Free The Tragic Flaw by Che Parker Page A

violating the city’s fire laws.
    As the minx leaves, two women behind her get into a fight, throwing punches, scratching each other, and cursing. It’s a significant contrast to her clandestine method of warfare, less effective and much more visible.
    Boom, boom, boom, boom. Yet another victim has fallen for Olivia’s sinister Kabuki. Boom, boom, boom, boom.
    Â 
    â€œHail Mary” is spelled out on Cicero’s digital text-message communicator. He takes a quick look at the message, acknowledges its significance, and then deletes it.
    He is expressionless and without reaction as he drives his pearl-white SUV through the inner city; titanic tires turning. Kam rides shotgun, once again blowing big blue weed smoke. Today’s crop is dipped in embalming fluid, and Kam’s being nosy.
    â€œWho was that?” he asks as he inhales deeply.
    â€œOlivia,” Cicero answers in his deep tranquil voice.
    Kam looks as if he is thinking, trying to jog his memory. A light bulb comes on and he exhales.
    â€œOh! That bad-ass broad you be meeting in the coffee shop,” Kam decides. “She’s killin’ ’em,” he says in his deep, sluggish speech pattern. “What’s up with you and her?” he inquires before taking another long puff of his marijuana-stuffed cigar.
    â€œNothing,” Cicero responds as he sips cognac from a red plastic cup. He’s nicely dressed in a black blazer with matching T-shirt and slacks. His face and head are freshly shaven. His Italian loafers are well polished.
    â€œNothing? Shit, ya’ll be kickin’ it all the time, right?” Kam prods. He wears a similar all-black outfit with matching alligator boots. His dark ebony skin is smooth.
    In the past, Cicero has kept his lieutenants in the dark regarding each other’s activities, and he’s pleased to see these operational details are exquisitely esoteric. He takes another sip of cognac.
    â€œWe have a business arrangement,” he tells Kam, who is high.
    â€œA business arrangement?” Kam asks as he exhales and fills the SUV with skunk-smelling plumes of smoke. Hip-hop blazes through the sound system.
    Cicero looks somewhat bothered, but at this point, he figures Kam no longer needs to stay in the dark. His questions reveal to Cicero that he has interest in Olivia, so Cicero chooses to enlighten him, and possibly save his life.
    â€œI pay her to know my enemies,” Cicero states, “in the Biblical sense.”
    Kam appears confused. He knows what Cicero means, but he can’t understand why. He takes an extremely long drag from his blunt.
    â€œWell fuck,” he weighs in, “how do I become one of your enemies?” He laughs and playfully punches Cicero in his arm, causing him to almost spill his drink.
    Cicero takes another sip and ignores the comment. There’s a long moment of silence, then for Kam’s sake he states, “She has AIDS.”
    Kam’s eyes widen and his jaw drops. His face goes from showing glee to showing obvious disbelief. Cicero makes a gliding left turn on Twelfth Street, narrowly missing a homeless man pushing a shopping cart. Cicero thinks to himself that their destination cannot wait on some disenfranchised piece of shit to cross the street, even if he is a Vietnam vet.
    Kam slowly leans back in his seat, allowing the leather to engulf him as he takes a long pull from his blunt before tossing it out the window.
    In a subdued voice, Kam asks, “How’d she get that shit?”
    â€œHer boyfriend in college,” Cicero answers. “He played on the football team, came from a good family. She told me he was even on the Dean’s list.” He looks over at Kam. “You know, good grades and shit.”
    Cicero takes another sip of his cognac and begins feeling the effects of the one-hundred-year-old, oak-aged libation. Kam glares at him, listening intently.
    Cicero continues, “So needless to say,