Kyan
The night he had been waiting on for what felt like his entire life had finally arrived. Ma’Kyan Blount had been number two for as long as he could remember. He had grown up in a small town on the outskirts of Houston, Texas, born to a middle-class couple, Patricia and Ma’Kyan Blount Sr. He came into the world as a number two, and that meant he was always in his father’s shadow. No matter what he did, he didn’t do it as good as his dad. Even if he thought he did a great job.
“I was great in math. Get that B up to an A.”
“I had better form when I shot my jumper; go practice until your hands bleed.”
“Sit up straight; you don’t see me slouching, do you?”
The list went on and on. It wasn’t the pressure that got to Kyan. It was the constant comparisons. Nobody saw him as his own person. He was just an extension of the man that had come before him. When his mother died suddenly of a heart attack at an early age, he desperately needed to be his father’s number one for once. He was only 17 at the time and had never dealt with a pain so severe, but his father was too busy trying to replace her to make Kyan a priority. She hadn’t been in the dirt for a year by the time Kyan’s father got remarried to a woman named Carla. She was beautiful, and ten years Ma’Kyan Sr.’s junior. But he was head over heels. Kyan often wondered that if his father knew she had a thing for “number twos,” would he have gone forward with the marriage.
The first time Kyan slept with his dad’s new wife was when he was out of school on break. Back then, his father worked long hours for an electric company, so that meant Kyan and Carla often spent a lot of alone time together. A few times, Kyan had noticed Carla give him extras during mealtime or had come check on him a few times throughout the night. He thought it was because she was trying to do the “motherly thing,” but in truth, she wanted to be anything else but a mother to him. She took Kyan’s virginity, and the two of them continued a secret relationship for a year. For once in his life, he had someone who made him feel like number one, and he fell in love with her. On his eighteenth birthday, he was going to ask her to run away with him, but his father walked in on them in the act before he could pose the question.
“Carla, what the hell are you doing?” Ma’Kyan shouted when he saw his wife riding Kyan like a rodeo queen in Kyan’s small bedroom.
The look of detest frozen on his face made Kyan afraid to come from under the covers on his full-sized bed. His father’s gaze went back and forth from him to Carla. The two lovers thought that he was supposed to work late, but there he was . . . home early.
“Baby, I can explain,” Carl said, grabbing her robe and wrapping it around her before she got up from the bed.
Kyan felt his limp penis slide out of her when she climbed off of him and reached for his underwear and pants while she tried to calm his father down.
“Explain what? There ain’t shit to explain! You’re fucking my son!”
“Baby, I’m so sorry,” Carla pleaded with him and placed the soft hands Kyan loved so much on Ma’Kyan’s chest. “I just get so lonely here by myself. You work so much, and when you get home, you don’t have any time for me. And, well, Kyan looks so much like you to me. I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me. I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”
“And what do you have to say about this shit, boy? You’re too much of a little bitch to get your own woman? I house you and clothe you, and this is how you repay me? You gotta get your shit and get the hell up out of here! I don’t ever want to see you again. You ain’t no son of mine!” Ma’Kyan shouted and turned back to Carla. “And you? I’ll deal with you later. Go to our bedroom.”
“Carla?” Kyan asked with a confused expression on his face. “He’s kicking me out. Aren’t you gonna come with me? I thought you loved me.”
“I can’t love a boy who can’t even provide shelter or pay a bill,” Carla said, looking him square in the eyes. “I love your father. Now you heard him—get out.”
Kyan hadn’t felt a hurt like that since the loss of his mother, and it sent him into a rage. Once again, he was just number two. He left, but his anger caused him to come back and set fire to the house, killing the couple in their sleep. The fire was ruled as an electrical freak accident, and since Kyan was 18, he was free to go where he pleased.
He only had the clothes on his back and enough money for a bus ticket. He didn’t know why at the time, but he chose New York, and that would prove to be the best decision he ever made. There, he met Arnold “Sunny” Walker, a young street hustler. They called him Sunny because he shed light wherever he went, and that’s what he did when he found Kyan sleeping on a bench. Sunny not only put him on with the crew he was running with, but he gave Kyan half of the clothes in his wardrobe and a warm bed to sleep in. They were thick as thieves and grew in ranks together. Kyan had finally found an equal, and he was happy with that. They worked under a big-time hustler named Baller doing runs and hitting licks for him. It kept money in their pockets and food in their stomachs, and at the time, that was enough for them. However, there was something about Sunny that Baller saw in him that he didn’t see in Kyan.
