The Dirty Red Series

by Vickie M. Stringer

  Q sat down and waited his turn while engaging in light conversation with Mekel. They’d met at the hospital when Kera gave birth, and again at Red’s, but they knew more of each other through word of mouth on the streets. They respected each other’s hustles.

  Little did they know, they had a lot in common. They both had loved ones who went down because of the game, and the book Bitch Nigga, Snitch Nigga told it all. They were both determined to avenge their loved ones’ untimely demises. And they also knew their women were partnas at one point.

  “How’s the baby, man?” Q asked Mekel.

  “He’s doing good, real good,” Mekel said, with a proud beam on his face.

  “So you settlin’ down, huh? Gonna be that one-woman man,” Q teased. Big Will removed the cape from around Mekel’s neck.

  “Man,” Mekel said, standing up, “that was good then, but it’s hard to stay with one woman.” He reached into his pocket, then paid Big Will.

  “I feel ya,” another man chimed in. “A nigga shouldn’t just have one woman when pussy is plentiful!” Everyone erupted in laughter.

  “Shit, I made my money off women,” Mekel said truthfully. “I ain’t used to this. At first I thought she was going through that postpartum stuff, but now she’s at church all the time, sprinkling holy oil, holy water, whatever that shit is all around the house, mood swings all over the place . . . I don’t know what’s up with her.”

  “Aww shit!” a young dude commented. “The church done got ahold of her now. Next she gon’ be talking about that premarital sex stuff. She like a hawk now, flyin’ in a circle. She gon’ get yo’ ass. You better run while you got the chance!”

  More laughter erupted. Mekel had to laugh at that himself because he could envision Kera snappin’ on him, or better yet, tying him to a chair and throwing holy water on him.

  Q sat down in the chair and Big Will draped the cape around his neck. Q and Mekel engaged in conversation for a moment. Then right before Mekel left the shop, the two promised to stay in touch with each other.

  • • •

  As Mekel was entering his truck, his cell phone rang. The caller ID read Unavailable, but he answered it anyway.

  “Yeah.” He started the truck and immediately was engulfed in music.

  The automated message stated he had a collect call from an inmate at a correctional center, but the caller’s name was inaudible due to his loud music. He pressed five.

  “Mekel?”

  “Who dis?” he said, trying to sound hard.

  “This is Terry, but before you hang up,” she said in a torrent of words, “please hear me out.”

  “You got twenty seconds,” Mekel barked angrily as he began to drive.

  “I called you the other day at home and Kera answered and wouldn’t let me talk to you. But that’s not the reason I’m calling. I’m calling because I’m going to court in two days and I wanted you to know that I was wrong for my actions and I accept full responsibility for whatever the outcome is. Just know I didn’t do it to hurt the baby. I would never do that. I was hurt because I loved you and you didn’t love me back.”

  Mekel’s cell beeped, alerting him that he had another call. He looked at the caller ID and paused.

  “Mekel?” Terry called out, thinking he hung up on her.

  “I’m here.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence. Then she continued. “Well . . . my time is up. I’m gonna go now.”

  “No, Terry, wait.”

  Another long silence, with Terry waiting to hear what he had to say.

  Finally Mekel spoke up. “I will never forgive you for what you did, but I will always care for you and I’m sorry for how things turned out.” He stopped talking and swallowed hard. The person trying to get through hung up. “How are they treating you in there?”

  “They got me undergoing a lot of psychological testing, but I lost my kids. Mama flipped the script and said I was never home because I was chasing you.”

  “Damn, that’s rough.”

  “Yeah, but it’s okay though. At least they’re not in the system, and I know they’re being taken care of. Hopefully I’ll be home soon and I’ll be able to be their mother again.”

  “Regardless of who raises them, Terry, you will always be their mother.”

  “Thanks, Mekel. I needed to hear that.”

  Mekel drove the rest of the way home talking to her.

