Heartless

by Al-Saadiq Banks

  She’s been thinking about her decision making. She’s not sure if she did the right thing leaving her only witness, Breezy, alive. She’s dealing with the outcome of leaving a witness, already, and the harm they can do. She’s on the fence about it, not sure if she will have to go back and finish the job.

  She knows Breezy like the back of her hand and knows he’s no dummy. She understands that she may have lost his trust, which means he will always be on point around her from now on. She knows that if she does decide to do it, she will have to be smart about it. She’s already come up with the plan, just in case she has to go that route.

  One thing she knows for certain is an attack on him won’t be easy. She respects his gangster to the fullest. In no way does she take those few tears as a sign of weakness or pain. With Breezy being a master of deception, she views his crying as an act. That could easily be his way of sleepwalking her and attacking her when she least expects it. She’s quite sure that if, by chance, they have to get to it, they both will have to be super creative because they know way too much about each other.

  As she’s caught up in her thoughts, she looks up to find a young, preppy Asian man staring at her over the machine. She flashes him an intimidating look to scare him off but to no avail. She rolls her eyes with attitude. She peeks under the slots and looks at his feet. His custom trousers fit perfectly over his wingtip shoes. His custom-made shirt is tucked neatly, exposing a slight hint of his Ferragamo belt. Storm can’t help but notice the Cartier Roadster timepiece that is on his wrist. She’s sort of impressed with his sense of fashion.

  She continues on with the machine, and through her peripheral, she sees him making his way over to her. She gets agitated at the thought of it. He stops in front of her, and she ignores his presence, hoping he will get the hint and just leave.

  She looks at him with the coldest look possible. “Can I help you?” she asks rudely.

  He stands there, trying to force the words out of his mouth and it shows. “You’re beautiful,” he says with a heavy Asian dialect.

  “Thank you,” she replies even more rudely. Still he stands there as if he has more to say. “OK, you said that. Now what?”

  “You work here?” he whispers.

  “Work here? What you mean? You see me sitting here gambling like everybody else in here. Why would you ask me some dumb shit like that?”

  He’s quite taken aback at her response. Her beauty and her language don’t seem to match. He was expecting something totally different and a lot more pleasant. “I apologize. What I meant to ask is, are you married?”

  “What the fuck does that matter?”

  “If you’re not, I would like to call you sometimes and maybe get to know you.”

  She laughs in his face disrespectfully. “Know me for what?”

  She removes the ego, and she quickly recognizes his language. He obviously thinks she’s a working girl. “You can’t get to know me, but I have some friends that would be more than happy to meet you.”

  “But I’m interested in you.”

  Storm pulls out her business card, which has her labeled as an event planner and party promoter. “Here. Take my card, and maybe later I will have one of my friends call you. We can set up a meet and greet event,” she says just in case he’s a cop.

  “But…”

  “But nothing,” she interrupts. “Call me later. Right now, I’m gambling,” she says brushing him off. He walks away reading from her card. He tucks it safely in his jacket pocket.

  * * *

  Meanwhile, Toy has been occupied with the same client all this time. She’s brought him a great deal of luck, and he’s compensated her well. She’s scored five orange chips and one purple chip for doing absolutely nothing. That is a total of fifty-five hundred, and all he’s done is ran his fingers through her hair and palm gripped her butt a few times. Overall, it’s been easy money so far. Seems like all he really wants is an ear to listen to him brag about himself. She sits there, listening attentively, pretending to be interested.

  At this present moment, they are indulging in dinner at Morton’s Steakhouse inside the Caesar’s casino. She’s sure that she’s on the desert menu. The man huffs as he sucks the fat off the bone. Toy stares over the table in amazement, as well as disgust. She conceals the disgust with a false smile just not to rub him the wrong way.

  “Pretty lady, you made me the luckiest man in the world tonight,” he says, staring over the rib bone. “And tonight I will repay you by making you the luckiest girl in the whole wide world.”

