Little Layer's Arc

Chapter 2 of 7

The forty men drilled in the yard behind the big house while Little Layer counted the last of Big L's cash. Rob leaned on the porch rail, watching both. Layer's hands shook over the bundled bills. Forty men and no name to point them at. He didn't know who ambushed Big L. Until he did, the crew was just steel with nowhere to swing. Then a memory surfaced, cold and sharp. A face from years back. A kid from the old block who fought anyone, bled easy, cried less. Layer's own brother, gone since they were young. He remembered the name now. Jason Knee. He crossed the yard to Rob. "You know a man called Jason Knee?" Rob dropped his bottle. It cracked on the concrete. The huge man's face went pale under his beard. For the first time, Layer saw fear in those scarred eyes. "Don't say that name out here," Rob said low. "Jason Knee runs the muscle two blocks over. Biggest, meanest thing on these streets. I've buried men who crossed him. I don't cross him." "He's my brother," Layer said. Rob stared. "Then God help you, money kid. Because Jason Knee is the one who put six in Big L." The yard seemed to tilt. Layer's stomach turned to ice. His own blood had gunned down the man he swore to avenge. He gripped the cash stack so hard the band bit his palm. "How you know that?" "Everybody knows," Rob said. "The block two over wanted L's corners. Jason took the job. He don't miss." Layer's mind ran fast. His brother was the enemy. The one thing that could stop his crew from fighting was the one thing driving him to fight. He pulled a thick bundle from the stack and pressed it into Rob's chest. "Set a meet," Layer said. "Me and Jason. Face to face." Rob shoved the money back. "No. Not for triple that. You walk to Jason Knee, you don't walk back. I keep my forty men on these corners. I don't march them to their graves." Layer heard the leash tighten. Rob owned the crew. Rob decided where it moved. And Rob would never point it at Jason. So Layer chose. He left the men in the yard. He tucked one photo of Big L in his pocket, bloody and torn, and he walked out the gate alone. Behind him, the guard dog rose and watched through the fence, blue eyes tracking him to the street. Rob called his name once. Layer didn't turn. He had an army he couldn't use and a brother he had to face. The corners went quiet as he walked. Somewhere two blocks over, the man who killed Big L was waiting. Layer meant to find him.