Everyone in the barbershop was watching the newscast. Jay was sitting in his barber chair texting Mikki. Stewart, Mance, Shasta, Dayshea, were all doing some type of work, and occasionally glancing at the TV. Jay gave the news his full attention when the attractive black female anchor mentioned Poo-Man. He looked up to see a mug shot of Mikki’s cousin—wanted for murder. Without bringing any attention to himself, Jay quickly sent Mikki a text.
Turn 2 ch 11 news now!
He listened to the anchor woman give her brief report on how Maria was found beaten and shot at her home last Saturday. Mikki ran from the kitchen and turned to the news. Seeing a mug shot of Poo-Man made her gasp. She slowly sat down as the anchor woman spoke more on the shooting. She became upset because Poo-Man was using her to hide from the police. After the report went off, she closed her eyes rubbing her forehead. Jumping up she reached for her cell phone.
“This muthafucha, know he wrong for this!” she said punching in her phone number to her crib.
Poo-Man was on the toilet taking a dump when the phone started ringing. He held a cigarette between his lips as he waited for the answering machine to pick up.
Ellen was on the phone with one of her male friends when she saw, Mikki’s cousin on the news. She sat up, reaching for the remote to turn the volume up.
“Hold on baby,” she said as her heart started to beat faster. She had no doubt that Regail Fields, A.K.A Poo-Man was resting over at Mikki’s. When she saw the $5,000 reward, she thought about her bills and how she straight up needed it.
“Ellen, are you still on the phone? Do you want me to-?”
“Baby, let me call you back,” she said cutting him off. Next, she hung up and then called the crime stopper number. Poo-Man was curious about the missed calls so he went ahead and pressed the play messages button to see who had called. He went to the window as the phone started rewinding the three missed calls. He looked out the window to see if big titty Ellen’s Mitsubishi Galant was parked in its usual spot. His attention was drawn from the window when he heard the urgency in Mikki’s voice begging him to pick up. That was the first message. The second was a hang up. The third was a dire plea from Mikki telling him to call her back followed by a number. He called her back wondering what the fuck was going on.
“Poo-Man!” Mikki shouted.
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“Why you ain’t answer the damn phone!”
“Chill girl, I was taking a shit.”
“Boy! I’ma fuck your ass up! You were just on the damn news! Why you ain’t tell me what was going on with you? You need to get out of my apartment because the police got a reward for you, boy. Damn, why you beat that girl up and—just get out because—”
“Mikki!” he interrupted her. “I’m leaving now. I’ll holla.”
“Poo—wait!”
Click.
Poo-Man ran to the window with his eyes bugging. He felt his stomach flop at the sight of a dark-colored Crown Victoria slowly heading toward the back of the complex.
“Fuck this!” Poo-Man backed away from the window and was out the back door.
Ellen forced her two oldest kids into a back room with their baby sister, just in case a shootout erupted. She was peeking through the white Venetian blinds at the lone Crown Victoria. She found it odd that the Raleigh police had only sent one damn car. The sooner Poo-Man was caught, the sooner she could get paid. Raleigh police were playing it smart. Their tactical approach was hidden from her view. Due to the violent nature of Poo-Man’s charge, the Raleigh police had called out their SWAT unit. They were positioned around the entire apartment complex and were told to wait. Their tight cordon was set in place and it presented no means of escape for Poo-Man. This would have sat true had Poo-Man been inside the apartment. Every detail about Poo-Man was passed along from the Durham police to the Raleigh police, but one major tidbit was left out, Poo-Man’s means of transportation. By the time this mishap was noticed, two SWAT unit members would recall seeing the blue YZF-R6 leaving the scene. The apartment was empty when the police converged. If Poo-Man had waited two minutes more, he would have been caught.
Detective Carter arrived at Mikki’s apartment at 7:48 p.m. She stood to the side while three white Raleigh investigators spoke to Mikki. They were pressing her hard.
