The Dirty Red Series

by Vickie M. Stringer

  “Thank you,” he whispered. His voice was still weak. “How long have I been here?”

  “Three days,” Chass said. Noticing that he seemed to be struggling, she asked, “What are you doing?”

  “I can’t feel my legs,” Q said desperately, and he tried to move them again.

  Both women tried to calm him down. His mother took the lead. “Quentin Carter, stop it. Stop it now! Look at me.”

  Q stopped protesting and looked at his mother.

  “Baby, you’ve been shot,” she told him sternly. “The bullet stopped very close to your spine. They had to go in and get it out.”

  “Mama, I can’t move my legs!” he said as best he could.

  Chass’s eyes teared up watching Q in this state.

  “We know, Quentin,” she managed to say. “The doctors told us that as a result of where the bullet landed, you may be paralyzed.”

  Q laid his head back on his pillow. The women saw a tear escape from under his lids.

  “That’s not all,” Chass told him.

  He lay in complete silence, then she continued.

  “The bullet destroyed your colon. You have . . .” Chass couldn’t bring herself to tell him the rest.

  Mrs. Carter rubbed Chass on her back. “It’s okay, honey,” she told her. “Quentin, you have a colostomy bag.” Q didn’t respond. “But it’s okay, son. We’ll get through this.” She looked at Chass. “All three of us.”

  Q opened his eyes and silently mouthed, “Thank you.”

  Mrs. Carter left the room to get a nurse to alert her that Quentin had awakened. Chass took that time to talk with him further.

  “Quentin?”

  “Yes.” He looked at her and motioned for her to sit next to him. “What’s wrong, Chass?”

  After an awkward moment of silence, she spoke. “A detective came up here to see you.”

  “Thomas?” he asked softly.

  “Yes, you know him?”

  Q nodded.

  “Well, he came to ask you about Zeke.”

  “I told him to kiss my ass.”

  “What? Why, Quentin?”

  “Because he kept asking me a bunch of questions and wasn’t doing the shit he was supposed to be doing.” Q started to become agitated and the beeping of his monitors started to increase.

  “Calm down. I’m just telling you this because you need to know,” Chass said.

  “Know what?”

  “He thinks Zeke was murdered.”

  “Murdered?”

  “Yes, and get this,” she said, smacking her lips in disgust. “He was asking about your little girlfriend.”

  Chass noticed that Q didn’t respond, but she did see a look spread across his face that she had never seen before.

  “I can’t believe she hasn’t even been up here. If you were my man, I’d—”

  Q raised his hand to stop her from talking.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Chass, I’m getting tired.” He looked at her. “I appreciate your being here, but I want to get some rest and I really don’t want to talk about Red.”

  Dejected, Chass looked at Q. She thought back to why she’d ended up at his apartment. It was to tell him she was leaving but also to let him know how she really felt. She was confused about why he didn’t want to talk about Red and acknowledge her absence. It was obvious. Instead, forming her thoughts carefully so as not to piss him off and upset herself further, she told him, “I lost you twice, Quentin, I’m not going to do it again. If you don’t want to talk about this, that’s fine. I won’t pressure you, but I smell a snake—a Red one. If I find out she had anything to do with this”—she pointed at him—“even though I’m an attorney, I’m not going to the cops. I’m taking matters in my own hands.” She reached over and kissed him on the forehead. “I’m going to go, but I’ll be back later.”

  Chass left the room. Looking for Mrs. Carter, she thought, I swear, if Red had something to do with this, she’s going to wish she were dead.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Terry ambled along a corridor of Scott Memorial Hospital, pushing Mekel Jr. in a stroller. She was coming from a CT scan appointment set by the baby’s neurologist.

  “Terry? Terry, is that you?”

  Terry looked around to see who was calling her name.

  “Oh my goodness!” Terry spied someone familiar. She stopped and extended her arms. “Chass, how are you?”

  The two exchanged a friendly hug.

  Chass took in Terry’s appearance. The unkempt woman she remembered visiting at the jail was gone. Terry looked healthy, happy and vibrant. She actually had a glow about herself.

