Big L's Arc

Chapter 6 of 6

Big L's mother slept in the back room while the doctor packed his tools. Big L stood in the wide hall of the compound. The gate outside stayed shut. His men waited past the walls, engines running. Marcus Washington leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. Between them, in a chair by the wall, sat Dread. His son. The man Big L had beaten twice. Dread's dreads hung over his face. His hands were empty, but his eyes were not. "You want the name," Marcus said. "So does my boy. We hunt the same man now." Big L looked at Dread. "He tried to kill me tonight. Shot my mother instead." "I didn't aim for her," Dread said. His voice was low. He stood up slow. "Somebody paid me to break you. Fed me lies. Said you'd take everything I had." He spat on the floor. "They were right about that part." Marcus stepped between them. He was huge, and the hall felt smaller with him in it. "Enough. We shake on peace, we go find the man who lit this fire. All three of us walk out even." Big L held out a bundle of bills. Crisp twenties, banded tight. "Upfront. Same deal I gave Rob. You work with me, you eat with me." Dread looked at the cash. His jaw worked. For a second his hand reached out. Then it stopped. Something old and hard closed over his face. He could not shake the hand of the man who took his blocks. Not even to save his own skin. "Nah," Dread said. He turned away from the money. He turned his whole body away, toward the far wall, showing Big L his back. That was the mistake. A man does not turn his back in a room full of guns. Big L saw Dread's hand drop toward his waistband as he spun. Rob saw it too, from the mouth of the hall. Rob fired first. Then two of Big L's men in the doorway fired. The shots hit Dread across the shoulders and neck. He fell against the wall, slid down it, and left a red smear behind him. His gun never cleared his belt. He was dead before he touched the floor. The hall went silent. Marcus stared at his son on the ground. His hands shook once, then went still. Big L kept his own gun up, pointed at the old man. Rob covered the door. Outside, Big L's hundred waited. Marcus had a dozen men in the yard. If he moved, the compound turned into a grave for everyone. Marcus did not move. He knelt by Dread and closed the dead man's eyes. When he stood, his face was carved out of stone. "He turned his back on you," Marcus said. "In my house. That's on him." He wiped his hand on his pants. "I could kill you now. But your mother's in my back room, breathing because of my doctor. And the man who did this is still out there." Big L lowered his gun a little. "Then give me the name." Marcus told him. It was a supplier from two blocks over, a quiet man who sold to everyone and picked no side. He had wanted Dread and Big L to burn each other down so he could take both their corners cheap. He had fed Dread lies and Big L's rise had wrecked the plan. Big L took his crew and found the man that same night. There was no long fight. The supplier had counted on Dread and Big L killing each other. He never planned for them to learn his name together. Big L ended it fast and left him for the street to find. By morning the whole area belonged to Big L. Dread was gone. The man who pulled the strings was gone. Rob ran the corners and brought in more money than Dread ever had. Marcus kept his compound and his peace, bound to Big L by the debt of his mother's life and the shame of his son's death. Big L drove his mother home when she was strong enough. She held his hand the whole way and said nothing about the blood on his sleeve. He walked her into his grand house and sat her in the softest chair. Then he stood at the window and looked out at the blocks below. Every corner ran his product now. Every soldier answered to his name. Grown men crossed the street when they heard he was coming. He had wanted to be the most feared man on the streets where he grew up. He looked at the empty street and knew he was. There was no one left above him.