The guard checked the list he held in his hand, and then waved Trap through. It was crazy, Trap thought, stepping inside. The club wasn’t even full yet, and still there was a line. The first thing that hit him inside was the décor, which was extremely modern, with lots of glass, chrome and LED lighting. The system also grabbed his attention. It was almost deafening.
“What up, my dude?” Bacon shouted.
“Hey!” Trap had been caught off guard. He and Bacon exchanged handshakes and quickly embraced. “What it do?”
“They called me and told me you were down here.”
“Man, just checking out this club of yours. This place is off the chain!”
“Glad you like it.”
“I see you got the old school bumping!”
“Yeah.” Bacon nodded, and placed his arm on Trap’s back, guiding him through the club. “After hearing that music at the bar the other night, I immediately had my DJ switch up the rotation. That shit took a brother back.”
“They don’t make music like they used to.”
“I been thinking about starting up a record label and fixing that shit.”
“That would be off the hook,” Trap told him. “Inject a little old-school flavor into the market. Man, people will eat that shit up.”
Bacon guided Trap up the stairs and into the club’s management office. The management office had a wall of floor-to-ceiling glass windows so that one could have a panoramic view of the entire club. Bacon seated himself behind a massive desk, while Trap took in the bird’s-eye view of the club.
“So, what you think about my idea of a label that puts out old school–sounding music?”
“I think it’s a hit. A big hit.” Trap turned and walked to the desk and took a seat opposite Bacon. “I got another moneymaking idea, too.”
“Oh, yeah?” Bacon lifted an eyebrow. “What’s that?”
“I want to start up a magazine. I want it to be like a real hood type of magazine, profiling niggas trying to come up on the legit side. You know, niggas in the hoods all around the country, opening up businesses and shit. No matter what it is, if you starting a business—a clothing line, a dry cleaner, a detail shop, whatever—the magazine will cover it. I just want to profile brothers and sisters doing things in the hood. Throw some fly whips in there, feature some underground musicians, authors, artists, up-and-coming muthafuckas. Add some fly cribs in there, maybe profile some cities and some projects, some vacation spots that niggas hit and some events like the Magic Show, Black Bike Week, the Kappa Beach Party and shit like that. I think it’ll be a fly-ass magazine.”
Bacon thought about what Trap had just proposed, then nodded. “That shit do sound fly. I’ll read that bitch.”
“You interested in going in on it with me?”
Again, Bacon nodded. “I might. Put me something together and I’ll take a serious look at it.”
“Bet.”
“But in the meantime, I think we can do business on some other shit.”
“Oh yeah?”
“What kinda ticket you got?”
“I’m giving up seventeen.”
“I can do you fifteen five,” Bacon told him.
“Thatta work?”
“Fuck it, I’ll do you fifteen.” Bacon allowed the numbers to dance around in his head. He knew that Trap was a baller. Judging by his jewels, his girl’s jewels, their whips and their conversation, he was moving weight. That meant that he was a prize catch. If he was moving ten, or fifteen, or twenty of them thangs a month, then that meant some nice profits for him, Bacon surmised. He could be moving even more than that. And if he was moving twenty to fifty birds a month, then he was really a prize catch. So hell yeah, he would give him them thangs for fifteen.
“Fifteen?” Trap asked. Damn, he thought. That price would save me two g’s off of each bird. He would definitely have to thank Laquisha for befriending Red. Fucking with this nigga Bacon was going to be a for sure win. “Shit, you got a deal.”
“Speaking of the Magic Show, when’s the last time you been out to Vegas?”
“Me and Quisha went about two months ago. We flew out there and gambled and just chilled.”
“Man, we gonna have to hit up Vegas together. I got a little bitch that works at the Bellagio. She might have a friend for you.”
Trap shrugged.
Bacon rose. “Let’s go downstairs and get some drinks.”
“Drinks on you?”
“You making all the money now, big-timer.”
“This yo’ club, I know you can hook us up with some free drinks.”
“What you drinking?”
“Man, I was down in Florida with my boy about a month ago, and I fell in love with them mojitos. Yo, them joints is off the hook.”
“Man, we drinking real nigga shit.” Bacon laughed. “I got some Johnny Walker Black Label.”
“I ain’t drinking that rot-gut shit. I’m a smooth nigga.”
Both men laughed.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Laquisha looked around, taking in her surroundings. Red’s neighborhood was filled with high-dollar mansions. A security guard stood at the gated entrance, while well-manicured, tree-lined streets welcomed visitors and residents inside. Bacon’s house itself was a massive two-story French estate home. It had a pitched slate roof and a stone exterior, with cast stone accents. A large circular drive welcomed visitors to the 8,000-square-foot crib. Laquisha was definitely impressed.
Red opened the door.
“I haven’t even rung the doorbell!” Laquisha said, greeting her.
“Girl, Bacon got this place rigged with cameras inside and out,” Red told her. “Come on in.”
Laquisha followed Red through the house and out the back door. Red had set up some champagne next to the hot tub.
“Did you bring your bathing suit?”
“I did.” Laquisha smiled. “Just like you told me to.”
