The Dirty Red Series

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by Vickie M. Stringer


  Bacon looked at her, cackled evilly and stood up.

  Smack!

  He backslapped her.

  Smack!

  He slapped her again.

  Red began to get angry. Not only had he slapped her once, he slapped her twice. She rose to her feet.

  “Bitch, I ain’t say you can get up.” Bacon slapped her again. “You move when I tell you to move.” Red got back on the floor. “You dirty bitch!” She had never seen this side of Bacon before. “Now, crawl.”

  Red wiped her face with the back of her hand, wiping away the tears that were streaming down her face. “B-B-Bacon, you been watchin’ too much TV.” She remembered how he liked this particular scene in the movie Sparkle, but she couldn’t play it out for him.

  “That’s all I had time to do when I was locked down, and you was spending all my shit, so bitch, I said crawl!” Bacon pointed his .357 Magnum toward her. “Or die.”

  Red knew she should have taken his guns out of the safe when she first thought about it, but now it was too late.

  Bacon pulled the blue bag off of the bed and opened it. Red stayed in the position she was in. Bacon reached in and grabbed a stack of money and threw it down by his feet. He reached in and threw another one down. Red knew the band colors that held the money, and he had just dropped 50 g’s right in front of her.

  “You know you want this. Now you know what it’s like to be broke, huh? Crawl!”

  Red began crawling.

  Bacon reached in and dropped more stacks.

  Red crawled more. Your available balance is $1. Now you know what it’s like to be broke, huh? rang repeatedly in her head. She stopped when she reached his feet. Bacon reached in his back pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. He looked at Red. “What was that bullshit you said to me before?”

  “What?” she questioned.

  He read out loud in a stentorian voice:

  Dear Bacon,

  Or, in your case, should I call you John? This is the letter you been beggin’ for.

  Well, let’s see. It would be virtually impossible for you to kick my ass, seeing as how you will be an old and gray bastard when you come home. Your dick is so little that I can’t believe you even wear a size 12 shoe. There goes that myth. When I first met you I sized you up real good and I knew the dick was going to be swinging. Boy, was I wrong. I guess that teaches me not to judge a book by its cover, or a dick by its shoe size.

  I hope with all the free time on your hands you now realize that I never loved you. As quiet as it was kept, I didn’t even like you. Before you got locked up I couldn’t even stand the sight of your face, and let’s not discuss the sound of your voice.

  “Bacon, I told you I—”

  He skipped down to the next paragraph and read, “ ‘Your partner Stan’s cum tastes like ice cream in my mouth.’ ” He skipped more. “ ‘I got your loot, you took the case, now press that bunk and do that muthafuckin’ time.’ ”

  Bacon’s hand began to crumble the paper as he read, “ ‘My new man and I reap all the benefits . . . get you a boyfriend, let him suck your dick and leave me the fuck alone.’ ”

  Bacon undid his pants and allowed them to fall on the floor.

  “Stan’s cum tastes like ice cream, huh?” He grabbed her head and forced it into his crotch. “Suck my dick, you dirty bitch.”

  Red instinctively moved her face away and Bacon knew why. He knew when he placed the call about wanting to see the property a few days ago, Red would jump at the chance to show it. And she did. Because of this, he made sure that he didn’t wash his dick after fucking Foxy in her ass about an hour ago.

  “Open up,” he sang as he waved his flaccid member in front of her. “Bite me and you’re dead.” He caressed her face with his .357 and kept the barrel of the gun right at her temple.

  What the fuck am I doing? Red said to herself. Got this nigga’s nasty-ass dick in my mouth. I need to get outta here. He’s gonna kill me. Lord, please help me.

  Red began to suck Bacon’s dick. The more she sucked the softer it seemed to become. Bacon began grinding his groin into her mouth as he let go of a warm liquid. “Yeah, drink it up bitch,” he said as he peed in Red’s mouth.

  Red snatched her head back, but he quickly grabbed his dick and finished the flow trickling on her face.

  “You grimy bastard!” Red shouted.

  “What it taste like?” Bacon grinned at her. “It taste better than Stan?”

  Bacon loved forcing Red into submission. He wanted her to suck his dick again but he had other business to take care of.

  “Get the fuck up,” he yelled at her.

  Red slowly stood up and he motioned for her to get on the bed. “Bacon, I don’t—”

  “I don’t wanna fuck yo’ piss-drankin’ ass. I wanna play a little game with you, now sit down.” He patted the bed next to him.

  Hesitantly, Red sat down.

  “You heard of the game Russian roulette, right?”

  Red nodded.

  “Well, I got one bullet in here.” He waved his .357 in front of her, “and you have some choices to make.”

  Red looked at him and rolled her eyes. Bacon grabbed her hair and jerked her head backward. “This game is called Life or Death.”

  Red peered at him through tear-soaked eyes.

