Reece began dragging Destiny out of the bunker, drawing inspiration from the countless stories he read of how Africans fought lions to save their loved ones. Reece felt if they could fight lions then he could brave gunshot wounds long enough to save his son’s mother. Reece knew he was on borrowed time, but if he could save his son’s mother, then he would sacrifice his life gladly. He refused to allow his son to be consigned to the same fate he had been as a child.
Emboldened, Reece managed to make it outside the bunker. The September air provided yet another renewal of energy. He dragged both of them to the Cadillac and managed to pull them up inside the car. He propped Destiny up in the seat beside him and fired the engine up. Destiny’s arm fell over Reece, and her cold flesh served as an eerie reminder of the severity of the situation.
Reece sped down the trail with hazy vision, mercy alone keeping him from crashing. Before long, he was careening down a main highway, drifting in and out of consciousness, the Cadillac swerving dangerously.
* * *
“Thank you, Mr. Wahid. If you’ll just sign here, your outpatient services will begin regularly as scheduled. Two days a week, then less or more if needed.”
Qwess took the paper, signed it, and returned it to the nurse. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Let’s go.” Qwess motioned to Hulk. Hulk turned the wheelchair around toward the elevator and started pushing Qwess toward the door.
“You ready to go shopping?” Qwess asked Prince, who was right at his side the whole time.
“Yep, is Lisa coming back soon?” Prince asked. “She is fine!”
Qwess couldn’t help but laugh. Five years old and already ready to be a player.
“She’ll be here tonight,” Qwess informed his nephew. “She said she can’t wait to see you, either. She has a surprise for you.”
“Oooh, is she bringing my mom back? My daddy said my mom will be home today.”
Qwess rubbed his nephew’s locks. “We’ll see, nephew.”
The elevator arrived. Hulk, Qwess, Prince, and a doctor entered. The moment the elevator started descending an alarm shrilled to life, followed by buzzers and sirens.
“What’s going on?” Qwess asked the doctor.
“This is the emergency protocol,” the doctor explained, answering his phone. He listened to the voice on the other end, and his face turned red.
“What happened?” Qwess repeated.
“A car crashed into the building downstairs! They’re evacuating the entire first floor downstairs! We have to go through the auxiliary exit. Come on.”
The elevator slid open, and they followed the doctor through the alternate exit. The doctor showed them to the basement where they easily found the Rolls-Royce. Hulk loaded Qwess and Prince in and followed the instructions to the alternate route.
Traffic was backed up from the original parking lot through the alternate route.
When they rounded the corner to where the crash happened, Qwess strained to see because of the crowd of onlookers already cornered around the scene. It was too congested, so Qwess gave up. He reclined back in the chair to play Prince on the PlayStation system attached to the back of the front seat.
Hulk followed the traffic line a little more and was able to receive a clear view of the car smashed into the building. “Damn, that look like Reece’s car,” Hulk commented. “Whoever it is, they dead. Blood everywhere. I can see it from here.”
Hulk wasn’t lying. Blood was splattered on the windows so thick it looked like tint.
“Let me see.” Qwess lifted up dramatically and froze. “Oh, shit! Not my brother! STOP the car! Stop the fucking car! That’s him! That’s him!” Qwess saw Reece being hoisted out onto a stretcher drenched in blood. “Let’s go, man. Take me over there,” ordered Qwess.
Hulk was already jerking the suicide door open and hoisting Qwess on his shoulder. Prince screamed in terror, bringing them back to reality.
“Hold up! He can’t see this,” Qwess said. “Just take me over there.”
Hulk put Qwess back into the car. “I’ll go see what’s up and let you know,” Hulk suggested.
Qwess wasn’t too fond of the idea, but thought it best. If it was a dead Reece, Prince definitely didn’t need to see him like that. “A’ight, hurry up.”
Hulk ran through cars to the scene. He bypassed authorities and was able to see the Cadillac up close and personal. He arrived just in time to witness medics pulling another bloodied body from the car. It was a half-naked female. Upon closer inspection, Hulk realized it was Destiny. She was barely dressed. Her clothes were torn into shreds. What happened? thought Hulk.
