Chapter 14
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Keyshia and Clyde woke up early the next morning to a loud knocking on the front door.

“Who is it?” yelled Clyde, fully expecting his brother Sonny.

“It’s me Clyde, Ceasar.”

Clyde wasn’t sure if he was hearing right and asked again, only this time he got off the bed and headed toward the door. “Who?”

“Clyde, it’s me, Ceasar. Open the door.”

Clyde turned toward Keyshia and said, “It’s my other brother.” He said, “Yeah, hold on for a minute,” as he waited until Keyshia grabbed some clothes and went into the bathroom before he opened the door.

When he did, Ceasar walked in without so much as an invitation and said with a serious overtone, “Clyde, what is this stuff I’m hearing about you owing some gangsters some money? What did you get yourself involved in?”

Clyde stood at the door and closed his eyes. Ceasar was the last person he wanted to know what was going down in his life.

“What is going on, Clyde?”

Clyde walked over to the couch and plopped down, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes.

“Clyde, I’m not gonna ask you again: What did you get yourself into?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Clyde said, avoiding eye contact.

“You gonna handle yourself getting yourself killed, that’s what you gonna do!” yelled Ceasar.

“Who told you that shit?” Clyde asked defiantly.

“Martha called me last week and said that she ain’t heard from you and you ain’t been home in two weeks. I called back last night, and she told me that Sonny told her you got yourself in some kind of big trouble. I then called Sonny’s sorry ass, and I made him tell me what happened and where you were at.”

Clyde sank further into in the couch.

“Now I heard that you owe some people some money, something about you killed a man?” Ceasar began to plead, “Clyde, look at me and tell me this stuff ain’t true.” Clyde tried to look up, but he couldn’t face his brother. Ceasar immediately put his hand over his eyes and cried, “No, Clyde, no, you didn’t!” Ceasar had to sit down because he was beginning to grow lightheaded. Clyde wanted to say something, but he couldn’t find the words.

They remained silent until Ceasar finally spoke up. “I never wanted you to turn out like Sonny, Clyde. I always wanted better for you. But I guess I failed.” Clyde was so ashamed and knew by the way Ceasar’s voice cracked that he was crying. Clyde felt even worse.

“Ceasar, it’s not what you think.” Clyde finally looked at his brother. “All I can tell you right now is that I got it under control and it’s gonna be all right.” He watched Ceasar wipe the tears from his eyes and continued, “I promise you that I’m not gonna turn out like Sonny. I got my own mind and my own plans. I don’t like the things that Sonny do; you taught me better than that.” Clyde knew that he’d hurt his brother deeply and stood up to give him a hug.

Ceasar whispered, “I want you to promise me that you’ll be careful, and if you need anything,” he stressed, “anything, I want you to call me and I’ll be there no matter what.”

Clyde nodded.

“I love you, Clyde.”

“I love you, too, bro.”

They pulled away, and to break the tension in the room, Ceasar changed the subject. “Where you been?”

Clyde smiled and said, “I been on a li’l vacation out of town with my friend.” He blushed as he told his brother, “We went to Atlantic City for a couple of days.”

Ceasar smiled and said, “Atlantic City, huh?”

Clyde continued to look like a child as he added, “Yeah, we went to see Lyfe Jennings and everything.”

Ceasar was impressed. “Who is this somebody that got my li’l brother acting like he was five years old again?”

Clyde chuckled and began to blush even more. “You want to meet her?” he asked, hoping he would say yes.

“I surely would.”

Clyde walked quickly over to the bathroom and tapped on the door. “Keyshia, come out here, I want you to meet my other brother.” Keyshia timidly walked out of the bathroom. “Come on out,” Clyde urged, “he’s cool.”

Standing tall and smiling proudly, Clyde said, “Keyshia, I want you to meet my big brother, Ceasar.” Keyshia smiled nervously.

Ceasar looked her over and smiled and said, “Oh, Clyde, she’s so shy . . . and beautiful.” Keyshia immediately felt his warmth. “Clyde, she looks like one of those girls on America’s Next Top Model with them long, sexy legs.” Both Keyshia and Clyde blushed as if they were children. “Come here and give your brother-in-law a hug.”

