20. Turk
Turk
Ten Years Ago…
I’m not one of them niggas that’s never been out they hood. This new gig with my G-Pops got me and the homies jet setting all over the world, killing muthafuckas that’s a threat to national security and shit.
We’ve done two hits so far, me, Nut, and Set. One in South America, and one in Germany. Shit laced our bank accounts so nice, we prolly finna stop running with Tiny and Bishop, and leave that to our other homies.
Thank God. I’m not made to be no corner boy. Besides, my classes start up in the new year.
We pouring a lot of our money into building up this old teen club we purchased a couple months back. Part of Nut’s drills for Foe Dub is making these niggas be construction workers, but shit, it’s free labor, and these niggas learning a skill.
We can go over the shit later as more money comes in, but right now we need something else.
Even if we don’t step off from moving weight soon, Tiny and Bishop keep wanting to put Shad into more and more shit, and we not having it.
They got this nigga doing drive bys and shit.
Set told me last week he almost got caught at school with his whole stash.
To be a boy genius, the nigga sure is dumb as hell.
It’s cool, though. I been asking him about his coding shit, and he lights up every time he teaches me some shit. With my new venture, I know Ima need his help more, so I can keep him out of trouble at least until we go legit and he can focus on them AP classes and his music shit.
It’s a lot riding on this meeting. A lot of people I care about depend on me, whether they know it or not.
So I put on a Louis Vuitton polo shirt, some black slacks and my funeral shoes.
I’m thinking about growing locs, but right now, trying to look like I know what I’m talking about, I lined my dreaded fro.
Shit, besides my sleeve, I look like a professional nigga. And hopefully these East Kenton niggas don’t know what blue roses mean.
I mean, Foe Dub causes mischief and mayhem in South Kenton, but we stay on our side. Just like they stay on theirs.
Only thing I know about East Kenton is that it operates like its own city. The First Nations have been there since before Kenton even became a town, and besides their reservation, they ran that city with the Italians.
Still don’t know how that works.
But I’m Black, so if I wanna do anything in East Kenton, you gotta go through them, which means hitting up Apache Beverly.
Autumn, the love of my life, hates herself.
But not more than her bitch ass mama hates her.
She told my baby on her seventeenth birthday that when she turned eighteen she had to scram. Mind you, Autumn is a fraternal twin, but they ain’t tell Wynter that.
No, because Wynter is a carbon copy of their dead firstborn daughter, they treat her like she’s made of glass and pay my baby dust.
She got a little after-school job and had been saving up but then we fell off.
She pushed me away, and I let her make it because I got busy trying to stack enough money to get her into some nice shit.
Paid up for a year, type. Plus I know Fredo and Rico still on her like white on rice.
The type of shit we went through, those bonds become unbreakable.
Unfortunately for me, these muthafuckas felt like their loyalty to her trumped their loyalty to me.
It’s cool, though. Niggas got they ass beat, and baby girl gone learn that nothing gets past Turk.
The fine ass receptionist hangs up her phone. “Mr. Beverly will see you now.”
I stand and lick my lips. Her cheeks turn the prettiest red as I wink at her and breeze through into the office.
It’s all mahogany wood furnishings and money green carpet, with a window overlooking East Kenton and Tomahawk Casino. The nigga at the desk looks tall as hell even though he’s sitting, and got the look of a shrewd businessman.
I walk over and scratch out my hand. “Royce Atkins, nice to meet you, sir.”
Apache gives me a firm handshake and gestures for me to sit. “What can I do for you, Mr. Atkins?”
“It’s really, what can I do for you?”
“Oh?” Apache leans back, giving me the floor.
“There’s a dilapidated gentlemen's club under the expressway in your territory, and records show it’s owned by the same company that owns and operates your casino. After researching comps, I’m willing to take it off your hands for a hundred thou more than it’s worth.”
Apache steeples his hands together as he takes me in. He can’t be older than forty-five, but got his whole section on lock. Nothing moves without his say-so, and really, it’s been like that for a long ass time. At least before I was born. That means the nigga been that nigga since he was my age.
Foe Dub is making a name for ourselves, sure, but to have that type of power… man.
“I took this meeting out of pure curiosity. None of my buildings are for sale, and even if they were, you’re not affiliated or even from East Kenton. Why should I even consider your offer?”