“I told y’all he was here, so why the fuck y’all messing up my apartment!” Mikki shouted as she stood her ground in her kitchen. She was thirty-four and stopped taking shit a long time ago.
“Ma’am, your language,” one of the white investigators warned.
“Fool, I’m a grown ass woman in my own damn crib so I talk how I damn well please! You got your people mixed up!” She folded her arms in defiance.
Detective Carter made herself a part of the group before the tension got out of hand. She kindly gained the four investigators attention then led them into the living room. Mikki stood her ground, ready to put any badge-carrying bastard in their place. She watched the sistah putting her foot down. Whatever she was harshly whispering at the four clowns did not sit well with them. Defeated, the four Raleigh investigators walked out the door. Mikki sat down to calm her nerves.
“Hi, I’m Detective Carter.” She held up her badge. “May I sit down?”
Mikki nodded yes. “Thanks for kicking them fools outta my apartment. My name is Mikki Fields, but I assume you already know.”
“Yes.” Detective Carter sat down. “Mikki, I know this situation is very perplexing and stressful. I’m assuming that your cousin paid you an unannounced visit without telling you of his trouble that he left behind in Durham.”
“That’s what I told them fools. I ain’t do shit wrong. I didn’t know he was wanted by the police. Now I might get kicked out of my damn apartment over this shit. Look what they did to my damn front door!” Mikki pointed toward her front door that was destroyed.
“I spoke to the investigators and your door will be replaced tonight.”
“Really?” Mikki replied. No matter what, she still wasn’t gonna help. Fuck the police!
“Yes, look Mikki, I’m not going to ask you where your cousin is because let’s face it—he’s family. But I’ll point this out. The authorities are now aware that you know about your cousin’s crime and if you help him you can be charged with—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know so let’s save it. Look, I appreciate the door deal and getting them out of my grill, but really, what do we have to talk about?” Mikki viewed all the police the same. She didn’t fuck with them no matter what their color was. Detective Carter agreed with her and said her good-bye.
Detective Carter did not earn her rank for being nonobservant. She earned it by staying on point with her surroundings. The day Mance had taken her to his barbershop to announce their surprise engagement she had noticed the flashy rides that his barbers drove. Stewart drove the black and silver Avalanche, Shasta had the sporty red C70 and Dayshea, the receptionist, rolled in the emerald green Escalade EXT. The last of Mance’s friends was Jay and his mahogany Jeep Commander. She had spotted the SUV when she first pulled up, parked a hundred yards away. As she was leaving, she looked back to see Mikki waving Jay inside. So, Jay was dating Mikki, nothing wrong with that.
She left with her mind loaded. She had to drive to Durham to turn in the county car then turn around and drive her BMW back to Goldsboro. She had allowed Amanda to end her day early because she said she wasn’t feeling well. Volanda hoped her friend was doing okay. She knew her stress was over Maria as well as her issue with her infertility. In all, she prayed that Amanda would find a way to cope with her issues in life and that she would not allow them to break her down.
CHAPTER 13:
Bravo
Smithfield, North Carolina
9:05 P.M.
Ghetti walked out of the theater with Amanda at his side. The only movie they could find that was violence free was the animation Happy Feet. Above them, the bright moon was accompanied by a countless array of stars. “Is this the end of our date?�
� he asked when they reached her Chrysler Aspen. He could not ignore his increasing attraction to her. He tried to make the situation humorous by telling himself that he needed some anti-jungle fever pills. In truth, she looked like she had been dipped in a bowl of sexiness. Her hair was pulled back from her face and formed a neat up-do held by a black glossy hair clip. Her eyes had a light touch of eye shadow that held his attention in allurement. Just as she had promised, she was wearing something sexy for him. It started with 4-inch stiletto boots that upped her height to 5’7”. Her low-waist pants were squeezing her ass and hips, but allowed her butt to jiggle enticingly. The satin long sleeve blouse with its plunging deep v-neck line showed the sides of her creamy breast. Yeah, she was over dressed, but her appearance had made Ghetti happy, as well as turned him on. So this made her happy.
