I stroked on my eyeliner and red velvet lipstick. “Watch out, Vegas! Here comes the hottest, the finest, the sexiest, the prettiest bitch in town…Make some noooooooise for Reeeeddddd Vel-vet!”
Slipping on my iridescent stilettos, I decided I could star in my own Vegas show, with bright lights swarming around me, Oscar style. Forget that. One day I was going to become an actress. Bouncing to the floor a few times to warm up, I strutted out of my room like I owned the entire casino. I saw a couple guys I could get down with on a one-nighter, but they were busy shaking dice while watching me shake my ass. Damn. Having a bank to build a spot like this was seriously what was up. I browsed a few more of the designer stores, peeked inside the club, then I headed to the bar for a drink that somebody else was going to buy. I was banking that two grand I’d gotten from Grant. Did he always keep that kind of money on him?
I wanted a man like Grant. If he were mine, Grant could fuck whomever he wanted whenever he wanted and wherever he damn well pleased. If the chick was badder than me, I’d break her off for keeping us happy. The worst thing a man could do was creep with a chick that gave him stress. That meant she was wearing both of us out when he came home unhappy. What was the big deal about women double-dunkin’ dicks?
Monopolizing men like Trevor and Tolliver couldn’t do shit for me no more. Thinking of Tolliver made me think about his wife, and thoughts of his wife reminded me to call my mother to check on her and my son.
“Velvet, where are you?” Mama asked, sounding worried. “Did you turn off your phone?”
“Chill out. I’m fine, Ma. I’m at the Wynn. This place is fab-u-listic!”
Quickly, Mama said, “Stay off the pole, Velvet.”
“Yeah, yeah. You still trying to tell me how to live my life? Honey already told me to stay off of everything.” Except a dick.
“She’s right, and you’re right. I owe you an apology, sweetheart. You were right. I should’ve listened to you. I never should’ve found Alphonso.”
“It’s okay, Ma,” I lied. No, she shouldn’t have. It was my life, not hers. It was my mistake, not hers. And she never should’ve gotten involved. Clearly, she’d made things worse for all of us, including Alphonso’s wife. “Where’s Ronnie?”
“Sleeping. He passed out in his clothes the minute we got back to the hotel. He had a ball at Disneyland. We’ll sit and talk with him about what happened when we all get back home. Okay?” Mama said, almost asking for my permission.
Whatever my mom wanted to do was good with me. She was and always would be my rock. I knew she had our best interests at heart. “I love you, Ma. I’m gonna enjoy. Viva Las Vegas, yeah! I’ll call you in the morning. What time does your flight get in?”
“Six in the evening.”
“Honey and I get in at three. I’ll pick you guys up. Oh, and Ma, I quit stripping.” I blew my mother a kiss into my phone, then hung up. A guy next to me caught the kiss in midair.
I snatched it back. “That was not for you.”
Smiling, he asked, “Can I buy you a drink?”
Mission accomplished. “Sure. What’s your name?’
Thrusting his chest forward, he said, “Pretty Ricky,” as though I should’ve known who he was. Wasn’t everybody in Vegas famous for something? He had nice, large teeth. Bleaching would’ve made them shine like diamonds.
“Where you from?” I asked him.
“Wherever I’m at.” He flipped open a stack of hundreds, spread them like a fan, then tossed a hundred-dollar bill on the bar. “You got a nice li’l frame there,” he said, leaning back and looking at my ass, which was hanging over the edge of the bar stool. “You out to make some change? I can make you famous.” He started fanning me with his money.
I ordered a double Patrón Silver, chilled. “You didn’t know?” I politely moved his arm out of my face. “I’m already famous,” I said. Checking him out, I fanned my twenty one-hundred-dollar bills in his face. I felt good having that much money to flaunt.
He was fine, but he had pimp written all over his half-perm, half-fake-ass, synthetic, silky, straight weave, which flowed midway down his back. His acrylic nails were longer than mine. His too-tight jeans, cowboy snakeskin boots, and button-down, collared shirt, with a T-shirt underneath, gave him away. All Pretty Ricky could do for me was buy me a drink or two. Regardless of whether or not a woman planned on having sex, a lady always ordered a double shot straight, because the drink lasted longer than the man.
