Shai Clark sat in his office, hunkered down in his favorite chair. It was a large leather wing-backed number, lined with metal studs. If you looked closely, you could see that the studs were crafted to resemble small golden crowns. It had been commissioned by his late father, handcrafted and imported from Italy. Shai could still remember the first time he had climbed into the beautiful chair. With his thin legs hanging over the edge, feet barely able to touch the ground, it was like sitting on a cloud and looking down at the world. Years later when the leather had begun to crack and some of the crowns had fallen away, the effect it had on Shai hadn’t changed. It was then he realized that it wasn’t how the chair was built that made him feel powerful when he sat in it, but what it was built for - to seat kings.
On the desk in front of him, his laptop sat flipped open. An old college basketball game was playing on the screen; NC State vs. Kentucky. The television was muted, but Shai didn’t need to hear the play-byplay to know what was happening in the game; he had relived it more times than he could count. The match had been promoted as The Battle of the Backcourts, with a future NBA draft pick out of Kentucky trying to knock the chip from the shoulder of a second-year point guard from New York City who had nearly singlehandedly carried N.C. State to within a win of a tournament berth. The stands inside Rupp Arena were packed for the nationally-televised event. Most expected it to be a good game, but none were quite ready for the ensuing duel. Kentucky’s NBA prospect hung thirty points on N.C. state, with twenty coming in the first half, but the cocky sophomore’s game-winning three-pointer is what everyone remembered. Shai Clark carrying his team to the tournament was amongst the sweetest of his life, and then the other shoe dropped and life as Shai knew it had been ripped to pieces.
In addition to being the school’s star point guard, Shai was also the campus bookie. However disgruntled loser blew the whistle about Shai taking bets on the games he played in, and got him bounced out of school and a lifetime ban by the NCAA. His father putting a good lawyer on the case saved Shai from being brought up on charges, but his career and reputation had been ruined. With his academic and sports career dashed, Shai returned home and got involved in the family business.
A soft knock on the door drew Shai’s attention from the game. “Come,” he said, closing the laptop.
A heartbeat later, Swann walked in the room. He had traded his street clothes for a button-up shirt, jeans and Timberlands. “I thought I’d find you hiding in here, Slim,” he called Shai by his nickname.
“Man, I wasn’t hiding.”
“I don’t know what else I’d call it when you’ve got about three hundred guests on the property, but your ass is tucked away in here instead of mingling. You were probably in here watching that damn game again,” Swann turned the laptop towards him and flipped it open.
“You think you know me, don’t you?”
“Better than most. We’ve been running tough since the seventh grade,” Swann reminded him.
Swann and Shai had a history that went back to before Poppa was boss of bosses and the Clarks were still living in the hood. Back then, Swann was just a snot-nosed kid selling dime bags on the block for whoever would allow him to eat. In the beginning, Poppa didn’t like the fact that Shai and Swann were so tight, because Swann was what his father called “street poisoned” and he didn’t want it rubbing off on his middle child. He had a plan for Shai, and getting caught up in the things Swann was doing wasn’t a part of that plan. Even when he tried to forbid Shai from running around with Swann, the two would sneak and hook up anyhow. After a while, Poppa realized that there was nothing he could do about the bond between the two boys, so instead of pushing Swann away, he pulled him in closer. He pulled Swann in off the corners and gave him a position as a part of Tommy’s crew. While Shai was getting his education in the classroom, Swann was getting his on the block. Tommy’s new protégée proved to be not only loyal, and it didn’t take him long to climb the criminal ladder. By the time Shai had come home from college, Swann had risen from Tommy’s pupil to his right hand.
Shai had been around the streets all his life, but never truly in them. After Poppa was murdered, it was Swann who Shai leaned on heaviest to help put things back in order. Shai Swann became both his confidant as well as his enforcer. Swann played a major role in holding the family together when things were falling apart and in truth, Shai doubted that he’d have been able to hold onto what his father had built without his best friend. When Shai’s ascension to the throne became official, it was only right that Swann stand as his right hand and second in command. Some of the other capos had frowned on the move, thinking it should’ve went to Big Doc, or maybe even Angelo. Both of them had served faithfully under Poppa Clark for many years, which was the exact reason Shai didn’t offer the position to either of them. They were Poppa’s friends, but Swann was his. The old ways were gone and he was ushering in a new era for the Clark family as he saw fit.
