by Foye, K'wan
Shai continued to ignore the cameras and walked Honey to the entrance, with Angelo, Swann, and Holiday in tow. Looking like a gray dot in the middle of the black-clad security guards was Sol Lansky, an old friend and business partner of the late Poppa. He had once sat at the table as Poppa Clark’s advisor, and now he whispered into Shai’s ear. The gray-haired old man gave Shai a proud smile, the tension immediately drained from Shai’s chest, and he was ready to address the crowd. Shai raised his hands for silence and the clambering people quieted like the president was about to give the State of the Union address. He might not have been the president, but in Harlem, he had just as much power, because he was the boss.
“God is good all the time,” Shai began in his silky voice.
“And all the time God is good,” the crowd responded accordingly. Poppa Clark had always taught him that if he wanted to get a room full of people’s attention, then start with something religious because if they tried to ignore you, that would feel like they were blaspheming. When Poppa had first said this to him, he thought that his old man was out of his mind, but over the years, he learned that Poppa was right more than he was wrong.
“I would like to take this time to welcome you all to the latest piece of the Clark empire.” Shai waved his hand, and the tarp was snatched away to reveal the chic restaurant that had been hiding beneath. “Daddy’s Kitchen!”
Shai was immediately met with applause and whistles. Daddy’s Kitchen was a decent-sized establishment, but what it lacked in size it more than made up for in swag. There was a large two-way glass with the words Daddy’s Kitchen scrawled across it in gold letters. The two-way glass is so that people who valued their privacy could enjoy a nice meal without worrying about prying eyes, while still enjoying the view of the neighborhood. The spot would surely attract the cream of the socialite and underworlds, but it was also open to the people of the neighborhood. Daddy’s Kitchen was a place where regular folks could mingle with stars on a level playing field. All were welcome at Daddy’s Kitchen.
“This has been a long time coming,” Shai continued, “and it was no easy road we took to see it happen. When my father first brought the idea to the table of putting money into rebuilding Harlem, everybody thought that he was crazy. They said that the glory days of Harlem had come and gone and that it would be a waste of time and money to bother with it. As we stand here tonight on this special occasion in the midst of Internet cafés, less than two blocks from the prestigious Colombia University, I guess we see who was right in that debate.”
The crowd laughed.
“Tonight is a special occasion, but it is only the first in a string of many occasions such as this because we’re not gonna stop here. I intend to keep putting money into the neighborhoods that I grew up to love so much until we restore the glory of Harlem, where we looked out for each other and keep the money in our own neighborhoods. I intend to show the naysayers that the people who were born, raised, and live in these neighborhoods have just as much right to make their fortunes in them, if not more so, than the people who are only here to make money off it. After all, that is the American dream, isn’t it?”
The crowd went crazy, as he had hoped they would after the well rehearsed speech. After a few more words of thanks to those who had helped to make it possible, Shai cut the ribbon and officially opened Daddy’s Kitchen to the public.
“Bravo, sweet prince.” Sol clapped his hands, coming over to congratulate Shai. Everyone else had gone inside except Shai and a few of his team. “Kid, you know if you ever decide to get outta the life, you’d have a bright future in politics.”
Shai smirked. “Thanks, but no thanks. I do my best work out here among my people.”
“Indeed you do,” Sol agreed. “Shai, over the years I’ve seen you put legitimate dollars in quite a few pockets, and I’m proud of your progress, and you know without me saying that Poppa would’ve damn sure been proud of you.”
“Thanks, Sol, that’s big coming from you.”
“Yo, I can’t even front; this shit is fly!” Holiday cut in. “Man, I seen some bad bitches roll up in here that I need to get at.”
“You will mind your manners and do your job. We’re here to work and not chase bitches, as you love to call them,” Angelo told him sternly.
Holiday twisted his lips. “Angelo, you need to loosen up and stop being so stiff.”
