Page 3 of A Kingpin’s Weakness

I looked around the waiting room. The walls were dull, the air stale, and the quiet buzz of overhead lights did nothing to settle the knot in my stomach.

I had always been a good girl growing up.

I kept my head in the books and eyes on the exit plan.

I stayed away from the life my mom lived, and even further away from the men she let into it.

I kept my distance, built my world out of schoolwork and silence, thinking if I stayed clean long enough, none of it would touch me.

But standing here now, in this waiting area, I wasn’t blind.

I knew exactly what was going on. And no matter how many books I buried myself in, no matter how far I thought I’d gotten, the mess always had a way of finding me.

My baby brother had been shot in an abandoned warehouse and left for dead on the west side.

Ronnie showed up casket sharp, like this was business.

Like grief had a dress code. He stood there in his oversized department store suit, smelling like Old Spice and old deals, calm as ever.

His muscle stood at his side, arms crossed tight, watching us with that stone faced calm that only came before violence.

They were the kind of men who didn’t blink unless it meant something.

Ready to step in at the slightest sign of a problem.

And then there were the others. The stranger from earlier and his boys sat in the back, quiet but not unaware. Unbothered, almost bored but you could tell. They knew everything. They were watching all of it.

They weren’t like us. They didn’t have family in this hospital clinging to life or waiting for discharge papers.

They were here for Noah. And something told me they weren’t just waiting to see if he made it.

They were waiting for answers. And they’d expect them the second Noah opened his eyes if he ever did.

“What the fuck is going on?”

My voice came out sharper than I expected, slicing through the thick air of the waiting room. I was looking between Jo and Ronnie like one of them owed me the truth and fast.

I stepped in closer. “And don’t bullshit me, Jo.”

She didn’t say anything right away. Just glanced sideways at Ronnie like she was checking if it was okay to speak. He didn’t flinch, just folded his arms and looked past me like I wasn’t even there.

Jo let out a sigh. One of those tired, practiced exhales she always used when she knew she had to tell the truth. She grabbed my arm gently, pulled me off to the side like we were about to talk about purses and shoes instead of blood and bullets.

“Noah works for Ronnie,” she said low, eyes darting around the room. “He was doing a job for him. Trying to prove himself.”

My stomach dropped, but I didn’t say anything. Not yet.

“Now the boy done went and got himself shot,” she continued. “No drugs on him. No money. Nothing to show for it.” She shook her head like this was some bad report card and not her son bleeding out in a warehouse alone.

“I stayed telling that boy,” she muttered, “watch your back at all times. Keep your piece on you. This world don’t play fair.”

I stared at her. My mom, the woman who let the world chew her up and now acted like she’d earned a front-row seat to watch it happen to her kids. Noah had been trying to survive. And now I had to figure out who he was really trying to survive for.

“Jo, you sound like a dumbass fuck right now.” I wasn’t holding back. I looked her straight in the eye. “I know Sweetie always said you were different, but are you slow?”

Her silence said more than words ever could.

“Noah’s seventeen. Seventeen!” I yelled, louder than I wanted but who gave a fuck I was pissed. “And you actually encouraged him to get involved with this low-life motherfucker?”

Ronnie started to walk closer to me, slow and deliberate like he was trying to own the room. RJ stepped in front of me, trying to block his path.

“Naw, RJ, I got this,” I said, voice steady. “I’ve been around fuck niggas like Ronnie all my life.”

Ronnie’s eyes locked onto mine, cold as ice. “Watch your mouth, little girl,” he said. “I’ve shown you grace out of respect for your moms.”

For the first time today, a smile cracked across my face; part disbelief, part challenge. “You’ve shown me grace?” I asked, laughing at the idea.

RJ reached for me, trying to pull me away. “Let’s just go over here,” he said, but I wasn’t done yet.

“No, fuck that. Ronnie, you’ve shown me nothing but how much of a fuck nigga, a pussy nigga…

oh, and a bitch ass nigga you are.” My voice was fierce, no filter, no holding back.

I stood my ground, eyes locked on his, because my brother’s life was on the line and I wasn’t about to let this man disrespect me.

And there it was—the devil stepping into the room.