“How did that thing go?” Shai asked.
“For the most part things got a little messy, but that’s to be expected when Tech is involved,” Swann told him.
Shai shook his head. “That little muthafucka is all bite and no bark.”
“That’s why I fucks with him,” Swann said proudly. “By the way, I appreciate you inviting Tech today. I know you really don’t care for him or the Dog Pound.”
“It wasn’t an easy decision, believe that. I figure if you insist on grooming that little maniac then we might as well begin the process of teaching him some table manners. You just make sure you keep that dog on a short leash while he’s here.”
“You ain’t gotta worry about that, Shai. I made it clear to Tech how important this day is so he ain’t gonna fuck it up,” Swann assured him.
“You better make sure he damn well doesn’t, because if he does then it’s your ass!” Shai warned.
“Knock it off, Shai. You act like you forgot that we were once young and wild too.”
“Wild is one thing, but Tech and his crew are only a step up from rabid dogs,” Shai said in disgust.
“That’s the same thing they said about Gator, but Poppa gave him an opportunity to prove otherwise. When the time came, Gator laid down his life so you could sit in that chair!” Swann shot back.
Gator was Shai’s wild ass cousin. He was on the run for a murder in Florida and had been hiding in New York. Shai had met a lot of gangsters over the years, but none were quite like his cousin. Gator was down for whatever, whenever and had proven it more than a few occasions during his short time in the service of Poppa Clark. Shai and Gator had always been close, but the blood they had spilled in the streets together strengthened that bond. He was a one-man kill squad and had singlehandedly turned the tide in the Clark war against the Italians. He lived for the Clark cause and had ultimately died for it having given his own life in a fire-fight with the police so that his comrades could escape. There was not a day that went by that Shai didn’t think of his cousin and what might have been had he lived.
“You can’t compare Gator to Tech,” Shai told him.
“Why? Because Gator had us to turn to and Tech is out here all alone? That plus a few years is the only difference between them,” Swann said. “Look Shai, I’m not asking you to take the kid to the park and play catch with him, just don’t be so quick to condemn the youngster. Give him a chance.”
“I’ll think about it,” Shai finally relented.
“Fair enough, but while you’re thinking, just remember that this empire was built on the bullets and blood of men like Gator and Tech.”
“You seen Tommy?” Shai asked.
“Not since this morning. He’s probably in that little private library of his, brooding and shit,” Swann joked.
“Seems like that’s all he ever does lately. Since he came home from prison, Tommy has been acting different and I’m starting to worry about it,” Shai admitted.
“You’d be a little sour too if you had to sit up in a wheelchair for the rest of your days, not to mention the two years he had to lay down while fighting those murders,” Swann pointed out.
Poppa Clark’s murder affected the lives of everyone around him, good or bad, especially his children. It had changed them all mentally, but Tommy was the only one forced to make physical adjustments. He had been first on the scene the evening Poppa was hit. They had Shai to thank for discovering Fat Mike’s treacherous plot. Tommy showed up, guns blazing and murder in his heart. He laid down several of the assassins, but was too late to save his father. Shortly after Tommy showed, so did the police. All it took was for them to see a reputed killer, armed and standing in a ring of dead bodies, and it wasn’t even up for debate. The police put a dozen slugs into Tommy without giving it a second thought. They had failed in their attempt to kill Tommy, but succeeded in breaking the foundation of the Clark family.
Tommy hadn’t been given a chance to mourn his father let alone recover from his injuries before he found himself locked up on a slew of charges, including multiple homicides. They were charging him with the bodies he had dropped trying to save Poppa.
