Carl Weber's Kingpins Read online

  “You damn right you ain’t gonna hurt me, muthafucka!” Camilla bellowed.

  Camilla had been brought to tears, not because of what Kafis had done to her, but rather from how her daughter had chosen sides without even realizing it. For the past eight years, she had watched the little girl she’d carried for nine months and given birth to grow attached to her father and pull away from her. She had tried to be the best mother that she could possibly be, especially since she herself had never had a mother who cared for her, but from day one, Kafis had interrupted her parenting methods. When she told her daughter no, Kafis would go over her head and tell her yes. When she tried to reprimand her, Kafis would go behind her back and tell her not to worry. From the day Kafisa was brought home from the hospital, Kafis had let her have her way.

  In his eyes, she can do no wrong, Camilla thought as she wiped her face.

  She noticed her daughter staring at her. The look was so hateful that it caused Camilla to lose control. “You little bitch! Who you think you lookin’ at like that?” she shouted at Kafisa. “I’ll kill you in here, you little black-ass heifer! You mean nothing to me!”

  Kafisa’s eyes widened at the sound of her mother’s words. Her mother made her regret coming to her defense. She wished she had never stopped her father from choking her. Kafisa shot her mother a look that cut deep into Camilla’s heart. At that very moment, Kafisa decided that she hated her mother.

  “Go to your room, baby girl,” Kafis instructed Kafisa again.

  Kafisa did as she was told without a care about her mother’s fate.

  Once Kafis thought she was out of earshot and in her room, he started back up. “Yo, I don’t know what the fuck your problem is, but if you ever talk to my daughter like that, put yo’ hands on her, or threaten her again, you’ll be the one that’ll be dead up in this muthafucka. You hear me?” Kafis spoke with conviction in his tone. It was more of a promise than it was a threat.

  Camilla could see the rage in Kafis’s eyes. She thought better than to challenge him, but she was determined to address the issue that had caused her to put her hands on her daughter for the first time.

  “Yeah, I hear you, Kafis! But you want to know what the fuck my problem is? Huh?” she yelled, lashing out. “My problem is, you have our ten-year-old damn daughter in here countin’ your damn drug money, exposing her to all this shit, like it’s cute,” she began. “Did you ever stop to think what type of effect all of this will have on her in the future, Kafis? What do you think you are teaching our daughter? That it’s okay to have a man that sells drugs and has guns and money laying around his family? Is that what you want to teach her? So it’s okay for her to see all this shit you’re doing?”

  “You don’t know what the fuck you talkin’ about,” Kafis interjected dryly.

  Camilla rolled her eyes. “I sure do.” She wiped her face for a second time. “I watch how you are with her. I hear the things that you say to her, quotin’ those fake-ass rules of the streets and shit, but I haven’t heard you tell her that money is the root of all evil. I thought our reason for moving out of the ghetto and putting our daughter in private school was so she can have a better life than the one we had when we were kids. You still teaching her things with your ghetto mentality, though.” Camilla let out a light chuckle. “I guess it’s true when they say, ‘You can take the nigga out of the hood, but you can’t take the hood out of the nigga.’” She shook her head in disgust. “Kafis, our daughter is not from the streets. We are. That doesn’t mean that we have to instill them in her.”

  Kafisa listened to her mother as she hid behind the wall. She was surprised to hear some of the things she heard her mother say to her father. It was the first time she had heard her mother talk like that to him. From what her little ten-year-old mind could compute, based on what her mother was saying, Kafisa drew the conclusion that her dad was someone who made his money by selling drugs. This was something she was taught in school to stay away from, say no to, and she believed that drug dealers were bad guys.

  She didn’t want to believe her father was one of those people. After all, those kinds of people didn’t have a family. After hearing her mother refer to her father as one of those types of people, she knew that there had to be some type of exception to the rule, because her father was not a bad person. She had no idea about the lifestyle her father lived. Had Kafisa known, though, there was no doubt that she would have loved him just the same. She continued to listen as her father began to speak.

