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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?”
