For several weeks now, he had been low key. Though money was running low, his intuition told him to take a chill pill and relax. The neighborhood still had cops patrolling, and detectives Albright and Yang were still lurking around and still investigating the park shooting. New York homicide was relentless in solving the murders of three people.
The Nets didn’t make the playoffs, and a lot of basketball fans believed it was because of the absence of their star shooting guard. Had he not been shot, and had his career not come to a sudden end, the Brooklyn Nets would have been playing for a championship. There was absolute outrage. Folks were ready to take out their pitchforks and torches and hunt the monster themselves. The fans and the media wanted justice.
With Kip barbecuing, the ladies came out in droves to get some free food and some time with him. He was the center of attention. He looked extremely handsome with his fresh cut, long black cargo shorts, matching black Nikes, and wife-beater, his gold chain swinging.
Kid was lingering near the spontaneous cookout with a burger in his hand and a smile on his face. It was moments like these that he cherished—his brother doing something positive in his life. Though it seemed minor, to him, it was memorable. Kid was ready to get back to the park and continue his reign as the best chess player in the city, if not t
he state.
He’d done what Kip had advised, inviting a few people over to play in the apartment and staying away from St. Nicholas Park for a beat, but it just wasn’t the same. He missed the feel of the park, the concrete tables, the people around watching, and the competition.
It was a glorious afternoon, with the residents enjoying the food, the kids, the music, and Mother Nature. Kid was showing off in his wheelchair, doing wheelies and spin moves. It was impressive. Kid was laughing and playing around.
Kip smiled at his brother. This was life. No drama. Just spending time with friends and family.
Eshon and Brandy soon made their way to the makeshift barbecue. Eshon was extra excited. Seeing Kip cooking and enjoying himself was a turn-on for her. All had been forgiven from when he’d kicked her out so suddenly the next morning after sex. In fact, she was with him a week ago. They had intense sex, raw this time, and in the heat of the moment, she allowed him to come inside her. When he exploded into her, and she shuddered from her own orgasm, a million thoughts raced through her head. What if this was it? What if she was pregnant this time? Could she ever stop giving in to his needs, though she had her own needs?
Eshon continued to take chance after chance with Kip, not knowing where her fate might turn up with him. Surprisingly, after they fucked, she spent the night at his place again, and in the morning he didn’t rouse her to wake up or rush to kick her out. She had woken up to find him gone. He let her sleep in his bed. She was taken aback. What did it mean? Was Kip coming around finally? Was he about to give their relationship a second chance? She was nervous and excited at the same time.
Eshon and Brandy walked closer to the activity. She saw the sharks swimming around Kip. His being single was the smell of blood in the water to a shark, and the thirsty bitches came swimming toward him to fasten their sharp teeth around some new meat.
Brandy noticed her friend’s facial expression. She quickly said, “Just chill, Eshon. It’s a nice day, niggas is barbecuing, and we look good. Make that nigga sweat you for once.”
It was sound advice, but would she listen? Only time would tell.
Eshon had come out her apartment looking on point. If Kip wasn’t looking her way, there were plenty of niggas around gawking at her and hungry for her attention. The ladies went toward the men and women. Eshon immediately approached Kip and threw her arms around him for a loving hug. He hugged her back, and she said to him, “I missed you.”
He simply smiled.
She didn’t attempt to kiss him in public this time. She had learned her lesson. She didn’t want to look desperate around some thirsty bitches. Besides, Kip couldn’t get enough of what she had between her legs. Good pussy always brought a nigga back.
“You hungry?” he asked her.
“Of course.”
Kip placed a few more meat patties on the grill, and Brandy struck up a conversation with one of his friends.
Kid came rolling over, noticing one girl was missing in action. He looked at Eshon and asked, “Where’s Jessica? I haven’t seen her around lately.”
“Yeah. Where is she? She’s been MIA for a moment now,” Kip said.
Eshon shrugged. “I don’t know. She ain’t been chillin’ with us like that lately. I think she met some nigga and been fuckin’ with him.”
Kid looked saddened by the news. Jessica was his crush. The girl he wanted to marry. He always tried to amuse her and be kind to her with gifts, but most times she didn’t even acknowledge him.
The rest of the afternoon was spent joking around, drinking, and smoking blunts, along with dancing, more eating, dominoes, and spades. Eshon and Brandy were partners against Kip and Devon.
As evening fell, the party moved into the building lobby, where a group of men started a dice game near the stairway entrance. There was still music playing, and Eshon and Brandy continued to stick around.
The one man absent from the festivities was Papa John. He hadn’t been seen all day. Kip had called his cell phone a few times, but it went to his voicemail. Kip wasn’t worried about his dude. Papa John knew how to handle himself. Kip figured he was laid up with one of his baby mamas or some new chick he’d met, and was somewhere in the city putting his dick to good use.
Kip smoked his Black & Mild, loitering near the front entrance of the lobby. Though everything appeared fine on the outside, he felt some trepidation. His cut of the fifty grand was almost gone, and they hadn’t done a job or murder contract in several weeks. They needed to get back out there and make some real cash. But he wanted to wait until some of the heat died down around them.
Devon was feeling the effects too. While others were busy with gambling, the ladies or music in the lobby, he stepped to Kip and said, “Yo, let me holla at you for a sec, my nigga.”
The two men walked out of the lobby and into the street. Devon lit up a Newport. His skin looked ashy, and his clothes were dingy like always. He wore a faded dark hoodie on a beautiful warm day and old Timberland boots that had seen better days. He was sockless with smelly feet and sweaty armpits. And concealed in his waistband was a .9mm. Devon the Devil, as they called him, was ready to raise hell again.
“It’s been a minute, nigga. When we gonna get live again?”