The Last Kings Page 3

  “Me too,” I agreed.

  Ray shook his head at us.

  “Y’all tripping. You both saw how pissed Grandma Rae was when she found out I dropped out of college,” he reminded us.

  He was right; I had never seen Grandma Rae that upset in my life. But at the end of the day, it was what it was. No one forced her to go or stay in school, so why should I be forced to?

  “Nigga, I just want to be on; fuck college,” I said.

  “Fuck college, huh?” he chuckled. “I feel you, though.”

  “Yup. I’m tryna be like you when I grow up. I just don’t know why you hitting the block for a nigga that’s losing to the game. The streets are talking.”

  “I don’t work for Coopa. I work with Coopa. Fuck what the streets are saying. This is a business, and the only people who really know what the fuck is going on are the people in the business.”

  I rolled my eyes in a “Whatever” like fashion and looked out my window before the conversation went on any further. I noticed we reached a restaurant a few blocks away from Grandma Rae’s house that I never even knew was there.

  “Roll your eyes at me again and in a second, you’re going to be lookin’ like Beyoncé when she fell down them fuckin’ stairs!”

  I tried not to, but I started cracking up, thinking back to when I’d first seen the video. I loved me some Beyoncé, but only a person without eyes wouldn’t think that fall was hilarious. I heard Mocha’s high-pitch laugh join mine.

  “Fuck you, Ray!” I said opening my door. “And you can’t park for shit!” I noticed that he was slightly over the line in his slot.

  Ray led the way to the little farmhouse-shaped restaurant. Once inside, the host led us to our seats, telling us our server would be right with us. We took off our coats and got comfortable in our chairs.

  “How are your cars running?” he asked us.

  Ray had also purchased Mocha and me matching BMW 128i coupes. Mine white, hers all-black. Nothing too flashy; just something to get us from point A to point B.

  “They’re good; I’m ready to be sitting on something big like you though!” Mocha beamed.

  It was well-known that Ray had an array of vehicles. All paid for. He would always say he wasn’t a predictable guy. When he pulled up, most times you wouldn’t even know it, but his truck was his baby. It was decked out with everything luxurious, and the complete outer layer was bulletproof.

  He laughed, “Naw, y’all straight. Niggas like me need more than one car.”

  In that one statement he separated himself from the two of us. My cousin was paid. Period. He recycled cars like girls recycled panties.

  “Bullshit,” Mocha waved her hand at him. “A sexy girl needs a sexy car. One she can get around in the snow in!”

  “Nah, Mocha, you just can’t drive; don’t blame the car,” I joked, and she threw a balled up napkin at me.

  “You two haven’t been out here much, have you?” Ray asked, changing the subject.

  “And if we were, I’m sure you would already know,” I gave him a smug look.

  It was hard having a life when your big cousin knew the whole city. Even if he hadn’t seen us in forever, he would know about what we were doing and who we were doing it with. Ray tried to give us some kind of independence post-high school after we complained about having his goons with us at all times. But I knew that he never really gave in to that; he just made his goons unseen to our eyes.

  “You’re really like the fuckin’ feds, Ray,” Mocha shook her head. “Can’t even get my cat scratched without your ass all up in my shit!”

  The look on Ray’s face said he wanted to reach across the table and wring her neck, but he played it cool. Mocha and I were the only ones besides Grandma Rae and Ray’s best friend Tyler who spoke their minds to him, but we knew when to shut up. At the age of twenty-four, Ray was the type of man that, when he got mad, you ducked. With his six-foot-two frame and muscular build, I could see why many were intimidated by him.

  Another thing about Ray that I admired was that no matter what he was wearing, he always carried the essence of money, such as that very moment. Eyes kept shifting to and from our table. Everyone knew who he was, but no one tried to approach.

  Despite the type of business that he was in, Ray was actually very educated and could hold a conversation with anyone about anything. Grandma Rae was upset about him dropping out of school, but she stood by his decision. She knew what Ray was doing, but what could she do? Ray was a grown man in his own big house; he wasn’t sheltered under her roof anymore. If Mocha and I followed in his footsteps, I knew it would break her heart. She wanted me to be some amazing doctor or something, but I knew that wasn’t me. I eyed Ray from my side of the table and tried to gather my thoughts before I opened my mouth.

