by Mason Dixon
Raq’s stomach sank when Ice cocked his head. Whenever he did that, it meant something bad was about to happen.
Her eyes downcast, JoJo delicately placed the box containing the pregnancy test on the bench. “Can we talk about this in private?”
“There’s nothing you need to say to me you can’t say in front of my people. What’s up?”
“Um.” JoJo scratched her head as if she was trying to dig up the right answer to Ice’s question. “I was going to tell you.”
“When? When you started to show? What kind of business do you think I’m running here? Your fight’s canceled and so are you.” He snapped his fingers. Bigfoot and Winky stepped forward. “My associates will show you out.”
“But I thought we were tight,” JoJo said as Bigfoot and Winky took her by the arms and began to drag her out of the room.
“You thought wrong.”
“You know the baby’s yours, right?”
“Oh, snap,” Raq said. She had no idea Ice and JoJo had been kicking it. She knew he used to get around, but she thought he had kept his dick on lockdown since he and the Black Dahlia had started knocking boots.
Ice turned on JoJo, his voice as cold as his name. “Like I said, you thought wrong.”
JoJo’s eyes pleaded with him to change his mind, but she was old news as soon as the door closed behind her.
“What are you two waiting for?” Dez asked. He pointed toward the toilet stalls at the back of the room. “Hop to it.”
“Are you serious?” Raq asked. “You know how I roll. All the girls I’ve been with are shooting blanks. I don’t need this.”
She tried to hand the box back, but Dez wouldn’t take it.
“Miracles happen. Now go piss on a stick and pray it doesn’t turn blue.”
Raq dutifully opened the home pregnancy test and headed to a toilet stall. Bathsheba took the stall next to hers. Raq watched Dez’s alligator shoes pace back and forth outside the stall as she held the test stick under her and tried not to pee on her hand. “Is someone going to take JoJo’s place tonight or are we going to forfeit the fight?”
“And lose out on a chance to make some money? Screw that. Ice and I were thinking. We’re going to watch both your fights. Whoever has the more impressive showing will earn a chance to double her money tonight. How does that sound?”
Raq didn’t like the idea of taking money out of Bathsheba’s mouth, but she could use the extra bread.
“It sounds like you’d better get ready to pay me.”
She opened the stall door and tossed Dez the negative test. Dez jumped back as if she’d thrown a bucket of urine at him.
“Congratulations,” he said, carefully holding the test stick between two fingers. “You get paid tonight.” He dropped the test stick into a plastic bag like he was a cop collecting evidence at a crime scene. Then he banged on the door to Bathsheba’s stall. “How’s it coming in there? You didn’t drown, did you?”
Bathsheba flushed the toilet and unlocked the door. “Shy bladder.”
Dez glanced at the test stick before he bagged it up. “Two for two. Now let’s make this money.”
“Bet,” Raq said, giving him a pound.
Ice held his cell phone away from his ear and covered the speaker with his hand so whoever he was talking to couldn’t hear what he was about to say. He kept his shit so tight only a select few knew all the things he was into. He knew. Dez knew. Until today, she thought she did, too, but if he was kicking it with JoJo without her catching wind of it, there was no telling what else she was in the dark about. “Make me proud,” he said, sounding like the father she’d never had. “I’ll see you out there.”
“When do we find out who gets to go twice?” Bathsheba asked.
“Competitive. I like it. I won’t make you wait too long, but don’t get so hung up on impressing me you forget to handle your business.” Ice put the cell phone back to his ear. “Hey, baby. I know you wanted to rent someplace upscale for your album release party, but I think we need to stay away from tuxes and black ties this time out. We should rent the Apollo instead. That way, we can show you’re taking over New York but still keep it street. You can’t try to be Jay-Z until you have his album sales.”
“Forget his album sales,” Raq said under her breath. “I’d rather have his wife.”
“I heard that,” Dez said. “Beyoncé’s about as fine as my new whip.”
