Carl Weber's Kingpins

by Treasure Hernandez

  Jersey stopped abruptly in his tracks. “Unless your dude in here.”

  “There you go!” Kafisa rolled her eyes. In that moment she realized why they had ended. “Same ole cocky-ass Jameel. If I had a dude, he would’ve been whose arms I would’ve slipped into, not yours.”

  “Say less.” Jameel smiled. He extended his arms for a second time. Kafisa stepped into his welcoming embrace.

  Damn, this brother still smells delicious, she thought as he enveloped her in his Black Butter fragrance oil. The hug brought back so many memories. Kafisa immediately broke the hug.

  Jameel laughed. “So, who you with?” he asked.

  “My homegirl.” Kafisa pointed behind her to Halimah.

  Halimah had long ago stopped dancing, but she resumed when she realized her boss knew the guy who had just saved her from falling; only this time she kept her dance moves to a minimum.

  Kafisa and Jameel were oblivious to what was going on around them. Nor did they care. They continued to stand in the middle of the dance floor, conversing.

  “What about you? No lady? Rider? Boo? Side pieces with you tonight?” Kafisa asked.

  Jameel chuckled. “Nah. ’Em days been over. That was then. This is now.” He flashed his smirk again. It was the third time Kafisa had noticed it. She started to think he was doing it on purpose because he knew she liked it.

  “I hear that hot shit,” Kafisa remarked mockingly.

  “I’m dead ass. That’s my section over there.” He pointed over at the last VIP section to the right. “Those my peoples,” he continued. “Some of my manz from my hood in Plainfield, out in Jersey, and some of my manz from down in the dirty.”

  “You still down South?” Kafisa asked.

  “Definitely!” he exclaimed. “All through there like it’s the tristate area.”

  Kafisa read him loud and clear. She did a quick scan of Jameel’s VIP section. She had noticed it before but then had paid it no mind, because there was nothing of any interest to her there. She never came to the club and gave the impression that she had come out to meet dudes. She was positive Jameel had not been in that section when she looked over there earlier. What stood out to her was the fact that they had two dozen twelve-hundred-dollar bottles of champagne and only five dudes and three females in their section. Jameel would make a party of nine for twenty-four bottles of the best. She was slightly impressed but didn’t want to give any credit just yet.

  Kafisa was no ghetto genius, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that either Jameel or somebody else over in that section was doing something in a major way. She wondered why she didn’t recognize anybody in his crew. She also wondered how they had come to be in attendance at the upscale club, and as an exclusive party at that. Maybe one of them females thots from New York and brought them out, she concluded silently.

  “So, none of those chicks ain’t your New York piece?” Kafisa shot at him.

  Jameel did a quick glance back. “I don’t know ’em broads,” he then replied. “I was in the restroom and had to make a call. They weren’t there when I left. You know how it go, though. My dudes doin’ ’em.”

  “Uh-huh!” Kafisa snickered. “So y’all just stumbled across this spot?” she asked.

  “Twenty-one questions, geesh.” Jameel laughed. “Nah, my manz, Kamil, from my town. He used to live out here before they moved out my way, so he know the area and got folks out here,” he explained.

  It makes sense, Kafisa thought.

  “If you’re worried about ’em chicks, I’ll tell ’em to leave. You and your homegirl are welcome to join me as my guests,” Jameel added.

  That got a laugh out of her. Apparently, Halimah had heard him say that, because she let out a chuckle too. It dawned on Kafisa then that the only perception Jameel had of her was as a young ride-or-die chick and not as the boss she was. “Thanks, but I’m good.” She turned and pointed to her and Halimah’s VIP section. “We got our own spot.”

  Jameel peered over her shoulder and noticed the bottles sitting on the table of the empty VIP section. His infamous smirk broadened. “No doubt.” It didn’t take him long to figure it out. “Put my number in your phone.” Jameel pulled out his iPhone. “You never know when it may come in handy. It’s even lovelier than you remember,” he noted, referring to the money Kafisa used to see him make when she knew him in Columbia, South Carolina.

  He has no idea, she thought. She didn’t expect him to know her status. After all, he was from Plainfield, New Jersey, and she was a “Bed-Stuy, do or die” Brooklyn boss lady to heart.

