by Foye, K'wan
“Yo, Ashanti,” Alonzo called after him. “Who the fuck is Kastro?”
Ashanti smirked. “One more topic for tonight’s conversation.” He disappeared into the building.
“Everything okay?” Porsha asked once Ashanti was out of earshot.
“Yeah, everything is cool. Let’s go get something to eat, then I’ll put you in a cab back to your hood.” Alonzo threw his arm around Porsha and led her down the block. On the outside, he was cool and collected, but on the inside, he was filled with uncertainty. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know why the two detectives came through the hood, but the question was, who sent them? Somebody was talking, and there was only a handful of people who knew enough to bury them all, so the list of suspects was a short one. Alonzo had told himself a long time ago that before he let the words of another man put him back in prison he would make sure that the man could no longer speak . . . and it didn’t matter who it was.
THIRTY-SEVEN
SHAI HAD JUST FINISHED DOING THE LAST-MINUTE walk-through and briefing his managers at Daddy’s Kitchen before they opened for the night. They were all professionally trained young men and women and were more than capable of running the place without Shai looking over their shoulders, but it gave him something to take his mind off of everything else that was going on in his life.
Things were always crazy on the streets, but it was starting to spill over into his household. Lately, he noticed that Honey seemed increasingly paranoid and began to question him about his comings and goings, which wasn’t something she had ever done in all the time they’d been together. Shai had been dismissing her fears as the baby growing inside of her playing with her emotions until she mentioned a name that he thought he would never hear again. Animal.
There had been no love lost between Shai Clark and Tech’s protégé, and when Shai had ordered Swann to murder Tech, it drew an imaginary line in the sand and it would only be a matter of time before the upstart crossed it. Shai had contemplated having Animal killed, but somebody beat him to the punch. Word on the streets was that Animal had been abducted by someone off his laundry list of enemies en route to prison and put to death for his crimes against them.
Honey’s sudden interest in a dead man was surprising, to say the least. When he pressed her about it, she came clean about the CD Nickels had been listening to. Shai felt a little better hearing this. For as much as a lowlife as Animal had been, he left a legacy of music that played in ghettos across America, so the CDs were everywhere. He assured Honey that Nickels coming across the CD was a coincidence and that Animal was dead and gone, but when she asked what made him so sure, he didn’t have an honest answer for her. None of his sources had ever reported finding a body or any other traces of Animal after the jail break. It was like he had vanished off the face of the earth. As far as Shai was concerned, it was good riddance to the little nuisance, but the mention of Animal’s name stirred old memories that he had long sought to put to bed.
Then there was the business with Holiday. Against Shai’s advice, he’d gone through with his birthday bash, and to make matters worse, he took Baby Doc with him. As Shai had predicted, somebody showed out, and as a result, Baby Doc lost the hearing in one of his ears and Holiday had almost lost his life, which wouldn’t be worth much when Big Doc caught up with him. Holiday was too hot for Shai to visit in the hospital or speak to on the phone, so Shai had to wait for Swann to come back to get the story of what had actually happened.
When Shai heard the front door of Daddy’s House open, he looked up in anticipation expecting it to be Swann, but his face darkened when two detectives walked in. Angelo stood to block their path, but Shai waved him off.
Detective Brown looked from Angelo to Shai. “Wow, I’m impressed. Did you teach him how to roll over and play dead yet?”
“Fuck you, pig!” Angelo spat.
“Sorry, but you ain’t pretty enough,” Detective Brown winked at him. “Young prince of Harlem, what it do, player?” He extended his hand to Shai to give him dap.
Shai looked at Detective Brown’s hand as if it had been dipped in shit. “What can I do for you, Officers?”
“That’s detectives, and we actually came bearing gifts,” Detective Alvarez told him.
“Sorry, my dad always told me never to take gifts from strangers,” Shai said.
“Looks like your daddy taught you everything except the right things. But who am I to judge?” Detective Brown shrugged. “Getting back to why we came, I hear one of your young boys got done filthy a few nights ago.”
