She returned his smile. “I’m real good.”
He let the metal detection wand dangle at his side. “Are you here for the dance contest?” His long dreads danced as he nodded to a group of women in a shorter line to her right. “If so, you need to take your fine self over to that line.”
“No, I’m just here to kick it and have a drink.”
“Too bad.” He lazily waved the wand over her tits and waist-line. “I have no doubt you would bring the house down.”
“Thanks, baby.”
“Where you from? Texas? I’m diggin’ that country accent,” he said as she attempted to walk past him.
“ No, Suga; I’m from Jacksonville, Florida.”
He stepped aside, smiling. “Is that right? I didn’t know they grew ’em sexy like you down there!”
Whew! Made it! After giving him a wink, she entered the packed club. It only took three minutes for her to spot her prey. There tossing back a shot of brown alcohol at the bar was King Gee. The overwhelming urge to draw Baby, run over and slit his throat was awful hard to resist. Calm down, girl…stick to your plan.
I’m glad he finally took his scary-ass home, Darius thought as he watched Tyrone get in his car and leave. He flopped down on the overstuffed bronze sofa and finished off his fifth beer, leaned his head back and watched the ceiling fan overhead spin. I can’t afford to let this shit drag on any further. It’s time to up the stakes.
He got up, staggered over to the octagon-shaped mahogany kitchen table and picked up the disposable cell phone he used to communicate with Tyrone. I’ll get that bitch’s attention. He burped, then called Trenda’s cell phone number. “Look here, you no-good ho, I’m through playin’ games with you. Unless you want me to do your parents like I did that fool Diamond and your crazy roommate, I suggest you return this call by tomorrow, noon. I am pretty damn tired of you ignoring my calls. Remember; I better hear from or see you by noon. Bitch.” After tagging the call as urgent, he sent the message and hung up. A drunken grin filled his face. “Ignore me now and see what happens!”
Fifty
The ratio of men to women in Fats had to be at least three-to-one. The turnout for their amateur pole dancer contest was always standing room only. Trenda bounced off numerous people as she worked her way to the far end of the bar King Gee was leaning on.
The men howled and whistled as the DJ introduced the first amateur dancer of the night. As the tall, ebony Amazon wrapped her luscious legs around the pole, Trenda beckoned the bulky Asian bartender with her finger. “What can I get you?”
Over the cranked-up sound of “ Siempre Hay Esperanza” by Sade—a stripper national anthem—Trenda leaned in so the bartender could hear her request. “Can you tell me what that sexy man in the pinstripe suit is drinkin’?”
The bartender smirked. “Oh, you mean King Gee? He is drinking his usual; Remy Martin, Louis the XIII cognac.”
Trenda fished her bankroll out of her pocket, smiled and winked at the bartender. “Send him a double shot on me.”
Sometimes she was surprised by her own coolness under pressure. It was a survival skill she honed by living constantly on the edge of danger. The bartender went to the top shelf for the bottle of Louis the XIII. She plastered a fake smile on her face as the bartender tapped King Gee on the shoulder, handed him the glass and pointed her way. That’s right, muthafucka. Bring your ass down here so we can handle our business.
After taking a sip of his drink, King Gee grinned, tapped one of his homeboys on the shoulder and whispered something in his ear. His friend gazed at Trenda, nodded his head, returned King Gee’s grin and bumped fists with him. He adjusted the lapel of his “look-at-me” suit and made his way to Trenda. “The King is pleased by your gift, princess,” he said as he took her hand and kissed it. “How did I earn this, sexy?”
Trenda almost threw up in her mouth as he took her hand in his sweaty hand. He smelled as though he had on cognac-scented cologne. The only person who eclipsed the venomous hate she had for King Gee was Darius. “Game just recognized game, baby.” She could tell by his bloodshot eyes and slightly slurred speech that he’d had several drinks. “I heard about you all the way back in Jacksonville.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Is that right? What’s ya name, baby girl?”
Confident he didn’t recognize her, she smiled and took a step closer to him. “Cleopatra.”
