King

by Johnson, Tremayne

  When we awoke the next morning I surprised Malikah with a ten carat, diamond engagement ring set in platinum, and proposed my love to her. The look on her face when she heard me ask, ''Will you marry me?'' was priceless.

  I didn't know if I was doing it out of spite or because I really wanted to, but I truly loved Malikah unconditionally.

  We tied the knot at my mother's church in New Rochelle. The wedding was a big deal. Malikah wore a pure, white, handmade brides gown by Diane Von Furstenberg, while I donned an Italian style, tailor fitted, designer tuxedo by Stefano Ricci. The bride’s maids all wore red and white and my best man, Rahmeek looked extra sharp in his Armani fit. Jay-Roc's brother, Roger married us and blessed us with his prayers.

  We spent our honeymoon in the South of France at one of the most prestigious resorts money can afford. It was the first time in my life I felt like nothing else mattered. I had a beautiful wife, loving family and friends, and a big pile of money; but when it's all said and done, I still had business to attend to. I occupy the throne because rightfully I'm still King, but you know how that old saying goes, everything that goes up, must come down.

  Chapter Twenty

  Being a married man is not what I expected it to be. For some strange reason I thought things would change, but they didn't. Having Malikah as my wife is not much different than her just being my girlfriend; the only change is a ring and a marriage license legitimizing our love for one another.

  Three months after I got married, the Tiana Washington Community Center opened up. Roger set up a press conference and invited all the media and news stations to cover the cutting of the red tape.

  Hundreds of people showed up in support including the Mayor, Rev. Cal Shipton, a bunch of city councilmen, and quite a few other big name politicians. The community center was a big deal for the neighborhood.

  Before the tape was cut, Roger asked me to give a speech. I stood nervous behind the podium that was set up on the steps in front of the community center in my tailored, Louis Vuitton business suit. I had never spoken in front of a crowd this big before. I could feel the perspiration building under my arms and my hands felt clammy. Malikah, my mother, and some of Jay-Roc’s family members stood to the right and left of me. I looked out into the sea of reporters with their cameras and microphones aimed directly at me, cleared my throat and began.

  ''Good morning, ladies, gentlemen, and children,'' I started. ''Today marks a date in the history of our community that will last a lifetime. The futures of our children lie inside these doors of the Tiana Washington Community Center.'' I said, pointing at the entrance. ''It is my pleasure to be a significant component in building the foundation that will shape America’s youth. We would like to thank the Brooklyn Borough president, the Mayor and especially councilman Johnson, for seeing our vision as we saw it and embracing it. Even if you don’t care about politics, politics will still care for you. I would also like to thank Pastor, Roger Washington for believing in me and helping me bring this great idea to life. Unfortunately we cannot save each and every life, but this is a start and we will make a conscious effort to save as many as possible. The Tiana Washington community center is officially opened to the public. Once again I want to thank everyone for their support and I truly believe this is one step forward in making a constructive change in our community. Have a great day.'' I concluded.

  The cheers and applause from the audience was heavy as the entire city watched Pastor Roger and I cut the red tape. It was one of the best days of my life.

  It was also one of the worst days of my life. Later that evening my mother received the most disturbing news you could think of. A close friend of our family back in Guyana phoned her and reported that my father had been captured and killed in a gun war with the police.

  I wanted so much to cry, but as hard as I tried, it just wasn’t happening. In my heart I always hoped that one day my father’s troubles would just disappear; but realizing what’s real and what’s not, I understand that problems in life don’t just go away. You have to deal with your troubles face to face and ''man up''. I believed my father did the best he could to raise me although I never expected it to turn out like this. I got so many of his ways and actions, from his facial features to his laid back strut. My mother always compared me to him even though I never agreed; I knew it was the truth.

  My mother and I booked the first flight we could get to take us to Guyana. Malikah literally begged me to come along. How could I deny her? She is my wife.

  It’s the first time we were going back to our country after twenty years. It had been so long that I had forgotten what the place I was born in looked like, how the air smelled, and how my favorite foods tasted. I missed my people and was very eager to return. The sad part is it took the death of my father for it to happen.

  When we finally arrived, I was amazed at all the different colors of people. My country blossomed into a beautiful place. We booked rooms in the Cara Suites Hotel in the capital city, Georgetown. Georgetown was named after the British conquered the Dutch in 1812. Like all capitals, the city is the nucleus of government administration and economic activity. My mother let me know that this was probably her third or fourth time being in the city. When we lived here all she would do is go to work and come straight home. The only time she went out was to shop for sugar, rice, fish, shrimp, and fresh fruits and vegetables. She was just as excited to visit her native home as I was.

  We buried my father in the city of Linden, which is where our home was before we left. A huge amount of people showed up to his funeral. Family I hadn’t seen since I was young and family I had never saw in my life.

  During my stay with family I learned my father had been a soldier in the GPM (Guyana People’s Militia), which was formed in 1976. Their resonant slogan was, ''every citizen a soldier''. Down the line he became involved in the exportation of heroin to America and got caught up in the sumptuous lifestyle. By the time I was born, my father was considered one of the biggest drug lords on this side of the map. I was beginning to get an understanding of where I got it.