I’d seen this face on plenty of men over the years, growing up with Jo. The kind who thought a woman should never raise her voice at a man. The ones who believed women were meant to be seen and not heard.

Ronnie’s eyes darkened. His hand rose slowly and deliberate like a warning, like he was about to strike.

He was ready to put me in my place for talking to him like that, for embarrassing him in front of everyone.

But I didn’t flinch. Because no matter how many times I’d seen that look, no matter how many times it scared the hell out of me, I wasn’t backing down this time.

“Fall the fuck back.”

The voice was calm but sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife.

I looked up to see the guy from earlier stepping forward, standing between Ronnie and me.

His eyes were hard now, no longer welcoming, no trace of a smile.

RJ grabbed my arm and pulled me back, like he wasn’t sure what was about to go down but damn sure he didn’t want me caught in the middle.

The air was thick, heavy with danger, and I knew this wasn’t over.

“This little girl needs to learn her place,” Ronnie said, but he didn’t move past the stranger who stood like a barrier between us.

I stepped forward, needing him to hear every word I was about to spit out. “Let me guess, Ronnie you're gonna be the one to show me?”

His eyes narrowed, and with a slow, cold voice, he said, “I can.”

“You know, Ronnie, grace would’ve been to just continue fucking on Jo and not get her son to do your dirty work.

Grace would’ve been encouraging Noah to finish school and be a successful Black man instead of pulling him into a world you knew only landed you in jail or the grave.

That would’ve been grace. Grace would’ve been continuing to sit your old ass down and staying out of family business because let’s be real, if your money or drugs don’t show up that grace shit goes out the window. ”

“Tell me, Jo,” I said, turning to face my mother. My voice was steady, but my hands were shaking. “How much is your son’s life worth right now?” Tears slipped down my face before I even realized I was crying.

I had failed Noah. Should I have stayed closer?

Should I have just stayed down here instead of running so far from home from her, from everything?

I’d been so caught up in trying to escape my past, I didn’t see that I was leaving my brother behind in the middle of it.

I swore I’d always protect him, always put him first. And yet, I’d been putting him last without even realizing it.

“$120,000,” Jo said flatly.

I blinked. Then I laughed a hollow, bitter sound that didn’t belong in a hospital waiting room. She really gave me a number.

“You asked,” was all she said, like it was that simple.

I just shook my head. And walked away. Because if I didn’t, I might’ve said something I’d never be able to take back.

“Stormi.”

My mother’s voice rang out behind me, sharp and deliberate—loud enough to stop me in my tracks.

RJ and I both turned, slowly, instinctively, like we already knew whatever came next wasn’t going to be good.

She stood there like she had something important to say, chin lifted, eyes locked on mine with that same smug look she always wore when she was about to cause damage.

And right behind her five men. Five silent witnesses to whatever storm Jo were about to unleash. RJ shifted slightly beside me, like he was bracing for it too. And I could already feel the heat rising in my chest.

“You think because you got a career, you better than everybody else?” Jo’s voice rang out loud and sharp. “Noah is my son. You want a child to raise so bad? Open them thick-ass thighs and let a nigga beat it up.”

She paused, long enough for the words to land.

“Oh, I forgot. Stormi scared. Still a virgin, right? That’s why she don’t know how to respect a man when he’s in her presence.”

The room went quiet, thick with judgment, amusement, and shock.

She always did this. Always dragged my personal life into the street like it was trash she couldn’t wait to dump in front of an audience.

I never understood her obsession with my virginity, why it bothered her so much that I hadn’t given myself to anyone yet.

Like sex was the badge of honor that made her feel superior, and my choice not to do it was some kind of personal attack.

She swore if I just got “a piece of something”, I’d finally get her. Like her pain, her choices, her chaos would all suddenly make sense.

But I had seen men. I had seen them lie, manipulate, take up space without giving anything back. The kind of men Jo let into our lives they didn’t love, they conquered. Not saying all men were like that. But most of the ones she trusted? They followed the same blueprint.

I wasn’t religious. I wasn’t waiting for a fairy tale.

I just wanted the first person I gave my body to, to actually see me .

Because soul ties are real. And I wasn’t about to be bonded to somebody just because I was lonely, curious, or trying to prove I wasn’t scared.

Jo didn’t get that. She never would. And honestly? I was done explaining.