Over the years, Kyan watched Sunny rise to the top, and although Sunny never left Kyan behind, he was right back to being number two. Kyan didn’t know when the seed of poison was planted in his spirit toward his best friend, but it was long before he sent Kameron to his home. That day was just the moment Kyan knew his heart had gone completely black. He didn’t feel anything at the loss of the woman he’d grown to call a sister or the little girl he claimed to love like a niece. All he cared about was finally being number one. Kyan thought that although Sunny had survived, it would be easy to take his spot. However, he had underestimated Kameron’s claim to the streets. When Sunny went down, their most loyal switched sides and left Kyan with no army, no workers, and no clientele. He was forced to uproot his life and move with the man he had set up.
Sunny grew content with the life of a normal man, but Kyan couldn’t get the thirst of the fast money out of his system. He didn’t just want one territory; he wanted them all. The streets sang to him like a siren to a sailor at sea. The hunger that he felt in himself manifested in a boy he was entrusted to care for. LaTron looked up to him, more than his father. And finally, he was somebody’s number one. Still, the feeling of fondness for the boy didn’t stop him from planting the seed of hatred toward Kameron, although he knew it really should have been toward him. He was the one who pointed Tron in the direction of revenge, but in reality, he just wanted the boy to do what he couldn’t. And when the deed was over, so would his need for Tron.
Kyan knew that he could have easily just told Tron about what he wanted to do, but he didn’t want the boy to tell Sunny. Not only that, but in the end, Kyan didn’t want to share. It was enough having Tron think that he called the shots in Albany. Kyan molded Tron into the perfect soldier but took note of all his weaknesses. Sunny being number one. Tron’s father was all the family he had left, and Kyan knew he wasn’t built to be in the world alone. By killing Sunny and taking back the army he’d lent, Tron had nothing and nobody. He was defeated. The thought of him alone and lost in his own regretful thoughts made Kyan feel victorious. He’d been patient for years, and finally, he was about to see the fruits of his labor. He just had one final opponent before he could finally place the crown on his head.
Klax Turner.
As the time in the day winded down, an eager feeling crept in Kyan’s stomach. He knew that by the fearful expression on Klax’s face when he saw Kleigh that he would cooperate with all of his requests. The location of where Kyan kept Kleigh was the place he kept anything of value of his enemies. It was an old run-down building in Albany that had been many things before it was shut down. The last business that owned the property was a call center, which was why there was so much open space and random rooms to the side. In some rooms, there were things; in others, there were people. Sometimes in his business dealings, Kyan held things as collateral, whether it be an object or a person. And if the person doing business with him did not either pay what they owed or did as he asked them to, he kept whatever it was and did what he pleased with it.
He sat in what he had made his office in the back of the building. If a person sat inside and shut the door, it would be hard to believe how worn down the rest of the place was. He’d painted the walls, installed carpet, and had a custom-made desk imported from Tokyo. His fingers rasped the top of the mahogany desk as he contemplated the events of the night. His men had orders to shoot Klax the moment he introduced Kyan to the buyer, but not before he watched a bullet enter his sister’s skull.
Knock! Knock!
“Come in,” Kyan called out when he heard the knuckles against the wooden door.
“I brought her, boss,” NuNu said and walked in with the young woman in tow.
Kyan’s eyes didn’t directly fall on her, but through his peripheral, he saw her sit down in the seat on the opposite side of the desk. Kyan’s hand smoothed down the crisp green Versace button-up he wore as he glowered at NuNu who was having a hard time staring back.
“You good?” Kyan asked.
“Yeah, I’m straight,” NuNu answered.
“You sure about that, because I’ve been hearing a pretty good story about you going around? You know what they’re saying about you?”
“Nah, and I don’t really care, either.”
“Well, I care, because when niggas find you passed out in a whorehouse with your dick out, how do you think that makes you look? Weak. And how do you think that makes me look? Weaker than that,” Kyan spoke in a frigid tone. “If it weren’t for the fact that I’ll need your impeccable aim tonight, I would shoot you where you stand.”
“That dirty bitch drugged me,” NuNu said. “Everybody done got played by some pussy before.”
“You sound dumber than you look, little nigga!” Kyan barked. “If a bitch can get the one up on you, what message are you sending my enemies? Don’t become a liability. I don’t do liabilities. Go make sure everything is in place for tonight. We have a big move to make.”
“You got it, boss,” NuNu said sounding genuinely happy to have an out from Kyan’s dangerous presence.