  Just like me, my mother hadn’t shed a tear yet, but I could hear the pain in her voice and I watched the distress wash over her face.

  We prayed together a lot and the three of us attended church everyday we were there. I could tell by looking into my mother’s eyes that my father’s death put a strain on her. She hid it well from those that did not know her, but I couldn’t be fooled.

  While in Guyana I hadn’t thought about the life I left in America. Retribution was on my mind strong. After talking to my uncle I acquired knowledge of the situation that led up to my father’s death, one of the militiamen that my father shot back when I was a child didn’t die. His name is Baby Doc Aka Mr. 35 percent. They call him that because of the kickbacks he receives from all of the dealers in the area.

  My father and Baby Doc were supposed to have come to an agreement about payment, but my father being the man he was, rejected his offer and took things into his own hands. That’s when they sent Mr. Williams to our house that morning, my father figured it out, killed Mr. Williams and shot the two militiamen one of them died, but Baby Doc survived the gunshots and vowed to find my father and kill him and that’s exactly what he did. Now it was my turn to find Baby Doc and avenge my father’s death.

  After I received the necessary information I needed on Baby Doc’s whereabouts I set out to find him. I went to the local boat rental in Linden and rented a speedboat to get me across the Essequibo River to a small town called Bartica. Baby Doc was said to have been hiding out there since the murder of my father.

  As usual the night temperature was hot, but pleasant for the most part. A slight breeze cooled the air as the speedboat roared through the rough, seawaters.

  Finding my destination with no problem, I exited the boat docked it and prepared myself for revenge.

  The darkness made it almost impossible to see as I crept through the shrubbery making my way to the back entrance to Baby
Doc’s home. The only thing on my mind was murder. Mr. 35 Percent, a well-known corrupt political enforcer had been robbing the families of Georgetown and Linden for a long time, but I was about to put an end to all that.

  I pulled the black mask over my face only exposing my eyes and mouth. The patio door was open and I made my way through the posh home clenching a 24inch machete in my right hand. I could hear the sounds of a television coming from the next room where a young child sat on a sofa immersed in the program that was on.

  When Mr. 35 Percent came around the corner and saw me standing there, he was startled and dropped the plate of food he was holding.

  The glass plate hit the floor and his eyes swelled at the sight of the machete.

  ''Wait...'' he begged, raising his arms to surrender. ''I have lots of money, I can give to you!''

  I moved silently, raised the machete into the air and bought down a splitting blow that almost ripped his arm from his body.

  He screamed out in pain plunging to the floor. I removed my mask so he could see my face before I sent him to his maker.

  ''Rafi?'' He cried.

  ''It's because of you my father is dead, you piece of shit! You destroyed several good families with your treacherous conduct and now you'll reap what you sew bastard.'' I said, swinging the enormous blade at his neck severing his head from his body.

  Blood covered my face as I stood there staring into Baby Doc’s departed eyes. Standing in the doorway was the young kid that was in the other room. I turned and looked at him. The young boy cracked a smile that spread from ear to ear. I could only wonder how this child's life would turn out now that he'd seen his father murdered in front of him. It made me think about the first time I experienced death.

  ''Mesi!'' He said, thanking me.

  ''Kilaj ou?'' I asked and the boy held up ten fingers indicating his age.

  He told me his name was Jean and then he led me upstairs to a closet and showed me a bag filled with money. I took half of what was in the bag and left the other half.

  ***

  When we got back to New York, I scheduled a meeting with Rahmeek and the rest of the team. He informed me of a war going on between our people against Reemo and Lou’s people. I wanted badly to tell him that I didn’t want any part in it, but how could I turn my back on something I created. I pledged to myself that I would be the one to finish it. I carried the crown around my neck and stood on my own two feet. If someone wanted to dethrone the “King” It aint gonna be that easy.

  For the next month nearly everyday bodies were dropping. Each side had its fair share of casualties, but I knew we were losing out on more than we expected. There are no rules when it comes to war on these streets. No one is presumed innocent and everyone is a target.

  Corners were being enveloped in gun battles that left no witnesses and no worries. It was difficult for both sides to continue our trade amongst all the drama that was taking place. That was another factor I learned, war is never good for business in this line of work.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  The intensity was escalating in the streets and my name was the only one law enforcement cared about. I had been questioned on several homicides from Brooklyn to Queens. The police were tightening up on the streets because of the unsolved murders.

  This morning Rahmeek met me on Atlantic Avenue in downtown Brooklyn and passed me the Post newspaper. I couldn't seem to get my thoughts together as I skimmed through the front page story with a headline that read: Inside the King's rise to power: Brash youngsters rule over drug trade, more than 15 murders linked to Deon ''King'' Toure and crew.

  ''This shit is getting out of hand, Rahmeek,'' I said, folding the paper.

  ''Feds are everywhere, King. On top of that take a look at this.'' He said, handing me a small, glassine baggie from his pocket. The stamp said, Lady Rai.

  Up until this point King had been the best dope on the streets, but as soon as I decided to take a break because of the heat someone new surfaced. Lady Rai was the name and Rahmeek had just brought it to my attention.

