Caught Up

by Shannon Holmes

  Dixyn glanced at Kendra, who seemed unnerved by the conversation, not meeting her gaze. This was an A-and-B conversation and Kendra seemed more than content to stay out of it.

  “Listen, bitch,” B-Dub snarled in a low tone, “you gonna do what the fuck I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it. Comprende? Unless you want me to go out to that fuckin’ jail and give my dear ol’ brother a blow-by-blow account of what you’ve been doin’ out here in these streets since he’s been gone. And take it from me, he ain’t gonna be feelin’ you one bit when I put my spin on this shit. He’ll probably even disown the baby too. I’ll have his ass askin’ you for a paternity test.”

  Dixyn managed to muster some defiance: “Go to hell, muthafucka! I ain’t tryin’ to hear shit from you. B-Dub, you’re the last person that needs to be tellin’ me anything!”

  “Look, Dixyn, shit is real, if you haven’t noticed. If you’re not wit’ us, you’re against us. And you saw tonight what happens to those who go against us.”

  “Are you threatening me?” she asked, raising her voice.

  “Nah, Dixyn, I’m not threatenin’ you, fam. I ain’t gonna lay a fuckin’ finger on you. There’s a lotta different ways of hurtin’ a person without gettin’ physical. Know what I’m sayin’?”

  Dixyn didn’t know exactly what B-Dub meant by this, but she didn’t like how it sounded. She felt as if she were being forced into some kind of indentured servitude. Should she admit to Bryce exactly what was going on, or turn to the police for help? Neither option sounded too appealing. For better or worse, Dixyn had a serious decision to make.

  She suddenly felt alone in a world filled with enemies. She glared across the table at her tormenters, studying their faces, trying to glimpse some sense of humanity hidden deep within their souls, but she saw nothing. As for Kendra, or what remained of her, she was an empty shell of the former friend she once knew.

  Feeling suffocated by the immense pressure she was under, Dixyn silently rose from the table, exited the restaurant, and walked out into the cool night air to clear her head. Through the glass, she could see Kendra and B-Dub engrossed in conversation. For the first time, she was truly ashamed of the life she was living. Her conscience began to eat at her. She thought about all the illicit activities she had involved herself in and the damage it had done to her, not physical but spiritual. This wasn’t how she was raised; Dixyn wasn’t about that life. She felt trapped. She began desperately searching the crevices of her brain for a way out of this mess.

  Chapter Nine

  The body lay in a pool of blood. Dixyn jumped off the bed and immersed herself in warm bodily fluid in a valiant attempt to save the man’s life. The extremity of the situation suggested that she panic or flee like everyone else had, yet she didn’t. Blood stained her body and her hands. Dixyn saw her bloody palm print on the man’s shirt as she felt his heart for any signs of life. Nothing. One look at his discolored face and hollow eyes and Dixyn knew he was already dead.

  Suddenly she came to her senses and rose unsteadily to her feet, fighting hard to keep her footing in the vast amount of blood. Nearly falling several times, Dixyn finally made her way to the door. As she left the motel room, she came face to face with her worst fear: the cops. To her immediate left and right, she could see they had taken up tactical positions, crouching low with their weapons trained on her.

  “Police! Freeze!” one cop barked. “Put your hands in the air where we can see them!”

  It was a surreal moment. Dixyn was dazed by the swirl of red and blue lights and everything else happening around her. She couldn’t process their order to surrender. As it began to register, she wandered aimlessly toward the cops, her entire body drenched in blood.

  “It wasn’t me! I didn’t do it!” she yelled.

  “Miss, I’m warning you, don’t take another step forward. Put your hands where I can see them.”

  “I didn’t do nuttin’!” she cried, steadily advancing.

  As the drama escalated, several more cop cars arrived on the scene, bringing with them reinforcements. Dixyn could feel her heartbeat quickening and let out a bloodcurdling scream. Yet still she kept advancing.

  Fearing the woman was mentally deranged, the cops braced themselves for the worst. Their fingers tightened around their triggers as adrenaline pulsated through their bodies.