“You good. I got you. Put that away before I break you.” He stared at me. “What’s your name?”
If he thought about touching my money, he’d have a stiletto up his ass and coming out of his balls before my money reached his pocket. “Red Velvet.”
He covered him mouth. “Damn. I heard about you. My boys told me about Red Velvet. Stripper, right? Stilettos, right? You outta the ATL, right?”
“Told you I was famous.”
“That ain’t you, bitch. You lying.”
I didn’t have shit to prove to him, but I felt like having a little fun. “Bartender, give me an unopened bottle of water,” I said, smiling at Pretty Ricky.
The bartender placed the bottle on the bar. I told Pretty Ricky, “You might wanna hold your glass. Here. Hold mine, too.”
I stood on the bar in my ankle-strap heels, squatted over the bottle, moved my thong aside, then eased the plastic sixteen-ounce bottle inside my pussy. I reached for Pretty Ricky’s hand, pushed out the empty water bottle, then sat back on my stool. I did that shit so quick, the bartender asked, “What happened?”
“Damn, baby. That’s what’s up,” said Pretty Ricky. “You gotta be on my team. I ain’t taking no for an answer. I’ll pay you double. Triple whatever I pay my other bitches.”
I wasn’t stupid or impressed. Pretty Ricky needed me more than I wanted him.
A woman sat next to Pretty Ricky and said, “She’s a bad bitch, huh?”
Pretty Ricky scrambled out of his seat and vanished. No comment. No bye. And he’d left his change on the bar.
I was still feeling upbeat and wonderful. I didn’t know what made me say to the woman, “You look like you could use a friend. May I buy you a drink with his money?” Perhaps I was in search of companionship above the waist, but I had nothing to lose. The people in Vegas made Vegas exciting. The dicks weren’t leaving the casino in droves, so I had time to pick a decent man to drop this pussy on.
“No, thanks. Let me get yours,” she said, looking at the bartender and nodding in my direction. “You’re new. What’s brings you here?”
“You’re a regular. You tell me,” I said, not willing to divulge that level of personal information. She could’ve asked my name instead. Damn.
She hunched her shoulders. “Not really sure. I guess I’m here because I didn’t want to be home alone, and I decided to quit my job tonight.”
“You too. Dang. I just quit my job, too. I’m Red Velvet. I have had an unbelievable night. Last few days actually,” I said, thinking about my son’s father.
“I’m Tiffany. Tiffany Davis. Pleased to meet you, Red Velvet.”
I sat there, with my mouth hanging open. I texted Honey: You won’t believe who I’m having a drink with at the main bar, near the waterfall. Come down here now!
CHAPTER 31
Sapphire
The world, my world, couldn’t possibly get any smaller. I hadn’t seen Pretty Ricky in years. Funny how time brought about a change. Pretty Ricky had never imagined he’d be running scared from me. After my return to Vegas as a cop, he’d successfully managed to stay out of my way. Seeing him and recalling how he’d abused me made me angry, but seeing him run made me smile on the inside. I held the power over him, and he knew it. I wished I had that kind of control over Grant.
Ordinarily, I wouldn’t have shown up at this casino, but I wanted a different venue, a place where I could relax and feel like I wasn’t in work mode. I was glad I’d gotten the money back from Summer. For the love of money, Valentino would come
running to me. Valentino loved money more than Summer, more than life. Any man that would kill for money would also die for money. For Valentino, which one would it be? There was no way I could ever kill all the pimps or save all the prostitutes, and honestly, I’d gotten tired of trying to help people who didn’t want my help.
Prostitution for some women was a preferred way to make a living. Wasn’t as though they couldn’t go out and get a respectable job. Prostitution wasn’t a living; it was an addictive lifestyle that endured because of the possibility of making a fast dollar—by the minute, not the hour—by making a man cum quickly. Virtually a same time exchange of money and the blow job was done. Wanna cum again?
Got more money?
Tonight I had no desire to arrest or shoot anyone. I’d simply planned to have a few drinks while reflecting on my life. I had to uncover the real reason I was unhappy. Why did I want Grant to make me happier than I made myself?
“I know you don’t know me,” Red Velvet said. “But you do know the person I want to introduce to you. Come upstairs with me for a minute.”
