Dirty Work, Part 1, page 19
Next, Kip jumped in the water and continually asked Kid to join him. Kid told his brother he can’t swim, and Kip motioned him to come in.
Suddenly Kip began to drown. Kid reached his hand out to save his brother, but he slipped from his grasp and went under.
Kid squirmed toward his chair and slid into it. He felt such sadness inside of him, the tears came soon after.
Before long, there was a knock at the door, and Kid wheeled himself to answer it.
Devon and Papa John walked into the Extended Stay hotel room, but there was no Kip. The two men stared at Kid with forlorn faces, not knowing how to tell him that his only family and caretaker had just been murdered. They stood in front of him looking and feeling guilty.
But Kid already knew. His tears were already pooling down the sides of his face. His pain was showing. He looked at both men gloomily. “He’s dead, right?”
Devon and Papa John stood silent for a moment, still unable to answer. The two thugs began to tear up, and for them to cry, especially Devon, the truth was there. Papa John nodded.
“He came to me in my dream. He was trying to tell me something, something he felt I needed to know,” Kid told them.
Both men were baffled by his comment. It was the saddest day of their lives.
Kid looked away for a moment and wiped the tears from his eyes. He then collected himself. “Who did it, and why? I want to know everything.”
Kid listened intently as Papa John went into detail about everything, first saying to him that it was Maserati Meek who murdered his brother, that there was a shootout and Kip died with a gunshot wound to his neck. He then explained how Kip came up with the idea to rob money from the drop. He talked about Maserati Meek and how he could never be trusted. Papa John brought up Jay P and the failed hit, the murders they did, the money. He didn’t hold anything back. He felt that he owed it to Kid to tell the whole truth.
“Kip died in war,” Papa John stated.
Kid sat there listening with an expressionless look, taking it all in. His brother lived a thug’s life to the fullest. It was no shock to him, though. Kip took plenty of risks, but at the end, it cost him his life.
“We gonna find Maserati Meek, Kid, and we gonna body that nigga. I promise you that,” Devon finally spoke. And it was a promise he planned on keeping. “It might take some time, ’cuz that nigga got an army and now he’s on point. But sit tight; we got this.”
Suddenly, Kid stood up tall and healthy on both his legs, balled his fingers into a tight fist, and slammed it into the wall, creating a gaping hole.
“What the fuck, yo!” they exclaimed together.
Devon asked with bewilderment, “Nigga, you can stand?”
“Kid, what kind of freak shit is this?”
“Kid, you need to tell us somethin’. Start talkin’, man, ’cuz”—Devon shook his head quickly—“I’m fuckin’ freakin’ right now.”
“I’ll explain later, but now, we hunt down the man that murdered my brother and we make him pay. I want him and everything close to him to suffer,” Kid said.
Devon and Papa John stared at him in a trance. Just a moment ago, he was a disabled, chess-playing nerd who read books and played video games. Listening to him talk, they figured his brother’s death had momentarily made him go crazy.
“Kid, what are you talkin’ ’bout? You ain’t built for this shit,” Devon said. “Trust me, bruh.”
Kid shot back, “Don’t tell me what I’m built for, Devon. You have no fuckin’ clue who I am and what I’m about.”
“We lost Kip. We not tryin’ to lose you too,” Papa John said.
“Don’t worry about me; I know how to handle mine. This entire time y’all thought y’all were looking out for me, I was the one looking out for y’all—especially Kip.”
Both men were clueless. He definitely was going crazy. Maybe that’s how he was able to walk, by going crazy.
Kid asked, “Y’all remember Uncle Junior and his peoples?”
Devon nodded. “What about them?”
“That’s my handiwork.”
Suddenly Kid had the attention of Devon and Papa John.
“Uncle Junior was a threat to my brother, and like every other threat before and after him, they needed to go.”
“You killed Uncle Junior?” Papa John asked.
“Outside the lobby of his building in Marcy Projects, him and two other niggas,” Kid said. “And there was Jay P in Connecticut and many others. I tried my best to protect my brother. This is my fault. I should have bodied Meek a long time ago.”
