Free Eviction Notice by K'wan

accident on Housing’s part,” Porsha suggested. Frankie and Sahara gave her the same blank stare.
    Frankie patted Porsha’s hand sadly. “Poor thing.” This got the girls to laugh for the first time since they’d gotten the notice. “Okay, I promise not to shoot the bitch unless she tries to pop fly when we step to her about the money.” Frankie slipped the gun into her shoulder bag, which was sitting on the couch next to her. “But as God is my witness, if Debbie tries to spin us I’m gonna go up top.”
    “Fair enough,” Sahara said as she pulled her hair back into a ponytail. After grabbing her keys, she made her way to the door, with Frankie on her heels. “You coming?” Sahara asked Porsha from the doorway.
    “Nah, y’all go ahead.” Porsha got off the couch. “I’ve got some shit I need to do.” She headed to the bedrooms.
    “And what could you have to do that’s more important than going to holla at Debbie about this eviction?” Sahara asked with attitude.
    “Trying to get the money up to keep it from happening,” Porsha said over her shoulder before slamming her bedroom door.

 
    CHAPTER 10
    The setting sun cast a shadow onto the patio that cut down the middle of the marble chessboard on the table. The effect gave the black pieces, which occupied the shaded side, a more morbid appeal, while making the white pieces appear more brilliant. Shai hunched down over the table so far that the crucifix hanging from his neck grazed the board and almost toppled his bishop. He looked like a perplexed child trying to figure out the next move he would try against his cagey opponent. As a rule, Poppa Clark had made sure that all his children were skilled at the game of chess, so Shai considered himself quite experienced, but his opponent had been playing for longer than he.
    Sol Lansky sat across from him in a high-backed chair, crossed-legged and completely at ease. Sol was a silver-haired grandfatherly-looking man, but his mind was still as sharp as it ever had been. He watched Shai carefully, anticipating his next move. Lansky had made his bones anticipating people’s moves and beating them to the punch. In his old age Sol Lansky was a retired businessman and antique dealer, but his life hadn’t always been so quiet. In the fifties and sixties Sol had been in deep with the Jewish syndicate, but as the conflicts with the Italians became more intense, Sol took his business to Harlem and learned to burn the candle from both ends. Sol had been a financial wizard as well as a good friend to both mafia dons and kingpins, including Shai’s late father, Poppa Clark. The death of his good friend Poppa Clark had turned Sol off to the game so he stayed away from it, choosing to focus more on his legitimate holdings, but from time to time he would council Poppa’s heir, Shai.
    “You gonna gawk at the board all day or make a move?” Sol asked in his gravelly voice.
    Shai threw his hands in the air. “See, you keep trying to rush me and throw off my concentration.”
    “What’s to concentrate, there’s only five moves you can make without me putting you in checkmate.”
    “I got this.” Shai ran his fingers down his goatee and continued studying the board.
    Sol laughed.
    “What?” Shai looked up.
    “It’s nothing, it’s just that it still tickles me to see you with facial hair. I remember when you were a snot-nosed punk running around dribbling a basketball.”
    “Everybody has to grow up sometime, Sol.” Shai moved his bishop to take Sol’s rook. Shai folded his arms and smiled triumphantly.
    “Shai, you may have your dad’s good looks but you don’t have his skill for games of strategy.” Sol moved his queen into the spot that the bishop had vacated. “Checkmate, youngster.”
    Shai was dumbfounded. “How the hell did you…”
    “Simple, I anticipated your next move. I put the rook out there because I knew you’d be tempted, which you were, and it left your king exposed.” Sol picked up