He took a step back and measured her with his eyes. “You got the goods, Cleo, and that country accent is hot as a muthafucka. You dancin’ tonight?”
Trenda gave him a seductive look, then leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Look, King, I ain’t come all the way out here to bullshit. I wanna be down in your kingdom. Why don’t you take me out to your car so I can lace you with some of this Southern head game?”
His eyes and dick bulged. He downed the last of his drink and set the glass on the bar. “Ohhh, I see…well, I think I will audition you.”
Taking her hand, he led her through the crowd and out the exit door. The light breeze blew a mixture of alcohol and his cologne up her nose. I swear if this muthafucka grabs my ass one more time, I’m gonna slice him open right here!
A black-and-yellow sign that read “Smile, you’re being videotaped!” caught her attention as they approached his car. She pointed the sign out to him. I’ll be goddamned! I didn’t see this sign the night I cut his top. That must be how he found out it was me. “Hey, daddy, let’s pull around the corner; I ain’t into givin’ free shows.”
“You sharp. I likes that.” He opened the passenger door for her.
I wonder how much this new top cost him, she thought with a smirk on her face. I bet he had to re-cover these leather seats, too. Listening to him sing along with the new Too Short song playing on his CD player—at an excruciating volume—was sheer torture. As they drove around the corner, half a block away from where she had parked her car, she pointed. “There you go, park right there between those two big rigs, Suga.”
“Good call,” he said as they parked behind the Bay Area Imports auto dealership. The space between a pair of their car carriers was just big enough for the Saab to fit between. Also, as Trenda noticed, the streetlight above them was blown out. He reached over and rubbed her tits. “Yeah…come here and work ya work, baby.”
She took his hands and smiled. “Wait…let’s change seats. I don’t want you breakin’ your knees on the steering wheel as I bless you with these lips.”
As soon as he got out, Trenda quickly pulled Baby from under her wig and stuck it in her back pocket. The wake from a passing tractor-trailer hauling a container to the Port of Oakland rocked the car as it drove past them. “I’ll be right there, Cleo,” he said while pissing on the front tire of the truck behind them.
“Hurry up, Suga…I’m gettin’ hungry. Come feed me.” She flicked Baby open and stuck it down between the driver’s seat and the center console. Bring yo’ ass on!
Once back inside, he took off his jacket and tossed it in the backseat. He then turned into an octopus. His hands swarmed her body. “Yeah, yeah…I might have to get some of this country pussy, too.”
Easing his hands off of her, she forced herself to place her hand on his forehead. “Lay back and let Cleopatra do her job.”
The sound of him unzipping his pants made her nauseous. “A’ight, go ’head and show Daddy what you got.”
She unbuttoned his shirt. “Mmmmmm, I wanna lick my way from your neck to your dick, baby.”
“Do yo thang, girl,” he said as he reclined the seat so he was practically lying flat.
Summoning up all her willpower, she kissed the side of his chocolate neck. He closed his eyes in ecstasy as she wrapped a hand around his stiffness and slowly stroked his knob. Even though he does have a nice-sized dick, no way in the fuckin’ world would I put my mouth close to it for this fool.
Unfortunately for King Gee, he made a wrong move, which sped up the inevitable. “Bitch, don’t play me; I can jack my own dick off.” He put hi
s hand on the back of her head and tried to force her down. “Use ya fuckin’ mouth!”
“Get your hands off my fuckin’ head!” Before he could react, Trenda grabbed Baby, pointed it just below the left side of his rib-cage and used both hands to push it in and upward into his heart.
His hands immediately fell as his life ended. His face didn’t have time to register pain he died so swiftly. Fuming with anger, she yanked Baby out of his lifeless body; with the quick death of the heart, only a couple of drops of blood leaked from the wound.
She used his jacket to clean the blood off Baby. A second tractor-trailer flew by, rocking the car and snapping Trenda out of her anger-filled hypnosis. Time to get the fuck outta here! After making sure the coast was clear, she used his jacket to wipe her prints off every place she could think of that she touched. Once done, she used the jacket as a glove to open the door and got out. She tossed the jacket back inside and used her hip to close the door.
