The Reluctant King: Book 1: The Book of Shadow

by K'wan

  Nobody moved at first. Deadly glares were traded among the passengers and for a moment Chance thought that his words hadn’t had the desired effect. Then, the most unlikely of the King children stepped up.

  “All for the family,” Shadow said, touching his fist to his father’s. When his siblings still hesitated, Chance gave them a commanding look. One by one, Maureen and the siblings added their fists to the circle. Even Chapman finally joined them.

  “All for the family,” they said in unison.

  Although no one knew it then, this was a turning point for the Kings.

  CHAPTER 18

  What started out as a shitty day for Malice turned around by sunset. He’d had the same routine for years: pick up, drop off, talk shit, and swallow spit. Since back when he was still in and out of jail and shooting at cats over petty bullshit, his career hadn’t been very eventful. Of course, there was the occasional dustup, which was expected in his line of work, but it was rarely anything crazy. Yet Malice had really earned his stripes over the last few years. He had shot, cut, and stabbed enough niggas along the way to where he should not have been still proving himself, but every few years there would come a young upstart who sought to pull him out of character. Such was the case with the young East New York cat who called himself the Black Jew.

  Malice had been aware of Judah for a while. He remembered when the dude was still getting burned on ounces of cocaine in Harlem, before he finally found the right plug. Even when Judah did get his feet under him, he stayed in his lane. Lately, though, he’d been swerving. The more he got his weight up, the bigger his eyes got. It wasn’t long before he started stepping on toes, with the latest unfortunate dance partner being Malice. Judah was a kid who Malice had never really acknowledged, but when he started sniffing around what belonged to the older hustler, it moved him from the position of punk to an actual threat.

  The sad part was that when Malice reflected on how they’d gotten to this point, he had no one but himself to blame. He had gotten drunk and did some bozo shit, but he wanted to make it right in the way of a peace offering. This was why he had been trying to reach out to Ghost. The streets knew that Ghost was set to be the next king, so the last thing Malice needed was to be on his bad side. Ghost was in his feelings, but once he heard what Malice had to say, it would inevitably relieve some of the tension between them. In fact, Ghost would probably put him in position as a way of showing gratitude for Malice exposing the move that was about to be made against him. The streets were talking, and what they were saying wasn’t good for the future king, or the current one for that matter. Malice needed to contact Ghost, but first he would have to deal with Judah, which was proving to be easier said than done.

  Malice finished making his rounds by early evening. None of his spots were short that day, which was a good thing. After making his last pickup, he decided to head home. He and some of his crew were supposed to go out that night, so he needed to shower and change.

  Before entering his building, he hit the store for some blunt wraps. The plan was to burn one while laying out his clothes. “Let me get a box of Dutch Masters,” he told the man behind the counter, while also grabbing a six-pack from the cooler. When he rounded the aisle, he found himself confronted with a beautiful sight: a plump young ass in a pair of tight jeans bent over one of the coolers. Malice stood there for a moment, admiring the view. The girl must’ve felt his lecherous eyes because she turned around.

  “I’m sorry, am in your way?” she asked in a voice that was as sweet as she looked. She was light-skinned, with long black braids and lips that looked like they were made for sucking dick.

  “Nah, love. You good,” Malice said, trying to sound sexy.

  She gave him a smile and went back into the freezer, emerging with a six-pack of Corona. When she passed him to go to the counter, she made it a point to brush against him. Malice caught an instant erection. He had to taste that.

  “Girl, you don’t even look old enough to drink,” Malice said, following her to the counter, forgetting about his own beers.

  “I’m twenty-three,” she said, sounding like she had picked the number out of thin air—not that Malice cared. “Besides, they aren’t for me. They’re for my auntie.” She reached into her purse for cash, but Malice stopped her. He pulled out his bankroll and slowly began thumbing through it. He could feel her eyes on the money. The hook was baited and now all he had to do was reel her in. He slid the cash across the counter and retrieved the box of blunts while the girl grabbed her beers.

  “Such a gentleman,” she said.

