gorgeous,” was all he said.

  I rolled my eyes, not wanting to get the wrong idea again.

  “Hungry?”

  “Hell yea,” I said and felt my stomach growl. “What’s on the menu?”

  “Oh, nothing,” Tyler said smugly, lifting both of our tops off of our plates. “Just some macaroni and cheese, fried chicken, black-eyed peas, and corn bread.”

  The aroma filled my nostrils, and I was in heaven. The sight of the food made my mouth water. It looked absolutely scrumptious!

  “My favorite!” I exclaimed in shock. “How’d you know?”

  After the question was out, I realized how dumb it sounded. Tyler probably knew me as well as Ray did. It didn’t hit me until then that I barely knew anything personal about the man I thought I loved.

  “It’s not as good as Grandma Rae’s, but I tried,” he shrugged.

  It touched me that he’d gone to such great lengths to make my last night there paradise, but then I had to stop myself before I got to thinking too much.

  This is why Ray sent him; he’s just doing his job, I told myself.

  “Thank you,” I said and dug into my plate not able to stop.

  He was right, it was nothing like Grandma Rae’s, but it was still delicious. We ate until our stomachs were full, and I could see a little bulge in my Dolce dress.

  “I didn’t know you could cook,” I told him, wiping my mouth on a napkin.

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, ma,” he said and pushed his empty plate away from him. “When I was young, my mom was always gone. So I had to learn to take care of home myself.”

  I nodded my head, knowing how that was. I could see why he and Ray were best friends.

  “Tell me about yourself, Tyler. There’s a lot I don’t know, but I would like to,” I told him in all honesty.

  “There’s not enough time in the world for my story, Say,” he chuckled. “Just know we all got a story, and right now, mine is here. With you.”

  “Make time then,” I said, not wanting to let him off that easy.

  I knew that was probably the only time I’d get him alone again. Once we got back to Detroit, it would be all business and no play once again. The Sadie in Jamaica and the Sadie in Detroit were two separate people, and I knew the same held true for Tyler. I wanted to get the most out of it. Since the incident at the restaurant, no longer did my clit throb for Tyler’s presence, but when he was away, I still did miss him. I didn’t want to go back to Detroit and it still be the same way, because he’d be away a lot lon
ger than thirty minutes there. If I couldn’t have him as my man, lover, or whatever, I would settle for whatever piece of him he would give. When I said I wanted to know him, I meant it. Tyler looked at me, confusion on his face.

  “I promise I won’t ever make any type of advance on you again,” I said, placing my chair directly on the right of his and sitting in it. “This is our last night here, so if I’m not going to get any dick, you have to give me something.” I shrugged, placing my elbow on the table and placing my head in my hand. I’d kept it one hundred with him, and I was expecting the same in return. He studied my face intently to see if I was serious.

  “A’ight, ma, since you insist. What do you wanna know?” he asked.

  “Everything,” I stated simply, and he paused again.

  “Here’s the shortened version. I was born in Detroit and raised by a mother who worked three jobs just to keep a roof over my head. My old man was an abusive alcoholic, but once I turned fifteen, all that shit stopped. I almost killed that nigga after he beat my moms so bad she had a broken jaw and rib cage.” He stopped, but I didn’t interrupt. I wanted him to continue. “I started hustling at eighteen with Ray, just getting it how we lived. I came up, fast. We always had a business plan. The Last Kings started with us. I don’t know if he ever told you that, but this shit popped off long before Coopa ran the city. Shit was coo for a while. My mom only had to work one job since I was taking care of the bills and shit. Everything was going good until some hating-ass niggas got wind of our money chase and did a drive-by on our house. Unfortunately, for them, I wasn’t there, but unfortunately for me, my moms was. She was in the middle of cooking dinner when the shots hit her body. My little sister was upstairs in her bed asleep. Didn’t even know what happened.”

  “Tyler, I’m so sorry,” I said, sitting up straight. “I didn’t know.”

  “It’s good, shorty.” Tyler shook his head, the look in his eyes distant. “I found out who did it and sent all their body parts to their mothers in little freezer bags.”