The Last Kings (4 page)

“When are you going to put me on?” I just came out and asked like it was nothing.

As soon as the question was out of my mouth, the two of them stopped chewing their food abruptly. Mocha hadn't realized how serious I was until that very moment, and I didn't think she knew what to say. I hadn't warned her that I was going to bring the matter to Ray, but the anxious expression on her face as she looked at Ray awaiting his answer let me know she was on my side. I knew Ray hadn't expected that question either, but he regained his ability to speak quickly and wiped the surprise from his face.

“Shut up with that shit, Sadie. You don't know what you're asking for, shorty,” Ray said, putting a fry in his mouth.

“Nah, for real, Ray. You think I'm playing?” I lowered my voice although the restaurant was very noisy. “I've been thinking about this for a while now. You think I would bring this up to you without thinking it through? I've done all my research on it. I lived the lifestyle for a long time, so I know what I'd be getting myself into. I just need you to say yes.”

“That's funny,” he scoffed. “I didn't know you could study to be a drug dealer. But since we're talking real shit, Sadie, let me be one hundred with you. They call this shit a game, but ain't nobody playing with it. One way in, and no way out. Everybody's not made out for this life, especially not my little cousins. So quiet that noise.”

“Quiet what noise, Ray? You knew who my momma was, and the shit she was about. I was raised around it, so I guess you can say I'm already in it. Blood deep! You know this! I just need a connect and a starting point. And don't tell me what I'm cut out for, because niggas probably said the same thing about you. But now look at you.”

“You don't get it, Say. From the outside looking in, shit looks all gravy. Seeing my pockets full and my whips, you would think it was easy. Nah. You have to be ready every second of every day to pull the trigger on a nigga. You have to come to terms with the fact that most niggas
ain't
loyal. It's more than them little niggas you see on the corners making those baby-ass moves. This is a business. This is about keeping the city happy. Everything goes hand in hand. Everybody eats, but to be all the way real, it's not too happy right now. It's not the time to take any new recruits.”

“Because of Coopa? So why you working for him then?” I inquired, not quite getting where Ray was going with what he was saying.

“I already told you I don't work
for
that nigga. I work
with
him, but you wouldn't understand, Sadie.”

“Enlighten me then, Ray!” I raised my voice a little.

“Sadie, not right now,” Mocha lightly touched my leg.

I sighed and backed down, but I was not finished. Ray was confusing me. He was saying he didn't work for Coopa, he worked with Coopa. But if Coopa was king of Detroit, what was the difference? I reluctantly continued eating my salad so that I wouldn't say anything that I would regret later. I would have gotten up and walked out had it not been for the fact that I didn't drive my car.

“Say, look—” Ray started but was interrupted by the ringing of his phone. “Hello?” he answered.

“You OK?” Mocha asked me while Ray spoke into his phone.

“I'm fine,” I lied.

“I just can't believe you were serious about this shit,” she said to me, shaking her head.

Before I could reply, I heard Ray's voice get louder.

“What the fuck do you mean, nigga?” Ray was calm, but his tone held an underlying anger. His whole demeanor had changed in a matter of seconds.

Mocha and I exchanged confused looks as we continued listening to Ray's heated conversation.

“I'm on my way. When I get there, you better hope that shit reappears; otherwise, all y'all muhfuckas is dead. Ask y'all to do one simple fuckin' thing and you can't even do that. Does Coopa know?”

I heard the voice on the other end of the phone speaking quickly.

“Nah, fuck that shit, nigga. I keep y'all muhfuckas strapped. If Coopa's shit is gone, then that means y'all should all be dead. Period. I'm pulling up in five.”

Ray hung up the phone, pulled out a hundred-dollar bill from the pocket of his Levis and dropped it on the table.

“Let's go.”

“Ray, what's going on?” I asked trying to keep my pace with him in the coldness of the winter air. He ignored me and got in the truck. “Ray, what the fuck is going on?” I asked again.

“You want this life?” he finally answered, looking straight-ahead. “You want to be part of this game? I'm about to show you what happens to niggas who fuck up in it.”

