The Dirty Red Series

by Vickie M. Stringer

  • • •

  St. Joseph’s Cathedral sat off the intersection of Livernois Avenue and Green Acres. The church had been standing for more than one hundred years and was considered a landmark. Red parked the car and looked again at the envelope that contained her check. It was over, but why didn’t it feel complete? It had all gone the way she planned. She was in the top position to walk away, yet still she felt incomplete.

  The air turned slightly chilly; Red shivered and huddled in her jacket. Feeling a sense of surrender, Red entered the cathedral. In the atrium, she passed a basin of holy water on her left and dipped her fingers inside the bowl and anointed her forehead. She felt a sense of calm. She stepped inside the church and beheld the grandness of the entrance. The stained glass windows bounced a reflection of holiness off them.

  The sound of her heels clicking on the marble floor echoed throughout the church. She was thankful to have the place to herself. When she reached the front pew, Red stepped inside the row and knelt. Folding her hands on her forehead, she found herself praying, not for anything in particular. Red prayed for what seemed like hours, when in actuality it was only several minutes.

  Suddenly she felt a presence behind her. At first she dismissed it as another parishioner coming to pray, but the presence still lurked behind her—she could see the shadow on the floor in front of her. Red’s heartbeat quickened. She turned to face whoever it was.

  From a kneeling position the man seemed ten feet tall. Red stood slowly, believing this to be the end of her life. She was ready for the unexpected. The image before her had a hoodie covering his face.

  The stranger lifted his hand to remove his hoodie and Red gasped and covered her mouth when she recognized Q.

  She couldn’t believe her eyes. Instinctively, she knew it was up to her to make the first move so she reached for Q’s embrace. As her hazel eyes searched his face, looking for a response, he pulled her close to him. She could tell from his caress he’d missed her. There was no doubt.

  Finally Red pulled away. “Q, how did you find me here?” she asked.

  “I was on my way to the airport and—”

  “Airport? For what?” she interrupted.

  “I need to get away for a while. You know, get my shit together. Anyway, I saw your car outside and something made me curious as to why you were here. So, when I came inside, you were kneeling.”

  Red sat down on the wooden pew and Q sat beside her. Their voices echoed off the ceiling, so they whispered to each other.

  “Q, please forgive me.”

  “Red, I tried, but I can’t.”

  “So you came here to not forgive me? Look where we at, Q. You can forgive me. I’m here asking for God’s forgiveness. Can’t you give me yours?” Red tried to take his hand into hers, but Q pushed it away.

  “Red, I just can’t. You had no right to trick me like you did. That sh . . . stuff was foul.”

  “Q, you’re right. I was foul, but I did what I thought I needed to do at the time.”

  “You didn’t have to do that to me.”

  “I know.” Red let her tears fall from her eyes.

  “Red, there was no need for the b.s. I really cared for you and all you could think about was scheming.”

  “Q, you’re right again. I didn’t know any other way. I did what I thought I needed to do.”

  “What do you mean by that? Why are you repeating yourself?” Q mumbled as he heaved a deep sigh.

  “Q, because my life was fucked. I went through hell living with my mother and her boyfriend. That nigga hurt me. All y’all niggas hurt me. I did what I thought I needed to do to protect myself. You have no idea what it’s like, thinking you have no one to depend on.”

  “Yeah, I do. The streets do it to you all the time, but Red, I ain’t the streets!”

  “Do the streets let your mother’s boyfriend fuck you and then have your mother tell you that you are lying? Do the streets allow your own mother to not even be there for you and to deny what is happening? I know I’ve done some crazy things, but hurt people hurt people.”

  Red attempted to wipe her tears but they flowed endlessly, staining her face.

  Q had nothing to say. For the first time, he wanted to listen. The feelings of wanting to slap the shit out of her began to fade because he needed answers for himself. Q was wise enough to know that yelling and berating her wouldn’t do him any good. The question for him was, did he fall in love with a scheming bitch or did he fall in love with what he saw in Red, a sophisticated survivor who had made bad choices?

