Animal 2 (3 page)

“You know your word is as good as gold, Ma. Thanks for meeting with me, and take care.” Shai gave her a hug.

“All right, now, and give my regards to Tommy Gunz.” Ma waved and left the diner.

Priest waited until he had watched Ma and Bug get into their SUV and pull off before speaking. “If you're meeting with the Savage family, it could only mean somebody is about to die.
If you're meeting with
Ma
Savage, it must be somebody important. Is everything OK, Shai?”

“Yeah, everything is good, Priest. Sit down.” Shai motioned toward the seat Ma had just vacated. Once Priest was seated, Shai sat back down. He leaned in to whisper so that only Priest could hear what he was about to say. “I needed to make someone vanish, but it had to be done by someone who has no affiliation with me or this family. So I outsourced.”

Priest felt slighted by the fact that Shai hadn't come to him to take the contract, but he didn't show it. “Where's your shadow?”

“Swann? In the streets with it, like he always is. A few of our people got hit up on some bullshit. I swear these lil' niggaz are forgetting their places.”

“Any idea who did the deed?” Priest asked.

“From the viciousness of the hit, I'd say it was Animal, but we all know he's dead, right?” Shai watched Priest's face for a reaction.

“Dead and stinking,” Priest lied with a straight face.

Shai nodded in approval. “Word on the streets is that it was one of King James's people. You know he's got all these little niggaz thinking they're superheroes.”

“Speaking of King James, when are you finally gonna put that rabid dog to sleep?” Priest asked, happy to change the subject.

“That nigga on borrowed time. When I take him out, I wanna do it in grand style for the whole hood to see. They gonna respect the Clark name,” Shai declared.

“Shai, let me tell you a story. Years ago, there was another little nigga with a chip on his shoulder named K-Dawg. Like
King James, he had big ideas, too. Everybody ignored K-Dawg, because his crew was too small to pose a legitimate threat, but they realized their errors when K-Dawg and his crew staged a mutiny and whacked out several of the old bosses. They damn near took over this whole city, because they were underestimated. If you want my advice, I'd say let me put King James to sleep for you immediately.”

“I hear you, Priest, but I didn't call you out here for your advice. I need your services,” Shai told him. “A friend of ours has called in a favor.”

Priest didn't need Shai to speak the name to know whom he meant. A friend of
ours
meant Mr. Gee, a.k.a. Gee-Gee, acting boss of the Cissero crime family. He had been a business associate of Poppa Clark's, and when the mantle was passed to Shai, he kept the lines of business open, albeit grudgingly. “And what is it that our little balding friend wants?”

Shai gave a look around as if he expected someone to be eavesdropping. “There's this smuggler, they call him the Little Guy. He's connected to just about every crime faction in the United States and a few outside the country. His connections with the unions make him the man you see if you want something moved from point A to point B with no questions asked. From drugs to immigrant whores, he can move it. The Little Guy was the darling of all the crime families until the dumb fuck got himself pinched in some slum-ass motel room for kicking the shit out of a junkie whore and in possession of enough blow to cater a small party. It ain't looking good for him, and our friends are concerned about what the Little Guy might be willing to do for his freedom.”

“How much does he know?” Priest asked.

“He knows enough to topple the whole house of cards. The Little Guy has shaken some very important hands.”

Priest clasped his hands in front of him on the table and thumbed his gold rosary while he weighed the situation. “Can you remind me again why we give a fuck about some snitch turning state's on the Italians? The last time I checked, none of those pasta-eating bastards were Clarks.”

“Italians aren't the only ones the Little Guy has dirt on,” Shai said.

Priest didn't need to ask who else the Little Guy had dirt on. The look on Shai's face said it all. “What happened to cleaning up the Clark backyard and not creating new legal troubles?”

“I didn't create this problem, Priest. I inherited it. The Little Guy's arrangement with the Clarks goes back to before I was born, so I kept doing business with him when I took over,” Shai explained.

“You don't have to say any more. I'll take care of it, Shai. Dead men tell no tales.” Priest said. He stood to leave, but Shai had some parting instructions.

