1
Kid Kane—AKA The Kid—sat in his wheelchair in silence and looked at himself in the long mirror. He had a lot on his mind. He missed his brother, their conversations, and the bond they had shared. He missed the way things used to be—he missed playing chess in St. Nicholas Park. Kid couldn’t help but to feel he had failed his brother. He had the cover of anonymity; he should have squeezed off a couple bullets into Meek’s cranium. If only he could go back in time and make things right. But he couldn’t. Now he had to deal with living without his brother for the rest of his life.
The Kid was angry and bitter. He thirsted for revenge. All he could think about was killing Maserati Meek and continuing to use Jessica for two betrayals: breaking his heart and sleeping with the enemy. Now, he was the main pieces on the chessboard—the king and queen. Every move mattered. He had to look five moves ahead of his foes. He had to be careful. He had to remain calm and keep up his deception. To everyone besides Papa John, Devon, and Jessica, he was harmless—a smart, lanky nerd in a wheelchair.
Devon was the decoy, looking like he was now in charge of Kip’s operation, but The Kid was the brains. If an order needed to be implemented, he would relay it to Devon, who would then transmit it to the crew. Their crew was building in numbers now that they were moving kilos of cocaine and heroin. They were making a serious name for themselves in the streets—leveling up from their stickup-kid reputations. Their crew had taken on Maserati Meek, and it garnered a lot of respect through Harlem for Papa John and Devon.
Kid Kane had a vision, one that his brother had not seen. The Kid wanted to build something massive. He wanted to honor his brother’s death with success in everything from drugs and gambling to legit businesses. But first he wanted to kill Maserati Meek and avenge Kip’s murder. Once Meek was dead, then Kid could focus on building an empire.
The Kid sat there alone, still thinking. Alone was how he could fully see things clearly. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the reunion Jessica was planning was a setup. The thought ate away at him. Why would she go through the trouble of bringing everyone together after all that had happened? Jessica wasn’t that kind of person—forgiving or nice. She was selfish and greedy. She was superficial, and from his own eyes, The Kid saw that she was in love with Maserati Meek—or in love with his money and power, anyway.
Had Eshon not been so devastated by Kip’s murder and yearning to have a memorial for him, then she never would have allowed Jessica back into the fold after the way Jessica had violated her and Brandy for some foreign nigga. Jessica was a sneaky and heartless bitch. She learned from the best—Kip. She knew how to trap niggas and outsmart women.
Kid called Jessica.
“Yo, I ain’t gonna be able to make the memorial.”
“What?” she asked, her voice elevated. “You have to come.”
“All I gotta do is survive on these streets. All else are nonfactors.”
“Homes, what that shit got to do with what I’m puttin’ together? You sound crazy right now.”
“I am a lot of things, but crazy will never be one. Disrespect me like that again, and I will put you in a deep sleep.”
Jessica could hear the seriousness in his already deep voice, which had dropped a few octaves. She felt Kid was a couple grams short of an ounce. There was something loco about a grown man who pretended to be crippled to murder muthafuckas. She thought about all the times they pushed his big ass around, all the times he pulled his seemingly dead legs in and out of that wheelchair, and all the times he appeared to be innocent when he, too, was in fact a killer. She didn’t want to aggravate him.
“My bad . . . listen, poppi, I really want you to be there. And to keep it one hundred, I am doing this as much for you as Eshon and Kip. I know how much you loved your brother, and I just want to celebrate that. You know how vain your brother was—shit, he’s expecting this,” she said and chuckled.
“I’m focused on Meek right now, Jessica. I don’t want to be sidetracked.”
“And you won’t, baby. I give you my word. This memorial is what we all need and I’ll be right there by your side. Besides, you ain’t got to worry about Meek. Us together will beat him. You’re smarter than that puta.”
Kid thought, Did she just call me baby? Jessica was going hard. And he knew it.
The Kid let her squirm for a moment and then he conceded. “A’ight, I’ll be there. But only because you asked me to. When you’re throwing your arms around that sand nigga just remember this. Remember that you had and will always have my heart. I’m doing this for you, and for my brother.”
“If you show up then maybe we’ll slide off together.”
“You and me?” Kid sounded as if his interest was piqued. “Stop playing.”
Jessica gave a flirty laugh and said in a sultry voice, “I’m dead serious.”
“We’ll see.” He hung up.
Her kindness toward Kid and the others was suspect in his eyes. And something else worried The Kid. Up until now, he had felt that he had the upper hand on Maserati Meek because Meek didn’t know about him. What if Jessica had given him up? It was a strong possibility. Jessica was a duplicitous bitch, and Kid would see her dead soon.
He had a plan. He wheeled himself away from the mirror and dialed Devon and Papa John and told them he needed to meet with them. He and his peoples were still going to the mattresses—going to war with their rivals and living in isolation and security.
It was a beautiful summer day with clear skies and warm weather. A much-needed cool breeze came blowing in through the open window. The Kid sighed. Though he was alone, he continued to remain in his chair. He found some comfort in it. It was an attachment to him, and it was the memory he had of Kip before his murder. If only Kip knew he could walk again. What would have been his older brother’s reaction? Would it be shock, anger—bewilderment? It was a question had that always plagued Kid’s mind. Now he would never know. Kip had always felt responsible for the accident that had crippled Kid, and he had done everything in his power to help get Kid’s life back to normal.
An hour later, Devon and Papa John arrived. The men sat and waited to hear what The Kid had to tell them.
“What’s good? Why we here?” Devon asked.
The Kid looked at them and said, “This thing with Jessica, this event, I strongly feel that it’s a setup.”
Devon frowned. Then he barked, “I don?
??t see why we ain’t kill that bitch in the first place. Why is she living, nigga? After everything this bitch did, she should be dead. I’m ready to put a bullet in that bitch’s head right now.”
Papa John agreed.
The Kid looked at the two men coolly. “I still need her alive, Devon,” he explained. “She’s more useful to us alive than dead at the moment. Meek is a formidable foe, and the more intel we have on him, the better. She is needed.”
Devon still griped, but he halfheartedly understood.
“A’ight, we wait.”
Kid wasn’t completely honest with them. He was leaving out the fact that he was still obsessed with her and he couldn’t end her life at the time. Maybe she was still on their team. Keeping her alive was a huge risk, but he needed to know for certain. How would he know if she had been compromised? Jessica wasn’t always easy to read.
Devon and Papa John were furious with Jessica. They had treated her like a sister, and she had violated them. If Kid’s suspicions of her were true, then Devon had a special way he wanted to kill her. He would do it slowly and cruelly. She would feel his wrath for hours until she was begging to die.
“Patience, Devon, patience, and we shall have our way,” The Kid proclaimed like he was some fifth-century prophet.