by D.L. Cox
“It’s in the genes,” Tess joked.
“Girl, where have you been?” Tarsha asked with a raised brow.
“Chained up in a basement somewhere getting tortured,” Tess stated bluntly.
Tarsha laughed and waved Tess’ story off. “You still so silly.”
“So,” Tess said. “Am I still in the preferred customer’s club?”
“Of course,” Tarsha assured. “You’re a lifetime member.”
Tarsha went behind the reception desk and typed something into the computer. Then she grabbed an electronic key from a drawer and passed it to Tess. “I got you the best suite in the house.” She turned to the receptionist and told her, “If you need me, hit me on my mobile.”
Tarsha took Tess to her room. The room was top of the line like Tarsha promised. There was a big screen plasma TV and a fully-stocked bar in the living room; and a Jacuzzi in the bedroom. They sat on the living room sofa, and Tarsha bit her bottom lip and stared at Tess skeptically.
“We thought you were dead,” Tarsha said.
Tension filled the air.
“I’m not,” Tess pointed out. “I’m alive and well.”
Tarsha frowned. “Your husband has held us hostage since you’ve been gone, working us like slaves.”
“Oh,” Tess said absent mindedly. “You’re working with him?”
“For him,” Tarsha corrected. “We tried to break the little business arrangement we had made with you, being that you were gone, but he made it clear that we are basically stuck for life. Greg thought maybe he found out about—”
“How is Greg?” Tess asked anxiously.
Tarsha shook her head. “He’s not that twenty-one-year-old kid anymore. He was a little disgruntled with the situation you left us in, but he survived. We survived.”
Tess nonchalantly said, “But you’re making money right?”
Tarsha snapped, “You’re husband is a tyrant! It’s not just distributing drugs anymore. He always has an errand for us to run, pick this up, drop this off. It’s like we’re on call twenty-four seven. Then he’s always got these creepy boys with him, and he has a serious problem with putting his hands on people. He better be lucky he travels with a mini army. It’s like you sold us into slavery!”
“Calm down,” Tess warned. “I’m sorry I put ya’ll out there like that, but there was stuff going on with me and my people that you couldn’t begin to understand. Things are still not straightened out yet. In fact, you can’t even tell my husband you saw me. I don’t expect you to understand what I’m going through, but you’re the closet thing I have to a friend on this entire planet. Instead of focusing on how I left you, try to focus on how messed up you and your brother were when I found you. You’d be living like bums if it wasn’t for me. Don’t forget that!”
Tarsha lowered her head in shame. “You’re right, I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay,” Tess said and hugged Tarsha. “Just do me a favor and let Greg know I’m here. I’ll be down at the Blackjack tables.”
“I’ll do that,” Tarsha promised and left the room.
***
Music blared from the cherry red Porsche as Greg Smith maneuvered into the valet parking lane of the Taj Mahal. He got out the car, leaving the engine running and the music playing. He stood at six-two with broad shoulders and a baldhead that highlighted his thick eyebrows.
Greg nodded at an approaching valet parker and told him, “Don’t readjust my seat.”
The valet handed Greg a ticket. “Come on Greg, you keep telling me the same bull. Your baldheaded ass is like six-four. I’m only five-seven. If I don’t move up your seat, I’ll mess around and crash your whip,” he said and hopped in the car and pulled off.
Greg laughed and tossed the ticket into his back pocket and headed into hotel. Butterflies filled his stomach as he stepped into the lobby. He hadn’t seen Tess in over ten years and he didn’t know what to expect. He still couldn’t believe the call he had received from Tarsha telling him Tess was at the hotel. He remembered waiting for Tess in the lobby ten years earlier. He had been expecting her to deliver seventy kilos of cocaine but she never showed up.
