Dirty Work: Part 1

Kip was floored. “What the fuck you talking ’bout, Nana? Why? You sick, they should be helping to take care of you.”

“Calm down, Kip.”

“Nah.” He jumped up, agitated and upset. “These muthafuckas shouldn’t be playing games wit’ your life like this, Nana.”

“They’re saying that there’s some discrepancy with my insurance company and”—Nana looked like she was about to break down in tears—“And I might have to pay out my own pockets. It’s an expensive treatment, Kip, but I don’t want you to worry about it.”

“What you mean, don’t worry about it? I’m fuckin’ worried, Nana. You need help. You need this treatment done. This chemo, if it’s gonna help, then we’re gonna get it for you.”

“I’m an old woman, Kip. I’m dying anyway, with or without it.”

“Nana, you need to stop talkin’ like that. You gonna be fine. I promise you that. I’m gonna get you the money,” he assured her.

“Kip, between treatment and medication, things can get really expensive. We’re talking about a minimum of five chemo treatments, costing no less than twenty grand.”

“Don’t worry ’bout the money. I’m gonna handle this for you, Nana. You just relax and let me deal wit’ the finances.” Kip was confident but worried at the same time.

Kip believed her health was failing, and he didn’t want to lose her. And if he had to kill a few niggas to pay for her chemo treatments, then there wouldn’t be an ounce of hesitation on his part.

Before his departure, he hugged his Nana tightly, and as he did so, a few tears trickled from his eyes. He quickly wiped them away, took a deep breath, and left distraught from the news. She meant the world to him, and he was ready to do what needed to be done. It was going to be his longest trip back home.

***

It had been a rough day for the brothers, and it became an even rougher day when the two argued over Nana’s cancer. Kip had come home and told Kid about Nana’s breast cancer, the chemo treatments, the payments, and her medication.

Kid felt that they should get a second opinion.

“Why would Nana lie about having cancer?”

“You can’t be so fuckin’ stupid and naïve, Kip!” Kid had screamed out. “She’s a lying and conniving fuckin’ bitch, Kip! Get a second opinion!”

“You always tryin’ to put Nana down, after everything she did for us. No!”

The two brothers got into an intense shouting match. Then Kip became so angry at his brother, he punched him in the face, pulled him out of his wheelchair, and tossed him to the floor. He then pushed his wheelchair across the room, way out of Kid’s reach.

Towering over his crippled little brother with anger, he screamed, “You stay there, muthafucka, until you come to your senses!” Kip stormed out of the apartment, leaving his brother sprawled out and glued to the floor.

Kid was shocked by the action. Nana was coming between them. He detested her more and more. He had to crawl to his chair. It took a long, embarrassing while. When he finally got settled back into his chair and propped up, the tears came streaming from his eyes. He couldn’t believe that his brother would do him like that—straight attack him like a stranger, and take Nana’s word over his.

Twenty-Seven

It was the morning of the drop, and the day reflected Kip’s mood—cloudy and bleak, and a bit chilly. Kip was in a very dark place. He didn’t know what the outcome would be this evening, but he said to himself, Fuck it. He called his crew. They needed to meet and talk before they did the drop in Brooklyn.

Two hours later, Devon and Papa John were on the building’s rooftop having a critical meeting with Kip, smoking his usual Black as he stood on the roof with a cold, scheming gaze.

“What’s up? Why we here on the roof in this wind?” Devon asked.

Kip looked at both his friends, two men he considered his brothers. They had been through thick and thin, and they were still standing when the worst of the worst had tried to put them down.

Kip took one final drag from the Black and flicked it off the building. He then said coldly, “We gonna rob these niggas. Y’all good wit’ that?”

Devon smiled like it was Christmas Day. “Fuck, yeah, I’m good wit’ that shit, nigga! It’s about time you came to the realization.” Devon slapped him a hard five.

Kip looked at Papa John. “And what about you?”

Papa John looked his friend in the eyes. “We like the Three Musketeers, right? One for all, and all for one.”

“One for all and one for what?” Devon replied with a puzzled look. “Yo, fuck them corny niggas! Nigga, we like those niggas in that movie Goodfellas, feel me? Now those niggas got shit poppin’!”