  “You look great,” Chass admitted. “How have things been going for you?”

  Terry smiled. “Things have been going good. I’m still in therapy, and still making progress. Each day I feel as if I’m getting stronger.”

  Chass looked down at the baby in the stroller. “And who is this handsome young man?”

  “Aw.” Terry looked down, then back at Chass. “This is little Mekel.”

  Chass’s jaw dropped. “You mean the same—”

  “Yes,” Terry admitted, cutting her off.

  Chass knew that Mekel had dropped the charges against Terry and she was under his supervision. With a raised eyebrow, she asked, “Terry, do you think this is a good idea?”

  “He’s a baby, Chass. I’m a mother. I will never forget what I did and I owned up to what I did. Mekel forgave me and I owe him so much.” Terry reached down and stroked the baby’s cheek. “One day I’ll be able to look back on this as just another small stone in the path of my life’s journey.”

  Chass hugged her again.

  “Thank you,” Terry told her. “Wow, you keep coming into my life and saving me. God keeps sending you my way. What are you doing here?” Terry asked, turning the conversation back on Chass. “Is everything okay?”

  A somber look fell across Chass’s face. “No, not really.”

  “What’s wrong?” Terry asked, concerned.

  “Quentin is here.”

  “Quentin?”

  “Yes, Quentin Carter. You may know him as Q.”

  Terry’s eyes shot open. “Q? Red’s Q?”

  Reluctantly, Chass nodded.

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “He was shot,” Chass told her.

  “Shot? Q? Oh, shit!”

  “I know. I couldn’t believe it myself. He almost died.”

  Terry put her hand up to her mouth.

  “Girl, I’m so tired. I haven’t really slept in a week.”

  “You’ve been up here with him the whole time?”

  Chass nodded.

  Terry remembered the story Chass shared with her when she was locked up, and she put two and two together. Q was the man Chass lost. She felt bad for the young lawyer because she could relate. “Where’s Red?” she asked.

  Chass shrugged her shoulders. “No one’s seen her.”

  Terry shook her head. “That bitch is just out for herself,” she said out loud. “After all he’s done for her, she can’t even be by his side when he needs her? That ho is shady, Chass.”

  “She doesn’t need to be here,” Chass told Terry. “I can’t stand that heifer as it is, just let her show up here.”

  The two women laughed. Chass didn’t look like she would hurt a fly but Terry was certain that she would kick Red’s ass. She would pay money to see that.

  “Terry, can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “What kind of relationship did they have?” Chass needed some type of insight into what kind of person she was dealing with if she and Red ever crossed paths. It was also to figure out whether Quentin would go back to Red, when it was all said and done. She wanted to know if Red had some type of pull on him.

  “Well, I don’t know what you want to call it,” Terry told her. “They have this twisted history together. He’s been there for her, but Red always had other dudes waiting. I don’t know
if she really loved him or if he was just steady and stable for her.

  “From what I could tell, he loved her,” she continued. “He would do anything for her.”

  Chass’s heart dropped.

  “But I think he started peeping the shit she was into. I don’t know if he ever confronted her on it all, but . . . all I can say is be careful. Red’s really dirty and no telling what she’ll do or how far she’ll go to get what she wants. She’s a conniving bitch.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  This neighborhood has really gone down,” Bacon said in a disgusted tone as he looked around. It seemed to get worse each time he visited. Once a nice area, it was now an eyesore.

  He knocked on the door, each knock getting louder. He hated creeping into the neighborhood but hated it even more when people took too long to answer their damn doors. The neighborhood was so run-down, he didn’t want to be a statistic on anyone’s front porch.

  Foxy opened the door with her baseball bat cocked and ready. When she saw who was standing on her front porch she lowered the bat. “Oh, it’s you.”

  “Damn, what kinda greeting is that?” Bacon smiled. Foxy wore a short satin robe, which draped open, exposing her naked breasts and a pair of boy shorts.

  “What do you want, Bacon?” Foxy asked, pulling her robe closed. “It’s late.”

  Trying to look past her, he responded, “Damn, you got company in there or something?”

