Carl Weber's Kingpins (5 page)

David snapped back to reality and couldn’t believe how different the woman before him was from the one he had met. The Angela he had met didn’t care about what he had or what he could offer. She simply enjoyed his company and the fact that he had dreams. Money meant nothing to her and he would have bet millions that she would have stayed by his side if he only had a dime to his name. The Angela now would have left him so fast he wouldn’t have even had the chance to begin counting to ten.

“I always thought you were out of my league,” King David said. “I used to feel like I needed money and flashy things to impress you, but you didn’t care about that back then. Or that is what you led me to believe, anyways. Now money is all you care about. We have so much of it that you would think we could find something better to talk about at lunch. So yes, Angela, please tell me. What happened? Or maybe this has always been the real you, and you’ve just chosen now to show the world your true colors.”

Knowing that she would not have an answer, King David reached, grabbed his glass of Hennessy on the rocks, and took a sip.

Detective Terrance Avery paced back and forth in his office trying to figure out where he had gone wrong in his plan. His feet had touched every inch of his office as he threatened to wear a hole in the bottom of his Stacy Adams. He tried hard to understand and put his finger on his mistake. He just didn’t understand how he let his opportunity slip away.

“I had that motherfucker right where I wanted him!” he shouted to nobody in particular. “That motherfucker calls himself King. I’ll show you what a king does!”

He went to his desk and flipped all of the loose-leaf paper up in the air and knocked everything else off of it. He had just gotten the news that the star witness in his investigation of David Mason, otherwise known as King David, had gone missing. Antonio Lesley had proven to be a key part of his whole investigation when he was picked up during a routine traffic stop. In his possession Antonio had a kilo of heroin; and, at first when they brought him in, he was tough cookie to crack. He wanted so badly to prove his loyalty; however, when he was informed of how much time he was facing, he started singing like a bird. Detective Avery soon learned that Antonio was nothing but a shooter and a runner for none other than the notorious King David Mason. Detective Avery assured Antonio that as long as he complied with the law then all the charges against him would be dropped and he wouldn’t have to worry about missing any time away from his beloved family. He was to wear a wire whenever he conducted business, and report back to Detective Avery once a week.

Everything was going good until one night when he went on a date with Davita Mason. At first Detective Avery was against it, but the more he thought about it the more he figured it would be good for business. He was supposed to contact Detective Avery the moment he got home from his date and then deliver the recording device that he had taped to him. Detective Avery hoped that the recording would hold incriminating evidence of the illegal dealings of her father’s business. However, that was the last day anyone heard from Antonio. Their trace stopped at the restaurant where the two went to dine. After sending some men there to investigate, Detective Avery was informed that the wire was found in the Dumpster behind the establishment. He called Antonio’s phone back to back but received no answer; it went straight to voicemail every time.

Detective Avery wasn’t naïve; he knew that if somehow it had come to be known that he was working with the law then there was slim chance to none that the kid was still alive. He knew his whole investigation had just blown up in his face and if, in fact, King David did know that he was being watched then all of his moves would be sharp.

“Dammit!” Detective Avery brought his closed black fists down on the wooden top of his desk before reaching for the landline in his office. He dialed a number and waited for the officer under him to answer. “Reese, I need you to go book Davita Mason right now.”

“Davita Mason?” the officer responded and Detective Avery heard the stall in his voice. “Book her on account of what?”

“She is a suspect in a murder investigation. Find her and get her here now!”

Detective Avery didn’t wait for Officer Reese to respond; he just slammed the phone down and went to take a seat behind his desk. He didn’t care how much pull the Masons thought they had in St. Louis. They had plagued the city long enough and it was his job to take them down.

* * *

“Soooo, how did your date with Mr. Handsome go?”

Day sat in the salon chair at Blessings, the celebrity salon that her family owned, and waited for her nosey hair dresser to put the finishing touches on her blow out and flat iron. She popped the spearmint gun that she was chewing as she examined the shiny pink on her freshly manicured nails. A part of her wanted to roll her eyes when Jes asked the question but she should have known what would happen when she let it slip that she had a date in the first place.

“Mr. Handsome was a lame,” she finally responded. “All these niggas here are lames and I’m starting to lose hope of ever meeting anyone on my level.”

“On your level?” Jes giggled, snipping away at any split end she could find on Day’s head. “Girl, you are too young to be worried about finding somebody on your level, okay?”

“Right!” Shonda, a chubby hairdresser, said from where she stood a couple of feet away. She was in the middle of putting highlights in an older woman’s hair. “Sit up for me, baby, thank you. But anyways, Day, Jes is right! Girl, you too young to be out here tryin’a find love. The men you like are your age, which means mentally they are five years behind you. They aren’t done playing games in these streets! So you better live your life, girl.”

“See, that’s why I knew I shouldn’t have said nothin!” Day smacked her lips and rolled her eyes, causing Jes to yank a strand of hair from her head. “Ow! Jes! What was that for?”

“I ain’t ya mama,” Jes said and thumped Day’s shoulder with her finger. “You not gon’ get smart with me, girl.”

Day couldn’t help but to smile. Although very nosey, Jes was the only woman who had ever laid a finger on Day’s head since she was a very small child. She had come to look at her like an aunt, and growing up Jes was always the one there to give her any advice she needed. The two had a bond that nobody would ever understand, but that was okay. Day talked her father into letting Jes manage the salon and putting her on salary. He would always tell her that he didn’t understand the bond they had, but he was glad she had it with somebody.

“You ain’t have to hit me, though! Or pull my hair out!”