To make matters worse, because of Tommy’s reputation, the D.A. moved to have him held without bond. They stated that because of the Clark’s vast resources he represented a flight risk, which was laughable. The bullets Tommy took had made him a quadriplegic and he needed round the clock medical attention, which made fleeing unlikely, but the judge went for it anyhow and honored the district attorney’s request. The Clark lawyer, Martin Scott, had filed several appeals, but the ruling stuck and Tommy had to fight the case from the prison infirmary. It was obvious to all of them that someone very well connected was pulling the strings that kept Tommy locked up. With Poppa dead and Tommy caged, the streets reasoned the Clark empire would be easy pickings, but Shai had other ideas about what would become of his father’s legacy. It took close to three million dollars in bribes and backdoor deals for Shai to get the charges reduced to manslaughter and Tommy’s bail reinstated so that they could bring him home, but Shai had already been crowned king and the war was dying out. The battle in the streets was over, but the one to heal Tommy’s broken body was just beginning.
“After all that bullshit and being crippled to boot, I might be sour at the world too, Slim,” Swann continued.
“Had I known the big chair would come between me and my brother, I’d have never accepted it,” Shai said honestly.
“And that’s probably what stings the most. You’ve got something that Tommy has craved all his life and you don’t even want it.”
Shai slunk in his seat, seeming to shrink under the weight he was carrying. “I never asked for the crown, Swann.”
Swann shrugged. “Yet on your head it sits. Ain’t much left you can do about it at this point except wear it as best you can.”
Shai didn’t reply; he simply nodded. Swann was right, as he usually was when it came to those matters. Whether he wanted it or not, the mantle of leadership had fallen to him and he had a responsibility to his father’s legacy.
“Oh, before I forget, I saw old man Chance and his family out on the lawn.”
“Really? I wasn’t sure they’d attend,” Shai admitted.
“C’mon, Slim. Everybody who received an invitation knows it would’ve been taken as a personal insult not to attend. Old man Chance is a lot of things, but a fool isn’t one of them. Besides, you and I both know why he made it his business to show up.”
“To butter me up about this expansion,” Shai sighed. “The King family has been content to rule over Five-Points for decades and now all of a sudden they wanna stretch their legs into Brooklyn. This sudden change of heart is puzzling.”
“Ain’t too much of a puzzle if you really think about it. Chance is a politician, but his bread and butter has always been real estate. Brooklyn is on the come-up. The same run down tenements they were selling for under a hundred grand ten years ago are being priced at close to a million dollars now. If I’d been smart, I’d have invested some of my bread into real estate when Poppa tried to get me to. The old man is probably trying to score one last big payday before he turns everything over to his son, Ghost.”
The mention of the eldest King male made Shai shiver. Ghost King’s exploits in the streets were the stuff of legend. He moved like a shadow, snuffing out life wherever he went. Rumor had it that Ghost’s body count in New York City alone was somewhere in the double digits. It was all speculation because no one could ever positively I.D. him as the killer. He moved as silently as the grave, which is how he had earned the nickname Ghost.
“I ain’t never been no big fan of Ghost or his people, but his little sister Lolli can get it,” Swann said thirstily. “I hope she takes advantage of all this free liquor you setting out so I can try my hand with her tonight.”
“Nigga, you playing with fire trying to push up on that girl with Giselle out there,” Shai warned him.
Swann sucked his teeth. “Man, you know wifey a square. By seven o’clock she’ll be on my nerves to take her home. I’ll drop her off and double back, telling her you need me for something tonight.”
“Oh hell nah. If I get caught up in your bullshit, she’s gonna tell Honey and set off her paranoia meter and I’ll be stuck arguing about shit I did two years ago all night. I love you my nigga, but you better find another scapegoat.”
Swann gave Shai a funny look. “After all the bullets I took, and still take, for your ass? My G, you can’t be serious.”
“That was the old me, Swann. Lately I been trying to keep my spoon out of hoe soup,” Shai said honestly. It was common knowledge that Shai was a player. Before and during his time with Honey, Shai had knocked down women from all across the globe. He was young, fly and powerful, which drew females to him like flies to shit. Shai played modest, but he loved the attention. Adoration from women fed his ego more than being rich or running the empire could have. He’d slowed down after he met Honey, but his tipping out hadn’t stopped all together. Honey was a good woman who held him down and kept his secrets, but Shai was used to having a variety in his life. With age came wisdom and Shai had purged all the side-chicks from his life, but he’d be lying if he said his craving for new pussy wasn’t still lingering.
