by K'wan
“Bless you, my son.” Priest gave him a phony smile and stepped into the diner. The man he had come to see wasn’t hard to find. His was the only booth flanked by minions who looked every bit of the hired guns they were, dressed in off-the-rack suits and wearing sunglasses indoors. The man they were protecting sat at the rear of the booth, facing the door. He was dressed in a white collared shirt, with a salmon-colored blazer and blue jeans. He was joined by two other people. A woman, who had her back to him, and a young light-skinned man with dusty brown hair. When the man in the salmon blazer spotted Priest, he motioned for him to come over.
“Thanks for coming.” Shai Clark stood and greeted Priest with a handshake and a smile. He was a handsome man, with a baby face and joyful eyes. Shai looked more like a college kid than a ruthless crime boss who controlled the New York City underworld.
“You call, and I come, that’s the way it works, right?” Priest said with a smirk. “I thought this was a private meeting.” He glanced from the young man to the woman at the table. She was older than Priest but had the body of a woman half her age. Her skin was smooth and dark, in contrast to her silver hair, which she wore up in an elegant bun. The green skirt suit she wore fit her body perfectly, no doubt tailored to fit. Around her neck, she wore a string of white pearls. When her dark eyes glanced up at Priest, her red-painted lips parted into a smile that said she had a secret that she couldn’t wait to tell. For all intents and purposes, she was the picture of someone’s loving grandmother, but those who knew her knew better.
“No worries. This is a friend of ours. I’d like to introduce you to—”
“Who in the underworld doesn’t know Machine Gun Ma Savage?” Priest cut him off.
Ma smiled, showing off two perfect rows of white teeth, one capped by a gold crown. “Machine Gun Ma is only for niggers I plan on killing or nosy reporters. It’s just Ma to my friends. Are we friends these days, or do you still wanna lock ass over that lil’ misunderstanding we had back in 1982, Tay?”
Priest stiffened at her use of a name he had buried when he first donned the black robe. “I prefer Priest, and yes, I’d say we’re friends these days, Ma. The past is the past.”
“That’s good to know, because you never can tell with members of y’all’s clan. I swear I could never figure out how a bunch of muthafuckas as pretty as you all are could be so deadly. I’m still holding on to the hope that one of my boys gets accepted into your little club.” Ma gave him a wink.
Shai was surprised. “You two know each other.” He looked from Priest to Ma Savage.
Ma cackled. “Of course we do. Me and old Priest got history, don’t we?”
“Indeed we do,” Priest said in a less-than-pleasant tone.
“Ma, is this the old nigga you always going on about?” The light-skinned young man spoke up. “Shit, he don’t look like much to me.”
Ma Savage slapped him upside the head with her purse. “You mind your damn manners, Bug Savage. Excuse my youngest boy. Sometimes he lets his ass speak for his mouth. How you been, Priest?”
“I’ve been better, but I’m alive, so I can’t complain,” Priest said with a shrug. “How’re the kids?”
“Still ornery as ever. Big John is finishing up a dime in a fed joint somewhere in Illinois, so Dickey and Maxine have been handling the business. I got no idea where Mad Dog is these days. He comes and goes as he sees fit, and most of the time, he’s got the law a few steps behind him.”
“Same old Mad Dog.” Priest shook his head. Even as a kid, Mad Dog had been the wildest of the Savage boys. He had no understanding of right or wrong. He was like an animal and moved off instincts rather than rational thought. “And Killer?” he asked of the forth-oldest Savage boy.
“Killer goes by Keith these days,” Ma told him. “My delusional son has abandoned his evil ways and is working for the other side now. He just graduated law school. Can you imagine a Savage working on the wrong side of the damn law? His daddy is probably turning over in his grave right now over that blasphemous shit!” She spit on the floor, drawing some less-than-pleasant stares from the people eating at the next table. “I don’t bother with him, but he speaks to Maxine and Dickey pretty regularly. Outside of that, he keeps his distance, and that’s fine by me. Whether I pushed ’em out my pussy or not, I got no care or no time for ungrateful kids. You know how many muthafuckas I done shot to keep food in his prissy-ass mouth, and this is how he repays me, by leaving his poor old mom and siblings to fend for themselves while he’s out trying to save a world that don’t wanna be saved? He prances around rubbing shoulders with his new white friends, like his last name ain’t Savage same as the rest of us. Let’s see how friendly them crackers would be if they knew his education was paid for with blood money.” She cackled. “A walking contradiction, that Killer is.”
