by Kiki Swinson
“I knew from the very first time I laid eyes on Rein in my living room. She was the living image of Kenneth. Plus I remember Kenneth telling me vaguely that he spoke with Sasha from time to time. That meant they were fooling around. But he didn’t know how to tell you, Porsha.” Ma looked at me, then at Sasha. Now I understood why she had taken to Rein so much. And I knew it was Rein who had breathed life back into her. “I just wanted to see how long you would wait before you said anything, Sasha.”
Sasha chuckled with sarcasm. Just to look at her made me want to pull her eyes and hair out. “Dream on. I would have never have told you about Rein. She is mine, she belongs to me,” she spat.
I had had enough of her. I felt nothing but contempt and hate. “Bitch, I swear you are low down and trifling,” I barked. “I don’t know how my brother ever messed around with you. Such a bum bitch!” I seethed.
“Girl, sit yo stupid ass down. That’s why you got fucked.”
“That’s okay, bitch. You about to get fucked next. Ho!” I yelled back. “All this for some shit that happened in high school.”
“Bitch—” Sasha started back in.
In that moment Game took advantage of our distraction. He reached for his gun but not fast enough. Briana shot him directly in the head. Standing next to him, I screamed as I saw his brains spill out the back of his head. He fell backward.
Sasha went for Keisha, who was distracted as she watched Game’s body make contact with the carpet. Sasha’s gun fired as it hit the floor, hitting Keisha in the neck and abdomen. Sasha paused and watched Keisha’s body hit the floor.
Briana attacked Sasha. Carefully stepping past Game and over Keisha, I picked Briana’s gun up off the floor. “Move, Bri,” I ordered her with the gun pointed at Sasha. Briana stopped punching Sasha in the face.
Out of breath, Sasha laughed with blood dripping from her top lip. “Bitch, you ain’t gon’ do shit. You too weak. That’s why Game was able to use you so easy. Gullible.” She gave another hearty laugh. “You even got that same dumb look your brother had on his face when he realized I had set his as up. Nigga tried to play me, but I set that shit straight.” I couldn’t believe she had just admitted to having my brother killed.
“Bitch, and for that you gon’ burn in hell.” Pop, pop. I pumped two bullets into her head, straight between the eyes, then watched as the blood dripped down both sides of her mouth and the life drained from her body. Never again would I have to see her face.
CHAPTER 17
Two short weeks had passed since everything went down, and I must say I was truly over it. I didn’t feel any remorse for anyone who was bodied that night. All three had deserved everything they got. And thankfully, we were able to explain away all that had happened inside that bank. After everything went down Ma, Briana, and I had concocted a quick story that we would use for the cops. With all the bodies, we concluded that there was no way we could all make it up outta there without being noticed.
So instead we sent Ma home and Briana and I stayed behind. The story for the cops went like this. Game was my boyfriend. He had come to pick me up after work. I had let him inside without knowing he had left the door ajar for his sister Keisha to come in. Keisha had come in with Briana and Sasha, who they had kidnapped. Holding them all at gunpoint, Keisha and Game had threatened to kill them if I didn’t let him get the money. Afraid for my own life and for those of my friends, I complied.
Then while Game packed up the money and Keisha ran her mouth, Sasha tried to make a break for it but fell. Game then stood over her and shot her in the head. Meanwhile, Briana attacked Keisha and they fought over her gun, it went off, and the bullets hit Keisha. Game was distracted trying to check on Keisha, and I grabbed Keisha’s gun and shot him. Fortunately for us, the cops believed our story with no doubt. Game and Keisha had rap sheets a mile long. The cops also broke some news to us that we already knew: Game and Keisha were married. In some ways I got the feeling the DA was glad Game and Keisha were dead. They’d been a part of Oakland’s problem, and now they were no longer. Case closed.