“Your Navigator’s righteous, but its curves can’t compare with Mrs. Carter’s.”
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”
“Do you really think you’re going to outdo me tonight?” Raq asked after everyone cleared out.
“I can dream, can’t I?”
Raq didn’t let Bathsheba’s broad grin distract her from what was important. “Are you dreaming of trying to replace me, too, or just JoJo?”
Bathsheba’s smile quickly faded. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Are you sure about that? I’ve worked hard to establish my position. You’re coming up behind me awful fast. Are you sure you aren’t trying to use me to get ahead? All these questions you keep asking about Ice and his operation have me thinking you’re trying to make some moves.”
Bathsheba moved toward her. “What’s gotten into you? I’m not trying to come between you and Ice, but, yes, I am using you.”
“Say what?” Raq had hoped her instincts were wrong. She had hoped the voice in the back of her head that kept telling her she couldn’t trust anyone but herself was wrong this time.
“I’m using every piece of advice you give me so I can become as good a fighter as you are.”
Raq felt relief wash over her like water from a baptismal pool. “It’s good to have a goal,” she said with a laugh.
“You don’t think I can reach it?”
Raq saw the determined look on Bathsheba’s face and noted the defiant set of her jaw. “I think you can do anything you set your mind to.”
“Including taking you out after we get paid? I don’t want you to always be the one doing the asking.”
Raq ran a fingertip across Bathsheba’s cheek. Bathsheba’s eyes grew wide at her touch. Raq watched the pupils darken as desire crossed Bathsheba’s features. “It doesn’t matter who’s asking as long as the answer’s yes, right?”
“You’re a hard one to figure out.”
“You’re not trying to give up on me, are you?”
“I’m too stubborn to give up that easily.” A knock on the door let them know it was time for Bathsheba to head to the ring. “Are you going to watch me fight?”
“I want to, but I don’t want you looking at me when you should be keeping both eyes on your opponent. Remember everything we’ve been working on and you’ll be fine. You can tell me all about it during the steak dinner you’re going to buy me tomorrow night.”
“Steak? I thought I was only going to be on the hook for a two-piece at Miss Marie’s. After what you said at the Peking Gourmet, I thought you were a cheap date.”
“Not when someone else is paying.”
Bathsheba thought Raq was kidding about the steak dinner. A burger and fries seemed more her speed than a T-bone and a baked potato. But Bathsheba thought she might be on to something. If she took Raq to a steakhouse in downtown Baltimore instead of a cheap fast food joint in the Middle East, the change of scenery might shake her up enough to spill secrets she might not be willing to part with in the tight-knit confines of the ’hood.
She put her head down and headed to the ring. As an unknown commodity, she didn’t know how the crowd would receive her. The lingering boos for Sabrina were so loud, they drowned out any cheers that might have greeted the announcement of her name.
She bounced on her toes as the referee recited the instructions. Sabrina had been animated as she taunted the crowd on her way to the ring, but she displayed a curious lack of energy as she stood flat-footed in the center of it.
“Who are you trying to be, the Energizer Bunny?”
“What’s the matter?” Sabrina asked when Bathsheba didn’t respond to her question. “Cat got your tongue?”
Bathsheba held up her fists. “In the ring, I like to do all my talking with these.”
“Then let’s chat.”
As she headed to her corner to await the opening bell, Bathsheba told herself not to take Sabrina lightly. Though she had chemicals coursing through her body and slathered on it, she looked to be in pretty decent shape. Her record wasn’t scintillating, but she had racked up enough wins to earn Bathsheba’s respect.
When the bell rang, Bathsheba approached Sabrina warily. She slowly circled the ring as Sabrina stalked her, threw lazy jabs, and tried to draw her into a clinch so she could rake her knuckles across Bathsheba’s eyes.