Tess’ little no-show had caused Greg a lifetime of problems. He had more than ten hustlers from all over the East Coast checked into rooms throughout the Taj, and they had all been expecting to receive a shipment of cocaine in the comfort of their rooms before being whisked away by complimentary limousines. The no-hassle distribution service had worked successfully for more than two years, and then Tess just up and disappeared, leaving Greg and Tarsha to deal with the group of disgruntled customers. Tess had put the entire operation at risk. She had been their main supplier. Not to mention their mentor. Greg had been nothing more than a nineteen-year-old two-bit hustler when Tess found him on a street corner and transformed him and his then waitress-of-a-sister Tarsha into major cocaine distributors. With the service in the balance, and worried to death about Tess, Greg and Tarsha did the only thing they could: they reached out to Tess’ so-called husband.
Tess had told them very little about her husband, but she made it clear that he was also her business partner and her benefactor. They figured he would know where she was or at least be able to supply them with what they needed to serve the customers they had waiting. They had been under his iron fist ever since. Once Greg had gotten to see how Tess’ husband operated, he was certain that he had knocked Tess off and made her disappear to take over everything for himself. Learning that Tess was alive and well gave Greg mixed feelings. On the one hand he resented Tess for leaving him and Tarsha for dead. On the other hand he knew he would’ve still been struggling for peanuts on street corners had she not found him. But his real gripe concerned their personal relationship. They had spent every weekend together for two years, and Greg had gotten emotionally attached. He and Tess had agreed they would share nothing but sex, but her disappearance had revealed that he had unconsciously broken their agreement. Now he headed into the Taj Mahal unsure of what to say to her.
He spotted Tarsha standing near the reception desk and walked over to her.
“What you do, fly here?” Tarsha teased.
“Where is she?” Greg asked seriously.
“On the casino floor playing Blackjack,” she informed him.
“Of course,” Greg muttered and walked off.
The casino floor was empty and it didn’t take long for Greg to locate Tess. He spotted her across the room sitting at a Blackjack table with a stack of chips in front of her. He took a deep breath and put his game face on before working his way across the floor, approaching her from behind.
Tess felt his presence as he walked up behind her and didn’t bother turning around. “I didn’t think you were going to show.”
Greg sat beside her. “I could say the same for you.”
Tess bet all her chips on one hand and lost. “I thought you would bring me fortune,” she told Greg. “Oh well,” she exhaled. “Are you coming up to my room or what?”
Greg shot her a look of disgust. “Why should I?”
Tess roughly grabbed his crotch. “Because this bulge popped up the moment you laid eyes on me.” She licked her lips. “I told you from the beginning; it’s all fun and games with me. No devotion. No commitment. No feelings. Fun, games, and plenty of wild sex.”
Greg cut his eyes at the dealer before he responded, “You’re a cold hearted bitch.”
Tess squeezed his crotch. “You still game, or not?”
“What you think?” he chuckled.
Ten minutes later, Greg and Tess stood upstairs in the bedroom stark naked. Greg sat on the floor beside her and rubbed her shoulders. “Why did you drop out of sight like that?” he whispered.
Tess looked into his eyes. “All you need to know is I’m here now. I can’t even promise how long that’s going to last, but that’s the nature of the game. This is the fast life, baby. You gotta take it while yo
u can get it, and don’t shed no tears when you ain’t got it. Man up! You riding or not?”
Greg had to laugh. “You’re really back, huh?”
She kissed him and slowly lowered to the floor.
Chapter Nine
The next morning Tess sat in the back of the limousine and smiled as it pulled away from the Taj Mahal. The visit had been a success. She took care of a ten-year itch that only Greg could scratch and she got to see Tarsha. And she did that without being spotted.
“I’m back,” she said to herself.
She felt rejuvenated. She spent the entire ride back to New York thinking about what she would buy. She had shown Saleena and Izzy the joy of sex and food, now she was determined to introduce them to the ecstasy of shopping. It wasn’t just about buying herself stuff either. She couldn’t wait to buy some fly threads for Izzy. She loved looking at a well dressed and accessorized man. She imagined him wearing Prada, Armani, Gucci, and a nice ring and watch. A wave of excitement swept over her when the limo pulled up to the Plaza Hotel. She understood how fickle a demon’s life could be on earth. She also knew Saleena and Izzy’s plan had little to no chance of being successful. They were in way over their heads and didn’t know it. Still, her escapade with Greg had extinguished her envy and she openly embraced the idea that she liked the renegade couple, as much as someone like her was capable of liking them. She went up to their hotel room and knocked on the door looking forward to showing them a good time before things hit the fan.
