The Conglomerate: A Luxorious Tale

by Santiago, Danielle

  Opening the door to re-enter the club he bumped into Evan and Reza. Greatly intoxicated, Evan wore a wide grin and sang, “Hey Rhaaaaa, we ready to blow this joint.”

  “Okay boss lady,” he replied holding the door for them.

  Inside the car Evan and Reza popped more molly and got off into each other real heavy. Evan knelt before him and pleasured him orally for ten minutes. When she finished he propped her up in the seat, yanked her shorts off forcefully, pushed her legs back parting them wide, and dove in tongue first. Using his mouth he made love to her tender mouth for the duration of the ride.

  Arriving back at Evan’s, Rhamel entered the apartment through the garage entrance. Evan and Reza had barely made it through door when they started ripping each other’s clothes off. They were unable to contain themselves and started fucking on the floor of the foyer. Once they finished, they moved into the parlor and got it in on her vintage white couch. Five positions and thirty minutes later, in much need of being hydrated, they went into the kitchen, refueled on liquids then had another round of sex on the center island.

  With plenty of juice and water in hand they finally made their way to Evan’s bedroom. They continued to go at it like wild beasts on the floor, in the bed, in the shower and then back in the bed. By the time they finished the sun was up and the birds were chirping. Totally exhausted they fell into a deep slumber until late afternoon.

  Chapter 7

  On her sixth and last full day in Dubai, Joey returned to the Atlantis resort from a massive shopping spree from BurJuman and Wafi malls. She had so many bags from Chanel, Escada, Saks, Louis Vuitton, and Bugatti Bmore, that the bell hops had to load them onto two carts and follow her to the suite.

  “My Lord!” Dorenda gasped when Joey entered the suit with the bellhops in tow. “What did you do buy? The entire mall out?”

  “I know that it’s a lot, but I need all of these things for Miami. I won’t have time to do anything in Charlotte. When we land there tomorrow Zay and I are only staying a few hours and then we’ll be back in the air.”

  She rifled through her purse in search of dirhams to tip the bellhops. In a matter of seconds they’d unloaded both carts and organized the shopping bags from smallest to largest in four neat rows. “Thank you,” Joey said handing them seventy-three dirhams a piece. Joey closed the door behind them and flopped down on the chair opposite Dorenda.

  “Mommy, I am worn out.”

  “I bet you are, toting all them bags around and it’s hotter than Hades out there.”

  “You know if you would’ve come with me; there would be three times the bags than that.”

  “After shopping at that ridiculously huge mall and the street markets. I

  didn’t think that there was any more shopping to be done.”

  “Listen, BurJuman and Wafi are the truth! If I would’ve gone to those malls first I wouldn’t have bought anything at that Dubai mall for myself.”

  “They were that nice?”

  “Yes ma’am they were.”

  “Well,” Dorenda sighed. “If I ever get to come back I will check them out.”

  “What do you mean if?” Joey smiled with a raised brow. “We’re coming for an adult only trip, so we can take part in all that this city has to offer for people older than four-ten fourteen.”

  Joey and Dorenda were close like mother and biological daughter. It hadn’t always been that way. In the beginning, Dorenda was highly skeptical of Joey whom she’d pegged as just another pretty face gold digger like all the others that Zay kept around. Even seven months into their relationship, when Zay made it known that Joey wasn’t just another fling, Dorenda still wasn’t feeling her. About six months down the road Joey’s grandmother died. It was then that Dorenda learned that Joey was raised by her, due to the absence of Joey’s mentally unstable mother. That endeared Dorenda to her, but it was Joey’s self-sufficiency and independence that earned her respect. From there they formed the type of bond that would survive even if Joey and Zay’s relationship didn’t.

  Joey was elated to have Dorenda in Dubai along with Zay and the kids.