“Better to be stiff in the streets than stiff in the dirt, and you’d do well to remember that, li’l nigga,” Angelo shot back. He had served during the reign of three different bosses in the Clark family and was one of the few left from the original regime. He had seen some twisted things in his days, so Angelo was always waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Whatever.”
A brown Buick pulled up alongside Shai’s limo, boxing it in. Before they even got out of the tinted bucket, Shai and his whole crew knew who they would see. Alvarez and Brown hopped out of the whip, walking with a swagger that said they owned the night, but everyone knew who it really belonged to, which was part of the reason the detectives hated Shai so much. The limo driver rolled his window down to let the detectives know he couldn’t move out of the parking spot, but they ignored him and headed straight for Shai.
“Well, well, if it ain’t Cagney and Lacey.” Holiday stepped between Shai and the detectives. He gave them a look that said exactly how he felt about them.
Detective Alvarez smirked and shook his head.
“What the fuck is so funny?” Holiday asked.
“The fact that you’re too stupid to be afraid of us,” Alvarez told him seriously. “You know, one of these days they might find you slumped in an alley behind that big-ass mouth of yours.”
“Yeah, but I’ll bet when they find me they’ll find at least three niggaz that I took with me too.”
“You really wanna do this here?” Alvarez asked. His eyes said he was ready to go there, but so did Holiday’s.
“We can do it anywhere you want,” Holiday matched his tone.
Angelo stepped over and pulled Holiday away. “Know how to pick your battles,” he whispered in Holiday’s ear as he positioned himself between him and the detective. “How can we help you, gentlemen?”
“What’s up, Angie? Been awhile since I last saw you,” Brown said addressing Angelo by his nickname.
Angelo shrugged. “My lady thinks that police contact is bad for my health.”
“Your lady is very wise,” Brown told him. The detective didn’t like Angelo, but he respected him. He was an old-school hustler and understood the unspoken rules of conduct between the law and the lawless. “We just need to have a few words with your boss.” He looked over at Shai.
Angelo looked over his shoulder at Shai, who was making his way toward them with Sol and Swann in tow. Shai placed a hand on Angelo’s shoulder letting him know that it was okay.
“What up?” Shai asked, not bothering to hide his irritation with the detectives.
“Not much. Just came to have a short chat with you,” Detective Brown told him.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea without his legal representation present,” Sol spoke up. He looked down at his watch. “Mr. Scott should be here shortly if you gentlemen care to wait.” Sol was referring to Scotty, Poppa Clark’s one-time protégé and current legal counsel and coconsigliore to the family.
“That won’t be necessary. This is a social call, not business,” Detective Brown said, tapping the manila envelope he was carrying against his leg. It made him smile to see how Shai’s eyes kept cutting to the envelope, wondering what was in it.
“Speak and be gone. I got people waiting on me,” Shai said shortly.
“So I see.” Alvarez craned his neck to see inside of Daddy’s Kitchen. “This your new spot, Shai?”
“Something like that. Does the grand opening have anything to do with why you’re here?”
“Nah, man, I was just wondering how the pork chops were in this joint. I might wanna bring a couple of the f
ellas from the department here for dinner,” Alvarez said sarcastically.
“This ain’t your kinda spot. We don’t serve or allow pork, but there’s a Dunkin’ Donuts not too far from here.”
Detective Alvarez laughed. “You’re a funny guy, almost as funny as Tommy Gunz. Speaking of big bro, how is he? I haven’t seen him around much lately.”
“Tommy is good.”
“Glad to hear it. You know Tommy Gunz was one of the last stand-up guys out here, no pun intended,” Alvarez said with a cunning smile. A few years earlier Tommy had been paralyzed in the shooting that claimed his father’s life and had since been confined to a wheelchair. Alvarez knew he was hitting below the belt with that statement, and so did everyone else.
Shai took a step toward the detective, fist balled and ready to pop off. Sol placed a calming hand on his arm and gave him a slight squeeze. Shai didn’t go any further, but he stared daggers at the detective.
“If you’ve got something to say, then say it; if not, get the fuck from around my establishment before I have you brought up on harassment charges,” Shai said through clenched teeth.
