A Hitman’s Gift For Christmas

Chapter 1

A Mother First & Foremost

“This little boy gon’ make me ring his goddamn neck when I see him, D. I swear.” I gripped my steering wheel tight and pressed my foot harder on the gas to give my truck a little more speed.

It was two in the morning on a Friday night, and here I was, practically flying down the highway to get to the Bronx.

The heat in my Range Rover was up, but it had nothing on my anger.

I was boiling inside. I had tossed my Moncler coat into the passenger seat an exit ago just to cool off.

I even felt my edges sweating under the silk scarf I had on to keep my freshly wrapped quick weave in place.

My cousin, Danae, had been trying her best to calm me down via FaceTime, but tonight, her attempts were futile.

Tonight, my son, Kaleb Jr., aka KJ, was about to see me in rare form.

Danae often tried to play KJ’s savior. He was her godson, and she didn’t play about him.

We both got on his ass when he went left, but she always drew a line at a certain point – a line that I sometimes had to remind her that I had no problem heel toeing on if I felt the need to.

KJ was getting ahead of himself, and it was beginning to be a bit much.

“Where you at now?” she asked.

Glancing up at the phone mounted on my dashboard, I could see her snuggled up under her covers. I’d been in the same position thirty minutes ago, watching reruns of Living Single, when I realized that my son was playing in my face once again.

“Just got off the exit,” I replied.

“Don’t do my boy too bad, Butterfly,” she reasoned, calling me by my nickname. “You gotta save your energy for the hoes at the nursing home in a couple hours. You know it takes you a full twenty-four to get your mind right once you’re pissed off.”

Shaking my head, I scoffed. “And so does he. Which is why I don’t wanna hear none of that shit tonight, D.

Every time I give KJ an inch, he fuck around and take Southern Boulevard.

And ever since we moved back up this way, he’s been showing his ass.

He asked to go chill with his cousins after school.

I said cool even though I hate him hanging out in the projects.

The stipulation was that he be home by 11 and stay out the way.

Here it is, two in the damn morning! I ain’t heard from him since four this afternoon.

He ain’t called, texted, sent a bat signal or nothing.

And when I call him, his phone is going straight to voicemail.

And you know my rule – that phone should never die. ”

“Yes. I know the rule. And I’ve always said that it was unrealistic. Phones die, boo.”

“He has a portable charger,” I countered.

“He’s a boy. You know how boys can be.”

“A boy with a 3.8 GPA. He ain’t the least bit slow. Slick, yes. But I’ma show his ass who the perm around this motherfucka,” I vowed.

I’d had plenty of conversations with KJ about keeping me in the loop when he was out, but it seemed like every time he got around his father’s side of the family, especially his uncle, he showed his ass.

The fact that he was a fifteen-year-old, young, Black man in America wasn’t at the forefront of his mind, but it plagued me every time he walked out my front door.

I’d been a single mom and divorcee for all of a year.

And while being divorced became easier day by day, KJ wasn’t making this single parenting shit easy at all.

The closer I got to the projects, the more the streetlights disappeared.

The average person would be scared to come through the Bronx at this time of night.

I wasn’t the least bit fazed. I was on ten and just didn’t give a fuck.

That and the fact that no matter how much I tried to distance myself from him, people knew who my ex-husband was.

I knew things would be different once Kaleb Sr. got locked up.

However, lately it had been feeling like KJ was testing my gangsta, and I didn’t like that shit at all.

Kaleb had always been the disciplinarian, and while I was no pushover, I never needed to step in because his word was more than enough.

Now, I had to show my son that I was indeed Derrick Anderson’s daughter – a problem.

“Well, if his phone is going to voicemail, it’s likely dead. I’m not saying don’t chastise him when you pull up. Just… take it easy. It’s really Koric’s ass that’s the problem.”

“Yeah, well, Koric ain’t my son. KJ is.”

“True, but you know KJ only gon’ go as far as his uncle lets him while he’s over that way.”

She wasn’t lying about that, and I had every intention on checking Koric too.

Although I knew he loved my son, his ass was a bad influence and always had some shit going on, quite the opposite of his brother – my ex-husband.

While Kaleb was quiet and sneaky with his shit, Koric was loud and always in the mix.

