The Dirty Red Series

by Vickie M. Stringer

  Once her wounds began to heal, Red started to miss Q. All of a sudden, she realized she hadn’t heard from him. She knew this wasn’t like him. What was going on?

  Red called Q several times, yet he wouldn’t return her calls. Suddenly it dawned on her. She had to be careful, because for the first time in their relationship, she was losing control. She hated to admit it, but she was losing her influence over Q. She blamed it all on the miscarriage.

  There was no other way, though. In one way, her miscarriage had worked out for the best. Bacon and Q were as opposite as they could be. Even with her Latino genes, she couldn’t justify claiming Bacon’s child as Q’s. Bacon was a tall, dark-skinned, grimy nigga. His skin was ashy black and very smooth. He wore a goatee and had coarse hair that he trained to have waves. Q was a pretty nigga. He was a clean-cut guy with curly hair and dark brown eyes. Red knew deep down that her plan wasn’t going to work. With her luck, the child would probably have come out looking just like Bacon’s grimy ass.

  Red couldn’t think of a way to continue her relationship with Q. Of course, his deciding to be with her was a result of the pregnancy. Red had gotten what she wanted out of Q—some ends. Yet she found herself, in the end, wanting him. She wanted a normal relationship. Q made it all seem so unconditional. Red had sampled his generous love and wanted it to last. Could it be that she had fallen in love?

  Again and again, she mulled over that question. She was trying to finish out her plot without getting too emotionally involved. During her time in the cut, Red started a mental game to make sure she had all her ducks in a row. It was like she was playing chess and her opponents were Q, Bacon, Terry, her mom and Jerome.

  Shit, she was the Queen. As time continued to pass, her plot became even more intricate. Everyone was about to get what was coming to them and the Queen was going to prevail in the end.

  • • •

  The sun shining through the window awoke her from her sleep. Terry didn’t want the moment to end. Her ego began to talk to her.

  Terry heard Mekel in the shower and decided to make her move. Removing everything except her shirt, Terry walked into the bathroom. As Mekel stepped from the shower, Terry, ass exposed, greeted him. Instead of handing him the towel that lay on top of the toilet she hugged him, drying his torso off with her shirt.

  “Terry, look. This is not why I let you stay. Let’s just keep it decent.”

  Although the words sounded like rejection, Terry knew just what he liked. And whether Mekel wanted to admit it or not, he liked how freaky Terry was.

  In Mekel’s mind, he planned to make a family with Kera. At least that was what his head told him. But when all his blood left his brain and went to his other head, well, the rest, as they say, is history.

  The sight of Terry deep throating his dick in the mirror turned him on. It was better than watching a porn flick. Morning sex was something that men loved, and Terry knew this, particularly about Mekel. It was no secret that he started off his day by masturbating. He told himself it prevented prostate cancer. Whatever made him feel better.

  Terry was a pro with her head game. Literally, she had the glide just right, the rhythm down pat and she made it all seem effortless. Terry knew when to go slow, speed up and take him to the climax.

  Mekel wanted a woman in the daytime, but Terry was all the freak he needed at night. It had been several weeks since he had gotten his nut off, and he was horny as hell. During Kera’s pregnancy, Mekel hadn’t touched her. Before Terry knew anything, he was fucking her mouth like it was a pussy.

  Mekel nutted in her mouth, pulling slightly back to continue nutting on the side of her face, all while he watched himself in the mirror. The shit turned him on. Mekel had never seen himself in action. He definitely didn’t want to make a video, so the chance to see himself surrounded by mirrors did something to his self-esteem. He turned into stud man.

  Mekel ripped Terry’s shirt from her body and the passion electrified the room. Mekel bent Terry over the sink, facedown, and proceeded to bang her back out, looking for nut number two.

  Mekel kept looking at himself and Terry’s pussy felt real good to him. He didn’t have a care in the world. He knew Terry couldn’t get pregnant. He knew that Terry knew it was over, and he was with Kera. Plus, he knew that he could get away with fucking Terry however he wanted. Too much power wasn’t always a good thing. As far as men were concerned, carefree sex was next to new pussy.