  In addition Nija, Zay’s twenty-two year old niece and the daughter of his oldest brother, Jason’s daughters, and Cee’s children were there. Just being with her loved ones gratified Joey. All of the kids were having a ball, taking advantage of every fun activity that the resort had to offer. The resort had an amazing waterpark that included hands on experience with dolphins and a mega arcade. They also had plenty of fun outside the resort too. For Joey, seeing the smiles on Cee’s kids, PJ and Shelby’s, faces after what they had been through made the trip worthwhile.

  Although most of the activities revolved around the kids, Joey and Zay stole some time for themselves. They went on an early morning desert safari, hung out at an authentic hookah lounge, and cruised the Dubai Lake Canal. On this day Joey made sure that she got some time alone to do the things that she wanted. Noticing how quiet the suite was Joey asked, “Where is everybody?”

  “Zay and the boys are at the arcade and Nija took the girls to the beach.”

  “Good,” Joey leapt up. “I’m going to shower real quick. You and I have a spa appointment. We’re going to get out of here before the kids come up in here trying to slow us down.”

  ***

  “This is the best mani-pedi I’ve ever had in my life,” Joey exclaimed lying nude on a massage table. She was covered by a white sheet with a manicurist on her hands and a pedicurist on her feet.

  “I feel the same way,” Dorenda replied from the table next to her getting the five star treatment as well. “I felt like I was walking on air when I left out of here the other day.

  “I’m going to have Cee get this Bastien Gonzalez line for the Luxe spa.”

  “How is Cee doing?” Dorenda inquired

  “I believe she’s doing well considering you know. She may never get over losing Petey, but she’ll get through it.”

  “That the truth, I definitely got past the death of my husband. I had to; I had four boys to raise. I sure as hell never got over it.”

  The main reason of the trip to Dubai was to get Joey away from all the uproar surrounding the incident with Dawhar. Thus far the unfortunate event had barely been mentioned. In the days following the attempted rape there had been some major revelations about Dawhar. He had a penchant for rough violence and violent sex. After the video of him attacking Joey went viral, five women came forward with accusations of rape, including the seventeen year old that he’d secretly fathered two sons with. Most of the women were young, fairly poor, and easily intimidated by his star power. Besides buying their silence with cash, Dawhar also made them believe that no one would believe them over him.

  Dorenda and Joey had yet to discuss the assault. By all appearances, Joey seemed to be doing well, but Dorenda wanted to gage how well she was doing emotionally.

  “Joey, I know you probably don’t want to talk about the assault... But I want to know how you are doing and I want the truth.

  Joey contemplated for a moment then spoke, “Right after it happened I kept bouncing between sadness, embarrassment, and anger. I was miserable, but then those girls that he actually raped came forward. One of them said if he had not been caught on tape attacking me, she would have never come forward.” Joey shook her head, “that poor girl said her own mom didn’t believe her. She said her mom told her that he has beautiful women throwing themselves at him so why would he need to rape her.” Tears began leaking from Joey’s eyes as she went on. “Baby girl was only fifteen when he raped her and she said if her mother didn’t believe her she knew that the police wouldn’t. Ohhhh that broke my heart.” The manicurist dabbed Joeys face with a piece of tissue.

  Joey smiled at her, “Thank you.”

  “That is just terrible,” Dorenda replied. “Some women should have never been allowed to have children.”

  “After hearing that I stopped pitying myself. Those young girls did get raped and as hard as he tried he couldn’t
rape me.”

  “I tell you this, God works in mysterious ways and everything happens for a reason. Dawhar came up against a woman that he couldn’t intimidate and he got exposed for what he truly is. The attack on you made it possible for those babies to come forward. Now they will be able to get the justice they deserve.”

  ***

  During his twelve years in the league Dawhar had been a celebrated wide receiver with unlimited talent comparable to the likes of Darelle Revis. At thirty-six he was faster and better than half the league’s young corners. A charismatic guy, fans across the nation loved Dawhar, therefore companies lined up to give him endorsement deals. Following the assault on Joey and the allegations from the other women, he was suspended from the league indefinitely. All of the endorsement deals he garnered over the years were snatched away, players around the league; including his friends disassociated themselves, and his wife hardly said two words to him.