  Foxy turned her lips up in disgust. “It’s none of your damn business who I got in here. You don’t pay one damn bill up in this shit.”

  “C’mon, girl,” he begged, “let me in.”

  “For what?” she asked. “It’s one o’clock in the morning. After midnight, that’s booty call time and I’m tired of being your damn booty call. Shit!”

  “You know it ain’t like that,” he lied. Bacon loved it when Foxy was feisty. That meant the sex would be great. He stepped up and gently shoved his body against hers. Like he knew she would, she resisted, and he pushed past her. “What you got to eat up in this joint?”

  “Humpf,” Foxy said, turning around to close the door. Bacon swatted her on the ass. “Boy, you betta quit.”

  “Or what?” Bacon inquired. “You know when it’s on it’s on and I come ten men strong.”

  “Whatever.” Foxy walked to the kitchen. “All I got is spaghetti, and I was on my period,” she joked. “You want some?”

  Bacon laughed at her joke. “Yeah, if you can hook that up, I’d be happy.”

  He sat and watched Foxy bend over and pull the pot of pasta out of the refrigerator. Her strong, long, toned legs turned him on as well as the perfect hump of her ass. She turned around and slammed the pot on the stove. Her robe opened. Bacon’s eyes traveled from her legs to her pussy print that was outlined by the boy shorts. His eyes slowly traveled upward to her flat stomach, and her two perfect round breasts. The best that money could buy. Foxy shoveled some of the pasta onto a paper plate and, like a woman with an attitude, tossed it in the microwave on two minutes.

  She turned and looked at him while the food was warming.

  Bacon stood up and Foxy spied the bulge protruding in his pants. He walked up on her and put her hand on his dick.

  “You want some of this, don’t you?”

  “Fuck you, Bacon.”

  In a seductive tone, he countered, “Yeah, fuck Bacon.”

  Foxy used every bit of willpower she had to keep from dropping to her knees right there in the kitchen. A thick, long, black cock drove her crazy. Like she always told her friends, a nigga with a big dick could make her sing the “Star Spangled Banner” naked in the middle of Central Park on a Saturday afternoon in winter.

  Bacon grabbed Foxy and turned her around so that her back was toward him. He kissed her neck, lifted the back of her robe and pulled her boy shorts down. Foxy moaned. Her neck was her spot, and Bacon knew it. He kissed her neck and worked his way over to her earlobe and sucked it.

  He bent Foxy forward, over the kitchen sink, and then tried to push up inside her.

  “Wait a minute,” Foxy protested, raising up. “I need some lube.”

  Bacon pushed Foxy back down. “I don’t want no lube. I’ma show you that I come ten men strong.”

  The microwave beeped. Foxy meekly tried to raise up again, and Bacon pushed her back down. She liked playing this game with him. Although she liked when he fucked her in her pussy, she especially loved how he fucked her in her ass. Having climaxed from the foreplay, Foxy anxiously awaited Bacon forcibly going up in her. She loved how he punished her and got his nut off in a rough way. It made her want to scream for joy.

  Bacon opened her up and pushed himself up inside of her. Foxy tensed and gasped for air. Bacon dug up inside of her with deep, hard jabs, causing her to cry out.

  “Is it nine or ten?” Bacon asked, thrusting harder.

  “Ten!” Foxy shouted, every time he dug deeper. Then she purred, “It’s ten . . .” It was feeling good to Foxy and Bacon knew how to hit it just right. She squirmed, trying to reposition herself.

  “Uh-uh, get back here.”

  He pulled Foxy’s hands behind her back, holding her in place so she couldn’t go anywhere. All she could do was take the punishment that he was dishing out.

  “Huh? I can’t hear you,” Bacon told her.

  “It’s ten!” Foxy moaned in ecstasy.

  Bacon fucked Foxy’s ass for the next fifteen minutes until the tightness of her asshole brought the volcanic feeling of hot cum that stirred in his balls, roaring up the shaft, and erupting out of the tip of his dick. Bacon grunted loud and long as he nutted in her ass.

  “Whew, shit!” he said after the feeling subsided. He withdrew his dick and Foxy’s tight asshole made a pop sound. Bacon smiled; it was his asshole and she knew it.

