Carl Weber's Kingpins

by Treasure Hernandez

  That was not the response Kafisa was looking for. “Tsk! Damn!” She cursed under her breath. “This backstabbing bitch!”

  C-Dub nodded. “Yeah, I don’t know what she tellin’ them people, but she sayin’ somethin’ relevant. I got my peoples on it, but its airtight right now.”

  “I appreciate it,” Kafisa replied. She was riled up to the fullest but didn’t want to display how she really felt in front of C-Dub. Her father had always told her, “Never let ’em see you sweat.” Although she considered C-Dub family, she knew this was one of those times when she had to heed her father’s advice. “So, how you think I should play it?” she asked calmly, wanting to see where his head was at in this sticky situation.

  “Honestly?” C-Dub stared into her eyes, grasping her true feelings. “You’re going to have to disappear for a minute.” He let his words marinate in Kafisa’s mind before he spoke again. “At least until we can get more info on this thing. There’s too much at stake right now. She was one of your top earners,” C-Dub reminded her. “Which means she knows a lot about everythin’.” He ended with a stare that Kafisa couldn’t misread.

  Kafisa was now fuming inside even more, if that was possible. If she could get her hands on Jazz, she knew she would kill her. Everything she had worked so hard for, she could feel slipping through her fingers. In just under two years, she had managed to earn the respect of Brooklyn and had climbed higher up the criminal ladder than the majority of families under C-Dub’s umbrella.

  A sharp pain jabbed her in the side as she thought about how close she had come to fulfilling her father’s last wishes. She had almost been ready to use the number Francine Costillo had given her that day at the hotel three years ago. And now this. She believed that if C-Dub felt this was the best way to handle the circumstances, then she was going to respect that. After all, with his blessings, she had been able to spread her wings and stretch her operation across the entire borough of Brooklyn. Were it not for him and the teachings of her father, she didn’t know where she would be, thought Kafisa.

  “So, who’s gonna run my spots?” Kafisa didn’t even try to dispute C-Dub’s decision.

  C-Dub let out a sigh of relief. “Man, I thought this was going to be harder than you made this.” He smiled. “This is the best way. Lay low and come back even stronger, like you never left,” C-Dub told her.

  Kafisa gave half of a nod.

  “As far as your spots, all new crews will be put in there. Your girl Jazz has jeopardized every fuckin’ thing you had rollin’,” C-Dub informed Kafisa.

  You could see the muscles in Kafisa’s jaw tighten up. She knew the rules of the game, so she couldn’t be mad at anybody but herself and, of course, the bitch-ass rat, Jazz. Because of one bad apple, her entire barrel of goods had been spoiled. “So, where Halimah and Laverne gonna go?” She wanted to know about her two top earners.

  “They gotta lay low too,” C-Dub announced.

  A twisted look appeared on Kafisa’s face. “So, how my team supposed to eat, Dub?” She was not feeling that at all.

  “Fee, you trippin’ right now.” C-Dub’s tone became low and solid. “This is all a part of the game. They knew what they were signing up for. You, out of all people, should know you gotta take the bitter with the sweet. So, if they ain’t put nothing up for a thunderstorm or a rainy day, then they either gonna drown, get soaked, and choke, or you gonna throw ’em a life preserver.” C-Dub broke it down clearly. All Kafisa could do was listen attentively as C-Dub went on about the situation.

  “You, Limah, Verne, and Jazz were a crew,” C-Dub pointed out. He caught the look on Kafisa’s face. “What it all boils down to is this.” C-Dub took a deep breath and exhaled. “If they were watching Jazz, and the only people she was ever around if she wasn’t by herself was y’all, who else do you think they had under surveillance during that time? Huh?” he asked.

  As much of a boss as she believed herself to be, at that moment, Kafisa felt like a student getting after-school help, being taught a lesson. All that C-Dub had just said had never crossed her mind. The ironic thing about it was that she had actually gone to school and had learned well the very thing C-Dub had just broken down for her, yet she now seemed clueless about it all. She felt like a rookie, but she refused to come across like one.