Ghetti was looking sharp as well. He had on a fresh pair of black Air Jordans and a baggy pair of black LRG jeans with a matching hoodie. His style was turning her on. It was something different for her to look at. Added to that, he smelled good with his Polo scent.
She looked up to him, ignoring the nippy air slicing through her blouse. “My husband is gone out of town,” she said, feeling her nipples harden. “If you feel comfortable with it, I would like for you to follow me home.”
Ghetti’s hand ran over his wave a few times. “That right there is a risky move. Are you . . . ummm . . . I don’t know ’bout all that.”
She looked down at her boots. “I’m sorry I suggested it,” she said sheepishly.
He tenderly lifted her chin. “Whut’s goin’ on between us?” He caressed the side of her face with the back of his hand.
“Just come home with me, Vic.” She reached up to hold his hand. “You know what I need.”
He pushed his thoughts back to their night of intense sex. So this is why R. Kelly made that classic, “My mind keeps telling me noooo, but my body is telling me yeah.” And Ghetti didn’t see nothing wrong—with a little bump and grind—he was ready for the remix. He listened to his body and told his mind to mind its business.
Ghetti was having second thoughts when he entered Amanda’s six-figure estate. She led him by his hand past the grand living room, through a heavy set of French doors then up a spiral staircase. This big ass house, just for two people, he thought. She led him up to her private study room. She had expected him to take her up on the offer to follow her home. She had removed all items that could identify her as a detective. Once inside the study room she aggressively pushed him up against the wall and planted his hands on her ass. He was unable to get a word out before she pulled his mouth to hers. He squeezed her butt, hard, pulling her against his dick. She smelled like a basket of erotic fresh fruit. He broke away from her lips, needing to taste her flesh. His lips traveled down her neck. She clung to him, grinding hard into him. She fumbled with his belt as her needs reached an untamed level.
“Oh! Oooh! Vic!” She closed her eyes while enjoying his pleasing mouth attached to her nipple. The way his tongue sparred with her nipple made her wet. She thought of how his mouth would feel on her clit. “Wait! Oooh—Vic—wait,” she purred, rubbing his face.
He released her, licking her wet erect nipple before calming down.
“Relax baby,” she said easily. “We have all night to have our fun and that’s how long I want it.” She unbuttoned his shirt. “I want to start out down in the Jacuzzi, sip some champagne, give you a deep massage, and then you can massage my tense pussy.” She had his hoodie unzipped open, rubbing his hard chest. She licked his lips in a teasing manner then slid her hands under his white tank top. Her hands slid all over his muscular stomach and chest. “I’ll be right back.” She blew him a kiss then pranced out of the study room.
Ghetti tried to regain his composure after she left. He was tripping on himself for having his nose wide the fuck open over a white woman—a married one at that! The study room was twice the size of his bedroom. Sitting in front of an oval picture window was a desk with a computer and a fax machine. A few pictures were lined up on the desk. His attention was drawn to a picture of her wedding day. He picked up the picture frame. Looking at her husband, he could tell that he was older than her. He was clean-shaven, not a hint of facial hair on his face. He stood head and shoulders over Amanda, with a medium size frame. To Ghetti, he favored Matthew McConaughey. He didn’t know how long Amanda had been married, but one thing was a fact, Amanda was beautiful then just as she was now. He sat the picture back down. There was nothing interesting in the study room. To tell the truth, he was still uneasy about being in the house. Where was Amanda any damn way? Minutes later, she snuck up on him.
“Let’s go, baby.”
He turned around. “Damn!” he said, looking at her standing in the doorway. She stood clad in a green and black string bikini with a bottle of Dom Perignon in her hands.
“Follow me.” She turned, exposing her round, soft butt. She led him back down the spiral staircase to a room that held the royal purple Jacuzzi that was already bubbling. She adjusted the lights, dimming them to a soft red tone. She then stepped to the Bose stereo in the corner while Ghetti removed his clothes. He was hoping she wasn’t about to throw on some corny music, but that thought was erased when she set Kem’s CD on random. She even did the honor of popping the cork on the bottle of drink.
