“Soon as I raise my brows at him, I want you to get the fuck up and stomp a hole in Benny’s ass.” Pops snapped me back into reality with the sound of his deep rugged voice.
My hands became sweaty as I thought of a good enough excuse to give to get out of what Pops just ordered me to do.
“He ain’t just stealing from me, Kenric. He’s stealing from us, your momma included. What did I say about thieves?” He raised his brows.
I swallowed down hard; my throat went dry. I’ve seen firsthand what he did to men that even looked at him funny.One shot to the head, chest, and dick. I could only imagine how Pops would handle Benny…unless…he expected for me to kill him now. My blood ran cold from the mere thought of having to kill someone.
“You…you kill them.” I answered.
“Absolutely. Benny ain’t got no good enough reason to be shorting me every week. He makes good money because of me. All I want you to do is put hands on him. Ya momma keep saying that your mental is off from what them bitch ass doctors keep telling her. I don’t believe it, and you shouldn’t either. There will come a time when you will kill Kenric. It comes with making sure muthafucka’s know how the fuck you coming any time they think it’s cool to disrespect you. Today, you’ll only fight for your respect.” He said.
My chest tightened; I cleared my throat, but my voice still came out small.
“I’m too small compared to him, that ain’t no fair fight.” I shook my head looking over at my pops. He still had his eyes glued on Irine.
The car went silent. Pops cut his dark eyes towards me and leaned in close enough until I smelled his breath.
“Fear gone make you small forever. You let that shit live inside you, you’ll always think you ain’t enough. You’ll fuck around and be waiting for somebody else to save you instead of saving yourself.” He gritted out, grinding his teeth.
“A man doesn’t wait. You make Benny bow, no matter how big he is. Don’t ever let me hear you say shit else about being too small. I don’t even want to hear no excuses next time I tell you that it’s time to put in work. You my son, I love you. I might not say it much, but I do. I’m teaching you how to never go hungry. How to properly rule. My father ain’t teach me shit, I figured it all out on my own, so that came with being starved.”
I nodded my head vigorously, trying my hardest not to cry. Pops snatched my chin, forcing my eyes up to his. I saw the disappointment in his eyes. I hated that look from him. I wanted to make him proud of me, wanted him to just accept me for who I was instead of who he imagined me to be.
“You gone let him take food out you and your momma’s mouth, clothes off your back? You ready to allow him to sit in your face fake counting money to make you believe everything is all good when it ain’t?” He frowned.
I stopped my lip from trembling by biting down on it. The metallic taste of my own blood didn’t do enough to make me feel somewhat better about what was being placed on me to do.
“You my son.” He growled out, releasing my chin. He stated that fact like it was an affirmation, like it should have been enough of a statement to boost my confidence in fighting a grown man.
“My blood doesn’t run from nobody. You gone go in there, look that man in the eyes. When I raise my brows…you swing on Benny like the world depends on it. Cause it do. You not just fighting for me. You fight for you. If you don’t do what I just said, then I’ll beat yo lil ass until I’m ready to get high again.” He said the words sinisterly. Promise shined in his dark orbs.
I believed every bit of his promise to beat me until he ran out of breath. Pops would work himself up, only to hit his pipe then rejuvenate his energy then go again at me.
“Yes sir.” I nodded slowly.
My heart pounded so hard I thought it might burst from my chest.
“Now,” Pops said, his tone final like a gavel slamming down. “It’s time to show me you a man.” He got out of the car then slammed the door behind him.
My fingers curled into fists, as my Pops words dug deeper. I wasn’t just scared of beating up a grown man, I was scared ofdisappointing Pops. Fire inside of me ignited soon as I opened the door to Pops car. I walked with my head held high, killing off whatever fear I felt inside.
The moment I stepped inside, all eyes fell on me then Pops. The air was thick, it smelled like sweat, smoke, money, and damp wood mixed together. Music thumped low from a speaker in the corner, it didn’t drown out the steady flip flap sound of money being counted.
My eyes landed on the big folding table right in the middle of the living room area. The table was stained and scarred with weed stains and cigarette burns. Stacks of cash were spread across the table in neat towers. The bills looked endless, like it would take them until nightfall to finish counting. That never was the case because everybody moved fast in the presence of Pops.
“Boss man.” Rosco spoke from his seat.
Pops nodded his head without looking at over at Rosco. His main focus was his money, then Benny. I watched Pops closely with the rhythm to my heart being thrown off. My anxiety was getting the best of me; I had to watch him to see when his brows rose. I also had to watch the men inside of this room because I was Pops second set of eyes like he always stated.
The men around the table sat in cheap plastic chairs that was used at cookouts. Their faces were hard, as they focused thumbing through all the bills. You could tell that all of them made good money. Some of them showed their wealth by the gold watches, rings, and expensive gold chains that rested on their chest.
My gaze shifted to the corners of the room. Men whom my father called his personal shooters leaned casually against the walls. Their bodies were still but their eyes constantly moved. They watched everyone in the center of the room, each one of them had a gun in their hand. By the front door, two more menstood stiffly their hands rested on their waist. Their presence made my skin crawl; I’ve watched them in action commit deadly crimes at my Pops demand.
My Pops stepped closer to the table like he owned the oxygen that circulated inside. I saw crackheads that looked weak, and needy. My father was the total opposite. His presence alone was a reminder that everyone had the ability to breathe because of him. They feared him in so many ways, and it wasn’t his height, or black eyes. It was the fear of not knowing his sudden movements, they never knew his next move. The fear of him having the ability to stop the food that fed their families enforced their loyalty to him.
His heavy boots thudded heavily against the floorboards, each step he took was with purpose. I saw his men straighten their posture; they counted the money with more precision. Pops eyes landed on Benny.
Benny was big and sloppy. His dark skin was scarred with acne; he never cared about his appearance or his body odor either. Benny didn’t look up from the pile of money in front of him. His eyes gleamed with greed as he ran his hands over a stack before picking it up.
