by Carl Weber
Inside, I was impressed. The club had a rustic, chill vibe, and the music was really good. There was a nice crowd for a Thursday, but it wasn’t so packed that you couldn’t move around. I’d paid for a table in the VIP section, which included bottle service that we immediately took advantage of, ordering champagne and shots. Half a bottle of champagne and a few shots later, the three of us had taken over the dance floor like we owned the place. All eyes were on us, and I, for one, loved the attention.
All doubts about the place had evaporated. I was enjoying myself, and I was also glad that Sasha had loosened up and was having fun. Most times she tried to play it off and tough it out, but she was still grieving over her mother’s and father’s violent deaths. Out of all of us, she needed this the most.
“This spot is lit!” Sasha yelled happily when we returned to our section from dancing.
“It is,” Paris agreed, leaning toward me so that we could take a selfie. We posed, and then she showed me the finished product. “This is cute.”
“Aren’t we always?” I said, reaching for my own phone to snap a few pics. It was vibrating, and Sebastian’s name showed up on the screen with a text alert. He was a guy I’d been dating off and on—lately more on. We were supposed to be getting together the following weekend. I smiled in anticipation of whatever flirty message he had sent.
Sebastian: Really, Rio? That’s how we do now?
My smile quickly faded.
Rio: Huh? What are you talking about?
I watched the three dots appear on the screen as he typed.
Sebastian: You knew I was on my way to the club and your ass just up and left? Oh, and I know you showed up here with some bitch on your arm too, you disrespectful bastard.
“What the fuck?” I said aloud.
“What’s wrong?” Paris asked.
“Sebastian’s jealous ass, that’s what’s wrong,” I huffed.
“Damn, Rio, you must have put it on him.” Sasha jumped into our conversation.
“I did.” I smiled devilishly and rotated my hips, making them both laugh. “Well, I gotta go to the restroom, and then I might as well call his ass. I’ll be back.”
I made my way around the dance floor, so busy dialing Sebastian’s number that I bumped into a guy near the bathroom entrance. “Sorry,” I mumbled, heading into the men’s room. By now, I’d called Sebastian four times, and he’d sent me to voicemail each time. On the fifth try, he finally answered.
“What the fuck do you want, Rio?”
“I want to know what hell those texts were about.”
“You pretty motherfucker, don’t you dare question me like I did something wrong and not you. What the fuck?” Sebastian yelled.
“First of all, I haven’t done nothing wrong, so I don’t know what bug crawled up that tight ass of yours, but you need to pull it out and calm the hell down,” I replied. I didn’t know what had him so upset. “Now, use your big-boy words and talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about now. The time for us to talk would’ve been when you showed up at my club all boo’d the fuck up with some bitch, kissing and shit. Then, when my people tell you I’m on the way, you get up and leave before I can get there. What the fuck was that all about?”
I pulled the phone way from my ear for a second as if he would be able to see the crazy look on my face. “Sebastian, what the hell are you talking about? I’m not in Miami. I’m in New York.” I leaned against the wall near the bathroom sinks.
“Whatever, Rio.” Sebastian sighed. “Don’t fucking call me no more, ’cause your ass is officially cut off.”
“Wait, what?” He sounded serious. “But I didn’t do shit.”
“Keep telling yourself that shit,” Sebastian replied. “And you and your bitch owe me a thousand dollars for that bottle of Ace of Spade. Bye, Felicia.” He ended the call.
My emotions were all over the place. I was confused, angry, and most of all hurt. I really liked Sebastian. We had a good time together, not to mention he was cute, always dressed to impress, and was damn good in bed. Plus, we had a lot in common, seeing as how he was a club owner who sold and distributed drugs on the side—just like me. Even skeptical Paris thought we were a perfect match.
“That’s him right there,” I heard someone say.
I looked up from my phone just as some dudes approached me. I recognized the guy I’d bumped into on my way into the bathroom. He was with a couple of beefy brothas who looked like they ate steroids for breakfast.
“You sure that’s him, Theo? This dude looks like he’s got a little sugar in his tank,” one guy said, stepping up.
“Yeah, that’s him,” Theo replied. “I used to play ball with his ass down by Yankee Stadium.”
The angry-looking guy in the middle stepped closer, crowding my space, and then so did his two friends. If I thought about exiting, they had just made it impossible.
“I had a feeling your bitch ass was gonna show up here since your boy was deejaying. I hear you got something that belongs to me,” the angry giant said.
“Obviously you’re not talking to me,” I said, shaking my head.
“You damn right I’m talking to you, motherfucker.” He stepped so close I could smell the hot sauce on his breath. He was taller than me, standing a little over six feet, and he was built like he knew how to fight and so did his boys. “You think you could sneak around and fuck my girl and get away with it? Well, you was wrong!”
“Mister, I don’t know you or your girl.” I almost laughed at his accusation. “You must have me confused with someone else. I definitely ain’t fuck nobody’s girl, trust me. I’m on a whole ’nother team.”