  “Just shoot me a text letting me know it’s you.” She handed him one of her business cards.

  Jameel took a quick glance at it, smiled, and stuck it in his pocket. “Definitely!” He nodded. He was impressed with the fact that Kafisa had a business card.

  “You still say that.” Kafisa had noticed that he still favored the word definitely.

  “Yup! And yup, too, before you ask,” he replied.

  The two of them shared a laugh. Then there was a familiar silence for a few seconds. It seemed as if the music had stopped and all that existed was Kafisa and Jameel. He was the first to break the silence.

  “It was good seeing you, babe.” He leaned in and gave Kafisa another hug. “I’ma hit you later,” he cooed in her ear.

  His words went straight through Kafisa’s earlobe and traveled between her inner thighs. She closed her eyes for a split second and smiled on the inside. She had forgotten how sensual he was.

  Halimah had already begun to make her way back over to their VIP section as Kafisa and Jameel said their good-byes.

  “Still smoo—” Kafisa’s words were interrupted by the vibration of her cell phone on her hip. She retrieved it. When she saw who it was, she held up a finger. She read Jameel’s lips as he told her he was out, then watched him vanish into the sea of people before answering the call.

  “Hold up. I’m in the club!” she shouted into the receiver once Jameel was out of sight. She could barely hear what the person on the other end of the line was saying, so Kafisa walked in the opposite direction of the speakers. She was able to hear him once she got near the club’s exit doors. “What’s going down?”

  “Fee, you got to get back to the borough and quick,” an irate C-Dub informed her.

  “Why? What the fuck is the problem?” She could tell from his tone that something was wrong.

  “Your girl Jazz, the dumb ass, got knocked at JFK while trying to board a plane with something she didn’t have no business tryin’a board with, ya dig?” C-Dub spit in code.

  “Yeah, I follow you. But to where?” Kafisa was puzzled.

  “According to her, headed to Virginia,” he said. He knew Kafisa wasn’t going to like the news.

  “Fuck!” Kafisa breathed into the phone.

  It had just dawned on her that Jazz had told her she was going to visit her cousins in Virginia and was going to look into how they operated down there. Kafisa found it strange that she was having two conversations in one night about the South. First, she had run into Jameel, who was hustling down there, and now Jazz had gotten caught while trying to get down there. She told Halimah to wait there while she finished talking to C-Dub. She stepped outside of the club’s main room to finish the conversation.

  “Please tell me you’re fucking with me. For real, ’cause if you is, I’ma beat yo’ ass on some serious shit!” Kafisa was secretly praying that this was all a joke.

  “You must not have been watching the news,” he said. “It’s all over. She’s in custody right now.” The seriousness was all too clear now in his tone. “One of my peoples that work at the top of the TSA chain told me they interrogating her now.”

  Kafisa grimaced. “She didn’t say anything, did she?” she asked, hoping for the better of the worst. She wondered if Jazz would rat her out.

  “Nah, she holdin’ up, according to my peoples,” C-Dub replied. “They said she isn’t saying a damn thing, other than that she
doesn’t know how it got there.” He let out a light chuckle. “I just thought you should know. I’m pretty sure you don’t need this type of heat at your doorstep now that you are free and clear,” C-Dub added.

  “You right about that shit,” Kafisa replied with attitude in her tone.

  “Whoa. Don’t shoot the messenger,” C-Dub shot back.

  Kafisa hadn’t realized she had just snapped at C-Dub for nothing. She apologized to him immediately, not wanting to ruffle any feathers. “My bad, OG. I didn’t mean any disrespect,” she said.

  “It’s cool. I get it,” he told her, accepting her apology. “But on another note, based on what she got knocked with, she gonna have to lay down, no matter what lawyer you get her,” C-Dub pointed out. “And there’s a strong possibility the big boys have stepped in, ’cause that’s a federal offense fo’ sure.”

  Kafisa hadn’t even thought about that. Jazz had fucked up and had crossed over from local to federal with her dumb-ass move. Kafisa’s mind drifted off as she considered the serious consequences of Jazz being in custody.

