* * *
“Thank you so much for always looking out for Basil,” Frenchie said as she sat at her kitchen table and placed her hands on top of Kane’s, who sat directly in front of her.
“I just don’t want him to get hurt. So if you hear from him, I want you to call me immediately so I can protect him. The streets are very dangerous right now,” Kane said while playing possum with Frenchie. She hadn’t heard about the shooting, so when Kane came knocking at her door at one that morning, it was news to her. He had told her that someone had tried to kill him and he left out the fact that his daughter had been murdered. He was hoping she could tell him where Basil was, but she had no answers.
“Oh my God. I pray for him every night and I hoped that something like this would never happen. I’m so glad he has someone like you that looks out for him. He really looks up to you and rightfully so,” Frenchie said as tears began to well up in her eyes. “Listen, Kane, I want to tell you something that I vowed to keep a secret until the day I left this earth.”
“What’s that?” Kane said as he held her hands.
“Well, remember that night that we were all at the apartment back in the day? The night that the Pistons won the championship?” she asked as she tried to jog Kane’s memory. It didn’t take much, because Kane knew that night like the back of his hand. He could remember it as if it happened just the night before. He already knew deep inside that she would be telling him the story that she was about to tell.
“Well, I never said anything because of the friendship that I shared with Keema. I knew it would break her heart but…” Frenchie choked up as a tear fell. Kane rubbed her hand to comfort her. He shot a look to Fat Rat, signaling him to do what he did best.
“We should have never done that. We were dead wrong. That’s the night that—” Fat Rat wrapped a chicken wire around her neck and pulled tight. Frenchie clawed at her neck, but there was no escape. Kane sat back and watched emotionlessly. Fat Rat pulled the chicken wire so tightly that his fingers began to bleed.
Frenchie tried to claw for Kane’s hand as if she was begging for his help, but Kane slowly pulled his hand away and stood up. Unbothered, he slid his chair underneath the table, then stood and watched as her movements began to slow and her eyes began to roll back in her head. Only the whites showed in her eyes and her body began to jerk erratically. He watched as she took her last breath and her body went limp. Fat Rat continued to pull aggressively to make sure he finished the job. Kane calmly fixed his cuff link that Frenchie had disheveled. He then calmly said, “That’s enough, Rat.”
Fat Rat slid the wire from around her neck, letting her head fall to her chin. Just as her head was about to hit the table, Kane cradled her face and gently sat her on the table. He then brushed her wild hair from her face with his fingers. He stared at her and said nothing, regretting that she had to be a casualty of war. He left her lying on her kitchen table … lifeless.
Kane knew at that moment the hunt for Basil could be called off. There was no need for a bounty anymore. Basil would come looking for him and when he came … Kane would be ready. Kane snapped off his cuff links from his well-tailored suit and shook his head in disappointment. He gently placed them on the table, almost as a signature to this brutal death.
* * *
“Yo, I don’t know how they had the drop on me. It was a setup. I know it,” Basil said in between his clenched teeth as he balled up his fist and hit the table. The sound echoed through the restaurant, and Basil looked around and composed himself.
“Everything gonna be smooth, bro. Point me to whatever direction and I’m coming through blazing,” Lil Noah said as he patted his waist while scanning around the top of the rooftop.
Basil looked at his protégé with skepticism and wondered if he was friend or foe. Basil was always cautious about how he moved and especially with Mo. He didn’t know who to trust at that point. The fact that Boone thought it was cool to walk up on Lil Noah’s car had Basil’s mind spinning.
“Why are you so fucking calm? Did you have something to do with—” Basil stopped mid-sentence, catching himself.
“Look, I’m with you, bruh. I’m the last person you have to worry about. You’re paranoid, bro. I never saw you like this,” Noah replied in disbelief.
“You’re right. I just don’t know who to trust. I lost everything, man … everything. Mo didn’t deserve this. She was everything I had. They didn’t have to do her like that,” Basil said as he dropped his head, feeling himself beginning to tear up.