Ray pulled up to a house about five blocks away from Grandma Rae's, and the car was silent when he stopped. The house wasn't much of a looker with the white paint chipping and the crooked brick stairs leading to the front door. In the driveway was a brand-new black Mercedes coup not even plated yet. It was a little dirty, because of the mud and snow on the ground. Ray parked behind it and got out of the car without a word to Mocha or me. I wasn't about to just sit in the car, so I hopped out after him. By the time Mocha got out of the car, Ray was already inside the house.

“What the fuck is going on?” Mocha huffed in my ear as we made our way to the door.

I just shrugged. I didn't know what was about to happen. But when I looked at Ray's face while he was driving, I knew something serious had gone down. We strolled through the door after Ray without knocking, and as soon as we entered, I felt as though I was walking into a crime scene. The place was trashed. The living room was right in front of you when you walked through the door; all the furniture was flipped over. The television screen had a big hole in it and was lying on its side. There was a big tan couch flipped at such a crazy angle, looking at it made me feel awkward. I felt and heard the crunching of glass as Mocha and I made our way to the back of the one-story house toward the kitchen. I knew whatever had happened hadn't been anything good, and listening to Ray's voice travel from the kitchen, I knew he wasn't happy.

When Mocha and I finally made our way to the kitchen, we saw four men standing before Ray. Fear read all over their faces, and anguish was all over Ray's. They were lined up in front of the refrigerator, and when we made our presence known their eyes shifted to us. We stood away to the farther right side, out of the way, to observe the scene at hand. Ray ignored the two of us and kept his eyes on the men in front of him.

“So what the fuck is up?” Ray put his hands in his pockets and shrugged his shoulders. “My man Jay here,” he nodded his head at one of the light-skinned men standing closer to Mocha and I, “said y'all got hit a few hours ago. Everything is gone, is that right?”

Nobody dared to speak. Ray had them spooked, and to be honest, I was a little shook too. Ray's voice was low and calm . . . but deadly. His vibe controlled the temperature of the room, and the room was cold. He walked to one of the men to the far left end of the kitchen.

“What happened, Little?” he asked him.

Little's name fit him perfectly. He was short and dark skinned with big fat French braids in his hair. He blinked rapidly with Ray less than a foot away from him and seemingly tried to think of his answer.

“Man, Ray, those niggas just busted u-up in here. I don't know who the fuck been talking, but they knew this was a trap,” Little's high-pitched voice stuttered.

“So you just let them take the shit?” Ray asked rhetorically.

“N-nah, man. They was strapped h-heavy, Ray—”

“Nigga, each and every one of you muhfuckas has a burner!” Ray barked, the calm gone from his tone. “Y'all weren't on your A-game if y'all let some niggas walk up in this bitch and take the shit! Just 'cause they had guns? Nah, something in this fucking story ain't adding up.”

I inhaled sharply, not knowing what was going to happen next. Ray went to stand in front of the tall guy standing next to Little. The man ran his hand over his fade haircut and had to force himself to look at Ray.

“You and Shy ain't do shit either, huh, Tre?” Ray shook his head at the two caramel-skinned men in the middle. Both were rocking a fade haircut.

None of the men looked younger than twenty or older than twenty-five, but I would probably never know their ages. I heard Mocha's quick breaths beside me, and I wanted to comfort her, but I was too frozen in place.

“They would have killed us, man!” Tre tried to reason.

“Then y'all should have died!” Ray barked again. “All four of y'all are pussies, and you lack what we need in this business. Brains.”

Ray then did something I wouldn't have expected at a time like that. He began laughing. Hard. He waved a finger at the four of them and shook his head.

“Enough with the games, though. I'm done entertaining the bullshit,” he told them. “What's funny to me is that the only people who know about this house are Coopa, me, and you four. We are the
only
ones who also know when the product and money will even
be
in this bitch. So you know what I'm getting at, right?” He nodded his head at them. “One or all of you niggas is a snake. And I don't need any snake-ass muhfuckas on my team. Fifty stacks gone. Twenty bricks gone. I'ma just say this shit, you young niggas are bold as hell.”

“Nah, man—” Jay tried to say.

“Shut the fuck up!” Ray got in his face, causing him to jump back. “When I lose money, it's not a good thing. But when Coopa loses money,” Ray removed a 9-mm pistol from his waist, “niggas die.”