Shai shrugged. “If you say so. I’ve been at home attending to my pregnant fiancée. She’s been on bed rest, so I play it close these days.”
“Yeah, you play it close, and it’s getting closer by the day,” Detective Alvarez lit a cigarette.
“This is a nonsmoking establishment,” Shai told him.
Detective Alvarez took one last pull before throwing the cigarette on the restaurant floor and crushing it under his sneaker. “Shai, everybody knows that boy who got shot at the club is connected to you, and the fact that somebody tried to whack him means whoever you’ve pissed off is working his way up the food chain. First your soldiers, now your lieutenants. Soon, even your capos are gonna have to grow eyes in the backs of their heads.” He looked at Angelo. “We know you feel that noose tightening around your neck, Shai.”
Shai didn’t take the bait. “Anyhow, you said you had something for me?”
“Oh yeah, we did, didn’t we?” Detective Alvarez smirked. He was having a good time making Shai sweat. “I’ve got some good news and bad news for you. The good news is that the guy who tried to clip Holiday got away, so it gives your goons first crack at putting him in the dirt before we can put him in a cell. The bad news is that this wasn’t just some schmuck trying to get a payday. Congratulations, seems like you’ve got a real gangster on your ass now,” the detective announced proudly.
Shai tilted his head quizzically. “You know, if you guys have come down here to try to scare me, then you’re doing a piss-poor job.”
“We haven’t come down here to scare you, Shai. We’ve come to warn you,” Detective Brown told him in his no-nonsense voice. “You’re a scumbag, but we’re still officers of the law, and as such, we have an obligation to warn you that we have reason to believe your life is in serious danger.”
Shai was unmoved. “And this is supposed to be the part when you tell me that you guys are the only ones who can save me, right?”
“You’ve got a knack for stating the obvious, my young friend,” Detective Brown said. “This thing is getting out of hand, and we need to put it to bed. We know somebody is gunning for you, and we’re ninety-nine percent sure of who it is, but we need confirmation from you. Give us a name so we can lock this bastard up, and you can go back to pretending you’re Poppa Clark.”
Shai said nothing for a long moment. He looked over at Angelo. “Did this muthafucka just ask me to rat?” When he turned back to the detectives his face was twisted into a mask of rage. “How fucking dare you disrespect me by asking me to help you put another man in prison! I’m a Clark, and if you don’t know what that means, then I suggest you ask somebody. Now get the fuck outta my establishment before I forget y’all are cops.” Shai turned his back on the detectives and leaned against the bar, where he motioned for the bartender to bring him a drink.
“Did you just threaten a police officer?” Detective Brown pushed his blazer back so that his gun was visible and accessible.
Shai downed the shot in front of him and turned slowly to face the detectives. “That ain’t no threat; it’s some cold hard truth.” He nodded behind the detectives.
The detectives looked around the restaurant. A bus boy who had been pretending to clean off a table near where they were talking was now focused on the detectives. He had both his hands hidden in a bucket that was used to clear dirty dishes, but it didn’t look like there were any plates in it. At that instant, the kitchen door swung open, an
d a female line cook stepped out. She had a towel over her arm, but it did little to hide the bulge beneath it. The manager Shai had been briefing was now standing by the front door. He flipped the sign from open to close and glared at the detectives. Detective Brown started to reach for his pistol, but Alvarez stopped him short. It would’ve been stupid for Shai to make such a brazen move against the detectives, but there was no telling what a man backed into a corner would do.
“Have it your way, Shai.” Detective Alvarez pulled his partner toward the exit, keeping Shai and his employees in his line of sight. “But when the boogeyman comes knocking at your door, don’t dial nine-one-one, because we ain’t gonna answer.”
Just as the detectives were leaving, Swann was coming in. He accidentally bumped into Detective Brown in passing. “Fuck outta my way.” Detective Brown shoved Swann into the door on his way out.