  “I’ve been called a lot of things by women, but I don’t think gentleman is one of them,” Malice joked.

  “Then maybe you’ve been hanging around the wrong type of broads.”

  “And you’re the right kind?”

  The girl shrugged.

  “Listen, I don’t know what you got planned right now, but I was about to go to my crib and burn one. I stay right up the block.”

  “I’m down for that. I just have to drop these beers off to my auntie. She stays around the corner. You wanna walk with me, then we can go back to your place?”

  “Bet,” Malice said, holding the store’s door open for her. “What’s your name, lil’ mama?”

  “Chelsea.”

  Chelsea and Malice walked down the block, chatting like two old friends. She told Malice how she had just moved to the neighborhood to stay with her aunt on account of her not getting along with her mom. That would explain why he had never seen her in the area. Every few feet, she made it a point to touch him, or rub up against him. Malice was primed and couldn’t wait to get her back to his apartment and split her open.

  “This is it,” Chelsea said, stopping in front of a seedy-looking building.

  Malice looked up at the building. It was a wreck and should’ve been condemned a long time ago. He passed this building all the time, but didn’t think anybody other than crackheads stayed there.

  “You don’t have to go in with me if you don’t want to,” she said. “I can run the beers upstairs and meet you back here.”

  “Nah, I’ll go with you,” he mumbled. The last thing Malice wanted was for her to get to her aunt’s house and change her mind about him. He wasn’t letting the young girl out of his sight until he smashed. He held the cracked glass door for her and followed behind her.

  The inside of the building looked just as bad as the outside. Overhead, a naked light bulb winked on and off, painting the foyer in eerie shadows. The hallways stank of piss and cigarette smoke. The walls were cracked and marked with gang graffiti. It was a cesspool, and if Chelsea was staying there with her aunt, he was going to make her jump in the shower before he allowed her to touch his sheets. Just being inside the building made him itch, and the sooner Malice was able to get out of there, the better.

  When Malice let the door swing shut behind him, it bumped his hand, causing the box of Dutch Masters to fall on the ground. When he bent over to pick it up, he heard a loud bang, followed by what was left of the lobby door’s glass shattering. Someone one was shooting—at him. His eyes darted up, and he spotted a man in a hoodie on the stairs, holding a smoking gun. The little bitch had set him up!

  Malice abandoned his blunts and drew his weapon. The shooter in the hoodie was closing on him. Before Malice could pull the trigger, Chelsea swung the bag holding the six-pack. The bottles shattered, spraying glass and beer all over Malice, causing him to lose his grip on his pistol. There was a second shot, followed by an explosion of pain in his shoulder. Malice’s survival instincts kicked in and he took off running.

  He made it half a block before his arm started going numb. He was bleeding like a stuck pig, leaving a trail of red behind him. A quick glance over his shoulder told him that the shooter was still with him. Malice had gotten a head start, but the man was gaining. The hoodie obscured his face, though Malice was pretty sure it was Judah. With one arm and no weapon, he was dead in the water, so he ran faster.
r />   Malice just reached his building when another shot was fired. This one narrowly missed his face, sparking off the side of the building. He tried to pull his key out of his pocket, but his fingers wouldn’t cooperate. He was sweating, and starting to get dizzy. Likely from all the blood he was losing. The shooter was almost on him, moving in like a predatory cat. Malice realized he was about to die.

  Just then, fate tossed him a bone. One of the tenants, an old woman, stepped out of the building. He damn near knocked her over when he rushed inside. With his last bit of strength, he pulled the door closed behind him. The hooded man tried to snatch it open, but it was locked. In frustration he then removed his hood so that Malice could see his face. Sure enough, it was Judah. Thinking about how close he had almost come to dying made Malice chuckle. Judah looked pissed, so Malice decided to rub salt in the wound and give him the finger. Little bastard had almost caught Malice slipping—almost. Judah wouldn’t get a second chance, this he was sure of.

  When Malice turned to head up the stairs, he found himself confronted with another familiar face. This one wore no hood; he wanted Malice to see him.