  “I’m feeling quite lucky already, just being in your presence,” she says stroking his ego. She runs her bare foot up his leg while staring seductively into his eyes. She plants her toes onto his crotch and feels his erection. She rubs her foot along the length of his manhood and with her toes; she teases the tip. He damn near busts through the tight trousers. She flashes a seductive wink. “Lucky me.”

  * * *

  In Newark, caution tape surrounds the intersection. Police and detectives swarm the area as the coroner’s van pulls up. The unmarked police car pulls up to the tape, and both doors bust open simultaneously. The female detective leads the way toward the area where the crashed car is on the sidewalk.

  “What’s the story?” the female detective asks the detective who is handling the case.

  “A double homicide. Apparently a brother and sister. The sister was just released on bail and not even a mile away… this,” he says, pointing to the car. “Seven gunshots to the head. The driver, two to the head and one to the chest.”

  The detectives peek into the car at the two dead bodies. A weird feeling takes over as the female detective peeks in. “What’s her name?”

  The man hands over Kirah’s jail release papers. The female detective reads over the paperwork with a solemn look. She hands the paperwork over to her partner, not able to say a word. The partner recognizes the name immediately. They stare into each other’s eyes, both thinking the same thing.

  24

  Atlantic City

  3 a.m.

  Storm sits in the luxurious hotel suite, laid back on the couch, her mind heavy. Sitting before her on edge of the coffee table is the preppy Asian. Hours ago she left the casino and went to her room to get some rest. Sleep never happened because the only thing on her mind was Breezy. Leaving him alive is haunting her.

  As she tossed and turned her phone rang, and it was the Asian. She explained to him that her girls were occupied at the time, but still he wouldn’t let up. His persistence irked her dearly, but it made her think of the opportunity that she could be missing. For all she knows, he could be super wealthy and she could be passing up on the chance of a lifetime.

  He stares at her with a deep lust that is uncomfortable to her. He looks from her eyes to her breasts with shame. It’s as if his eyes are locked onto them. Her low-cut blouse gives him just enough of a glimpse of her cleavage to make him want to see more.

  She decides to play his little game with him. “So, what is that you want from me?” she asks as she pops the top button of the blouse allowing him to see more.

  “I just want to talk,” he claims.

  “Oh, is that all you want? My time costs money.”

  “How much?” he asks.

  “Depends on what you want to talk about and how much time it takes to talk about it.”

  “I don’t know… maybe an hour.”

  “An hour is a long time.” She decides to test the water. “That will cost you five hundred.”

  Without flinching the Asian reaches to his right and grabs a purple chip. He hands it to her with his hand trembling. She tosses the chip in the air and catches it, clenching a tight fist around it. “Let’s talk. What you want to talk about?”

  “What is your name?” he asks.

  “We can talk about anything but my name. What else would you
like to talk about?”

  “How about we talk about how beautiful you are?”

  “Beauty is overrated,” she says, shutting him down. The man looks closely at the shiny coat of perspiration which is building on her breast, making them look like perfectly glazed honey dew melons. She looks down and notices it as well. With a tissue, she dabs the sweat trails that seep into the crease of her cleavage line.

  Drool fills the corner of his mouth, and he can’t help but to stare. “Snap out of it,” she says with a smile.

  “Sorry, it’s just that your breasts are beautiful.”

  “So, I’ve been told. Would you like to see them?” He can’t believe his ears. He nods his head up and down quickly before she changes her mind. “That will cost you a thousand,” she says with a straight face.

  With no hesitation, he grabs two chips and hands them over to her. Slowly she unloosens the buttons of her blouse, seducing him along the way. His heart pounds faster with each button opening. The more skin he sees, the more he wants to see. There her breast sit perfectly in their cups. Her butterscotch nipples peek over nosily. She allows his excitement to build before she grips the bra from the bottom and flips it over the top of her breasts. They bounce vibrantly before sitting firmly.