Was this overly hyper woman deranged? She’d just finished talking to Pretty Ricky. I knew why he’d left abruptly, but was Red Velvet one of his new girls? Why did she offer to buy me a drink? Now she wanted me to go upstairs with her. Where? “Why don’t you have your people come down here? I’ll wait.”
“I tried. She doesn’t want to. But you have to go up with me. Okay. I’ll let you hold my purse with my money and my identification just to prove I’m being honest.”
I took her purse, handed it to the bartender, then said, “Hold this until I get back.”
Red Velvet protested. “I don’t know him. You can’t give my purse to him to hold. I gave it to you.”
Opening my hand, I wiggled my fingers at the bartender. “Give it back,” I said. After handing Red Velvet the purse, I sat on the stool and continued sipping my drink.
Red Velvet opened her purse, stuffed her money in her halter, and tossed her purse on the bar. “You’d better not open my purse, or I’ma beat your ass when I get back, you hear me?” She looked at me, then said, “Let’s go.”
She could be my replacement. That was if she wasn’t afraid to kill. I had to have lost my damn mind. Why was I following this lunatic, big-booty chick to the elevator? Obviously, she didn’t really know who she was dealing with. If I decided to shoot her, I would pull my gun from between my titties and pow! I didn’t care how beautiful she was. I’d let her have it. I relaxed. What was the worst that could happen? I was inside the most secure hotel on the Strip. Even on the sixtieth floor, security observed everything.
“Step back,” Red Velvet told me as she tapped on the door. “Open up. It’s me, Velvet.”
The door opened a crack, and I heard a man’s voice. “What is it? Do you need more money?”
My heart stopped; my jaw dropped. I couldn’t see his face, but I’d recognize Grant’s voice anywhere.
“No, I need to talk to Honey,” Velvet insisted.
He said, “Honey went to sleep.”
“No, she didn’t,” Red Velvet said. “She just texted me to come upstairs. Let me in.” She motioned for me to come in, too.
Once I was inside the hotel room, my eyes widened. Honey’s eyes widened. We stood across the room from one another. This was the first time we’d seen one another since the day I’d given her the fifty million.
“Is this who you met at the bar?” Honey coyly asked Red Velvet. “How? Did you go looking for her? I didn’t ask you to do this, now did I?”
“No, she didn’t come looking for me, and I wasn’t looking for her. I don’t even know her,” I said in Red Velvet’s defense. Looking at Grant as he walked away without seeing me, I asked, “Why does she want us to meet?”
I couldn’t believe my eyes. Grant was fuck-tas-tic. My eyes lingered on his back as he disappeared into the bathroom. I couldn’t believe my ears. Was Honey pissed off with Red Velvet for bringing me to her room?
Honey smiled at me. “Come sit on the sofa for a minute. We have a lot to talk about.”
“We sure do,” I said, sitting across from her and wedging my back into the side of the sofa. I heard the shower going. I pictured the day Grant and I were in the shower. I relived how I’d dropped to my knees and sucked his big, beautiful dick. I wished I could go get in that shower with him right now and leave Honey and Red Velvet where they were. Why shouldn’t I get up and go in the bathroom with Grant, instead of looking at Honey, who was sitting across from me, with his pajama shirt on. It would be nice to feel Grant inside of me again.
“Have a seat,” Honey said to Red Velvet, motioning toward the chair across the room. Ignoring Honey, Red Velvet stood by the window.
Biting my bottom lip, I wasn’t amused with Honey’s attempt to control the tempo. Seriously, I asked her, “Where’s my money?”
“I’m not playing games with you, Tiffany,” said Honey. “You were the one who came to me, offering the money and claiming you wanted to help. I didn’t solicit it in any way. Stop acting like you didn’t give me that money. And this is the last time I’m having this conversation with you. I don’t know what made you change your mind, but I’m not giving it back. Read my lips. I am not giving the money back, not one penny.” Honey reached into her purse.
I reached into my bra.
“Here.” Honey handed me a folded piece of paper.
Whew. She almost got shot in the head on that one. Then I could have had Grant to myself.
“This is why Velvet invited you up,” said Honey.
Maybe I should shoot her. Glancing at the paper, I became speechless. Tears flooded my eyes. It was hard to swallow the lump in my throat. “Where’d you get this?”