  As Red continued to pour out her past, Q placed his arm around her shoulders to comfort her until she stopped crying. Just because it was over didn’t mean he couldn’t be her friend. Q also worried about Bacon being free and didn’t want to add another heavy burden to Red’s pain. Q wanted to make sure that Red was out of town and safe before hearing about Bacon being out. He didn’t want to alarm her and cause any delays.

  “So, what are you gon’ do?” Q asked.

  “I’m moving. Just want to get out of here,” Red replied.

  “Okay, what about Sasha? She know you moving?”

  “Sasha got put out a week ago.”

  To Q, Sasha being gone was a good thing—it meant Red was safe. He kept the conversation moving.

  “Red, I know you got a stash. Ain’t that what you girls do? Try to stack the next man’s cash?”

  “Yeah, Q, I got money.”

  “Well you need to take it and leave Detroit. Ain’t nothing here for you.”

  “You here.” Red’s voice lifted in hope on the first word. She wanted to know if he still loved her.

  “Yeah, but not for you,” Q replied, hardening his heart, hurting internally. He wanted to take her back, but he knew she needed to leave town for her own safety. Q became afraid that if he showed any signs of affection that he would not be able to do what he needed to do, and that was let her go and convince her to leave.

  “Q, I . . . I . . . I love you.” She lowered her eyes.

  “Red, you don’t love me. You love what you thought I could give you. You love my money.”

  “Yeah I loved money, and I wanted what you have, but I got to know you and fell in love. I feel horrible about the way things went down. You have to believe me,” Red pleaded.

  “What I believe is that you played me like a mark and all for what? The love of money.”

  Q stood and began to walk away. Red reached for his arm, but he snatched it away, rushing out of the church. Red followed behind him, tears welling up in her eyes. She never would have believed that she would run after a man, but today she was. If she could, she would throw her arms around his feet and beg him not to leave. She wanted him to know that she was a changed woman.

  “Q, wait. Please hear me out.”

  He stopped when they were in front of Red’s car, holding up his palm in a halt sign. “Look, Red, it’s too late for us. Just do you. I saw your car and I stopped to see you. I’m glad you leaving and like I know, you got enough money to bounce. So, just keep it moving.”

  Red looked into Q’s eyes and saw that he meant what he said. His jaw looked set, and his eyes were hard. She still decided to plead with him. “Q, the money is nothing to me.”

  “Tell that to someone who didn’t experience you lying to them.”

  Red reached into her purse and pulled out the envelope with the $1.6 million check inside. She clutched it tightly, tears streaming down her face, then held it out toward Q.

  “Q, I would trade all of this in for you. I realized it doesn’t mean anything if I can’t have you.”

  Red shoved the envelope into his hand. She didn’t want the money without the man. She hit the lock on her car doors, jumped inside her ride and drove off before Q could protest. It was no use. She had lost Q and she had given him the check for the house. It didn’t matter. She wanted the past to be just that—the past.

  CHAPTER 27

  The Big Payback

  After mulling ov
er his next move, Bacon decided it was time to go get what was rightfully his. He not only wanted the money that he’d stashed with Red before his incarceration, he wanted the money from the proceeds of his book sales.

  As evening fell, Bacon paced back and forth, contemplating what he would say to Red. He was standing outside Foxy’s door, on her stoop, wondering if it was safe to make a move. Finally he decided that it was time. Bacon put his hand on his waist, checking to make sure he had his gat.

  He looked to his right and then his left. It felt reasonably safe, so he stepped into the chilly night air. Time to pay the piper, he thought. After a half hour wait, Bacon hopped the Number 2 bus headed out west. The bus was damn near vacant. Weekdays were always slow for this route. Besides, not many Detroiters ventured into West Bloomfield. Bacon sat at the rear of the bus and got comfortable for his forty-minute ride.

  As he sat alone in the back, he began to think about going home. He was ready to move back into the home he busted his ass for. The home Red had inherited and then played foul. Just thinking of how that dirty bitch was resting her head in a house that he, himself, hadn’t been able to rest in caused the heat in his nostrils to flare hotter.