  ''King, you know since you been on the low there's something new out there.''

  ''What the fuck is this shit?'' I asked, looking down at the baggie.

  ''That's the competition, King.''

  ''Competition?'' I questioned. ''nobody's been able to compare with my product since I came on the scene,''

  ''Well, shit is different now, King…the dope fiends love this shit.'' Rahmeek said, shaking his head.

  ''Who the fuck is Lady Rai?'' I asked angrily.

  ''I don't know, but I'm sure I can find out.'' He answered.

  Lady Rai was infiltrating and I didn’t approve of it one bit. On top of that I didn’t know who this Lady Rai was or what she was about.

  Slowly I started losing my clientele to Lady Rai and of course the streets were talking. At first I thought about just letting it fly in the wind and erasing it from my memory, but my ego played a major part in my actions toward the situation.

  I needed to know who this Lady Rai character was. I sent word out that I wanted to meet with whoever this person is. I got the run around for a few days, then people began saying Lady Rai wasn’t even a lady. They claimed it was a kid from Harlem that was coming up in the game. Whoever it was I was soon going to find out. I damn sure wasn’t about to roll over and let some no name individual gain control of something I worked so hard to build. It took a lot of effort, dedication and discipline to get to the level I reached. I sacrificed blood, sweat and tears in this shit so there was no way I was just gonna let some fucking Lady Rai stroll in and steal it away.

  Heavy snow fell from the clear, blue skies as I brushed the flakes from the windshield of my car. It was 10:30am and Malikah and I were on our way out to do some shopping.

  The blistering cold was freezing my hands so I threw the scrapper into the car and jumped in the driver’s seat.

  ''Lets go Malikah, we need to beat this traffic!'' I yelled out the window.

  Malikah was stepping out the front door. She pulled her wool hat down over her ears and jogged to the car.

  ''Shit…it’s cold out here, Deon.'' She said, knocking the snow from her boots and sitting in the passenger seat.

  ''Damn, Malikah didn’t I ask you to put this bag in the trunk last night?''

  ''Oh…I forgot, I’m sorry.'' She replied.

  I grabbed the bag from the middle console and stepped out to put it in the trunk. The winds were blowing and the snow was coming down so hard it obstructed my vision. I hadn’t noticed the vehicle coming my way until it was too late.

  ''These streets are mine now motherfucka!'' Was all I heard before the gunshots erupted. The first shot went astray, but the following three smashed into my body toppling me over into the trunk.

  Malikah quickly popped the secret stash spot and snatched the .45 I kept hidden away. She fired off a couple rounds at the attackers. They exchanged gunfire and one slug ripped into Malikah’s upper body sending her flying into the cold, wet snow. Her blood immediately turned the fresh white stuff dark burgundy.

  I was slumped over but I was still alive. I fell to the wintry concrete and rolled onto my back. The inferno that ran through my body prevented me from feeling the ice-cold conditions.

  For me just to breathe was extremely difficult. I started losing my vision. I passed out.

  Malikah crawled through the slush making her way to where I lay.

  ''Deon, get up…get up Deon…you’re not gonna leave me like this.'' she screamed as tears came down her face. She pounded my chest. I was able to slightly open my eyes. I was barely able to get the words out.

  ''It burns, Malikah.'' I uttered.

  ''Baby, don’t move, I’ma get us some help.'' she said.

  When she finally looked down at her wound and saw all that blood leaking from her shoulder she got dizzy and fainted.

  The two of us lay there on the frosty ground as the icy snow continued to fall. All I could do was gaze into the sky and pray to w
hoever would listen.

  I heard footsteps approaching and through my distorted vision I thought I could see a female figure standing over me. She reached and gently took the chain off my neck. All I could do was watch, powerless, as she walked off with my crown.

  ''Asia…'' I whispered and passed out.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  My recovery took longer than I expected and the doctor told me that they couldn’t remove one of the bullets lodged in my back because if they moved it I could end up paralyzed.

  Malikah’s recovery was much faster because she only suffered a flesh wound. The bullet went in and out of her shoulder. Once again I was confined to the house and while I was out of commission Lady Rai was taking over the streets. I soon found out that Lady Rai was indeed Asia. She had taken everything I taught her and assembled a team to go against me. Her underbosses were Reemo and Lou. Together they managed to take control of the dope game.

  Asia was shocked to hear that Malikah and I survived the hit, but what puzzled me the most was the fact that they knew where to find me. The only people who knew that information were the ones close to me. Someone was playing both sides of the fence and I needed to quickly find out who it was. The tables rapidly turned as the streets praised Lady Rai as the new Queen of heroin.

  My thirst for revenge was at an all time high, but at the moment I had more important issues I had to deal with. Since the death of my father and the recent shooting, my mother couldn’t withstand all the terrible happenings in such a short amount of time.

  When I did get the chance to see her she looked very stressed out. She began losing weight and she didn’t act as she normally did. I had never seen my mother so depressed and withdrawn. She had always been very high spirited and talkative, now she just sulked around the house like she had nothing to live for.