The Streets Have No King

by JaQuavis Coleman

  “It’s on you, huh? You grew up, didn’t you? You got plugged and stopped fuckin with li’l ol’ me,” Boone said, jealousy oozing out of him. He couldn’t hide it. He continued, “Didn’t know this was your piece,” Boone said as he looked over at Moriah, now standing next to her friend.

  “Nah, it ain’t like that. I know her people, though,” Basil stated as he crossed his arms and stood there ready for whatever came his way. Boone stepped closer to Basil. He saw an opportunity to get in on Basil’s operation. He had been hearing through the streets that Kane had plugged him with the Cartel and Boone wanted in.

  “I been trying to bump into you anyway. Heard you plugged in. Put me on. Don’t hog the plug. Remember what I did for you,” Boone said smoothly as he tapped Basil’s chest with the back of his hand. Boone was a few years older than Basil and had always looked at him as a kid. Basil looked down at Boone’s hands like they were foreign objects, and realized that Boone didn’t understand what he was doing.

  “‘Remember what you did for me’? What? You mean charge me out the ass for them stepped-on bricks? You never blessed me. I paid for every joint I ever copped from you. Oh, you don’t remember that, though, right?” Basil said as he smiled, trying to calm himself down. He felt his temperature rising but knew that this wasn’t the place for him to step out of his usual square.

  “I’m just trying to eat with you, my brother,” Boone said as he threw both hands up, as if he wasn’t a threat.

  “We will talk later. Now isn’t a good time,” Basil said. He immediately knew that he would never do business with Boone. Boone was too sloppy and too reckless. Basil had learned this through hearing the stories through Viv. Basil stepped to the side and approached Moriah.

  “Seem like you needed a little help. This doesn’t look like the university library,” Basil said as he released a small grin and looked around the club. Moriah couldn’t help but return the smile, feeling impressed by Basil’s authority. She watched how his crew had moved at his command and the sense of power was evident.

  “Thanks, Basil. I don’t know what was wrong with that mu’fucka,” she spat, anger still in her voice.

  “Oh shit, didn’t know you cussed,” Basil said, taken by surprise by her potty mouth.

  “Like a sailor,” she said, causing both of them to burst out into laughter.

  “This doesn’t look like a poetry jam,” Basil said as he again sarcastically looked around the club.

  “Yeah, I know, right? My father is so overprotective. I have to move around a tad differently than others, ya know,” Moriah said.

  “Your secret is safe with me,” Basil responded as he put his index finger on her lips.

  “Thanks. Listen, that nigga ruined my mood. Can you walk me to my car?” Moriah asked.

  “Sure,” Basil said as he looked into her cat-like eyes, once again admiring her beauty. Moriah whispered something to her Latina friend, Nia, and moved next to Basil as they prepared to make their exit. Basil’s guys gathered around him, and Basil began to feel his power. He waved them off.

  “Let me know when you make it home,” Nia said as she kissed Moriah on the cheek and walked back to the bar area. Basil took a glimpse at Nia. She was a petite full-blooded Latina and had a mean walk with a model’s posture. Basil then focused his attention back on Moriah.

  “Listen, you can’t tell my father I was in here. If he found out his daughter was in the middle of the hood, he would put security detail on me like I was the pope,” she said, just before they both burst out laughing in unison.

  “Scouts’ honor,” Basil assured her and walked her to the parking lot, to her luxury truck. As he opened her door for her, Moriah stepped in closer to Basil and stood on her tiptoes, delivering a kiss to his cheek.

  “Thanks, I owe you one,” she said, just before getting into her truck. Basil smiled as he shut the door for her. She then rolled down her window and just stared at Basil for a second. She took a good look, admiring his features: his strong jawline, caramel skin, and infectious smile. “Let me repay you. Lunch tomorrow?” she suggested.

  “Come on, ma. You know I can’t do that. Kane—”

  “Oh, I see. You’re scared of my father like everyone else in this city,” Moriah said with a slight smirk.

  “Nah, it ain’t like that. I’m not afraid of anyone, actually. I’m just saying. Your father and I got some things going on together and I want to keep it respectful,” Basil said as he looked around and slid his hands into his jeans.