  Bacon rubbed his hands together. Yes, he planned to put Red’s ass out and reclaim his kingdom. The King was home and he was ready to let everyone know it, especially her. Her night was going to be cold and dreary once the two of them finally came face to face. Bacon not only wanted to put her ass out, he wanted her to feel pain. He wanted retribution for Red and restoration for himself. Bacon felt that as smart as Red was, she had also become careless and stupid. She would never expect the justice system to work and for him to roll up at the crib unannounced. Living in the suburbs had given her a suburban mentality. Yes, she was slipping. She’d become careless.

  • • •

  Watching Red drive away, Q felt unnerved. For the longest, he stood there numbly, thinking, wondering, if he’d said all the right things. Had he done the right thing by not telling Red about Bacon being out? Q knew that Red’s mind was a little off balance since the miscarriage and he couldn’t judge her reaction. Anyhow, women were always unpredictable, he thought. Although he didn’t want Red harmed, at the same time he didn’t want to get twisted up in any of her bullshit, either.

  For the first time, Q looked down at the wrinkled white envelope that Red had smashed into his hands. The return address on the envelope was for Schottenstein Realty. Because of the purchase of the loft, Q knew Red did business with them. Hmmm. He wondered what the envelope could contain.

  He flipped the envelope over and, with his index finger, ripped the seal off. Inside there was a light blue-check, which was made payable to Raven Gomez for $1.6 million. The dollar amount wasn’t so surprising, because large amounts of money were normal for street niggas like Q. What caught him off guard was that the check appeared to be legit. Street money with commas and legal money with commas were two different things. Legal zeros in your bank account were impressive. Q couldn’t figure out why Red had given him this check. He began to play the conversation between them over again.

  “I would give all this up for you.”

  Red’s words spun around and around in his head, just as clearly as she had spoken them a few minutes ago. Q’s ego celebrated, as he now felt redeemed, holding the check in his hand. Although it was addressed to Red, he knew with an endorsement in a matter of days the check would be good and deposited into his account. All the money that she tricked out of him, she had just paid him back with interest. He could cash the check, be through with Red and be compensated for the past, all in one fell swoop. Q was never the type of man to gain off a woman, but considering the circumstances, fair exchange wasn’t robbery.

  • • •

  As she drove away, Red could barely see the street before her for the blinding tears in her eyes. But like Morton salt, when it rained it poured, and she flooded her face with salty-tasting tears. When Red ran through the yellow light on Woodward Avenue, she didn’t give a fuck. Sure, she knew the cops laid low, waiting on a car to speed by, but she didn’t care.

  She just wanted to get home as soon as possible, grab her bags and bounce. She blanked her mind out as to the lost money. She didn’t want regret to sink in about giving the check to Q. If he couldn’t forgive her, perhaps the check would make up for the grime she’d done against him. She had asked for forgiveness, told the truth and offered him her heart. Yet it still wasn’t good enough. Oddly, though, she wasn’t hurt by Q’s rejection. She knew she had hurt his pride. And if he was anything, Q was a proud black man who didn’t like to get played. Red knew that she’d played him and she would have understood if he’d smacked the shit out of her upon seeing her. The pain and agony of not being with him was eroding her. She had hoped, like in a fairy tale, that he would be her king and forgive her faults. Yet she knew that like in the past, none of her childhood dreams ever came true. Red knew she had to let him and all the other shit go.

  Nevertheless, Red had found peace in her actions. She truly meant it when she’d told Q she loved him. And, because love is what love does, and showing beats telling, Red had put her money where her mouth was. She’d given Q all that she had—and that was the money. Hell, if he really loved her, he would come back, one day.

  Red raised her right hand to wipe her tears and lost control of her car, veering into the next lane, sideswiping a beige station wagon. The driver rolled down his window and cursed loudly, “You fuckin’ bitch. Watch where you’re going!”