We were now standing face to face. I tensed up, sensing that something was about to pop off, and whatever it was, it was not going to be good. I wasn’t Paris or Sasha, but I had enough training to take this guy out. However, I knew I couldn’t take all three, so I was going to have do this diplomatically.
“Where is she?” he snapped in my face.
I was so busy wondering who the hell his chick was that before I knew it, his hands were wrapped around my throat, choking the shit out of me. I gasped to breathe and swung at his face in an effort to free myself from his grip. My fist connected with his jawline, but instead of loosening like I wanted, his fingers tightened. I decided to choose another course of action and kneed him in the stomach. He released my neck, and we began to scuffle.
I got in a few good blows but then he reached behind his back. It was time to get the hell out of there, but before I could take a step, he had a steel blade pressed against my neck.
“I’m gonna ask you this one more time. Where the fuck is Kandace?” He applied some pressure on the knife. The thought of it piercing my skin had me scared to death. My heart raced as I stared into his eyes and saw anger and hatred. This guy was about to kill me. This was it. This was how I was going to die—in the bathroom of a fucking nightclub in Harlem, all because this motherfucker thought I screwed some chick named Kandace. Ain’t that a bitch? I always knew I was going to die in dramatic fashion, but this damn sure wasn’t it.
Paris
11
I’d spent the last five minutes trading flirtatious looks with the DJ. He was the same guy I’d met a few days ago outside the jewelry story, and he was even sexier than I remembered. Good thing he waved me over, so I wouldn’t have to approach him first. I didn’t want to look all thirsty like some of these desperate chicks that had been coming at him all night.
“I’ll be right back,” I told Sasha.
“Where you going? You’re not gonna just leave me here alone, are you?” she called after me as I stepped down from the VIP section.
“Trust me, I’m not going very far.” I gestured toward the DJ booth.
She glanced over there and saw my intended target. “Well, then, I approve,” she said.
I wasn’t worried about leaving Sasha. Rio would be back soon, and anyway, her little protest about being left alone was basica
lly an act. She was not shy at all when it came to men.
Before I could knock on the door to the DJ booth, he had opened it, cheesing. “I see you came through. That’s what’s up.”
He gave me a hug, and I caught a glimpse of the diamond bracelet he was wearing. He may have been rugged, but he had great taste as well: two factors that attracted me. As I stepped into the DJ booth, I was surprised how much quieter it was. We could actually talk without screaming.
“I told you I might come check it out,” I said, swaying to the music.
“A woman of her word. I like that.” He smiled at me, displaying the shiny grills in his mouth that weren’t there before. “I guess I gotta be a man of my word and get you that drink. Just hold on a sec. I gotta change this song.”
He slid on his headphone and bent over his equipment. Meanwhile, I gave him the once over again. Damn, he was fine, and he had the kind of body that just screamed at a sister that he could throw it.
“I like that bracelet,” I said, touching his wrist when he turned back to me. “That shit is lit. I was looking at one just like it for my brother’s birthday right after I met you.”
His eyes shifted, and he pulled back his wrist. He was now on alert, but I could see him trying to play it off and remain calm. “Word? Did you get it for him?”
“Nah, the place got robbed while we were there.”
“Oh, for real?” He raised his eyebrows, looking both surprised and slightly uncomfortable.
“Yeah, can you believe it? It was robbed by a UPS man and a dude in some fly-ass Jordans.”
We both looked down at his feet. He was wearing the same damn shoes he’d had on when he robbed the jewelry store.
“You can tell a lot about a man by his shoes.” I gave him a knowing look.
“What you trying to say, ma?” He took up a defensive posture.
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “That I should get two drinks—one for coming to see you, and the other for knowing how to keep my mouth shut. What do you think?”
He let out a sigh, and his demeanor relaxed. “I think you’re my kind of woman and you should get the whole damn bottle.” He waved over the cocktail waitress. “So, what’s your name?”
“You first, handsome.”
“They call me DJ Dee, but my name’s Denny. And you?”
I quickly went through my mental Rolodex of club aliases as I tried to decide which one to give him. This wasn’t an ordinary thug I was talking to. Whoever he was, he had swag and style, but more importantly, he was reckless and daring. Whatever name I gave him had to show him we were evenly matched.
“I’m Princess—”
My introduction was cut short by Sasha, who rushed up to the booth. I walked over to the door, totally expecting her to block. “That’s my friend. Hold on a second.”
“Hey, something’s up with Rio,” she said into my ear. “He hasn’t come out the bathroom yet.”
“Did you try calling him? Maybe he slipped out without you noticing.”
“Maybe, but I called and I sent him a text. He ain’t answer.”
“Shit.” There was some sort of commotion near the back of the club. “Excuse me, Denny. I gotta go check on a friend. I’ll be right back.”
With Sasha right on my heels, I rushed toward the back. There was a small crowd gathered outside the men’s room, all pressing together to try to get a better look. I pushed my way past all the nosy bystanders that were too afraid to go in.
“Oh my God! Rio!” I yelled as I entered, unable to believe my eyes. Rio was on the floor, bleeding. It looked like someone had kicked the living shit out of him. I rushed to my brother’s aid. “No, no, no,” I repeated, cradling his head.