“You did that shit in front of witnesses. I’m suing the department,” Swann taunted the detectives. He laughed and continued inside the restaurant, but when he took one look at the expressions of Shai’s and Angelo’s faces, his smile faded. “What happened? Is everything good?”
“Just these cocksuckers trying to get under my skin as usual.” Shai motioned for the bartender to bring him another drink. “You know they’re fishing for info about what happened at Sin City.”
“Speaking of which, I got the skinny on that from Holiday,” Swann told him.
“Let’s talk outside.” Shai led him from the restaurant and away from prying ears. “What the deal?”
“It’s just like I was trying to tell you; King James made his play,” Swann said.
Shai shook his head, mad at himself because everyone else saw it coming except him. “That piece of shit. I can’t believe he had the balls to try to get at us.”
“Well, believe it, because he did,” Swann told him. “Holiday says it was little Ashanti who King sent after him. You know he been hanging around King James and them like flies on shit. I guess sending him at Holiday was his initiation into their fold.”
“I’m gonna show them a fold when I fold their whole fucking crew. King, Ashanti, . . . All of them niggaz is dead and make it quick.”
“That ain’t all, Shai,” Swann said hesitantly.
There was something about the look on Swann’s face that unnerved him. “What is it?”
“Holiday says that Ashanti wasn’t alone. He says that Animal was with him.”
Shai gave Swann a disbelieving look. “Is Holiday smoking that shit y’all are giving him to sell? Animal is dead.”
“Not according to Holiday. He saw his face and from the description he gave me, it was Animal. Ol’ boy even introduced himself to make sure Holiday knew just who he was.”
The revelation hit Shai like a physical blow. He had tried to tell Honey that she was being paranoid when she brought him up, but obviously, her woman’s intuition was more reliable than his sources on the police force. It would be the last time he ever doubted her. “First, this nobody muthafucka King James gets outta pocket, then he resurrects the dead to do his dirty work. Can this shit get any crazier?”
“It sure can. See, Holiday says that Animal spoke with him before he tried to take his head off, and his part in it has nothing to do with King James,” Swann informed him.
Shai was confused. “Then what the fuck would make him pop up after all these years and start laying people down?”
“A broad. Apparently the girl that idiot Holiday shot in the club awhile back was none other than Animal’s lady, Gucci. He wants the cat who shot her and the man who gave the order.” Swann gave Shai a look.
Suddenly, Shai felt weak. He leaned his back against the restaurant wall and rested his hands on his knees. “But I never told Holiday to shoot that girl. I felt so bad about it that I sent her flowers in the hospital.”
“Try telling that to that crazy li’l muthafucka Animal. This shit has officially gotten out of hand, Shai.”
“The boogeyman has come a-knockin’,” Shai mumbled, thinking back on the detective’s words.
“What?”
Shai dismissed it. “Nothing. We gotta get a handle on this shit ASAP.”
“I’m all over it,” Swann assured him. “I’ve got every available snitch and gun-boy on the streets looking for signs of Animal. I also sent some extra muscle out to the house to make sure the family is safe.”
“Animal is a killer, but an honorable killer. He wouldn’t involve my family in this. He’ll keep it between us.”
“Try telling that to the trail of bodies he’s left all over the city. Better safe than sorry, and when dealing with someone as skilled as Animal, we can’t leave anything to chance. You want me to cancel the card game tonight?”
“No, we can’t do that. We’re playing host to some major players tonight, and there’s gonna be a lot of money floating around. Even some of Gee-Gee’s people are supposed to be showing up. My dad hosted these card games for years, and we’re gonna honor the tradition. If we don’t go through with it, it’ll look suspect. It’s bad enough that everybody and they mamas seem to wanna test us, so we don’t need to raise anymore doubt over our control of the streets.”
“Shai, fuck what people think. This is about your safety. You ain’t the prince no more; you’re the king, and protecting you is priority number one.”
“I respect what you’re saying, Swann, but we have to keep up appearances. A Clark has played host to these card games for the past twenty years, and we’re going to hold on to that tradition.”