Red stepped into the warm hot tub and sat back and relaxed. Laquisha pulled off her wrap skirt, revealing that her top was actually part of her bikini. She kicked off her flip-flops and climbed into the water with Red.
“Girl, this is what I’m talking about,” Laquisha told her. “Chillaxing in a nice hot tub.”
Red poured some Moët in two crystal, long-stemmed glasses. She handed Laquisha hers.
“Thank you,” Laquisha said. “Girl, I love some Moët.”
“Me, too. I love it better than Dom P.”
“Your house is off the chain!”
Red looked around the yard. “It is nice.”
“This is what I’m talking about. I’ve been telling Trap that we need a crib. I would love to get my hands on one like this.”
“A few months ago you could have. I had this mother on the market.”
“Get out of here.”
“Uh-uh. I’m serious.”
“Now why on earth would you sell this beautiful house?”
“A long story.”
Laquisha took a sip from her champagne flute. “We got time. We just chilling.”
“Girl, Bacon was locked up, and had a Star Wars release date before he won his appeal. There was no need for me to keep a place this big. I was going to sell it and go and get me a loft overlooking the city center.”
“I hear you. But I just couldn’t imagine giving up this crib. Girl, please.” Laquisha shook her head. “Not me. I’da had to move somebody up in here with me, but I wouldn’t be giving up my crib.”
“Girl, been there and done that. I gave these bitches a place to stay and all kinds of shit happened. A jealous bitch ended up shooting up my crib, bitches was stealing and shit. It was too much drama.”
“That’s a shame. Give a bitch a hand, and they’ll bite the muthafucka off.”
Red laughed. “Girl, ain’t that the truth. Hell, I might be putting this sucker back on the market.”
“Girl, stop!”
“I’m serious!”
“Sell your crib?”
Red n
odded. “But don’t tell Bacon. I don’t want it to get back to him yet.”
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I just want to ease him into the idea. We really don’t need a place this big. It’s just me and him.”
“And what if you have kids?”
Red waved her hand over her body. “And ruin this figure? I don’t think so.”
Laquisha threw her head back in laughter. “Girl, you’re crazy.”
Both women sipped from their champagne glasses.
“I wonder if I can get Trap interested in buying it?” Laquisha said.
“You think he might?”
“I can work on him. Besides, once he sees this place he’ll love it.”
“Well, if you decide to do something, I’ll help you. I’m also a licensed real estate agent.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“I would have never known that.”
“I love selling real estate. I don’t get to do it much anymore because Bacon don’t want me to work, but I own my own real estate company.”
“Get the hell outta here!”
“For real, I do. I took over Schottenstein Realty after my friend died, and I changed the name to Gomez Realty. We’ve been rolling for a while now.”
“Red, your life is so interesting.”
“Girl, please. You don’t know the half of it. My life is like a soap opera on steroids, mixed with three or four Lifetime movies and a couple of hood movies.”
Laquisha laughed. “I feel you.”
“Girl, I grew up in the projects, poor, and have struggled for every inch of everything that I got.”
“That’s why I like you, Red. You real. I could tell from the moment I met you that you wasn’t no fake bitch.”
“I like you, too.”
“And I think Trap and Bacon done hit it off.”
“Girl, them niggas is talking about going to Vegas together.”
“I heard. Ain’t that a bitch. And they ain’t talking about taking us.”
“Yeah, them dirty-dick muthafuckas is probably going down there to gamble and fuck with some bitches.”
“Girl, I’ll cut Trap’s dick off!”
Red laughed. “As long as Bacon don’t bring home nothing he ain’t leave with. Just pay me, and make sure that I’m good. Don’t give no bitch nothing but some dick and maybe a stick of bubblegum, and I’m good.”
“You wild! Me, I’d kill Trap. I done put too much into that nigga to let another bitch get some. I’d kill his black ass.”
“Hey, maybe we need to plan our own vacation.”
“How about the Caribbean? Since they are going to Vegas, maybe we should go to Jamaica?”
“Or how about the Bahamas?”
“What about the Virgin Islands?”
“Trinidad and Tobago?”
“Girl, let’s hit Turks and Caicos and see what Lisa Raye is up to.”
“Maybe we can get us a governor.”
“Girl, I would make a good first lady!”
Red lifted her leg out of the water. “I can just see myself strolling the beach and catching a fine-ass, all muscled-up Caribbean brother.”
“A Dexter St. Jock, like Eddie Murphy called him!”
“Oooh, come get some first lady poohnanny.”
The two of them broke into hysterical laughter. The Moët was having an effect on them.
“Girl, look at this house!” Laquisha said, examining the backyard landscaping.
“It’s yours if you want to buy it.”
“I’ma have to give Trap all kinds of pussy to loosen him up and get him to want to spend like this.”
“The power of the pooty tang!” Red said, lifting her glass in toast.
“The power of the pooty tang!” Laquisha repeated, laughing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Detective Thomas rang the doorbell and waited patiently. He was much better prepared today than he had been the last time he visited. This time, although he was ready for the peep show, he was also determined to get to the bottom of Ezekiel’s death. Something wasn’t right with Raven. She didn’t seem like the killer type, but in this day and age one just never knew.