  Once the city’s most beloved star, Dawhar, used to frequent the finest bars and restaurants. A lot of times he didn’t even have to take his wallet out. The red carpet that had been laid out for him at those establishments, were now rolled up for good. He was no longer welcomed. The only place the he could visit were hole in the wall dives, much like the eastside bar that he was in on this particular night drowning his issues in cheap cognac. It was filled with old coke heads, past-their-prime-prostitutes, and down trodden alcoholics. Dawhar didn’t mind the bar’s patrons, unlike everyone else in Charlotte they were not giving him dirty looks or heckling him with vulgar remarks.

  Sitting at the far end of the bar, slumped down with his forearms resting on the bar top. Dawhar had just knocked down his fifth double shot when an edgy young beauty breezed through the door. Fair skinned with wild wavy blonde hair, the petite chick had on extra tight blue skinny jeans, a red sequin tank, and six inch Baker’s heels. From just a glimpse of Dawhar sat attention. He watched as she switched to the middle of the bar and slid onto a bar stool.

  “Aye bar keep—” he called out waving the bartender over. “Give me another double and whatever she’s drinking,” he pointed at the girl. “I’m paying.” With all the trouble that he was in Dawhar still couldn’t help himself.

  The bartender went over to talk to the girl then returned to the end of the bar with Dawhar’s double shot.

  “She wants you to sit with her.”

  Dawhar hopped off the stool and staggered over to her and took a seat on the stool next to her. In a spanish coated accent she said, “thank you for my drinks.”

  “You are very welcome and beautiful,” he garbled. “What are you?”

  “I black silly,” she giggled.

  “With that accent?”

  “I’m a black Dominican.”

  “Okay, okay, I’m D. What’s your name?”

  “I’m Mya.”

  “Mya what is your fine ass doing in a nasty joint like this?”

  “I come here for the strong martinis.”

  Drooling and disrobing her with his eyes Dawhar said, “I know somewhere much nicer than this with better martinis.”

  “And where is that?”

  “The Ritz. I can get a room. We can order up some food and all the martinis you want.”

  “Sure.”

  “For real?” he couldn’t believe she agreed so easily.

  “Yeah.”

  Dawhar threw some money on the bar, “Let’s go.” With his blood alcohol level triple the legal limit he swayed and wobbled out the door.

  “Would you like for me to drive?” she asked, expressing concern for his ability

  to drive in his condition.

  “Why not?” he tossed her the keys without warning. “Have you ever driven a Bentley before?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t know why I even asked you that. Looking at those cheap ass shoes you ain’t never been close to a Bentley or inside one.” He bowled over in a fit of laughter.

  Stupid Idiot, Mya thought not amused.

  “Damn baby don’t be mad you rolling with a rich nigga, enjoy. Shit, you

  suck this dick good I’ll change your life.”

  A black cargo van with blacked out windows pulled up behind Dawhar. The sliding opened suddenly. Dawhar turned and came face to face with three masked men. He twisted his body to run, but his efforts were thwarted by a black hood that one of the men slipped over his head. A long syringe was plunged into Dawhar’s neck, the fluid from the needle knocked him out instantly. The men tossed his body into the van and sped away.

  “Pendejo Bastardo,” Mya muttered. “Tonto del culo.” She laughed as she slid comfortably into the Bentley driver’s seat. Starting the engine, she operated the luxury vehicle with ease. She owned two. “I hate cheap shit,” she kicked off the shoes and tossed them onto the backseat.

  The name Mya was an alias, her real name was Dorca and she belonged to a well-structured hit squad out of South Florida. Dorca wheeled the Bentley to the parking lot’s exit, waited for the tractor trailer to pass, and made a right out of the parking lot. The trailer’s mechanical rear door slid upward, a silver metal ramp descended onto the street, and Dorca drove the Bentley into the trailer. The ramp retracted, the door went down, and the tractor disappeared into the night.

  Chapter Eight

  “Ooh my face is beat to death,” Joey raved peering into the floor length mirror in the living room of an extravagant three bedroom yacht that belonged to a yacht rental company that Zay owned. She had just received a flawless makeup job from M. Latrice, Miami’s top makeup artist and the head of makeup at King of Diamonds.

