Chapter 16 Vivica
VIVICA
Rashid’s compound looked the same as always. Old money vibes that he’d always kept up even though his money was new and dirty as hell.
I pulled into the circular driveway, killing the engine. The security at the gate had waved me through without question—they knew my face. Had known it for decades.
I sat in the car for a moment, gripping the steering wheel. I’d been avoiding this visit for weeks, finding excuses, burying myself in work. But his daughter had called this morning with the update.
He didn’t have much time left.
I checked my reflection in the mirror. Smoothed my blazer. Took a breath.
Then I got out and walked to the front door.
He didn’t have much time left.
I checked my reflection in the mirror. Smoothed my blazer. Took a breath.
Then I got out and walked to the front door.
One of his security opened it before I could knock. Young. Face I didn’t recognize—the old guard was gone, scattered since Rashid started fading.
“Mayor Banks.” He stepped aside. “He’s been expecting you. East wing.”
I didn’t acknowledge him. Just walked past into the house I knew as well as my own. Through the foyer. Past the study where Rashid used to hold court. Toward the east wing where they’d moved him.
The east wing was unrecognizable.
Where there used to be leather furniture and bookshelves, now there was a whole hospice setup. Monitors beeping. IV drips. Oxygen tanks. A hospital bed in the middle of the room surrounded by equipment that said this man didn’t have long.
And in that bed, propped up on a mountain of pillows, was the man I’d loved for forty years.
The man in that bed was not the Rashid I remembered.
The Rashid I knew had been six-foot-two of solid muscle, dark skin gleaming, smile sharp enough to cut. The kind of man who walked into a room and owned it without saying a word. The kind of man who made women stupid and men nervous.
The kind of man I’d fallen in love with forty years ago.
This man was a shadow. Thin. Gray. The cancer had eaten him from the inside out, leaving behind bones wrapped in paper-thin skin. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow, machines beeping a rhythm that felt like a countdown.
I pulled a chair to his bedside and sat down.
For a long moment, I just looked at him. Remembering.
I was fresh out of Howard with a degree in political science and ambitions bigger than my bank account.
I’d grown up in Southeast, Section 8 apartments and government cheese, watching my mother work herself to death for men who didn’t deserve her.
I’d sworn I would never be like her. Never be poor. Never be dependent. Never be weak.
I met them at a fundraiser. Some councilman who owed people money. And there they were—the two most powerful young Black men in DC, standing on opposite sides of the same room.
Alexander Banks Jr. Old money. Legitimate business. Heir to the Banks Reserve empire his father had built. Polished. Charming. The kind of man whose family had been building wealth for generations.
And Rashid Muhammad. New money. Street money.
Already running half of DC. Younger than Alexander, but didn’t seem it, wearing those bow ties and carrying himself with that Nation of Islam discipline, even though his money came from places no mosque would sanction.
Dangerous in a way that made my knees weak.
They were best friends. Had grown up together. Come up together. Alexander’s legitimate business had benefited from Rashid’s… influence… more than once. They were brothers in everything but blood.
And they both wanted me.
For two years, I played them against each other.
Let Alexander take me to galas and fundraisers, let him introduce me to the right people, let him show me what legitimate power looked like.
Then I’d slip away to Rashid’s bed, let him show me how power really worked—not the kind they taught in textbooks, but the kind that moved through back rooms and unmarked envelopes.
I loved them both. In different ways. Alexander was my future—money, status, a path to everything I’d ever wanted. Rashid was my weakness—that heat, that danger, that feeling of being truly seen by someone just as ruthless as I was underneath.
But Rashid had his hands dirty. Blood on them. Bodies behind him. And I wanted more than being a kingpin’s woman. I wanted legitimacy. I wanted my name on buildings, not police reports.
So I chose Alexander.
I married into the Banks family. Became respectable. Started my political career with my husband’s money and my own ambition. Climbed from city council to state legislature to mayor of Washington, DC.
But I never stopped wanting Rashid.
And he never stopped wanting me.
The affair started six months after my wedding.
I told myself it was a mistake. A moment of weakness. But one moment became a night, and one night became a month, and one month became years. Decades. An entire secret life running parallel to my public one.
Alex never knew. Or if he did, he never said. He was too busy with his own mistresses, his own distractions. Our marriage was a business arrangement dressed up in wedding vows. We both understood that.