Red Velvet stood quietly, gazing out the window.
“Your mother gave it to me,” Honey said softly.
“My mother? Yeah, right! How would you know my mother?” I said.
“I don’t,” Honey said.
Sadly, Velvet said, “Honey was looking for my son’s father. He just so happened to be married to your mother.” She never stopped staring out the window.
I asked Red Velvet, “You know Alphonso? How?”
Red Velvet kept staring out the window. “He raped me. I got pregnant. Had a baby. And he’s the father. I really don’t know him, but I do hate him. Men are fucking irresponsible liars who will say whatever to fuck whomever they want. Dirty old bastard. When they finish cuming, they act like it’s all our fault, like we got pregnant on our own, or we tricked them. And the reality is, whether what happened to me is my fault or not, I’m the one stuck with the responsibility of raising Ronnie. I don’t know what I’d do without my mother. Sometimes I wanna die so I don’t have to work so hard. Alphonso is the lucky one. He doesn’t have to do shit! He hasn’t served time in jail. He has not even paid child support. I haven’t figured out how to explain this to Ronnie. Maybe he’s better off not knowing.”
“He raped me, too,” I said. “Every day he came to my room, and he raped me.” I didn’t want to cry, but I couldn’t hold back the tears. This was the strangest thing that had ever happened to me.
Never did I think I’d meet a woman that Alphonso had raped. And she had his baby. There was something sad underneath Red Velvet’s words, the same type of sadness that plagued me. I didn’t know how to rid myself of the stigma. Red Velvet kept staring out the window.
“I’m going to kill him,” I said.
“What good would that do?” Red Velvet asked, still staring out the window.
Honey answered, “He won’t stick his dead dick in another woman without her permission, that’s for sure. I’ll help you kill his ass.”
“I got a mama and a baby to take care of,” said Red Velvet. “Otherwise, I would’ve shot that sorry motherfucker the day I found out I was pregnant. That’s how I felt. Still do. I just can’t do it.”
Honey scooted closer to me. “It’s okay. Both of you have to move past that. Tiffany, you
r mother told us she’s looked for you every day. She never stopped. You have to call her. You can have the same loving relationship with your mother that Velvet has with her mother. But I have to warn you. When we left your mother’s house yesterday, we heard screams. We don’t know if she was kicking Alphonso’s ass or if he was beating hers, but I did call in a two seventeen.”
Damn. Honey had love like that? For me? I had to leave tonight for Los Angeles. What I needed was…
The bathroom door opened. Grant entered the living area, dressed in a silk pajama bottom. When he saw me sitting on the sofa, next to Honey, and staring at his dick, he froze. He probably was having a Fatal Attraction flashback and thinking I was scheming against him. I knew how much he loved Honey. And I wasn’t trying to put him in a compromising position, but I needed him to hold me. Standing up, I walked toward Grant. He shook his head, then said in a normal tone, “Don’t do it, Velvet.”
Turning toward the window, I saw that Red Velvet was sitting on the ledge, with her feet dangling out the open window. I didn’t know what made me want to push her off the ledge instead of pull her in. Yes, I did. I wanted Grant to hold me, not her, in his arms.
Honey was faster than Grant. She hugged Red Velvet’s waist and pulled her inside and to the floor. I hugged Grant, then said, “You saved her life. Mine too. Thank you.”
“What? Y’all thought I was going to jump? Please! Not over some shiftless nigga. Y’all were acting all depressed and stuff. I was watching the fireworks,” Red Velvet said, smiling. “I’m tired of crying over what happened to me. I was imagining the fireworks were for me. I imagined I’d gotten that call I’ve been waiting for. ‘Red Velvet, we’re calling to offer you the role of Coco Brown in Something on the Side.’ My first leading role in a movie, and the stars bursting in the air were all for me. I was pretending I was on the red carpet, smiling for the cameras like Jennifer Hudson, taking pictures, giving interviews, sitting on stage with Oprah. Y’all sure know how to mess up a girl’s fantasy. Let me go. I’m going to my room.” Red Velvet stood up, then walked to the door. She squeezed Grant’s butt, then said, “Good night.”
Whos Loving You Page 20