  Even with several guns pointed at her, Dixyn didn’t feel threatened. Then the loud crackle of gunfire stopped her dead in her tracks. One bullet after another pierced her body, and her blood flowed profusely as she dropped to the ground. Cops closed in on her body from all sides. As they hovered over her with their weapons trained, Dixyn could feel her soul slowly leaving her body.

  Dixyn jerked awake, wide-eyed, sweating profusely, holding her heart. She shook her head and slowly fell back onto the softness of her bed. She was physically refreshed yet mentally wasted. Her thoughts were still wrapped up in the disturbing images of the murder at the bachelor party. Try as she might to detach herself from the event, she just couldn’t.

  What she did next was no different from any ordinary day. Dixyn took a shower, put on her clothes, went downstairs, and made herself some breakfast. After picking through her food, she pushed her plate away and sat back in the chair. Her mind wandered for a few moments before she decided to go into the living room to watch some television. She channel-surfed until something caught her eye.

  “One man is dead as the Crystal City police begin to search for clues. Right behind me is the Red Roof Inn, where police say sometime last night twenty-six-year-old Eric Johnson of Washington, DC was found slain. The circumstances that led to his death were not immediately evident. Some occupants of the motel say they heard loud music coming from the room in question. There seemed to be some sort of party or celebration taking place in room 129 last night. However, there was no report of gunshots or even a scuffle. Police are combing the room for clues and interviewing guests who may have heard or seen something that could possibly guide them in this murder investigation. For now, there are no suspects, but police say they do have a license plate number from a car of a person of interest. But they’re not making it public right now. Reporting live from Crystal City, this is Warren Scott, Fox 5 Morning News.”

  Dixyn panicked and began feeling sick to her stomach. The image of the dead man once again flashed before her eyes. She picked up her phone and dialed Kendra’s number. The phone rang for what seemed like an eternity with no response.

  Unable to sit still in her home for another second, Dixyn got up off the couch and grabbed her purse and cars keys. She headed for the local 7-Eleven to buy a newspaper. She scanned the front page until she found what she was looking for, then drove home, anxious to check out the full article. Back at her place, she read the story several times, letting the reporter’s words fill her brain.

  Police say it was a bachelor party gone wrong. By the end of the night, one man lay shot, bleeding to death on the hotel floor. Just what provoked such a random act of violence, law enforcement officials can only speculate. Anyone with any information that may lead to the arrest of these suspects has been asked to call . . .

  For the next few hours, Dixyn sat alone in her living room, lost in thought. She didn’t know what to make of what had happened last night or where all the newfound trouble could possibly lead. Instinctively, Dixyn bowed her head and prayed for the soul that had been lost. She prayed that God would forgive her for the sins she had committed that led to this murder.

  Dixyn dozed off with the newspaper neatly folded in her lap. When the ringing of her cell phone pulled her out of sleep, she saw that night had fallen. She had lost all track of time. Dixyn clumsily reached for her phone on a nearby night table and checked the screen. It was Kendra. Now Dixyn was wide awake.

  “Kendra?”

  “It’s on!” the woman squealed.

  “What? What are you talkin’ about?”

  “The club! It’s already back open. Under new management, from what I heard
. Notti’s wife supposedly took over.”

  Dixyn shook her head in disbelief. Kendra truly had a one-track mind. “Look, we need to talk,” Dixyn said. “I don’t know if you are aware, but a lot of things have happened since last night, and it ain’t all good.”

  Kendra went silent for a moment on the other end of the phone. “Hold ya horses,” she finally replied. “Let’s not talk about that over the phone. You never know who’s listening. Come down to the club tonight and we’ll talk. Face to face.”

  The telephone line went dead. Dixyn needed to talk to her, so she resigned herself to meeting up later that night in the noisy confines of the strip club.

  * * *

  When Dixyn got to the club that night, she found Chocolate and Fonda working the crowd. They saw her but barely acknowledged her. Dixyn could care less. She didn’t like either one of them anyway. But the problem was, they were all in this together. She grinned at them and kept moving.

