Fuck Larry, Moses, Jerry, Philip, Casey, Donovan, Ernest, Upshaw, Leonardo, and Blitz! Men like you taught me how to not care.
Fair exchange is just that . . . fair.
CHAPTER 52
Blitz
Day 3
Viola. That arrogant bitch.
Took two fans and all night to dry out my mattress. I opened my laptop this morning, downloaded, then uploaded Mrs. Viola Chambers to my social pages, CEO2930, with pleasure.
A few minutes later, a text came from Trymm, Damn, homey. Your tongue almost longer than Clydesdale.
That was a damn lie! Kohl hit me with, God almighty. Let the vagina say Amen! You, bruh, are an orator for sure.
Dallas followed up, I need a cigarette, yo.
That nigga didn’t smoke, but he was going to be on fire when I was done with him. Heading to The Ritz on Canal, I scanned the faces at the bar, sat next to a pretty young thing I knew Dallas would hound immediately.
“Put whatever she’s having on my tab,” I told the mixologist, then introduced myself, “I’m Roulet.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary,” she said, handing him her credit card. “This meal is on the government. I’m on official business today.”
“What agency?”
“Education.” She signed her receipt.
“Where?”
“New Jersey,” she answered.
She was too far away to use her to execute my next plan. “I’d be happy to show you around later. Lock me in. Let me know.”
After keying my number into her cell, she said, “That would be nice,” then exited the restaurant.
“Let me have a Hennessy, man.”
Just as I’d ordered, I’d heard, “Is this seat taken?”
Cuter. Younger. “It is now. I’m Roulet. And you are?”
“Debbie,” she said, smiling brilliantly. “Schexnider.”
I knew of quite a few people with the last name. Wasn’t digging into her family tree. Had to inquire, “You live here?”
“All my life,” she said, smiling wide.
“That’s awesome.” I could tell Debbie’s personality was nothing like Viola Chambers’s. Debbie was way too trusting. “Debbie, sweetheart, I could use a friend.”
“Well, everyone says I’m friendly.”
“But are you single?” That part did matter. Some of the dudes in the NOLA wouldn’t hesitate to shoot anybody that messed with their woman. Dallas was not one to be fucked with.
“Kinda. Just broke up with my boyfriend,” she said, not sounding heartbroken in the least.
“Then you must allow me to not only buy you a drink, but to also treat you to lunch.”
Debbie was perfect for Dallas. We laughed. Shared relationship stories. Mine were complete lies. Imagined hers were some version of her reality. Nothing she said mattered.
“That’s the nicest thing a man has done for me,” she said. “Thank you, Roulet.”
Shifting my eyes to the side in disbelief, I told her, “Cool. I need you to position yourself to meet my boy. But don’t let him in on our plan. Be sure to allow him to make the first move. Over the next four weeks, be clingy, needy, attentive, but not too assertive. Can you do that for a hundred dollars?” What I was really asking was, could she handle the situation without fucking it up?
“Basically, you want me to distract him.”
Close enough. More like dick-stract. “Exactly.”
“What if I start to like your friend?”
Debbie’s short blond hair was sexy. Wanted to touch it. That would be inappropriate. “This charade ends in about a month. After that, it’s up to you.”
“A hundred dollars?” she asked. “To go out with him for a month?”
“Yup. That’s for you. Let that nigga pick up the tab. Li’l Dizzy’s Café. Tomorrow morning.”
Debbie wasn’t as clever as Lema, but I gave her a 50 percent deposit at the bar. We exchanged numbers. I texted her a photo of Dallas.
She held a pen in her hand, placed a white paper napkin in front of her. “Am I supposed to approach him?”
Got the feeling Debbie was going to do things her way. Long as they met that was all that mattered. “Wear something nice. I’ll text you when he’s inside. Sit at a table close to him if you can. If you can’t, make sure you pass by him. Make eye contact. And put that pretty smile on him,” I told her.
