Young Kingpin by Bronchey Battle

Author:Bronchey Battle [Battle, Bronchey]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: United States, Urban, African American, Genre Fiction, Literature & Fiction
Amazon: B007GCDVLK
Published: 2012-03-01T05:00:00+00:00

When I woke up, we were landing. I kept having dreams of my Mom and guilt was laying heavy on my heart as I felt that the life I lived ultimately led to her death. I didn’t know what her cause of death was, but something was nagging at me that I couldn’t shake.

I was the first person off the plane. As soon as I got off I called Kairo to pick me up. It was nine o’clock in the morning and I was ready to go face my Mother.

Kairo’s candy purple Camaro SS pulled about fifteen minutes after I called him. Hopping in the passenger seat, an uncomfortable silence fell upon us as he drove me to my Mom’s house.

“Thanks for letting me know what was up about Moms.”

“You know I got you bro.”

“Do… do you know how she died?” A tear slid down my face as I tried to keep the water works at bay.

“It appeared to be a drug overdose.”

“I knew it.”

“Nah let me finish.” He said, cutting me off. “Moms had gotten clean about a year ago, shortly after you left, and I don’t think she relapses.” He revealed.

“What you mean she got clean?” She never told me she got clean!”

“She wanted to show you in person. Moms got clean and had been waiting for you to return to show you. Whatever argument y’all had about her being on that shit pinched a nerve and made her quit that shit.”

I stayed silent, sulking it all in. My mind was in a million and one places as I tried to figure out what Kairo was trying to tell me. “So you think somebody did something to my Mom?”

“Yeah man.”

Blind rage took over my body when he answered me. The thought of someone harming my Mother had me seeing red. My trigger finger was itching and I was ready to put my murder game down.

Finally pulling up to My Mom’s house, I hopped out of the car. The neighborhood looked exactly the same from when I use to live there. Niggas standing on the corners trying to make a living as the local hood rats paraded up and down the streets. Using my key to the house, I walked into what looked like a new home. The entire place had been completely changed. The raggedy furniture we use to have was replaced by a three-piece peanut butter couch set. The once tattered brown floor with cigarette burns had been replaced by an off-white colored carpet.

The usual smell of cigarette smoke no longer lingered in the air of the apartment. Walking into her bedroom, I took a look around. She had also upgraded her bedroom. Taking a look around, I began snooping through her belongings. I needed a clue as to what may have contributed to her death. While looking through her bedside dresser the sound of Kairo calling my name from the living-room caught my attention.

Joining him in the living-room, he was holding a piece of paper in his hands.

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