  He stares at them in awe. The drool that filled the corners of his mouth now drips down onto his chin. Storm is enjoying this little game with him, yet she keeps the same face of nonchalance. He can’t resist the urge to touch them. He reaches out to grab them, but she grabs hold of his hands. “What are you doing?”

  “Sorry,” he says, lowering his head in shame like a disobedient dog. “I couldn’t help it.”

  “I thought you just wanted to talk,” she says, still holding his hands. “I should let you touch them.”

  A spark of excitement brightens up in his eyes. “Please?” he begs.

  She is well aware that she has him right where she wants him. “Fifteen hundred and you can touch them.” She lets one hand go, so he can grab the chips and he does. He hands her the chips, and she grabs hold of his hand again. She slowly guides his hands and places them onto her breast. She applies pressure onto his hands allowing him to get a full grip.

  Her skin feels like silk under the palm of his hands. He squeezes them gently while rubbing his thumbs over her nipples. Her nipples become erect and as hard as steel. He removes his thumbs to enjoy the beauty of her hardened nipples. Her nipples aren’t the only thing hard right now. The little bump in the crotch of his trousers indicates that.

  “Not like that,” she says. “Like this,” she whispers as she teaches him how to caress them. Just when it gets really good to him, she stops. She removes his hands. “That’s it.”

  He’s panting with a look of perversion in his eyes. He wants more. Shamelessly, he places one hand over his crotch to hide his erection. Without realizing he strokes himself. “You horny?” she asks.

  He nods his head up and down. “You want me to touch it?”

  “Yes, please,” he whispers.

  She shakes her head. “Nah, but you can touch it.”

  He quickly unzips his pants and fumbles inside. Right before he takes his first stroke she speaks again. “That’s gonna cost you twenty-five hundred.”

  A distasteful look plasters his face. “That’s too much,” he says.

  “Okay, then,” she says as she pulls her bra over her boobs. He feels like his lifeline has been cut.

  “Okay, okay.” He grabs hold of the chips and hands them to her. She quickly lifts the bra for his pleasure. She gives him the head-nod to go on and he does. With no shame, he pleasures himself by stroking and pulling on his shrimp egg roll.

  His eyes are glued onto her breasts hypnotically. He can’t refrain himself any longer. He does away with the shame and continues whacking off like a maniac. He quickly erupts and makes a mess all over his trousers.

  She stands up before he’s even done. The show is over. She covers the beauties with her bra and buttons her blouse. She dumps the chips into her pocket and walks away, leaving him sulking in ejaculation. She feels great satisfaction in knowing that she still has the power to have a man eating out of her hand and without touching him nor barely letting him touch her. She feels like she’s mastered the game.

  25

  Montclair, New Jersey

  The Next Day

  While everyone has been busy at working on Storm’s defense, the detectives are busy working on her capture and conviction. The detectives stand at the door of a beautiful one-family home, on the quiet, suburban block. They’ve knocked on the door, awaiting a response. The door opens and a ravishing middle-aged woman stands at the door. Her beauty is toned down by her moderate, homely dress. She looks like she could be in her mid-thirties, but her granny style of dress makes her look so much older.

  “Yes, may I help you?”

  “Mrs. Hill?” the female detective asks.

  “Yes,” the woman replies, not having a clue who they are or what they want.

  “Newark Police. We have a few questions for you.”

  Her brows connect in confusion. “Pertaining to?”

  “Your daughter.”

  “Oh, Lord. Is she okay?” the woman asks with a saddened look on her face.

  “That we don’t know. That’s what we are here to try to find out from you.”

  The woman shakes her head in pity. Her husband, a tall and husky handsome man, appears and stands right at her side. “Your guess is as good as mine,” the woman says. “We haven’t seen or heard from that girl in six years.”

  The female detective stands in disbelief. This seems quite odd to her. “Six years?”