The bank was also happy that we were able to fight back and save their money. They couldn’t stop thanking us. They deemed us heroes and cut us checks for fifty thousand each. But of course I expressed emotional distress from the incident which, combined with my desire to go back to school, meant I could no longer work there. With a going-away party and warm goodbyes, they wished me well.
But that was far from the end. After cleaning out Game’s safe and doing a quick sale on his home for half of what it was worth, I cashed out in his name. Talk about greedy—that nigga was it. The two safes in his house had over three million dollars in them. It wasn’t enough for him, but I would gladly take it. Ma and I decided we wanted to leave Oakland. Subsequently, after receiving the DNA test results for Rein, we filed for full custody, packed our bags, and headed for Florida. I begged Briana and her mother to come along, but they wouldn’t have it. Briana had graduated from hair school and wanted to stay in Oakland. So after buying Briana and her mother a house and giving her money to open up a salon, I was out. Twisted Deception had changed my life in more ways than one. But payback was a motherfucker.
DON’T MISS
Pearl Tongue
by Tyrone Bentley
The first book in the Dallas Diamonds series
With a drug addict mother and a drug lord father Aphtan learns how to fend for herself at an early age. Being the princess of an empire has its perks—until her father gets arrested. From stealing clothes and food to committing fraud, Aphtan does what she has to do to take care of her mother and herself. But when her schemes prove problematic, she turns to a new hustle: dancing at Pearl Tongue, the most notorious strip club in Texas . . .
Enjoy the following excerpt from Pearl Tongue . . .
PROLOGUE
“Up next to the stage is your all-time favorite performer here at Pearl Tongue. After a hiatus, she’s back, and as fine as ever. Get the big faces out because anything else will not do. Please welcome the beautiful, talented pole professional Lotus.”
Aphtan’s heart beat ferociously in her chest as her lungs desperately begged for air. Her fingertips went numb as the long, black trench coat she wore swept the marble floor underneath her now-sweaty feet. Her butter-colored skin sparkled under the lights as her stomach thumped uncontrollably with mixed feelings.
“Fuck.” She took a triple shot of Cîroc to help clear her nerves. “You got this,” she told herself. “It’s like riding a bike. You got this.”
Aphtan slowly transformed into Lotus the closer she got to the door that led to the stage. The bass from the music boomed through her ears as a feeling of nostalgia took over her. She looked down at her red-bottomed heels as she leaned against the pale blue door that separated her from her past.
She couldn’t believe that she was about to strip again. It had been six long years since she had been inside Pearl Tongue, which had been her only home at one time. It had been all she knew when she was seventeen, and although she hated to admit it, it felt good to be back.
Aphtan leaned her back against the door as the crowd’s roars intensified in anticipation. Her straight, red-hair wig hung gorgeously over her shoulders as she signaled for the DJ to play her signature song. She smiled as the familiar tune filled the building and brought back into her mind bittersweet memories that she had tried to forget.
All she could think about was Scooter as she opened the door and walked through it, strobe lights flashing in her eyes. The crowd went crazy once they saw her. The love in the room made her feel good, but making enough money stained her brain like bleach mixing with colored clothes in a washing machine.
She put her finger in the air, telling the DJ to run it back and start the song over. The scratching of the turntable flushed away her thoughts as she focused on only the pole. She removed the trench coat, letting it fall to the ground, revealing her two-piece custom-made gear that she hadn’t worn in years and which complemented he
r small, well-built frame.
Money covered the stage seconds later. She knew she would give the crowd exactly what they came for. Aphtan grabbed the pole, swaying her body up and down against it as she made her ass cheeks clap to the beat. She released one hand’s grip, spun around slowly to build up speed with the other, and climbed the pole with ease until her head was at the very top, almost touching the ceiling.
She posed on the pole, using her upper body strength to change positions. Money kept flying onto the stage as the crowd’s cheers and praise competed with the volume of the music. Aphtan continued to make her ass cheeks clap as the door at the entrance of the club swung open wildly. A hint of worry stole over her face. Her eyes grew to the size of golf balls as Scooter and his crew walked in.
