Flame was pleasantly surprised. “Ahh, a well-read woman. I’m shocked.”
She smiled prettily. “Not all of us are dumb, shallow women, ya know?”
Flame knew the girl wasn’t dumb. Most women from the South were low-key bookworms, but he thought the Bible was more her speed. He’d read in the tabloids that her whole group were strong church girls, born and bred in Southeast Texas. He heard they gripped that Bible like rigor mortis had kicked in.
“You have a nice body, Flame,” Kim complimented out of the blue. “I hope you don’t mind me saying so.”
“Nah, not at all. You’re good yourself.”
“Good?” She struck a pose. “Just good?”
Flame laughed, and his eyes roamed over her body lasciviously. “Nah, you’re bad as hell, actually. Just didn’t want you to take it the wrong way.”
Suggestively, she raised her eyebrows. “Is there any other way to take it?” Before Flame could answer, she spun and walked away.
Flame followed Kim through the party watching her shake her hips harder than Shakira. He saw a few video models that he had slutted out in the past doing their thing on the dance floor. They were so wrapped up plotting on their next sucker, or high on molly, they didn’t even notice him, which was cool with Flame. Flame was the king of the one-night stand. He didn’t want them to ask questions about how he ghosted them.
They entered another room with marble floors, marble walls, gold chandeliers—pure opulence. A full moon shone down on them through the glass ceiling. Granite gargoyles held sentry on the walls. Beneath those gargoyles, people lined the walls lining their noses with drugs. In fact, drugs were everywhere. Cocaine, molly, lean, so much weed that it didn’t even register as a drug. Hollywood starlets, music executives, and R&B singers—past and present—were passing plates of the white girl around like hors d’oeuvres. A couple of them were nodded out riding that white horse too. Flame wanted no part of that scene. Weed and a li’l X every now and then was his fix. Anything else was out of his league.
Kim guided them from the room of beautiful ugly people and out by the pool. The scene looked familiar. More beautiful ugly people showcasing their insecurities. Topless women crowded the pool, spilling goblets of champagne into the aqua-blue water.
“Chill here, Flame. I’ll be back,” Kim instructed.
As soon as Kim left, Flame searched for 8-Ball. He knew he couldn’t be far. As he looked around the room, steam rising from the pool carried the aroma of stale pussy and weed far into the air, and he could easily imagine all the pills rolling around like tiny wheels. The most stunning thing to Flame was the architecture of the pool. It was multi-leveled, and all the layers were shaped like diamonds. Shit was fire, but he was growing tired of the scene fast. During his first few years in the industry he had done the party thing to death. Plus, being a tagalong of the Crescent Crew, he had been a part of the most lavish parties ever thrown, so this type of scene was old hat to him.
Suddenly, Flame felt a hand tap him on his shoulder.
“Take a walk with me,” a voice said. “I know you tired of this scene. Pro’ly seen it a thousand times, yo.”
Flame turned around and looked up at Tyshawn “Diamond” Barker. The dude was huge, almost to the point of being intimidating. Almost.
“No doubt,” Flame uttered uneasily. He craned his neck to see if Ball’s big ass was around, but he was ghost.
“Looking for your man?” Diamond asked, when he noticed Flame looking around. “He wit’ me. Come on.”
Flame had finally put it together and realized the mansion belonged to Diamond. He followed him to his massive master bedroom. In the center of the white marble floor was a wide Jacuzzi. Inside the Jacuzzi sat one-third of Kismet and Flame’s delinquent security, 8-Ball.
“Yo, my dude, what’s up?” Ball called out from the bubbly water. Monica Wilson sat beside him, snuggled up beneath his rolls of fat. They passed a gold bottle of champagne between them.
“Man, I’ve been looking for you,” Flame told 8-Ball. “How you supposed to watch my back way up here?”
This was a recurring argument between them. The line between friend and bodyguard often blurred.
“Whoa,” Diamond interrupted. “You safe here. This is my spot. Ain’t shit gonna happen to you up in here. Trust that. So relax, jump in. Let’s talk.”