  “I thought you were a G. Guess I was wrong,” Moriah said, intentionally trying to get under Basil’s skin.

  “Meet me here tomorrow around noon. We can do lunch,” Basil said as he tried to show that he was a man of no fear.

  “See you tomorrow, Basil,” Moriah said, right before starting up her truck.

  “See you tomorrow,” Basil shot back, smiling. He watched as Moriah pulled off and stood there wondering how he had just made a date with his mentor’s daughter. He smiled to himself and shook his head left to right. As she disappeared into the night’s darkness, Basil didn’t even notice the black Benz creep up on him. The car pulled up right alongside him and down rolled the window. Basil quickly turned around and stepped back, all while pulling a gun from his hip and pointing it at the driver.

  “Put that mu’fuckin’ gun down, Youngblood,” Fat Rat said as he looked down the barrel of the gun. Fat Rat wasn’t fazed at all as he gave Basil a stern look.

  “Oh, my bad, Fat Rat,” Basil said, surprised at his presence. Basil quickly put the gun back in his waistband. “What you doing out here?” Basil asked in confusion.

  “Kane doesn’t miss a beat. Trust that. I’m always watching Mo’s back,” Fat Rat said as he threw his car in park and stepped out. His expensive Italian shoes hit the pavement and he walked over to Basil and stood toe to toe with him.

  “Listen to me and listen close. You’re playing with fire. Leave that alone, Youngblood. Kane doesn’t play about his daughter,” Fat Rat said in a harsh whisper.

  “It wasn’t like that. I just walked her to her car,” Basil responded. Fat Rat then placed his hand on Basil’s shoulder and got even closer, as if he were telling him a secret.

  “Listen, I don’t care what you trying to do, I’m telling you what it looks like. It’s not a good look. Just fall back off of Mo, understood?” Fat Rat exclaimed.

  “Understood,” Basil said, not wanting to spend more time explaining himself.

  “Good. I’ll keep this between us, kiddo. Don’t want to rock the boat with Kane because he really has taken a liking to you. But do me a favor and keep it innocent with her.”

  “I got you, big homie,” Basil said.

  “Cool,” Fat Rat said as he patted Basil’s shoulder and gave him a smile. He spun on the spurs of his heel and headed back to the car. Just before he reached the car he looked back at Basil.

  “Yo, how much money you got on you?” he asked as he squinted his eyes and began to walk back in Basil’s direction.

  “I got a couple racks on me,” Basil said as he tapped his own pockets. Fat Rat then held out his hand and wiggled his fingers.

  “Yo, lemme get that. I have to shoot a move real quick,” Fat Rat said with an open hand. Basil didn’t think twice about reaching into his pocket, pulling a wad of money out. Fat Rat was a legend, so passing money to him, there was no risk in it. He knew he would be good for it.

  “Here you go.” Basil handed the money to him without even counting it.

  “I’ll give it back to you next time we see each other,” Fat Rat assured him. He then quickly retrieved the money, stuffed it in his pocket, and got back into his car. Basil watched as Fat Rat pulled off and out of the parking lot. Basil shook his head at what had just happened; he didn’t want to crush his empire before it even started by offending Kane. However, there was something about Moriah that drew him to her … she was different.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The quietest person in the room i
s the most dangerous.

  —KANE GARRETT

  Basil anxiously tapped the steering wheel as he kept checking his mirrors. He looked down at his watch to check the time and noticed that it was a few minutes past noon. Moriah was late for their lunch date. He began to rethink his decision about meeting her. He knew that he was playing with fire, but there was something about Moriah that he was drawn to. He wanted to learn more about her, to say the least. Just as he was about to start up his car and pull off, he saw her truck enter the parking lot. He craftily smiled to himself, admitting self-consciously that he was excited to see her. He totally disregarded Fat Rat’s orders about messing with Moriah. He had to learn about the most untouchable woman in the city. Moriah pulled up next to him and rolled down her window, exposing her beautiful smile.

  “Hey there,” Moriah said.

  “Hey, ma,” Basil replied.

  “Sorry I’m late. I had to shake off Uncle Rat. He was on my tail,” Moriah said, laughing but serious.

