The King Of The South by Karrington Blake

Author:Karrington, Blake [Karrington, Blake]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Dynasty Publishing
Published: 2013-12-22T00:00:00+00:00

__________

King sat near the window of the food court. He could see Panama sitting in the black Sonoma truck. He had parked in the space near the doors, right next to the handicapped parking spaces. King knew that if Panama was visible, the rest of the crew was lurking somewhere less noticeable. Hiring Panama had been one of the best moves he could have made. Although expensive, Panama brought talent and loyalty to his team, something that many other kingpins didn’t have. Panama’s mother lived in Washington; she was the only thing or person that would make the man smile. Taking care of her was all he cared about. He would live on the streets under a bridge, as long as his mother lived well. Like King, Panama had lost his father, but he was not quite as lucky as King to have a stepfather who was a real dude. His mother had ended up with a broke ass African dude who liked to use her for boxing practice. He was Panama’s first kill.

King sipped his coffee and scanned the parking lot. He didn’t see any signs of the black Monte Carlo, but his instincts told him that some shit could still pop off.

He placed his ear buds in his ears and surfed his phone’s music library. Soon, Maxwell’s “Till the Cops Come Knocking” flowed into his ears. Music was the connection that he had to his father, and it always made him feel safe. It helped him clear his mind, and right now, he needed to be focused. The next few weeks would be critical. He had to move some weight from Miami to North Carolina. He also needed to obtain a new block for his business, not to mention the big concert that he had coming up. King was the owner of RK Entertainment Group. He was known for bringing the hottest Hip Hop and R&B acts to Charlotte, and his state of the art pre and postproduction music studio was a favorite among the local artists.

Listening to music with his father were some of King’s best memories. They had their deepest conversations while listening to The Isley Brothers, Earth Wind and Fire, and Reggie’s favorite, Frankie Beverly. King thought of how his father would ride around town with the windows down, some R&B playing, a bag of barbeque chips, and a cold bottle of grape soda. Just the two of them riding around on a hot summer day looking at pretty girls, and talking.

“Boy, ain’t nothing in this world that music can’t cure. You can make babies to it, drink to it, and at times take niggas out to it.”

Young King had nodded as he listened to his father.

King was twelve when his father had started letting him collect money from the trap houses. Learning the business from one of the biggest kingpins in the southeast had made him what he was today. He remembered thinking that nothing or no one could touch his father. Death is going to get everybody eventually, as he learned the hard way.

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