King Reece

by Shaun Sinclair

  “Yep,” Bone said.

  “Why would he risk that? He ain’t hurting for money?”

  “I believe—now I don’t know for sure—Samson got a baby by one of their sisters in Mexico. The family was kind of poor so Samson threw the brother a bone. Gave him a way to make some money. Bag or tag is what’s up in Mexico, so that’s what they did,” Bone explained.

  To Reece this was bittersweet. He loved Samson for trying to give someone a chance just as Qwess had done for him and his brother Hulk so many years ago. Reece was all about helping the “little guy.” By the same token, though, he did not need the drama. Sure, Samson was being housed with some Mexicans who looked out, but they were straight. Samson didn’t owe anybody shit! Reece had made sure of it.

  Then Samson’s dick had to go putting him in debt. Reece understood perfectly the dilemma. Samson was put in. Mexicans were extremely family-oriented. By Samson knocking the Mexicana up, he had forever solidified a place in the family. The Mexicana had brothers (who were more than likely overprotective). What better way to woo them than by putting some cash in their pockets, making them men. Reece definitely understood the dilemma, but that was beside the fact. Wasn’t no other outsider going to belittle the Crescent Crew.

  “So, basically you saying they still doing this?” Reece asked.

  “Yeah, I guess so. What else would they be talking about?”

  “Well, it don’t matter. Samson got other issues now.”

  Just then Bone’s c-phone rang. When he answered it, Reece could tell it was a woman by the way Bone spoke. Then, suddenly, his tone changed. He was practically screaming while at the light on Skibo Road.

  “Yo, who the fuck you talking to?” Reece prompted. Bone covered the phone and answered.

  “The Mexican.”

  “Give me the phone.” Reece grabbed Bone’s phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Ello, ooh es dis?”

  “This Reece. Who dis?”

  “Ah, mi amigo. Ju jes de person I want talk to,” Gil said in broken English.

  “Yeah? What about?”

  “It seems we ’ave a pro’lem, Vato. Ju see ween Monstruoso go weet ju, heem leave us weet a bag, ju know?”

  “How is that our problem?” Reece asked. He was ready to put it down on these cats. Samson was Crew, and Crew first.

  Gil chuckled lightly. “Aye, mi amigo. Ju no ’ave a pro’lem.”

  “Hell, you say?” Reece checked him.

  “Ay. I do say. Monstruoso, heem and we partners. We ’ave much negocios in Mexico. Heem owe us.”

  “Hold up. Hold up.” Reece had had enough. “First of all, Samson is in jail, so whatever plans y’all had, you can cancel. Second of all, Samson is our business partner, our brother. So, I don’t give a fuck how much business y’all got in Mexico. Business here comes first!” Reece exploded into the phone. Passengers from other cars looked at him in the convertible with wild eyes. Reece looked in the side mirror and saw that he was foaming. He wiped his mouth and continued.

  “Samson should be home soon, but when he do we got business to take care of, too. So, I suggest you fuckers head south of the border,” Reece suggested.

  Gil’s tone was repentant. “Ju know, Vato, I sorry ju feel dat way. A man weet so many skeletons in is closet should ’ave more respeto. No worry. Ju weel soon, vato loco. Ju ’ave me respect soon,” Gil promised.

  “Yeah, well, fuck you very much! Hello? Hello? Bastards hung up,” Reece told Bone. Then he remembered the other thing he had to handle. “Yo, take me back to my car. I gotta go handle something while I’m on this end,” he said suddenly.

  “A’ight. What’s up with the Mexicans?” Bone was curious.

  “Don’t worry about it. You shouldn’t hear from them again no time soon.”

  “Good.”

  Bone busted a U-turn in traffic to go back whence they came. Things were looking up. The boss was back in rare form, the infiltrators were out. Things couldn’t get better.

  But they could get worse.

  Chapter 19

  Doe and Niya were visiting Qwess in his home on the Wahid compound. Qwess was in his movie room surrounded by his nephews. They were watching Goodfellas on the movie screen. Qwess’s leg was propped up on a futon, a bucket of popcorn sat in his lap. When he saw Doe and Niya, he happily ushered them in.