  “He didn’t follow you here, did he?” Basil asked as he looked around to double-check.

  “Relax, we’re good. I pinky promise!” Moriah said as she waved her pinky in the air.

  “Cool. Follow me. If you can keep up,” Basil instructed right before he pulled off. The screeching of his tires echoed through the air, and a small cloud of smoke emerged from under his back tires. Basil zoomed out of the parking lot, leading the way. Moriah let out a thunderous laugh and followed him onto the street. Basil looked in his rearview mirror and saw that Moriah was keeping up. He quickly turned into a back street and decided to have a little fun. He hit every corner he came across, trying to shake her with each turn. Moriah maneuvered around the corners skillfully as she laughed uncontrollably, having the time of her life. Basil was laughing also as he took her through the back streets, heading to his neighborhood, his projects: the Regency.

  Basil finally pulled into the projects, to the back, where an unoccupied building resided; it had been vacant for years and boarded up because of the city’s discovery of asbestos. He exited his car and leaned against his hood.

  “What’s this?” Moriah said as she stepped out of her truck and looked at the tall vacant building.

  “This is where we are having lunch. You game?” Basil asked as he gave her a smirk. Moriah looked up at the building, not fully understanding what he was getting at, but agreed.

  “Yeah, I’m game,” she replied.

  “Come on,” he said as he extended his hand to her. Moriah placed her hand inside of his and Basil led her to the fire escape.

  “You first,” he said as he pulled down the ladder that led up to the roof. Moriah was kind of nervous but there was something about Basil that made her feel safe. So she began to climb …

  * * *

  Fat Rat pulled into a small parking lot that was just outside the city limits of Flint. It belonged to a small, well-known bar that sat in the middle of the Irish district. He frequented the place mainly to place bets and gamble without being noticed by anyone from his hometown. The brick building was owned by a notorious family who specialized in illegal gambling and loan sharking. He sat there and thought about not entering, but the monkey on his back had different plans. He was already hundreds of thousands down and knew that he had no room for error, but his demons haunted him daily and he always thought he was one lucky day away from hitting it big. He always told himself that if he ever struck big that he would walk away for good. Sadly, that day never came. He won at times, but mostly he came up with the bad end of the stick. He was currently on his worst streak of bad luck and couldn’t catch a break. He gripped the steering wheel tightly and took a deep breath. He had knots in the pit of his stomach and suddenly the nervousness began to turn to excitement. The mere thought of walking out with a bankroll gave him an adrenaline rush that was similar to a high that an addict received from his preferred drug. Fat Rat parked toward the rear of the bar and approached the back door. A tall, overweight man in a suit stood at the back door smoking a cigarette. His hair was slicked back and the four-leaf-clover tattoo on his neck was a dead giveaway of his Irish decent.

  Fat Rat walked up to him and reached down into his pocket, retrieving the wad of money that was wrapped in a rubber band. Almost instantly the bouncer stepped to the side, giving Fat Rat access to the spot. Fat Rat entered and walked down a dark hallway that led to a large steel door. He knocked on the door in a rhythmic pattern. Seconds later, the sliding peephole opened and a set of eyes focused on Fat Rat, followed by the sounds of bolts unlocking and the large door being cracked open. The smell of cigar smoke, and the noise of various conversations hit him like a ton of bricks. He walked into the spacious room and saw poker tables and crap tables scattered throughout the room. This was the home of a secret society of gamblers and Fat Rat was in heaven. He was a known player here. Today, he was lighter than usual. The minimum bankroll was twenty thousand and the stash he had was just under five. He knew he was playing with fire, but he needed to scratch that itch of his addiction. He took a seat at an open table and took off his blazer. He rolled up his sleeve and let the games begin.

  * * *

  A spread of half-eaten sandwiches and fruits were placed on top of a blanket. The sun beamed down on Basil and Moriah as they laid on their backs staring up at the clouds.

  “That one looks like a giraffe a little,” Moriah said as she puffed on the weed-filled joint and inhaled. She slowly blew out the smoke and then tried to pass it to Basil.

  “Nah, I’m good. I don’t smoke,” he said as he put his hands behind his head and stared at the cloud. “You know what? That mu’fucka do look like a giraffe. Look, there go the neck.” Basil smiled and pointed at the sky.