The Rolls horn blaring snapped Hulk out of his thoughts. He peered over and saw Qwess hanging from the window with his phone smashed to his ear. Hulk ran back to the car.
“Yo, what’s up?” demanded Qwess.
“It’s him. Some strange shit going on. Ole girl messed up, too. Something happened. Blood is everywhere!”
Qwess covered his face momentarily. “Is he . . . you know?”
“Nah, I don’t think so.”
“Let’s go find out. Doe on his way.”
* * *
Doe bust through the hospital doors erratically with his wife trailing behind in a funk.
“Where is he!? Where is he?!” Doe demanded to know.
“Who, sir?” an attentive receptionist asked.
“My fuckin’ cousin, Reece Kirkson! Where is he?!” Doe repeated. He was on the verge of tears.
“Sir, if you calm down I’ll take you where everyone else is, but you must be calm,” the attendant pleaded. She knew just who he was talking about. Ever since he and the woman were admitted three hours ago, they’d been the talk of the hospital. Cape Fear Valley Hospital had never seen so much drama.
Doe stepped off the elevator among friends and family. Everyone was present: Qwess, Hulk, Amin, Alysia, Fatimah, Khalid, and Aminah—everyone who meant who meant anything to their circle, including Flame and 8-Ball.
“Yo, what’s up?” Doe asked. “How are they?”
Qwess rolled over to Doe in his wheelchair.
“It don’t look good, brother,” he informed him.
“What happened?”
“Nobody knows for sure, but Reece was shot six times.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Shit is baaaad.”
“So what happened?”
Qwess shrugged his shoulders.
“Damn.”
Qwess looked closely at Doe. “What happened to your face?”
Doe looked away. “Long story.”
“Um-hmm.”
A doctor emerged from the back with a solemn expression on his face. He wanted to speak to Reece’s parents. No one stepped up with that title, which didn’t surprise the doctor. Young black men checked in to the hospital every day without parents.
Doe finally came forward. The doctor did a double take at the streaks of blood on his face, but said nothing of it.
“I’m his closest family,” Doe said. The doctor nodded and took Doe back.
Upon entering the room, Doe observed two beds with all types of monitors attached to them. On the first bed was Destiny. The second bed contained a bloated man, who looked like Reece in the face, but this man was at least 350–400 pounds. Attached to both Destiny and the bloated man were every medical device possible, it seemed.
“So, you know the young lady also?” Doc asked. Doe nodded. “Son, I’m going to be honest, neither one of them should live another hour.”
Doe’s knees became weak.
“I’m sorry to sound so harsh, but I must be honest.”
Doe nodded. “I understand, but where is my cousin?”
“Who?” The doctor looked at Doe strangely.
“Kirkson. Reece Kirkson.”
“That’s him right there.” The doctor pointed to the second bed. Doe gagged aloud. That monstrosity is Reece? “The trauma to the body instigated internal swelling to protect the o
rgans,” the doctor explained.
Doe walked over to Reece’s bed. He noted the weight gain due to the swelling. Even his lips were swollen and black. Bandages covered his entire middle torso, and his eyes were open in theory only. A glaze that covered his pupils indicated Reece was already gone.
A single tear dropped from Doe’s eye.
Destiny began thrashing violently in her bunk, and Doe rushed to her bed. Destiny was conscious, although slightly. She recognized Doe through the drug-induced haze that had become her life.
She attempted to talk. “My son, t-take ca—” She coughed violently. Doe looked away until Destiny gripped his hand, determined to get her point across. She tried to speak again. “Promise me you’ll get my son,” she wheezed.
“I don’t—”
“Promise me!” She repeated with all the strength she could muster. Destiny was determined.
Doe finally relented. “Okay,” he whispered.
Destiny nodded weakly. Her eyes rolled back in her head . . .
