King of the Block

By Michael Driver

For as long as he can remember, Rafe Simmons has lived a life of luxury; access to all the money he’s ever wanted, to women men can only dream of, and to the finer things that people only wish for. There’s nothing at his fingertips that he can’t have with a snap of his fingers. However, Rafe has only earned these things because of his father, Don Cinco, the most legendary gangster in the history of Summerville, New York. Rafe enjoys being a playboy, with no intentions of ever settling down or leaving the street life behind.

However, when Rafe receives a dire warning from his father, that he brushes off, he finds his life upside down. Now, Rafe must fight his way through the streets of Summerville all the way to the truth. But what he finds waiting for him is enough to shake him to his core and make him re-evaluate everything that he thought he knew. Join Rafe, as he embarks on a blood stained journey that will leave him questioning everything about his life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Driver
• Release date: Apr 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005917883

Michael Driver

Michael Driver is a young African American author who currently resides in Colorado. Inspired by the likes of Donald Goines and James Patterson, he enjoys writing gritty, thrilling stories that captivate his readers, and hopes to be considered among the greatest of fiction writers. In his spare time when he's not writing he enjoys playing video games or reading a book from some of his favorite authors.

Book preview

Chapter One

So when are we going to settle down, Rafe?

As I tied my tie around my neck I turned around from the mirror to regard Shantè, who was still sprawled naked on the bed in front of me, her fingers lazily intertwining in her hair. She was smiling while she blew bubbles with her gum.

It wasn’t hard for me to admit that Shantè was fine. She was gorgeous from head to toe. The girl was stacked, with 34 DD breasts, and an ass that caused many a head to turn. All that combined with her deep brown complexion and long black hair, made her a dime piece. But I wasn’t ready to be committed to anyone long term. Even to a woman as gorgeous as Shantè. But I wasn’t about to tell her that.

C’mon baby. You know I’m tryna hustle to make enough bread first and then we can talk about settling down. I lied too easily, soaking my voice in honey, and saying it all through a nice, wide smile.

Is that why you still go to Natasha’s house on Saturdays? Shantè stopped popping her gum and sat up straight, crossing her legs and folding her arms.

The contempt in her voice wasn’t lost on me but I ignored it. I walked towards her, coming to sit beside her on the bed. I wrapped her in my arms, pulling her closer as she tried to pull away from me.

Don’t be like that. Come here. Come here, Tè. I almost whispered her nickname to her. I knew she couldn’t resist it. She settled back against my chest, her face still turned down in a pout. She did look sexy when she pouted.

Don’t make me any more promises about us that you’re not going to keep Rafe. I don’t want any more of those. She turned her head away from me, but she didn’t try to pull away from me.

Look at me, Tè. I tucked a finger under her chin and turned her head to look at me. Her eyes were still anywhere but mine.

Look at me, baby. I made my voice as soft as possible. Finally she looked up at me. Her eyes always managed to hold me; they were pools of golden honey that I could’ve sunk into. I almost lost my train of thought. Almost.

Don’t I take care of you? I waited until she nodded before continuing. I make sure you got everything you need. I put you up in this nice crib. I got you Tè. I leaned in for a kiss, which she eagerly returned. After a minute, she pulled away from me.

So what about Natasha? You gonna keep fucking with her? Her eyes were starting to water. Damn, I hated to see any woman cry.

Look what we have is something that I don’t have with Natasha. That part was true; Natasha just gave good head. She’s not gonna take this ride with me. I want you to take this ride with me, Tè. I put as much sincerity in my voice as I could, and didn’t move my eyes from hers.

You promise? She asked after a pause, her voice a murmur.

I promise. If she had hooked me up to a lie detector test, I would have failed immediately.

I love you, Rafe. She cupped her hand to my cheek. I know you love being in the streets, but I love you. She stared at me, her eyes searching my face.

I flinched inside, but I didn’t let her see that. I smiled a trademark Rafe Simmons smile, then kissed her again. This kiss was longer, more passionate, at least on her end.

Are you coming back tonight?, she asked when we broke apart.

I stood up, and grabbed my suit jacket off of her dresser. Yeah I’ll be back. Yet another lie. I gotta go see Pops today. I turned to walk out of the room and downstairs where Charlie was waiting with the car.

Rafe. Shantè called my name from behind me.

I turned around, confused about the concern I heard in her voice. Yeah?

Be safe, okay. She brushed a tear out of the corner of her eye.

I cocked my head at her, and raised an eyebrow. I’m always safe, Tè. I’m good. I blew her a kiss from across the room, waited until she caught it, then shot her another smile and left, careful to close the door behind me.

I quickly made my way through her apartment, not wanting any more unnecessary interactions. The concern in her voice had rattled me just a little bit, but I wasn’t going to sweat it.

I stopped in front of her door, looking around for my shoes. JAY-Z’s Money, Cash, Hoes came blaring out of my jacket pocket, and I felt my phone start to vibrate. Charlie was getting impatient downstairs.

I found my shoes, and said a silent prayer, thankful that they were slip on dress shoes, then reached in my pocket and slid the green phone symbol across my phone screen.

I’m coming, Charlie, I’m coming yo. I patted myself down quickly making sure I had my wallet, and my keys.

Man, just hurry yo’ ass up. You know your pops don’t like to be kept waiting. Charlie’s gruff baritone oozed nervousness.

