CHAPTER 2
Two Days Earlier
“Bitch, you better not come to my birthday dinner looking regular.”
My cousin Shay yelled through the phone before I could even say hello.
I laughed as I switched the phone to my other ear and continued counting the money spread across my kitchen table.
“Who the fuck you think you talking to?” I asked. “I don’t do regular.”
“Well, you better be at my house by eight. Everybody already said they coming, and I’m not waiting all night because you somewhere chasing money.”
“I’m coming. Damn.”
“You said that last year.”
“And I showed up, didn’t I?”
“Three hours late.”
“But I came bearing gifts.”
“You brought one little-ass bottle of Casamigos.”
“That bottle cost more than your outfit.”
“Fuck you,” she said, laughing. “Just be there.”
“I got you.”
I hung up and went back to counting.
Ten thousand.
Twenty.
Thirty.
The money looked good sitting on my table, but most of it didn’t belong to me. That was the part people never understood about the game. They saw the cars, clothes, jewelry, and vacations, but they didn’t see how much of the money already had somebody else’s name on it.
Everybody called me Key. Not just because it was short for Keyshia, either.
I could unlock any door that money stood behind.
If you needed something moved, I could move it.
If you needed something found, I knew who to call.
And if somebody owed you money, I could usually get it without firing a single shot.
Usually.
My phone vibrated against the table.
It was my sister, Tasha.
I ignored it.
She called again.
Then again.
On the fourth call, I finally answered.
“What?” I snapped.
“Where you at?”
“Why?”
“Keyshia, just answer the question.”
“I’m at home.”
She got quiet.
Not regular quiet, either. It was the kind of quiet that made the hairs on my arms stand up.
“Tasha, what’s wrong?”
“Who have you been doing business with lately?”
I looked around the kitchen even though I was alone.
“What are you talking about?”
“I heard something.”
“Heard what?”
“I can’t tell you over the phone.”
I sucked my teeth. Tasha had always been dramatic. Every rumor became an emergency once it reached her ears.
“I don’t have time for this. I gotta make a move, find an outfit, get my hair done, and be at Shay’s birthday dinner by eight.”
“Forget that damn party. You need to listen to me.”
“Then talk.”
“Not on the phone.”
Before I could respond, another call appeared on the screen.
Dre.
The man responsible for the biggest play I had been offered all year.
I had been waiting since that morning for him to call.
“Tasha, I gotta go.”
“No, Key, you need to—”
I ended the call and answered Dre.
“Yeah?”
“You still trying to make some money?”
I glanced at the stacks spread across my table.
“I’m always trying to make money.”
“Good, because I got something for you. Easy pickup, easy drop-off. You’ll clear twenty-five thousand before tonight.”
Twenty-five thousand dollars.
That was enough to take care of everything I had planned and put the rest toward the life I had been quietly building for me and my kids.
“What’s the catch?” I asked.
“There ain’t one.”
There was always a catch.
Another message came through from Tasha.
DON’T DO ANYTHING WITH DRE. CALL ME NOW.
My heart skipped, but I quickly convinced myself that my sister was overreacting again.
“Where do I need to go?” I asked him.
“I’ll send you the address. Meet me there in an hour.”
“What am I picking up?”
“A package.”
“What kind of package?”
“The kind that’ll put twenty-five bands in your pocket.”
I leaned back in my chair. Dre and I had done business plenty of times, but never for money like this. He usually called me when he needed a couple ounces moved or somebody to hold something overnight.
Twenty-five thousand dollars meant this wasn’t no little play.
“Who else knows about it?” I asked.
“Nobody.”
“Then why me?”
“Because you’re Key. You get shit done.”
His answer sounded right, but something about the way he said it didn’t sit well with me.
“Be careful,” he said before hanging up.
I stared at the phone.
Dre had never told me to be careful before.
I looked at Tasha’s message again.
Then another one appeared.
HE’S WORKING WITH SOMEBODY.
I called her immediately.
The phone rang twice before she sent me to voicemail.
“Now you don’t wanna answer?” I mumbled.
I tried again.
No answer.
I gathered the money from the table, wrapped a rubber band around each stack, and carried it to my bedroom. I pulled the false bottom from the last drawer of my dresser and placed the money underneath it.
My eight-year-old son, Jayce, appeared in the doorway.
“Momma, can I get some cereal?”
“Boy, you know where the cereal at.”
“We don’t have no milk.”
I sighed and checked the time.
“Get your shoes. We gotta go to the store.”
“Can Amaya come?”
“Of course she can come. I’m not leaving her here by herself.”
He disappeared down the hallway, yelling for his little sister.
Everything I did was for them.
At least that was what I told myself.
The house, the private school, the vacations, the new clothes—none of it came from the job listed on my tax returns. According to the government, I owned a struggling beauty supply store that barely made enough money to keep its lights on.
In reality, that store washed more money than it earned.
I walked into the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. At thirty-one, I still looked younger than most women my age. Smooth brown skin, long lashes, and a body that made men forget I had two kids.
But my eyes told a different story.
They looked tired.
I had been telling myself I was almost done with the game for three years. Every time I reached the amount I said I needed, something happened. A bill. A bad investment. Somebody getting arrested. Somebody getting killed.
Then another play would come along.
Just one more.