Saleena answered the door fully naked. “Hey you,” she greeted.
Tess walked in the room and stopped in her tracks at the sight before her. Izzy sat on the edge of the bed naked eating steak from a plate. The entire bed was covered with plates of half- eaten food and so was the floor. There were even plates of half-eaten food in the bathroom.
“What the hell did you do?” Tess asked.
Saleena shrugged. “You said eat, so we’ve been trying everything on the menu.”
Izzy eyed Tess’ mink. “You look nice.”
“Thanks,” Tess told him. “We’ve got an appointment at one.”
Saleena nodded. “I thought we were going shopping?”
“We are,” Tess replied. “I’ve been out of the fashion loop for ten years. I made an appointment with a stylist who owns a boutique; she’s going to pick out some clothes for us.”
Izzy bit his steak. “This is good.”
Tess sat beside Izzy and snatched a piece of steak from his plate and ate it. “It is good.” She grabbed a half-eaten plate off the bed and dug in. “No use letting it go to waste.”
***
Nat was sound asleep in his bed when someone frantically rang his doorbell. He jumped out of bed and hurried to the door in nothing but his boxers.
“Hold up,” he yelled and swung the door open.
Nat frowned at the sight of Lamont standing in the hall in his bathrobe and slippers.
“What’s up?” Lamont said with a grin. “Were you sleep?”
“Yes,” Nat snapped.
Lamont boldly nudged Nat aside and walked in. “Just kicked a honey out my house. I figured I’d drop by and holla at you.”
Nat shut the door and shook his head. “About what?”
Lamont sat on the couch. “I’m going to see my stylist later today, and I was wondering if you’d like to tag along.”
Nat looked at Lamont like he was crazy. “Stylist?”
“Look,” Lamont said condescendingly. “I own the building, so I’ve seen your financial situation on your lease application. You’re a trust fund baby like me. You got the means. You need to live a little. Stop living in this shell like a turtle.”
“I don’t—” Nat started.
Lamont cut in, “Your clothes are so last season. My stylist will take care of you.”
Nat protested, “I don’t need—”
“It’s settled. Wash your ass, get dressed, and I’ll pick you up in an hour,” Lamont pronounced and strolled out the apartment.
“Fate,” Nat muttered and went into his bedroom.
Nat had spent the last six years as an introvert. He had intentionally avoided making any friends. He had a mission and a purpose, and that didn’t involve personal relationships. It wasn’t until his encounter with Lamont in the hall that he considered the possibility that his anti-social behavior had prevented him from creating an opportunity for the Host to present itself. He suddenly realized that if the Host was living among mankind and learning the ways of mankind, he had better start living among mankind too. Not to mention he didn’t believe in coincidences, and found it no coincidence that Lamont just happened to invite him to a party on the same day he captured his first demon.
He hopped in the shower confident that his new found friend had entered his life for a reason. The hard part would be putting up with Lamont’s obnoxious ways until that reason revealed itself. In the meantime, Nat would play nice and kill time with Lamont while he checked up on the list of names he got from Charles.
***
Izzy and Saleena cleaned up the room and hopped in the shower while Tess ran out to get them some clothes to wear for the day. They were just getting out the shower when Tess returned with several Macy’s bags.
“It’s off the rack,” Tess said and dropped the bags on the bed. “But it’ll do for now. Polo Ralph Lauren is always a safe bet.”
Tess had bought them each a complete Polo ensemble, including Polo down winter jackets.
Saleena dressed and then posed like a model. “How do I look?” she asked Tess.
“Regular,” Tess spat with her nose turned up. “But that’ll change after we meet with the stylist.”
