No Home Training (7 page)

With two months past since the drought was in effect, things were still at a desperate stage for the brothers. The fact that Royce was now out of the picture and his team disbanded meant nothing to the amount of pressure by officials and lawmakers that was still on strong to stop any narcotics from entering their city and neighboring communities. Storm and O.T. alike had both been hauled off to the police station for questioning, but any small, minute evidence they had linking them to any crime was just speculation at best.

The only real other problem or inconvenience the brothers faced was Marco, who was still on the warpath trying to get some vigilante retaliation street justice for a drug battle that was buried with Royce. Although O.T. and Storm knew Marco was on the top of their list of fools that had to go to an early grave, negotiations still had to be made in Detroit so they could maintain the lifestyle that they wanted.

Landing safely at Detroit Metro Airport, Storm and Kenya claimed their luggage and headed to Hertz to rent a car for the short duration of their stay. Kenya had a lot of places she wanted to show Storm on his first visit to Motown and they needed their own transportation. With Kenya behind the wheel, the couple cruised down I-94 and were soon crossing into the city limits.

“Welcome to Detroit, huh?” Storm quickly read the green and white sign they passed. “As much killing that go on here, can't nobody feel welcome.”

“All right, boy! Don't be talking about my city!”

“I mean goddamn, Kenya, I ain't mad at you!” Storm laughed as he sat back observing all the blight that surrounded them every block they drove. “If I grew up in a city with all these casinos, a police department that ain't trying to catch a cold, let alone a criminal, crackheads stealing copper pipes in broad daylight pushing them in shopping carts and of course, a hip hop mayor who just got arrested and convicted, I'd be sticking up for my town too!”

“Forget you!” Kenya rolled her eyes amused at Storm's sarcastic remarks. “Dallas ain't much better!”

“I hear ya talking!” Storm laughed at the raggedy roads.

Checking into the hotel inside of the Motor City Casino, Kenya and Storm made love on top of the bed, not bothering to even pull back the covers. Hadn't shit changed for Kenya whose main agenda was to still trying to get pregnant. Time after time, nut after nut, she prayed Storm's seed was in her.

Taking a quick shower then getting dressed Kenya stood looking out the huge window toward downtown. Gazing at the cars flying past on the freeway she couldn't help but wonder how a chick from “the D” got caught up in the middle of so much foolishness. Nevertheless here she was, back in the town she happily left, trying to help her man survive in the game.

“You ready, babe, or what?”

“Yeah, let's roll.” Storm was anxious to see more of the city and of course meet Brother Rasul, who was preoccupied at the mosque. “I'm starving. Let's hit that all-ya-can-eat spot you been bragging about in this joint.”

Eating until they thought they'd both burst at the buffet, Kenya and Storm jumped in their rental and headed to the northwest side of town. Exiting onto Seven Mile from the Lodge Freeway they made a quick left, then another left onto Sussex Street, turning into Brother Rasul's modest bungalow-style home. Storm looked back in the driveway seeing a brand new car and a Ninja-style motorcycle parked near the deck. Making sure he was completely aware of his surroundings he low key glanced up noticing the security cameras inconspicuously placed at every point of entry.

This black man ain't messing around,
Storm thought as he and Kenya waited patiently on the front porch for the famous Brother Rasul who his girl idolized. Hearing all the deadbolt locks turn they were finally face to face.

“As-Salaam Alaikum.”

“Brother Rasul!” Kenya jumped up hugging her constant savior. “I missed you! I missed you!”

“How you doing, Brother?” Storm cordially greeted him as Kenya smiled from cheek to cheek.

“I'm good. How about yourself?”

Storm firmly shook his huge hand as he sized him up.
Damn, this nigga bigger than Boz!
“I'm well.”

“Come on in and have a seat.” Brother Rasul was cordial as he made sure they were comfortable. “How was your flight?” He directed his attention to Storm. “I hope it was not too much inconvenience on the trip.”

“It was good. I'm just glad to be here and finally meet you. Before we go any further, I want to thank you personally for your assistance concerning Javier.”

“Not a problem.” Brother Rasul was gracious. “As you can see considering the reason for your visit, I'd do anything for Kenya. Matter of fact, I know you two just got here, but I bet you're anxious to get down to business.”

Kenya excused herself going to pick up a carryout order from a Jamaican restaurant nearby giving the men a chance to talk. By the time she returned with Brother Rasul's lunch, which consisted of goat and stewed vegetables, the deal had been struck and all was well. Spending a few more hours reminiscing about their past and who was doing what, Kenya and Storm said their good-byes and left for the evening.

Brother Rasul had carefully grilled Storm about his business dealings as well as his personal life. He always felt that if a man couldn't take care of his household, he certainly couldn't maintain any other business outside of that. But finding out Storm was willing to step up and take care of his responsibilities as far as with his and London's child and still seemed to love and care for Kenya made all the difference. Despite opposition from Fatima for helping Kenya, he was confident he was making the right decision. So while eating his food that had to be warmed up, Brother Rasul sat at his table figuring out which one of his immediate trusted associates would be the direct pipeline for Kenya's man.