  Collapsing on top of her, Mekel let out one final grunt, and then he stepped back into the shower. As he exited, Terry took a shower, wanting to clean up as well. As the water trickled down her body, she noticed her pussy was somewhat sore. It was all worth it, though, she thought. She smiled as she remembered the pleasure that Mekel was experiencing. She just knew that Kera couldn’t do it like that.

  As Mekel pulled his white knit sweater over his head, Terry appeared in his doorway wrapped in a towel. She didn’t seem like she had anywhere to go anytime soon, so Mekel tried to politely move her along.

  “Terry, shouldn’t you be leaving to get your kids?”

  She shook her head. “Nah, I’m straight. It’s still early.”

  “Look, Terry. Let’s not mistake a morning screw for a lifetime commitment. You already know why we won’t work,” Mekel continued as he patted cologne on the sides of his face and back of his neck.

  Terry looked at Mekel and the room began to spin. No, he was not trying to wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am her here.

  “What?” Terry screamed. She could feel herself losing control.

  “Here we go,” Mekel said, picking up his car keys. “You got three minutes to raise up. I ain’t got time for this shit.”

  As tears began to fall, Terry really looked at Mekel. For the first time, she saw him for what he was—a nigga who took the pussy that was put in his face.

  Mekel began to rush through the front room, grabbing Terry’s items and nearly throwing them at her. He had seen so many of Terry’s tears that the sight of them didn’t faze him.

  “Why? Why did you fuck me then, if you didn’t want me?”

  “Want you? Terry, please. You know the deal. I tried to be nice to yo’ ass and this is the drama I get in return. You’s a fuckin’ drama queen and I don’t need it. I damn sure don’t need your pussy.”

  Mekel was hoping that the more he hurt Terry, the faster she would leave, and that this would be the last time. The pussy was good, but her emotions were weak, and he didn’t need the drama. Especially with a new baby in the picture.

  “How could you do this to me?” Terry pleaded. “You know that I love you.”

  “Love me? Love yourself and just leave me the fuck alone. I should have left your ass out in the cold. I should have known you wouldn’t act right.”

  Tears streamed down Terry’s face and her voice almost cracked. “Now this is my fault? My fault ’cause your bitch got a big belly and your dick got hard?”

  Terry did not want to hear Mekel’s answer. She could see by the cold look in his eye that it would not be of any benefit to her. He no longer seemed to have any guilt about getting Kera pregnant. In fact, he felt justified because of how Terry reacted.

  “Get the fuck out!” Mekel yelled, looking at his watch.

  “I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”

  Mekel slid his keys into the front pocket of his black slacks. He grabbed Terry by her wrist and held her clothing with his free hand. Next, he opened the front door and threw her clothes into the yard in front of the apartments. The morning dew was still on the blades of grass and the air was a tad bit chilly, but he didn’t care. He wanted her out of his apartment and finally out of his life.

  He grabbed her purse and threw it across the yard. He then continued to push her outside, wrapped only in a towel.

  As he walked past her, Terry tried to attack him. Instead of landing a blow, she stumbled and fell. When she reached out both hands to catch her balance, the towel flew from around her torso, and she was exposed. Fo
r a moment, Terry simply sat there, crying, not believing she’d sunk so low. Once she saw Mekel climb into his car, Terry, too distraught to wrap the towel around her, ran to him. As she reached for the door handle to get him to stop and talk to her, Mekel put his car in reverse and glared again at Terry.

  As he pulled off, Terry felt her nails breaking, so she let go of the door handle. In disgust, she sat on the damp grass, still naked as a jaybird, her buttocks stinging from the grass blades, sobbing.

  Mekel looked back, shook his head and simply drove off.

  CHAPTER 23

  Game Over

  Bacon picked up the receiver and, with some degree of nervousness, dialed. What a muthafucka would give to be free, he thought.