Priest nodded in understanding. “He always was a bit different from the rest.” He reflected on the man formerly known as Killer. Keith had always been the quiet one, who kept his head buried in books. He was docile in contrast to his brothers, but when provoked, he was one of the most dangerous of the Savage boys.
Ma placed her hand on the light-skinned young man’s shoulder. “And of course, you met my youngest, Fire Bug. We call him Bug for short.”
Priest studied the young man. He didn’t look to be much older than sixteen or seventeen. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking about getting into the family business, too?”
“I’m the future of the family business,” Bug said proudly.
Ma hit him in the head with the purse again. “You ain’t the future of shit just yet, Bug Savage. My word is still law in the Savage household. Now, why don’t you take your pyromaniac ass outside and try not to set anything on fire while we’re in here finishing up our business?”
“But Ma—” Bug began, but Ma’s glare cut his words off. “A’ight.” He got up from the booth. “It was nice meeting you, Mr. Clark. And we’ll make sure that business gets handled for you.” He shook Shai’s hand. On his way out, he looked up at Priest. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but he wisely kept his mouth closed and kept walking.
“You’ll have to excuse him,” Ma began once Bug had gone. “He’s the baby, so I keep him close to me, but unfortunately, he’s picked up some bad habits, same as the rest of my boys. Bug’s smart like Keith and got more heart than Mad Dog did at his age. I can’t count how many times I tried to turn Bug off to this lifestyle, but he’s got that Savage blood in him. If he insists on playing the game, all I can do is show him how to win.”
“Sometimes all we can do is make sure they’re the best at what they do, even if it isn’t right,” Priest agreed.
“Right on.” Ma nodded. “How’s that pretty boy of yours?”
Priest felt his heart skip but didn’t miss a beat when he answered. “Dead. He was killed a while back.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ma said sincerely. “You know, I always hoped that he and Maxine would hook up one day. That marriage there would make our families mighty damn powerful out here.”
“I never knew you had a kid, Priest,” Shai interrupted.
“That’s because you were probably too young to remember. You boys spent some time together while your fathers were talking business,” Priest said with a wink.
Shai thought back. Poppa had never allowed very many around his children, so Shai’s play dates were few and far between. He vaguely remembered during one of Priest’s late night visits to the Clark estate there having been a kid with him. The reason it stuck out was one of the very few times that Poppa had allowed him to stay up late, eating candy and watching movies. Shai didn’t remember much about the kid other than the fact that he had very sad eyes. Poppa had taught him from an early age how to read people’s eyes to get a sense of who they were, and it was obvious, even to young Shai that the little boy with Priest had been through some terrible things. With a father like Priest, it was no wonder. Shai had shared his toys with the boy and it seemed to
cheer him up, but the sadness in his eyes remained. Shai wanted to ask Priest how the boy had died, but the question would’ve been disrespectful, especially in front of outsiders, so he didn’t press it further.
“Let me get going, before Bug gets restless and tries to set something on fire. It was good seeing you.” Ma gave Priest a hug. “Shai”—she turned to him—“don’t you worry none about that piece of business, either. My Fire Bug is disrespectful and a little anxious, but he’s good at what he does.”
“You know your word is as good as gold, Ma. Thanks for meeting with me, and take care.” Shai gave her a hug.
“All right, now, and give my regards to Tommy Gunz.” Ma waved and left the diner.
Priest waited until he had watched Ma and Bug get into their SUV and pull off before speaking. “If you’re meeting with the Savage family, it could only mean somebody is about to die. If you’re meeting with Ma Savage, it must be somebody important. Is everything OK, Shai?”
