The Last Kings (7 page)

The feds had moved in and out of his block, even sent a couple of undercover cops to scope Ray's small operation. But when their bodies were found dismembered, that never happened again. Ray didn't move any product on his block, so any warrant to search it was deemed pointless. Out of all of the people Coopa put on, Ray's operation was the cleanest. Ray had a list of clients he served, and they bought in bulk, not by the hit. They always knew where one of Ray's workers would be posted on the block to place their order. A place and time would then be designated for a drop-off and pickup. First, of course, the money would have to be wired into an account that was opened and closed that same day. Ray had work moving all through Detroit, and he not only fed his block, but everyone else's too. He kept the block cleansed of Coopa's work. It was smart, but the real reason was out of respect for Grandma Rae.

People all around the way showed him love as he passed them. The daylight was completely gone, only to be replaced by streetlights. Ray saw the streets come alive. It was rare to see him walking anywhere, so many of the neighborhood rats tried to get his attention by swishing quickly in front of him or saying “Hi,” flirtatiously. Ray only gave head nods and kept it moving while he tried to gather his thoughts.

As he walked and ignored the basic hoes cooing his name, he came across two of the most thorough youngins he had pushing for him. D and Amann were posted on a street corner engaged in a conversation with two young women. They were bad, and both had round bottoms, but when Ray was spotted, the two women were immediately dismissed. D and Amann were both in 501 Levis and retro Js. Their jewelry glistened with diamonds like the hood celebrities they were, and they both gave Ray a respectful smile.

“My mans!” D shook Ray's hand. “The fuck you doin' out here walkin', fam? We got Beamers and shit for all'at!”

Ray grinned because he was right. Bosses didn't walk, but in that instant, he needed the air to clear his mind, and a walk was what he needed.

“I'm chillin', fam,” was Ray's simple response.

D and Amann were brothers. Not by blood, but it couldn't make them any closer. Through thick and thin, they had each other's back, and their loyalty in each other was what embedded Ray's trust in them. Out of every nigga Ray had working, the two of them put in the most work and brought home the most paper. They could hustle in their sleep, but the way they moved they never slept. At the age of twenty-two, they were also well tenured.

“What's been good, though?” Ray asked stopping to talk for a minute.

“Shit, shit,” Amann answered. “Working.”

“Yea, niggas been putting in overtime it seems, like just to fuckin' eat,” D rubbed his hands together. “Upping prices.”

“I see,” Ray nodded, already knowing.

He knew all that was going on, especially after Coopa's trap was almost robbed. Coopa was messing up, and Ray had to pick up his slack. Unsatisfied clients made for angry workers, and that was bad for business. Everybody was just trying to eat, and that was something Ray understood. Coopa wasn't as in tune with the streets as he once was when he was living in them. He was selfish, and as long as his table was filled, he didn't care about anybody else's. Ray respected him because it was his work that had indeed put him on, but he also knew that once a person lost touch with the streets, there was no coming back from that.

“Aye, let me rap to you two about some shit real quick,” Ray said making a decision then to put them on with his operations. D and Amann knew automatically by his tone that they needed to listen to what was about to be said. “You two niggas put in work. Loyalty is something that's hard to come by in this day and age. When you got it, you don't just throw it away. So I'd like to personally welcome you to The Last Kings. It's time to go to work.”

Words couldn't express my happiness when Ray called Mocha and I to meet him at his house to discuss a business opportunity. His beautiful five-bedroom home was ducked off in the suburbs of Detroit. He sat us down in his living room as soon as Tyler joined us. He then asked me how serious I was about taking my first steps into the game. He told us that he'd just come across a major move that he couldn't pass. Tyler was already down with the plan, and I was too. Mocha was the one who sat unsure. It made me a little agitated just because the idea of a drug cartel was her idea. The fact that she was trying to back out didn't sit right with me. What he was asking was dangerous I knew, but that was life. I knew how to hustle, how to break it down, and how to make my money quadruple. My life had been pledged to the game at an early age, and I was ready to carry out my destiny.