Relax, Chuck, relax. I opened the door and stepped into the hallway. Pops likes you too much to off you.

Look don’t fucking call me Chuck nigga. You know I hate that shit. In the background I heard Charlie start the car.

Relax, my nigga. I’m on my way down. I ended the call and stuffed my phone back in my pocket.

Shantè lived in the penthouse suite of one of the high rises that Pops owned. He’d actually given me the building; I was making a nice check off of it too.

The hallway was empty, which I expected for eight in the morning; not even the janitorial crew was up this early. I turned to my left and made my way down, until I hit the elevator.

It was going to take a minute for the elevator to get here: this was the forty-first floor. I leaned against the wall, taking my time browsing through my IG feed. I saw some things I liked. Some bad little models that I might be able to scoop.

I was in the middle of DMing one, when the elevator dinged. I put my phone away, and stepped on, planning to zone out for a bit for the ride down. I wondered what the old man wanted to talk about; my father wasn’t a man of many words, preferring to let his actions speak for him.

He had imparted plenty pearls of wisdom over the years but not the usual things fathers and sons would talk about. Regular kids had conversations with their dads about being bullied at school. Me and my pops had talked about the proper way to load a Glock.

My father wasn’t a bad man, the streets was just all he knew. He had once said to me Rafe, the only thing I know is I want to live longer than your grandfather. I had never met my grandfather, but the man’s legend almost succeeded my father’s. All I knew was that he had died in his twenties; my pops was thirty-six. Mission accomplished.

The elevator dinged again and I pulled myself out of my thoughts. I stood straight up, brushed my suit down, and stepped out.

I greeted Debra, the receptionist, on my way out the double doors. Charlie had parked the Escalade as close to the curb as possible which meant he was basically on it.

I heard the beep of the car unlocking, and as I slid in the backseat, Charlie rolled down the divider between the backseat and front seats.

You too good to ride up here with your boy now? Charlie’s mocking was followed by a glance in the rearview mirror and a low chuckle.

Man, whatever. Just drive. I wanna be prepared before I go deal with the old man. That was the truth; dealing with Pops these days was stressful. His paranoia was getting deeper.

Then you might wanna straighten your tie. Maybe not look like you been fucking for the past two hours. Charlie chuckled again.

I studied myself in the rearview mirror for a second. My father’s face stared back at me. My grandmother had always said I looked like Pops had just spit out another him. The same hazel eyes, the same strong cheekbones and jawline, same thick, jet black eyebrows with thick, curly hair the same color. The same caramel complexion. I looked like my father’s younger brother anytime we were next to each other.

You still ain’t fixed that damn tie, Rafe. Charlie’s voice tore my eyes away from the mirror.

Yeah and your fat ass still ain’t started driving yet. We gon’ be late nigga, come on.

Charlie mumbled something about bitches loving his fat ass, then put the car in gear.

I stared out the window as Charlie drove, my eyes wandering over the same buildings and streets that I always saw. This was the New York that was advertised on TV: the bright lights of the city, the celebrities walking the streets, the big events always happening in Times Square. That was the New York everyone wanted to visit, but that wasn’t the New York I was from.

No, I was from over the bridge.

It was another warm day, and I told Charlie to turn up the AC a little. The traffic across the Manhattan was reasonable today, which meant that there were only mild honks and swears being thrown around.

I sat back in my seat, and closed my eyes, relaxing. The noise of the city was always comforting, comforting enough to sleep in. Which is what I did while Charlie drove on.

The car came to a stop, maybe twenty, thirty minutes later.

We here, Rafe. Charlie turned the car off, and looked back over the divider.

I blinked, and shook myself awake. Damn, already?

Yeah, man. Fix yourself, bro. You need a piece of gum or something? Charlie scrambled through the glove box, coming up with a mint.

I took it, and sat up, rubbing my hands across my face trying to make myself look like I was awake. I look aight? I looked to Charlie.

Yeah, you look straight. You ready to see what the old man wants? Charlie’s nervousness was written all over his face.

Don’t sweat it, C-Boogie. Let’s go get this done. I slid across to the other side of the backseat and opened the door, stepping out into the Summerville heat.

My father’s warehouse filled my vision. He owned a logistics warehouse that produced component parts for computers. It was a front, a legitimate business, but a front still. Pops’ favorite saying was you don’t shit where you eat, so he didn’t conduct any organization business here unless it was an absolute emergency.

Which is why the pit in my stomach grew, with every step I took.

The automatic doors opened before me, and I stepped through. The security officers didn’t bother with wanding me or Charlie, or making us go through the metal detector. Everybody knew who I was. Pops only employed his soldiers who worked for his organization, so that way they had legitimate jobs to explain their bank accounts.

I walked through another set of double doors onto the production floor, returning the nods and daps I got. I admired my father’s commitment to being a legitimate businessman: his machinery was all top of the line, purchased legally. Everyone had badges, name tags and had received all the proper certifications necessary to do the work they did. Sometimes I wondered why Pops didn’t go completely legit. But I knew his answer was the same as mine.

We loved the thrill that came with running the streets. We loved the respect and the power. When your name was enough to cause grown men to piss themselves and enough to make women’s panties wet. It was a rush unlike any other. And, last but not least, the money. Even without the legitimacy of the warehouse, Pops was touching Jeff Bezos’ money. The Simmons Family would be set for decades to come.

Charlie and I made our way to the