  “Told you,” Moriah said as she nudged him with her elbow. They both shared a chuckle as they were three hours into their lunch date and were enjoying each other to the max. In that three hours they had managed to talk about politics, religion, music, and knowledge of one’s self; a well-rounded conversation. They were mutually feeling each other and it seemed so wrong, but it felt so right.

  “Basil, you’re not like the others I see working for my father. You’re different,” Moriah said as she sat up and pulled her knees close into her chest.

  “I don’t work for your father. We are doing business together,” Basil corrected her as he sat up as well.

  “Is that right?” Moriah said as she took another pull of the joint and then put it out.

  “I’m about to take these entire projects over. Watch and see,” Basil said calmly but confidently as he thought about what was to come. He then stood up and walked toward the edge of the rooftop. He overlooked the entire projects and knew that he was about to take over the reins. Kane had taught him a blueprint to the game and he planned on using it and becoming king. Moriah looked on in admiration as if she could read his mind. She had a notion that one day he would be king.

  * * *

  A short, stocky, red-haired man slowly paced the room as he looked at the situation that was in front of him. His skin was as pale as snow, which made his freckles stand out even more. His red-peppered face was distinctive and the tattooed clover on his neck matched that of the various members of his organization. He slid his hands into his Italian slacks, his collared shirt loosely unbuttoned, establishing his relaxed business-casual look. It was no other than Landon McVey, the Irish gangster who ruled the Irish district in the small town of Flushing. Landon looked down at the bloody man bound to a chair, his hands tied behind his back. Landon shook his head in disappointment as he walked over to his son, L.J., who was the spitting image of him. L.J. was breathing heavily, a bloody bat in his hand, as he looked at Fat Rat in disgust. L.J. was Landon’s only son and a hothead and known enforcer for his father’s organization. Sweat dripped from his forehead and his brows. He had beat Fat Rat relentlessly for his violation.

  “How long did you beat him?” Landon whispered calmly as he tried to analyze the situation.

  �
��About thirty minutes,” L.J. responded, locked in on Fat Rat, ready to continue the beating. Landon took a deep breath and looked at his watch. He looked over at his henchmen and whispered, “Get Kane on the phone.” Landon pulled up a chair and flipped it backward, right before he straddled it and faced Fat Rat, whose head was down. His chin was buried in his chest as he sat there, bloody and unconscious.

  “Hey. Hey!” Landon said as he snapped his fingers, trying to awaken Fat Rat. “Come on, buddy, wake up,” Landon said as he gently smacked Fat Rat’s cheeks. Fat Rat slowly regained consciousness and breathed heavily as his mouth leaked blood. He spit out a good amount just before he looked up and focused on Landon.

  “Listen, they didn’t know who you were. We’re going to get you out of here,” Landon said as he signaled for his goons to untie Fat Rat. A man quickly came over to Fat Rat and unleashed him. Fat began to rub his raw wrists, attempting to soothe them.

  “However, it seems that we have a problem. They say you didn’t pay your bill. What’s this? A man of your stature pisses on that type of money,” Landon said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone. “Just make a call and have someone bring the money here, so we can square this deal. Once again, I apologize for this. My son has a hot head, you know. He didn’t know that you were made. We can make this problem go away,” Landon said while giving a half smile. Fat Rat mumbled something incoherent. Landon squinted his eyes and looked closer at Fat Rat, attempting to figure out what he was trying to say.

  “Come again?” Landon asked.

  “I … don’t … have it,” Fat stammered in embarrassment.

  “You don’t have it?” Landon said as he stood up and moved the chair to the side. He slowly began to pace the room as he positioned both of his hands behind his back, obviously in deep thought. “So you came into my establishment, placed bets that you knew that you could not cover, and thought that was okay? See … you’ve dug yourself quite a hole. We don’t operate like that in this district. You can go back to Flint with the ‘nigga business.’ Now you’ve left me no choice,” Landon said as he walked toward his son and whispered something in his ear. L.J. nodded and smiled as he focused back on Fat Rat. Landon walked out of the back room and left his goons inside with Fat Rat once again. It was time for Fat Rat to pay his debt … in full.