  “All that shit you talkin’, save it.” Kafis jumped closer toward her. “Don’t ever question my methods as a father or as a man. I know what the fuck’s best for my daughter.” His words were stern and uncompromising.

  “Nigga, please! You don’t know shit about raisin’ no damn kid, especially not no girl.” She rolled her eyes at Kafis and dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

  “I know I can do a better fuckin’ job than you,” Kafis shot back. He tore into Camilla like hot slugs. “You think I have her around all this shit because I want her to turn out like yo’ money-hungry ass? Not at all. I have her around it so she’ll be used to seeing it. So she won’t be impressed when she gets older by some nigga who pulls up on her in a new truck or coupe, flashing money in her face to manipulate her into whatever. You never had nobody to teach you about the power of the dollar. That’s why you don’t respect it,” Kafis said, pointing out Camilla’s shortcomings. “And that’s why you reckless when it comes to handlin’ it, and I would never let you run things as you want to.”

  He paused. “A lot of that is my fault, though, because I could’ve taught you, and I should’ve taught you, but I didn’t. My daughter, on the other hand, she’s going to know everything that I know. She ain’t gonna be no square. She’s going to be both book smart and street smart, the best of both worlds. Whatever she wants to do or be in life, she’ll be able to do. The choice will be hers, and hers alone, so don’t come at me with all this bullshit, ’cause I ain’t tryin’a hear it.”

  Camilla let out an insane laugh. “Save that shit for them other bitches that don’t know no better,” she snapped. “Just like her father, she ain’t gonna be shit if you raisin’ her!”

  Kafis shook his head. He couldn’t believe Camilla had just said that with a straight face about their daughter. It took all his strength not to wrap his hands around her thin neck and choke the life out of her. Instead, he went a different route. “If you don’t like the way I’m raising my daughter, then you can get the fuck out and take yo’ ass back to the projects, where you belong! If you can’t handle this life, then get off the muthafuckin’ pot, bitch!” Kafis told her. “Matter of fact, that’s exactly what your dumb ass gonna do.” He made Camilla’s decision for her without any compassion or empathy.

  A big lump formed in Camilla’s throat. She tried to clear it in an attempt to speak. This was not the first time Kafis had proposed that she return to her old neighborhood, the one he had moved her out of, when they got into an argument, but this time his words hurt her. He had made it perfectly clear numerous times before that he believed that without him, she would not be able to survive. He seemed to believe that she would feel the need to crawl and beg her way back into his world. For a while, she had believed this herself, but as her pride and her ego had grown stronger with the passage of time, she’d reached the conclusion that there was no truth in what Kafis Jackson implied. She was determined to prove him wrong.

  “Nigga, you think I need you? Tsk! Please! You ain’t make me, Kafis. If anything, I made you, Big Fis!” she said in a mocking tone, letting his street name drag. “Ain’t nobody know who you was until you started fuckin’ with me.” She chuckled. “You was just little dirty-ass Kafis from the projects. Now you done made a few dollars and think you the shit. Whatever! Nigga, it’s a million of you out there, and you best believe you can be replaced!” Camilla’s words were strong. As the words rolled off her tongue, it crossed her mind that she might regret them, but she was hurt a
nd was determined to say what she thought would hurt him. If it worked, she couldn’t tell, because Kafis had little, if any, reaction to what she had said. He just stood there, expressionless, as she went on, trying to convince him of her powers of self-preservation.

  Kafis had had an idea that Camilla felt this way, but he had ignored it because she was his child’s mother. Now, to actually hear her come out and say it to his face was a different story. Her words had pierced his heart like a poisonous dagger. There was no way that he was going to give her the satisfaction of knowing this. He remained calm.

  “I’m glad you told me all that. Now I’ll be able to sleep better at night when I put yo’ ass out and send you back to where I found you.” He knew he was officially done with Camilla. “By the time I leave here, you better be gone, or you ain’t gonna be able to go nowhere ever again!” Kafis told her. His tone had changed from calm to deadly. “Think I’m playing, then be here and see what happens.”