My heart began to beat uncontrollably fast. I couldn't believe what I was witnessing. It was the first time I'd actually seen Ray on the job firsthand.

“Oh shit,” Mocha breathed, grabbing my arm and trying to back us further into the kitchen wall.

“Now
what
the fuck really happened?” Ray asked screwing a silencer on his gun. “Jay, that's a nice Mercedes out front. Looks like you just came up on some money . . . or are about to.”

Ray and Jay locked eyes, and there were a few seconds of silence. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Shy and Tre reach for their hips but before they could even aim, I heard two small
spiffs
. Two round circles appeared in the middle of their foreheads, and the refrigerator behind them was sprayed with blood. Beside me, Mocha jumped but didn't make a sound.

“Ray, you know I wouldn't set no shit like this up!” Little pleaded like a little bitch.

“I don't know,” Ray cocked his gun. “That's why all of you have to die. I'd rather be safe than sorry.”

He fired again, and Little slumped. His eyes averted back to Jay, who was literally shaking where he stood. I watched the scene before me like I was at an opening at midnight for the latest comedy.

“Jay, Coopa put you in charge, nigga, and
this
is what you do? I know those niggas weren't smart enough to come up with no shit like this. What the fuck, man?”

“Ray,” Jay threw his hands up. “Come on, bro, we boys!”

Ray smirked at his futile attempt at throwing their friendship into play.

“Boys?” Ray spat. “Nigga, we
ain't
boys.”

“Man, all right, coo. But you and I both know Coopa ain't doing shit for the city. That nigga don't give a fuck about nobody but his fuckin' self. Not even the niggas out here in the streets every day putting in work for
that
nigga. Fifty bands ain't shit to him! He's sitting on millions, fuck him! I have to eat, son; got shit I have to handle. And since that nigga ain't giving, why not take? Ray, the streets are hungry, and they're talking.”

“Talking?” It seemed that some of the things that Jay was saying sparked Ray's interest, although his gun never lowered.

“Yea, nigga. Talking. Muhfuckas don't like how Coopa been handling his business, even called his product bullshit. You know better than me, Ray. You know Coopa ain't doing right in the game.”

“All right, Jay.” Ray nodded. “I feel you on what you're saying and all, but who the fuck are you to take matters into your own hands? Robin Hood, nigga?”

“Real shit, Ray, everybody knows Coopa wouldn't be shit without you. That nigga would have been fell off if you weren't on his team. You should be running shit, not him. This money could be the start of ya' empire, nigga. And I would be on your team.”

“First off, nigga, I know all of this. Second, I plan on being king sooner than later, but when it happens, why the fuck would I want a snake like you on my team? You're a smart nigga, though, just not smart enough.”

“Ray—”

“Did you think I was stupid when you called me with that bullshit-ass story? As soon as I walked in this bitch, I smelled the lie in the air. Oh, and I saw that the board you dumb muhfuckas flipped the couch over was loose. This shit ain't nothing new to me. Sadie, go pull that shit up.”

“W-what?” I asked. I had forgotten that they could see Mocha and me.

“Go pull that board up,” he instructed again, never taking his cold eyes off of Jay.

I pried my arm away from Mocha and did as I was told. I walked back into the small living-room area, glass crunching under my feet, toward where the upside-down tan couch was. The one I saw once we entered the house. I used my body to scoot it to where I had access to the board underneath it, and sure enough, it was slightly lifted aloof from the other boards. I pulled it, and it easily broke away from the floor. Underneath it was a long black duffle bag and a metal suitcase. I grabbed both, even though they were a little heavy, and lugged them back into the kitchen. I dropped both in front of Ray and Jay but curiosity got the best of me. I knelt down and unzipped the duffle bag, revealing at least twenty bricks of cocaine wrapped neatly. I also opened the suitcase and saw more Ben Franklins than I'd ever seen up close in person. I stood back up and looked at Ray who locked eyes with me before looking back at Jay.

“Sadie, what do I always tell you and Mocha?” he asked me.

I saw his right arm rise, and I took a deep breath and whispered, “All your niggas ain't loyal.”

I could still taste the words on my lips when one final shot rang out.