“A man who would betray his friends is the lowest form of human being. His death should reflect that. I don't just want his life, Priest. I want that rat fuck's cheese-stained tongue!”

A
BOVE THE CHURCH WAS A
small kitchenette apartment. It was sparsely furnished, with only a sofa bed, a radio, and a wooden table with a laptop resting on it. The paint was peeling, and the carpet smelled slightly like mold. It was a far cry from their house in Houston, but Animal and Gucci would have to make do, seeing as how it would be their new home until Priest said otherwise.

Animal had finally calmed down enough for Kahllah to free him and reset his arm. Popping it back into place hurt more than when Priest had dislocated it. Kahllah had expected Animal to try to escape, but he didn't. He was still angry, but he stewed in silence. When Kahllah looked into his eyes, he seemed drained. Not so much physically tired, but his soul seemed drained. He moved as if he was in a daze, while she handed him some fresh clothes and directed him to the bathroom where he could clean himself up a bit.

While Animal showered, Gucci and Kahllah sized each other up from opposite sides of the room. Gucci wasn't sure how to
feel about Kahllah. When Priest had first brought them there, it was Kahllah who tended her wounds and tried to comfort her while they waited for Animal to regain consciousness. It was almost like they were girlfriends, but her demeanor changed whenever Priest was around. She became withdrawn and cold, more like a solider. She didn't understand what kind of strange hold Priest had on the girl or how she played into everything.

“For as long as I've known Animal, he never mentioned having a sister,” Gucci said, breaking the silence.

“Because he didn't know about me,” Kahllah replied.

“But you knew about him?” Gucci asked.

Kahllah weighed it before responding. “Not at first. I only learned of Animal when he made the news a few years back for killing all those people. Since then, Priest and I have been watching him from a distance, measuring him to see if he was worthy.”

“Worthy of what?” Gucci asked.

“That's none of your concern,” Kahllah said.

“If you've been watching him all these years, I'm sure you know what he's been through. Why not come to him sooner?” Gucci asked.

“For the same reason a man sees a woman being abused by her husband on the street but keeps walking. It wasn't my business,” Kahllah explained.

Gucci's facial expression betrayed the disgust in her heart at Kahllah's statement. “Not your business? That's your brother!”

“Tayshawn and I are siblings in name only,” Kahllah said.

Gucci was confused. “But I heard Priest refer to you as his daughter, so I thought––”

“No, he's Animal's biological father, not mine. My parents
were killed when I was very young, and Priest adopted me, so to speak. He's responsible for the woman I am today.”

Gucci shook her head. “This is some country we live in, where decent folks can't adopt kids, but they give little girls to killers.”

Kahllah laughed. “Don't be so quick to pat your government on the back and condemn my father until you know the whole story. I was born just outside East Kalimantan, Indonesia, to a dirt-poor family. My mother was a native, my father a black man from the States. I never got to know either of them very well. Cancer took my mom when I was six, and a burglar took my dad when I was nine. For the next few years, I wandered the countryside, stealing when I could and starving when I couldn't. I thought starvation was the worst pain imaginable, until I found myself passed through a network of slave traders. Do you know what slave traders do to pretty young virgins? Sometimes they would go one at a time, and other times they would have their way with me in groups. They call it conditioning, but rape by any other name is still rape. They broke me, body and soul.”

“I'm sorry,” Gucci said sincerely.

“Don't be sorry for me, Gucci. Be sorry for the little girls who weren't fortunate enough to make it out. I offer up a prayer for them every morning.”

“So Priest bought you?” Gucci asked.

“No, he
took
me. I had been purchased by a man and taken to Africa, where he kept me as a servant and sometimes a bedmate. To this day, I shudder when I think of the things he did to me. Fortunately for me, the man who owned me had offended a very powerful man. For his offense, the man sent Priest to claim my owner's life. Priest killed my owner's family and everyone
else who was in the house at the time, but he spared me. To this day, I don't know why, and I don't care. All I know is that he took me out of that hell and gave me a home, an education, and a purpose. He was my salvation.”