  Malice sighed. “It’s always the quiet ones you gotta watch.”

  Those were the last words he ever spoke.

  CHAPTER 19

  As he led the procession into the banquet hall, Chancellor King received what could only be described as a king’s welcome. Every man and woman in the room rose to their feet and clapped in respect for the king and queen. Chance looked quite regal in his tuxedo with a gold crown pinned to the lapel. On his arm, Maureen was no less stunning in her black sequin ball gown. Her wrists, fingers, ears, and neck were adorned with so many stones that when the light kissed them she seemed to shimmer. Atop her head was a diamond tiara.

  Chippie came over to meet the family. She looked different with her hair done and makeup on. She had even ditched her glasses for the night and gone with a pair of contacts. Her cocktail dress hugged her, but it wasn’t tight. She showed off her figure without being too revealing. Clutched in her hand was her ever-present iPad. “Don’t you all look sharp,” she said warmly.

  Chance kissed her on the cheek. “You ain’t looking too bad yourself.”

  “I’ve got a few things that I need to float around and take care of, but we’re all set.” Chippie motioned for the family to follow her. “Let me get you guys to the table.”

  As they crossed the room, Maureen stopped to speak to a friend. Ghost waited, but the rest of them kept moving. Shadow and Lolli fell in step behind Chance. Shadow worked the room, smiling and winking at some of the women in attendance. Lolli walked beside her father and Chippie, eyes sweeping the room, as if she was expecting some type of threat to materialize.

  “Are all the important people here?” Chance asked.

  Chippie tapped the screen on her iPad and scrolled through the guest list. “For the most part, yes. The only people of note who seem to be missing are Mr. Salvatore and Alderman Porter.”

  Chance stopped walking. “I talked to Rocco personally, so that’s no surprise, but I expected Porter to be here.” He had spoken to the alderman, who had assured him that he wouldn’t miss the event, though Chance had picked up on a hint of sarcasm.

  “I’ll let you know if he does show up,” Chippie said.

  When the Kings reached their table, they found it already partially occupied. Of course, Little Stevie was present at the King table. He wasn’t blood, but was more family than some who shared the same DNA.

  Sitting at the head of the table, a seat reserved for Chancellor, was a man dressed in a white suit with no tie. His face was dark and sun-beaten, and his thick hair was slicked back and lathered with way too much gel.

  As Shadow studied his face, he realized why the name Zaza had sounded so familiar. This wasn’t the first time he had laid eyes on Orlando Zaza. Shadow could vaguely remember seeing the man’s face at their apartment in Brooklyn, and also at their new home. But Shadow hadn’t seen him in at least three years.

  Orlando Zaza was a major player. A Cuban native, he had made his bones in Miami. Over the last few years, he had built a power structure in New Jersey. He was the plug when it came to guns, fleecing his Cuban connect for as many firearms as he could handle, which he snuck in through Port Newark. The gun industry had made Orlando rich and he needed a way to launder all his dirty cash. This was how he’d originally met Chancellor King. For a small fee, Chance taught him how to launder his money through properties. He helped Orlando tap into a franchise of wireless phone retailers and soon the venture blossomed. To date, he had ten locations across New York, New Jersey, and Florida. Between the wireless stores and his gun business, Orlando did quite well for himself, though he still wanted more. What he really desired was a seat at Chance’s table. Not at the birthday dinner—the real table. The monarchy.

  “Looks like somebody didn’t read the seating chart,” Lolli said.

  Orlando’s jovial brown eyes turned to her. “Is that little Lollipop?” he said, standing. “The last time I saw you, you were still riding dirt bikes and skinning your knees. You’re all grown up now.”

  “Nice to see you again, Mr. Zaza,” Lolli said with a forced smile, extending her hand.

  Orlando pulled Lolli into an uncomfortable hug. “We’ve got far too much history to be so formal.”

  “You better not let your wife see you making eyes at my baby girl,” Chance half joked. He hadn’t missed the intimacy of the hug.

  Orlando placed his hand over his heart. “Ah, but if only I were twenty years younger. We’d run away together and leave my poor Juliette an old maid.”