As she walked away from the crime scene, she folded Baby up and tucked it into her back pocket. “Come out, come out!” she said as she removed the brown contacts from her eyes, tossed them onto the ground and crushed them. She then snatched the wig off and stuffed it into the gutter opening behind the big rig behind the Saab.
The knot on her head ached as she did her best to casually walk the half-block to her car. Whew! Now let me change clothes… she opened the trunk, opened her Travelin’ Bag and removed her pink sweatsuit. After changing clothes in the backseat, she started the car. I need to get rid of this black outfit. A few blocks away, she spotted a small church on her right side. In front, there was a hand-painted sign that said, “Help us, help the less fortunate. Cash and clothing donations gratefully accepted.”
“I must be trippin’ hard,” she said after the hair stood up on the back of her neck as she tossed her outfit—including the pumps—into the large plastic drum on the porch of the church. “I need to calm down, ditch this car and get the fuck outta town.”
She almost had a coronary as the church bell gonged, announcing it was half past ten. She couldn’t shake the eerie feeling she felt walking away from the church. It felt as if a thousand pairs of eyes were watching her. Quit trippin’! Nobody saw you; you ain’t wanted by the law—ain’t no law in leavin’ a hospital that I ever heard of. Nobody knows your real name…shit!
Nurse Gloria.
Nah, she ain’t the kind that would snitch me out. Trenda did her damnedest to convince herself everything was cool as she got in her stolen car and drove off.
It worked.
For a minute.
Fifty-One
For each man’s ways are plain to the Lord’s sight; all their paths he surveys; By his own iniquities the wicked man will be caught, in the meshes of his own sin he will be held fast; He will die from lack of discipline, through the greatness of his folly he will be lost.
—PROVERBS 5:21-23
While listening to the threatening voicemail left by Darius, Trenda noticed the changing signal light ahead of her too late. The yellow light changed to red well before her front end entered the intersection. Her blood turned to ice as she looked to her left and into the eyes of a pair of Oakland Police officers, in a squad car, which sat between two other cars, preparing to make a left turn.
“Oh fuck!” she said as she saw the blue and red lights atop the cop car come on. “No! No!” she yelled while looking in her rear view mirror. The cops made their way out from between the other cars and made a U-turn—heading her way.
Instead of panicking, her survival instincts kicked in. I have gotta get rid of Baby! Her heart broke as she made a quick right turn, reached in her bag, grabbed the knife and flung it out the window, into a grassy, vacant lot to her left. Ten seconds later, the cop car sped around the corner in her direction.
A strange calmness settled over her as she realized she was busted. Like a drowning man, her life flashed before her eyes. The reality of doing some serious jail time made her wish Raven hadn’t intervened when that cement truck was heading her way. “I am so fucked…” She pulled the car to the curb. If I was in Baltimore, I would have made these fools chase me—but I don’t know my way around here good enough to even try to run.
After shining the bright spotlight into her car from behind, both cops got out and approached. Trenda leaned her head back against the headrest and waited.
Well, here we go, she thought as the cop with the thick blond moustache stopped at her window. “Hello, ma’am; do you know why I stopped you?”
“No.” The light from his partner’s flashlight caught her attention as it stopped on the broken glass on the passenger seat and floor, then on the dangling ignition switch. “What did I do?”
After a short conversation with his partner, over the roof of the car, he placed his hand on the butt of his pistol. “Please step out the car, ma’am.”
Fifty-Two
“She hasn’t said a word since she was arrested her last night,” Sergeant Milken said as he and Detective Winslow observed Trenda via camera in the holding tank. “She definitely acts like this isn’t her first time behind bars.”
Detective Winslow rubbed the gray, five-o’clock-shadow on his chin. “Yup, Ms. Fuqua is no stranger to the penal system. I just got off the phone with the Baltimore P.D.; they would kill or die to have us extradite her back there.”
“You gonna give her to them?”
Detective Winslow picked up his cup of coffee and sipped the black elixir. “Hell, I might as well; with the current budget crisis this city is in, it would save us money.”