She flashed wider. I noticed her bottom teeth were slightly crooked. Trymm would care about that, D wouldn’t give a fuck.
I texted Dallas, Meet me at Dizzy’s in the morning. Won’t take long.
CHAPTER 53
Elizabeth
Day 4
“I want your life,” my friend Nefertiti said over the phone as my driver parked in my private space at the office building on Geary Street.
Nefertiti was a fifty-year-old technology genius. She created apps for major corporations and small companies, but her brain did not compute when it came to dating men. Married four times. Divorced four. She’d won custody of the kids from her first husband, but had lost her cat, who was like her baby, to her last ex.
“Give me a moment,” I said to my chauffeur, waited for him to get out of the car and close the door, then told her, “Gurl, you know I always say, you’ll wear wedding gown number five before I put on one.”
“You’re jaded,” she said.
By what? “Why is it that when a woman dates like a man, other women think we hate men? I love dick and I’ve got my own dollars. Einstein’s bed was like a soaked sponge after I gushed all over him.” Men patted themselves on the back when they made a woman squirt.
“Not the gush!” she exclaimed. “Tell me again, how do I make myself squirt?”
Nefertiti’s status reverted to single a year ago. She was too trusting of men. Always letting them determine her worthiness and her sexual satisfaction, or dissatisfaction. I knew what I wanted from a man like Einstein, before I said hello.
“Stop relying on a man to make anything happen for your body. Practice your Kegels. I’m going to send you another G-spot gift package, and you’d better use everything in this one. I’ve got to go. I’ll call you when I get to Beijing.”
“Wait. On the final leg of your trips, bring me back a tall, sexy Barcelona man, with that shiny black hair and an olive complexion,” Nefertiti said. “At least six-two and looking for a wife.”
She could do that herself, if she’d meet me in Spain. It was a fact. Spanish and Italian men adored black American women. The only reason a black woman in America dealt with the bullshit African-American men put them through was because most sistahs had no idea how much they were loved by men around the world, since they’d never traveled outside of the country.
“Women who live by the dick, they die by the dick,” she said.
“Absolutely. You know my motto. A man can never outfuck a woman. Life is short.... Dicks are shorter. Men who defined themselves by their dicks ain’t shit. Women must live to the fullest.” All of these things were true, but trying to convince women they were sexually superior was like beating life into a rock.
“Bye, Elizabeth. I love you. Text me when you land,” Nefertiti said.
“Love you, too,” I said. I wasn’t trying to change her, and she wasn’t judging me.
* * *
“Good morning, Ms. Dawson,” my assistant greeted me. “I’ve e-mailed and uploaded your itinerary to Slack, checked you in for your two o’clock from SFO to Beijing. Your driver will be back here at eleven o’clock to pick you up.”
“Thanks,” I said closing my office door. I heated water, inserted a mint tea bag, stirred in lemon and honey, then powered on my monitor. Scanning the images at the bottom of the screen, team USA, China, Emirates, Egypt, South Africa, and India were logged on for my Monday meeting.
“Team China, report first.”
The twenty-two-year-old Asian graduate out of UC, Berkeley, based in Beijing, was one of my shining stars. I’d see her face-to-face tomorrow.
> She answered, “Next week’s gross revenue projections are to increase by nine percent.”
“How’re we doing on human-hair bundles?” I asked.
“Up by sixty-two percent overall. The United States is still our largest consumer. The majority are repeat customers between thirty-five and fifty. Need to incentivize new African-American consumers twenty-five and younger. A lot of them are going natural. We also need to target non–African-American customers in that same age range. A hair app could be beneficial, where they can upload their picture, see themselves in any style. Braids, ponytails, bringing back the oversized afros could become trendy if we can get it to go viral via a celebrity that’s gorgeous, young, and cool. A fresh face could work well also. One of the gymnasts, or musical competition finalists.”