When he was gone, Kyan finally turned his attention to the young woman sitting across from him. She was pretty, although her eyes had a worn look about them. The clothes she had on were disheveled and dirty since she’d been wearing them for a few days. Her hair was messy, and a bath would have done her much good.
“Tell me something good, Cali,” he said, and she jumped slightly when he said her name.
“I-I don’t know what you mean, daddy,” she spoke softly calling him what she used to call her pimp.
“You know exactly what I mean. I thought you were working on getting back into my good graces. You were supposed to befriend your new roommate.”
“Oh, yeah. That.”
“And what have you learned?”
Cali had been in his clutches for a little under a month when her pimp didn’t want to pay what he owed. Eventually, he ended up paying with his life, and Kyan was going to do the same to Cali, but she had proven herself to be useful to him. That was, until she proved otherwise. While on a setup job with Joey Donald, a man who was 20K in the hole with Kyan, she decided to play with her nose. She got so high that she let it slip that people were coming to kill him, and he ran. It took a week for Kyan to finally catch up with him, and because of that slipup, she had to be punished. Her only option of redemption was to dive into the mind of her cell mate, Kleigh Turner.
“S-she’s a tough cookie to crack, baby. She only talks about how she’s sure her brother is gonna save her.”
“Did she tell you anything else about her brother?”
“No. Nothing at all. Just that she knows he’s gonna save her.”
“Hmm, interesting,” Kyan said, tapping his fingers on his desk.
It grew quiet in the room, and the only thing that could be heard were his fingers hitting the wood. He stared at her without blinking, searching her face for a lie. The only thing he found was fear.
“I’m telling you the truth, daddy,” Cali said. “I wouldn’t lie to you. I-I-I’m the one who told you the truth when I screwed up the last time.”
“You’re right,” Kyan said, slowly reaching into his desk.
“I’ll be a good girl,” her voice came out as a plea. “I promise I won’t mess up again.”
“I know you won’t . . . because you won’t get the chance.”
From his desk, he grabbed the .32 that he kept there and pointed it at her. Before she got a chance to move out of the way, he pulled the trigger. The gunshot was loud, and the bullet went through her throat and came out the back of her neck—a clean shot. Her eyes widened, and her breath turned into a gurgling sound. She wrapped her hands around her throat and tried to apply pressure to the wound, but it was futile. Kyan watched the life leave her within seconds, and she fell jerking to the ground until finally, she was still.
“I just got this damn carpet,” Kyan complained.
It didn’t matter, however, because, after that night, he would be switching locations permanently. He checked the diamond-studded watch on his wrist and saw that the time read almost four in the afternoon, and right on time, he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. Sure enough, when he removed it and read the text message on the screen, it was an address from an unsaved number. It was showtime. He left the office, leaving Cali’s body there to bleed out and headed over to the large parking garage where his people were waiting for him.
“You ready?” Kyan asked the large group of men as he approached the black Yukon trucks.
“Yes sir,” they replied in unison.
“Then let’s load up, boys! It’s time to head out. This time tomorrow, we’ll be on top of the world!” Kyan said, and they did as they were told.
Most of them were street soldiers, but a few of them were ex-military. If Klax had something up his sleeve, he still didn’t have a chance against his manpower.
“The girl is in the van,” NuNu said, walking up on Kyan and pointing to a white van behind the three trucks.
“Good, you ride with me,” Kyan said, getting inside the back of a truck. “We both know I can’t trust you around pretty girls.”
* * *
The meeting place was in the Bronx, so Kyan reached the destination a little after six. It was an old loading warehouse so that they could pull their trucks into it with no problem. As promised, standing alone and unarmed next to an old freight was Klax. Kyan’s goons, armed with automatic weapons, got out first to scope out the area. They fanned out while some went to check the back and the others went inside.
“Clear out back!”
“Clear inside!”
Once they heard that, NuNu got out and walked around to open Kyan’s door for him. He stepped out and dusted the sleeves of his shirt before walking toward Klax. He had a smile on his face, while Klax looked somber. Beside and all around Kyan, all of his men had their weapons pointed at Klax just in case he tried something.
“Where’s the buyer?” Kyan said, looking around. “I thought this was a meeting.”
“Shit, you could have fooled me. Looks like you came in here prepared for war. How many people you got with you? I count twenty.”
“Don’t play with me, nigga. Where is he?” Kyan said, looking around. “You better not be gaming.”
“He’ll be here,” Klax assured him. “But first, where is my sister? Before anything pops off, I need to see that Kleigh is still alive.”