I smirk. “That’s why I’m offering way above its commercial value. The club’s falling apart, on the inside and the outside. Compared to your other business, I know it’s not a priority for you. I’m just a young man trying to build his business portfolio, and I see the potential in Paradise.”
Apache hums and his gaze turns sharp. “Royce Atkins. Eighteen. Mother Bea Atkins was a pillar in the South Kenton community until MS took her out. Father is unknown, since Bea’s partner was killed by the police three years prior.
Three older half-sisters who seem to always find themselves in East Kenton, but that’s not the kicker.
You claim you’re just a young man, like you don’t run with one of the most notorious killers to come out of the Birch Housing Projects.
Been running with him as far as my people could go back, at least. Him, his maniac cousin, and the other little niggas you started up a gang with.
“See, if you’re not from around here, you don’t know about us.
But that doesn’t mean we don’t know what else goes on in this city.
I throw you a bone, and every mothafucka who hears about it will think they can waltz in here, offer me a deal, and get a piece of my pie.
Or worse, you and your crew think you can expand into my shit, and then you’ll have to find out the hard way how dangerous Geronimo Land is.
So again, youngblood, why the fuck should I even consider your offer? ”
Nigga grins at me, flashing silver capped double fangs like he won.
And maybe if I was just trying to be on some real estate shit, I would have backed down. Everything he’s saying is facts. It’s a reason he’s on top, and has been for so long. He don’t know me from a can of paint, and isn’t hurting for money.
But this don’t have nothing to do with Foe Dub, or tryna bang it out over colors.
I can’t give up. Not on this.
There’s a picture frame facing him. “May I?” I ask, reaching for it.
He lets me and I take it and turn it around on me.
It’s a double frame. The first one is a wedding picture of a younger Apache and a very pregnant woman.
She’s gorgeous, obviously Native American, with skin the color of brick, long flowing hair, and a turquoise headpiece.
The second photo is from the same day, since Apache is wearing the same linen suit.
He’s standing next to another guy. He has a prominent G tattooed on his neck and is smiling at the camera, which oddly makes him look even more dangerous.
“Beautiful wife, Mr. Beverly,” I remark, setting the frame back down.
He straightens it out before smiling slightly at the frame. “She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.”
“So, love at first sight then?”
“Yes, definitely. I was eighteen when we married. A child came right after.”
“My parents had that.”
He narrows his eyes at me as his lips twitch. “I didn't know you knew your father.”
“Oh, I didn’t. Yo peoples were right, my birth certificate is blank.
But Ma Dukes still told me it was love at first sight.
She only knew the nigga like a day. Met ‘em, made me, then never saw him again. But she called him the love of her life until her last breath. The way they met, I’m pretty sure the nigga’s in the dirt now.
Boy was a wild one. But I like to think they’ve reunited in the afterlife. ”
Something I can’t place glints in Apache’s eyes. “That’s a beautiful–”
“My bad, Mr. Beverly, I’m not done. See, the lovebug bit me, too.
Her name is… well, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is, I’m in love with that girl.
Have been for years. She’s had a shitty life, but she’s still a piece of the sun here on Earth.
It’s just taking a while for her to figure it out, but I’m a patient man, only when it comes to her.
“She’s got it in her head she doesn’t want to lean on me.
Started dancing to make some money. Only…
well, you know I’m Foe Dub, we run South Kenton, or on the way to it.
It would be nothing to suggest muthafuckas don’t hire the light of my life.
But my baby is smart, she came on down to East Kenton, right to Paradise and got a job.
Like you said, y’all run shit here. You not gonna listen to no little niggas.
And besides, I need to make a statement.
That’s why I wanna buy Paradise. This ain’t even for my gang, my niggas don’t know I’m here.
And when we do diversify our commercial real estate, this will still be totally mine, just managed by them.
“We not tryna encroach on you. I just… I just honestly need to make sure my shorty safe.”
Damn, I sound like a bitch.
But then Apache’s scowl turns into a grin. “There’s hope for you yet, Royce Atkins.”
Present
I’d like to say my tech skills are on par with Shad’s, but they not, and my bro is MIA. No one can get a clear angle on who shot at us at the basketball game, and KPD ain’t no help either.