“I wish I could work some magic on that one,” Rello said, wiping his hand down on his face. “Whoo! That bitch is bad. Booty phat, nice titties, pretty face, business savvy. Man, you sure you gon’ be able to stay in character? That’s the type of bitch known to drive a nigga crazy.”
“Niggas like me don’t get pussy whipped, youngblood,” Tron said with a smirk. “That’s why I’m the boss, and you’re the runner. All you young niggas think about is pussy.”
“You ain’t know? I’m a runner ’cause I runs in and out of pussy! I beats it up too!” Rello made a pull up motion with his arms and started laughing. “Nah, G, I feel you, though. But you always calling me young like you ain’t only like five or six years older than me.”
“In the streets, those are like dog years,” Tron told him. “I’m about to shake spot. Get out of here and try not to do no stupid shit until you hear my word. Understand?”
“Loud and clear,” Rello nodded.
The two did a handshake before going separate ways. Tron was telling the truth when he said he was going to check out Kleigh’s spot. He went in and ordered a slice of cake and some coffee to go. When he got back to his car, he couldn’t wait. He opened the small container of red velvet and broke off a piece with his fingers. The moment it hit his tongue, he knew Kleigh was right. He enjoyed it so much that he knew he would be back.
He finished eating the cake and tossed the small Styrofoam container out the window. Glancing in his rearview mirror, he saw the black Mercedes that was posted outside of the bakery. He’d been sure to park far enough away not to be detected and had kept his head down when he’d gone into the bakery. He figured that whoever was in the car was a part of Klax’s entourage and was probably in charge of watching Kleigh. They were doing a pretty bad job of it because, with all that had just taken place in the alley, they hadn’t budged. She also wasn’t even at the bakery anymore. He shook his head, knowing that if he had wanted to harm Kleigh, it would have been all too easy. Hopefully, his next hit would be as easy. Tron grabbed his phone from his pocket and called his best shooter, Nushawn.
“NuNu,” Tron said when the phone was picked up.
“What’s up, Tron?”
“Are y’all in position?”
“Yeah,” NuNu answered. “We planted all the devices.”
“Good. Blow that bitch up.”
Tron disconnected the phone and tossed it to the passenger seat. By being back in the place where he was born, he’d learned a lot about the king of Harlem. Including that not only was he a dope-dealing boss, but he played an active part in the community as well. Klax had helped rebuild a homeless shelter, put a few kids through college, and had even opened a few neighborhood recreation centers around New York. None of that did anything to sway Tron’s decision to burn Klax’s operation to the ground, however. In fact, all it did was give Tron more ammunition to work with. By keeping his ear to the streets the way his uncle Kyan had taught him, Tron found out that Klax was in the middle of trying to purchase an old theater and transform it into a museum of art. He was having some trouble since the council wanted to turn it into a subsidized housing division. Tron figured that he would side with neither. He had his men rig the entire building up with explosives to blow it sky-high. After a few moments, his phone rang in the passenger’s seat, and he answered without looking at the screen.
“Is it done?”
“Is what done?”
Kleigh’s voice caught him by surprise. He cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter.
“My bad, I thought you were somebody else,” he said. “What’s going on? You miss me already?”
“You wish. I was just calling to tell Sexy Chunky Peanut Butter that he can pick me up at around seven.”
“OK. Send your address, so he knows where to come get you, and I will relay the message. Is there anything else you wanted to say to him?”
“Yes, there is, actually. I wanted to ask him why he saved himself in my phone as Sexy Chunky Peanut Butter.”
“Because of the way you look at him.”
“And how do I look at him?”
“Like you want to eat him up.”
He was afraid that his bluntness had turned her off because she was quiet for a few moments. He couldn’t even hear her breathing. He was about to ask if she was still there, but then she spoke up.
“I guess that’s fair then,” she said. “I guess since you’re blunt, I can be too. I think you’re fine; beyond it, actually. But that can only get you so far with a woman like me.”