When Devon asked why he remained in the wheelchair, Kid replied, “Because who would ever suspect anyone in a wheelchair?”
Kid had always planned on telling his brother that he could walk, but as time went on, he procrastinated more and more. Kid felt the day of his accident had brought them even closer together, and that Kip enjoyed being his caretaker.
Kid had started walking again five years earlier. The doctors had said his condition was permanent, but they were wrong. He did suffer from a critical spinal injury, but it wasn’t damaging enough. Therapy did help some, but his will to walk again helped him even more. Each day was a battle until finally, he could feel his toes, then his feet and shins, and he moved each piece of him slowly but surely.
Kid told Devon and Papa John everything, leaving both men in utter shock. He had been playing possum the entire time.
And with the snap of his fingers, he stepped right into his brother’s shoes and became the boss. Papa John and Devon were able to look past the nerd glasses, the wheelchair, and his intelligent speech, and see a cold-blooded, calculating killer who puts in dirty work.
Kid told them, “The moment my brother is buried, the pain will begin.”
***
The news of Kip’s death was crushing and heartrending for Eshon. She didn’t want to believe it at first. He couldn’t be dead. He had just survived a shooting the other day, they had sex, and he finally said the words I love you to her. But when the truth really hit her, hearing the details of his murder, how he was gunned down in the street, she immediately had a panic attack. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t do anything but hyperventilate with her chest feeling like it was about to cave in. She felt faint, sick, and nauseous, trembling uncontrollably. They had to call 911.
Eshon’s tears came like a giant flood in her eyes. She couldn’t stop crying. She couldn’t do anything but grieve. She didn’t want to live herself. She couldn’t bear living without him, not seeing him ever again. She wanted to marry him and have his kids, but now that dream was destroyed.
***
Kip’s wake was at Benita’s Funeral Home on St. Nicholas Avenue. Many people came to pay their respects and to view his body one last time. He was dressed immaculately in a slim fit, gray virgin wool and silk three-piece suit by Hugo Boss. His body was lying in an ebony black 18-gauge steel casket. There were dozens of flowers surrounding his casket and a picture of Kip three years prior. He was all smiles, wearing a blue Yankees fitted cap and a gold chain, looking like a gangsta.
Kip’s funeral was held at Trinity Cemetery on Broadway. It was a warm, sunny Friday in June. Over two dozen people were gathered around the casket at the burial site, including Kid, Devon, Papa John, and Eshon.
Eshon wore a black dress and dark shades. It had been the roughest week of her life, and things were about to get rougher for her. She didn’t know if she could go through with seeing him dead in the casket and watching them put his body into the ground, but she had to be there to say goodbye and kiss him one last time.
Brandy stood next to her friend, and though she was in grief too, she was there to console Eshon.
There wasn’t a dry eye around. Everyone was grieving and in pain. Though Kip was a thug and gangsta, he was definitely loved.
Each man was dressed in a suit and tie, and they were mournful. Kid hid his tears behind dark sunglasses. He sat in his wheelchair still pretending to be crippled. There was going to be hell to pay for his brother’s death.
The preacher said, “Those we love don’t go away, they still walk beside us every day, unseen, unheard, but always near, still loved, and still missed, and very dear. But God is here, and our pain will be short-lived. The kingdom of Heaven will forever give peace where we will find comfort in Jesus. Amen.”
While the burial was underway, Nana arrived late, looking swanky in a black dress and shoes. She had climbed out the cab and clutched her cane. She frowned at the gate of the cemetery. She didn’t want to attend his funeral at all. When she heard the news about Kip, what hurt her most was the loss of financial support.
She had been crying for days, not for Kip but over the breakup. Curtis had left her. Once he had his hands on the $100,000, he was no longer heard from again. He had left town with his younger girlfriend.