  Camilla was unfazed by his threat, thinking they were just having an overheated argument. “You ain’t said nothing. I’ll leave. Let me just pack my shit and get my daughter. Then you’ll never have to worry about hearing from us again!” she replied. She, too, was ready to put an end to what she knew had been stale for quite some time.

  Without blinking, Kafis corrected her. “You ain’t got shit to pack. Everything in this muthafucka I paid for. You don’t own shit in here. All you can do is call you a cab and tell ’em where to come pick you up at. As for my daughter, she ain’t goin’ nowhere! She stayin’ with me.” He let his words register in Camilla’s mind. The widening of her eyes let him know she had heard him loud and clear. “Like you said, she ain’t from the hood, so ain’t no need for her to go there,” Kafis added without a shift in his tone.

  You could see the tears forming in Camilla’s eyes all over again as Kafis’s words set in. In the midst of all that was going on and being said, she had never given any thought to the possibility that Kafis wouldn’t let her leave with their daughter. However, she was not surprised. She knew how he felt when it came to his daughter.

  Kafisa was in tears due to her parents’ argument, but she knew that there wasn’t anything she could do about it. She was not at all surprised by what her mother had said to her father, because she had heard Camilla on the phone many times, telling one of her girlfriends the same exact things, when her father wasn’t home. She was surprised to hear her mother say that she would leave and she was going to take her with her. There was no doubt in her mind that her father would never allow it. His words confirmed this, and she was relieved because she did not want to leave her dad. She continued to listen, curious as to what her mother’s response would be.

  “What? Kafis, you can’t be serious!” Camilla cried out.

  “As a heart attack,” Kafis replied. “My daughter is staying with me. She ain’t goin’ nowhere!”

  Camilla shook her head in disagreement. “I’m taking Kafisa with me one way or another,” she spat back, calling his bluff.

  Before she even knew what was happening or had a chance to react, Kafis’s backhand sent her crashing to the floor.“You better not ever threaten me in your muthafuckin’ life!” Kafis shouted. He stood over her, looking down at her. He knew what she was implying. “If the police even look at me funny, I’ll come and kill yo’ dumb ass, you hear me?”

  He pulled his .40 caliber out of his waistband and pointed it at Camilla’s head. Camilla held her hand up, as if she could actually prevent a bullet from penetrating her hand and going into her face if Kafis were to pull the trigger. His reputation preceded him in the streets, and although he had never gone to such extremes in their fights, she knew that Kafis was crazy enough to shoot her.

  “Fis, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean . . . ,” she said, starting to retract all that she had previously said.

  “Shut the fuck up! I don’t wanna hear that ‘I’m sorry’ bullshit. Just get up and get the fuck out my house. You better be thankful you Kafisa’s mother, ’cause on the strength of that, you still alive. Trust me, if you wasn’t, your ass would have been dealt with accordingly. Believe me!” He glanced down at his Rolex watch, then back at Camilla. “You got thirty minutes to get up outta this muthafucka,” he informed her.

  Without waiting for her to leave, he spun back around to make his way back to the kitchen. When he turned around suddenly to see what was happening behind his back, his heart began to melt. Kafisa stood there, in the middle of the living room, in tears. Realizing that he still had his gun out, Kafis tucked it behind his back, out of Kafisa’s view. He wondered how much she had seen or heard. The look in her eyes told it all. Instantly, shame overcame him at the thought of his daughter witnessing what had just taken place.

  “Kafisa, go to your room, like I asked you to do before. Daddy’ll be in there in a minute to talk to you.” It was all he could say to delay the inevitable conversation he would have to have with her so that she understood why he did what he did and said.

  Kafisa wiped her eyes. She looked over at her mother. Her eyes locked with Camilla’s pain-filled eyes. She knew she was the cause of her mother’s pain, but she didn’t care. She watched as a tear dropped out of her mother’s left eye. Kafisa broke her stare with her mother to avoid shedding her own tears. She then turned and made her way toward her bedroom.