  The car slowed to pull over to talk to Red but instead of stopping, she ignored the driver and the collision, and kept driving. She sped up, pushing the car to seventy miles per hour as she headed toward her home. She didn’t care who she harmed, even herself. For the first time in her life, she didn’t care if she lived or died.

  • • •

  Catching the bus back to his crib was not a good feeling. Bacon shifted back and forth on the plastic blue seat. After all, he had left Puerto Rican Mami straight for years. Ruefully, Bacon shook his head, thinking about how slick Red tried to be even upon meeting him. It was always a game with her.

  “Hunh,” Bacon chuckled as the bus came to a stop. He couldn’t help but smirk to himself because he knew that what goes around definitely comes around.

  Finally Bacon hopped off the bus and jetted across the street. He turned left at the first block and walked toward the house.

  His house was the third one from the corner. The carriage lights twinkled off the three-car garage. Bacon admired his home before he walked toward the back.

  A neighbor’s dog barked in the distance. Its small bark was hardly enough to alert anyone that someone was on the back patio of Red’s house trying to get in.

  Bacon immediately noticed that the French doors that once contained single panes of clear glass had been replaced with double-paned glass. For a moment he wondered what had happened. He stood on the patio, noticing the leaves, bugs and other debris floating in the kidney-shaped swimming pool. Just like a muthafucka who didn’t buy it; Red was letting the place go downhill. Bacon thought of his gardener, Julio, and how lovely he’d kept the grounds before Bacon had gone inside. All that would soon be back into effect.

  Jiggling the knob, Bacon slipped into thinking of the new things he would do to the house. The door was locked; he walked to the service door of the garage and found it unlocked. Walking through the garage, he noticed that it was dark, but empty. His heart began to pound, but his familiarity with the house calmed him. Still, the uncertainty played mind games on him. Not knowing what was about to go down, he wanted to be prepared for the worst. Bacon put one hand on his gat; with his other hand, he turned the knob to go inside the house.

  As always, the door leading to the kitchen was open. Bacon walked into the home and heard the faint sounds of music. When he and Red lived together, they made it a habit of leaving the radio on. All of the lights were turned off except the basement lights. Not wanting anyone to kno
w he was in the house, he relied on the moon’s glow descending through the skylights in the great room.

  Bacon paused. For a moment he stood frozen to the spot, trying to absorb what was going on. The room was completely filled with boxes, which were neatly labeled. The furniture was covered with white cloths, and it was apparent that someone was getting ready to move.

  Finally he willed his feet to move. Nervously, his hand grabbed the banister leading upstairs. He began taking the steps two at a time. Bacon rushed to the master bedroom. The first place he looked was the walk-in closet. Empty! None of his Armani suits or athletic gear hung from the racks. All of his designer shirts and shoes were gone. Nothing was in the closet except for a few hangers that obviously got left behind.

  Bacon then went over to the picture that hung next to the window, removed it and uncovered his wall safe. He tried the combination 24-36-12, hoping Red hadn’t changed it. Bacon let out a sigh of relief when it clicked. Bacon then slowly opened the door to find that his guns—a .357 Magnum, a Glock nine and a small derringer—were still there.

  He also discovered the Triple Crown Publications contract. The paperwork caught him by surprise. As he read over the details, he noticed that the name “Raven Gomez” was clearly signed all over the place. Bacon ruffled through some other papers but did not find the deed for the house. What he found was a statement reflecting a payment of $25,000.

  “Dirty Red bitch!” he uttered.

  He also noticed that his stash of money was half gone. Bacon didn’t care about the missing money—he knew he could get that back. His focus now beamed in on “get back.” He felt a cold fury burning inside of him. He was bent on revenge.

  Clutching the Glock, Bacon slid it in his waistband, making his arsenal total two. He left the other guns inside the safe, closed it and returned the picture to the wall. Peeking out of the bedroom window, he noticed lights approaching the house. Bacon turned and ran downstairs. As he was moving through the house, he heard the garage door opening. Bacon looked around for cover, then slid behind the study door off the great room and waited.