Now with no money, no Kip, no Curtis, Nana was worried about her future. What was she going to do? Who would pay her rent? How long would she be able to stay in the retirement community? Nana felt like she was becoming sick for real this time.
She walked into the cemetery and observed everyone from a distance. She could see Kid in his wheelchair, among friends, and grieving by his brother’s casket. She had no intention of speaking to him. She had no intention of paying full respect since she had the cab waiting on the street. She showed up just to save face with the brother, and then turned around and left.
Kid noticed her quick arrival and departure. He kept his anger concealed. He would deal with her in due time.
Also missing was Jessica. Kid looked around for her, but she was nowhere in sight. That angered him too. She had made up an excuse not to come. But after everything Kip had done for her, helping her get money, there was no excuse. She should have been at his brother’s funeral.
But Jessica was a no-show because she was afraid that Maserati Meek might have eyes on Kip’s funeral, and she didn’t want to risk being seen there. She didn’t want Meek to know that she knew Kip.
When the caretakers started to lower Kip’s casket into the ground, Eshon burst out a thunderous cry and screamed. Eshon fell to her knees in heartache and trembled. She wanted to sing at his funeral, but she didn’t have the strength or composure. She was a mess. Her tears seemed never-ending, and Brandy did her best to console her.
Papa John and Devon had to help her to her feet and escort her to the car.
Kid shed tears behind his shades. He remained poised, although he felt a mixture of feelings. He took a deep breath, dried away his tears, and kept his eyes on the casket until it was no longer visible.
He tossed a black chess king into the grave, a promise to his brother that his death would be avenged. It was a new day for him and the city. Kid had been reborn. He wasn’t a kid anymore—Tragic events had fast-forwarded him into a cold, vengeful man.
Thirty-Five
Though Kid Kane missed Harlem and his home, he felt it wasn’t time to go back yet. He felt secure and safe in Mount Vernon at the Extended Stay hotel, the last place he’d seen his brother alive. He had a hundred thousand dollars in cash, thanks to Kip, and he had set up shop there. His days of playing chess in St. Nicholas Park were gone now. He was now the boss. He was smart, and he was provoked into taking Maserati Meek down piece by piece, brick by brick. He had a plan and a crew to help implement his plan.
To everyone else, including Eshon, Brandy, and Jessica, he was still a nerdy cripple—a helpless, grieving little brother. But to Papa John, Devon, Maniac, and other recruits in his growing organization, Kid had transformed into something a lot more sinister.
Devon wanted to take off Maserati Meek’s head, but Kid was against it, saying that he wanted to make him suffer. Devon and Papa John didn’t see why they should keep him alive, but Kid Kane had the same philosophy as his brother: One way to kill a man and still leave him alive is to take away everything he loves and has. You start by the feet and work your way up to the head, and Meek would see himself falling apart. Kid knew what it felt like to feel crippled and helpless, unable to walk, body falling apart. It was a distressing feeling.
Maserati Meek was about to fight two wars, one with Panamanian Pete and a stealthy war with Kid. And Meek would soon see himself unraveling slowly.
First thing was surveillance, stalking and infiltrating his organization. Information and knowledge were power. Kid wanted to know everything about Meek. He wanted to know what time of the day the man took a shit, where he lay his head, all about his family and any friends, what his favorite food was, what his biggest fears were. Kid wanted to feel attached to Maserati Meek’s hip, to think like the man and know his every move before he even thought of it.
Kid sat in his wheelchair in the hotel room. He had transformed the area into a war room, equipped with computers, pictures of foes and territories, maps, battle plans, and ideas and strategies. This was chess in real life. He had moved his pawns forward. He was the king and queen, and he was putting his pieces into play. When it was time for them to move, all hell was going to break loose.
But first, Kid had to handle some personal business and pay someone a visit. It was time, and he couldn’t hold in his frustration and anger any longer.
***
He arrived in Poughkeepsie early that morning with Maniac. This was going to be his last time in Poughkeepsie and his last visit with Nana. Reluctant previously, this time he was eager to see and speak to the bitch. Alone, he wheeled himself into the building, signed in under a pseudonym, and took the elevator to the second floor. He knocked and waited.