  CHAPTER 19

  Red looked at the clock on the wall. Four P.M. She had been at the office a couple of hours. There was a serenity in the air that she needed after the violent act she’d committed earlier. Red’s emotions went from hot to cold. She was like a black panther—back her up in a corner, she’d come out clawing, not caring who would be hurt in the process. She thought back to her unborn child and how it was taken away from her at the hands of another person. Did my child deserve to die? No! Does Zeke deserve to die? she challenged herself. He’s just as much a person as my baby was. Red thought about it, battling her conscience. But her self-absorption won out. Hell, yeah, she thought, that nigga deserves whatever he got comin’ to him. He could jeopardize my relationship with Q. I don’t know who he thought he was fuckin’ with, but I’d put a stop to anyone who dares to stand in the way!

  Her mind flashed to Bacon. “Let me see something,” she said out loud, firing up her Apple laptop computer. Over the last few days, she had been hearing Bacon’s name on the streets but nobody had seen him. She had to see for herself if he was truly out. She typed in www.bop.gov, then entered his required information and waited for the results to display.

  “Gotdamnit!” she said out loud. There was a date by his name, as well as the word RELEASED. So he wasn’t out through an escape. Somehow he had beat his case. She shook her head, ruefully.

  Red remembered the book and her thoughts went to Catfish. She pulled out a pen and paper and began to write:

  Catfish,

  We need to talk. Please put me on your visitor list so I can come see you. I want to squash some things before they get out of hand.

  Red

  Red addressed the envelope with the information she received from the website and decided to take it to the post office once she left.

  Red thought of Q and what her life would be like with him out of the game. She scowled. She then thought of the other people who had done her wrong . . . the ones who called themselves her friends. “I got something for Kera sending that damned letter to Bacon. Terry’s dumb ass still owe me money, and Sasha?” Red shook her head thinking of Sasha and Blue together. “You crossed the ultimate line.” The thought of the three women and what they had done to her angered Red even more.

  She looked to her right and saw Gloria’s Rolodex of clients. She remembered how Gloria started in the business. I built my company with one client. That client later referred me to another client, then another.

  Red had truly learned a legal hustle, but she needed something to jump-start her new venture. Finally, she came up with an idea. She decided to host an open house.

  Feeling better about everything, Red began to map out her plans. She had tons to do and very little time to do it.

  Red made plans to contact an advertising agency to help with the introduction of Gomez Realty; she would also place ads in upscale magazines to gain her clientele. She knew the business; she just had to get out there and start working again.

  One thing she’d learned while in Mexico was how to be happy with what you have now. Red had realized that although she didn’t have what she was accustomed to at first—the fly clothes, the expensive car, the money and a man—she had to make it by the sweat of her brow. In her heart, she was truly ready to turn her life around to be with Q, but somehow she knew that all of her dirtiness wouldn’t disappear.

  A strange tone rang from her cell phone. She grabbed it and looked at the caller ID.

  “Who in the fuck is calling me private?” Red hated that.

  Though she wasn’t one to answer her phone if the
person wouldn’t display their number, she answered it anyway.

  “Hello? Hello?”

  Nobody said anything.

  Red hung up. Just then, she looked up and saw a car, a BMW that looked like her old car, the one Bacon bought her. Almost instantly, her cell rang again. “Damn, who is it this time?” She looked at the caller ID and saw unknown.

  “What!” she yelled into the phone.

  To her surprise, it turned out to be a collect call from Terry. Tempted to hang up, she decided to fuck with Terry, so she pushed five and accepted the call.

  “Bitch, you got some clothes for me?” Terry quipped, in hopes Red wouldn’t go off on her after she heard her voice.

  “I ain’t got nothing that goes with county colors,” Red replied coldly.

  “Damn, Red, can you at least be civil to a bitch?”

  “What do you want, Terry? I’m in the middle of something.”

  “I was just calling, you know.” Terry realized it was a mistake to call Red, but she continued. She hoped their longtime friendship would mean something to Red. “Since I been in here, I had a lot of time to think and I’ve learned something about myself.” Terry was excited about the breakthrough she had made and wanted to share it with someone, even if it was with Red.