  “It’s cool, Dub. I respect the game. I got Limah and Verne.” Her tone was as smooth as baby oil on a baby’s bottom. “Shit, I got enough money to float us until this shit blows over,” she added, with a little chuckle in her voice, although she was dead serious.

  Kafisa’s response was commendable. She had managed to put up high six figures off of what she had made off the work she got from C-Dub throughout the years. Thanks to what her father had taught her, Kafisa had been seeing nearly the same thing C-Dub was off of each kilo of coke and the birds of raw dope she got from him. “Shit, maybe we’ll travel the country until shit cools,” she continued, considering her potential future plans. “Just give me until the end of the week to knock the rest of the shit off I got and then—”

  “Nah, you got until the sun comes up tomorrow to tally up your inventory in your three spots,” C-Dub said, cutting her off. “Anything you got left in any of the houses, you’ll be paid for. This thing is serious, Fee,” he added with conviction.

  Kafisa grimaced. She had taken the situation more lightly than C-Dub had presented it to her. If she hadn’t heard him before, she heard him loud and clear now. Her run in Brooklyn was abruptly coming to a temporary end. It was a hard pill to swallow, but there was nothing Kafisa could do about it. The decision had been made, and she had to abide by it.

  “You’ll have my numbers by the morning.” Kafisa stood up abruptly.

  “Whoa!” C-Dub grabbed her by the wrist. He peered up at her. “You good?”

  Kafisa rolled her eyes before locking eyes with him. “Yeah, I’m good.” She nodded.

  “You sure?” C-Dub was not convinced.

  “I’m good, Dub. I promise.” Kafisa flashed her best smile.

  “Just making sure.” C-Dub matched her smile. He released Kafisa’s wrist. “It’s not forever, Fee. Only for now,” he assured her, trying to ease what little tension lingered in the air.

  “I know.” Kafisa flashed the same smile. “Let me get on top of this shit.”

  C-Dub nodded. Two minutes later he watched as Kafisa hopped into her Range Rover and whipped it wildly into traffic. All he could do was shake his head as he opened the menu at Junior’s.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Hello?” an annoyed Kafisa answered. She had tossed and turned all night. She had managed to doze off only an hour ago, and now her sleep had just been broken by the sound of her cell phone ringing in her ear—which was why she sounded so irritated when she answered the phone.

  “My bad. Did I wake you?” Jameel asked. He had wondered whether eight in the morning was too early to be calling her, but he had done it anyway.

  Kafisa recognized his voice immediately. “Nah, you good. Wassup?” Although she had been fast asleep seconds ago, she was now wide awake.

  “Everything’s todo bien,” Jameel replied, partially in his Colombian mother’s native language. “I was just being a man of my word.”

  “That what’s up. I’m glad you did.”

  “You sure I didn’t wake you up?” Jameel asked, hearing a lot of movement on Kafisa’s end of the phone.

  “It’s cool.” Despite all that was going on in her life right now, she still managed to laugh. She knew she had been busted. “I was supposed to be up anyway,” she admitted.

  “Since you put it that way.” Jameel smiled.

  “Can you give me a minute?”

  “You wanna just call me back?” he asked. He figured she wanted to get the crust out of her eyes and brush her teeth.

  “Ten minutes,” she said. “Or less.”

  “Take your time.” He hung up the phone, hoping she didn’t wake up on the wrong side of the bed.

  After brushing h
er teeth and washing her face, Kafisa was back on the phone with Jameel in less than ten minutes.

  “So where were we?” were the words she was greeted with when he answered the phone.

  “Me counting sheep until you woke me up.”

  The two of them shared a laugh.

  “How long you been up?” Kafisa asked.

  “Since Fajr,” Jameel replied, referring to the Islamic morning prayer.

  “Oh. You still practicing?”

  “Let me put it this way,” he said. “The worst believer is better than the best disbeliever.”

  Kafisa knew what the phrase meant. It was something she had heard her father say when justifying why he was doing what was not right according to his beliefs. “I get it,” Kafisa replied.

  “So how was your beauty rest?” Jameel asked, flirting.

