The judge reviewed the paperwork before her. “Miss Reed, I’d like to meet with your client and the counsel for the plaintiff. At that time, I’ll make my decision.”
The next day, Terry, Chass, Mekel and his attorney sat before the judge.
“Mr. Chambers,” the judge said, “is your child’s mother coming?”
“All due respect, Your Honor, my son’s medical problems are because of neglect on her part. The Department of Child and Family Services has placed my son solely in my care,” Mekel said sternly. “I’m the primary caregiver and I make the decisions pertaining to him.”
The judge nodded, then looked over her glasses at the four people before her.
“After reviewing everything, I am suggesting probation and parental counseling for Miss Washington.”
Terry looked on with tears of joy in her eyes.
“Furthermore, I recommend anger management counseling to help you handle what life throws at you, Miss Washington. The crime you committed against a newborn is despicable, and only because of Mr. Chambers am I able to offer this to you.”
Terry looked at Mekel. He grabbed her hands.
“Mr. Chambers, it’s stated here that you want Miss Washington to be released into your custody.”
“That’s right, Your Honor. Because I am partially to blame, I want to be a part of Terry’s recovery process.” He looked at Terry. “Although I’m temporarily staying at a hotel, I’m in the process of securing a new home for me, my son, Terry and her children.” Mekel didn’t want to subject Terry to any more hurt than he had already given her by making her live behind Kera, so this was the best for all of them.
“I’ll begin working on the paperwork,” the judge said to Terry and Mekel. “Case dismissed.”
CHAPTER 23
Q had been in solitude since Zeke’s funeral and Red made sure to steer clear of him. She faked her grief in public to show that she took Zeke’s death as hard as Q. Even at the funeral, she donned a black veil and cried loudly. The average person would have thought she was grieving heavily, but Red was hiding her true emotions: she didn’t care about Zeke and was mainly hiding her guilt. It had been two weeks, and she was tired of acting grief-stricken, but at the same time, she didn’t know how to console Q. How could she console someone over a death she had intentionally caused?
“Q, I need to make a run. Will you come by the office later and help me set some stuff up?” Q sat expressionless on the living room love seat as he read over Zeke’s obituary for what seemed like the millionth time. “Q . . . Q!”
“What?” he answered, putting the obituary down.
“Nothing.” Red shook her head and headed into the bedroom to get dressed. Can’t even have a decent conversation with my man, she said under her breath. She snatched a pair of jeans off of the wooden hanger in her walk-in closet. It’s been weeks since that nigga died and Q still acting like it was yesterday.
“Red?”
Red gazed up and saw Q standing in the bedroom’s doorway watching her dress. His tone of voice was serious, deadly. Right away her antennae went up. Q was getting suspicious.
“Yeah, baby, what’s up?” She stood up from the bed and pulled her jeans up. She tried to sound preoccupied, innocent.
“When was the last time you saw Zeke?”
Oh shit, she thought. I wonder if Zeke ever told Q about that small donation. She was thinking of the five g’s she ganked from him after she fucked him. Red fastened her jeans and began to put on her camisole top. “It’s been a long time, Q. You and I were together when I saw him last. Why?”
“I was just wondering why or how he got here.”
Red stepped into her stilettos. “I don’t know, Q.” She turned to the gilded mirror, freshened up her face and threw on a fresh coat of lip gloss. “I was at the office preparing for my open house, remember?” She grabbed some of the material she had been working on and shoved it into her oversize bag. Q nodded.
Red studied him out the corner of her eye. He has no reason to not believe me, she reasoned with herself. “All right, baby.” She kissed Q on the cheek. “I’ll see you later.” Red didn’t wait for Q to respond. She left in haste.
Driving away from the Garden Lofts at Woodward Place, Red admired the modern architecture of Wayne County and the new construction that seemed to appear overnight. Driving out of her community, she made a left onto Witherell Street. Not long before Red made a right onto Broadway, her heart started racing as she saw a figure that seemed to be coming straight toward her car. The man walked slowly in front of her car, staring at her as he crossed the street. “Damn, he look just like Bacon,” Red said, panic-stricken.