  The yellow taxi pulled up in front of the luxurious Brooklyn home three minutes before the thirty minutes Kafis had given Camilla were over. Kafis was just finishing up counting and rubber banding the rest of the five-dollar bills when he saw Camilla walk toward the front door with nothing but the clothes on her back. He shook his head. Overall, he loved her, but he knew she was not healthy for him. He wondered if he had been too hard on her.

  Camilla stopped at the front door and looked back at him. He wanted to say something, but his pride would not allow him to. She had crossed the line and had said something that was a deal breaker for him. He could take and handle anything, but what he wouldn’t tolerate was someone threatening to send him to jail. Kafis strongly believed that anybody who could get another person locked up deliberately was not to be trusted. Because of his belief, he stuck to his guns. He stood and stared at Camilla in silence.

  Camilla let out a light chuckle and rolled her eyes. She turned and reached for the door handle. She, too, wanted to say something but couldn’t bring herself to do so. She wanted to apologize and beg for another chance. Instead, she opened the door, stepped outside, and closed the door behind her, then made a beeline for the taxi.

  She turned and took one last look at the place she had known as home for the past twelve years. So many memories, she thought. She peered up at Kafisa’s bedroom window. Her eyes instantly became misty. She saw Kafisa standing at her window, looking down at her. She waved and blew Kafisa a kiss for the last time.

  Kafisa had been waiting for her mother to come out of the house. As soon as she saw her, she began to weep. Her emotions were running wild. She was mad at her mother, but she loved her and didn’t want her to go. The thought of not knowing when she’d ever see her again saddened Kafisa. She wanted to open her window and cry out and tell Camilla not to go, but didn’t want her father to be mad at her. She watched as her mother climbed into the taxi. Kafisa could not hold back the flood of tears that threatened her eyes. As she watched the taxi disappear up the block, she realized that Camilla hadn’t even told her she loved her.

  As Camilla got into the taxi, she wondered when Kafis would tell her to come back. She knew that leaving her only child was wrong, but she had to stand her ground. Once the taxi was heading up the street, Camilla thought about making the taxi driver turn back, but she didn’t. Kafis needed to swallow his words and live with the fact that he had kicked out the mother of his child.

  She thought about how she would have to stay in the filthy projects until Kafis’s temper had cooled down enough for him to let her come back. Thinking back on her life in the projects, she realized that she had only bad me
mories: a mother who didn’t care about her whereabouts, a father she never knew, and the large number of her mother’s boyfriends who had had their way with her starting when she was age ten.

  Now she was going back to her mother’s house, but not by choice. She only hoped she still had a room there when she showed up. The last time she actually saw her mother, she was fifteen years old. When Camilla informed her mother back then of what those boyfriends had done to her, her mother kicked her out. Her mother thought that Camilla was the aggressor and that she had been trying to seduce her boyfriends to get special treats, which she often got because of their guilty feelings.

  Camilla hated to return empty-handed. She had no clothes, no money, not even a second pair of underwear. She only hoped her mother would take her back in.

  The taxi pulled up to Marcy Projects. “That will be twelve dollars, please,” the driver said as he turned his head to look at her.

  Camilla was calm, cool, and collected when she spoke. “I’ll be right back with the money.” Her hand was on the door handle.

  “Wait. Hold up. You didn’t have the fare when you got in here?” He instantly locked the doors.

  She contemplated telling the driver that she had just been kicked out of her home and ejected from her only child’s life. She looked at the dashboard, where pictures were posted of the driver’s family. Maybe he’ll understand, she thought. Camilla started to cry and told the driver her situation through her sobs. She didn’t know if it would work, but with him being a family man and all, she had fifty-fifty chance.

  “Do you believe in God?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she answered, not knowing where this question would lead.

  The driver stared at her and was silent for a few minutes. All that was heard was Camilla crying for a pass. “Go ahead,” he finally said. “One good deed will be paid by another, and hopefully, you’ll make God the first priority in your life so that you’ll have the strength to carry on. God bless you, young lady, for He is putting you through the ultimate test.”