“You can't make people respect you,” Ray told Mocha, and he pulled out two black boxes from underneath his long coffee table. “That's why you make them fear you. As long as you make your money and watch your back, it doesn't matter what anyone thinks of you.”

He slid the boxes across the wooden table toward Mocha and me. Lifting the top of mine, my breath was short and sweet when I saw the inhabitants. Inside the box was a shiny .48-caliber pistol and two rounds sat next to it. I hesitated, but I picked it up and held it firmly in my hand. It felt natural.

“R-Ray, I don't know,” Mocha said, staring at her handgun. “This is crazy.”

“Yea, Ray,” I had to agree with her. “You ready to go to war with Coopa?”

Ray nodded his head.

“The difference between Coopa and me is that I'm not going to have you two on any corner making drops. That's sloppy and out of date. This is going to be a business; I don't have time to be hot in these streets with the feds on my ass.”

“What happened to loyalty, Ray?” Mocha asked him.

“Fuck that, Mocha,” Tyler countered. “I've been tellin' my boy to strike out on his own for years now. Coopa don't know the first thing about being loyal, shorty.”

“Right,” I agreed with Tyler, eyeing my pistol. “Ray, if you got us, you know I'm down to ride for whatever.”

“Say, I knew you would be down to ride,” Ray smiled at me fondly. “What do you say, Mocha? How about we make this a family affair?”

“You say that shit like you're asking me to join a club or something! This is serious; we're talking about a drug cartel! As in a drug ring . . . as in some C. N. Phelps shit!”

“Phillips,” I corrected.

“Yes, her! This is crazy, Say . . . crazy!” Mocha stared at her pistol.

“Mocha, what do you want to be in life?” I asked catching her off guard by the question.

“What? I don't know . . . Somebody who makes a lot of money. I don't know!”

“A boss?” Ray referenced.

“A boss,” I concurred.

Mocha sighed and eyed all three of us before she finally nodded her head submissively.

“Yes, a boss.”

“OK,” I grabbed her hand. “Let's get this shit then; for the love of money, right?”

Our eyes met for a moment, seeming to connect us, making us one. Holding silent conversations was something Sadie and I did when we were younger, when she first came to stay with us. The words I spoke to her with my eyes were sincere. I was telling her that everything would be OK. Finally, Mocha blinked, breaking eye contact, and I knew she was in.

“OK, I don't even give a fuck!” She rolled her eyes. “I'm just worried about getting trigger-happy with this muhfucka!” Mocha aimed her pistol at Ray's white living-room wall and mouthed
“Pow.”

I laughed, happy that she finally was down with the program.

“Coo,” Ray nodded his approval, eyeing everyone in the room. “We're a team now, so the only thing left to do is to make shit happen.”

We did just that. Ray and Tyler already knew the rules of the game, and I was a little tenured in it as well. Ray took us under his wing, and in a matter of weeks, Mocha and I knew everything about the dope game a man could teach us.

“Everything else just comes with the territory,” Ray told us.

Ray must have had some more change saved up from when he was working with Coopa because he went all out and bought a slew of Laundromats, an apartment complex, an Italian restaurant called Amore, a hair salon named Taste, and a strip club called Lace. Within months, Ray's work started spreading quickly like the flu bug through Detroit. No one knew who the carrier was, but everyone seemed to be feeling it. The team Ray set us up with was the truth. Besides the four of us, there were four other additions to our fam. They were obedient and ready to ride out whenever or wherever. When it came to distributing and collecting, they always delivered.

I'd become fond of the little Latina chick named Adrianna. She was a feisty little thing. She always pulled in double her weight and being in the big leagues didn't scare her. She was older than me by a few years, but she knew that I was the boss. She always made sure the money was counted right before it was delivered to Ray or me.

It was my idea to start a VIP club for our top wholesale clients. They were the only ones eligible to be members after a thorough background check. Ray thought the idea was brilliant and decided to add a kick to it. The buyers could test our product while getting pleasured. The spot was underground, literally, located in the basement of the Italian restaurant Ray had purchased, and if you didn't know it was there already, then you would never know.