  “Ma, look, I still love you.”

  “You sure got a fucked-up way of showing it!” Red spat.

  Bacon’s hand tightened on her hair.

  “Word on the streets had it you were asking about me.”

  “Asking about you? Huh . . . I don’t think so.”

  Bacon shook his head. “You really think I’m still that same stupid Bacon you knew before he got locked up, huh? You stole from me when I gave you whatever you wanted. You disrespected my house and let another nigga come over here. I should just . . .” Bacon reached toward her throat and wanted to choke the life outta her, but he stopped.

  “I can’t blame you, Red, for doing what you did. I mean, I was gone for a while, but you was wifey. I never thought you would fuck me the way you did. But baby, I’m back,” he said smoothly. “I got more than you could ever want.”

  “I don’t want you, Bacon!”

  Instantly, Bacon let Red’s hair go. He gently turned her face toward him. “I can give you the world, Red. Anything you want . . . it’s yours.”

  “I have my own,” she retorted.

  “No, you don’t and you know it, Red. Just for the record, I know everything. I even know about the baby that you claimed was mine. You didn’t know whose it was, Red. How you gon’ let that pretty-ass nigga nut all up in yo’ pussy, then have me go behind him?”

  “I ain’t make you do shit, Bacon. I ain’t wanna fuck you,” Red admitted.

  “But you did fuck me. The fucked-up thing is, Red, you wanted me to kill someone who killed our baby.” Bacon laughed. “Our baby. I can’t claim what I don’t know is mine, so I ain’t fuckin’ with nobody over it. Who knows whose baby it was?” Bacon continued talking. “You stole from me. You know what, though? I took back everything you took from me. The money from Triple Crown, your bank account is empty, and the little business you own . . . it’s not in your name.”

  “What you mean, not in my name?”

  “You don’t remember signing the quitclaim deed?” He shoved the papers in Red’s face. “Same shit you did to me, Red, I did it to you.”

  Red thought about what he had just told her. Her fists began flying. “How the fuck you gon’ take my money out of my fuckin’ account . . . take my business . . . you dirty bastard!”

  Bacon blocked her blows.

  “Now you know what the shit feels like. I had to start from rock bottom all because of you. Now, do you wanna know how you can redeem yourself? This will wipe out your debt and we’ll be equal. The prize comes with unlimited money, but it requires loyalty. Loyalty or death, Red, which one do you choose?”

  “Fuck you, Bacon! I hope you die, you dirty bastard!”

 
; “A nine-to-five ain’t you, Red.” Bacon ignored what she had just said. “You were made to be wifey. We can go anywhere and get started all over, baby. Just me and you. So . . . what’s it going to be? Death”—Bacon cocked the gun—“or loyalty?”

  Red paused. She realized Bacon was serious. She gulped a deep swallow of spit before she spoke up in a whisper. “Loyalty.”

  • • •

  Officer Thomas got into his patrol car and decided to go to Q’s. He had information for him that he thought would be helpful, plus he had a search warrant for the loft. The security camera videotaped the comings and goings that night Zeke was killed. He saw Q enter the building, then an older woman, whom Q left with. Not long after the older woman was seen on video, Red appeared. Officer Thomas noticed that Q and the woman left, but then he saw Zeke enter the building as well. According to the tape, approximately 20 minutes passed before Red walked swiftly toward the exit. Q arrived, then shortly afterward, the police and the ambulance. Officer Thomas knew Red was hiding something when she slipped up and mentioned murder in connection with Zeke’s death.

  For a man as young as Zeke, without any known medical problems, to die was very suspicious. Now he had proof. Red knew something, but he wasn’t prepared for what he had learned.

  • • •

  Red and Bacon arrived at the loft within a half hour. With tears in her eyes, she looked at Bacon.

  “Loyalty, remember?” he said to her. “And everything you could possibly want will be yours. I still love you, Red, and on the real, do what I ask and we can charge it to the game, not your heart, feel me? Now come on, let’s do the damn thing.”

  Slowly, Red emerged from the car and walked into the building toward the elevators. Bacon followed behind her. He had to make sure she didn’t turn on him. Even though she chose loyalty over death, he wasn’t stupid. Red was still a dirty bitch.

  Red ignored the doorman’s greeting as she looked at the two elevator cars in front of her. They both seemed to take their own sweet time returning to the main floor. Red stepped on the first one and turned around as the door closed. Bacon slid in right before it closed.

  Loyalty, Red thought. Q has done so much for me and I can’t forget that. He risked his life for me. If that ain’t loyal, I can’t say what is, but Bacon . . . he can give me the life I want. She looked at Bacon, who was staring at her intensely. The elevator continued to climb, now almost at its destination. Q loves me unconditionally.

  The ding alerted Red she finally reached her floor. She stepped off the elevator with Bacon behind her.