Bacon had been on Red’s mind over the past few days. Subconsciously, she was concerned—she knew he was out there, but where? Red had contacted Bacon’s attorney, who confirmed that he was indeed a free man, then hired a private investigator to help locate him. Red knew how Bacon operated and knew that he wouldn’t lie low for too long. However, a couple of weeks ago when she went to the hood to distribute fliers for her open house many people asked about him. Some people thought he was still locked up, which confused her even more. She couldn’t explain why people were talking about him but hadn’t seen him. She was hoping that he had given up on her, but deep down, something in her gut told her it wasn’t the case.
With the red light turning green, Red turned right onto Broadway. She busied herself on her cell with returning business calls. She needed something to keep her mind off of Q, Zeke and now Bacon. Over the past week, she’d been interviewed by several local radio stations and had advertised in local newspapers and on billboards for the open house. Red also went to the areas where ballers were heavy and didn’t mind spending a dime. Niggas always tried to hide their dope money in Laundromats, barbershops and car washes, and Red knew that. Commercial properties were lucrative to both her and her clients, and she was there to serve them, as long as they served her.
• • •
“In other news, in an update to a case we brought you a month ago, a major drug ring has been uncovered in Boca Raton, Florida. The DEA, along with their drug-sniffing canine companions, has discovered over a million dollars’ worth of raw heroin. Approximately two million dollars in cash has been seized, along with several properties. Multiple arrests have been made. We will bring you more news as it becomes available.”
Bacon exhaled after the story. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath. That could have been me, he surmised and got up to turn the television off. Bacon reflected on how his life had changed.
Black Tar heroin was huge in Mexico; but it was hard to get to the States. Courtesy of Jose, Bacon had brought it in and it had been flowing nonstop ever since. It was now the biggest thing that to hit the streets of Detroit since X. What made Black Tar desirable was the fact it was undetectable by routine drug tests and narcotics-sniffing dogs. Because of this, addicts who were in denial came out of the woodwork looking for a hit.
For the first time in Bacon’s life, he called the shots and instructed others to do the dirty work. The women he encountered, unlike Red, felt he was powerful and rich, which boosted his ego, unlike Red, who didn’t appreciate anything he did for her.
Bacon had made more money in the three months since he’d been released than the three years he had lived with Red, who spent his dough as fast as he made it on the streets.
Looking back, the one thing he learned dealing with Red was to be on top of his game and not to let a woman run his shit. To pass time, when he wasn’t fucking Foxy, Bacon had his share of women, courtesy of Maurice. All colors, shapes and sizes. With pussy almost every night he had his game tight and had gotten back into the drug game with a vengeance. He was untouchable and on top of the world. Bacon felt like he was God because he controlled the destiny of all of the people around him.
With this new product, Black Tar, the possibilities that were now before him were endless. Even the money he had lost to Red was now merely pocket change; b
ut she had violated one of the Ten Commandments, “Thou shall not steal,” and she had to be taught a valuable lesson.
Bacon’s transformation meant he had no need to travel the grounds he’d already traveled. This time around, he had people working for him to do this. Now he knew how white-collar criminals operated. Now he knew how to stay beneath the law’s radar.
• • •
After pulling up in front of the prison, Red sighed after seeing how far she had to walk. Thinking about all she had to do, she considered turning back around and leaving. Instead she popped open her glove compartment and pulled out a handicap parking permit that she’d taken from Gloria’s desk. Red hung the blue-and-white tag from her rearview mirror and parked her vehicle merely steps from the front gate. It looked like multiple duplexes, surrounded by well-manicured landscape and modern fixtures. The only thing that reminded her of prison was the entry process.
After the mandatory processing, Red was escorted to the visiting areas, where she sat waiting for Catfish to emerge. She looked around the facility and felt dirty. It’s something about this jailhouse air, she said to herself, looking forward to a thorough cleansing when she got home. She glanced again at the door marked “Prisoners Only” and saw him walk through it.