  Bacon firmly believed in the adage “Never let your right hand know what your left hand is doing.” Certainly, he couldn’t depend on his niggas in the streets of Detroit to come through. He knew that in his home city, the streets weren’t always loyal to a muthafucka in da game. Most of the time, it was when people were down that the streets kicked the hardest. Bacon had seen some of his closest confidants clamor for pieces of his fortune, and he was cool with this. What he had was a confidante he kept to himself. He gave her a call.

  “Hello?” the woman answered.

  “You have a collect call from a federal prison. Caller, please identify yourself after the tone . . . Beep . . . Bacon.” The recording spoke into the voice machine.

  “Yes.” She spoke into the phone in a soft tenor voice.

  “Foxy?” Bacon asked as his heart beat loudly.

  “This is she,” Foxy replied.

  “Thank God you’re home.”

  “What do I owe the pleasure—or displeasure—of this phone call?”

  “Foxy, I need your help.”

  “So, how are you?” she asked.

  “It’s been rough,” Bacon confessed. “Damn, sorry like hell I didn’t listen to you, though. You know about my partner and everything.”

  “Bacon, no need to go into spilled milk, especially over this phone. How can Foxy help you?”

  “Foxy, my girl done flipped on me, and she ain’t been taking care of me like a nigga thought she would.” Bacon paused for a reply, but Foxy didn’t give him one. “And, well, I ain’t got nobody looking out for me.”

  “Okay.” Foxy continued to listen.

  “I’ve been dealing with this lawyer. And, well, it’s really too much to get into over the phone. Can you come visit me?”

  “What?” Foxy asked. “Where you at?”

  “I’m in the feds in Milan. It’s about a three-hour drive for you. Right outside the D. Will you please come?”

  “Bacon, you asking me to drive three hours, then counsel you. You taking up a day out of an old woman’s life.”

  “How much?”

  “Five thousand.”

  “Don’t got it, but I can get it,” Bacon promised.

  “Your word is your bond. Let me get a pen to write down your information, and I’ll be there in a week.”

  “Foxy, this is an emergency. I need to see you as soon as possible.”

  “Don’t you need to put me on the list?”

  “No. I can talk to my case manager and get an emergency visit. I just need your full name.”

  “Frank Burns. I’ll be there tomorrow.”

  Bacon hung up the phone and commenced to dialing again.

  “Triple Crown Publications. How can I help you?”

  “You have a collect call from a federal prison.”

  “Yes, I’ll accept the charges.”

  “Hello . . . Hello . . .” Bacon said into the receiver, relieved the call was accepted. “I need to speak to the owner or manager.”

  “This is Kammi. I’m the office manager. How can I help you?”

  “I’m one of your authors, and I haven’t been getting my money.”

  “Oh, okay. What’s your name?”

  “Bacon. I mean . . . well, the book is called Bitch Nigga, Snitch Nigga, and it’s under the name Lisa Lennox.”

  “Oh, yes, our bestseller. Well, that book was written by a female, sir. Maybe you have it confused.”

  “Nah, bitch.”

  “What did you call me?”

  “Excuse me. I’m just a little upset. I wrote that book, and my girl turned it in to you. She’s been working with you.”

  “And she’ll have to keep working with us. I’m looking into the file, and I don’t see a Bacon or any other contact person listed. I’m sorry, but I can’t discuss the book or anything with you.”

  “What? Wait, don’t hang up. What you don’t understand is that I wrote that book, and I’m not getting paid. I need to get my money sent directly to me.”

  “I’m sorry to hear you have issues, but we don’t deviate from the contract. I’m afraid you’ll have to talk to the person you were working with. It wasn’t us.”

  “You mean to tell me you just gon’ take my book and not pay me? Triple Crown done robbed me, right?”

  “Sir, from the notes, the payments have been made to the author. I can’t give you any other information.”

  “Can I get a copy of my contract?”

  “Sorry. Privileged information.”

  “Sorry. Yeah, you is a sorry bitch, and when I get out—”

  The Triple Crown office manager hung straight up on what she thought was a fool.