“Whut you know ’bout Kem?” he said, removing his socks.
“I listen to good music that’s why.” She closed the space between them. “You can take these off as well.” She pulled at his boxers.
A minute later, he was butt ass naked laid back between her thighs getting a soothing massage. The massaging underwater nozzles were on point, but they could not match the touch of Amanda. She too was nude, sitting on the cushioned edge with his head deep between her thighs, rubbing and kneading his shoulders and chest. Her treatment was fit for a king and he received it proudly. He had his eyes closed, listening to Kem’s song, “I Can’t Stop Loving You.” She pampered him through three songs before she spoke. The champagne was half-empty.
“Do you have a girlfriend, Vic?” She slid her hands over his chest.
“Nah,” he replied.
“Why not?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Guess the right one hasn’t made herself known yet.”
“Life is so unfair.” She moved her hands to his neck and shoulders.
“Why you say that?”
“Because of my life and the afflictions I’m going through.” She leaned down to lightly kiss the side of his face. “I have too much tension inside me. Do you ever feel this way?”
He nodded yes. Too bad, he could not share any of it with her.
“Can I come clean about something?” She slid a tress of hair from her face.
“I’m listenin’.”
She released a deep sigh. “Remember when I told you that I was on birth control?”
“Yeah.”
“I . . . lied. The truth is that I can’t have kids. I—I just don’t know how to deal with it at times.”
Ghetti slowly sat up, and then turned to face her. He locked his eyes with hers for what seemed like a lifetime. “Got any more secrets?”
“No.” She traced his lips with her finger. “No more secrets.” She smiled, looking down at his erection.
“You see somethin’ you want?” He slid his hands down her inner thighs.
“I was about to ask you the same question,” she said, opening her thighs wider.
“Damn, you got a pretty pussy.” He brushed his fingertips against her pubic hairs.
Amanda tilted her head to the side. “Do I turn you on—for a white girl?”
“That’s a crazy question.” He nodded down at his dick.” Now, do I turn you on for a black man?”
She giggled. “Vic, I can’t even think about you without soaking my panties.”
“No offense, but I assume your man ain’t beatin’ the pussy right.”
“Vic, you are something else.” She smiled. “Now let’s
do what we came to do. And yes, I want you to beat this real good.” She licked her finger then slid it toward her clit.
Ghetti slid up, taking a nipple into his mouth.
“Mmmmm,” she moaned softly. “I love it so much when you do this.”
He took his time sucking her nipples because he knew she enjoyed it. He braced one hand on the cushioned edge while softly rubbing her moist pussy. She cupped her breast to his mouth, inching her ass closer to his hand. This foreplay lasted a few minutes.
“Get up and put your shoes back on.” He nodded over at her black strappy heels she had worn down with the bikini.
“Now?” she asked.
“Yeah, I wanna beat the pussy wit’ you in some heels.” He grabbed his dick.
“Kinky.” She giggled. “I think I can honor your request.” She pulled her legs out of the warm bubbling water. Ghetti got out also, dripping wet and ready to fuck. Her body transformed when she strapped on the four-inch heels.
“C’mere,” he said.
She walked to him, eyes locked on his protruding thick dick. Against the wall was a brown sofa. Ghetti dried her wet body off with a towel then dried himself off. He wanted to turn her out by giving her the dick proper like. He again got her juices boiling by sucking on her nipples while dipping a finger in and out of her pussy. When she began to pull at his penis, he knew she was ready to be fucked. He stood as she laid back on the sofa with her creamy legs wide open. She slowly licked two of her fingers then reached between her legs to open her wet pussy. Her eyes never left his stiff dick as he joined her on the sofa. The stoutness of his dick had her pussy seeping. As he positioned himself on top she reached up to rub his face. She bit her bottom lip as he lifted both her legs in the air. He licked the back of her fleshy calves then placed her ankles on his shoulders.
The Game of Deception Page 19