“A woman like you?”
“Yes, a woman like me. One that doesn’t need a man for shit. Understand that I don’t go on dates often, so don’t waste my time. If you just want to fuck me, say that.”
“Of course, I want to fuck you, but not at this particular moment. I just want you to let a nigga show you a good time. Is that too much to ask?”
“I guess no. But I want to tell you something else.”
“I think you’ve just said a lot,” Tron said, suddenly turned on.
“Well, I want to say something else. I’ll let you take me out, but whatever happens tonight and after, don’t get attached to me. Understand?”
“Understood.”
“Perfect. I’m sending my address now.”
The line went dead signifying that she had disconnected the call. His breathing was shallow, and for the first time in a while, he was thrown for a loop. In his hand, his phone vibrated once. When he looked at the screen, it was a text from her with an address. He made a mental note of it and was about to put the device in his cup holder when it rang again. That time it was NuNu.
“Hello?” he answered.
“It’s done, boss,” NuNu. “The building is nothing but cobblestone and ash.”
“Good.”
* * *
Seven o’clock came faster than Tron anticipated, but he was ready for it. He hoped that her mood wasn’t changed by the news that the theater Klax was looking to acquire had been blown to pieces. It had been breaking news on every news station since it had happened.
His plan was not only to show Kleigh a great time but to dive so deeply into her mind that she wouldn’t want to fish him out. She already was proving to be a tough cookie to crack, but he needed to earn her trust. A few hours before seven o’clock had hit, Kleigh sent him a message asking him to pull to the back of her building, and she would come out that way. She gave him the code to get through the gate and told him to call her when he was there. He did not ask her to elaborate. After seeing Klax’s goon outside the bakery, he was positive there would be someone sitting outside of her condo too. That was also the reason he figured it would be better to tone down on his wheels. He made Kyan bring him his gray 2019 Mercedes-Benz C 300. It wasn’t a Ferrari, but it was a car that could blend in, and that was what he was going for. When he pulled around the back of her building, he called her phone.
“Hello?”
“I’m out back,” he said.
“OK, I’m coming down. Give me about five minutes. I’m touching up my lipstick.”
“Bet.”
He hung up and waited patiently for her. In exactly five minutes, he saw her come out of the tall glass doors and walk toward his car as if she owned the air around her. Even though she was walking at a normal speed, it was like she was moving in slow motion. She wore a sleeveless black tube dress that stopped just above her ankles. The dress was so simple, but her curves set the entire look off. She was so thick that he could see her backside from the front and her thighs jiggled with each step she took in her open-toe ankle strap heels. Her makeup was flawless, and she no longer rocked the long hair she had earlier that day. Instead, she’d opted to wear her natural hair in a twist out style that touched her back. Tron grabbed the rose and got out of the car so that he could get her door.
“Well, don’t you clean up nice,” she said with a smile.
That night, he opted for a fitted burgundy suit with diamond cuff
links. He left the top buttons of the white shirt he wore under his jacket open and showcased the lion tattoo on his chest.
“I should be saying that to you. Seeing you walk out that door just took my breath away,” he said, handing her the rose. “For you.”
“Just one?” She raised her perfectly arched eyebrow at him but took the flower.
“I was going to get a dozen, but then I figured I’d just choose the most beautiful one instead. No point in adding others where they don’t compare.”
Tron noticed that her eyes lit up like stars before the corners of her lips stretched. He also noticed that she only had one dimple on the right side of her face. The smile only lasted for a few seconds after she took the rose, and he opened her door.
“You have a way with words, Tron,” she told him and got in the car.
“I only speak the truth,” he said, shutting her door.
He got back in the driver’s seat and drove away from the condo. From the corner of his eye, he saw her get comfortable in her seat. She looked around the vehicle, and he couldn’t tell if she was impressed with it.
“No ’Rari today?” she asked, leaning against her door and slightly turning to face him.