That was the lie every hustler told themselves before everything fell apart.
My phone buzzed.
Dre had sent the address.
It was an abandoned house on the West End.
I frowned.
Why we meeting there? I texted.
His response came immediately.
Too many eyes at my spot. Trust me.
Trust me.
Those two words had probably gotten more people killed than any bullet ever had.
“Momma, we ready!” Jayce shouted.
I grabbed my purse and checked the small handgun inside it before walking out.
During the drive, Tasha called again.
“What?” I answered.
“Where are you going?”
“To the store.”
“With the kids?”
“Yes, with the kids.”
“You going to meet Dre?”
“Why do you keep asking me about Dre?”
“Because I saw him yesterday.”
“Okay?”
“He was sitting in a car with Detective Lawson.”
My foot eased off the gas.
Detective Lawson had been trying to catch me slipping for almost two years. He had raided two houses connected to me, picked up three of my people, and followed me so many times I knew his undercover cars better than he did.
“You sure it was Lawson?”
“I know what that motherfucker looks like.”
“Where were they?”
“Outside that little bar on Market Street. They were sitting in the back of a black truck talking.”
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.
“Maybe Lawson was questioning him.”
“Then why did Dre shake his hand before he got out?”
I didn’t answer.
“Key, leave that shit alone,” Tasha continued. “Whatever he offered you, don’t do it.”
“You don’t know what they were talking about.”
“And neither do you.”
“I can handle Dre.”
“You think you can handle everybody. That’s your problem.”
“No, my problem is everybody counting my money like they helped me make it.”
“This ain’t about your money!”
“You don’t know what it’s about. You saw two men talking and created a whole story.”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“I don’t need protection.”
“Yes, you do!” she shouted. “You have two kids sitting in that car with you while you’re riding around doing God knows what!”
That struck a nerve.
“Don’t speak on my kids.”
“I’m speaking on my niece and nephew because you keep acting like you’re untouchable.”
“I said don’t speak on my fucking kids.”
“Key—”
I hung up.
Jayce was watching me from the back seat.
“Why you mad at Auntie Tasha?”
“I’m not mad.”
“You were yelling.”
“Stay out of grown folks’ business.”
He turned toward the window.
The guilt hit me immediately, but I was too angry to apologize.
By the time I pulled into the store parking lot, I had made up my mind. I wasn’t going to the address Dre sent. Not until I found out exactly what he and Detective Lawson had been discussing.
I bought milk, juice, and enough snacks to keep the kids quiet. Then I drove straight to my beauty supply store.
My best friend, Nesha, was behind the counter scrolling through her phone when we entered.
“Look who finally decided to come to work,” she said.
“I own the place. I come when I want.”
“And that’s why this bitch losing money.”
“This place ain’t losing shit.”
She looked at Jayce and Amaya before lowering her voice.
“Did Dre call you?”
I stopped walking.
“How you know Dre was supposed to call me?”
Her smile disappeared.
“He mentioned it.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
“Where?”
“At Shay’s house.”
“What was he doing at Shay’s house?”
Nesha hesitated.
It only lasted a second, but I caught it.
“I don’t know. I stopped by to drop off her birthday gift, and he was there.”
“Was anybody else there?”
“Just them.”
“Just Dre and Shay?”
“I think so.”
The uncomfortable feeling in my stomach grew heavier.
First, Tasha saw Dre with Lawson.
Now, Nesha was telling me Dre had been alone with Shay.
Everybody around me knew something, but nobody seemed willing to tell me the entire truth.
My phone rang again.
Dre.
I stepped away from the kids before answering.
“You on your way?” he asked.
“Change of plans.”
“What you mean?”
“I mean I ain’t doing it.”
Silence filled the line.
Then Dre laughed.
“You scared now?”
“I’m cautious. There’s a difference.”
“This ain’t like you, Key.”
“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”
“I know you need that money.”
“I don’t need anything bad enough to walk into a setup.”
More silence.
I expected him to deny it. Instead, his voice dropped.
“Who said something to you?”
That question told me everything I needed to know.
“I gotta go.”
“Key, wait—”
I ended the call.
A second later, a message appeared.
YOU ALREADY IN IT.
I stared at the screen until the words blurred.
“What’s wrong?” Nesha asked.
Before I could answer, a black truck slowly passed the beauty supply store. The windows were tinted too dark for me to see who was inside.
The truck reached the corner, made a U-turn, and passed again.
I grabbed both of my children.
“Nesha, lock the door.”
“What?”
“Lock the fucking door!”
She rushed toward the entrance and turned the lock.
The black truck stopped across the street.
Nobody got out.
My phone rang from an unknown number.
I answered but didn’t speak.
For a few seconds, all I could hear was breathing.
Then a man’s voice said, “Take the play, Keyshia.”
“Who is this?”
“If you don’t, somebody else will. And you don’t want that package ending up in the wrong hands.”
“What’s in it?”
The man laughed.
“Something that belongs to the Carters.”
The call ended.
I stood frozen with the phone pressed against my ear.
Nesha walked toward me. “What did they say?”
I looked through the window at the black truck.
For the first time, I understood that the twenty-five thousand dollars wasn’t the real reason Dre had chosen me.
This had something to do with my family.
And whoever was inside that truck knew exactly who I was.