Bathsheba easily avoided both Sabrina’s punches and her clumsy attempts at an embrace. The crowd began to whistle and yell for more action, but Bathsheba wasn’t about to let them bait her into doing something stupid. She needed to stick to her game plan. The process might not be pretty, but she didn’t care how she looked as long as she came away with the win. She could be flashy another day. If she lost, she might not get another fight. Then the entire investigation might be in jeopardy.
“That’s it. That’s the way,” Zeke said, calling out encouragement from his seat in the audience. “Feel her out and find your rhythm.”
Bathsheba nodded to indicate she had heard what he said. Zeke was such a good teacher. Unselfish, generous with his time, and eager to share his strategic acumen. He deserved to get hooked up with a boxer who possessed the talent and skills to succeed and a willingness to listen to someone who could help him maximize both. Raq could have been that boxer. If she managed to free herself from Ice’s clutches, she still might be.
When the bell rang to end the round, Bathsheba felt the crowd getting restless. They were there to see a show. So far, she hadn’t put on much of one. She thought she had landed enough punches to win the round on points, but the bloodthirsty crowd wanted to see knockouts, not decisions. She told herself to be patient, however, and wait for an opening instead of forcing the issue.
She got what she was looking for in the middle of the second round.
Sabrina missed with a wild right and left herself vulnerable. Bathsheba caught her on the chin with a left hook and sent her to the canvas. Bathsheba trotted to a neutral corner while the referee began his count. She wished he would hurry things along, but he seemed intent on taking his time.
When the count reached six, Sabrina pulled herself up on all fours and shook her head in an attempt to clear the cobwebs. At eight, she reached for the ring rope and tried to pull herself to her feet. She got halfway up before her legs gave out and she fell to her knees.
“Ten!”
The referee waved his arms and signaled that the fight was over.
Bathsheba felt both satisfaction and relief when she thrust her arms into the air. She hadn’t been in the ring since her days at the academy. Though the circumstances had changed, the thrill of victory remained the same.
“I knew you had it in you,” Raq said when Bathsheba made it back to the locker room, “but let me show you how it’s done.”
Raq’s fight ended almost as soon as the opening bell rang. The first punch she threw was a devastating right that put her opponent to sleep. Her second fight, the one she contested in JoJo’s absence, didn’t last much longer.
Watching Raq in action, Bathsheba hoped she would never have to climb in the ring against her. Raq’s superior height and reach would negate any advantages Bathsheba’s speed might garner. And as for power, Raq had the edge there, too. If they ever found themselves at odds, Bathsheba didn’t like her chances of winning.
“Everyone has a weakness,” she said to herself as the main bout began. “Here’s hoping I find hers before she finds mine.”
Chapter Eleven
Raq was in a good mood. She had money in her pocket, food in her belly, a beautiful woman by her side, and the envy of all the people who had their eager faces pressed against the front window of Miss Marie’s. The people on the outside couldn’t see anything through the closed blinds, but that didn’t stop them from trying. She had been in their position once. Now she was on the inside looking out instead of the outside trying to see in. She liked the view better from here.
Miss Marie’s usually opened every morning at eleven, but it was almost noon and the doors were still locked. Raq and nearly a dozen members of Ice’s crew occupied the booths and tables. No one looked like they planned to leave any time soon. If the staff didn’t like it, they knew better than to complain. If they did, their asses would be on the street before they could get the words out.
Raq normally got her money and split so she could be out of sight by the time the judgmental church ladies started lining up for their after-service meals, but Bathsheba had convinced her to stick around. Raq was glad she had decided to give in. For the first time in years, she felt like she was part of a family.
She wiped her mouth with her paper napkin after she finished her lunch. The smothered pork chops she had ordered were so good she wanted to lick the gravy off the plate. As she leaned forward in her seat, she tapped her pocket with her fingers to make sure her pay envelope was still there.