Kyan had half a mind to tell Klax to go to hell, but he told himself they would both be dead soon anyway. He nodded at NuNu, who went to the van and opened the back. From it, he pulled out a very alert Kleigh. Her wrists were bound, and her mouth was gagged, but she was still alive.
Kyan watched with satisfaction as the look of relief on Klax’s face turned into one of malice. He chuckled and watched Klax’s fists clench and release.
“You’ve seen what you needed to,” Kyan said. “Now, it’s time for you to hold up your end of the bargain.”
“A’ight, I got you. You know how I just said he’d be here?”
“You mean he ain’t coming?” Kyan said and put his hand up, preparing to give his goons the signal to blow Klax off his feet.
“Nah,” Klax shook his head, and it seemed as if his tall frame suddenly got even taller. “He’s already here.”
Kyan looked around and waited to see somebody else enter the warehouse. When he didn’t, he turned back to Klax, and that time, a broad smile came over his face. It took him a second, but Kyan finally understood what Klax meant.
“No. It can’t be. The buyer is—”
“Me,” Klax said with a short laugh.
“Nah,” Kyan shook his head in disbelief. “You’re lying. It can’t be you. If you’re the buyer, why run Harlem?”
“Harlem plays its part in the flow of New York,” Klax told him. “I get the product, store it there, and distribute accordingly. I run marathons, not sprints, and there is always a bigger picture in my head. You hold the highest position on the board when everybody thinks you’re playing the same game as them. I prefer to be an equally respected player on the surface, but in the background, I’m the one pulling the strings. Like right now.”
“Right now?” Kyan scoffed. “Now that I know who you are, I have all the pieces on the board. You just gave yourself away to me. All for her?” He waved a disgusted hand at Kleigh. “You should have cut off your nose to spite your face because now, you’ve lost everything. Kill him!”
Pfft! Pfft! Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!
The shots were quick and precise. The five men closest to Kyan dropped to the ground with loud thuds as bullets lodged in their brains. On his right arm, Kyan noticed a red dot traveling in an upward motion to his chest and up to his face.
“It’s on your forehead now,” Klax confirmed when Kyan could no longer see it. “My people hung back until now. Now, you’re all surrounded. One small move and you all die. Another mistake you made was assuming the fear of losing somebody I loved would make me sloppy. Nah. That made me sharp. It made me realize I was dealing with an amateur. You thought I would really come here alone? Why? Because I was desperate? I was desperate, and that’s why you should have feared me. Tell ’em to drop their weapons before I redecorate this warehouse with your blood.”
“Put them down,” Kyan said, feeling the heat of the beam on his forehead.
“But, boss,” Kyan heard NuNu say from behind him.
“Put your fucking weapons down!” Kyan shouted, and that time, they listened.
“Now, send my sister to me,” Klax said.
Without turning around, Kyan motioned for NuNu to do as Klax said. Kleigh, who hadn’t been given food or water since she’d been taken, stumbled past him, and he got a strong whiff of urine. When she got to Klax, he embraced her tightly as if he didn’t smell a thing and kissed her forehead.
“You know I had you, right?” he said, ungagging her and freeing her wrists. “Who did this to your face?”
When she pointed back to NuNu, he pulled a pistol from the waist of his jeans. NuNu moved, knowing what was about to happen, but Klax was too fast for him. Since he moved, the bullet didn’t explode his face like Klax wanted to, but it took off a large portion of his head. NuNu fell to the ground dead on impact, and Klax let the hand holding the gun fall to his side.
“Now, back to you,” Klax said, looking back at Kyan. “You’re lucky I’m in good spirits now that I have my sister back. I’m not gon’ kill you.”
“That ain’t gon’ be good for you, youngblood,” Kyan snarled. “If I walk through them doors, best believe you won’t make it to next week.”
Dak dak dak dak dak dak!
Behind Kyan, the rest of the men he brought with him fell one by one as the automatic rounds tore into their bodies. When the gunshots stopped, Kyan stood like a lone soldier, and his eyes went from his people’s dead bodies back to the mysterious smile on Klax’s face.
“Oh, my bad, G. I guess I gave you the wrong impression,” Klax said with a laugh. “I said, I wasn’t gon’ kill you. I didn’t say you weren’t gon’ die.”
That’s when Kyan heard a voice that made his blood run cold.
“What’s up, Unc?”
He barely had the chance to face the person he’d helped raise into a man when he heard two shots and felt heat explode in his chest. The last thing Kyan remembered was falling to the ground and seeing Tron’s face staring emotionlessly down at him. He’d never felt pain like the one he felt right then as his blood seeped out of his body and onto the cold concrete underneath him. And then . . . nothing.