Oh, shit, look at that greasy bastard slithering over here. Gotdamn, Sasha, you need an Academy Award for even kissing this son of a bitch. Ooh . . . and you fucked his ugly ass, too? I don’t care how good the dick was or how deep his bankroll ran . . . shit! Damn, it don’t help that his face is wider than a muthafucka.
Red envisioned whiskers growing out of his face, which would make his punch-bowl mouth more prominent. The visual put a smirk on her face. Gotdamn, boy, you look like a microwaved shit sandwich. Damn!
While Catfish walked toward Red, his thoughts ran rampant. I ain’t believe the shit when she wrote me, but it’s true, she ain’t dead. Where the fuck is Sasha? Can’t send a bitch to do a man’s job. Glad my nigga on it, though . . . two for one. Look at her sitting there, smiling at me with her dirty ass. That nigga Bacon ain’t know how to treat her. That kinda bitch needs her ass kicked every now and then to keep her in check. Sasha oughta know. When I find that ho, it’s lullabye time, then time to say good night, Red.
“Hi, Catfish!” Red sang cheerfully. She embraced him and kissed his cheek. Ooh, shit, I’ma need some alcohol. “You’re looking good!”
She sat through an hour visit with Catfish, with her mainly talking about old times and him going along with her game.
“What I really wanted to talk to you about was this.” She handed him a copy of Bitch Nigga, Snitch Nigga. “The shit in this book can hurt a lot of people.”
“Why you bringin’ it to me?” he questioned, trying to figure out her motives.
“Because Sasha fucked up when she wrote this.”
“Sasha?”
“Yeah, wasn’t she with you when all this went down? I’m tryin’ to squash shit before it gets started. This has enough information in it to hurt both you and Bacon, especially now that he’s out.”
“Out?”
“Yeah, he’s out.” Red planted the seed she needed. She knew that Catfish and Bacon went to prison on the same murder charge. She would get back at Bacon, but she needed help. “You ain’t know?”
Catfish remained silent.
“Well, since he’s out, I’m sure you’ll be out soon, but we need to see what’s up with Sasha and why she wrote this shit,” Red said, pointing toward the book. “Me and Bacon gon’ try to move on and we don’t need no shit standing in our way.”
Red tried to suppress a smile when Catfish looked at her. His lazy eye refused to focus on her. “I’ll get back witcha after I get through readin’ this.” Catfish got up from the table.
Red watched him stalking toward the door for prisoners. Ewww, yuck! she said to herself as she walked out of the room.
• • •
Red drove back home to check on Q and to see if he would now consider going to the office with her. She dropped her purse and cell phone on the coffee table, then walked to the bedroom. Q wasn’t there. Wondering where he could have gone, Red sat down on the love seat. Realizing where she was, a chill ran up her spine. She was sitting in the exact same place Zeke was sitting when he drank the tainted water.
Red blinked her eyes as visions of Zeke flashed through her mind. Help me, she remembered him saying and reaching his hand out toward her.
Her cell phone rang and startled her. Red jumped. “Shit!” She grabbed the device off the coffee table. “Hello?” she said breathlessly.
“Miss Gomez?” the caller on the other line said.
“Yes, who is this?”
“This is Terry Washington’s attorney, Chass Reed. I’m calling you because your name has been listed as a character reference.”
“Character reference for what?”
“She’s being released.”
Red paused momentarily, then spoke. “Oh, great!” she exclaimed in fake excitement. Bitch gonna give me my shit, she thought.
Red listened to the caller and assured her that she would do what was requested—write a character reference; however, what Red planned on doing was sending a copy of Terry’s taped confession of yet another attempted murder instead.
Red sat back on the couch with a look of satisfaction on her face. “I think this calls for a celebration.”
Red quickly showered and the thought of food caused her stomach to growl. She decided to splurge on herself. Andiamo Italia was one of Detroit’s upscale Italian restaurants. Red loved the place; however, Q hadn’t taken her there in a while.