Diamond shucked his toga, and to everyone’s surprise he wore Speedos, the ones that look like panties. His family jewels were crammed all inside the tight fabric and bulged out like a battering ram. He owned no shame, standing there looking like a pro wrestling porn star. He jumped right in the water like nothing was wrong with a near 300-pound diesel black man sporting Speedos.
What the fuck? Flame frowned, totally disgusted. He hesitated on getting in the pool until Kim and Sasha walked into the room.
Kim slid out of her toga real sexy-like, revealing a bikini in Brazilian colors with the hot-yellow string crammed in the crevices of her pretty chocolate-dipped ass. Flame eyed every part of her show. She was finer than Flame thought. She flexed a six-pack tighter than his, but she was still feminine with it. Her breasts were a lot juicer than he imagined too. He imagined all types of freaky episodes with Kim, and for a second he got lost in his daydream.
Until Sasha stepped out of her toga.
Wow! Everything Flame imagined was true, and he drank all of her in, taking mental notes as if he was writing a song about her. From head to toe, her light skin was flawless. She had ass for days . . . literally . . . days! Her waist couldn’t have been bigger than a size two, and her camel toe was bunched up like knuckles down there. Her stomach was flat but it wasn’t as chiseled as Kim’s, and even without makeup on her face she still radiated with beauty. Kim and Sasha both hopped in the Jacuzzi, and Flame followed right behind them.
Kim cozied up next to Flame while Diamond wrapped Sasha in a tight embrace.
“Yo, Flame, allow me to reintroduce myself,” Diamond said. He stuck his hand out. “I’m Diamond. I know you’ve heard of me, right?”
Was he kidding? Flame knew all about Tyshawn “Diamond” Barker.
Born and raised in East New York, he had run with a crew of crazed-out extortionists from the time he was twelve years old. It was said that Diamond was riding a Maserati when other kids his age were riding the bus. He was cutting out of town to get money when other kids were cutting school. His crew had Brownsville on smash and by the time he was sixteen years old he was rumored to have a few bodies under his belt too. It was said that Diamond was playing with seven figures at seventeen years old. Legend had it that Diamond once chopped up an adversary’s girlfriend because she refused to give up his whereabouts. As the story goes, he fed her to her pit bull limb by limb while she was still alive until she eventually broke down and told him what he wanted to know.
Then, right before the feds swooped in, Diamond made a ceremonious exit from the game and started a record label with one of his cronies.
On wax, Diamond boasted about their exploits in the streets. Because his street cred was verified, the hood loved his music. He blew up overnight, it seemed. Then all of a sudden, five million albums later, his crony, his partner in crime and business, went missing.
“Yeah. I know of you,” Flame told him nonchalantly, as he eased his head back and lay on the heated marble slab surrounding the pool. Meanwhile Kim rubbed his leg under the water.
“Guess you had to, huh?” Diamond replied arrogantly. “Tell the truth, B, I’ve been smashing the game for the last five summers, huh?” Flame frowned, and Diamond quickly switched his tone. “Aiight, aiight, your ABP fam been eating too—but I’ve been killing it! Music, movies, jewelry, restaurants.” He ticked off each of his accomplishment on his fingers. “Name it, I done it to death.”
Flame had enough of his boasting. “Yo, Diamond, you did your thing, but I hope you didn’t call me up here to stroke you; especially when you have such a beautiful lady to do it for you,” he replied and gave Sasha wh
at could only be described as a flirtatious smirk.
Everybody got so quiet if a gnat farted it would sound like a cannon exploding. Even the Jacuzzi seemed to stop bubbling. Nobody dared question the great Diamond.
Diamond eyed Flame through slits, then laughed. “Ha, ha, you’re right, B. I can get carried away sometimes. I ain’t call you up here for all that. I called you in here to discuss business with you.”
“What kind of business?”
Diamond sipped from the gold bottle. “Fashion. I saw your work, man, and it’s . . . it’s . . .” Diamond looked to Sasha. “How you say it, babe?”
“Everything you envisioned but couldn’t articulate,” Sasha mocked in an English accent.
“Yeah, yeah, what she said.”
They all laughed, easing the tension.