  “And I suppose you’re gonna tell me what it is, huh?” Red asked sarcastically.

  Ignoring Red’s attitude, Terry spoke. “I learned that I am responsible for my own actions. Nobody controls what I do, except me.”

  “Umpf,” Red grunted. “You know that was fucked up what you did, right?”

  “Yeah, I know,” Terry confirmed. “The baby didn’t—”

  “Baby? I ain’t talking ’bout no damn baby,” Red yelled. “That was fucked up, but I’m talking about you acting like you was in the Wild Wild West at my gotdamn house. You still owe me for that shit.”

  “Red, you still stuck on that?” Terry spat.

  “Yeah, you still owe me. What was the deal, two thousand and your truck?”

  Terry couldn’t believe her ears. She was behind bars until God only knew when and all Red could think about was her house.

  “You know what, Red . . . I don’t know why the hell I called you. You only care about yourself.”

  “You ain’t know?” Red replied coldly. “Now, are we gonna work this out or should the authorities get a little tape in the mail? You wanna hear it, it’s right here,” Red lied.

  “Ooh, Red, I can’t stand you!” Terry remembered the tape Red had with her confession that she’d shot at Mekel and Kera. “You’ll never change. You still dirty.”

  “You’re right,” Red admitted, proudly.

  Terry hung up.

  If it weren’t for Red not knowing what was up with her house, she would have gone there to get the tape. She loved fucking with Terry. Red smiled at her cell phone and turned it off.

  • • •

  “Oh, my God! Zeke!” Q yelled. He had just returned to the loft and found his friend lying on the floor with white foam spewing from his mouth. Q looked around the living room and noticed that picture frames were broken and lying on the floor. Immediately, he dialed 911.

  “Operator, I need an ambulance! I found my friend passed out on the floor. He doesn’t look too good.”

  “Is he breathing?” the operator asked.

  “I don’t know. Let me check.” Q knelt over his boyhood friend and placed his finger under his nose. He felt faint but sporadic air coming from his nostrils. “Yes! He’s still breathing, barely.”

  “Hold on.”

  Within minutes, three paramedics came barreling through the door with a stretcher and large black medical bags. Seconds later, Zeke had an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth, and an IV coming out of his left arm. The three men lifted Zeke’s motionless body onto the stretcher and whisked him to the ambulance.

  Q tried to follow the paramedics, but was stopped by two law enforcement officers.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Carter?”

  “Yes,” Q answered.

  “We’d like to ask you a few questions about what happened here. I’m Officer McDonald, and my partner is Officer Thomas.”

  “Look, can we do this later? That’s my boy and—”

  “This will only take a minute,” Office McDonald assured Q, cutting him off. Q noticed the skinny young black officer, Officer Thomas, looking around the loft. Q eyed him cautiously.

  “Can you tell me what happened?”

  “I . . . I don’t know,” Q answered truthfully. “I just came home and he was here on the floor with stuff coming out of his mouth, barely breathing.”

  “What did you do when you found him?”

  Q looked at him like he was crazy. “I called 911, what . . .” He threw his hands up in the air and twisted his mouth in disgust.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Carter,” Officer McDonald said. “These are just standard questions. Where were you?”

  “Where was I when?” Q snapped. “I was here when I called.”

  “No. Where were you while Ezekiel Morrison was in your home?”

  “I had some runs to make.”

  “Some runs?”

  “Yeah . . . look, man, I don’t have time for this. My doorman saw me leave, and he saw me when I came back.” The two looked at each other as if in a Mexican standoff.

  Officer Thomas saw the tension and walked over to them. “There’s nothing here,” he told his partner. “Mr. Carter, if we need anything else, we’ll be in touch. Sorry for any inconvenience.”

  The officers left and Q followed right behind them, heading to Scott Memorial Hospital. En route, he called Red’s cell phone, but her voice mail picked up immediately. He left a message telling her he was going to the hospital. Q needed to talk to someone and he knew just who to call. He drove feverishly to get to the hospital, all the while praying that his boy wouldn’t die.