“I grew this shit out, so I can do as I please. Shonda, you remember when this child first sat down in my chair? Oooh, Lawd! Hair was so nappy I probably cut my fingers a few times! And don’t let me get started on them edges!”

By then everybody, including Day, was doubled over, laughing. Day couldn’t be upset; she’d seen the pictures from when she was younger, and thanked God every day that her mother had stopped trying to style her hair.

“You know that’s the reason your daddy even opened this shop, don’t you?”

“I kind of had an idea.” Day smiled up at Jes. “Some days I really love you, and some days—”

“Some days what, girl?” Jes said, making a face and cocking her head. She then put one hand on her hip and held up the scissors in her other hand. “Because I got these scissors and that flat iron is still hot, so you can pick your poison.”

Day respected Jes so she didn’t finish what she was about to say; instead, she just shook her head.

“Uh-huh, that’s what I thought,” Jes said. “Now tell me the real scoop on this ‘lame’ as you like to call him.”

Before Day had a chance to respond there was a loud “ding,” letting them know that someone had just entered the shop. Out of habit all eyes went to the front glass door and the shop instantly got quiet as if a plague had just walked in. Two white officers completely in uniform stood there glaring around at all of them. One was tall and skinny with red hair, while the other was short and stocky with blond. They didn’t say anything at first, so Jes cleared her throat. “Can I help you?”

“We are here looking for a Davita Mason. You seen her?”

Instinctively Jes placed a firm hand on Day’s shoulder and glared right on back at the officers. “What you want with her?”

“She is wanted in connection to a murder,” the redhead said.

“Murder? Murdered who?” Jes exclaimed and grabbed Day’s purse from Day’s chair and placed it on a shelf behind her own body.

“It’s cool, Jes,” Day said up at her and removed the hand gently from her shoulder. She then spoke to the officers and nonchalantly put a finger in the air. “I’m Davita Mason. So I take it you’re here to book me, huh?”

The officers wasted no time walking to where she was, where they yanked her up from the seat so that they could put her in cuffs. Day snatched her shoulder away from them because they were handling her so roughly for no reason and like she was a man.

“Now you mothafuckas hold on one minute! This here shop has cameras so you best think twice about how you handle her! Stop grabbing her like that dammit!”

The officers paid Jes no mind and continued as they pleased. Once they had Day in cuffs they pushed her forcefully to the doors, reading her all of her rights.

“Jes, call my daddy!” Day yelled right before the glass door shut.

The roughness didn’t stop there. They threw her in the back seat of the police vehicle and did not bother strapping her in the way they were legally obligated to. Day being Day sat in the back and talked her mess the entire ride to the precinct.

“Y’all must not know who I am, huh?” She chuckled. “Stupid mothafuckas. Don’t worry, though, I’ll get your names and pass them along.”

The redheaded officer turned his head so that he could look back at where she sat with her hands cuffed behind her back. He eyed her through the bars that separated them.

“Is that a threat, bitch?” he growled and turned up his lip. “In my world nobody gives a fuck about who your daddy is.”

Day stared back into his eyes so coldly she saw him waver.

“I swear to God it is,” she told him icily. “In my world my niggas don’t give a fuck about them badges. We paint them mothafuckas every day.”

The officer swallowed the lump in his throat and turned quickly back to the front. He had heard rumors of the terrible things that David Mason had done; he didn’t know why he thought his daughter would be any different. They were, after all, booking her for murder. He was more than happy to get to the precinct so that he could go on about his day.

When they walked her to the interrogation room and removed her cuffs, she whipped around to face them. Instead of looking them in the face, her eyes went straight to their badges. She smirked before taking a seat and calmly clasping her hands together on top of the table like a schoolgirl. The officers looked at each other for a moment, already knowing what had just happened. They had heard that King David was the devil, and they were certain that they had just met his spawn.

When they left Day suddenly remembered the way Jes smoothly had removed her purse from the chair so the police wouldn’t bring it with them. Jes had been around for a long time; she had seen a lot and done a lot. Day was almost positive that she was clearing the prepaid phone of all of its contents and was about to toss it that very moment. Day also was mentally preparing herself for the verbal lashing she would get for carrying around an unregistered weapon in broad daylight. Jes knew a little of Day’s life, but what Day hadn’t told her was that since she graduated she had been putting in work for her father. Day figured that if one day she would be a head of the table she might as well break herself in. She had always been cutthroat, and being heartless came easy, especially with a mother like hers. Since Angela always doted over David Jr. like he was some kind of golden statue, Day took to clinging to her father. Without knowing it she had become almost an exact replica of him and she saw the bigger picture that David Jr. didn’t.

Although born with a silver spoon in her mouth Day always took the time to hang out in every hood spot she could find. She lived and breathed the street life and her friends would often joke and say that she was like New New from the movie
ATL.
She knew where her father came from and she related to that life more than the sheltered one her mother tried to force upon her. David Jr. went to private schools from elementary all the way to high school but Day refused. When she was about to enter high school she begged her father to put her in public school so that she would be able to view life the way normal kids did. She smiled to herself, remembering the conversation between her and her parents.

The sound of a door slamming snapped Day from memory lane. She didn’t jump; she just looked up to see who was in a bad mood.

She didn’t recognize the tall dark-skinned man. She gave him a once-over and analyzed his hard face, low-cut hair, and cheap blue suit.
Rat.
Day hated the police, especially black officers simply because she felt that they were sellouts. They turned their backs on their own people and culture just to please a white face that really didn’t care if they lived or died.