The machine beeped incessantly as the doctor fiddled with the numerous devices to strive to alleviate the problems. Too bad he didn’t realize Destiny had no more problems. Other doctors rushed into the room to help. While they did that, Doe slipped back over to Reece. Looking at his cousin, Doe felt so many emotions, but one thing he knew for sure and two things for certain. One: Reece wouldn’t want to live as a vegetable. Two: Reece wouldn’t want pity. So Doe did what he knew Reece would want, if he could he speak. He waited until no one was focused on him and . . . he pulled the plug on the machine.
King Reece was dead within minutes.
Epilogue
One Year Later
Qwess exited the Aston Martin with his cane in one hand and his four-month old son, Reece, in the other. His wife, Lisa Ivory, shut the door, then helped him down the gravel trail.
Up ahead, Qwess could see his destination clearly. The green marble mausoleum shimmered in the September sun. Standing outside the tomb was Doe, who hugged Qwess, and Lisa, who hugged Niya while congratulating her on her pregnancy. She was expected to deliver any day, which was why Qwess and his family were in town.
Qwess had moved to Jamaica and split his time between there and L.A. After Reece’s death, he needed to get away for a while, not just to recover physically but mentally as well. Lisa helped him in a big way. It was in Jamaica that she found out she was pregnant. Turned out the very first time they went to Jamaica, Qwess had impregnated her. After finding out about the pregnancy, they arranged to get married. Only immediate family were flown in for the ceremony. Lisa’s childhood friend Ruquiya was vexed when she found out. However, when it was explained to her that the marriage wouldn’t stop their thing, she fell in line. Qwess never pictured himself in a serious relationship with a bisexual woman, but Lisa possessed so many positive qualities that her lifestyle could be accepted also. Additionally, it kept excitement in the union. A man could tire of the same snatch every night, so with Lisa’s “thing” he could have his cake and eat it, too.
“How was the flight?” Doe asked Qwess.
“Cool. It’s always uneventful when you use the clear port.” Qwess laughed.
“No doubt,” Doe cosigned.
They began to talk about Reece, which caused them to reminisce about his and Destiny’s funeral.
The funeral was one of the most lavish the Carolinas had ever seen. Destiny and Reece were put to rest in a specially made casket that allowed them to be side by side inside of it. Of course, the entire Crescent Crew was there, except Samson. He was just being extradited back to North Carolina from Georgia to stand charges on the incident he was eventually convicted and sentenced to fifteen years for.
Some of the older members of the crew objected to Destiny being buried with Reece. After all, she was part of the reason Reece fell. The only chink in the armor of the Crescent Crew. However, after Qwess took it back and got real gangsta, they calmed down and let things go unencumbered. One of the most respected gods from up top delivered Reece’s eulogy. After Born spoke, Qwess stood to deliver one of Reece’s unreleased rhymes. It was then the world knew who Mysterio was. After applause, Qwess stepped down, the funeral closed out, and the funeral procession made its way to the reception (Reece was being entombed so there was no burial). Every car in the procession, including Doe’s family and Qwess’s family in the Bentley limos, bumped the song “My Life” from Noriega’s first solo album. It was the theme song for the funeral because it matched Reece’s life perfectly. To commemorate the occasion, Niya and Doe wore orange-and-blue Bo Jacksons that day.
Niya and Doe’s marriage was stronger than ever. The day of the hotel incident, Niya was seriously considering walking, but when the phone call came over about Reece, Doe broke down. She couldn’t leave her husband at a time like that. He was too vulnerable. Plus she loved him. When he hurt, she hurt. She still had intentions of leaving, but when Reece and Destiny died it put everything in perspective for her. She forgave her husband, and he showed her a love like never before. Now, as a direct result of that (and the tantric sex class they enrolled in) they were about to give Prince a sister. As for Dana, word had it she had another industry bigwig sprung.
“Let’s go on inside,” suggested Doe. He put his key into the lock and opened the shrine.
The smell of frankincense and myrrh massaged their nostrils. They all stepped inside, besides Prince. He waited cautiously by the door. After much prodding by Doe, he entered.