“Nah. I wanted to be inconspicuous, so to speak.”
“Aaah, I get it. You must have a little girlfriend you’re hiding from. You don’t want her to see you out with me.”
“You’re on funny time, I see,” Tron said with a laugh. “I don’t even know the last time I had one of those.”
“So you must be a player.”
“I mean, I’ve played the field a little bit in my day, but right now, I’m just chilling. Waiting to see what God decides to blow my way.”
“Blow your way, huh?”
“Yeah, blow my way,” Tron said glancing at her. “And you’re one to talk about hiding.”
“What do you mean?” she asked with a smirk.
“The whole, ‘Pick me up out back,’ thing. You got a nigga you’re hiding from or something? ’Cause I’m letting you know I keep a blower on me at all times.”
“No!” Kleigh said, laughing. “No, I definitely do not have a boyfriend. It’s my brother. He’s protective of me. Overly protective.”
“So why do you have to sneak out then?” Tron asked, playing dumb. “He got cameras watching you or something?”
“Worse,” she told him. “He has his goons over me twenty-four seven. I’m 25 years old and still have babysitters. Ain’t that crazy?”
“Goons? Your brother must be something serious,” Tron said, acting like he didn’t know who her brother was.
“Some people call him the king of Harlem. You may have heard of him, Klax Turner?”
“Sounds familiar,” Tron faked like he was wracking his brain. “I may have heard it in passing. I just moved back here not too long ago, though, so don’t be offended.”
“I’m not,” she said with a smile. “It’s refreshing to be fresh to somebody. No . . . It’s refreshing to have someone treat me like a person and not a fragile vase or some shit. Niggas usually run the other way when I get close.”
“That must be why you don’t go on dates like that.”
“That, and the fact that I don’t fuck around. I don’t let niggas around me just because they want to be. So consider yourself lucky.”
“I consider myself lucky every day I’m on this earth,” Tron told her matter-of-factly. “A female doesn’t make or break me.”
When she was quiet, he turned his head to look at her, only to see that she was staring at him. There was a curious smile frozen on her face, and he returned it with one of his own. He reached over and grabbed her hand in his.
“You good over there?” he asked and caressed the top of her hand with his thumb.
“Yeah,” she told him. “I’m just trying to decipher the vibe I’m getting right now. I feel like you want to be here with me, but then again, I feel like you don’t care.”
Tron knew the exact vibe that she was talking about. It was true that he thought she was a beautiful woman, but the fact still remained that she was the offspring of the man who had murdered his family. Naturally, his soul was repelled by Kleigh. She was nothing but a body in the way of his ultimate goal, but still, he knew he needed to tone the chilly vibe down some if he wanted to get anywhere with her.
“My bad. I don’t do shit like this all the time.”
“I guess we can just take baby steps together then,” Kleigh suggested. “You said you just moved back. Where are you from?”
“Well, I’m from Harlem,” Tron started. “But I moved upstate with my dad when I was 7.”
“Why did you leave?”
“My mom died,” he told her simply. “My dad just couldn’t stand being here anymore, I guess.”
“I’m sorry to hear that about your mom,” Kleigh said, squeezing his hand slightly. “My dad passed away a few years back. He had prostate cancer.”
Serves him right. I hope it was a slow, painful death, Tron thought.
“It was slow and painful,” Kleigh spoke his thoughts aloud.
She was quiet for a moment, and when he looked over at her, she seemed to be in deep thought. Her jaw was tight, and her eyes were focused on the road.
“My bad. I didn’t mean to fuck up the vibe,” he told her, but she shook her head.
“No, it’s not you. It’s just . . .” She sighed. “I can tell you’re a street nigga, so I’m sure you can understand what I’m about to say. It’s just sometimes I wonder if my dad getting cancer was the universe’s design.”
“You gotta elaborate a little more on that one.”