Nana soon answered. She was shocked to see him, but she managed to smile. “Kid, hello. It’s great to see you, although this visit is unexpected.” She invited him inside. She closed the door, relying on her cane to get around.
It wasn’t great to see her. He was there on business. He made his way into the apartment. He looked at her. “I hear you’re having trouble paying your rent for this place.”
“Since Kip’s death, it’s been hard for me, Kid.” She sighed. “Kip was a great man, and I miss him a l—”
“I’m not here to talk about my brother. He’s gone.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m here now, Nana.”
Nana smiled. She took a seat in a chair, still clutching her cane.
Kid sat in his wheelchair stoic about her condition —if she had one. Now it was time for the truth to come out, and he wasn’t leaving until every ounce of her bullshit was revealed.
“Kid, I know you and I have had our differences over the years, but I never stopped loving you like you was my own child. And Kip would have appreciated this.”
He gruffly reminded her, “I said I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Okay, what do you want to talk about?”
“I’m here to talk about you and your cancer. What stage are you again?”
“Stage three.”
“What’s the name of your doctor that diagnosed you?”
“Doctor Bullard. I can show you papers, Kid. What’s wrong? Where is this going?”
“Where I want it to go,” he replied harshly.
Suddenly Nana was in the hot seat.
“I know Kip gave you a hundred thousand dollars for chemo and other medical expenses. Where’s the money, Nana?”
Nana sat there almost speechless. She wasn’t ready for what came her way. How could she tell him that the money was gone? How could she tell him about Curtis, and how he swindled her?
“Kid, the money is going toward my treatment”—A sudden chronic cough interrupted her explanation. Looking short of breath and sickly, she said, “Water. I need some water.”
The cough sounded serious. Nana was good, but she wasn’t fooling him. He wheeled himself into the kitchenette, opened her fridge, and grabbed bottled water for her.
Nana’s coughing continued. She took the water and drank it, trying to placate her cough.
“Shall we continue?” he said coolly. “I have plenty time to talk.” He looked at Nana with a hard gaze. She wasn’t about to fake her way from the truth. “I found a specialist for you, Nana. I feel you should get a second opinion.”
“I don’t need a second opinion. Why would I lie about having cancer?”
“I never said you were lying. It’s simply a second opinion.”
“My doctor is the best. I trust his diagnosis, though I’m scared. And I’m trying to get ahead of this sickness.”
Kid grew tired of playing nice. “You’re a greedy fuckin’ bitch, and you used my brother to get money from him. He did a lot for you when you didn’t fuckin’ deserve it. He even robbed a drop to help pay for a sickness that you don’t have.
“The first day I met you, I knew you were a fake bitch, only looking for cash and handouts. You took advantage of our situation. Nice government checks every month for taking in two ghetto niggas, and giving us the nitty-gritty while you lived in glamor, having nice things. I always saw through you, you bitch!”
“How dare you, Kid! You need to leave now!” she demanded.
“I’m not going anywhere, Nana. We’re not done talking.”
“You were never him, and you never will be your brother. The only thing you’ll be is a crippled fool. You legless, retarded muthafucka! Kip will always be a better man than you, more now that he’s dead.”
“There she is—the evil bitch I’ve been looking for. Now that’s who I wanted to see come out. It’s about time.”
“Get out, before I throw your handicapped ass out of my fuckin’ house!” Nana lifted to her feet, not needing a cane this time, feeling superior to him. What could he do? What power did he have?
He smirked at her and wasn’t intimidated at all. “You know, Nana, we do have one thing in common.”
“You think I’m playing with you? We don’t have shit in common.”
“Oh, but we do. We both know how to play out a sickness very well. In fact, I commend you, because you’re a great hustler and a crafty con artist. But you know what? I’m a better hustler and smarter con.” He suddenly sprung up from the wheelchair, showing her the miracle. He could stand and walk.
