Dirty Work: Part 2

Devon nodded. He was ready to go.

The next evening, they all met at Eshon’s place to talk. She’d been living there alone since her mother had moved to Brooklyn. There, they had the privacy to meet and talk. Devon wheeled Kid into the apartment.

Eshon was still mourning Kip’s murder, but she was getting a little better every day. She had a million regrets. She regretted each time she denied him pussy because she was angry with him. She regretted never getting pregnant because she wanted to be his wife first. She regretted not telling him she loved him more. Her days were filled with regrets.

Brandy was already present, seated on the couch pulling from a blunt, and Papa John arrived soon after. Everyone who mattered was inside Eshon’s place.

Eshon looked at Kid and asked, “How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay. I think about him every day,” he replied.

“I think about him every minute,” she said.

“A’ight, Y’all listen up,” Devon hollered. “I called this meeting today because I got a plan.”

“A plan? You? For what?” Brandy asked, looking at him skeptically.

Devon cut his eyes at Brandy. “You think I’m just some ignorant killer, huh, Brandy? You don’t know much about me. I’m smarter than you think, fuckin’ bitch.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” she countered.

“Bitch, you think I’m a fuckin’ joke!” Devon exclaimed.

“Hey, let’s just all be quiet, chill out, and listen to him,” The Kid said. “Now is not the time to be going against each other when there’s a real threat that wants us dead.”

Kid quickly calmed things down between Brandy and Devon. Now wasn’t the time for civil war. If they didn’t come together as one, then they were going to be defeated and die. Brandy took another pull from the blunt and then passed it to Eshon. After everything she’d been through, she needed to smoke regularly.

The Kid nodded toward Devon to continue. He did.

“Like I was sayin’ before I was rudely interrupted, I got a plan, and it’s a really good one,” said Devon.

The room was listening. Devon stood in the center of the room with his rough appearan

ce. His small Afro was nappy, his hands were ashy, and his clothes had seen better days, his beige Timberlands scuffed and untied. It was clear that he was carrying a pistol in his waistband, and his eyes were colder than the Antarctic. He was in charge, but how? Some people wondered.

Devon was the exact opposite of Kip. Kip had swag; Devon had none. Kip was smart and put-together, twenty-four/seven. Devon was a hothead and reminded people of Oscar the Grouch from Sesame Street, living out of a garbage can and dirty. He had a sixth-grade education but was respected on the streets because of his gunplay. He had no finesse. But this was the man who was supposed to keep the crew alive and outwit Maserati Meek, a criminal kingpin. Brandy, Eshon, and others in their growing crew did have some concern. Papa John was the only one who knew who was really calling the shots.

Devon stood in front of everyone and started to recite the monologue The Kid taught him to remember and say. It took them hours for Devon to get things right and know where The Kid was going with the idea. He started to talk, saying, “What I’m about to propose will involve some human sacrifices.”

Whoa, “propose” and “human sacrifices,” those were pretty big words for a hotheaded killer with a limited education, they thought.

Devon went on to say, “Maserati Meek will continue to be a threat to us until we’re dead to him. So let us make him believe that we’re dead. This coming event that Jessica has set up, we will die there.”

Brandy and Eshon thought he’d lost his mind. Where was he going with this speech and plan? The Kid remained silent. So far, Devon was doing a pretty decent job outlining the plan to everyone.

There was concern and grumbling, though.

“Hear me out. I been doin’ a lot of thinking,” Devon said.

He had everyone’s undivided attention. The Kid sat coolly, like it was the first time he heard of the plan. He couldn’t take control of the meeting. He had to remain seated and meek, and allow Devon to do what they’d rehearsed.

“We need decoys at this party,” he said.

“Decoys?” Eshon asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, someone to take our places there—people who look like us from a distance, but they ain’t us; ya feel me?”

It was still confusing.