Nana was well aware of where the money came from. Kip wasn’t a choirboy, nor was he a nine-to-five working man. He was a proprietor of the streets. His funds were illegal capital and probably blood money, but when it reached her hands, his sins were forgotten.
Kip hugged his Nana goodbye and left the building. He got back into his car and drove to the city with his pockets almost fifteen thousand dollars lighter.
***
Kip sat shirtless on his bed in the early morning, watching NY1 to see if there were any updates on the Jason Miller shooting. He wanted to know if the cops had any leads in the case. The news anchor mentioned that there was surveillance in the area, and they showed surveillance footage of a man leaving the crime scene, but the footage was grainy and unclear. There was no telling it was him. If this was the only thing the NYPD was working with, then Kip felt like he was in the clear. He had been robbing and killing people for a long time. He knew how to rob and when to rob, and how to kill and get away with it.
Now that he had another job to do, he started to prepare himself for it. Big Sean had to be taken out by week’s end. The fifty thousand dollars was needed. Papa John and Devon were already aware of the job. He trusted no one but them. It was just when and how.
Satisfied that he had gotten away with the robbery of three NBA players, Kip turned off the TV and stood up. Like clockwork, he started to exercise in his bedroom. He did fifty push-ups and fifty sit-ups. He flexed his muscles in the mirror and was satisfied with his image. He downed some bottled water and then lit a Black & Mild.
He then took a look out of his bedroom window. It was another sunny day with clear skies. Weather on the Ones said temperatures would reach eighty degrees today. This year’s spring was warmer than last year’s, but who was complaining? It was time to take advantage of the warm weather after a brutal winter with several blizzards.
With some time on his hands, Kip decided to get dressed and head over to St. Nicholas Park to watch his little brother play chess. They were having an impromptu chess tournament today in the park. Though chess wasn’t everybody’s favorite game, it still brought out the ballers and a nice-size crowd to watch some of the best of the best play the game for money. Kip checked his bedroom, and his brother was already gone. He didn’t want to miss his brother playing and winning. It was already reaching noon, so Kip hurried to get dressed. He looked handsome in black cargo shorts with white-and-black Nikes and a wife-beater.
The park was swamped with people on a sunny afternoon. It was starting to look like Rucker Park during a celebrity basketball game. Harlem was alive with people everywhere, and a lot of get-money niggas were at the park betting big money on the chess games. It was unique to see the betting frenzy. Kid was at the center of it all, with a long line of competitors ready to dethrone him.
It was loitering at its finest. There was music blaring from various cars parked on the city street, where it looked like a car show with people trying to outdo each other with flashy rims, tinted windows, candy paint jobs, and sound systems, and, of course, liquor and champagne. Women strutted around everywhere, some dressed like they were in the club.
Eshon, Brandy, and Jessica were there too, taking in the excitement and looking good in their sexy attire, matching beauty and style with the other sexy girls in the park.
Kip arrived with Papa John and Devon. Kip was looking for Kid.
When Eshon noticed Kip in the park, she beamed with excitement. Damn, if he didn’t look good with his muscles showing through the white tank top he wore, his chain gleaming and swinging. Eshon felt Kip was a fine-ass thug. He damn sure was her paradise. She was eager to approach him and say hello. Maybe they could go somewhere private and talk.
But she wasn’t the only girl with eyes for Kip. Several ladies came at Kip with wide smiles and flirty attitudes. He even gave a few ladies a hug.
Eshon frowned. These hoes were becoming a little too friendly with her ex-boyfriend, and she didn’t like it at all.
But Kip was being Kip. He was like the Kobe Bryant of Harlem.
Kid noticed Kip watching him play from the sidelines. He smiled at his older brother and gave him a head nod. Kid was playing a guy named Panasonic from Washington Heights in his second game. He was giving Kid a run for his money, but Kid soon figured out his strategy and was playing possum, pretending to be dead on the chess board with his timid movements. Then, out of nowhere, he executed a move that Panasonic didn’t see coming, using the Sicilian Defense. His opening was an odd one, but Kid saw his closing. He felt amped with Kip watching him play.
Eshon marched toward Kip. She wanted a hug from him too. In fact, she wanted more than a hug. She wanted to show these bitches that were sweating him that she was more to him than some regular bitch.
“Hey, Kip,” Eshon called out eagerly.
Kip looked her way and managed to smile.
Eshon wrapped her arms around him tightly and passionately. His physique in her hold was refreshing for her. She attempted to kiss him on the lips, yearning for a deep, long French kiss, but Kip pulled away from her. He knew what she was doing, and he wasn’t having any parts of it.
“You ain’t my girl anymore, Eshon. You need to chill wit’ all that affection shit,” he said roughly.
His statement damn near broke her heart into two pieces. She felt stupid and played. She noticed smirks on a few bitches’ faces, and she wanted to scratch the smug looks off their stupid grills.
Kip stepped away from her and went to be with his little brother. Brandy offered words of encouragement. “He’s just being an ass, Eshon. You’re too good for him. If he can’t see that you’re a good thing in his life—that you truly got his back—then fuck him. You can have any nigga out here, girl.”
Brandy’s words were easier said than done. She didn’t want any nigga out there. She wanted Kip. Eshon couldn’t get over him. She didn’t know if she could ever move on from him. If he ever got with someone else and entered into a serious relationship or, even worse, got the next bitch pregnant, Eshon felt that she would truly die.
Eshon wanted to cry, but she kept her composure and sucked it up. It was a nice day, and she wanted to enjoy it. Kip remained distant from her.
Kid’s third match was with a guy named Junior, presumed to be one of the best players in the Tri-State area. He’d even won a few major chess tournaments nationwide and had the trophies to prove it. Junior, an old head from Brooklyn, was highly skilled at the game.
Kid and Junior were locked tight into a concentrated game. It was like Tyson against Muhammad Ali, with big money placed on them both.
Mark Spark, a major drug dealer from Brooklyn, was watching the game from the sidelines. It was his Uncle Junior up against The Kid, and he had placed ten thousand dollars on his uncle to win.
Kip and his crew went up the block for a moment, while The Kid had the tournament on lockdown. Though Kip liked watching his brother play, the game didn’t hold his interest. So he found something more intriguing to capture his attention—some pretty girls with big booties and easygoing attitudes.