I finished my tea. Even when I liked their report, I seldom complimented my employees. That way they stayed motivated. “Maybe.” Powering on my coffee machine, I plopped in an Ethiopia dark-roast pod. “Send me a more detailed strategy in an hour. Canada, report.”
The president of the board opened my door without knocking and stepped into my office. “Hold reporting, team Canada,” he said. “I’ll get back to everyone within the hour. Elizabeth, I need for you to end the call. Now.”
I’d dealt with all types of crises on an almost daily. Learned most issues weren’t as serious as they initially seemed, but how dare he interrupt me! “Do you want to sit in on the rest of the team meeting, then we can speak?”
“Now,” he repeated.
“Everyone, I’ll send you an e-mail to reconvene.”
Powering off my monitor, I stood. “This is a surprise,” I commented, hoping his urgency was regarding a new acquisition. That could make up for his inconsiderate behavior. “I have to catch a flight shortly.”
“I know. Come with me to the conference room.”
Trailing him, I said, “I’ll have to continue the meeting after I land in Beijing.” He remained quiet. Peering through the glass window, I noticed the entire board of directors was present.
“Sit next to me,” the president said, then picked up the remote, pointed it at the screen on the wall. There I was, spread wide open, riding Blitz’s face.
“Is this you, Elizabeth?” The president stared at me.
I wanted to lie. Tell him no. But clearly it was me. I glanced at each of the members, then nodded.
“Respectfully, what you do in the privacy of your confinements is your prerogative. When a sex video of you goes viral, it’s our obligation to our shareholders to protect their interest. We have to let you go. Immediately. To protect the corporation, we won’t confirm or deny to our clients that this is you. No severance package. You can clear out your personal things only. Don’t touch the computer. Turn in your phone, tablet, and laptop.”
I went to my office. Three security officers stood by as I emptied my drawers.
Retrieving my luggage from the chauffeur, I exited the building, ordered an Uber on my phone, went directly to the airport, hopped the first nonstop flight to New Orleans.
CHAPTER 54
Blitz
Day 5
A ring at my front door got me out of bed at 10:00 a.m.
I looked outside, no one was there. At my feet was an express package. Opened it. Read, Acceleration of Mortgage. The entire balance to pay off my home was due in fifteen days, or the bank was starting the foreclosure process.
Slammed the door. “I told that dumb bitch I was paying it off!”
A call from an unidentified number flashed on my phone. I answered, “Hello,” hoping it was someone from the bank with sense that I could work out some kind of forbearance agreement with.
“Listen, Blitz. We need a good-faith payment on your debt at the casino. Two hundred, in two weeks,” he demanded.
“Three weeks and two days and I got you,” I told him.
Silence.
I said, “Hello? Hello?”
A call from Viola registered on my cell.
I sent superbitch to voice mail.
She called right back.
“Hey, what’s up?” I asked, with more pressing things on my mind. Squeezing toothpaste on my brush, I vigorously scrubbed up and down.
Calmly she said, “I’m in New Orleans. We need to talk in person about the defamatory post on your social.”
I spat in the sink, rinsed my mouth. “Oh, that.”
“ ‘Oh, that’?” She paused, then repeated, “ ‘Oh, that’?”
“I heard you the first time. Looka here, I have more important business to tend to, Mrs. Chambers. Talk to you la—”
She rudely interrupted, “No, you’re going to talk to me today. Face-to-face, Mr. Roulet. When and where can we—”
I ended the call. Put that bitch on BLOCK, then got dressed. She should’ve said some shit to hold my attention, like offering to replace my mattress, and she best not show up at my house. I know she didn’t come back to the NOLA over a post.
Getting in my sedan, I stopped at my bank. Didn’t bother signing in to speak with the only man that could assist me. I stood in his doorway.
“Hey, Blitz. How you doing, man?” Ralph waved at me with a come-hither gesture.
“Everything is everything,” I said, stepping into his office. I gripped the wooden arms of the chair, picked it up, set it down as close as I could to his desk. Leaning forward, I got straight to the point. “I need to withdraw five hundred grand.”