  “Who knows what they might do there?” C-Dub’s words brought Kafisa back.

  “Tell me what they could do.”

  “They could search her phone, look at her recent calls. Anything, Fee, really. They in control. But I don’t know.... Right now it’s too early to know. But another thing . . .”

  “What’s that?” Kafisa was all ears. She had a feeling she was not going to like what C-Dub had to add about the already crazy situation.

  “If they do step in, you probably gonna have to lay low too, until this shit blows over.”

  It was as though C-Dub had just introduced her to spring water. Kafisa hadn’t given that scenario any thought, either. She was grateful for how C-Dub had her back. “I understand,” Kafisa told him, and she really did. “I’ll be there tomorrow, and hopefully, that won’t be the case.”

  “Yeah, hopefully,” C-Dub agreed. “See you then.”

  Kafisa hung up abruptly and made her way back into the main room of the club. She spotted Halimah, who was now back in the VIP section. She had her hands up, as if to ask, “What happened?”

  Kafisa made her way over to Halimah. “We have to go!” she told her. Kafisa’s mood had just been dampened, and the look on her face demanded that Halimah get on the same page.

  “What’s going on?” Halimah asked.

  “This fuckin’ chick Jazz got knocked.” Kafisa’s irritation was more apparent now. “Tryin’a sneak some shit on the plane.” She shook her head in disbelief. “I know she know better than that shit, but it seems she thought her shit was untouchable,” Kafisa explained as they scurried to the elevator. She exhaled irately and punched the button to the elevator, as if that was going to make the elevator doors open faster.

  “I’m sure it’ll be okay,” Halimah said, trying her best to calm a heated Kafisa.

  Her words hardly calmed Kafisa down; instead, they made her even more furious. “Nah, shit is serious. This bitch knows too fuckin’ much about my operation,” Kafisa uttered.

  “Well, if that’s the case, the question is how thorough do you think she really is?” Halimah asked cautiously.

  Kafisa nodded. That’s the million-dollar fuckin’ question, she thought. “Time will tell,” she replied as they made their way toward one of the building’s exits.

  Once Kafisa and Halimah were out of the building, Kafisa handed her valet ticket to the attendant. She blew into her hands and rubbed the sides of her arms to minimize the goose bumps that had appeared out of nowhere. The temperature had dropped while they were in the club. If Kafisa weren’t freezing, Halimah would’ve asked the question she had been dying to ask her boss ever since she witnessed the exchange between her and the guy who had caught her on the dance floor.

  “That’s the price you pay for tryin’a look cute and shit,” Halimah teased.

  Her comment received half of a smile from Kafisa. Any other time she would’ve shot back some slick shit in rapid succession at Halimah, but all she could think about now was the disturbing call she had just received. It wasn’t until Halimah inquired about Jameel that Kafisa gave the other woman her full attention.

  “If you must know, nosy ass,” she said with a solemn look on her face, answering Halimah’s question, “that was my first love.” Kafisa let out a light chuckle. That was all she offered.

  Halimah left it at that. The two hopped into Kafisa’s Range Rover and drove through the New York City traffic in silence.

  Meanwhile, back in the club, all eyes were on Jameel as he made his way back to his VIP section. He didn’t noticed everyone’s stares. Jameel was still trying to wrap his head around running into Kafisa Jackson. Damn! She looks even better than I remembered, he thought to himself. So many memories resurfaced in his mind.

  “Nigga!” His homeboy’s shout brought him back to the present.

  “What’s good?” Jameel asked his comrade Kamil. He wondered why he had a distorted look on his face.

  “What you mean, what’s good?” Kamil questioned. “How you know ole girl?” Kamil was curious not only about how he knew her, but also about their conversation.

  Jameel had already jumped to conclusions and answered, “Why? Wassup? You know her dude or something? And let me guess. He some heavy hitter out here in New York.” Jameel’s words came across as dry and sarcastic.

  “Bro—,” Kamil began, but Jameel cut him off.

  “Before you even say anything, my dude, hear me out.”

  Kamil shook his head. “Go ahead, bro.”

  “Man, what, you cool with the nigga or something?” Jameel asked, suggesting the obvious. “Last I checked, I was your manz from the sandbox, so what the fuck is up?” Jameel said, taking offense to Kamil shaking his head.