Keyshia walked over to him, and he gave her a genuine, loving hug. Keyshia closed her eyes and felt honored to be accepted by his brother.

After they chatted for a little while longer, Ceasar told them he had to go. He gave both Keyshia and Clyde a warm hug, and as they walked him to the door, he added, “Oh yeah, Clyde, don’t forget Sunday is the end of the month and we gonna visit Mama, so make sure you ready, ’cause Sonny will be picking us up, and you know how impatient he is.”

Clyde nodded and told him he wouldn’t forget.

About an hour after Ceasar left, Sonny stopped by and told Clyde to come outside and talk. When Clyde came out, he wore a black hoodie, a pair of jeans, and an untied pair of Timberlands as they took a walk around the block.

“All right, listen,” Sonny said in a low tone. “I spoke to that nigga’s people last night, Black Sam and ’em.” Clyde’s heart skipped because he knew of Black Sam. Sonny, always paranoid, looked over his shoulder and continued, “They pretty much knew who it was that put in the work, but the reason them niggas ain’t hit you up yet was because they knew I was your brother. They figure out of respect, they would come see me to let us know that they know all about that fucked-up shit that you did.” He paused until a Mexican family had passed and then continued. “See, the last thing them niggas give a fuck about is that li’l bit of money that they lost—that shit is chump change to them. But they don’t want niggas thinking they soft or look pussy if they don’t react to the shit.” He looked at Clyde. “Sugar Bear was part of they crew, and he represented Black Sam. So to them niggas you might as well have violated him.”

Black Sam and his crew had been around Harlem pumping one form of drug or another since the seventies. Sam trusted nobody, but he treated all his workers well. He never got into street politics with the fiends and never hung on the block no longer than an hour. Black Sam wasn’t a killer by any means, but he’d contract that shit out in a minute if he felt a reason to do so. He was a just person by nature, willing to work a problem out with a sit-down, and only as a last resort would he conspire to have you murdered. He had the old-school mentality of take over the entire block and hire from within, that way the money would be recycled in the neighborhood and everyone would be happy. Black Sam knew that Sonny and his right-hand man, Wolf, respected him enough not to ever step on his toes. Above all, Black Sam did not want beef with the two natural-born killers and had his boys reach out to Sonny, so shit didn’t get out of hand.

“So this is the deal,” Sonny said, “a hundred and fifty thousand, plus Sugar’s jewelry.”

Clyde’s face was blank. One thing Sonny envied about his brother was his smoothness under pressure. No matter what the circumstances were, Clyde would never let you know how he actually felt. He had the perfect poker face, emotionless. “They wanted to kill yo’ bitch—” Sonny caught himself. “My bad, but they wanted the deal to include yo’ girl come up missing.” Sonny looked around again and said, “They had her building staked out for the three days. She was lucky she never came home. They wanted me to find her and kill her as part of the deal. But I told them no dice, she is not to be touched.” Clyde was relieved. “So it’s your call, B, what you wanna do?”

Clyde just looked him in the eye and said, “Okay, how much time do I get?”

“Two weeks,” Sonny said. “Yo, if you think you can’t handle it, I got a bank job lined up and we need a third man to pull it off.”

Clyde shrugged. “Why don’t you just find somebody else?”

“ ’Cause I don’t trust nobody else!” Sonny snapped. “This is a bank job, and you can’t bring along just any knucklehead; a nigga got to be on point! That’s why I need you, bro. So what do you say?” Clyde shook his head again, wanting no part of it. “Come on, man, we be in and out in eight minutes, eight fuckin’ minutes, yo! You in or what?”

“No, Sonny, damn! If I wanted to get down with you, I’d say so. Stop pressuring me all the time with that shit.”

Sonny backed off and said, “All right, kid, I feel you.” Both stood by and watched a father and his three little sons on their way to the park to play basketball.

