Chapter 3
Chapter Three
“Good evening, Mr. King. Your party is already upstairs. Your drink will be sent up right away.”
Without pausing his stride, Ace turned to the Sapphire Lounge hostess as he passed her, giving her a small nod in thanks.
“New York City still has a very serious problem with organized crime and I plan to do something about it. For too long these criminals have run our city with violence and corruption. I will make it my mission to bring order.” Ace recognized the aggravating voice belonging to the man he hadn’t yet had the displeasure of meeting but knew much about, coming from the television.
“That was New York’s new District Attorney, Elliot Young this afternoon at a press conference discussing his plans to crack down on organized crime in the city,” the news reporter recapped.
Ace chuckled. Young wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last. With the introduction of racketeering laws in the 60s, a lot of mafia families like his died out. The Kings adapted and that was why they were still on top and always would be.
Together, Ace and his looming shadow, Ray, walked through the dining area and to the back where they entered an elevator that carried them to the top floor not open to the public.
When they reached the door to the meeting room, Ray stood sentry at the door beside the other stone faced guard and Ace entered the room.
Inside, navy blue velvet chairs with gold trim circled an espresso wood conference table.
Around it, Ace’s father, Adonis King Senior sat at one head while their patriarch, Zachariah King sat on the other.
Between them sat Ace's four siblings and Remy Toussaint, Ace's best friend since high school and the third son of the Jamaican crime family.
Though he wasn't a King by blood, Remy had become as much a fixture in their operations as anyone at the table. His cybersecurity expertise and data company made him an invaluable asset, but it was his unwavering loyalty to Ace that had earned him a permanent seat among them.
Von, the youngest, sat slumped in his chair, scrolling on his phone while emptying the candy bowl that usually sat in the middle of the table.
The next oldest, August, tapped away at his computer, either crunching numbers or emptying the bank account of someone that pissed him off. His twin, April, sat beside him with her phone thrust in his face, the screen displaying various hairstyles.
Jrue, the next oldest directly after Ace, hovered near the mini bar in the corner of the office fixing himself a drink. Ace knew he would stake claim to that spot so he could inconspicuously get a refill during the meeting.
Among them were Isaac Kincaid and his father Gerald, the youngest son of Zachariah’s departed business partner and friend, Christopher Kincaid.
Before his death, Christopher had been the other founding member of their families’ law firm and of what the media would unoriginally dub their organization The Black Mafia.
When Christopher and Zachariah formed the mafia and started the firm, Christopher decided that he and his family would take on a background role in their underground affairs while maintaining a vote among the other Afro Crime Council families on the east coast.
Most of the Kincaids stayed far away from mafia business but Gerald and Isaac had been making their presence more known in the past few years.
After dapping up the men and kissing his sister on the forehead, Ace took a seat in the chair beside his father.
“Aight let’s get to it,” Senior spoke, raising his voice so everyone in the room could hear him. At his command, everyone put away whatever they were doing and pulled up a seat surrounding the table with the exception of Jrue.
“Jrue, you first,” Senior prompted, starting the meeting.
Jrue lowered the glass from his lips and cleared his throat.
“City Councilman Kent and I came to an understanding about that property tax so we shouldn’t have any more trouble with the clubs.
I spoke to the Toussaint’s rep and they agreed to drop the price on guns if we let them use our streets to transport from now on,” Jrue gave his update quickly and concisely, then brought his drink back up to his mouth.
Senior looked to Ace, deferring to him as he’d started doing more recently. Senior had progressively given Ace more responsibility and decision making power over the past few years in preparation for him to soon transition from the heir to the Boss.
“How much are they dropping the price,” Ace asked.
“9.5%” Jrue answered.
Ace looked to August, who took only a moment to do the math in his head before nodding.
Making eye contact with his father Ace nodded his approval.
“Tell them it’s a deal,” Senior said. “Aug?”
“Revenue is up on all fronts. The new strip club is doing well and cleaning fast so we shouldn’t need anymore for now. I do suggest figuring out what our next front will be so we’re ready.”
“Sounds good,” Senior said. “Good job on the club, Von.”
“I’m sorry can you say that again? I didn’t hear you. I could’ve sworn y’all said I was just bullshitting,” Von said leaning forward and cupping his ear.
“Shut up nigga, he said good job,” Aug rolled his eyes.
Senior chuckled. “Your turn, Von.”
“Oh, I can talk now?” Von asked, placing a hand to his chest in fake shock.
Everyone smacked their lips at his dramatics.
“I’m just saying 5 seconds ago it was ‘shut up nigga’,” he said with his hands raised in mock surrender.
“Talk, boy,” Senior barked.
“Aight, aight,” Von laughed. “All boroughs are pulling strong numbers, especially Manhattan. I’m thinking of promoting Blue to my team. He’s been solid and runs a tight ship.”
Ace nodded. Blue was one of their best lieutenants.