“Yeah, everything is good, Priest. Sit down.” Shai motioned toward the seat Ma had just vacated. Once Priest was seated, Shai sat back down. He leaned in to whisper so that only Priest could hear what he was about to say. “I needed to make someone vanish, but it had to be done by someone who has no affiliation with me or this family. So I outsourced.”
Priest felt slighted by the fact that Shai hadn’t come to him to take the contract, but he didn’t show it. “Where’s your shadow?”
“Swann? In the streets with it, like he always is. A few of our people got hit up on some bullshit. I swear these lil’ niggaz are forgetting their places.”
“Any idea who did the deed?” Priest asked.
“From the viciousness of the hit, I’d say it was Animal, but we all know he’s dead, right?” Shai watched Priest’s face for a reaction.
“Dead and stinking,” Priest lied with a straight face.
Shai nodded in approval. “Word on the streets is that it was one of King James’s people. You know he’s got all these little niggaz thinking they’re superheroes.”
“Speaking of King James, when are you finally gonna put that rabid dog to sleep?” Priest asked, happy to change the subject.
“That nigga on borrowed time. When I take him out, I wanna do it in grand style for the whole hood to see. They gonna respect the Clark name,” Shai declared.
“Shai, let me tell you a story. Years ago, there was another little nigga with a chip on his shoulder named K-Dawg. Like King James, he had big ideas, too. Everybody ignored K-Dawg, because his crew was too small to pose a legitimate threat, but they realized their errors when K-Dawg and his crew staged a mutiny and whacked out several of the old bosses. They damn near took over this whole city, because they were underestimated. If you want my advice, I’d say let me put King James to sleep for you immediately.”
“I hear you, Priest, but I didn’t call you out here for your advice. I need your services,” Shai told him. “A friend of ours has called in a favor.”
Priest didn’t need Shai to speak the name to know whom he meant. A friend of ours meant Mr. Gee, a.k.a. Gee-Gee, acting boss of the Cissero crime family. He had been a business associate of Poppa Clark’s, and when the mantle was passed to Shai, he kept the lines of business open, albeit grudgingly. “And what is it that our little balding friend wants?”
Shai gave a look around as if he expected someone to be eavesdropping. “There’s this smuggler, they call him the Little Guy. He’s connected to just about every crime faction in the United States and a few outside the country. His connections with the unions make him the man you see if you want something moved from point A to point B with no questions asked. From drugs to immigrant whores, he can move it. The Little Guy was the darling of all the crime families until the dumb fuck got himself pinched in some slum-ass motel room for kicking the shit out of a junkie whore and in possession of enough blow to cater a small party. It ain’t looking good for him, and our friends are concerned about what the Little Guy might be willing to do for his freedom.”
“How much does he know?” Priest asked.
“He knows enough to topple the whole house of cards. The Little Guy has shaken some very important hands.”
Priest clasped his hands in front of him on the table and thumbed his gold rosary while he weighed the situation. “Can you remind me again why we give a fuck about some snitch turning state’s on the Italians? The last time I checked, none of those pasta-eating bastards were Clarks.”
“Italians aren’t the only ones the Little Guy has dirt on,” Shai said.
Priest didn’t need to ask who else the Little Guy had dirt on. The look on Shai’s face said it all. “What happened to cleaning up the Clark backyard and not creating new legal troubles?”
“I didn’t create this problem, Priest. I inherited it. The Little Guy’s arrangement with the Clarks goes back to before I was born, so I kept doing business with him when I took over,” Shai explained.
“You don’t have to say any more. I’ll take care of it, Shai. Dead men tell no tales.” Priest said. He stood to leave, but Shai had some parting instructions.
“A man who would betray his friends is the lowest form of human being. His death should reflect that. I don’t just want his life, Priest. I want that rat fuck’s cheese-stained tongue!”
THREE
ABOVE THE CHURCH WAS A small kitchenette apartment. It was sparsely furnished, with only a sofa bed, a radio, and a wooden table with a laptop resting on it. The paint was peeling, and the carpet smelled slightly like mold. It was a far cry from their house in Houston, but Animal and Gucci would have to make do, seeing as how it would be their new home until Priest said otherwise.