“It’s cool. I understand. We will get to the bottom of this,” Lil Noah said as he reached over to put his hand on Basil’s shoulder. He didn’t even notice that Basil had reached for his weapon and now was pressing the tip of his gun to Lil Noah’s stomach. “Yo, Basil, what are you doing?”
“Yo, you and Boone tried to kill me?” Basil asked as he stared down at Noah.
“Whoa … whoa. Fuck no. I just served him a few bricks. That’s it. Strictly business, big homie. It was just business. You buggin’!” Noah pleaded as he put out both of his hands, showing that he posed no threat.
Basil didn’t care about anything anymore. He didn’t know who to trust and at that point everyone was an enemy.
“How you rocking with an enemy of mine? I showed you nothing but loyalty and this is how you repay me?” Basil asked in anger.
“Listen, it wasn’t like—” Noah tried to respond, but a bullet into his side ceased all communication. Basil watched as Noah dropped to his feet. Blood began to pour out of his mouth and Basil couldn’t even look down at his brethren. Basil was losing his mind; the paranoia had set in and had him moving in a way that was unfamiliar. Basil exited the roof, leaving Lil Noah there to die. He picked up his phone and called his Miami connect; it was time for a vacation. He had to get away before Kane’s henchmen caught up with him. He had no one left. He couldn’t trust anyone fully accept his mother. So many thoughts began to run through his head and a quote of Kane’s began to echo in his thoughts. “The streets have no king. The streets are and will always be king. It’s only placeholders. One day you can be on top of the world … and the next day the streets consume you,” Basil said as he made his way down the fire escape. He was on a rampage. He had killed two men within an hour and was on his way to kill a third. He blamed everyone for Moriah’s death, so any enemy that he had ever had could get it. Basil was not himself and he could feel it. The sad thing about it was that he didn’t care anymore.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The streets have no king.
—KANE GARRETT
“Momma! Where you at? We have to talk,” Basil said as he walked into Frenchie’s house. He wanted to drop her off some money because he would be leaving town for a while. He just had a couple more stops before hitting the highway. His plan was to hit Miami and lay low with his connect, Mecca Diamond, for a while. He just wanted to get out of town and figure things out. He had an idea of where the hit came from and he wanted to get things settled so he could face Kane and explain himself. As Basil walked through the house, he yelled for his mother again. He knew she was there because her car was in the driveway.
“Ma! Where are you?” Basil asked as he made his way into the kitchen. He looked over at the table and saw his mother with her head down and instantly felt a knot in the pit of his stomach. He rushed over to her and his hands began to shake as he slowly reached down to put his hand on her shoulder.
“Ma,” he mumbled as his eyes began to water. Her hair covered her face so he couldn’t see her, but for some reason he felt what was to come. He gently lifted her head and what he saw broke his heart into small pieces. Frenchie’s face was swollen with a chicken wire partially wrapped around her neck. Her throat and lower jaw were five times their original size and her soulless eyes bulged as they gazed into oblivion. She barely looked like herself and Basil couldn’t believe that he was looking at his mother. Her facial expression was that of pain and it was evident that she died suffering. H
e totally broke down.
“No … No. Ma! No, Mommy,” Basil cried as the tears began to flow and his nose ran like a faucet. He hugged his mother’s lifeless body and rocked back and forth as he lost the true love of his life, his sole reason for being on earth, his mother. He instantly clenched his jaws and his pain began to turn into fury. He knew who had done this. He slowly laid her head on the table and kissed her forehead. He ran his hand over her face, closing her eyelids for the very last time.
“Landon,” he whispered through his clenched teeth as his tears continued to fall like a waterfall. He knew that the death of Landon’s son had come back to haunt him and the guilt was like no other pain that he had ever experienced.
“I’m going to kill that motherfucker!” he yelled as he pounded his fists on the kitchen table in complete rage. He heard something jingle as his fists hit the surface. He looked across the table to see a second dagger to his already broken heart. It was a pair of diamond cuff links. He picked one of them up and his shoulders dropped in disbelief as he realized who the cuff links belonged to: none other than Kane. His style was unique and one of a kind. They were the same cuff links that he had witnessed Kane purchase in Miami a while back. Basil knew at that moment that their relationship was at a point of no return. Kane would forever be his enemy and both of them could not exist on the same earth, no matter what. It was the beginning of their end.