“I loved my dad dearly, but I’m not gon’ be one to sit up here and act like he was a saint. Before Klax, he was the king of Harlem and hearing about some of the things he did used to give me nightmares. He was a very selfish man, and sometimes he had this mean streak that not even I was exempt from. So, sometimes, I wonder if him getting cancer was a way for the universe to make him pay for all of those terrible things he’s done. All of the people that he hurt.”
“If that’s the case, don’t you think the universe might do the same thing to your brother? Or you, for that matter. Blood ties never end.”
“Nah,” Kleigh shook her head and smiled fondly at the thought of her brother. “Klax is different. He doesn’t rule by stomping the little people out, and he gives back to the community. He respected my father the way a son should, but he doesn’t want to be like him. Don’t get me wrong, my brother will get shit popping if you force his hand, and that’s a side of him you don’t want to see. But he runs Harlem with love.”
“But he still sells drugs. And don’t drugs kill people?”
“True, and you know that’s something I used to battle with often. But I came to the conclusion that’s something out of his control. The drug market is always gon’ be there with or without him. My brother doesn’t sell directly to fiends, and he doesn’t have niggas on the corners either. His shit is way bigger than that. Ain’t no money in a twenty-five-dollar bag. What the fuck is that gon’ do? Fill up his gas tank? Nah. Klax’s operation ain’t even in Harlem. This is just the heart and soul. My father destroyed our community. Klax is just doing what he can to clean it up.”
Her words simmered and sizzled in his head the rest of the drive to the Italian restaurant in downtown Manhattan called Stella’s. He hoped she enjoyed pasta as much as he did because that was the place’s specialty. He’d selected it from Google and was pleased to see that the place was just as beautiful in real life as it was on the web. Once he parked, he got out of the car and opened the door for her.
“Thank you,” she smiled up at him and took his hand.
He liked the way she gripped it as they walked. It was like she was letting everyone know that she was with him. Or maybe it was that she was letting them know he was with her. Once they were inside the lavish restaurant, they were seated instantly because Tron had thought to call in a reservation ahead of time.
>
“Follow me,” the hostess said.
She was an older woman, as were the majority of the people working there. He liked the atmosphere of the place. Everyone they passed smiled and welcomed them, and their server came to their table right away after they were seated.
“Hello, my name is Rosa. I’ll be helping you today,” the woman said with a thick accent. “May I start you off with some drinks?”
Rosa looked to be in her early forties and wore a black pants suit with an apron over it. Her long hair was in a low ponytail braid that went down her back. She got her pen and notepad out and looked at Tron.
“We’ll have a bottle of your finest wine, please,” Tron said, but Kleigh shook her head.
“Do you guys have Moscato? It doesn’t matter the brand. I just hate the taste of bitter wine,” she asked Rosa. “Oh, and some water, please.”
“Of course we do,” she said. “I’ll go grab a bottle of it right away.”
“Moscato?” Tron asked Kleigh when the server was gone and gave her a humored look.
“It’s sweet, like me,” she said with a wink.
“Maybe one day I can find that out for myself,” he said.
“Maybe.”
“From what you were saying over the phone, it’s a very possible ‘maybe.’”
From across the table, Kleigh batted her long eyelashes at him. He found himself staring at her lips and wondering what they would feel like wrapped around his manhood. He kept his thoughts to himself as he started to look over his menu. When Rosa came back with the wine and waters, Kleigh was ready to order.
“Can I have this lasagna dish right here,” she said and pointed to the menu. “And can I make the salad that comes with it Caesar with Caesar dressing, please.”
“Of course,” Rosa nodded her head and jotted the order down in her notepad. “And is the garlic bread that comes with that okay with you?”
“Oh, of course! That’s what makes the meal ten times better,” Kleigh said.
“Perfect. And for the gentleman?”
“What I want isn’t on the menu,” Tron said, and a shy expression overcame Kleigh at the way he stared at her. “But I can settle for some shrimp Alfredo if you have it.”
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