  Walking slowly toward the door of her home, Red decided to do something out of the ordinary. Maybe Q would pick up that something is wrong, Red hoped. She knocked on her front door and rang the bell. Within minutes, Q opened it.

  Red walked in. “Damn, what you been doin’ up in here?” she asked. It smelled like a distillery.

  “You . . . I can’t believe you would do all of the shit you’ve done to me, Red,” Q slurred, talking with no obvious purpose.

  “What you talking about?”

  “The pee test you did, I know all about that. I know how you played Kera and your girl Sasha. You still dirty, Red.”

  “Q, you’re drunk.” Red tried to escort him to the couch. “You need to lay down.”

  “I don’t need to do shit but tell you to leave.” He looked closely at her. “Get the fuck outta my house.”

  “What?”

  “You heard what I said, get the fuck OUT!” He pointed toward the door.

  “Look, you’re obviously angry for some reason. I’m gonna get some clothes and stay at a friend’s for a few days.”

  “Friend? You ain’t got no friends, Red.” Q then mumbled something under his breath that Red couldn’t understand.

  She marched to the bedroom but came back in less than a minute.

  “Q, where’s my shit?”

  “Get out, Red.”

  “Where’s my shit?!”

  Red realized the pungent smell wasn’t Q and his drunken state. It was bleach. She ran to the bathroom.

  “You bitch-ass muthafucka! How yo’ broke ass gonna fuck my shit up?”

  “Easy. I’m just doing what you told me to do in Mexico. You told me to keep the clothes, that they were too much of a reminder of me, so yo’ shit was too much of a reminder of you, so I had to do something with them. Fair enough, isn’t it?” Q smirked.

  “You broke-ass bastard!”

  “Broke? That’s the second time you called me that and it will be your last. See, that’s your muthafuckin’ problem. I told you I was getting off the damn streets. I grew up, Red. I was trying to come clean so I could build a better life for both of us, but, naw, you ain’t want that. You still on that kiddie shit. You know what? Get the fuck outta my house and my life, Red. Play your childish games for someone who cares.”

  Q turned around. Red reached into her oversize Marc Jacobs bag and pulled out the gun that Bacon had given her. Q loves me unconditionally, she repeated, but would he die for me?

  “Do you love me, Q?” Red called out through tears. He didn’t answer her. “Do you love me, Q?” she asked again.

  “I can’t love anyone who is as heartless as you.”

  “I love you, baby. Do it,” a voice urged.

  Q turned around at the sound of the voice. He saw that it was Bacon. “What the fuck?” As drunk as Q was, he charged at Bacon. The two men began to tussle, knocking over furniture.

  Without warning, a loud sound rang out.

  Pow!

  Bacon pulled away from Q and Red watched as Q’s body slumped to the floor. Just as she quickly turned to leave the loft, she turned back and looked at Q. Tears ran down her face as she watched him struggle to breathe. No matter how she truly felt about Q, her back was up against a wall and she had to make a decision. Her life or Q’s. She chose to live.

  Acknowledgments

  My Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. For this I know that Thou art with me, for He has not allowed my enemies to triumph over me. To my family: the Stringers, the Berrys, the Ranges, the Haggens, the Thompsons, and the Rockefellers.

  My sister, Linda Stringer, and my twin—it is such a pleasure to be your family.

  Mia McPherson, my right hand and faithfully devoted angel-sent friend.

  April Tang, my personal assistant. Thank you for being so superbly wonderful and perfect in all that you do.

  My favorite niece, Ruqiayah Stringer. I’m so very proud of you.

  To my mother, Eula Thompson and my father, Thomas Range: am I a chip off you old blocks or what? Proud of me?

  To my devoted Triple Crown staff and all those devoted, true-blue, rain, snow, sleet and hail fans.

  To my editors: Malaika Adero, Krishan Trotman, Donna M. Rivera.

  To my writing coaches, Reagen Gomez, Cynthia Parker and Maxine Thompson, thanks for helping VS.

  I can’t list everyone, but I’m so good at saying thank you I will say it again: Thank you for supporting me.

  To my life reasons: Valen Mychal and Victor Amon and Vegas. I love you guys with all of my heart.

  Always,

  VS

  A Division of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  1230 Avenue of the Americas

  New York, NY 10020

  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2008 by Vickie M. Stringer

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Atria Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

  First Atria Books hardcover edition July 2008

  ATRIA BOOKS and colophon are trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-P
ublication Data

  Stringer, Vickie M.

  Still dirty : a novel / Vickie Stringer. —1st Atria Books hardcover

  ed. p. cm.

  1. African American women—Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3569.T69586S75 2008

  813’.54—dc22 200815346

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4165-6358-7

  ISBN-10: 1-4165-6358-X

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4165-6385-3 (eBook)

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Acknowledgments

  Michael L. Haggen

  This one’s for you!

  Warning comes before destruction.

 

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