* * *
Fat Rat downed the glass of scotch and then slammed the glass down on the bar. He shook his head in angst and clenched his teeth tightly. He buried his chin into his chest and slowly shook it from side to side, disappointed. He was at the Irish pub, once again, and was waiting for the bartender to return. He had requested to speak to Landon and was told to wait. Fat Rat’s conscience was eating at him as he kept replaying the series of events that had occurred. The last twenty-four hours were like a bad nightmare to him. He repeatedly shook his head in disbelief and glanced at the door, impatiently waiting for Landon to see him. His fingers began to involuntarily tap the counter anxiously. The sins of a man can weigh heavy on his heart and sometimes could be the death of him.
“Landon will see you now,” the well-built bartender said as he returned from the back with a dishrag in hand. Fat Rat stood up and buttoned his blazer just before he followed the bartender toward the back to Landon’s office. Fat Rat made his way into the office and the pungent smell of cigar smoke hit him as he walked in. The office was laced with mahogany furniture and expensive leather. Fat Rat saw the medium-built Irishman sitting behind the desk, smoking a robust Nicaraguan cigar. The bartender held the door open for Fat Rat as he walked in, looking directly at Landon with eyes of hatred.
“Did you send off that letter?” Landon asked the bartender as he was closing the door behind Fat Rat.
“Yes, sir. I sent it off yesterday,” the bartender said as he exited and closed the door, leaving the two men in the office alone to talk. Landon nodded his head in approval.
“Fat Rat, I knew I would be seeing you soon. Well done,” Landon said as he put out his cigar and slowly began to clap as Fat Rat approached his desk.
“No need for small talk. I just came to collect what is mine,” Fat Rat said with hatred in his tone.
“Absolutely. You owed the house eight hundred thousand from what I can remember. Now we owe you two hundred thousand, after our little deal,” Landon said as he reached underneath his desk and pulled out a small book bag. He then tossed it over to Fat Rat and smiled. “That’s four hundred thousand. A small bonus for bringing Kane’s only child to me. Now she can rest in peace right along with my son. It brings me great pleasure to do to Kane what was done to me.”
“You son of a bitch! You said the kid Basil, not the girl!” Fat Rat said as he began to tear up in guilt.
“Well, sometimes things don’t go as planned. I am satisfied with what transpired, my friend. I want Kane to feel what I had to feel. He did nothing to try to even the odds when my only child was murdered. I missed the kid, but I got the next best thing,” Landon said as anger built up with his every word.
Fat Rat shook his head in disgust as he let his chin drop down to his chest. The weight of the world was on his shoulders and he had the burden of carrying a secret to his grave. He was the sole reason that Landon knew where to find Basil and ultimately was the reason Mo was murdered. His gambling had made him commit the ultimate betrayal. Fat Rat clenched his jaws tightly and balled up his fist as hard as he could. He wanted to say something but he knew that a deal was a deal. He also knew that he needed that bag of money. He had borrowed from Kane and exhausted all favors in the streets. His bank account was in the negative and all of his bills were backed up. Fat Rat had sold his soul to the devil and the price wasn’t cheap. He hesitantly reached down and scooped up the bag. It was a bag filled with blood money; Moriah’s blood, to be exact. He peeked in and saw the large bills scattered throughout the bag. He slowly turned on the spurs of his heels and headed toward the exit. Fat Rat began to think about how the money could get him back on track and how it was the perfect time to stop gambling. The money wasn’t enough to solve all of his financial problems, but it was a good start. Just as Fat Rat reached the door, he placed his hand on the knob. He paused for a few seconds and took a deep breath.
“Landon,” he called.
“Yeah,” Landon answered.
“Lions at home tonight, right?”