  The man steps up and takes over the conversation. “What has that girl gotten herself into?”

  “A huge mess, sir,” the female detective says. “At this point, we would like to question her about a few murders.”

  The man’s mouth drops wide open while the woman begins crying. The man consoles her, not knowing exactly what to say. “Listen, we have done the best we can possibly do for her. Her lifestyle, we don’t condone, but she has a mind of her own. We didn’t raise her like this. We have another child who is nothing like her. Never been in trouble in his life.

  Her brother is being ordained to be a pastor. She’s the black sheep of the family.” He begins to sob as well. “I’m a pastor, with my own church. My wife here is an evangelist. We are a God-fearing family. We named her Angelica, a biblical name. That Storm name she’s given herself ain’t nothing but the devil.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, sir,” the female detective says with sincerity.

  “We have done everything we could to keep her on the right track.”

  “I understand, sir. It happens, and sometimes it’s out of our control. I’m sorry to bring this to your doorstep, but can you lead us to her? I’m trying to protect her for your sake. I would hate to come back here with news that will further break your heart.”

  The man shakes his head in despair. “We know nothing. We haven’t seen or heard from her in years as my wife has stated.” He pats his wife’s back, consoling her.

  “Think of anything that could possibly help us,” the detective suggests. “A last known address… anything?”

  The man and woman lift up from their sobbing. The look in their eyes indicates that they may have a lead.

  * * *

  Storm is going on about her daily business, without a clue as to how close they are on her heels. She’s too busy moving onto her next business adventure to allow the thoughts of her possible demise to slow her down. Storm sits in the passenger’s seat of the rented caravan while Mud sits in the driver’s seat. She drops a duffle bag onto his lap. “You sure you can handle the job?”

  He looks at her with a look of agitation. “Come on now. I got this.”

  “Cool, just checking. That’s f
ive grand right there. Gas, toll, and eat money, and the thirty-five hundred I promised you for the job.”

  Mud opens the bag, and on top of the money are two twin Glock 9s with extended clips. In the corner of the bag, there is the tiniest gun he’s ever seen. The Secret Semmerling 5-shot .45 is small enough to get lost in the bag. It fits right in the palm of a hand. He looks at the little beauty in admiration before taking the neatly stacked money from the bag. He quickly zips it up.

  She reaches over to give him dap. “You be safe. I will be calling to check on you every hour on the hour.” She exits the vehicle and walks toward her car. Mud pulls off, heading for his destination, while Storm is onto hers. Her girls are waiting for her at the airport. They are on their way to the money.

  26

  Orlando, Florida

  Two Days Later

  Storm and her girls are in the hotel room preparing themselves for this big weekend. Storm sits on the dresser while Toy and Wendy sit on the foot of the bed on opposite sides of the newest addition to the team, Jazz. Jazz is from the same cookie cutter mold as Toy and Wendy when it comes to beauty. She’s even more gorgeous than them and, of course, high yellow in complexion. Her long, silky, natural hair against her smooth complexion gives her a more exotic look. Not only is she more beautiful than the other two, she’s also more polished and classy.

  One would think Storm is prejudice and only likes light skin, pretty women because that is all she seems to pick to be on her team but only she knows that isn’t the case. She’s prejudice for sure, but contrary to one’s belief, she chooses those complexioned women because she hates them not because she loves them. She despises them so much that she enjoys the opportunity to dominate, humiliate, and manipulate them into doing whatever it is she wants them to do. In her sick mind, it’s like her payback to all the women who look like them and think they are God’s gift to the universe.

  Jazz, which is short for Jasmine, is Wendy’s best friend. Her story is completely different from Wendy’s, though. She’s a more uptight, bourgeois woman who is a complete stranger to this world. She’s a wife and mother of two children who never had to do anything for herself until her husband was incarcerated a few months ago. Her only reason for considering this is to fend for herself and her children.