Animal had finally calmed down enough for Kahllah to free him and reset his arm. Popping it back into place hurt more than when Priest had dislocated it. Kahllah had expected Animal to try to escape, but he didn’t. He was still angry, but he stewed in silence. When Kahllah looked into his eyes, he seemed drained. Not so much physically tired, but his soul seemed drained. He moved as if he was in a daze, while she handed him some fresh clothes and directed him to the bathroom where he could clean himself up a bit.
While Animal showered, Gucci and Kahllah sized each other up from opposite sides of the room. Gucci wasn’t sure how to feel about Kahllah. When Priest had first brought them there, it was Kahllah who tended her wounds and tried to comfort her while they waited for Animal to regain consciousness. It was almost like they were girlfriends, but her demeanor changed whenever Priest was around. She became withdrawn and cold, more like a solider. She didn’t understand what kind of strange hold Priest had on the girl or how she played into everything.
“For as long as I’ve known Animal, he never mentioned having a sister,” Gucci said, breaking the silence.
“Because he didn’t know about me,” Kahllah replied.
“But you knew about him?” Gucci asked.
Kahllah weighed it before responding. “Not at first. I only learned of Animal when he made the news a few years back for killing all those people. Since then, Priest and I have been watching him from a distance, measuring him to see if he was worthy.”
“Worthy of what?” Gucci asked.
“That’s none of your concern,” Kahllah said.
“If you’ve been watching him all these years, I’m sure you know what he’s been through. Why not come to him sooner?” Gucci asked.
“For the same reason a man sees a woman being abused by her husband on the street but keeps walking. It wasn’t my business,” Kahllah explained.
Gucci’s facial expression betrayed the disgust in her heart at Kahllah’s statement. “Not your business? That’s your brother!”
“Tayshawn and I are siblings in name only,” Kahllah said.
Gucci was confused. “But I heard Priest refer to you as his daughter, so I thought––”
“No, he’s Animal’s biological father, not mine. My parents were killed when I was very young, and Priest adopted me, so to sp
eak. He’s responsible for the woman I am today.”
Gucci shook her head. “This is some country we live in, where decent folks can’t adopt kids, but they give little girls to killers.”
Kahllah laughed. “Don’t be so quick to pat your government on the back and condemn my father until you know the whole story. I was born just outside East Kalimantan, Indonesia, to a dirt-poor family. My mother was a native, my father a black man from the States. I never got to know either of them very well. Cancer took my mom when I was six, and a burglar took my dad when I was nine. For the next few years, I wandered the countryside, stealing when I could and starving when I couldn’t. I thought starvation was the worst pain imaginable, until I found myself passed through a network of slave traders. Do you know what slave traders do to pretty young virgins? Sometimes they would go one at a time, and other times they would have their way with me in groups. They call it conditioning, but rape by any other name is still rape. They broke me, body and soul.”
“I’m sorry,” Gucci said sincerely.
“Don’t be sorry for me, Gucci. Be sorry for the little girls who weren’t fortunate enough to make it out. I offer up a prayer for them every morning.”
“So Priest bought you?” Gucci asked.
“No, he took me. I had been purchased by a man and taken to Africa, where he kept me as a servant and sometimes a bedmate. To this day, I shudder when I think of the things he did to me. Fortunately for me, the man who owned me had offended a very powerful man. For his offense, the man sent Priest to claim my owner’s life. Priest killed my owner’s family and everyone else who was in the house at the time, but he spared me. To this day, I don’t know why, and I don’t care. All I know is that he took me out of that hell and gave me a home, an education, and a purpose. He was my salvation.”
Gucci shook her head. “I never would’ve thought a man like Priest was capable of compassion.”
“Some might say the same thing about Animal,” Kahllah countered. “They are both murderers, are they not? Yet we love them unconditionally, because, unlike those who fear them, we know that death is not the sum total of who they are. They are lovers, fathers, sons, and protectors.”