She knew she had to look on point because it wasn’t your run-of-the-mill restaurant. It was one of Detroit’s finest and she wanted to look her best. The way the orange Versace fabric of her pantsuit jumper rested against her caramel skin, Red knew she was hot. The Jimmy Choo sandals with matching bag only accentuated her package. Red was fierce and she knew it.
• • •
Bacon sat back on the couch, scratching his balls through his boxers, and thought about all he had been told about Red, her business and her upcoming open house. He even learned that Q got out of the game and was spending a little time with another female. Although Bacon was still mad as hell with Red, for some reason, he still wanted her. He just couldn’t let her get away with her shit.
Bacon flicked on the television to get his mind off her for a minute, and there was a commercial for Pampers playing.
He thought back to the baby she lost. He remembered she named some people as the cause of her miscarriage. Until now Bacon had forgotten about it. He made a point to ask Foxy about this. Although he couldn’t stand Red, someone had killed his seed, and that person would have to pay. But what he didn’t know was that she was claiming Q’s baby as well.
• • •
Red made it to the restaurant just as a black Cadillac Roadster passed her. It was hard finding a parking spot. She surveyed the parking lot and just so happened to see a car that looked vaguely familiar to her. Red walked into the restaurant as if she had not a care in the world.
“Your name?” the hostess asked.
“Gomez,” she responded.
The hostess looked at the reservation list. “Do you have reservations?”
Red glanced down at the list and something caught her attention. It couldn’t be, she said. This is my lucky day!
Soft music played in the background while the decadent scent of baked breads topped with Italian seasoning filled the air. Candle centerpieces at each table provided just enough light for their patrons. Various waiters passed Red, balancing trays filled with plates of meatballs and pasta sauce gracefully on their shoulders. The sight made Red’s stomach growl and her mouth water.
“Actually, I was meeting some friends here,” Red lied. “We were meeting in the private dining area.” Red hoped they wouldn’t ask any questions. “I believe they said private dining area two.”
“Oh, sure,” the ho
stess said with a smile. “Follow me.”
Red followed her to the private dining area but excused herself to the bathroom first.
Red almost had an instant orgasm, thinking of the surprised look that would be on Sasha and Kera’s face when she crashed their party.
• • •
“Can you believe that bitch had the nerve to call my house, girl?” Kera asked Sasha. “Talking about let me speak to Mekel. Bitch, please!” Kera’s religion went out of the window when she spoke about Terry.
“Yeah, she was wrong for calling your crib,” Sasha co-signed. “He obviously chose who he wanted to be with, so it’s time for her to be a woman and let the shit go. But the fucked-up thing is, she had the nerve to ask about your baby.” Sasha took a sip of her water, then shook her head in disgust.
Red had heard enough. Although she agreed that what Terry did was wrong, Sasha’s comments angered her even more. She was certain Sasha would pull that card if indeed she was fucking around with Blue. For her sake, she’d better not be.
“Ladies!” Red screeched with a fake smile on her face. “Having dinner without me?”
Both women looked on in horror as Red startled them. She sashayed over to Sasha and hugged her, then to Kera and hugged her, as well.
“Y’all look surprised to see me,” Red teased.
“What . . . what are you doing here, Red?” Kera asked.
“I should be asking you the same thing. I thought you would have been at the hospital with your child.” Red overheard Q having a conversation with Mekel and learned of Kera’s son’s condition. She sat at to the table, which was set for three, noticed a bottle of Chardonnay in a sterling silver wine chiller on the table and poured herself a glass.
“What’s wrong with the baby?” Sasha asked, instinctively.
Kera looked at Red, tightened up her lips and squinted her eyes.
Red turned the Chardonnay bottle and and read: “According to the Surgeon General, ‘women should not drink alcoholic beverages during pregnancy because of the risks of birth defects.’” She put the bottle back. “Isn’t that right, Kera?”
The Dirty Red Series Page 36