He had come across many girls like her in his career; most of the time, they weren’t guilty, but they could lead him directly to the guilty party. He knew that Raven knew something that she wasn’t revealing, and he also knew that with a little pressure, most of the time girls like her broke down and confessed. They just needed a reason to tell what they knew, and someone to tell it to. Detective Thomas would position himself to be that someone. He would become her friend, and in time she would open up and tell what she knew. He just needed to be in her face more often, asking questions and letting her know that this thing wasn’t just going to go away. A lot of times that’s what the women thought. They figured that if they could bury their heads in the sand like ostriches, things would just go away. He had to let her know that this was a murder case, and that it would be worked to the very end.
• • •
Red picked up the remote and changed the television to the security channel to see what the camera at the front entrance was monitoring. She saw that it was Detective Thomas at the front door. She had no time to run and jump in the shower again and wet herself; besides, it would be too suspicious if she were just getting out of the shower a second time. No, she needed something else. She needed to put her plan into effect immediately.
Red raced into her master bath and looked in the mirror. She needed to look like a woman who had been put through the wringer. She attacked her hair, messing it up, and then raked her hand through it trying to make it look like she’d at least tried to fix herself up. She needed puffy eyes, and maybe a reddened face. She slapped herself across her cheek as hard as she could.
“Come on, girl,” she said, breathing out through her mouth. “You can take it.”
She slapped herself three more times as hard as she could. Red examined herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were now a coppery red, and her eyes were watery. She looked battered.
The doorbell rang once again, and Red rushed to the door and opened it.
“Hello?” she said, sniffling.
“Oh, I was beginning to think that no one was home.”
“I’m home,” Red said quietly.
Detective Thomas noted a tinge of sadness in her voice. Previously she was usually more vibrant, more fiery, more energetic. He sensed there was something wrong.
“May I come in?” he asked.
Red stepped aside, allowing the detective to enter.
Thomas walked into the home and looked around. The house was filled with light because of the massive windows throughout. Each of the windows had long, golden, silky drapes that ran to the floor.
Red motioned toward the couch. “You can have a seat.”
Thomas complied and Red sat across from him in the oversize La-Z-Boy.
“Did I catch you at a bad time?” Thomas asked.
“No, why?” Red ran her hand through her hair, giving herself an even more unkempt appearance.
For the first time, Thomas noticed that her face was red and that her cheeks were puffy. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Red looked around and fidgeted, avoiding eye contact with the detective.
“Something’s wrong,” Thomas told her, leaning forward. “Have you been crying?”
Red lowered her head and wiped away some tears. She shook her head and sniffled.
“Look, something’s the matter,” Thomas said, matter-of-factly. He felt that he might have created an opening. He wondered if she were crying because she knew something and wanted to tell. Perhaps it would be easier than he originally thought, he told himself.
“It’s nothing,” Red repeated, wiping her face again. “I’m sorry.”
“Raven, if you need someone to talk to, you can talk to me. I’m a good listener.”
“Thank you,” she acknowledged, “but my problems aren’t
your problems. You being a detective and all, I’m sure you already have more than enough on your plate.”
“It’s never too much if I’m helping a friend. You can talk to me about anything. Whatever it is, I’ll listen; I’ll give you my opinion if you ask for it, and if not I’ll just be a shoulder to cry on. So what’s wrong?”
Red looked off into the distance. “I just have so much on my shoulders right now. I feel like I’m about to explode.”
Thomas smiled. Chass told him that if he paid attention to Red, she’d fall for it. It was all about Red, he remembered Chass telling him, and he was hoping she was right. He was hoping that his listening to her would bring the confession he was waiting for.
“All my life, I’ve tried to please everybody, but nothing I do is good enough. People take advantage of you, they steal from you, they accuse you of things you haven’t done, they beat you, they—”
“Beat you?” Thomas recoiled, interrupting her. “Who’s beating you?”
Red rambled on. “You would never think that anyone close to you, who claims that they love you, would hurt you,” she said meekly, not answering his question. She leaned forward, covered her face and began crying again.
Thomas exhaled. He hadn’t expected this. He’d hoped that a confession was forthcoming, but now he felt bad for her. She was a beautiful woman, and no woman deserved to be beat up on by a man.
“Raven, leave him,” Thomas told her. “You don’t deserve this.”
“And do what?” Red quizzed. “Go where?”
“Go home to your parents,” Thomas suggested.
“Go home to my mother who still lives with her boyfriend who molested me when I was a child? I don’t think so! She put me out of the house because he was fucking me. From six years old to ten, that man took advantage of me. I’m not going back there at all!”
Thomas felt his heart drop into his socks.
Red broke down again. “I don’t have anywhere to go. Nobody to turn to.”
Thomas rose, walked around the coffee table and sat himself on the arm of her chair, where he began to comfort her. “You got me, Raven. I’m here for you.”
“He used to beat me for no reason,” Red said softly. “It had gotten better for a while because it stopped, but then he started accusing me of sleeping with someone else and giving away our money.”
The Dirty Red Series Page 55