***
It was a little past noon when Lamont and Nat’s limousine pulled onto University Place in the Westside of Manhattan Village. They pulled up in front of a small boutique where a short, pretty, petite lady stood outside with her arms folded across her chest looking upset.
The young lady’s sepia, catlike, slanted eyes narrowed as Lamont and Nat climbed out the limo. “You’re an hour late,” she complained.
“I’m so sorry Sheba,” Lamont said and attempted to hug her.
Sheba knocked his arms away. “You always do this to me!”
“Play nice,” Lamont teased. “Don’t embarrass me in front of my boy.”
Sheba cut her eyes at Nat. “He’s late too,” she snapped.
Nat held up his hands in protest. “I didn’t even know—”
“Save it,” she waved Nat off.
Lamont playfully wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the cheek. “You know I need you Sheba,” he pleaded.
Sheba laughed and broke away from his embrace. “Boy stop.” She pulled out a set of keys and unlocked the boutique’s door. “We have to make this quick because I have an appointment with a new client at one.”
She led them inside. The place was pretty small. It was cluttered with clothing racks filled with designer labels. A variety of designer shoes hung on display on the wall to the right and a variety of expensive designer handbags hung on a display on the wall to the left. The racks on the right side of the room were filled with men’s clothes and the racks on the left side of the room were filled with women’s clothes.
Sheba led them to the right side of the room and pointed at a rack. “Armani here.” She pointed to another rack. “Dolce & Gabana there.” She pointed to another rack. “Tom Ford and Andrew Marc here.” Then she stopped at a rack of suits. “Prada here.”
“Any suggestions?” Lamont asked.
Sheba walked over to the rack with Tom Ford and Andrew Marc. “All my pieces are select, but these are very select.” She looked at Lamont and told him, “For you, Tom Ford.” She pulled a dark blue knit sweater and a pair of jeans from the rack and handed them to Lamont.
Lamont eyed the clothes and smiled. “This is why I pay you
the big bucks.”
Sheba sized Nat up, lingering at his eyes for a moment, and then ran from rack to rack snatching different items. She grabbed a Dolce & Gabana flannel-looking shirt, a pair of Bottega Veneta jeans, and a sporty-looking cap by Christy’s London.
“Here you go,” she told Nat as she handed him the outfit. “You’ll look great in this.”
Nat reluctantly took the clothes. “Thanks, but I—”
“Wait,” Sheba shouted like something was wrong and then ran into a back room.
Lamont watched her disappear and then told Nat, “She likes you.”
Nat was caught off guard. “What?”
“She likes you,” Lamont maintained. “I can tell.”
“You’re crazy,” Nat whispered. “She’s just doing her—”
Sheba hurried back with a dark blue English duffle coat. “It’s by Gloverall,” she told Nat girlishly. “You can get it off rack at Barneys, but I think it would really look good on you.”
“Thanks,” Nat nodded.
Their hands brushed as Sheba handed Nat the coat, and her heart skipped a beat at his touch. It was the strangest thing she had ever felt. She got caught up in his eyes for few seconds and then shook it off. “Okay, so you’re all set for the big party.”
“Not yet,” Lamont said.
Sheba exhaled, “What else do you need, Lamont?”
Lamont patted Nat on the shoulder. “My friend here needs a date.”
She eyed Nat with feigned suspicion. “I thought women had to come alone to your parties so you can get the pick of the litter,” she reminded Lamont.
“Yeah,” Lamont nodded. “But Nat here’s a square. I had to force him to agree to come. I can’t have him moping around ruining the vibe. So I figure you’re a square,” Lamont stopped and turned to Nat. “She’s a real square too. I’ve been trying to bang her for years, but nothing.”
“Excuse me,” Sheba snapped.
“My point is,” Lamont explained. “You two can keep each other company. Who knows, you might actually enjoy yourselves.”
Sheba studied Nat and her eyes betrayed her interest. “It’s not a date,” she said. “But I’ll come.”
