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“That’s it? No last name? No hints at a real first name?” I asked.
“That’s it. Now, why are you calling asking about him if you’re still not sure if he robbed you or not?”
“I have my reasons. Thanks, Marsh.” I ended the phone call and went back to digging. Google was no help because it kept kicking up news stories that weren’t helping. I needed to know where King lived or at least where he hung out at. I wanted to repay him for popping up on me today.
I poured over Instagram, Facebook, and Tik Tok for over an hour. I found the profiles of several men who claimed to run with the Legion of Kings but snooping on their profiles told me nothing. I was sure I’d hit a brick wall until I came across a Tik Tok profile named LL_LOKs. When I looked through his videos, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Various videos of women shaking their ass. Clips of him and some of his friends in the strip club. A few videos of his lame-ass music. One video of him at Darby Park.
I went through every video, clicking on the Darby Park video last. It was a Tik Tok of him and some other men hanging out at the park with a few girls. I watched them laughing and smoking a blunt between them but I could only see LL_LOKs face until the last second.
I played the video again and stretched my eyes as wide as possible so I could see everything. LL_LOKs had captioned the video, “My gang harder than yours. #Ganggang #LOKs” The video itself read “Link up. #FoundingKings #FourKings #Squad” In yellow letters that danced on the video.
At the tail end, I heard one of the girls giggle and say “Stop, King.” As she pulled away from one of the four headless men in the background. Four men robbed my bank. Even though I couldn’t see anyone’s face or head in the thirty-second video clip, I saw one guy who looked huge. That had to be masked man number two. The crazy one.
The guy the girl was pulling away from at the end could have been anybody. But the last second shot of his Jordan’s as the phone was lowered, let me know that King was indeed the asshole I was looking for.
I checked the date and saw the video was taken yesterday. When I watched it for the thousandth time, I noted the sky. It was sunset. I glanced out of the window and saw the sun getting ready to start its descent.
I kicked off my YSL heels, put on my Chuck’s, and headed out of the door. I sure hoped King Asshole was ready for me to read him for filth.
…
CHAPTER FIVE
The sun was setting in the sky and it lit up Darby Park in crazy shades of purple and pink. I only noticed because I was staring off into the distance thinking about how I could kill little mouthy-ass Jupiter. Seeing her today at Starbucks only happened kind of by accident.
I knew how close she worked to the bank and I saw the kind of designer shit she had on at work, Rodeo Drive was an obvious choice to look around for her. I didn’t expect to see her sitting outside at Starbucks though. I damn sure didn’t expect her to be fully tatted the way she was. It made sense now that she had on a blouse that covered her neck partially and hair that covered her neck as well. Her tattoos were fly as shit though. Definitely not jailhouse work. I wouldn’t expect anything else from her bougie ass though.
She knew exactly who I was and she knew I robbed that damn bank with my boys. I’d been expecting twelve to haul our asses off to jail any minute, but the day went on as normal.
“What’s happening?” An unfamiliar voice came from off to the side, cutting through my thoughts. I looked up to see some motherfucker we didn’t know approaching our spot on the basketball court. He was all smiles approaching me, Truck, Pretty Boy, and Sumo. All four of us exchanged glances and remained silent but ready.
“Y’all the four kings, right?” The guy asked, looking at each one of us.
“Kings?” Sumo said, playing dumb. “Get the fuck out of here, bro.”
“I’m TC, I know y’all lay low but I heard y'all like to hang out around the park and I wanted to…” I cut him off before he could finish his statement. I stood to my full height and took one long stride toward him, looking down.
“You wanted to carry your ass back across this court, TC. We’re not accepting new members.” Hurt and anger flickered across his expression and I didn’t give a fuck. His nostrils flared and he pushed out a short exhale.
“I just wanted a place to belong,” he said.
“Well, go register at the motherfucking YMCA. This ain’t your spot.” I thumped his chest with my big hand harder than I needed to but I had to get a point across to him. You didn’t walk up on the four kings talking about joining our gang. We were a brotherhood of bastards. Nothing about that was polite and encompassing. Now, if TC was referred to us by a lower-level King, it would have been different. But just rolling up on four motherfuckers who will kill you if given the chance, wasn’t a smart move.
“Damn, for real? It’s like that?” He scoffed his ego undoubtedly bruised. Truck stood and scratched his stomach beneath his black t-shirt, flashing the gun tucked at his waist.
“It’s like that. Last warning to get your ass from around here before things get loud,” Truck said, lowering his brows. TC looked at the gun and took heed to the message Truck was conveying with one last nod before silently walking away.
I slapped hands with Truck and we chuckled. “TC better TC his ass back to wherever he came from,” Truck said, shaking his head.
My face scrunched into a question mark. “What the fuck does that even mean, Truck?” I asked. He shrugged lazily then sat at the metal table, the vacant look seeping into his eyes again. Like I said, we didn’t keep Truck around for his smarts, but he was still my brother and I’d kill anyone for him.
I sat down, happy to have a reprieve from the annoying girl that insisted on invading my mind like a fucking pest.
Fuck.
I was thinking about her again. I had to figure out where she lived before she decided to talk. I rubbed my forehead and glanced at Pretty Boy ready to ask for his expert help when I saw a slender pair of hips swaying across the basketball court. The woman attached to those hips didn’t give a fuck about disrupting the ongoing game or the fact that she could have gotten smacked in the face with a basketball.
I recognized the gall before I recognized the face.