Gucci shook her head. “I never would've thought a man like Priest was capable of compassion.”

“Some might say the same thing about Animal,” Kahllah countered. “They are both murderers, are they not? Yet we love them unconditionally, because, unlike those who fear them, we know that death is not the sum total of who they are. They are lovers, fathers, sons, and protectors.”

“I can't argue with you there, because Animal has risked everything to keep me safe,” Gucci admitted.

“Yes, he has. Now, my question for you is, what are you prepared to do to keep him safe?” Kahllah asked.

“Anything,” Gucci said confidently. Animal was her heart.

“It's easy to say it when it's just the two of us having girl talk, but what happens when you have to prove it? What do you do when his enemies are scratching at the door, and the only choices are to kill or be killed?”

“I do whatever it takes,” Gucci said.

Kahllah regarded her for a few moments. She stood up and removed the gun from the holster clasped to the back of her pants and cocked the slide. Gucci watched nervously as Kahllah handed her the gun.

“What's this all about?” Gucci asked.

“Shoot me,” Kahllah told her, shoving the gun into her hands.

“Kahllah, I ain't playing this sick little game with you,” Gucci said.

“It ain't no game, Gucci. Shoot me,” Kahllah repeated.

“Look, I'm not––”

“Gucci.” Kahllah drew a blade from her bra and popped it open. “One of two things is going to happen. You're going to shoot me, or I'm going to cut your fucking throat.”

Gucci studied Kahllah's face to see if she was serious. She was. When Gucci took too long to make up her mind, Kahllah moved in on her with the blade. Gucci raised the gun, finger hesitating on the trigger. She didn't want to kill Kahllah, but she didn't want to die, either. When it was clear to her that Kahllah intended on making good with her threat, Gucci pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.

Kahllah slapped Gucci's hand, sending the gun flying in the air. She fluidly moved behind Gucci and threw her into a choke hold, catching the gun with her free hand. She flicked the lever on the side of the pistol and dug the barrel into Gucci's cheek. “If I was one of Shai Clark's shooters, you'd be dead, all because you didn't know to take the safety off first,” she whispered in Gucci's ear.

Gucci shoved Kahllah off her and spun in anger. “What the hell is your problem?”

“My problem is that you don't understand the seriousness of your situation. I don't know if you've been paying attention or not, but Animal isn't going to let this thing with Shai go, and that's your fault!”

“Animal is pressing the issue because he doesn't want to leave his friends in harm's way. You can't put this on me!”

“The hell I can't. My sucker-for-love-ass little brother came out of hiding because of
you
.” She jabbed her finger at Gucci's chest. “He went at Shai Clark because of what happened to
you
.”
She jabbed her again. “And he's likely going to die because he loves
you
.” Her voice was heavy with emotion. Although they had only met twice, she had been watching Animal for years and felt an attachment to him.

“You act like I asked for this to happen!” Gucci shouted. Kahllah's words cut her because of the truth in them. “I know I'm the cause of all this, but it's out of my hands. What am I supposed to do, Kahllah?”

Kahllah turned the gun, butt first, and shoved it into Gucci's chest, forcing her to take it. “When my brother's enemies come for him, be more than just a pretty fucking face.”

“What's going on?” Animal's voice startled both of the girls. Neither of them had heard him come out of the bathroom. He was shirtless, wearing a pair of black fatigue pants and construction Timberlands, which were untied. The clothes were courtesy of Priest. He didn't know his son, but he sure knew his style. Animal's mop of curly hair was wet and hung down around his bare shoulders in tangled strands.

Kahllah's eyes lingered on his chest a second longer than she intended, before answering, “Just having some girl talk.”

“With a pistol?” Animal asked, looking back and forth between them suspiciously.

“Don't worry, I'm not gonna hurt your little girlfriend, unless her hand calls for it,” Kahllah told Animal.

“She's a bit more than a girlfriend, and you'd do well to keep that in mind.” Animal turned his attention to Gucci. “You good, ma?”