  Chass greeted Q at the entrance and they made their way to the Emergency waiting area. Q was glad she was there for him, and she was glad that Q called her. Chass comforted him while they waited for Zeke’s prognosis.

  • • •

  Blue looked over at Sasha as she slept. He didn’t want to wake her because she had put in a lot of work over the last few days. While he was in New York handling business, she was traveling from Jersey to Pennsylvania, making sure his money was right. With her, it was like having Blue in two places at the same time; however, nobody would suspect Sasha to be his eyes and ears. Her knowledge of the drug game and her loyalty to him was more than he had expected.

  Just hours ago, he was trying to kill her with his dick; she held her own and with every stroke he gave, her pussy challenged him to continue to bring it on.

  Before that, Blue had been waiting for Sasha to return from New Jersey—she was running late. All sorts of thoughts flooded his mind. Did she get popped? Nah . . . I would have heard about that. Damn, I know she don’t call herself taking my shit and runnin’ with it.

  About thirty minutes later, Sasha walked through the door.

  “Where the fuck you been?” Blue yelled at her.

  “Damn, nigga, chill!” Sasha had to pee. She slid the large black purse that was on her shoulder to the floor, held her crotch and trotted off to the bathroom. She almost peed on herself before her bottom hit the toilet seat. After finishing her business, she washed her hands, then went back in the hallway to deal with Blue. “Now, what the hell is your problem?”

  “You’re late. Where’s my shit?” he barked.

  “You know what?” Sasha said, walking over to the bag she dropped. “I’m tired of you acting like I’ma do something with yo’ stuff. Here, boy!” She reached in and threw four large bundles of money at him. One hitting him upside the head.

  “Boy?”

  “Yeah, BOY! That’s what you actin’ like . . . like someone gon’ take yo’ shit. When are you gonna realize I got yo’ back?” Sasha now had tears in her eyes. She felt like no matter how hard she tried to show him she was true, Blue alw
ays did something to fuck it up. Blue knew she was down for him, but he just couldn’t trust a female. Sasha was no exception, or so he thought.

  “Damn, ma, don’t cry on me and shit,” he said when he saw a tear fall from her eyes onto her beautiful dark brown skin. “I hate when you do that.” Blue walked up to her and wiped away her tears. “You know, it’s just hard for me, in my line of work, to be able to trust someone, ya know.”

  Sasha turned to walk away, but Blue grabbed her arm. “What the fuck you want now?” She was pissed at him.

  Blue backed her up forcefully against the wall. He began kissing her roughly. Sasha reciprocated not only with kisses, but small bites. Blue roughly put his hands under her blouse and ripped it off of her. Sasha couldn’t wait for his hands to touch her breasts. She reached back and unhooked her bra, letting her breasts free. Blue grabbed them forcefully and began sucking on one, then the other.

  “Ooh . . . shh . . . ooh, that feels good,” she panted. Her breasts were tender but his hot mouth on the nipples made every nerve ending in her body stand up.

  Blue tugged at Sasha’s pants. She eased her way out of them. She stood before him in only her panties. He picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. He needed some type of leverage with what he was going to do to her. She bounced once when he tossed her on the bed. Quickly undressing, Blue hopped on the bed and with his right hand moved her left leg as far as it could go, and entered her forcefully. One stroke . . . two stokes . . . “Damn, ma, this shit . . .” he grunted as he tried to knock her back out.

  The two fucked like wild animals, clawing, biting, pulling at each other. The heightened sensations made them climax repeatedly.

  Although Blue had schooled Red, Sasha schooled him that seasoned pussy didn’t have to be trained. And she was right. Once more, she had proven herself, and Blue was definitely feeling her.

  Looking at Sasha sleep soundly, he remembered the reason why he hooked up with her in the first place. Even though she called him, he had been trying to find a way to get back to her. There was a nice bounty on her head. At first he thought it would be simple, but now he realized the money he was offered to bring her back to Catfish, dead or alive, meant nothing. He had to protect her, and that he would do, at all costs.