Page 15 of Heavy Is The Crown

Jay-1 didn’t answer right away. He just clicked his tongue, tapping his fingers against the wheel in thought.

“I doubt it. That ain’t really K9’s style.” He flicked a glance toward Kenyatta. “You know how he move. If he wanted you out the way, you wouldn’t see it coming. Wouldn’t be no sloppy-ass ambush. It’d be clean.”

Kenyatta knew that fact all too well. It was rumored that K9 was behind his set-up that had him gone for seven years.

Kenyatta didn’t respond, but he wasn’t about to put shit past K9. But if this wasn’t K9’s doing, he was going to hear about it. Best believe K9 heard about everything.

Kenyatta inhaled deep, exhaling slow. He wasn’t about to sit there breaking down theories, because at the end of the day, the one thing he knew for certain was that he had just dodged some real shit tonight.

And if K9’s name was even floating near this situation, he needed to make sure his name wasn’t attached to it.

And he meant it. The streets used to be in his veins, his lifeline. But now they felt like a noose tightening around his neck.

Jay-1 was his boy, but this shit was beyond reckless. This was the kind of shit that got people buried or behind bars. And he had a daughter to think about. A future. A way out that he was barely holding onto as it was.

Kenyatta exhaled, shaking his head. “Take me home.”

Jay-1 hesitated, gripping the wheel like he wanted to convince him otherwise. Like he was waiting on Kenyatta to crack, to remember who he used to be. But Kenyatta wasn’t that man anymore.

One look at his face, and Jay-1 knew better.

Without another word, he put the car in drive and pulled out of the lot, merging onto the main road. Kenyatta stared out the window as the city blurred past him, except this time, it didn’t look tempting.

It looked like a whole ass trap.

But just as the tension in his chest started to settle, Jay-1 cursed under his breath. Red and blue lights cut through the night in the rearview mirror.

“Shit. They looking for us.”

Kenyatta’s heart slammed against his ribs as Jay-1 flicked off the headlights and made a sharp right onto a side street, cutting through an alley. The scanner from Jay-1’s burner phone crackled to life, static breaking over the voices.

“All units be advised, suspect vehicle—black BMW—last seen heading westbound off Maynard. Proceed with caution.”

Jay-1’s car.

Kenyatta’s stomach dropped. He knew how this played out. It was never just a traffic stop. Not for them. Not for two Black men in the middle of the night in a car that already had eyes on it.

“You gotta get me outta this car, bruh,” Kenyatta said lowly, his voice steady but urgent.

Jay-1 gritted his teeth, swerving onto another street. “Hold tight.”

Sirens wailed in the distance, but Jay-1 knew these streets like the back of his hand. He cut through an industrial block, looping around before hitting the main road again. The sirens faded behind them, but neither of them relaxed.

Kenyatta ran a hand down his face, heart still pounding. He had to get out.

Now.

Up ahead, a gas station came into view, neon lights flickering under the night sky. His only out. “Drop me here.”

Jay-1 hesitated. “You sure?”

“Now, nigga.”

Jay-1 jerked the wheel, pulling into the lot. Kenyatta wasted no time, throwing open the door and stepping out. The moment the night air hit him, he knew this was it. A breaking point.

Jay-1 didn’t say anything. Didn’t apologize. He just gave him a long look before peeling out of the lot, disappearing into the night.

Kenyatta exhaled, rolling the tension out of his shoulders. He was done with this shit. For real this time. But just as he turned to head inside, the familiar flash of red and blue caught his eye.

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