“Anyway, I wanna go in business with you,” Diamond said. “I want to be your partner, man. You got an eye. I want to collab with you.”
Never in a million years did Flame think his clothes were that hot. He knew he had done magic to make them work with the type of budget he had to work with. Still, he knew they weren’t world-class. However, it felt good to know that Diamond felt they were hot enough to invest in. Flame was excited by the possibilities, but he knew he had to be careful with Diamond. He had a reputation of being the type of man to tell you to go to hell and make you look forward to the trip.
“What kind of collab, though?” Flame asked cautiously.
“Sheeeeit, however you need it! Money, resources, distribution, whatever you need, I’m here for you.” Diamond shrugged his broad shoulders. “Fifty-fifty. We split the profits.”
“Word?”
“Hell yeah! I know a star when I see one, B, and I would be a fool not to get in early before this star takes off to the next galaxy.”
Diamond’s words were like silk to Flame’s ears. It felt good to finally be appreciated. He had been trying to tell Qwess that he was bigger and greater than just a freaky rapper. He was a budding mogul! But Qwess always laughed him off. Now, here was a stranger—a boss in his own right—singing his praises.
Flame looked at his surroundings. The lavish pool, the R&B starlets, and decided this was where he needed to be. Not so fast, though.
“Sounds good so far, but ah, let me check with my people and get back with you,” Flame said.
“Wouldn’t expect nothing less,” Diamond replied with a cheeky smile. He raised his hefty frame from the water and beckoned for Sasha. Sasha raised up and made a show of looking at the water rolling off her hard nipples.
So did Flame.
“Get at me when you get back to the city, Flame. You based in the A, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Aiight, cool. I got a spot there too. Enjoy the night.” He nodded to Kim. “If things go right, we’ll be spending a lot of time together. Come on, babe.”
Sasha grabbed Diamond’s hand. She turned to Flame and melted her brown eyes into his. “Bye, Flaaame,” she cooed.
Flame could’ve sworn he saw a twinkle in Sasha’s eye. It appeared she was choosing right in front of Diamond. That was bold. For a brief second, he forgot all about Kim stroking his leg beneath the water. He forgot about Diamond and his reputation as a killer too. He forgot about everything that a sane man should think about. He was in predator mode.
And Sasha Beaufont was the prey.
Chapter 5
Fayetteville, North Carolina
Qwess sat across the table from famed attorney Malik Shabazz. Malik was riding high on the heels of his victory of getting an accused contract killer, Justus Moore, off on gruesome multiple murder charges. His appearances on CNN had bolstered his name into the legal stratosphere, and Qwess needed that star power on his side right now. He had flown to North Carolina the previous morning to meet with Malik Shabazz in person.
“So, what is all this shit they’re trying to say, Akhi?” Qwess asked as he shuffled through his copy of the lawsuit.
Malik Shabazz stroked his long red goatee. “Well, brother, they’re alleging that you strong-armed an artist from their roster by carrying out a violent assault. That’s considered a tort. Then they’re saying that you interfered with their business practices by this act, and that interference caused them to lose out on an estimated seventy-five million dollars.”
“That’s bullshit! I barely even made five million dollars off her catalog.”
Malik Shabazz raised his bushy eyebrows. “So are you saying you did this act, but you didn’t get nearly the amount off it? Is that what you’re admitting to?”
“Of course not! I’m not admitting to anything.”
“Okay, well, you need to be mindful of what you say.”
“I’m just saying this whole lawsuit is bullshit,” Qwess clarified.
Malik Shabazz smiled. “That’s better. Remember, game face, all the time.” Qwess nodded. “Now what I want to know is where are they getting their info from?”
Qwess shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“Mmm hmm . . . what about the fella in prison for the beating? You think he talking?”
Qwess thought about Samson in prison. He still had nine more calendars to go before he would see the streets again. Yet the fifteen years he received for the assault paled in comparison to what he was really facing if they discovered his true identity.
Qwess shook his head vehemently. “Nah, he would never snitch.”
“You sure? ’Cause, brother, I have seen sons tell on mothers, fathers tell on sons, and husbands tell on wives. You never know what kind of weight a person can’t hold.”