  Foxy stood up and turned around. She looked flustered but sexually satisfied. “You go take a shower and I’ll warm up your food again.”

  Bacon winked at her and trotted off.

  • • •

  Ten minutes later, he returned to a plate of spaghetti. “Thanks, babe,” he acknowledged and sat down at the kitchen table.

  Hoping she could change things between then, Foxy smarted off. “You got me fucking you like you want, fixing you food and shit, bringing it to you at the table. You got me doing wifey shit, and I ain’t getting no wifey benefits.”

  Bacon shoveled a forkful into his mouth. “C’mere, baby,” he said, barely audible.

  Foxy trotted over to him and Bacon wrapped his arms around her waist. “You are getting wifey benefits. More than you know.”

  Yeah, nigga, was the look she gave him.

  “So what’s been up?” Bacon asked, making conversation.

  “What you mean?”

  “You keep your ear to the streets. What’s going on out there?”

  Whenever he needed the 411 on the streets, he knew he could count on Foxy to deliver. It wasn’t much she didn’t hear. It wasn’t much she didn’t know.

  “This damn ghetto got everybody on their toes. People breaking into other folks’ houses and you saw all that shit outside.” Bacon remembered seeing clothes, broken toys and things that should have been in people’s houses outside, like it was supposed to be out there. “People don’t have respect for nothing.” Foxy smacked her lips, irritably.

  “What’s the latest gossip? Who doing who and who got got?” Bacon asked.

  “Did I tell you about Lando?”

  “That’s the dude who got shot up at his crib, right?”

  “Yeah, over some damn weed, but check this.” Foxy leaned toward him as if she were telling him something confidential and didn’t want anyone else to hear. “Lando’s baby mama had him set up because he was giving her dick away to another chick and wasn’t putting it down right with her no more.”

  Bacon’s eyes widened. “Damn, she had him killed because he wasn’t fucking her right?”

  “Um-huh,” Foxy sang. “Then, remember Moesha? She got her ass
kicked by Wanda and her man?”

  Bacon nodded his head.

  “Well, dude is back with Moesha. He got mad because Moesha told Wanda they was fucking.”

  Bacon shook his head.

  “Bitches just scandalous,” Foxy confirmed. Silence fell upon them, then Foxy remembered something. “Oh, you know ole boy, Mekel? You know, the one who was messing with that raggedy hooker, Terry? She the one that got all them damn kids and different baby daddies.”

  Bacon had to remember. She was one of Red’s girls. “Oh yeah, what’s up with him?”

  “Well, he fucked Red’s girl, Kera, and got her pregnant—and get this, Terry got so pissed off, when Kera had the baby, she tried to kidnap him from the hospital. But when she almost got caught trying to leave the hospital with him, she dropped the kid on the floor.”

  Bacon looked at her. “Terry dropped the baby on the floor?”

  “Yup, threw him like he was a football.”

  “Damn, that’s fucked up.”

  “What’s even more fucked up is the baby is retarded.”

  Bacon’s eyes popped open.

  “But it wasn’t because of being dropped.”

  “What? Why is it retarded then?”

  “Because Kera was doing shit she shouldn’t have when she was pregnant. Drinking and drugs and shit. I mean, a lot of folks do it, but she musta been doing a whole hell of a lot of them to make her baby retarded.”

  “Dang,” Bacon sang. Then he thought about it. “Kera. You mean saved Kera? The chick who work at the bank, Kera.”

  “Yup, the one and only. Don’t let that saved shit fool you, Bacon.”

  He couldn’t believe what he heard, but that gave him the leeway he needed.

  “Damn, so what’s up with that Q nigga?”

  “Don’t know.”

  Bacon looked at Foxy. “Girl please, you know everything. How you gonna sit there and tell me you don’t know what’s going on with him.” Bacon wanted to know if the streets had been talking about his shooting. He hadn’t heard anything and it had been almost a week since it happened.

  “I’m not telling you shit else about him, Bacon. Last time I did, you ended up trying to kill him. That was so fucked up what you tried to do.”