Root of Inheritance

‘All empires are created of blood and fire.’ Let me expound with a story about a nine-year-old boy who was walking home with two little girls from school. As they were walking through their neighborhood, the children heard gunshots. Instinctually, they stopped in their tracks and ducked close to a black sedan in front of their apartment building. Seconds after, a sweltering man scurried from behind the building waving a gun in his hand. The man saw the three children laying low, so he ran towards them.

"Drop the gun" echoed through the neighborhood. In a panic, the man snatched the little boy and pointed the gun to the boy's head to buy a little more time. Simultaneously, a squad of men and women with bullet proof vests emerged and surrounded them. The girls were dumbfounded. They recognized the man, but the boy had not yet. In a stern voice, the prideful man said, "I love you; I'm sorry." The boy's heart stopped and so did his tears. He looked up to see his father. Amongst the calamity, his father felt the sun shining on them, and he briefly basked in it. Rapidly, he shoved his son away from him towards the ground and raised his gun. The boy stayed on the ground as bullets jetted toward his father. The boy fearfully stayed close to the ground crying hysterically. "Hold your fire! Dammit hold your fire," yelled the leading DEA special agent.

Suddenly, the boy heard a childlike scream. He rose frantically to a slightly seated position completely unharmed to see two horrific sights. His father was a hole-filled corpse covered in blood. A few steps away was another lifeless man serving as a human shield over the girls. They were devastated and crying over this other man in disbelief. A split second before gunfire exploded, he dashed to rescue his daughters. He had observed everything from the side in trepidation.

My grandfather was a drug-kingpin in "Rawvera.'' I found this little black notebook in pop's old tool shed yesterday, and I went through it intensively. It, seemingly, belonged to grandpa who was very clever. Ironically, he was a beloved family man. His notebook listed the names of the people he did business with and their loved ones. Grandpa noted "keep a close eye on DC.” Dominic from Carol City worked as a Miami plug for grandpa, but grandpa worried he’d be a stool pigeon that would sing under pressure.

Apparently, DC dedicated his life to Islam. He wanted out of trafficking in order to follow the teachings of the honorable Elijah Muhammad. Additionally, he wanted grandpa to follow suit, but the feds were watching grandpa and DC for months. I thought pops told me that dismal story because he just wanted me to know my roots. However, he wasn’t telling me the story because it was about the boy. DC had two daughters. That story is about mom.

As fate would have it, they ran into each other 22 years ago on the campus that sits on the highest of seven hills. Amari indulged in her favorite morning delight, a caramel frappe that she grabbed before she headed to the “Set." On Fridays, the Set was the hot spot where all the college students throughout Tallahassee would hang out, entertain and network during the afternoon. However, Amari was not there for the social scene. She sat tucked away from the epicenter with dark sunglasses over her eyes on a low retaining brick wall under a tree. Even though she attempted to avoid attention, her beauty was magnetic. Several admirers attempted to talk to her. Without hesitation, she dismissed them all. "Not interested," she said impassively to each one as she avoided eye contact. Finally, a man with a different agenda approached her. He sat perpendicular to her. She asked assertively, "Do you have my money?” “Dang, you're straight to the point sweetheart," he joked nervously. She remained apathetic.

Like many others, he assumed the alarming things he heard about this beautiful lady couldn't be true. He answered, "Alright, here's your bag. Where's mine?” She handed him a plain white envelope. "There's instructions in there on how to get it," she explained. "Hold up, you're sending me on a scavenger hunt. You're trying to play me," he mentioned aggressively then slammed the envelope down on the brick wall. She sighed softly and gracefully stood up. "Are you doubting me?" She calmly asked. He turned his head to see her standing facing him. She gripped something in her sweater pocket. In a brisk motion towards him, she gestured threat was in her pocket. He innately swallowed his tongue. She pulled out a piece of gum and smirked. He realized this woman's reputation preceded her after all. While she may be younger and prettier than his other clients, her unique presence was very intimidating.

Amari pulled her sunglasses above her head and strutted down the Set into the crowd like she was parting the Red Sea. The man stood up with the envelope in his hand, cleared his throat and walked the opposite direction. As she was approaching her car, an athletically built man rushed towards her calling out, "Kamaria!" She thought the worst; “someone recognizes me,” so she paced faster to her car. "Kamaria!" He shouted again while panting. She turned around slowly to see this tall, attractive yet familiar young man. For a second, she had a flashback of her recurring nightmare of a memory. She asked nostalgically, "Aiden?" He went to hug her, but she stood half-hearted.

"I recognized those eyes and your beautiful skin anywhere; it’s a small world," Aiden huffed as he was catching his breath. "Amari, I go by Amari," she announced stoically. Aiden stared at her for a second feeling empathy. "It's been a minute since I last saw you," Aiden responded. "Yea," she rebutted then turned her back to him. Aiden swiftly rushed behind her ear and whispered, "Please, Kamaria." Amari elbowed Aiden in his gut and proclaimed resentfully, "My name is Amari fool!"