But Rashid… Rashid was real.
I helped him over the years. Used my position to smooth things over when his organization ran into trouble. Blocked investigations. Lost paperwork. Made sure the right people looked the other way. It wasn’t hard—half the politicians in DC were on someone’s payroll. I just happened to be on his.
When I threatened Prime with that evidence against Rashid, I knew I’d never actually use it. Never in a million years would I send this man to prison. But Prime didn’t know that. He didn’t know about our history, our love, our decades of secrets.
He just knew I had leverage. And I needed him to do a favor for me.
It worked. Prime destroyed Dante, and I got my divorce. Everyone got what they wanted.
Everyone except Rashid. Who was dying. Who I couldn’t save, no matter how much power I had.
His eyes opened.
Slowly. Like it took everything he had just to lift his lids. But when he saw me, something flickered there. Recognition. Warmth.
“Viv.” His voice was a rasp. A ghost of what it used to be.
“Hey, baby.” I took his hand. It felt like holding paper. “I’m here.”
“Took you… long enough.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” Tears burned behind my eyes but I refused to let them fall. Not yet. “I should have come sooner.”
“You’re here now.” He squeezed my hand weakly. “That’s what matters.”
We sat in silence for a while. Just being together. The way we used to after making love, tangled in sheets, not needing words.
“I’m dying, Viv.”
“I know.”
“Doctors say… a few weeks. Maybe less.”
I swallowed hard. “Is there anything you need? Anything I can do?”
He was quiet for a long moment. Then: “My son is coming home.”
I stiffened. “Kasim?”
“Yeah.” A faint smile crossed his cracked lips. “He’s getting out of prison. He’ll be here soon. He’ll finish what I couldn’t.”
I understood what that meant. Kasim would take over the organization, or at least what’s left of it. Would continue Rashid’s legacy. Would be the heir to an empire built on blood and money.
“I did my part,” I said carefully. “Zainab is in custody. The arrest went through. She’s been extradited to California.”
Rashid nodded slowly. “Good. That was important.”
“Prime has always been a thorn in my side.” The words came out bitter. “An embarrassment. Everything he does reflects on me, and he doesn’t care. Never has.”
“That boy loves hard,” Rashid said. “Too hard sometimes. But he’s loyal. Fierce. That’s because of how I raised him.”
“You made him a killer.”
The words hung in the air between us.
Rashid’s eyes found mine. No apology in them. No regret.
“You asked me to protect him. Said you needed someone to make sure he survived.”
I did. I’ve never liked Prentice. He looked too much like Alex and Alex was a cheater.
Sure, I cheated too, but he did it so much and got that bitch pregnant.
I may sound like a hypocrite but I at least had the decency to keep my affairs on the low.
Alex would bring our sons around his whores. He publicly embarrassed me.
So, no I couldn’t stand looking at Prentice.
He reminded me of the man that robbed me of my true happiness with Rashid.
But just because I didn’t like him, didn’t mean I wanted him dead.
I sent him to prison to advance my career but I didn’t want him to die there.
When I found Rashid was in the same prison, I told him to look after him.
A short while later, Rashid told me that Prentice had a lot of promise. That he was a king in the making. A leader. A killer. I didn’t believe him. Prentice was a fat-ass that couldn’t even string together one sentence without stuttering.
“I wanted you to protect him,” I hissed. “Not turn him into a weapon.”
“He was already a weapon, Viv. That boy killed someone at thirteen years old. You think I made him that way?” He coughed, the sound wet and rattling. “I just gave him a purpose. Gave him skills. Made sure when he used that violence, it was strategic. Controlled.”
“You ruined him.”
“I saved him. You’re the one who threw him away.”
The accusation hit like a slap. Because it was true. I’d testified against my own son. Pushed for him to be tried as an adult. Wanted him gone so he wouldn’t destroy my political career.
I’d chosen power over my child.
And Rashid had picked up the pieces.
“We could argue about this forever,” I said finally. “But it doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done.”
“Then why you bring it up?”
“Because I need to know what Kasim is going to do. When he gets here. When he takes over.” I leaned closer. “What are his plans for Prime?”
Rashid studied me with those dark eyes that still saw too much, even now.
“Kasim will handle Prime for taking Yusef out of here and cutting off my daughter’s ear. He crossed the line with that one.”