“Yeah, they have the Packers. It’s an even line … pays exactly what you bet,” Landon said while smiling, knowing that his money had no chance of leaving that office. Not with a compulsive gambler like Fat Rat holding it.
“Who you got?” Fat Rat asked, yet to turn around.
“Sorry, my friend … I don’t gamble,” Landon said as he reached down for his cigar and relit it.
Almost in a hurry, Fat Rat turned around and headed back toward Landon. He tossed the money on the desk and his eyes raced as if he were high on narcotics. “Give me the Lions. For all of this,” Fat Rat said as his heart pounded faster that two pistons in a high-powered engine.
“Are you sure?” Landon asked as he blew a cloud of smoke into the direction of the addict across from him.
“What the fuck did I say? Yeah, I’m sure. Book it. I’ll be here after the game to pick up eight hundred thousand!” Fat Rat said as he pointed at Landon, his finger trembling from the adrenaline that was pumping through his body.
“It’s a bet,” Landon said as he chuckled from his gut, letting out a sinister laugh. He watched as Fat Rat stormed out. Landon knew it was a sucker bet. He’d got word that the Lions’ starting quarterback had been on a coke binge for the last seventy-two hours. That was the perk of being the biggest bookie in the Midwest. He shook his head in disbelief as he smiled and looked in the bag.
“That motherfucker has some set of balls, I tell ya…”
Fat Rat walked back through the bar, looking down at his phone. Kane had just sent him a text asking him to pick up a bottle of scotch for the weekly Sunday tradition. Fat Rat began to check his ESPN app to see the latest news on that evening’s football game. His itch had begun, and he was locked in on the game and the potential to double up the bag he had just received from Landon. Fat Rat was so locked in on his phone, he almost knocked down the hooded man entering the bar.
“Watch out, mu’fucka,” Fat Rat said under his breath, as the man brushed past him. Fat Rat didn’t even give him the courtesy of eye contact. Fat Rat exited out of the door and planned on never repeating the deal that he’d made with Landon that caused the death of his goddaughter.
* * *
“The bet is final! Too late to change your mind,” Landon said as he was relighting his cigar. He’d seen someone come to his door and assumed that it was Fat Rat returning to call off the dumb bet he had just put in. However, to his surprise, it wasn’t Fat Rat. A hooded man holding a .45-caliber gun with a silencer on the tip of it was calmly walking in his direction with the gun pointed directly at him. Lan
don froze in fear as he looked into the eyes of a man apart. The man pulled the hood off of his head, exposing his face. It was none other than Basil. The same man that Landon had just called a hit on and his henchmen failed to finish the job.
“Do you know who I am? Basil asked in a low, stern voice as he stood directly in front of Landon’s huge desk. Landon said nothing, but nodded in confirmation.
“Good. Then you know why I am here,” Basil continued as he gripped the gun as tight as he could. “Step from behind that desk and get on your knees,” he commanded. He clenched his jaws so tightly that the muscles bulged out of his lower jaw and veins began to form in his forehead. Basil was in a mental zone that he had never been in. He was on a warpath. Landon stood up slowly, but not before touching the button under his desk to notify his henchman in the bar. Basil’s eyes were glued on Landon, so he saw the subtle move by his counterpart.
“You think it’s a game, don’t you?” Basil said as his voce elevated and the rage began to rear its ugly head. Basil struck Landon across the temple with the butt of his gun. Landon instantly fell to the ground as the blood began to leak out of the gash like a fountain.
“Get to your mu’fuckin’ knees!” Basil screamed while looking down at him. Landon got on his knees, while holding his head. Basil grinned, getting pure joy out of seeing the blood pour in between Landon’s fingers.
“If you’re trying to signal your goon, don’t bother. I just gave him three hollow-tips to his forehead. His brains are all over the counter, homeboy.” Basil gave Landon a swift kick to his midsection, causing Landon to grunt in agony. Basil was positioned directly in front of Landon as he pressed the gun to his forehead.
“So, how did you get the drop on me? How did you know my spot?” Basil asked through clenched teeth. “Boone … Lil Noah? Who!” Basil exclaimed.
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