“Oh shit,” the DJ spat into the microphone. “Y’all get ready. Here’s Lotus’s signature move.”
Aphtan watched them slowly. Her eyes met Scooter’s. Fear immediately came over her. She could see the hate in his eyes; the desire to take her life. She positioned her hands, then her legs as they split in the air. She never stopped looking at Scooter as she slid all the way to the ground into a split on the floor.
Scooter stared at her from across the room. He just stared; nothing else. Aphtan could feel his pulse beating in her ears from across the room, blocking out all other sounds except the breath that was raggedly moving in and out of her mouth at regular, gasping intervals. If she could hear it from all the way across the room, she imagined it was deafening in his ears. Their eyes locked, so now it was apparent that she too was staring.
Aphtan could not take her eyes away from the other set of eyes across the room that were staring her down. Nothing else mattered. The connection had to be held. If it broke, she would die. He would die. Maybe both of them would. Aphtan had never felt so certain of anything else in her life. Aphtan discerned that Scooter could no longer control his hands; they were shaking in an odd trembling rhythm as the color drained from his face. Yet still he stared. He looked as if he was willing himself not to run, willing the connection to hold.
“There it goes.” The DJ spun around, tangling himself in his headset. “That’s the move that has been imitated by many, but only Lotus does it right. She is the one and only Lotus.”
Aphtan eased herself off the ground. Scooter and his crew were now in the front of the crowd. All she wanted to do was get away. She put two fingers in the air to let the DJ know to end the song. She ignored the crowd’s disappointment as they yelled for their money back while she gathered the bills from the ground.
Grabbing her trench coat, she put it on and walked quickly off the stage. She could feel Scooter’s eyes follow her every move. She opened the door and rushed through it and into the dressing room. Her feet sped up with each second that passed. She ran to her locker while shock consumed her body. Her heart beat inside her throat as she gathered all of her belongings. All of the strippers looked on with wonder as beads of sweat formed all over her face.
Aphtan hadn’t thought Scooter would come for her that quickly. It had only been a few hours since he’d accused her of something she had not done. She thought for sure that she could make a quick few grand and be on her way, but as the door closed behind her in the locker room, she knew that wasn’t going to happen. She was caught, and there was nothing that she could say to save her life.
She turned around; the smell of his cologne confirmed that it was him before her eyes ever could. A loud ringing formed in her ears as he smiled at her. He winked at her, antagonizing her. A scarce stream of pee rushed out of Aphtan as Scooter removed the gun from his waist and pointed it at her.
“Ladies,” he yelled, getting attention of the other dancers in the room. “May we have a moment?”
The dancers screamed as they ran like a herd of bulls at the raising of a red flag. The sight of Scooter meant something bad was about to go down, and they didn’t want any part of it. He walked over to Aphtan. Tears rushed down her face without a sound exiting her mouth. He rubbed the small dimple on her cheek while they glared into each other’s eyes. He pressed the gun into her chest as she closed her eyes, inviting her end.
“Why?” He pressed the gun as hard as he could into her bare flesh. “Why would you betray me? I gave you everything, Aphtan. I upgraded you. I took you out of this place.” He pointed around the room. “Still you betrayed me. I guess a bitch will always be a bitch.”
“I didn’t steal from you.” Aphtan shook her head.
“You don’t have to lie, my love.” He leaned over and kissed her.
“What do you want from me?” she screamed as she opened her eyes. “Stop playing with me. Kill me if you’re going to kill me.”
“Can I have a moment to remember you as you were?” He kissed her lips. “I do love you, despite this moment.”
“Then let me go,” she cried. “I’ll leave and I won’t come back.”
“You know this game.” Scooter pulled the trigger and released a bullet into her chest. “I just can’t do that.”