  Dixyn spotted Kendra creeping down the stairs that led to Notti’s office, although it appeared that the woman was trying her best to avoid her. Dixyn walked over and confronted her. “Kendra, let’s find somewhere private to talk.”

  “Holla at me later. I got some business I gotta take care of,” Kendra replied.

  “I need to speak to you now,” Dixyn insisted. “It’s important.” She grabbed Kendra’s arm and pulled her back to the locker room. Once there, Dixyn reached inside her purse and handed Kendra a folded copy of the newspaper. “That shit made the news and the paper,” she whispered.

  Kendra simply shrugged her shoulders and passed the newspaper back to Dixyn.

  “Well, what we gonna do?”

  “Nuttin’!” Kendra snapped. “The police ain’t got nuttin’. If they did, they woulda came and got us already. I’m not hidin’ and neither are you, so that right there should tell you somethin’. All they have is a dead body, and last I checked, dead men don’t talk.”

  Dixyn stared at Kendra blankly as she tried to make sense of what she had just heard. “It’s only a matter of time. Investigations take time. Ain’t you seen CSI before?” she said. “It might not happen today or tomorrow, but you will get arrested.”

  “Good,” Kendra coolly replied. “Then let them muthafuckas do they job. When they do, they gon’ know that I ain’t shoot nobody. And if they don’t, I’ll tell ’em.”

  How Dixyn wished that things were that simple. Part of her wanted to just run away and hide till things blew over. But she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her daughter behind. She knew she had to stay, come what may.

  “I don’t know,” Dixyn muttered. “I don’t know if this is the right way to handle this situation.”

  “Since you obviously got this all figured out,” Kendra responded with sarcasm, “what do you suppose we do?”

  “I . . . I . . . I don’t know,” Dixyn stuttered. “I was hopin’ we could put our heads together and come up with somethin’.”

  Kendra merely sighed before marching off.

  At that moment, Dixyn made up her mind that this was the last time she would ever attempt to talk sense into Kendra. From here on out, it was every woman for herself.

  * * *

  Dixyn took to the stage and stared out into the sea of hungry men anxiously waiting for her to gyrate her body to the rhythm of the beat and expose herself for all to see. As she slid up and down the pole, she stopped watching the crowd and focused solely on her own thoughts. This is what my life has come to: sleep, eat, and strip. Unlike a lot of the other girls, she neither loved nor lived for the job. Right now it simply paid the bills. This wasn’t who she was; it was just something she happened to be doing. This is my last night, Dixyn promised herself. The sooner this was done, the better off she would be.

  But as the night wore on, Dixyn found it hard to concentrate on dancing. She was burdened by what she had done and what she felt compelled to do now. No amount of money she made tonight could take her mind off of the murder investigation.

  * * *

  While Dixyn went through the motions onstage, Kendra was upstairs in the office with B-Dub.

  “B, we gotta problem,” Kendra announced. The urgency and nervousness she hadn’t shown to her friend was on full display now. “That shit hit the papers. Dixyn told me she saw it on the news . . .”

  B-Dub remained silent as Kendra filled him in on the details. He was pondering ways to get himself out of this jam. And he came to one conclusion: kill the girls. They were the weak links. If the police got hold of them, he wasn’t sure which one would snitch first. Since no one else knew his partners in crime, the brunt of the blame would fall squarely on him.

  “Kendra, calm down. Everything is going to be all right,” B-Dub soothed. “Now go back downstairs, fam, and keep an eye on our friend Dixyn. I got some business to handle up here. I’ll holla back at you by the end of the night.”

  “Okay,” Kendra responded obediently, then turned to exit the office.

  “Here,” B-Dub called out to her. “Take a few of these to calm ya’self down.”

  Kendra extended her hand and B-Dub dumped about a half dozen pills in her palm. Kendra balled up her hand into a tight fist and rushed out of the office.

  As B-Dub looked on, he couldn’t help but think, Junkie bitch! He knew exactly how to get rid of her when the time came. Dealing with the other girls required some thought.