  When he gets out . . . Kammi chuckled to herself. It was not uncommon for her to get collect calls; some of their authors were incarcerated. She did remember the terms of Bitch Nigga and the request by the submitter that an alias be used. Nevertheless, she definitely had nothing to do with that because TCP had handled business on their end. Her job required that she go by the folder.

  She felt sorry for the guy and wondered if something shady was up, but she knew not to take it to her boss. If it didn’t make dollars, it didn’t make sense. Kammi stuffed the folder back into the file cabinet and proceeded to complete the daily tasks of her job.

  • • •

  Bacon was heated. He’d gotten nowhere with Triple Crown, and he knew that Red would lie if he asked her. He wanted to have her come for a visit so he could wring her neck. Clearly, he had gotten over her miscarriage. He decided that it was a good thing for him not to have a child with her trick ass. Bacon had one thing on his mind: getting free and seeking revenge on those who had done him wrong.

  Three people—Red, the head of Triple Crown, and Jerome—had it coming, and he was going to get revenge or die trying.

  Since the book’s release, word was that there was a hit out on him. He knew he would soon have all of his answers.

  • • •

  Red’s cell phone rang as she lay in bed, still trying to rest and get her health back together and get over the heartache at losing Q. There wasn’t much that Red couldn’t shake, but this love thing was hard.

  Red looked at the ringing phone and the caller ID: it was Terry.

  What this silly bitch want? Red thought as she picked up the phone and answered. “Hello.”

  “Red?” Terry said, almost asking rather than knowing.

  “Who else?” Red said smartly.

  “I-I-I need you. I need someone to talk to.”

  “Look, Terry, what is the problem? Don’t tell me it’s Mekel and his shit.”

  “I love him, Red, and I need your advice on how to get him back.”

  “Shit, girl, I got man problems of my own. The one sure way for a man to come back is if he loves you.” Red felt herself getting misty. She realized that she was talking more to herself than she was to Terry.

  “I’ve tried everything.”

  “Yeah, I bet you have.”

  “Sex, lickin’, the entire nine.”

  Red had thought of those options herself, but they were so temporary that they were hardly worth trying on someone she loved.

  “Don’t work in the long run. I mean, if you trying to get some short dough, some shoes or your hair done, then yeah, but if you
trying to make a nigga love you, nah. Girl, take it from me, if he loves you, he’ll come back. You don’t have to trick him.”

  “What am I supposed to do?”

  “Let go.”

  The phone went silent for a moment. Red knew her shit was fucked up, and there was so much of a web to untangle that it seemed impossible. Terry had had a chance with a man who did care and in his own way had loved her.

  “Red, I love him. I can’t let go.”

  “Terry, you have to. He got a family now, and it won’t ever be the same. Not with that baby between y’all. That baby changed da game completely.”

  Terry let Red’s words marinate and she knew it was the truth. That muthafuckin,’ bastard-ass, stank-ass child did make it worse.

  Red was getting soft, and the last thing she wanted was to bond with Terry and claim defeat.

  “Look, Terry, I gotta run.”

  “Where you headed?”

  “To Scott Memorial Hospital. Kera had her baby last night. Girl, just let it go. Mekel is a father now. They had a son.”

  Before Red could finish her sentence, she heard Terry bawling and wailing. Red simply hung up the phone and headed to the shower.

  • • •

  Terry adjusted a blond wig on her head just so, gazing into the mirror of a public restroom just three blocks from the hospital. She didn’t think about a plan; she was running off desperate emotions. When she arrived at the hospital, it was four o’clock in the afternoon.

  She parked her truck a block away, hoping to avoid detection. As she sat in the truck, she focused on fucking Mekel up and leaving him in the ruin of her piss. She realized that she couldn’t make a move until dark, so she paced outside, talking to herself to pass the time.

  “That bastard. He fuckin’ think he gon’ play daddy. Shit, I’m gon’ take everything he think he love, then cut his dick off so he can never fuck another bitch.” For the next two hours, Terry continued to murmur obscenities about Mekel and the baby. By the time the sun went down, she was like a crazed animal.