While he stomached his bruised ego, Amari noticed people watching, so she lowered her glasses to cover her eyes. "No offense, but Kamaria was my dawg; I loved her," uttered Aiden. Amari laughed out, "Boy, please, we were kids; you didn't love me." Slowly, he walked up to her and disclosed, "Ahh! That's where you're wrong. You were as gorgeous then as you are now." Overwhelmed by Aiden's daring personality and strong resemblance to his father, Amari revealed her suppressed indignation. She abrasively expressed, “You don't know me and never called. Plus, did you forget that your father is the reason why mine is dead?" Slightly provoked, Aiden, one-handedly, pushed her to the car by her midsection and found himself embracing her. He inhaled slowly to whisper in a deep offensive tone, "You don't forget that your daddy was a snitch." Amari voiced an insulted sound and motioned to slap him. Instinctively, he grabbed her wrist before she could. While their hearts raced, they both gazed passionately into one another’s eyes.

Aiden smirked then stepped back. Apologetically, he said "I buried the past with my father eleven years ago Kama..." Aiden stopped to correct himself and proceeded. "Amari, you should too." Amari felt so vulnerable and could not wait to get in her car because the windows were tinted. When she shut the door, Aiden felt demoralized and looked at his feet. Then, he heard muffled screaming and profanity coming from her car. He rose his head to see her window rolling down. "Get in the car," she demanded. Aiden was so elated. He left his dumbstruck friends who doubted he knew her on the Set.

Kamaria had these beautiful green eyes that manifested innocence and hope as a child. Her smile radiated light against her smooth dark skin. Like other children, she had a sweet tooth. Occasionally, she indulged in her favorite caramel treats that were as sweet as her jovial personality. Her father would treat her with five dollars weekly when she performed exceptionally well in school. She would buy all the cheap pink candy gums and caramel treats at the nearby corner store. Aiden would always accompany her. They were not just neighbors and classmates. Aiden, as Darius would say, "was sweet on Kamaria." Word traveled that while DC died saving his girls, he snitched on Darius. After the funeral, Kamaria's mother, Katrina, moved out of Florida to live with family in Georgia. She felt hurt by the rumors that prevented her girls from properly grieving. On the day they left, Aiden stood by his bedroom window heartbroken watching Kamaria cry.

At first, Kamaria had a tough time making friends in Georgia because she was highly intelligent for her age. Bullies surfaced, and she applied lessons she learned from Darius in order to stop other girls from teasing her about her eyes, name and complexion. Darius taught her some fighting moves from his young boxing days. Darius was good with numbers and tutored her in math. He would say, "a woman should be seen, not heard and no one needs to know your business." Once he looked at Kamaria while speaking to Aiden. "Be careful son, a smart beautiful woman is dangerous." That stuck with her the most. Every day she found herself using Darius' life lessons to survive more than her dad's moral advice.

Despite the rumors, Darius and Dominic were like brothers. They both wanted their children to be protected in the event something happened to them. After everything legally settled with their criminal case, Katrina received great news a couple of years later. Darius stashed thousands of dollars in a safe hidden in a house he bought in cash in the children's name. In his instructions, he wanted $20,000 to go to each child at the age of 18. On her eighteenth birthday, Kamaria was given her inheritance. Only one woman had the keys to the house and the safe’s combination. When Kamaria discovered who sent her the birthday gift, she made a trip back home to show Darius’ widow gratitude.

Kamaria was nervous. She had not seen this woman in years. Before she could ring the bell, the door opened. There stood a wise and poised woman in Islamic garb. "Come in and take your shoes off at the door sweetheart," requested Alya. Kamaria followed Alya into a beautifully decorated home. As Kamaria walked through what felt like a time capsule, she saw wonderful memories covering the walls. Alya, gently, took Kamaria's hand to rub while inquiring, "you're all grown up. What brings you home, baby?" Kamaria revealed, "a smart beautiful woman is dangerous; you’re ‘La Doña.’" Alya poured herself a fresh cup of tea and took a sip as she gratifyingly responded. "I always told Darius you were clever, but again, why are you here?" Kamaria answered, "Thank you for the gift, but I started moving bricks.”

Alya, concerned, responded, "Your daddy and Darius were good men. They sacrificed everything to protect their family. Why..." Kamaria interrupted, "My apologies, but there’s a legend about the odd disappearance of the Florida man who ran the drug world. It wasn't your husband like everyone thought because kilos were still moving long after he died. Allegedly, Darius was his right-hand man, but I hung out here every day. Darius didn’t answer to nobody but his wife. I just need your protection.”

You are the kingpin. This is your handwriting in this notebook, not grandpa’s. All these men died protecting you and mom. Alya grimly divulged, “grandson, they died protecting your livelihood. My emir used to quote Escobar all the time, ‘I can replace things, but I could never replace my wife and kids.’ Amari inherited a destiny that has plagued my family for generations. Your stubborn parents were destined to be together. Our fates are predetermined by our disposition and families. I named Amari like my mother did me. Now, she reigns supreme."