Kaleb was the mastermind behind a lot of their street dealings, hence the reason he was serving time on a RICO case.

It was always something with the Smith men.

“I’m pulling up to the building now. I’ll call you as soon as I make it back home.”

“Okay. You got your mini me with you?”

“Sure do,” I said, referring to the .380 I had tucked away in my Celine purse.

“Alright. Don’t forget.”

“I won’t. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Ending the call, I double parked in front of the building Koric was known to hang out in.

Pulling my coat on, I made sure my gun was within reach inside my bag before grabbing it and stepping out of the car.

As always, there was a cluster of people mobbing outside, in front of the building, and even more inside the lobby from what I could see, as I stepped onto the sidewalk.

It didn’t matter that it was freezing outside.

Smoke clouded the air as I approached the steps, and as expected, I was greeted with flirtatious catcalls that I ignored.

“Wassup, Ma?” One young boy that looked KJ’s age tried it.

“Who you here to see?” another one spoke, cutting his eyes at me and licking his lips.

“It’s too late for you to be out here by yaself, boo. Where your man at?” A guy around my age threw his hat in the ring. Still, that didn’t stop me from curving him, as I pushed forward.

The crowd parted, and I was face to face with Koric, standing amongst the young boys like he was that nigga – to them at least. He was easy to spot, brown skin with locs braided in his signature four plaits. He shared the same Smith jawline as his brother.

The last time I’d seen Koric in person was a little over a year ago, outside on the courthouse steps the day of Kaleb’s sentencing.

It was the day everything changed in my marriage.

Up until sentencing day, I’d been by Kaleb’s side.

With my head held high and chest out, I was ready to take on whatever time came our way.

It was easy to say “our” because it was the way we operated – as a unit. Partners… or so I thought.

I sat poised in the first row behind Kaleb in a cream-colored Gucci pantsuit, listening intently, as the state and our lawyer both gave their closing arguments.

On the phone this morning, he had forewarned that the odds didn’t seem to be in his favor.

And although the lawyers on our end had done their jobs, the DA and his team of lawyers and snitches had done theirs better.

He was ready to take whatever punishment that was handed down as the face of his operation.

“It’s what comes wit’ this shit,” he said.

I thought back to his promise of ensuring that KJ and I didn’t want for anything in his absence and how I’d told him to save his promise because he was coming home.

I believed that wholeheartedly. And even if I hadn’t, I’d already promised myself that I wouldn’t speak defeat into the atmosphere or to my husband.

Then, the judge cleared his throat and spoke. “Kaleb Smith, I hereby sentence you to fifteen years...”

Every other word he said sounded muffled after that, like someone had pushed my head underwater.

Then there was a wail that echoed from behind me, making everything clear again.

The cry had come from a woman, broken and desperate.

Turning just enough to see the face behind the theatrics, I noticed a woman of some Hispanic descent dressed in all black with a little girl in her lap.

Her hair was in a high ponytail, and each time she rocked, it swung from side to side.

The child didn’t seem to be affected at all by her outburst, as she lay on the woman’s chest. I slowly turned forward and watched as Kaleb’s eyes shifted in her direction.

His look was stern, a ‘cut that shit out’ stare that made her go silent, as he was cuffed.

Then, his eyes found mine and softened. I stared back, not blinking, appearing completely unmoved, although I was heated.

I knew exactly what that outburst signified. It wasn’t the cry of a mother who’d just lost her son to the system. It wasn’t the cry of a sister who’d just lost her only brother. In fact, the only family ties Kaleb had in the courtroom was me per his instruction.

Women didn’t cry like that for men they weren’t tied to. My chest tightened, the realization hitting me fast. I nodded once, slow and steady, to show him that I understood everything clearly.

“I love you, Butterfly,” he proclaimed, as he was escorted off to the back to start his new life.

I stood, smooth as ever, brushed my hand down my pants, and grabbed my purse.

I started up the aisle to the exit and caught a glimpse of the little girl’s face.

The curve of her cheeks, her sleepy pout, and bushy brows resembled KJ’s at that age.

Shaking my head, I kept it pushing. My eyes saw what they saw, and I knew what I knew.