  * * *

  By the time Dixyn had gotten dressed to head home, Kendra, Fonda, and Chocolate were nowhere to be found. This didn’t bother Dixyn one bit; she hoped to never see them again. She was happy to leave those bitches right where she found them. It was over between her and stripping. It was a relationship that had been doomed from the start. Without regret, Dixyn left every stripper outfit and every other item associated with stripping that she had bought inside her locker. Good riddance, she thought as she departed the locker room for the final time.

  * * *

  Fonda and Chocolate pulled up to the local Sheetz convenience store to get a few refreshments and blunt wraps for their weed. Fonda stayed in the car texting, trying to salvage a date she had lined up for later that evening. Meanwhile, Chocolate headed inside the store. Each woman was too engrossed in her own task to notice the tinted late-model black Honda Accord that pulled slowly into the packed lot.

  Unable to spot her roommate through the store glass, Fonda called her phone. “Bitch, where are you? What’s taking you so long?”

  “Bitch, I’m in da bathroom,” Chocolate fired back. “I had to pee. Is that all right wit’ you?”

  “Hurry da fuck up!” Fonda said, sucking her teeth.

  Within a few minutes, Chocolate returned to the car with a large grocery bag.

  “Now I see what really took you so long. You practically bought the whole gotdamn store.”

  “Your period must be about to come down, ’cause all you been doin’ is complaining ever since we left the club,” Chocolate replied. “Lemme roll up dis blunt. Maybe that’ll keep ya ass from trippin’.”

  Chocolate sat in the passenger’s seat and prepared the blunt while Fonda kept a sharp eye out for the police. Chocolate soon sparked up the blunt and they pulled out of the parking lot.

  Since they were smoking, they didn’t want to run the risk of getting pulled over. Fonda made a detour off the main thoroughfare and took the back roads home.

  They passed the blunt between them. Billows of smoke poured out of the car as each woman took hearty pulls. The weed was beginning to make Fonda horny. Although she didn’t have any dick lined up for the night, Chocolate would more than suffice. They had hooked up on more than a few occasions, inside and outside the club, and it had always been memorable. True to form, Fonda reached over and caressed Chocolate’s breasts, letting her know what time it was.

  “Okay,” Chocolate mumbled between tokes. “Now you talkin’.” To Chocolate, it was all in good fun, and she had given as well as she had gotten.

  Aroused, Fonda began to accelera
te to get home more quickly. Suddenly a pair of headlights appeared in the rearview mirror. They were so high that they hadn’t even noticed the car following them until it was too late. Fonda slowed her vehicle down. As soon as the other car pulled within a few feet of them, Fonda quickly determined that this was not a police car after all. The vehicle flashed its high beams and then sped up as if to pass them. As both cars pulled even with each other, the car in question suddenly veered right and slammed into them.

  “What the fuck?” Fonda rasped.

  When it happened again, Fonda immediately knew this was a life-or-death situation and floored it. The two cars raced up the narrow road.

  Fonda and Chocolate were nervous wrecks inside their vehicle as they struggled to make sense of what was happening. Fonda tried not to let her friend’s screams distract her. Her mind was racing, yet she managed to focus completely on the road, thinking about everything and nothing at all.

  “Drive, Fonda, drive!” Chocolate shrieked.

  Fonda’s eyes began to tear up. She had to blink numerous times to clear her vision. The revving of car engines was all that could be heard on the otherwise empty back road. The chase car tapped Fonda’s from the back, attempting to fishtail it. Fonda reacted badly, mashing her foot on the gas.

  The darkness of night was doing a perfect job of camouflaging the sharp turn in the road up ahead.

  Fonda was still driving at high speed when she hit the curve. She cut the steering wheel hard—too hard. She lost control of the car and it violently tumbled, rolling numerous times before it came to rest upside down in a ditch. The sick, twisted wreckage suddenly burst into a ball of flames, thus sealing the occupants’ doom.

  Slowly the chase car rolled past the scene of the accident. If the crash didn’t kill the girls, surely the fire would. They calmly pulled away, secure in the knowledge that they had done their job.