The mausoleum walls were ivory. On each side of the wall were slats that resembled marble bleachers. They really were small treasure chests. On the left side were all Destiny’s jewelry, money, and important personal effects. On the right side were Reece’s. Reece had had a jewelry stash that would rival Liberace’s.
At the back of the tomb under fluorescent light were the main attractions. Sitting up high and proud on the wall were wax replicas of Reece and Destiny. The statues sat side by side in gold thrones laced with emeralds for Reece and rubies for Destiny. They wore traditional African garb. Reece sported a silk robe with his bejeweled crown necklace draped prominently on his neck, his actual crown on his bald head. Even the diamonds in his teeth could be seen through parted lips. Destiny wore a cream sarong and silk blouse.
All of this had been done just as Reece had requested in his will. Doe had been skeptical, since he definitely didn’t believe in building statues for worship or anything near that, but it was Reece’s wish and Reece’s money. The sculptures were all done that way in Africa. It was a man in Mali who specialized in this type of thing. It took almost a whole year to complete. The mausoleum had been constructed. It was just awaiting its occupants.
This was everyone’s first time seeing the finished product.
“Damn, they look so real,” everyone commented.
“I feel like that’s my nigga right there,” Qwess admitted. “This shit is crazy.”
Prince peeked from around Doe, saw his mother, and ran to touch her. She was ice cold, which scared him. Doe caught up with Prince at the door, pounding and screaming. Doe kicked himself. He hadn’t been sure how Prince would take it. He now had his answer.
“This is too spooky for me,” Niya admitted, before leaving.
“Wait up, girl,” Lisa said.
Doe opened the door, too. “I’m going to keep them company.”
Qwess whispered, “You straight?”
“Yeah.”
Doe closed the door, leaving Qwess alone inside the mausoleum.
Qwess slowly walked to the statue of Reece. He inspected it really closely, then he kissed it on the forehead.
“Rest in peace, my brother. Rest in peace.”
Before Qwess turned to walk out, he spotted the epitaph over Reece’s head. It readjust as Reece had recited it to Qwess a hundred times:
“Let me be vile and base, only
Let me kiss the hem of the veil
In which my CREATOR is shrouded.
Though I may be following the
devil,
I AM thy son, O Lord, and I
Acknowledge thee, and I feel the joy,
Without which the world cannot stand.”
DON’T MISS THE FIRST BOOK IN THE
CRESCENT CREW SERIES
Street Rap
For Reece and Qwess, being rap superstars was the dream, but in real life, nothing moved without the money. So they formed the Crescent Crew, an outfit of young, ruthless hustlers that locked the Southern drug trade in a stranglehold. They’re at the height of their power when Qwess is offered a record deal from a major label. He accepts and makes plans for his whole crew to go legit, but Reece enjoys his position as king of the streets and has no desire to relinquish his crown . . .
Available wherever books are sold
Enjoy the following excerpt from Street Rap . . .
Chapter 1
The black Tahoe crept onto the rooftop of the parking garage overlooking downtown Fayetteville and stopped. The driver lumbered his hefty frame out of the truck and stood to his full six-foot-seven-inch height. He flipped the collar up on his heavy mink coat, readjusted the sawed-off shotgun tucked beneath his arm, and scanned his surroundings for danger. Satisfied that the area was clear, he tapped on the passenger window of the truck. The tinted window eased down halfway, and a cloud of smoke was released into the air.
“It’s clear,” the giant reported.
“Good. Now go post up over there so you can see the street, make sure no funny biz popping off,” the man in the truck instructed.
The giant hesitated a moment. “You sure about this? I mean, I don’t trust these dudes like that,” he said.
The man smiled. “You worry too much, Samson. Nobody would dare violate this thing of ours again. Look around you, it’s just us and them. This is crew business, and this shit has gone on long enough. Tonight, it ends, one way or another.”
The window glided up, and the giant assumed his position near the edge of the parking garage.
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