  “And Shadow,” Chance said, practically shoving his son to the forefront.

  Shadow nodded awkwardly, not feeling how his father had put the attention on him. “Hi, Mr. Zaza.”

  “Mr. Zaza is for men who beg for my mercies. You can call me Orlando.” He winked and held the boy’s grip a little longer than needed.

  “Cut that kind of chatter around Shadow,” Chance interjected. “He ain’t from that.”

  “No, that would be the other son,” Orlando said, turning to Ghost, who had been staring daggers at him during the whole exchange. “What’s the matter? The last time we saw each other, fire shot from your tongue, and tonight you can’t find it?”

  “Orlando,” Ghost said flatly. An awkward silence lingered between them.

  “Well, Orlando—hello!” Maureen chirped as she approached the table, breaking the tension. “I’m so glad you and your lovely family could make it tonight.”

  “When a friend calls,” Orlando said, “I answer. Friendship is something that I value very deeply, as I’m sure the Kings already know.”

  “Indeed I do,” Chance said, “and I’m looking forward to our friendship blossoming to something greater than what it was before.”

  Orlando didn’t respond. Instead, he turned to his attention back to Maureen. “Happy birthday, Madam Queen.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it.

  “Thank you, Orlando,” Maureen curtsied. “Where’s that beautiful wife of yours?”

  Orlando motioned across the room toward a bronze-colored woman with blond hair. “She and Josette are just over there. No doubt trading gossip.”

  “I must go over and say hello,” Maureen said. “Come with me, Sean.” When they got out of earshot, Maureen pulled her son close. “You do what I asked you?”

  “Yeah, but I can’t make any promises,” Shadow said. “You know how Millie is.”

  “Only too well.”

  “That Orlando is an interesting character.”

  “Interesting? That’s hardly the word I’d use to describe him. That whole Zaza clan is a nest of vipers.”

  “Then why is Dad doing business with him?”

  Maureen shook her head. “A necessary evil. But Orlando isn’t your concern tonight. Keep your eyes on the prize.”

  The short walk to where the Zaza women stood might as well have been the green mile. Juliette’
s hazel eyes were locked on Maureen the whole time. She looked like a retired movie star in her diamonds and perfectly painted face. The white dress she wore was so tight that it was a wonder she could breathe in it, let alone move. It dipped low in the front, showing off way too much cleavage, yet Maureen had to admit that the woman looked damn good for her age. It was no surprise, though, considering all the money her husband had spent on her cosmetic surgeries over the years.

  Maureen put on her best plastic smile. “Hey, girl,” she said, kissing the woman’s cheek. “Been a long time.”

  “Three years, six months, and four days,” Juliette said, flashing her perfect white teeth.

  “Really? Seems like only yesterday.”

  Maureen and Juliette had never really gotten along. Even before the falling out between their husbands, the women’s relationship had been turbulent. Perhaps because they were so much alike, two strong-willed queens with dominant personalities.

  “I guess time flies when you’re building empires,” Juliette said cheerily, lifting her hand so that Maureen could see the diamonds on her fingers.

  “I see Carmen didn’t come with you guys,” Maureen said, referring to the Zazas’ oldest daughter.

  “Regretfully, no. But she did ask me to wish you a happy birthday. She’s actually on a honeymoon cruise with her new husband.”

  “Well, I’m glad she’s found her soul mate. Please extend a congratulations on behalf of the royal family.” Maureen could tell that the remark cut Juliette, which had been her intention.

  “I doubt she would’ve come anyhow, all things considered,” the woman said. “Oh, before I forget.” She reached into her expensive handbag and withdrew an envelope, which she passed to Maureen. “Happy birthday from the Kingdom of Zaza.”

  Maureen clutched the envelope to her chest. “You shouldn’t have.”

  “We had to. It isn’t much, just a little something on your special day to show how much love and respect we have for the Kings.” Juliette peered behind Maureen at Shadow and widened her smile. “And who is this fine slice of midnight you’re hiding back there?”