  “Heey. Salaam alaykum!” Qwess sang. “Come on in. Have a seat. Keyshawn, go get more drinks.” One of the twins got up to retrieve the drinks. “What’s happening, good people?”

  “Just chillin’,” Doe offered. “Niya wanted to come see how you were doing. She hasn’t seen you since we came back from Atlanta.”

  That was Doe’s signal to Qwess: Make sure you remember we came back from Atlanta together.

  “Oh, yeah, sis. I was kind of salty that you didn’t come see me off from the hospital.”

  Niya blushed. “Well, somebody insisted on going by themselves. What was I to do?”

  “I feel you,” Qwess offered. He could sense that he was in the beginning stages of a jousting match.

  “By the way, who all came back with you all?”

  Here it comes.

  Qwess was careful. “Me, Hulk, Lisa, and Doe.”

  “Um-mm.”

  “Why?”

  “Just curious. Where is Lisa at, anyway? I heard about your gift,” Niya said, changing the subject.

  “She had to fly back to L.A. She wanted me to go with her, but I told her we got business to handle.”

  “Uh-oh. Sounds serious. Don’t tell me Mr. Philanderer is turning over a new leaf,” Niya joked.

  “Nah, sis. It ain’t even like that. She good people, though.”

  “A’ight, Qwess. Don’t hurt my girl. She really dig you.”

  “Your girl?” both Doe and Qwess questioned.

  “You don’t even know her,” Doe set the record straight.

  “We kicked it at the party a little bit.”

  “What party?” Doe asked.

  “You know the one last year. Anyway she’s a friend in my head.” Niya finally left it at that.

  “Whatever.”

  Qwess decided to change the subject.

  “Li’l sis. You know this here don’t stop nothing.” He pointed at his leg. “As soon as I can get off this dope, we gon’ get it cracking in the studio. Gon’ smash the game, too!” he assured her.

  Each time Qwess mentioned his leg, Niya winced. Deep down inside she felt that she was responsible. Additionally, it could have easily been her husband that had been hit. No one had told Niya what transpired to get her off AMG, but she knew something real gangsta had gone down. When Linda Swansen had called and cursed her out with threats, Niya knew things were serious. People didn’t get that upset when regular business deals went wrong, so that tipped her off. Her suspicions were confirmed yesterday when she learned someone was in custody for the beating of John Meyers. When Samson’s mug shot flashed on the screen, Niya easily put two and two together.

  “Qwess, I know we are gonna smash the game,” Niya agreed. She paused a second, taking Qwess’s hand into hers. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me, too. I really do. And I’m sorry about your leg.” This was all Niya said, but she was also thinking about how he was covering for her husband. However, she would let that ride for now.

  “It’s nothing. I’m sure you would do the same for me.” Qwess readjusted himself in his seat. He was uncomfortable with the way Niya peered at him. Like she was looking for something in his eyes.

  “Have you heard from Reece?” Qwess asked, looking at Doe. Anything to change the subject.

  “Yeah. He’s with his son. Ever since he came back, they’ve been inseparable.”

  “I still can’t believe that girl just gave up her son like that.” Niya shook her head.

  “Hey, seeing is believing,” quipped Doe. Qwess said nothing. He knew something still was not right about that.

  “Anyway, me, him, and Amin supposed to get up la
ter to discuss some things,” Doe volunteered.

  “Does he know about Samson being extradited back to face charges on that AMG stuff?”

  “Yeah. He vexed and worried, too. He told me something about cursing out those Mexican cats.”

  “Word?” Qwess was surprised. “What for?”

  “Don’t know.” Doe shrugged. “All he said was he put him in his place.”

  They talked a little more about catching up on things. Then Qwess asked Niya to excuse them.

  Niya left the room in a huff. When Qwess and Doe were alone, except for the twins, Qwess pulled Doe closer so he could whisper. Qwess had picked this up from his father. Somehow it made things seem urgent, which suited things perfectly.

  “Talk to me, bro. Who is she?” Qwess asked in a scolding tone.

  A load was lifted from Doe’s shoulder. Surely, he could tell Qwess how he felt. He of all people would understand the inevitable draw of a beautiful dame. Doe didn’t know what had gotten into him, but he had to have Dana.