  “Fine,” was all she offered. She didn’t want to let him know that she hadn’t really been able to sleep at all last night and she hadn’t had a good night’s rest in weeks. She switched subjects. “I see you’re still an early bird, huh?”

  “You know what they say. The early bird gets the worm,” he replied.

  “As does the night owl,” Kafisa quipped.

  They shared another laugh. Kafisa was enjoying their exchange. Anything to take my mind off of this bullshit, she thought.

  “So, what made you call?” Kafisa asked, hoping she hadn’t sounded like a bitch.

  “I’m actually on my way back down bottom, and I didn’t want to leave New York without telling you how good it was to see you. And I wanted to say good-bye.” Jameel was being genuine, as corny as he sounded.

  “You’re still in the city?” Kafisa asked. She was surprised to hear that.

  “Yeah. Had to handle some things in Harlem right quick before I hopped on the road,” Jameel answered. “A little later I’ll grab me some lunch from this li’l soul food spot over off One-Twenty-ninth,” Jameel told her, secretly hoping she would join him.

  “I know the one you’re talking about. Jacobs,” Kafisa said, enlightening him. “The food there is bangin’. I ate there a few times. It was bangin’ every time,” Kafisa added, giving the intimate restaurant a rave review.

  “Would you like to join me?” Jameel asked, not letting the opportunity pass him by.

  Kafisa pondered the offer for a moment. She was not really a phone person. She liked to peer into the eyes of an individual when she conversed with him or her. It was a trait she had inherited from her father. “The eyes never lie,” he used to say to her.

  “That sounds doable,” Kafisa replied. “I’m in Brooklyn. Let’s meet up around twelve.”

  “That’s cool. Would you like me to pick you up?” Jameel was being slick. He was trying to see where she was staying.

  A few hours later the two of them were sitting across from each other. Jacobs was busy, as usual, with the rush hour lunch crowd.

  Jameel had arrived first, and surprisingly, he’d been able to lock down two seats for him and Kafisa. When Kafisa pulled up, he admired her beauty as she stepped out of her 2014 Range Rover. Kafisa stepped inside the soul food spot and looked around, in search of Jameel. She heard someone calling her name from somewhere in the back, and she made her way over to him. She couldn’t help but admire how well groomed he was. He could easily be mistaken for an exotic male dancer, she thought.

  They hugged and exchanged smiles. Kafisa nearly melted in his embrace. He wore the same alluring fragrance that had intoxicated her that evening at the Brooklyn nightclub. The bear hug he gave her made Kafisa feel as if she were being smothered with pure love. For a brief moment, she felt safe, and all her problems were nonexistent, but his beard brushing the side of her face brought her back to reality.

  “Bona bonita,” Jameel said as they sat at the table now, complimenting Kafisa on her beauty with an Italian/Spanish saying.

  “Thank you.” He used to say that to her so much that she couldn’t forget both words meant “pretty.”

  “So, what made you take me up on my offer?” Jameel wanted to know. “I mean, I’m not complaining, just asking.”

  “Oh. I . . .” Kafisa smiled again. She couldn’t believe that after all these years he still had the same effect on her.

  After they ordered lunch, the two of them indulged in general conversation, catching up on current events in their lives. Kafisa shared what life had been like for her after college, though she didn’t delve into her current profession. She did, however, disclose how her father had been killed, though she left out the details. Jameel shared how he had gone back to Columbia for a little while to visit with his aunt.

  During this intimate conversation, they found they had more in common than they had known back then, such as the fact that both of them were their parents’ only child. They exchanged views on what that was like. This was the most the two of them had discussed about themselves personally since they had met each other. Their relationship had been strictly sexually oriented. As they continued to converse, surprisingly, Kafisa discovered that Jameel didn’t have any children and was single. Their conversation caused time and their troubles to escape them.

  When they finished eating, Jameel glanced at his watch out of force of habit. “Damn. Time definitely be flyin’ when you having fun,” he blurted out.