Dez never announced how much everyone got paid when he handed out the cash each week, but Raq could tell by the thickness of the envelopes who the top earners were. Half Pint got a fat envelope each time out, but she was willing to put her take up against his any day. Especially this week. She was sitting on two or three thousand, easy. That second fight on Friday had put her over the top. JoJo’s loss was her gain.
Instead of handing over most of her earnings to Zeke for safekeeping, she planned on holding on to all of this week’s ducats herself. She’d need every one of them when she went to the Black Dahlia’s album release party in New York. Ice had extended the invitation personally, and she planned to take him up on it.
She could hitch a ride with someone from the crew if she chipped in on gas money, but she didn’t plan on sharing a hotel room with any of them when they arrived. She didn’t know how much a hotel in New York would run her, but she doubted the reservation would come cheap. The expense would be worth it, though. She’d never been to the Big Apple before, and she wanted to see if it was everything everyone made it out to be. She didn’t have enough scratch to make it rain in all of the clubs she and the crew would undoubtedly visit while they were there, but she had enough to get her through the weekend. And if Ice was footing the bill for the party, he would be popping bottles all night. High end or cheap, free liquor was free liquor.
Man. She couldn’t wait to get the party started.
“Do you like rap music?” she asked.
Bathsheba stirred the melting ice in her orange soda with her straw. “Some of it. Not all.”
“You like the Black Dahlia, though, right?”
“I’ve heard her stuff. Her beats are dope, but her rhymes need work.”
“Whoa. Don’t say that too loud.” Raq looked around the room to see if anyone had heard. Thankfully, everyone else seemed to be too distracted by their hot meals and cold cash to pay attention to anything else. She lowered her voice in case someone was playing possum, spying on crewmates and ratting them out to Ice for a few extra bills in next week’s envelope. There were few things she hated more than snitches. When you swore loyalty to someone, you weren’t supposed to turn on them for love or money. “I’m not saying I don’t agree with you, but you don’t want to get caught saying something bad about Ice’s girl.”
“I hear you. Thanks for the heads-up. The Dahlia must have been who Ice was talking to on the phone before the fights Friday night. Did
he really rent out the Apollo for her?”
“Yeah, and the party’s going to be off the hook. Everybody who’s anybody is going to be there. If you want to go, I can get you in.”
Bathsheba seemed jazzed by the idea of being able to see celebrities in person instead of in a music video or in the movies. Her reaction made Raq feel important.
“I’d love to go, but I don’t know if I’d be able to get off work. Since I’m a temp, I can’t be asking for time off. I have a hard enough time making thirty hours as it is. I can’t afford to give any of them away.”
“Money isn’t everything,” Raq was surprised to hear herself say.
For her, money had been the be-all and end-all for as long as she could remember. Things were different now that her pockets were fat, but the knot she was sitting on now wouldn’t last long. The trip to New York would take most of it. Then she’d be back to setting aside as much money as she could as she saved for a future she wasn’t certain she would ever reach. Today, though, thoughts of the future paled in comparison with thoughts of the present. Thoughts of making Bathsheba happy. Seeing her smile. Watching her flash those dimples at everyone she met and being the lucky woman who got to take her home at the end of the night. That was worth any price she had to pay.
“Call in sick. Tell your supervisors you’re coming down with something. What are they going to do, knock your door down to take your temperature and give you chicken soup if they find out you have a fever? No. They’ll tell you to stay away as long as you can because they don’t want to catch what you have.”
Bathsheba smiled. “You have it all figured out, don’t you?”
Raq felt her cheeks redden. “I just want to show you a good time, that’s all. You trained hard, you won your first fight, and you’re almost guaranteed to get another one. Now it’s time to celebrate.”
Bathsheba seemed impressed by all the things she had accomplished in so short a time. Raq certainly was. “Well. When you put it that way.”
“So is that a yes?”
Bathsheba thought for a minute, which was fifty-nine seconds longer than Raq could stand. “Yeah, it’s a yes.”