  “Aw, man, you remember ole girl from the video?”

  “Which video?”

  “Flame’s joint ‘Lusting.’”

  “The Hawaiian broad?” Qwess smiled.

  “So, you feel me.” It was more of an affirmation than a question. “Brah, I just had to have her. Remember the night of the party? Brah, the broad sucked my shit like a pro . . .”

  ’Cause she probably is a pro, Qwess was thinking.

  “I didn’t hit that night, but that was the beginning. She tutored me right in the black room. Shit was so erotic!” Doe gushed.

  Qwess listened but didn’t like it one bit. This was not Doe’s game. Doe was the balance, the stability. Plus it had been a while since he played out in the rain. He was liable to drown.

  “Dude, dude, dude, listen.” Qwess shook his head repeatedly. “This is not what’s up,” Qwess stated firmly.

  Doe looked at Qwess, shocked. He thought Qwess would be happy for him. After all, wasn’t it Qwess who always joked about him being stuck with the same trap forever?

  “You smarter than this. You a married man, brother.”

  “But wasn’t it you who said marriage is a prison?”

  “Yeah, man, but that was from my point of view. That was because I’m too selfish to commit to one woman. You’re stronger than me. Smarter than me . . . Brother, you gotta end this,” Qwess decided.

  “But she makes me feel so good!” gushed Doe.

  “That’s all the more reason you gotta end it,” persisted Qwess. “Brah, you are married. To a beautiful woman who worships the ground you walk on. Now is not the time to start fucking that up.”

  Doe finally relented. “I know all that, but—”

  “But nothing! Look at all the shit we went through to get her straight.” Qwess focused on his leg. “That was because she family. Niya good peoples, and I won’t lie for you again. So tighten up,” Qwess snapped.

  Damn, that was harsh. Doe couldn’t understand why Qwess was flipping on him. After all the times he had had his back? Doe didn’t realize that Qwess admired his resolve. Respected his chastity. Especially in a sex-driven industry like modern hip-hop. Doe didn’t understand that not thinking rationally could crumble everything that they had accomplished. The very thing that some had risked their lives to see brought to fruition.

  After such a strong lashing from his best friend in the whole world, Doe was ready to leave.

  He stood to leave. “A’ight. I got you, brother,” Doe said, giving Qwess dap.

  “Do you really?” Qwess wondered.

  “No doubt.”

  “A’ight then. Go handle your business. Go make your wife feel special.” Qwess patted him on the back.

  Doe left to join his wife. He had understood everything Qwess said, but right now his passions were his lord. Try as he might, he just could not extract Dana from his mind. Her smell. Her softness. The way she moaned in desire.

  Shook in ecstasy. All this made for an intoxicating package that was truly unforgettable. Yet he knew he had to let go. He loved his wife. And though Dana made him feel like a teenager again, he wasn’t. He was a grown-ass man who understood that what happened in the dark eventually came to the light.

  Eventually.

  * * *

  “Pow! POW! Pow!” The gun erupted. “Look, Daddy, I shot you.”

  Reece snatched the gun away from Prince.

  “Stop, son. You’re not shooting nobody. What’s wrong with you?”

  Little Prince was visibly disturbed. He went to pouting immediately. “But I heard you shoot people. I want to be just like my daddy.”

  “What? Who told you that?”

  “She did.” Prince pointed at Vanilla, who was sunbathing by the pool.

  “Prince, go inside and play,” Reece ordered. “Now! And give me that.” He snatched the toy gun from his hand.

  Reece stormed over to Vanilla and snatched off her sun visor. “What the hell is wrong with you telling my son I shoot people!?”

  “You do,” Vanilla stated flatly. “I just thought the kid should know who his daddy is.”

  “You don’t tell my five-year-old son that I shoot people!” Reece was livid.

  “Don’t you want him to be just like you?”

  “Hell, naw! I want him to be better than me.”

  “You didn’t turn out so bad,” Vanilla reasoned.

  Reece looked at her like she was crazy.

  “I didn’t turn out so bad? I’m a dope-dealing murderer! Fuck you talking ’bout?!”