“Then let me host it for you. As your underboss, I can speak for the Clark family, and no one will question it,” Swann suggested.
Shai wanted to argue the point, but he knew Swann was right. For as long as Animal was running around loose, he couldn’t truly breathe easy. “You’re a good soldier, Swann, and a better friend.”
“You know how we do; from the cradle to the grave, baby boy.” Swann gave him dap. “I’ll take care of the game, and Angelo can hold you down in my absence.”
“A’ight, get everything in order. I’ll have Angelo get some guys on the job with this situation with these street monkeys. We’re gonna dead Animal, then King James.”
Swann nodded. “King James should be easy enough to track down. Niggaz like him don’t know nothing outside the projects. Finding Animal is gonna be a little harder.”
“Which is why we’re gonna make him come to us.”
“And how do you plan to do that?”
“The most obvious way, of course. I’m gonna send some of our people to pay a visit to his girlfriend in the hospital. Let’s sprinkle a little blood in the water and see if we can catch a shark,” Shai smiled wickedly.
THIRTY-EIGHT
THERE WAS BLOOD EVERYWHERE. THE ONCE-WHITE TILED walls of the motel bathroom were now crimson and smeared. In the small bedroom area beyond, two men decorated the floor, marinating in pools of their own blood and intestines. The promise of riches convinced them that they were killers, but the hot touch of lead piercing soft flesh told them the truth. They were collateral damage, but the man held captive in the bathroom was the prize.
Money Mike was slumped in the corner with his arms suspended over his head, chained over the shower curtain rod and as naked as the day he was born. His face was badly bruised, and his eye had swollen shut on the first hit. Two of his teeth were broken, and the inside of his lip was cut so deeply that he knew he would need stitches. He was in a bad way, and the cause for it was standing mere feet away from him.
Animal paced back and forth in the small bathroom like a caged dog. His chest heaved up and down from the cigarettes he’d taken to smoking, cutting off his wind. The white tank top he’d stripped down to before he started in on Money Mike was now an off-shade of pink and soaked. From wrists to knuckles, both of his hands were wrapped in bicycle chains, which dripped blood onto the floor. Before using the chains on Money Mike, he’d pretreated them in bleach so that every time one of the chained blows opene
d a wound on his victim, it would burn like he’d been doused with acid. It was a brutal, yet affective, method of interrogation, and the subjects never lasted more than eight minutes. Money Mike was on minute seven.
Money Mike was a low-life hustler who had survived years in the game by always making himself appear to be too insignificant to be considered a threat, but a select few knew different. He dealt in something more dangerous than guns or drugs. He dealt in information. He hadn’t been on Animal’s shit list, or even on his radar, until he became a means to an end.
Against his better judgment and Ashanti’s protests, Animal had reached out to Money Mike. They’d done business in the past, and though Mike might not have been the most savory cat, Animal always remembered him to be honorable, but things were different now. Money Mike had grown in status, and Animal had a price on his head. Animal had dealt with Money Mike in the past, and the two had done good business, but when Animal arrived at the motel in Elizabeth, N.J., where Mike had set up the meeting, he realized how much time and greed had changed things. Instead of providing Animal with the information he was paying for, Money Mike decided he wanted to try to collect the bounty on Animal.
The goons were amateurs. They didn’t even wait for Animal to get into the motel room fully before they jumped the gun and tried to take him down. By the time the lead goon could finish the movie line he was reciting from Carlito’s Way, Animal had drawn his Pretty Bitches and gave him two to the chest. By the time the second goon had even gotten the idea in his head to pop off, Animal already had one of the rose-chrome Glocks placed snuggly under his chin. The second goon made eye contact with Animal. The last thing he saw was Animal turn his face away so blood wouldn’t splash in it when he blew the top of the goon’s skull off.
Money Mike tried to break for the door, but he was stopped by one of Animal’s Glocks being jammed roughly into the side of his jaw.