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The look in his eyes didn’t change. He still felt nothing after the man’s kind words. As they say in Hollywood, the show must go on. The Kid had changed overnight, becoming something that Kip desperately wanted to keep him away from. As the streets would say—he was ’bout that life. It was a life where one couldn’t look weak. It was a life where your claws had to be the sharpest. And it was a life where you hoped for the best but prepared for the worst.
Devon lit a cigarette and smirked. These fools think something good is coming their way, he thought. He couldn’t believe that The Kid’s plan was coming to life. In a few hours, hopefully, these morons would be dead. Then they would have ample time to plot their revenge against Maserati Meek. It would be a sweet revenge because Meek wouldn’t see it coming.
“We got one hour. I don’t wanna be late there,” The Kid said.
Each man got dressed in tonight’s gear: red T-shirts, white denim jeans, and white Nikes. They were groomed to look exactly like The Kid and his men. The Kid nodded toward Devon, and he exited the room. Moments later, he brought in a wheelchair that was similar to Kid’s. Everything had to be perfect—in uniform.
Before the men left the Motel 6, The Kid pulled out his cell phone and instructed Devon to dial Eshon. Once again, he couldn’t look like he was in charge. Everything had to go through Devon. Eshon was across the river in a Brooklyn motel with the girls.
“Yo, what’s it lookin’ like on your end?” Devon asked.
“Copacetic, so far,” she replied.
“A’ight. We gonna meet up around ten,” he said.
The decoys were ready and looked right for tonight. From a distance, Jessica wouldn’t be able to tell them apart. The timing had to be right. Until the plan was to be executed, the decoys had to stay out of sight. Like the game of chess, each piece had a purpose.
***
Th
e VIP area at club Sane was decorated in floating red balloons, expensive champagne in ice buckets, and a black and silver banner with Kip’s name etched into it. The place was decorated as a memorial for the late Kip. Jessica had gone all out for the bash, knowing it was going to be her friends’ last night alive—like Custer’s last stand.
Sane was the place to be tonight: large dance floor, circular bar, popular DJ, and classy VIP. The revelers danced to hip-hop music as Jessica waited for the victims to show up wearing a sexy black and gold Chanel dress. The event had cost a pretty penny, but secretly Meek had paid for it all.
Everyone showed up at different times—within ten minutes apart. Devon, Papa John, Eshon, Brandy, and The Kid all made their grand entrances, and all seemed normal. They were escorted to their private area inside the club where champagne bottles were burst open and bubbly was poured into short-stemmed wine glasses.
“Yo, yo, I gotta give a shout out to Harlem’s E&J Brandy Bitches in the house,” the DJ announced through the microphone. “They are looking stunning tonight, and representing Kip Kane tonight. Rest in peace, Kip. You are missed.”
The announcement made Eshon smile, and it touched her heart that the DJ had recognized Kip tonight. She tried her best to hold back the tears. Eshon looked Jessica’s way and raised her glass, saying thank you. Although the party was a scam for their demise, for that split second, it felt special and real.
The Kid felt the moment too, missing his brother a great deal. But regardless of how special tonight felt, it was still all a lie. Kid made Devon strategically place four triggermen outside the venue, lying in wait for the big bang. How and when it would come, no one knew; that was why the decoys were placed secretly in reserve, waiting to play their roles. Devon and Papa John were carrying pistols, an extra precaution inside just in case Maserati Meek was crazy enough to try something inside the club. Club security turned a blind eye for a few hundred dollars.
The mood was upbeat, and the dance floor was crowded as the DJ blared hip-hop and R&B. The Kid had his eyes on Jessica, watching her every movement. She was constantly on her phone, talking and texting someone. He had an idea who. She was shuffling her deck, trying to play her cards right. The duration of the night went smoothly—drinks and music, women and dancing. The Kid refused to drink. He had to stay focused, watching everyone and everything from his wheelchair.
The 2 a.m. hour approached, and the party was still going strong. The DJ continued to shout out Kip’s and the girls’ names. He was being paid handsomely to do so by Jessica. Devon threw back a bottle of champagne and ground his body against a big-booty woman in a short black dress, enjoying the scenery with pussy on the brain. The Kid was somewhat displeased by his behavior. He couldn’t be the only one sharp tonight; their lives were on the line.
But Devon was going to be Devon—a horny thug. He wasn’t looking like leadership at the moment.
Papa John, too, was into the moment, throwing back shots and flirting with beautiful women. Had they forgotten that tonight was a setup—that their lives were on the line?
The Kid couldn’t expose himself by lifting himself from the wheelchair. A cripple he was, and a cripple he would remain as far as everyone knew.
The text from Jessica came to his phone out of the blue.
Not feeling too well, I need to leave. Catch you later.
She stood up. He looked her way and nodded. She strutted away coolly from the VIP area in her red bottoms. The Kid watched her walk away. This was it—something was going down, and she was removing herself from the line of fire.
The Kid had plans of his own. He got Devon’s attention; the man wasn’t too distracted from his duties.
Jessica gave the girls a hug goodbye, thinking it was going to be their final hug, and Devon was right behind her. Before she took her steps from the area, Devon was on her like white on rice. He grabbed that bitch from behind and jerked her arm back, skillfully thrusting his gun into her lower back. Through a tightened jaw he growled, “Bitch, you move wrong, and I’m gonna blow ya fuckin’ spine out.”
She had no choice but to comply.
Devon was itching to kill her. His blood boiled with rage as he escorted her down the long, narrow hallway leading to the back exit. Papa John went and snatched up Eshon and Brandy; it was time to leave. They knew it was going down. The Kid wheeled himself away too. No one around was any wiser to what was going on. The music played, the club moved, and enough money had been spread around to the right people to make it look like they owned the place.
The decoys had been waiting in a nearby room. There was food for them, but they were separated from the club. The girls were sitting impatiently; the men were becoming anxious. Everyone was eager for their payday and to get things started. The girls wanted to join the party. The DJ was getting busy, playing everything from “Bodak Yellow” to Rihanna’s “Wild Thoughts.”