  “How’d you find this place?” Mocha asked, looking around the restaurant.

  The place was called All Or Nothing, and it was packed with people. The aroma was wonderful, and the design was very high end and classy. There were red booths against the walls of the square-shaped restaurant and black tables with red chairs in the middle. On the walls were replicas of famous framed paintings, and all of the help wore white-collared shirts, black pants, and red bow ties. I was completely unaware of such a nice restaurant in a bad neighborhood.

  “I know the owner,” Ray shrugged. “I gave him a little something to start the place, and ever since, whenever I come in, he hooks me up.”

  “Nigga, you know everybody!” Mocha shook her head.

  “It’s called networking; try it sometime,” he said just as our waitress came to take our orders. “Speaking, of which, Mocha, how was your trip to Atlanta?”

  Mocha looked slightly caught off guard, but it only lasted a split second.

  “It was OK; it’s not like I was there on vacation. We went to some bullshit-ass museum and looked at some dead muhfucka’s remains,” she mumbled, not really looking at him.

  I couldn’t help wondering why she was acting so strange suddenly. She didn’t really speak about the trip to Atlanta she’d taken with her anatomy class; I just figured it must have been boring, and she didn’t want to dwell on it. Mocha’s face spelled relief when a pretty young waitress approached our table. Good thing too, because I was about to call her out.

  “Hi, my name is Tammie, and I’ll be your server today. First, can I start you off with some drinks?” she asked us while staring hard into Ray’s eyes.

  She was a cute chick, a little skinny, though. I was feeling her short haircut. Her hair was curly in an asymmetric bob with light auburn highlights.

  “For us,” I motioned toward Mocha and me, “lemonade, light ice. And for him, a Pepsi, cold but no ice, please.” I knew them like the back of my hand and when she heard no complaints, Tammie wrote it down on her little notepad.

  “OK, got it,” Tammie said. “Are you guys ready to place your orders?” She smiled at Ray with eyes that said she hoped he wanted to place an order for her.

  “Let me get two bacon cheeseburgers and a crispy chicken Caesar salad, if you don’t mind,” Ray smiled back at her.

  “One of those burgers better be for me, Ray. You know I ain’t fucking with no salad!” Mocha exclaimed, acting like her loud self again.

  Our waitress laughed at her comment as she scribbled some more in her notepad.

  “OK, I’ll get this right out for y’all,” and with one more flirtatious look to Ray, she went to put in our order.

  “Damn, is she switching hard enough?” Mocha shook her head. “Bitches go crazy over you, Ray. I, personally, don’t see it,” she teased.

  “Whatever,” he waved her comment off. “These bitches just want somebody to save them, and I’m not that nigga. Especially after Shira’s nasty ass.”

  “That dumb bitch.” I got mad at the mention of her name.

  Shira was Ray’s ex who had faked a pregnancy with his baby. Long story short, I called her out on it, she got mad, and I broke her jaw. My outer layer may have bee
n prissy, but I came up in the streets. Growing up with my mom and her men, seeing death and violence was nothing. I honestly had wanted to break more than just her jaw for trying to cash out on my cousin, but she dropped after one hit, so what could I do? Moral of that story was . . . Don’t mess with my family. I guess she learned her lesson because her banged-up face was no longer seen in Detroit.

  “Ray, make sure your dick is strapped at all times. These hoes these days have no morals,” I told him seriously.

  “Chill, Say!” Ray told me. “I’m not checking for a bitch right now. I’m all about my paper.”

  “That don’t mean you aren’t fucking them!”

  Women were nasty. Too quick to try to trap somebody with money. I guess when it came down to it, I was as overly protective of him, as he was over me. Tammie came back with our drinks and confirmed that our orders should be out within a few minutes. I sipped my lemonade, and the three of us sat in silence for a few moments waiting for our food to arrive. When it finally did, we all dug in like we hadn’t eaten in ages. I took a pause from eating and stared at Ray going to town on his burger. I knew the time was now or never.

  “What?” he asked.

  I figured then was a better time than any to ask him the question that I’d been dying to ask. I was going to butter it up, but I decided not to. Ray and I had always been straightforward with each other, and I wasn’t about to change that.

  “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.”

  Chapter 3

  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 he
ad 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.”