“Is he alive?” Sasha asked, leaning down to check his pulse. “Thank God. He’s got a pulse.”
“We need to get him to a hospital! Somebody call a damn ambulance!” I yelled at all those stupid motherfuckers that were watching us, whipping out cell phones to take videos.
KD
12
“Looks like we got here just in time,” I said as we pulled up to the hangar of the tiny airport in Beaumont. A small Cessna was parked on the tarmac, and three men and a woman walked toward it. One of the men was clearly a bodyguard or private security, and the woman and the younger man were staffers. The older man was the one I’d come to see.
“Pull up right next to that sucker.”
“Not a problem,” Tyler said, flashing his cruiser lights and pulling up so close that I could damn near step out of the car and onto the plane.
“Congressman,” I said when Tyler opened the rear door for me to step out.
The bodyguard reached inside his blazer, but the older man, Congressman Wesley Bell of the Fifth District of New Mexico, stopped him.
“Hold on, Joseph. I know these gentlemen,” Wesley said, staring at me with disdain.
I didn’t give a shit. I just stared back. I’d known him almost forty years, back to when he was just plain old Wes, way before he was a town clerk, then the mayor of some backwoods town in New Mexico, and then a fucking congressman.
“Y’all go ahead and get on the plane. This’ll only take a minute.”
The male staffer followed his direction, but Joseph and the woman beside him hesitated.
“Go on, now. I’ll be fine,” Wesley told them, and they finally began walking up the steps.
Once they were out of sight on the plane, Wesley turned to me. “KD, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I heard you were in town, and I came by to talk a few minutes, that’s all,” I explained to him calmly. “Would you rather I stopped by your office?”
“Hell no! You know I can’t afford to be talking to you. Not after what happened last time. That shit got you put away for years, and I was almost caught up in that mess.” He shook his head angrily.
“You were caught up in it, and I’ve got the Polaroid to prove it. I just took the blame so you could get the job you’re in now, Congressman.”
“And I used that job to get your ass out in two years instead of twenty. As far as I’m concerned, we’re even.”
“The fuck we are,” I said in no uncertain terms. You know, it amazed me how short these sons of bitches’ memories were. “I lost my job, my wife, and my reputation protecting you. More importantly, I lost two years of seeing my boy grow up. So I don’t wanna hear we’re even.”
“Shit. What do you want, KD?” he blurted out in disgust.
“I’m having an event out at my place Friday night. I need you to make an appearance.”
“I won’t even be in town Friday night. I’m headed to D.C. for the next week and a half, so whatever event you’re having, I can’t make it.” He turned to walk away.
“Now, we both know you can go and come as you fucking choose, especially since you have the use of this nice plane at your disposal.” I looked at the Cessna and waved at the staffers who were peering through the windows. They quickly turned away as if they hadn’t been watching us. I continued, “Now, ask yourself this: what would happen if your wife and constituents found out that you were with me that night? And that it was your idea, mister holy roller congressman?” I said with an innocent shrug.
Wesley gave me a death stare. “You son of a bitch. You know this is blackmail.”
“Call it what you want, but if I were you, I’d call it an opportunity from a friend.”
“You’re calling yourself my friend while you blackmail me into an opportunity?”
“I was your friend when you left me in that warehouse alone with those three girls,” I said, faking indignation. “You know how loyal I am and the lengths I’m willing to go to protect my friends. So, if you think about it, being my friend is not necessarily a bad thing. Please don’t force my hand.”
I could tell he wanted to run on that plane and fly away, but he was trapped, and we both knew it. I wanted to laugh.
“Now, I need you at this party. I’d like you to come as a friend,
but if need be, it can be as my fucking bitch.”
“And if I come to this gathering, what then? What’s the upside for me?”
“How about the beginning of your gubernatorial run?”
He raised an eyebrow, and I watched as he shed all concern. That’s when I really knew I had him right where I needed him. As I’d expected, talk of more political power was just the thing to get his dick hard.
Chippy
13
“LC, you need to call me as soon as possible. Rio’s been hurt—bad.”
I hated leaving a message like that for my husband, but he’d left me no choice. I’d attempted to call him twice and got no answer. All I knew was that he had caught a flight from Baltimore to Atlanta, so I supposed his phone could have been turned off. But then again, it wasn’t like he was flying commercial where they make you turn them off. On a normal day, I would have cursed his ass out for ignoring my calls like that, but now I had much more serious things to worry about. My son needed me.
“Ma, I’m gonna let you out and park the—”
By the time Vegas pulled up to the hospital, I had jumped out and was halfway to the entrance of the emergency room. I heard him trying to tell me something, but I was too busy rushing inside.
“I’m looking for my son, Rio Duncan,” I said to the woman at the reception desk. I scanned the crowded waiting room, looking for Paris and Sasha, but they were nowhere to be found. “He was brought here by ambulance a little while ago.”
She didn’t respond immediately, and I was two seconds away from going off on her when she finally looked up from her computer. “He’s in the back. Have a seat and we’ll call you when he’s either admitted or discharged.”