Clyde asked, “What if I don’t make the deadline?”

Sonny turned toward him and gave him a glare that was undeniable. “Hell, we up in Harlem, baby boy. We got to get them niggas before they get us!”

Clyde knew exactly what he was now up against. Come up with the hundred and fifty thousand or participate in a massacre of an infamous Harlem gangster and his entire crew. He also sensed that Sonny would rather wipe out Black Sam. Clyde didn’t like the odds and for the first time asked his brother for help. “Yo, Sonny, man”—Clyde fought with his pride—“you think if I come up a little short, you can front something to put towards this thing?”

Sonny responded coolly, “Bro, please, you think I got that kind of money?” Clyde suddenly wondered why he’d asked. “But, like I told you,” Sonny continued with enthusiasm, “we need a third gun on this bank job to pull it off. If you get down on this one with us, you’ll have enough money to pay them niggas back and move out of Harlem with yo’ sweet li’l girl and live sweet the rest of your life, kid.”

“Naa, I’ll take my chances doing my thing,” Clyde said.

“All right, suit yourself. You got enough heat to handle your business?”

Clyde thought about the question. He’d tossed the shotgun in the murder and hadn’t given much thought about needing weapons until now. “Naa, not really.”

Sonny looked at his younger brother and shook his head. He got into his SUV and said, “Yo, you better step up your game, son. You fuckin’ around with your life, so you better take this shit serious.” He went to the back of the SUV and pulled out a green duffel bag from under the wheel well and handed it to Clyde.

Clyde knew exactly what it was. “How many hot ones are on them?” he asked.

Sonny seemed offended that Clyde had asked how many people he’d killed with the guns he was giving him. “None, nigga. Them shit are clean as a whistle. You think I would do that to you?”

“Yo, I’m just asking, all right? You was the one who taught me to always ask that shit.” Sonny felt a little proud. “Thanks,” Clyde said to him.

“Hold up, I got something else for you.” Sonny walked to the back-door seat and lifted the seat cushion. He told Clyde, “You gonna like this one.” He pulled out a brand-new shotgun and showed it to him for a second. He saw Clyde staring hungrily at it and smiled, then commented, “Yeah, I know your style, nigga, I was the one who taught you.” Then he dug deeper in the rear and pulled out two bulletproof vests and held them up,

“These those new shits, they can stop hollow points.” He slid them all into the bag, pushed the bag into Clyde’s chest, and said, “You got enough heat to bring down Fort Knox, so you shouldn’t have no problem coming with that short money if you do yo’ shit right.”

Clyde sucked his teeth and said, “Short money, I gonna hafta put in work twenty-four seven to make them numbers. Fuck is you talkin’ ’bout, Sonny?” Clyde hung his head down, and for the first time in his life he felt defeated.

Sonny leaned against his SUV and said, “You got options, my nigga. So whenever you want to stop fucking around with this chump change and make this real money, get at me, ’cause this job is going down soon.”

Damn, Clyde thought, he ain’t never seen Sonny this persistent about a job before. “You know my answer,” he said.

“All right, All right,” Sonny said, throwing his arms in the air. “Do you.”

Clyde turned and was walking back toward the house when he heard Sonny call him.

“And yo—”

Clyde turned and gave him the evil eye.

“Don’t forget to bring out the jewelry so I can drop it off. I’ll drop ’em off tomorrow, and that’ll give you an extra day.”

Clyde continued toward the house.

Clyde felt a chill run through his body as he walked across the street to give Sonny Sugar Bear’s jewelry. Though he’d never admitted to Sonny that he participated in the slaying, handing him the jewelry would be confirmation enough. Clyde knew Sonny would give him an “I always knew you were just like me” look, so he just threw the bag of jewelry in Sonny’s lap as he sat in his SUV and walked away without saying a word.

As Clyde crossed the street, he heard his brother’s mocking voice scream, “Oh yeah, one more thing, killer!” Clyde turned around to Sonny’s sarcastic smile. “Don’t forget, next Sunday we going to see Mama, so be ready!”