Detective Brown chuckled. “That shit sounds good, but we know people like you don’t talk to the police . . . at least not all of you.” He let his eyes sweep Shai’s soldiers accusingly. “Anyhow, we’ve had our fun, so now let’s cut the bullshit and get to the point of why we’re here. Word on the streets is that you’ve got a problem, Shai.”
Now, it was Shai’s turn to chuckle. “Nah, I ain’t got no problems. Everybody loves the Clarks. I’m afraid you boys are getting bad information.”
“Yeah, maybe if you paid your informants a li’l more for their souls they’d do their jobs properly,” Swann added.
“If I were you, I wouldn’t be so quick to make jokes, Swann. We hear your name is still on somebody’s piece of paper for what you did to Tech. Word has it you’re number one on the Blood Hit Parade,” Brown said slyly.
Swann shrugged. “I don’t know nothing about no Bloods, and I don’t know anybody named Tech.”
Detective Brown sneered. “So you say, but the hood is saying otherwise. We all know Tech was a piece of shit. Hell, that whole bastard clan from Jah down to Ashanti have all been rotten from the inside out, but the streets love a degenerate like that. Tech was a man of respect, and he got done dirty. Right now, the only thing that’s keeping you off the front page of the Daily News is the fact that you’re Shai’s number-one hand job. If the Clarks ever decide to lift that veil of protection, it’s over for you, Blood,” Brown said sarcastically.
“Whatever, nigga. I told you I don’t know nobody named Tech,” Swann said, trying to keep his voice steady, but Detective Brown was getting under his skin.
Brown shrugged. “Just the same, I’d grow eyes in the back of my head if I were you. Now, back to what I was saying.” He turned to Shai. “Shai, I think we all know that there is a laundry list of people who don’t like the way you’re running your father’s organization and would love to see you crushed by the shadow you’ve been living in. They’re saying that your reign as king is over, and it’s time for some fresh blood,” Brown taunted him.
Shai waved him off. “If all you’ve come here to do is tell me a bunch of shit that people are saying, then we ain’t got nothing to talk about. You gentlemen have a good night.” Shai turned to walk away, but the picture Detective Brown pulled from the envelope and tossed at his feet made him pause. He looked down at the picture of a man and woman in a car riddled with bullets and turned to look at Detective Brown.
“I thought that would get your attention.” Brown pulled the rest of the pictures from the envelope. “That was Willie Jones and his girlfriend. They were murdered leaving a baby shower.” He tossed another picture at Shai’s feet. This one was of a young man who was missing one side of his face. “We found him in an abandoned drug house. His mama had to give him a closed casket funeral. And this is one of my personal favorites.” Brown held up the picture of Slick’s mutilated face. “Poor bastard left behind a child and a grieving mother. The killer left a little note for you too.” He pointed out the word carved into Slick’s forehead.
“Fuck does any of this have to do with me?” Shai turned away from the picture.
“It has everything to do with you, baby boy.” Brown tapped Shai in the chest with the picture. “All of these stiffs lead back to you. At one point or another, all of these guys worked for the Clark family.”
“Unless you’ve got a paycheck issued to one of these men from one of our companies you can’t prove that,” Shai said dismissively.
Detective Alvarez’s cheek twitched at Shai’s arrogance. He wanted to slap the young man, but he knew the game that he and his partner were playing was hurting Shai more than his hands could. “We may not be able to prove it, but we all know there’s truth in what my partner is saying. Since being coy about it ain’t getting us nowhere, let’s be frank, shall we? Shai, I don’t give a fuck about your ex-stripper girlfriend or the faggot with the ponytail standing at your side like he wanna do something.” He jabbed his finger at Swann. “I ain’t got a problem with a nigga putting two in ya head, because that’s probably the only thing that is gonna knock some sense into it, but it becomes a problem when it happens on my streets and innocent people are placed in danger, all because you dickheads wanna make movies in the streets. We ain’t having it, Shai, not from you or anybody else in this city. You wanna kill each other, take it to New Jersey. New York is off-limits, and I’m willing to go the extra mile to keep it that way, feel me?”