“So, if you ain’t gonna help me fuck Lolli, are you at least gonna grant her old man’s request?” Swann asked.
“I haven’t decided yet. There are other things to factor into his expansion, like the Wongs. I gave them a little patch of land out there to play with and the King expansion might step on their toes,” Shai said. The Wongs, Billy and Max, were a pair of Chinese brothers who the Clarks did business with. Tommy’s decision to start buying heroin from them instead of Fat Mike was what had inadvertently sparked the war with the Italians.
“Fuck them sneaky ass slants!” Swann spat. “For as much as we sacrificed for them, you’d think at the very least they could’ve shown up today.”
“Be cool, Swann. You know Billy has had his hands full trying to get his brother back into the country after his deportation. Besides, Billy sent a gift with his apologies days ago.”
“Well if he couldn’t make it himself, at the very least they could’ve sent a representative,” Swann countered.
“Billy gets a pass, and let’s leave it at that,” Shai said, letting him know it wasn’t up for discussion. “Where’s Sol? I’d like to bounce this Chance King thing off him before I make a ruling.”
“Lansky called ahead earlier and said he’d be late. He had to take care of something before coming out,” Swann told him.
“I wonder what was more important than coming here and standing as my left hand, as you’re my right?” Sol was one of the Clark family’s oldest and dearest friends. He had been a business partner and advisor to Poppa, and now he lent counsel to Shai.
Swann shrugged. “Who knows? You know he plays his hand close to his chest. He assured me that he’d be here though. As far as this thing with the Kings, I’m sure me and you can put our heads together and figure it out.”
Shai smirked. “I love you for always being there for me, Swann, but this isn’t your area of expertise. I come to you in matter of war, but it’s Sol who I consult in matters of finance. Just keep an eye out for him and have him find me when he arrives. On another note, did Louie get here yet?”
“So far, no meatball sightings, but you know he ain’t gonna pass up no free food or drink. Why’d you even invite that cat when the Italians don’t really fuck with us like that and we sure as hell don’t fuck with them?”
“I didn’t invite him; he reached out through a friend. It has something to do with Gee-Gee and he wouldn’t talk about it on the phone.”
“Sounds like some heavy shit needs to be hashed out. You need me to put a few of the boys on standby in case this nigga comes in here talking crazy?” Swann asked eagerly.
“I doubt if it’ll be all that. Our families really don’t care for each other, but my arrangement with Gee-Gee keeps everybody at least civil.”
Swann shook his head. “I still can’t believe you got that sour old bastard to play nice. So you ever gonna tell me what went on in that meeting?”
“I’ve already told you, at least as much as you need to know. Trust me Swann, it’s better this way,” Shai said honestly. “Leave it at that.”
“You got it, boss.” Swann stood to leave. “So you gonna keep hiding in here reliving your past, or put your crown on and come embrace your future?”
“I’ll be along in a few.” Shai grabbed his autumn-colored tie from the arm of the chair and began looping it around his collar. “Keep the party going until I get there.”
“Well don’t take too long. I hear the guest of honor is getting antsy.”
Shai ran his hands over the five o’clock shadow growing over his cheeks and sighed. “When is she not? Her ass will be okay for a few more minutes.”
“If you say so, Slim. I’m a tough muthafucka, but I’d sooner take on one hundred Italians than an angry pregnant woman,” Swann capped before leaving Shai to his thoughts.
After Swann had left, Shai went to stand in front of the full-length wall mirror to finish tying his tie. As he stared at the image, he couldn’t help but to think how much different he looked than the gangly, doe-eyed kid who had carried N.C. State to the Division 1 tournament. He had put on ten pounds (mostly fat,) was sprouting the first signs of a beard on his cheeks and the youthful glint that once danced in his eyes was gone. The boy had become a man. Once he was satisfied with his appearance, he headed for the door. Before making his exit, he stopped short, eyes landing on a large oil painting that hung over the loveseat. It was a portrait of him, Poppa, Tommy and Hope. “Heavy is the head,” he whispered before slipping from the room.