Ralph closed his door. His head moved left and right as he reclaimed his seat across from me. “No can do.”
“Why the fuck not? Let me borrow against my contribution, plus a little extra,” I demanded.
He shook his head. “Partial isn’t how it’s set up. You wanna close it? I can do that now. But just so you know, everyone will be notified.”
Fuck no! That was my crewe. Wasn’t going to betray them, but my ass was about to become homeless. Reconsidering the option, I was tempted to shut it down. I could reopen a new one, with half the amount and a different number.
“Give me a minute.” I was heated. My cheeks filled with air, then deflated. I couldn’t do that without jeopardizing having them cancel the challenge. Then I wouldn’t get shit.
“I’m drowning in three feet of water. I just need five hundred g’s, I’ll put it back before July thirtieth. Throw me a life preserver, man. No one will notice it’s missing if I borrow against it. Just this one time.”
“No, Blitz. I told you not to bring no illegal shit here, ya heard me.”
“I told you!” I paused, lowered my voice. Fuck! I wasn’t about to disclose my gambling situation. “Listen to me. I need this money.”
Ralph stood, removed his blazer from the coat rack, eased it on. “I need my job. And don’t even think about making another withdrawal from 0069. I won’t do it unless we let your father know in advance. Otherwise, you’ll have both of our heads in a guillotine at the same damn time. The best I can do is connect you with Irene Pitts. She’s a reliable source that does short-term, high-interest-rate loans.”
Quickly I asked, “How high?”
“Thirty days. Double return, something like that. I have to go. I have a lunch meeting. You should’ve taken a million instead of a quarter of a mil from 0069, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You want the number for the loan or what?” Ralph said, opening the door.
“Sure. But if this doesn’t work out, I’m going to close the account and open one under my name the same day?”
“With half the original?” Ralph asked. “But you, not me, will have to deal with your boys and possibly the IRS if they audit your ass. Point your friends to the terms and conditions they executed giving you signature authority to shut it down. Not sure what you’d tell the government, but damn sure nuff don’t mention the unscrupulous game y’all playing on females out there. And get yourself a lawyer. Maybe two.”
Ralph may have never wilded out on our level, but I was certain he, like us, was no stranger to fucking over
females. I locked in Irene’s number, left, drove to Jax Brewery to meet the crewe. Five days into the competition, shit was going south quick for my ass. I didn’t want to cross the fellas, but I might have to. I wasn’t losing my possessions, and I had to buy a new Rolex soon. I wore that watch every day.
Logging into the investment app, I saw my portfolio was performing worse than an escort that refused to spread her ass. Usually, when one stock was down, the other was up. Had no liquid resources that would make a significant change in time to bring my bills current. I was surviving off of my credit cards. Dad had taught me never to pay debt with debt.
Might have to dip back into 0069.
CHAPTER 55
Blitz
Day 9
Posted up at a table for four on the terrace at Jax Brewery. I was the first of the crewe to arrive. Dreading utilizing my next option, I took a deep breath, exhaled, dialed her number.
“There you are. Where’ve you been? We didn’t see or hear from you last weekend,” Mom answered.
“Sorry, Mom. I got caught up with all the concerts.” Truth was, my jaws were tired from eating one-point-five pussies a day. “I’m okay. Kind of got myself in a bind. Could use your help,” I said, taking in all the fresh air my lungs allowed.
Exhaling, I told the waitress, “It’s humid as hell. Let me get four glasses of ice water.”
“What is it? Did you come across an IPO you’re interested in?” my mother asked.
If I said yes, she’d give me whatever I wanted today, but I didn’t want to lie to my mother. There was no company with an initial public offering that I was considering buying shares from. I was supposed to be debt free, living off of my investments. I probably could’ve made money day trading the million, but that shit was like putting everything on a craps table.
Head Games Page 26