Again, Qwess thought about Samson and came up with the same thing. “Nah, he’s solid.”
Malik Shabazz shrugged. “Okay, if you say so. What about the other two men in here? Are they solid too?”
Qwess couldn’t hold back his smirk. “I can assure you those guys are not telling anything on anybody anywhere.”
Malik Shabazz had defended enough gangsters to know what that statement meant. “Fair enough. So that means they are getting this info from somewhere else.”
“Yeah.”
“By the way, I never got to extend my personal condolences on the passing of your brother, Reece. You were so busy at the memorial that I didn’t get a chance to speak with you. Then, you went MIA. Look, not only was he my best client, we had also established a bond. He was special, and he will be missed.”
“Thank you for that. Reece is probably in this room right now talking shit, telling us not to let them win.”
Malik Shabazz looked around his spacious office and laughed. “Probably so. Well, Reece, if you in here, you know that this will be our next victory.”
Qwess smiled. “That’s what I like to hear.”
For the next hour, Malik Shabazz and Qwess pored over the lawsuit, breaking everything down. Malik Shabazz volleyed questions, and Qwess returned answers. At the end of the hour, the picture became clearer. Qwess had a fight on his hands. The lawsuit had some strong points.
“So, what am I looking at?” Qwess asked Malik Shabazz. “Worst case scenario?”
Malik Shabazz frowned. “Worst case, they hit you for the seventy-five million and you have to pay it. Of course, you can always file for bankruptcy and save a number of your assets, but then they could possibly go after your wife’s assets also. Not to mention, a loss here can potentially open you up to more civil penalties and”—Malik Shabazz raised a finger—“criminal penalties as well. If they get a favorable verdict here, then they will probably press criminal charges against you.”
“Are you serious?”
“As cancer, AIDS, and heart attacks combined. We have to find out the source of the leak. The details in the suit are too spot on for it to be coincidence.”
Qwess sighed. “Fuck. My. Life.”
Qwess had all the keys to life. Money. Power. Respect. Now he was at risk of losing it all behind some nigga shit.
* * *
Flame arrived in New York about two weeks a
fter meeting Diamond in Miami. He and Diamond had met briefly in Atlanta the week before, and it was obvious Diamond was pulling out all the stops to recruit Flame to his team. In Atlanta, he openly invited Flame to partake in his luxurious lifestyle.
Diamond was balling on another level. He had Rolls (plural), Ferrari Enzos, a Bugatti Veyron, Maybach, and a Pagani Huayra. He owned homes, condos, townhouses, mansions, and estates in various states. And he had influence in the city. They were touting him as the king of New York City and he was extending his long arm to Flame.
Diamond had arranged for Flame to use his Maybach while he was in the city. Although Flame had a small apartment in Harlem and a Bentley GT to cruise the city in, being under Diamond’s wing was a lot better. If he wanted to let Flame skate around the city on a half mil, Flame was not going to refuse.
Diamond’s Maybach met Flame at JFK and shot him to his apartment in Manhattan. He had copped the big-boy apartment in New York because most of his fashion interests were centered there. Oh, he still had his homes in Carolina, but since his fashion headquarters was there, he decided to boss-up and rent something befitting a man of his stature.
Flame had a full day lined up. He had to meet with his business manager, Amin, to discuss Diamond’s proposal in detail. Then he was supposed to meet with Diamond. Next, it was on to ABP’s New York office to meet with Qwess.
At noon, Flame opened his door for Amin. He took a seat in the front room while Flame finished getting ready. Amin was actually the financial guru for ABP, but since he’d served Flame so well over the years, he enlisted him to help pursue his other ventures also.
“Yo, I can’t believe Diamond want to fuck with you,” Amin yelled from the front. Ever since Flame told him about the offer he had been acting like a straight groupie. He was riding Diamond’s dick harder than Sasha.
“Why wouldn’t he? Our shit hot.”
“I know, but I’m saying . . .”
Just like a hater, Flame thought. He wasn’t expecting Amin to be all in on his new allegiance to Diamond, he just needed him to advise him on the details. Fuck what he thought.
Dirty Music Page 4