“Good shit,” Ace said. “I just got word from our connect that the new shipment should hit the docks soon so I’ll make sure our guys at the ports know. Give your men a heads up so they can coordinate their pickups.”
Von saluted.
“Baby girl?” Senior turned to April.
Without pausing the filing of her nails, April gave her report.
“I went to the Cancer Society fundraising gala last week and that developer Tony Grayson was telling everyone his excuse for not being a top donor this year was because he’s having financial problems and was thinking of selling some of his prime real estate in the city.
Might be a good business venture to snatch some of that up,” she shrugged.
“Oh and Senator Perry was fucking his secretary in the bathroom while his wife sat at their table. I got pics.”
Ace chuckled. “Those will definitely come in handy.”
“Exactly. I’ll send you the encrypted files of the photos, Jrue,” she threw over her shoulder. Jrue nodded silently.
“Thank you baby girl,” Senior said. Wordlessly, he turned to Ace.
Ace began his report. “Tyrell and I came to an understanding about his debt. Aug, keep an eye out for that in the next,” he paused to look at his watch, “twelve hours.”
August nodded.
“Keyshawn’s trial was this afternoon and everything is handled on that front but we have bigger fish to fry. Harris is back sniffing up our asses again and it seems there’s a new DA that has his sights set on us.”
Jrue snorted. “So did the rest of them.”
“Exactly. And until this one learns the lessons those did, we need to keep this ship running tight. Any liabilities or anyone even suspected of cooperating with law enforcement needs to be eliminated immediately. He’s gonna be looking for any footholds and we can’t give him any.”
“Understood,” Von nodded. As head of their street operations, it would be his job to root out any potential liabilities.
That was when Remy spoke up. “Speaking of, that nigga Perry was seen talking to a detective from the 52nd precinct.” He tossed black and white surveillance photos onto the table that sure enough showed their Queens Lieutenant sitting at a diner with a plainclothes cop.
“I did some digging and it looks like they’re holding his mama over him.
She was arrested for selling knockoffs in the Bronx. ”
Ace scoffed. Why did folks continue to learn the hard way that if you took matters into your own hands rather than coming to him with legal troubles, it would always end badly?
“Well now she gone be selling fish plates to bury that nigga,” Ace said definitively.
Von chuckled. “You a cold ass motherfucka, boy.”
Ace shrugged. Their family had lasted as long as they had without hiding in the shadows by keeping a firm hand on their operations and eliminating all weak links. Perry was a good soldier but Ace no longer trusted him and with the Kings, that was a death sentence.
“Does anyone have any final remarks before we adjourn?” Senior asked, scanning the room. When everyone shook their head, he nodded.
“Now that business is concluded, I just want to make the formal announcement that at the start of the new year I’ll be stepping down,” Senior said. “I’ll still be on at the firm but I’ll be turning over my position in the family to Ace if he accepts.”
“You sick, daddy?” April asked, worry etching her features.
Senior waved her off. “Healthy as an ox, baby. I just wanna spend more time with your mother. Maybe enjoy some grandkids if one of y’all would settle down.” He sent a pointed side eye at Ace who pretended not to notice it.
The oldest of his siblings at 34, he’d been hearing snide remarks and petitions for grandkids for years and was unfazed.
Though arranged marriages were still the standard amongst crime families, the Kings were more lenient towards love matches. That leniency was wasted on Ace, though. He’d long ago given up on the idea of romantic love.
“I’m sure Von got a few running around Brooklyn, we just gotta find ‘em,” Ace joked. He was sure his brother had been sowing his royal oats all over New York and beyond.
That earned laughs from around the table.
Von smacked his lips. “I wrap my shit up nigga,” he protested.
Once they settled, Pops, who had been silent until this point, cleared his throat. Zachariah King was a man of few words but plenty action. While Ace learned his disarming charm from Senior, he inherited his silent but deadly approach from his grandfather.
“Grandson, do you accept?”
“I do,” Ace nodded.
Claps and whoops sounded from Ace’s siblings and the Kincaids, but he kept a blank expression.
He’d known this day was coming. Since the day he was born, Ace’s life revolved around the day that he took over the King Mafia from his father and carried on the legacy his grandfather started. It seemed that day had come.
“Who will your team be?” Senior asked.
“Von will be my underboss and Jrue will be my advisor. Everything else will remain as is,” Ace said. His voice was firm and definitive as would be expected of a Boss.
Ace glanced around the table for reactions and could have sworn he saw something pass over Isaac’s face but it was gone as soon as it appeared.
He stood and went to the bar, fixing himself and Senior a glass of the scotch sitting atop it. The rest of the room followed suit.
Ace handed one glass over and raised the other. “Congratulations on your retirement, Senior. Not many get to leave this life willingly.”
A chorus of agreements and clinking glasses sounded around the room as they toasted Senior stepping down and becoming the past and Ace becoming the future.