  “Bro, relax!” Kamil told him. “You don’t even know who you were talkin’ to!”

  “Nigga, fuck you mean, I don’t know who she is?” The irritation could be heard in his tone.

  Kamil’s brother, Kamal, approached them and watched as they exchanged words. He just shook his head and laughed, because Kamil had already filled him in on who Kafisa really was. He knew Jameel was clueless about her status in the streets. He didn’t even bother to intervene.

  “That’s one of my exes,” Jameel declared, his voice booming. “Nah. Matter of fact,” he said, correcting himself, “that was my motherfuckin’ heart right there.”

  Both Kamil’s and Kamal’s jaw dropped to the floor at Jameel’s words.

  “That’s crazy!” Those were the few words Kamil could conjure up with a straight face.

  “What’s crazy?” Jameel wanted to know what foolery his boys were busting his chops about.

  “It’s crazy that your motherfuckin’ heart is one of the biggest fuckin’ drug connects within the five boroughs, and you need a fuckin’ plug so you can get the fuck out of Plainfield and back down South,” Kamil told him.

  It was Jameel’s turn to drop his jaw on the floor. He fell back onto the VIP couch. He couldn’t help but laugh to himself. My ex-babe a boss? he wondered. He pulled out the business card Kafisa had given him. He hadn’t looked at it when she first handed it to him, thinking it was just a regular business card with her information. He smiled as he read it to himself. Kafisa Jackson, entrepreneur. We provide quality and excellent service. He smiled wider. Hell yeah, I’ma definitely call you, he thought to himself as he put the card back in his pocket and then sat back. He believed he had a slight edge over everyone.

  Chapter Twelve

  Kafisa still couldn’t believe it. Despite what she had watched on the news when she arrived back home, she still thought her eyes were deceiving her. Just as C-Dub had said, Jazz had been charged with trying to traffic drugs through the airport to another state. Although they had a jacket over her face, when the Feds were whisking her out of the airport, there was no mistaking Jazz’s unique pigeon-toed and bowlegged stride. Kafisa had watched as they escorted Jazz to an awaiting black SUV,
which reporters had swarmed.

  She shook her head in disgust as she sat in Junior’s in downtown Brooklyn and waited for C-Dub to arrive. They had agreed to meet up at noon. The news about Jazz was a hard pill to swallow. She didn’t want to believe that somebody she had trusted with her life had crossed her and committed the ultimate betrayal. She had taught Jazz nearly everything there was to know about getting money and fending for herself. Kafisa had disclosed some things to Jazz that not even Halimah or Laverne, her second highest earner, knew. This was why the disturbing news C-Dub had later texted her—that her name had come up in the investigation—had her both infuriated and somewhat on edge.

  Apparently, C-Dub had been given the information that the Feds had come in and interrogated Jazz at the airport. The news stories on television had confirmed that for Kafisa. C-Dub’s inside source had later informed him that Jazz had mentioned the name Kafisa Jackson during the interrogation, but the informant wasn’t sure why she had dropped this name. Kafisa was sure it wasn’t for selling Girl Scout cookies. She believed that if Jazz had mentioned her to the Feds, then it was crime related.

  Kafisa glanced down at her watch. It was quarter after twelve, and C-Dub had still not arrived. Kafisa was antsy, so she pulled out her cell phone, scrolled down to C-Dub’s number, and hit the CALL button. He picked up on the first ring.

  “I’m right outside,” he informed her.

  She peered out the front window of the restaurant and saw C-Dub’s black-and-silver Maybach. “I see you.” Kafisa hung up the phone. She admired the enormous luxury car. It was actually on her bucket list. She had already told herself that by her thirtieth birthday, she would have every chick and nigga on her dick when she pulled off the lot with her Maybach and stunted through the hood with her girls. Her train of thought ceased with the sudden presence of C-Dub.

  Kafisa stood and hugged the man who had been her mentor since her father’s demise. “So, talk to me.” Kafisa wasted no time. “What’s good?” she asked.

  C-Dub, who now sat across from her, grimaced. “Doesn’t look good at all.” He shook his head.