  Kafisa blushed. “I know you gotta probably go. I appreciate lunch.” She then thanked him, but she hated to leave. She wanted to get a little closer, honestly. The feeling he gave her had never been forgotten. She thought she needed that after all she’d been going through.

  “My pleasure.”

  “And the conversation,” she added.

  “Another pleasure, fo’ sure.”

  “The next one’s on me, but you gotta come back to New York for it,” Kafisa teased.

  “How about the next one be on me and you come to South Carolina?” Jameel rebutted. He had no way of knowing the type of chain reaction the offer he had just presented jokingly would trigger.

  His comment caused Kafisa to break out into laughter. It was not humorous laughter, though Jameel mistook it for that.

  “What’s so funny?” he wondered aloud.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh like that,” Kafisa said, apologizing. She really hadn’t been laughing at Jameel. It was more like she’d been laughing at herself. Why didn’t I think of this before? she questioned herself.

  Jameel stared at her oddly. “Are you okay?” He could see that she was in deep thought.

  “Yes, I’m cool,” Kafisa assured him.

  Jameel continued to stare at her.

  “Where are you down there?” Kafisa’s question came out of nowhere.

  Something about the way she had asked the question caught Jameel’s attention. For the first time, she didn’t sound like an ex-lover to Jameel. After all, she wanted to know his whereabouts. She sounded more like an opportunist.

  “For the most part, I’m based in the Florence, Hartsville, and Darlington area, but I still dip down to the Columbia area. Plus, I’m in and out of North Carolina and Virginia heavy.” Jameel had a funny feeling that this was the type of information she was asking for. He remembered what Kamil had told him back at the club last night. It just so happened that he had actually found a coke connect, which was the real reason he was in Harlem, but he was curious to see what was on Kafisa’s mind.

  Kafisa’s wheels were turning. I’m not tryin’a go nowhere and ride no nigga’s coattails, she thought to herself. But I know if he’s down there, then there’s definitely money there, because that’s what he’s about. It was apparent she was miles away, although she sat directly across from Jameel.

  “Are you sure you okay?” Jameel asked for a second time, breaking Kafisa’s train of thought.

  “Yeah, I’m straight,” Kafisa answered, returning to reality.

  “So why’d you ask me that question?” Jameel wasted no time asking, as he wanted to get an edge on where she was coming from. It was a big reach, because if
Kafisa was a boss, like everyone said she was, there was no way she would reveal her cards.

  Kafisa was still pondering everything. She quickly weighed the pros and cons before she answered Jameel. “Just curious, that’s all,” she said, downplaying the matter. Were it anybody else, she might have continued to explore her options, but she had too much history with Jameel. Kafisa could tell he still looked at her like she was the young girl he had met at college. For the past two years or so, she had been other people’s boss. The last thing she was trying to do was travel backward and become something less. Her father would come back to haunt her for sure if she ever stepped to a lower level.

  Jameel nodded. Regardless of how many years had passed, he felt he still knew Kafisa well enough to know she wasn’t keeping it one hundred. Not that he really cared; she had her own reasons to keep shit on the low. He had come up top and had found what he was looking for, a connect. So, he didn’t need her help anymore, but he felt it would be nice to have Kafisa by his side while he continued to climb to the top.

  “Okay,” he said. He stood up and extended his arms. “I gotta get on this road.”

  Kafisa stood and stepped into his inviting arms.

  “If you ever change your mind, you got the number now,” he said to Kafisa after releasing her from his grip.

  Kafisa smiled. “I got you.”

  Jameel snatched up his Armani jacket from off the back of the chair. Kafisa watched as he slipped it on and then headed toward the front of the restaurant. After four steps, he stopped in his tracks and turned to face Kafisa. “Oh, I meant to tell you. . . . Remember your ex-roommate?”

  A confused look appeared on Kafisa’s face. She wondered what had made Jameel mention one of her old roommates and ask her such a question. Please don’t tell me someone got a baby by one of them chicks or you fuckin’ with her, thought Kafisa. “Which one?” she asked.

  Jameel detected the sarcasm in her tone. “Relax.” He flashed his signature smirk. “It’s not what you think. I promise. It’s more of a message.”