Tyler came through with his connect with the feds. He broke him off a little paper here and there to be kept informed on the moves of the police. That way, we would always have some type of heads-up. After that, it was a wrap. It was clear that we were slowly but surely taking the city over, and it was a beautiful thing. Ray had stopped all involvement with Coopa completely, and I knew that wasn't going to end well, but I trusted his judgment. Coopa wasn't the only one anymore with a team of riders. If anything popped off, there would definitely be a war scene in the streets of Detroit. Ray made sure that Mocha and I were never alone wherever we went and told us to always stay strapped.

“Niggas hate seeing a come up,” he kept saying, and I knew he was referring to Coopa.

After Mocha and I dropped out of school, we began living with Ray in his home since it was big enough. Five rooms, four bedrooms, two kitchens, a theatre in the basement, and Ray even had the audacity to have a fountain in his entryway. Those were just some of the highlights. Ray had really outdone himself with his house, and I was proud that he'd come that far. One night when just he and I were home, I brought it to his attention while we counted stacks of money to maybe let Coopa in on the action, keep the love in the city. I didn't see the point in going to war in your own hometown. The money would be doubled and be kept flowing. It made sense to me. However, Ray disagreed.

“Nah, Say. Coopa isn't the type to just shake hands and step down from the throne. Detroit is his in his eyes. Unless somebody knocks him down from his seat, he ain't going nowhere,” he said putting me on game.

“So, what are we going to do when he jumps?” I asked him. “'Cause you know that nigga is going to jump.”

“You know what's going to happen, Say.” Ray touched the steel he kept on his waist. “That nigga is either going to bow down or lay down. My city ain't going down just because a boss can't stay a boss. Fuck that. It's all about this here.”

He grabbed a stack of hundreds and waved them in the air.

“A nigga will do crazy things for this, Sadie. Just remember not to be that crazy,” Ray told me and sighed. “Coopa is going to try to stop this. I'm on the rise, and his position as kingpin is being threatened. But I know him; he's not going to come for me directly. I know his style. He's going to come for what I hold dearest to my heart. You and Grandma Rae.”

What Ray was telling me made sense. I then understood the reason why he made Mocha and me stroll the city with five soldiers each.

“I got niggas at her house around the clock,” Ray informed me, seeing the worry on my face.

“She's OK with that?” I asked, astounded knowing Grandma Rae hated random muhfuckas in her home.

Ray grinned at me through the freshly twisted dreadlocks dangling freely in front of his face.

“Hell nah, Say. You know she would flip if she knew them niggas were there!”

I grinned too, but then became serious again.

“Ray, I just want you to know I can handle myself,” I told my cousin. It was rare when I got him to myself, and I wanted to reassure him that letting me into his cartel wasn't a bad idea. “This is nothing to me. I'm not scared of a fuckin' Coopa or any nigga who might come for me. If you got me, I got you, remember?”

Ray smiled and nodded his head.

“I feel you, Say, and I know you can handle yourself. I'ma just make it so you never have to.” He stood up and started dumping the money in bags, preparing to make a drop to re-up. “Where's Mocha?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “She made a trip to visit a friend in Atlanta. She'll be back in a few days,” I told him, not letting it show on my face that I missed my best friend.

I knew Mocha was from Atlanta, so I didn't mind her taking a few trips to her hometown. It was rare when we weren't together, especially since we both dropped out of school to tend to business. I knew I wasn't going to be anybody's executive but the dope man's, so I didn't want to waste any more of my time. Ray was upset with the decision, but we stood firm by it.

“You been coo?” Ray studied me where he stood.

“Yea, I've just been kicking it hard with Adrianna. That's my bitch. She's a fucking thug, dude,” I said, thinking fondly of my new friend.

“Yea, she's ride or die. I had to have her in on this shit. Loyalty is all I need. When Mocha gets back, we're havin' a meeting. There's some other shit I need to bring to the table. It's been a few months now, and the money is rolling in. I need to know where all y'all muhfuckas' heads are at, you feel me?”

“All right, I'ma hit that bitch up and tell her to get her ass home ASAP,” I told him and pulled out my cell phone.