Sergeant Milken stuffed his hands into his pockets. “What about the Langford murder? Have you been able to connect Ms. Fuqua to the killing?”
“Nah, there was definitely a third party involved. There was no way Trenda could have shot her. There are plenty of witnesses that recall seeing her behind the reservation counter of the Waters Edge Hotel minutes before the murder happened.”
“How come Baltimore PD wants her so bad?”
“They need her testimony in a big Internal Affairs investigation. They need Trenda to testify so they can put away a suspected bad cop. Plus her parole officer is anxious to get her off the streets for violating her parole by crossing state lines—not to mention stealing a car.”
They watched as Trenda, in her orange jail-issued jumpsuit, lay on her back with her arm over her eyes. Sergeant Milken checked his watch. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. We need to save what jail cells we have left for more serious criminals—like whoever murdered our friend, ‘King Gee’ last night.”
“I can’t say I’m surprised someone finally got to him—he had more than enough enemies.” Detective Winslow walked over and turned off the monitor. “I’ll get in touch with the city prosecutor and suggest they let her off with time served and hand her over to Baltimore P.D.”
“No disrespect but I wanna talk to my lawyer before I make any kind of statements, if you don’t mind,” Trenda said as she sat across from the soft-eyed brunette district attorney.
The D.A. closed the folder of information she had on Trenda and pushed back from the gray metal table. “Well, that is your right, Ms. Fuqua,” the chubby, but stylish woman said as she stood and offered Trenda her pale hand. “Good luck.” She turned to the guard at the door. “Please allow Ms. Fuqua to use a phone before taking her back to her cell.”
“Will do.” The heavy-set Mexican prison guard escorted Trenda out of the interrogation room and to a room with a bank of telephones. The nearly six-foot-tall woman looked at Trenda. “Make it quick.”
Ignoring the masculine-looking prison guard, Trenda dialed the number for Dennis Wilcox, Attorney at Law. “Well, well, well! Where have you been, my sexy redheaded friend? I have been looking for you with a flashlight in the daytime!”
The excitement in his voice told her just how bad he missed their monthly hook-ups. I bet you have missed the way I used to put on a finger condom and suck your dick as I put my finger up your ass. I ain
’t ever heard a man cum so hard or squeal like you do. Trenda turned her back on the guard. “Hey, Denny…I’m locked up in Santa Rita jail out here in California.”
“California? What the hell?”
“Yeah, I got caught up in some drama…they are—”
“Hold it! What have you told them?”
“Nothin’…I wanted to talk to you first.”
“Good. Let me make a few calls and see what’s going on. In the meantime, just chill, okay?”
“Yeah. I heard they are gonna be shipping me back to Baltimore in a few days.”
“Ahh, shit…okay. Sit tight and keep quiet. I’ll be in touch with you soon.”
Friday, four days later, Trenda found herself sitting between two Baltimore detectives on a flight to BWI Airport.
The last voicemail she heard from Darius still disturbed her. I can’t believe that muthafucka had the nerve to threaten my family! Some unexpected turbulence jolted the plane as they made their approach. I don’t give a fuck what it takes, I’m gonna find a way to kill his ass.
The scowl she wore ever since being arrested gave her a serious “don’t fuck with me” look. After realizing she was looking at a minimum of five years in prison, a boiling vat of hate-flavored venom brewed inside her. After the plane landed, the white detective stood in front of her as the black one re-handcuffed her. “All right, Ms. Fuqua, let’s go. And do not stop moving until we tell you to.”
“What in the fuck?” Trenda said as a mass of camera flashes exploded inside the terminal. A flock of news reporters screamed and jockeyed for position, trying to get a statement from or picture of Trenda. “What is this all about?”
The black detective gripped her arm harder and hurried her along. “You will find out once we get to Baltimore City Jail. Right now, move!”
Outside, an equally large wall of reporters surrounded the black van she was being ushered to. Once inside, the tinted windows allowed her to witness the circus up close. This is bananas! Did I just hear one of them ask me how long I have been having an affair with Darius?
Sins of a Siren Page 26
