Page 92 of Omar

"And you're okay?"

"Yeah," I said. "I'm okay."

"Good." She finished her coffee. "Then go do what you gotta do. I'll be here when you get back."

"You sure you'll be alright here alone?"

"Girl, I got Omar's TV, Omar's couch, Omar's fridge full of Portia's food. I'm better than alright." She waved me toward the door. "Go. Give Kadeem everything he needs to take that man down."

I showered, got dressed, and took a car to Bed-Stuy.

Kadeem had more questions based on what Devon had found overnight. Devon was there too with his laptop, cross-referencing everything I said against his databases in real time.

I sat across from Kadeem with Portia's coffee and started filling in the gaps.

"Cee's routine," Kadeem began. "Walk me through a typical day."

"He picks me up at the apartment between eight-thirty and nine. Drives me to the salon, parks outside. He doesn't come inside unless Supreme tells him to, which only started recently. He stays in the car until I text him I'm done. If I have a home visit he drives me there, waits outside, drives me back."

"Does he carry?"

"Always. Piece in his waistband, right side. He's left-handed so he draws across his body."

Devon typed. Kadeem wrote.

"What about Mike? The warehouse door."

"Mike works the door from six in the evening until two in the morning. He's the only one Supreme trusts to handle the front entrance. He checks everyone who comes in, runs names against a list Supreme updates weekly. If your name ain't on the list you don't get through the door."

"What's the list look like? How many names?"

"Twenty, maybe twenty-five. It changes depending on what Supreme's running that week. Product nights have more names than money nights."

"And the four men closest to Supreme," Kadeem continued. "Names."

I took a breath. This was the part where I was dismantling everything I'd built inside the life of a man who would kill me for what I was doing at this table. Every name I gave them was a bridge burning behind me.

"Dre handles the Crown Heights territory. He runs the collections, manages the runners, reports directly to Supreme every morning. Terrence runs East New York, same structure, same reporting. Bolo is Supreme's personal security when Cee isn't around. He travels with Supreme to meetings, carries two weapons, sits outside the door of whatever room Supreme's in." I paused. "And then there's Ray-Ray. Not my father. Different Ray. He handles the Atlanta side of things, the distribution network Supreme built down there. He's the one who ran the operation while Supreme was in Brooklyn."

"Ray-Ray got a real name?" Devon asked without looking up.

"Raymond Simmons. Goes by Ray-Ray. Supreme calls him Little Ray to differentiate from my father."

Kadeem looked at me across the table. "You memorized all of this."

"Three years of sitting in rooms where men talked like I wasn't there. They'd discuss business in front of me because Supreme treated me like furniture. Part of the house, part of the decoration. He never considered that I was listening."

"Well, you were." Kadeem almost smiled. "And now we got everything they said."

"The Crown Heights location on Sterling," he continued. "That the only holding spot he uses?"

"He's got two others I know about. One in Flatbush, above a laundromat. One in East New York near the expressway. He rotates depending on what he's storing."

"Product or cash?"

"Both. Sometimes people."

Kadeem looked at me. I met his eyes. He nodded and wrote it down.