  “It didn’t seem so bad before. You wore it like a badge of honor. Besides, you haven’t done so badly for yourself.” Vanilla gestured at the spacious mansion.

  Reece shook his head defiantly. “Don’t get it twisted. I was dealt my cards, and I played them. But this life isn’t cool for everyone, especially not my son. Nah, I want him to be better than me. I bloodied my hands so he won’t have to.”

  Vanilla had never seen this side of him before. King Reece was never repentant. In fact, she didn’t believe him this time, either.

  “Whatever, nigga,” she told him.

  “What?” Reece stalked her lounge chair. “What you say?”

  “Nothing.” Vanilla attempted to cop pleas, but it was too late. Reece scooped her in one motion and threw her into the pool. She hit the cool water with a big splash.

  “Don’t talk slick to me,” Reece commented as he went to join his son inside his mansion.

  Reece found Prince in front of the PlayStation as usual. Reece flipped the screen off.

  “Let’s talk, son.”

  Prince sat on his father’s lap. “What’s up, Dad?”

  Reece grinned at how grown his son seemed. Wouldn’t be long before he was causing problems.

  “I was serious about not shooting no one. That’s not cool. You’re going to be a lawyer or something. Not a gangsta. A’ight?”

  “But, Daddy, you’re a gangsta,” innocent Prince acknowledged.

  Reece couldn’t fool this one. “True,” he admitted.

  “So, why can’t I be like you?” Prince wanted to know.

  “Because you can be better than me. I’m gonna make sure of it. Besides, gangstas need lawyers. You can take all their money legally. And that’s really gangsta!” Reece coached his son.

  “Okay, Daddy. If you say so. Daddy, when is Momma coming back?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  It was true. Reece had been giving his life a lot of thought. The shooting in Atlanta, Samson in jail, the crew under siege . . . It made Reece ponder things like life and happiness. He concluded that he was happiest when he was with Katrina. He had found himself looking forward to their time together. When he visited her in her bunker, as medieval as it was, it felt like a vacation to him. The conversations they engaged in were like salve for his soul. She had shown her growth, and even challenged him on some things.

  When his life flashed before him in Atlanta, the happiest moments in those quick snapsh
ots were with Katrina. He could no longer deny it, he was at his best when he was with her.

  It was then he realized he really cared for her. More than any woman since his mother.

  He also realized the only way his son would have a chance in this world was with his mother in his life. Reece had damaged enough lives in his lifetime to warrant saving one, especially his own flesh and blood. During his twisted plan of retribution, Katrina had proven herself tougher than most men he knew. For that she deserved a chance to live. Only with him, of course. Any jumping ship would result in an immediate death sentence.

  As far as how he looked in the eyes of his comrades, fuck ’em! He was the boss. He couldn’t pardon who he wanted? What was the use of being boss if you couldn’t make executive decisions?

  Reece had indeed made up his mind. The only way to live the present and prepare for the future was to leave the past in the past. So, if Katrina could forgive his transgressions, he could forgive hers.

  First thing in the morning, Reece planned to find out.

  * * *

  Destiny writhed in pain as she rolled over on the bed. Her stomach felt as if someone were inside trying to slice their way out with a razor. Her body felt weak because she’d had a horrible bout of diarrhea. As if the pain wasn’t enough, her resolve was weakening. It was one thing for her to be strong in the presence of Reece, but in truth, she was growing tired of her predicament. She missed her son like crazy, and she was beginning to doubt Reece’s sanity. What type of man would subject a woman to these types of conditions? What kind of man would risk the life of the mother of his child for a vendetta? Had he no heart?

  During their talks when Reece visited, Destiny remembered why she had loved Reece so much at one point. However, it was moments like this she remembered why she hated him as well. Reece was an enigma, a complicated man who lived life to the beat of his own drum. With the psychology that he was attempting to inject into her mind with the literature he brought her, she was able to delve deeper into his mind. She concluded that there was a thin line between genius and insanity. But was this roller coaster worth it? Should she give up the fight and succumb to Reece’s crooked vendetta or should she continue to hold strong for their child?

  A terrible pain ripped through her stomach again. Destiny clutched her belly and prayed to God for help. She knew that she did not have much fight left in her.