Page 3 of Kassir and Rebel (D-Ville Projects #2)

Kassir

As Niecy, my head barber, finishes my beard treatment, Makai, my newest barber working on Kassan, nods at me for approval. When I nod back, he places the slightly warm towel on Kassan’s face. My son wants to be just like me in every way.

“You’re going to have a beard like your daddy?” Niecy asks Kassan.

“Yeah,” he announces.

“He’s so cute,” she says before tapping my shoulder.

She’s done; so I sit up. When she unbuttons the cape from my neck and removes it, I stand and brush my hands down my shirt to catch any missed hair. Then I turn to the mirror and run my hand down my trimmed beard. As usual, Niecy hooked me up.

It’s Saturday and my barbershop Fadez is crowded as fuck.

Each chair is occupied. As the owner, I have a standing appointment with Niecy every other Saturday and she always gets me right.

She’s my only female barber in the shop and she’s the coldest I got.

Hiring her when I first opened Fadez two years ago was one of the best decisions I made.

Besides occasionally maintaining my own beard, I have no barbering skills.

Fadez was an investment, a means for legitimizing me and my money, and something I can build on. When I opened it, I had Kassan and needed something to pass on to him. I also needed something to pull me from the streets somewhat.

I don’t trust my shop, my lineup, or beard with no one else other than Niecy. She normally cuts Kassan too but she has to leave early today so I let the little DP, Makai, hook Kassan up. He’s fam, so I trust him.

“Thanks,” Niecy says when I hand her a bill.

This transaction, although smooth today, didn’t used to be this simple.

When she first started with me, her stubborn ass refused to take my money.

But I made it very clear that when services are rendered, payment is required, even for the boss.

It took a few months but she accepts my payments now without talking shit.

“That’s it, Lil K,” Makai says as he removes Kassan’s cape.

When Makai holds the large mirror in front of Kassan, he nods at his reflection then smiles. “Thank you,” he says before hopping off the chair.

“You good?” I ask.

“Yes, sir,” Kassan says.

“Then pay the man,” I tell him and he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet. Just like my pops did with me, I’m training him early on money.

“Is that Gucci?” Niecy asks with a grin when she notices Kassan’s wallet.

“It’s my wallet,” he says, then he looks up at me. “Which one?” he asks.

“The fifty-dollar bill,” I tell him and he pulls it out and hands it to Makai.

Makai accepts it then looks over to me. “Fam, that’s too much,” he says, shaking his head.

“Respect, but you earned that. Fam takes care of fam: besides, every nigga pays at Fadez,” I remind him.

“’Preciate it,” he says before dapping me up.

“You ready?” I ask Kassan and he nods.

“Yes, sir. We going to eat now?” he asks.

“Yeah, we can eat cause I’m hungry.”

“Me too, Daddy.”

We exit Fadez and walk to my ride. The shop is the last business in the plaza and I have a reserved parking spot right out front. As we step toward it, one of my little riders in DP, Mano, hops out of his Impala and steps to me.

“What up, Serious?” he says, calling me by my street name and in response, I quickly correct him because I shield my son from all of my street shit.

“Kassir,” I stress.

“My bad, fam. What’s up witcha?”

“I can’t call it. What’s up?”

“My pockets running low and I need some more white girl,” he says, speaking in code, trying to cop. As soon as the words fly out of his mouth, my hand is on his chest.

“Ay. I know you see my son,” I grit and he nods instead of opening his damn mouth. “No, I need to hear you say that shit.”

“My bad,” he utters.

“My bad you see him? Or my bad for approaching me about business in front of him?” I ask for clarity because every member of DP knows I don’t talk or handle business in the presence of my son, no exceptions.

“Both, fam. My bad. I’ll get with you some other time,” he says apologetically then steps back.

“Or maybe not.”

“I can respect that,” is all he says before walking back to his ride but I didn’t miss the little smugness on his face. Kassan being here is the only thing keeping me from slapping that shit off his face.

“What you want to eat?” I ask Kassan before opening the passenger door to my classic 2013 Mercedes-Benz G500 Cabriolet.

It only had eighteen thousand miles when I got it.

I kept the original wheels and black exterior but had my bruh Suleem redo the interior.

He owns Lampin’ in Lux and he hooked me up with all black everything, the leather interior and black, glossy, wood veneer trim.

“Pancakes,” he answers when I slide into my seat.

“At four o’clock? You want pancakes?” I ask.

“Yes and chicken.”

I swear if he could, Kassan would eat pancakes and chicken tenders all day, every day and his favorite place is Pancake House.

It’s a small hood diner not too far from here and their food is good as hell.

Breakfast is served all day but they do offer a limited regular menu.

So before pulling off, I log into the Munchies app and order his silver dollar pancakes and tenders and the meatloaf with mashed potatoes and green beans for me for pick up.