As the sweat dripped down her forehead, she pleaded for her life. She pleaded, but her cries weren’t good enough. Before she’d even had a chance to pray, she heard the bullet scream out of the gun. The connection of metal and her skin was quick.
As the hard, cold, evil lump of metal penetrated her chest, she sighed. She sighed out of anger, anguish, and agony. She could feel the life being sucked out of her, and her eyes began to shut. Shut for good. Her life was over. And it didn’t even flash before her eyes. It was just gone. Finished. She was about to die.
Scooter caught her body as it was falling and went to the ground with her. He let her rest in his arms as blood gushed from her wound onto his freshly ironed button-up. She looked around the room, her eyes wide with fright; no, not fright, but wonder. Was she in the light? Could she see the light at the end of the tunnel?
Her skin turned a pale, opalescent color. Her hair stuck to her forehead. As he laid her head down slowly, she looked above her, at the dull roof. And before she closed her eyes, she smiled and took her last breath in the arms of the man she once loved.
ALSO AVAILABLE
Cold Flash
By Carrie H. Johnson
In this explosive series, forensic firearms specialist Muriel Mabley takes a one-way plunge that’s outside the law . . .
Enjoy the following excerpt from Cold Flash . . .
CHAPTER 1
Lord only knows the things we’ll do or how far we’ll go for the people we love.
Flailing around in the pool at the Salvation Army Kroc Center this Friday morning was my “thing” I was doing for my girl Dulcey. She has breast cancer. I committed to doing a triathlon, as in a quarter-mile swim, twelve-mile bike ride, and three-mile run. Mind you, I am scared to death of the water, have not been on a bike since childhood . . . that would be forty-plus years . . . and have not run with any speed since the police academy more than twenty years ago.
The SheRox Triathlon Series raises funds for breast cancer research. I admit the whole triathlon thing is a smoke screen for coping with the fear of losing Dulcey. Somehow my crossing the finish line will turn the nightmare into a fairy tale, with a happily-ever-after ending.
So here I am, three months into my training. It’s not like I never work out. At five foot three and 140 pounds, it is necessary to keep all my parts in check. I work out on a semi-regular basis, three or four times a week for a month or two, then I’m distracted by any good reason. Not this time. At least not for another month until after the July event.
I learned to swim five weeks ago and have since mastered a slow, steady stroke. Grab the water, push it away in an S motion with flat hands. Turn my head, suck in air, put my face in the water, blow out air. Each time I turned my head to gulp air, I saw this guy whipping the lifeguard, Pam, with his pointer finger. White guy, six feet, 250 pounds maybe. He was wearing a green, black, and silver sweat suit and a black Eagles cap pulled low on his brow. At first I thought maybe he
was a disgruntled parent of an eel, pollywog, or fish—names that indicated a child’s level of swim achievement.
Children’s squeals bounced off the pool’s dome, signaling the end of adult swim time. The sounds were muffled each time I put my face back in the water. I dug deep to squeak out the last lap, which totaled sixteen, a half mile. I got to the deep end and flipped to retrace my path for the final length.
When I reached the shallow end and walked up the stairs, the guy had Pam’s arm pinned behind her back. He pressed against her body, talking into her ear, red-faced like a heavy drinker or druggie. His other hand was stuffed in his pocket, which bulged with what I suspected was a gun.
A quick check had the children on the opposite side of the pool with their instructors, making enough noise to part the waters.
Pam wriggled under his hold. Her wide eyes darted in every direction until they set on me. She watched me walk past them and sit on the bench. I dried my feet, my arms, and my head, the whole time pleading with the good Lord to move this guy along or grow me large enough to pound him.
He yanked Pam’s arm backward. Pam yelped like a hurt puppy. Damn. I approached from his blind side, aware of my inadequate clothing and dwarfed size in comparison to him.
“Is everything all right here?” I asked, my voice steady, my nerves shivering.
“Mind your damn business, lady,” the guy said, twisting Pam’s arm harder.