  “I’m glad that you like it,” M said, scurrying around the room packing her makeup case.

  “I know that Charlotte doesn’t compare to Miami, but there has to be something I can do to steal you from KOD’s.” Joey joked. “No, but for real I want to at least fly you in for my big events.”

  “Now that is something that can be arranged, but aren’t the artist at the Luxe spa really good?”

  “Not as good as you. I mean I can do what they do.”

  “I could come up and do some hands on training classes with them.”

  “That is a wonderful idea!”

  “Before you leave Miami let’s sit down and work out the details.”

  “Okay,” Joey said rummaging through her purse for cash. “M, did Cee pay you?”

  “No, I almost forgot. She told me to call her when I was done with you.”

  “I’m paying for the both of us,” Joey handed her four crisp one-hundred dollar bills.”

  “Thank you Joey. I’m sorry that I have to rush. I really wanted to see you in your gown, but it’s one of our busiest nights at KOD. I have to get there early. Are you guys still coming through after your event?”

  “Yes we’ll be there. The section is already reserved,” she replied escorting M off the yacht.

  “See you tonight and I want to see plenty of pictures.”

  “Alright, see you later.” Joey returned to the main salon. “Cee, I’m ready.”

  Chatting and laughing amongst themselves in an intimate manner Cee and Jason entered the salon. Zoning in on their body language— are they flirting? Joey thought.

  “Jo do you want me to do your hair in here or in the bathroom?” Cee asked.

  “The bathroom is fine,” she responded eyeing the pair suspiciously.

  “Give me five minutes to set up,” Cee left the room.

  When she was out of earshot, Joey questioned her brother-in-law.

  “What’s going with you two?”

  “What do you mean what’s going on?”

  Cocking her head to the side, Joey twisted her lips. “You know exactly what I mean. Ever since y’all got down here y’all been real chummy, chatty and touchy-feely.”

  “It ain’t like that, Cee good peoples and she needs someone in her corner right now. She don’t wanna burden you and Ev too much.”

  “Yeah right!” Joey scoffed with one hand on her hip; sh
e pointed at him. “Jason don’t be taking advantage of my friend while she is grieving.”

  “I’m looking out for your friend, if her two best friends were on their job,” he stopped short before spilling the beans about Cee’s coke habit. “Look sis, you the last person I thought would be coming at me like that you know I don’t get down like a creep.”

  “Mmm hmm,” she said surveying his army green tee and fatigue cargo

  shorts. “Why are you not dressed and where is Zay?”

  “Right here,” Zay entered the room in a dark beige tee and beige fatigue pants.

  Joey looked at her watch.

  “When are y’all going to start getting ready? The car is going to be here in less than an hour.”

  “I changed the pick-up time; the car will be here in two and a half hours.”

  “Why did you that?”

  “I have something important to take care of.” Zay kissed her softly slipping her a little tongue. “We’ll be back.”

  Zay and Jason left the yacht, walked down the marina, and boarded a speed boat with two dark skinned Cuban men. The driver appeared to be in his late sixties and the younger Cuban couldn’t have been more than nineteen years old. The boat sped away and didn’t slow down until they were deep into the glades. The younger Cuban went below deck and returned with a man whose head was covered by a black sack. The man’s wrist were tied so tight that they were deeply bruised and covered in dry blood. The young Cuban flung the hooded man onto the tarp covered floor. Zay reached down and snatched the hood from the man’s head. Dawhar opened his eyes, but couldn’t make the shadowy figures against the purplish-orange sun setting sky. He blinked rapidly to gain focus. When his vision cleared, his eyes bulged when he recognized Zay. He immediately began pleading, but it was just a bunch of muffled hums, because his mouth was covered in duct tape.

  “Yeah nigga,” Zay grinned wickedly. “I’m guessing right about now you realizing you fucked with the wrong man’s wife, huh? You probably thought I was some lame ass dude.” Dawhar shook his head side to side hastily.