“Daddy, you gon’ give me some mo’ money? I only got two tens left.”

“You need more?”

“Yes, sir.”

“For what?”

“We going to the beach for PJ birthday,” he says, referring to one of his many little cousins.

Linnea’s family is big as shit and they all mostly live in South Carolina and Crescent Falls.

It’s just her and her older sister here in Diamond Falls.

My family is much smaller. Aside from my DP family, it’s just me and my moms. My pops died inside when I was ten.

Fuck cancer. He was doing a twenty-year bid for putting a nigga down who tried robbing and disrespecting him.

My moms is originally from Panama, and if it wasn’t for my pops being buried here, she would have moved back there. So, it’s just us.

“How much more do you need?” I ask Kassan as I turn onto Cambridge Road.

“I want my fifty dollars back,” he says and I just shake my head.

“I can do that, when we get to the crib though.”

At my words, he sits up, smiling. Then he pulls his iPad out of my middle console and starts to play one of his approved games.

Linnea and I monitor his iPad closely and he isn’t allowed to have it all the damn time either.

A few minutes into his game, he gets interrupted by a FaceTime and I see it’s my moms.

“Hey, Grandma,” he says when her beautiful chocolate face fills the screen.

“No, no. Hola, Abuelita,” she corrects him, speaking slowly.

Although she grew up here, looks like a Black American herself, and married a Black American, she’s a proud Panamanian and she’s adamant that me and Kassan know and speak her native language.

I’m actually fluent in Spanish but only a few people know that.

“Say it with me,” she coaxes and he does.

“Lo siento,” he says, apologizing for answering in English. He’s picking up on it really good. Whenever he’s with her, she only speaks Spanish. I’m not as dedicated as she is with it though.

She quickly lets him know that it’s okay. “Está bien, nieto.”

This phone call is all about Kassan and she doesn’t even acknowledge me as she compliments his haircut, asks him if I fed him, then asks when he’s coming to see her.

She’s crazy about my son and I love their relationship.

I always thought I had the greatest mom but she’s an even better grandmother.

“Cuida de mi nieto,” she finally says to me.

“I always take care of my son,” I counter and she smirks before ending the call.

I pull up to Pancake House and keep the engine running with the doors locked as I run in and grab our food. Kassan is so focused on the game I don’t think he realized I got out of the damn truck or even got back in. He notices when he smells the food though.

“We eating here, Daddy?” he asks.

“No, back at the crib. We’ll be there soon.”

Although I have a bag full of food, Kassan has to stop by Miss Chandra’s on the first floor for a snack.

She’s been the candy lady since I was a jit.

Store hours are nine to seven every day and her entire front room looks like a damn store with rolls of candy, chips, and snacks.

There’s even a glass door refrigerator filled with cold drinks for sale by the door.

When we approach her unit, two little girls are walking in, so we just walk in behind them.

The old head Mr. Price is sitting on the sofa watching TV and Miss Chandra is in the kitchen looking over the counter at her customers. She smiles when she sees me and her smile gets big as fuck when she sees Kassan.

“You brought my baby today?” she gushes before walking out of the kitchen. “You want your favorite?” she asks him.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says as she pulls him in for a hug.

“Go get you two bags,” she says and he practically runs to get those sour gummy worms. She turns to the girls who are by the chips. “They are two for a dollar,” she says as if we all don’t have her prices committed to memory. Then she steps to me. “She’s finally coming back home today,” she says.

“Who?” I question and she grins.

“Rebel,” she says and my damn heart skips a beat. “She just couldn’t miss my wedding. She surprised me and just called. She should be here soon,” she says, smiling even bigger.

Rebel, the only woman I’ve ever loved, is coming back and I’m speechless, standing here like a fucking simp. When she left me, she left every fucking body. None of us ain’t seen her in years.

“Do you have any blue Takis?” one of the girls asks, thankfully taking Miss Chandra’s focus from my stuck ass.

My Rebel. Damn. It’s been six years since I’ve seen her, and broke her heart.

“I got my candy,” Kassan says.

The two girls are at the small table behind the sofa checking out with Miss Chandra. I walk over, glance over their items, then hand Miss Chandra a twenty.

“That’s for them and his candy,” I say and the little girls squeal.

“Thank you,” they sing in unison.

“Neenee, get another bag of Takis,” one of them says.

“Come back to see Rebel. I’m sure she would love to see you,” Miss Chandra says and I just shake my head.

Her words can’t be further from the fucking truth.

The last time Rebel saw me, she had just found out Linnea was pregnant.

It wasn’t a good day. I’ll never forget the hurt in her eyes, and as much as I hated to see her leave, I knew she had to go.

She didn’t know it but leaving was the best thing for her to do.