“Nah, I don’t feel you,” Shai said. “I don’t feel you coming out here fucking with my groove, nor do I feel you fucking with my time over some murders that ain’t got nothing to do with me. You talking fantasies right now, my nigga. If you wanna sell stories, get yourself a Facebook page and a graphic designer to put ‘bestseller’ on the cover,” Shai mocked him. “Whoever did this is a slum nigga, and you know that ain’t never been my style. I’m a businessman, and when I took over this family, all illicit dealings were shut down. Now do you feel me?”
“Shai, we didn’t come here to argue or embarrass you on your special night, so let’s not make it more than what it is. All we want is a name and a reason so we can shut this down before more blood is spilled.” Detective Brown tried to sound sympathetic.
Shai looked him square in the eyes. “I’m afraid I can’t help you. Good night, gentlemen.”
“G-code, huh?” Alvarez asked Shai.
“Live by it, die by it,” Swann answered for him.
“If y’all like it, we love it,” Brown said, “but Shai, I’d like to leave you with a little something to think on, if I may.” Shai’s face remained unchanged, so Brown continued. “Whoever is going at you don’t give too much of a fuck about what your last name is and is going out of their way to let you know as much. It’s one thing to play war from a distance, but it becomes a whole different animal when the feud spills over into your neighborhood and eventually starts to soil your doormat. This is the part of the game that your daddy couldn’t teach you, but I guarantee the streets will if you don’t wise up. Y’all have a good night.” Brown started back for the Buick. Alvarez gave Shai and his crew the once-over before following his partner.
“You gentlemen have forgotten your pictures,” Sol called after them, referring to the graphic photos that were still lying on the ground in front of the restaurant.
Detective Alvarez ignored him and got back in the passenger seat, slamming the door firmly behind him. Detective Brown paused and addressed Sol. “Nah, you guys keep them. We’ve got plenty more at the station.” He paused. “Mr. Lansky, you’ve been around the block a few times. If you love Shai like you profess to, then talk to him and let him know what time it really is before he makes it to our collection of photographs.” Brown got behind the wheel of the Buick and peeled off.
Just as the detectives were pulling off, Scotty was hopping out of a taxi in front Daddy’s
Kitchen. He was wearing a simple black V-neck sweater under a cream-colored blazer. Chugging along behind him was a thick Spanish chick, who was wearing a dress that was so tight you didn’t have to wonder what her intentions were for the night. Scotty was smiling from ear to ear because he couldn’t wait to come through the event sporting the porn star, but the smile faded when he saw the Buick pulling off and the look on Shai’s face. In less than three seconds his demeanor changed, and he went from homeboy to consigliore. He whispered for the porn star to meet him inside and walked over to see what was good with his friend.
“Was that who I think it was?” Scotty asked, giving Shai dap and nodding in salute to the others.
“Yeah,” Shai said, still staring out into traffic. He was so mad that he felt one of his fillings shift when he flexed his jaw. Shai had worked his ass off to clean up the Clark image and gain the support of the people who made the world go round, and the detectives tried to throw a monkey wrench in it by showing up there. People with power generally had secrets, and seeing him being accosted by the police might make some of them skittish.
Scotty noticed the pictures on the floor at Shai’s feet and frowned. He scooped the pictures up and flipped through them. “Take these shits somewhere and burn them,” he told Holiday, passing him the pictures. “Shai, what did them two dicks want?”
Shai dismissed it. “They ain’t want shit, just fishing as usual.”
Scotty screwed his face. “My nigga, pictures of dead bodies at your feet on one of the biggest nights of your life don’t look like fishing. Somebody tell me what the fuck is going on,” he said, looking at all the men assembled.
“They’re saying that somebody murked them cats in the pictures to send a message to Shai,” Angelo spoke in a hushed tone.
“Did they say who?” Scotty asked.
“That’s what they came to ask us.”