Most Wanted

by Turner, Nikki

  Lolah smiled because truly it was.

  “And perception is key,” she added.

  Matteo was a wise man with great understanding. Though he was a bit old-fashioned sometimes, she loved him like an uncle, godfather, or even a surrogate father for how he had taken her in. Though he could never in a million years take the place of her real father, he was a damn good fill-in.

  It was still uncertain to her the true dynamics of the bond that tied Matteo and her father together. But one thing she was sure of, it was a strong bond. And as bad as she wanted to know, she couldn’t take time to figure it out. Instead, she hurried, got dressed, and rushed out the house before he changed his mind.

  Though he could never be too careful when it came to Peaches, when things calmed down a bit, Mickey got a burner phone to call Peaches. Even though he’d been pulling in favors around town, trying to dig up dirt on the men Peaches killed, he didn’t have enough ammo for her defense. Toepani and his cops were determined to find Peaches, and posters were up all over town offering a reward for her capture. Months had passed, and it looked like Peaches was going to have to stay in hiding for a lot longer than expected.

  Once they were done with the call, Mickey would destroy the SIM card and the phone so the call would not be tracked. For each call, Mickey got a new phone from a different spot. Mickey usually called Peaches every Thursday to check on her and give her an update on the investigation.

  After Peaches spoke with her father, she went to pick Lyle up from his house, and they had a great day hanging out together. He was as extra as they come, and exciting at the same time. Being out with him made her realize just how much she’d missed her girlfriends and the ladies from her salon back home.

  Lolah and Lyle cruised down Washington Street with the top back and Chanel scarfs wrapped around their heads, tied under their necks, Thelma and Louise style. Lyle turned the volume down on the classic Lil’ Kim, Queen B CD they were rocking. “Can you pull in here and let me run into the store?” Lyle asked. “Chile’, you don’t even have to park. You can sit in the car; I just need to pick up one thing. I’ll be in and out in a flash, trust,” he assured her.

  “Cool,” Lolah said as she pulled in front of the high-end couture boutique.

  Parking was damn near impossible to find, so she pulled right in front of the store in the no parking zone, flipped on the emergency flashers, and prayed that no one came to give her a ticket.

  Lyle hopped out and made his way in while Lolah continued listening to the music but didn’t crank the volume back up. While she waited for Lyle to come back, naturally, she pulled the mirror down on the sun visor and applied a layer of Lucid lip gloss to her kissers and Mac press powder on her face to take the shine off her forehead. As she put the finishing touches on her face, something told her to look in the rearview mirror. Lyle was hightailing it out of the store, working his six-inch stilettos in the wind like track shoes. He was moving pretty fast, but not fast enough. It seemed like he wanted to run, but his six-inch stilettos were holding him up.

  “Start the car, bitch,” he managed to yell as he almost fell. He ran his out of his shoes and left them suckers right on the ground. She saw the look on his face that said, “Time to break out, bitch.” And make no mistake about it, she didn’t hesitate to do what she was told to do. Whatever was going on, she didn’t want to be caught up in the mix.

  Without hesitation, she put the car in Reverse, hit the button to raise the top, and backed up a little to try to help him get to the car quicker. When he noticed that Lolah was bout it-bout it, that’s when Lyle turned around and, like a track star, made a dash to go back and grab his shoes.

  Unbelievable. “Are you fucking kidding me?” she said as if he could really hear her.

  Lolah had one foot on the gas and one on the brake. She was about to reach over for the door handle, but he dove into the car without even opening the door as it was rolling down the street. One of the store employees had been hot on his heels literally hitting the trunk of the car as Lolah took off like a madwoman. The BMW ate up Washington Street and hung a right on Fifth.

  Lolah didn’t know what the hell was going on, but she didn’t waste time asking questions.

  “What the fucccckkkk just happened?” Lolah asked as she peeled out of there and headed northbound on the highway, making a clean getaway.

  “Bitch, I almost lost these motherfuckers?” Lyle had taken off his crystalized Yves Saint Laurent pumps off and held them in his hand, examining them for scratches or scuffs. “Boo-Boo, do you know what I had to do to get these bitches?” Before Lolah could respond, Lyle told her, “These babies were supposed to be on back order, but I hunted these babies down like wild game. Shiiiiit, I wish I would let these gems get away.” Lyle kept going on about the damn shoes while Lolah was in the process of trying to remember everything that Matteo had told her just this morning about the tricked-out BMW. She hit a button on the CD player to change the license plates. Another button to make the transitional tint on the windows to get darker. And another to change the inside color of the wheels from black to chrome.

  “Bitch, what the fuck we rolling in?” Lyle was surprised at the car’s features. “A fucking James Bond 007? Bitch, you got some explaining to do about this pimped-out shit. I know your peoples do cars and shit, but this shit here . . . is some atomic bomb type shit.”

  Lolah ignored him and said, “Shut the fuck up about the car and the got-damn shoes, and tell me why in the hell the people was chasing you like you stole something.”

  “Some fucking bullshit,” Lyle said, blowing her off. He then reached into his Chanel bag for his phone and called up somebody.

  Before Lolah could begin to express her frustrations, he was already jabbering a hundred miles a minute to someone on the other end of the phone. “Why the fuck? You give me a hot-ass card?” he said to whomever he was on the phone with. “Yeah, that shit was fucking flagged like a soldier. Hell, like a fool wearing a turban in the got-damn airport. Motherfuckers got The Bombshell on tape and some more shit. Hell, fucking with y’all, I might be on the evening news tonight. Who the fuck knows? All the fuck I do know is they almost had The Bombshell’s ass, but I smelt something fishy by the way the cashier was acting. Bitch gone tell me she gotta call in for an authorization.” He continued with the one-sided conversation. “After the shit took too long to go through, the bitch tells me something going on with their machine. But The Bombshell is smarter than that. I knew that look, and The Bombshell immediately said I’d come back. And as soon as I made my way to the door, bitch motioned for security to grab The Bombshell. But shit, The Bombshell was too fast for that fat motherfucker who luckily was paying for his Chinese food he’d just ordered.”

  Lolah had heard more than she needed to hear and was furious. Her first thought was to smack the cowboy shit out of him so hard that his head would fly out the passenger’s side of the window. But she knew that it was best that her intellect override her emotions, and that’s when she took a deep breath and asked him to get off the phone.

  “Hang up,” Lolah said to Lyle, then took an exit off the highway.

  Lyle wasn’t done with making his point on the horn and had the unmitigated gall to put his index finger up, for her to wait a minute while he finished his one-sided conversation.

  Lolah slammed on the B’mer’s brakes, forcing the tires to produce skid marks. Lyle bumped his head on the dashboard. Lolah said, “Now get the fuck off the phone.” She spoke firmly in a way that Lyle knew she was serious as cancer. He didn’t say the proper good-bye to whomever he had been going on and on with. He simply disconnected the call.

  Lolah was trying to keep her cool, but cool went out the window a few miles back. “Now, let me get this straight. So, you went into a store, leaving me out front of the store, top back, music playing, in freaking bird’s-eye surveillance camera’s view, unbeknown to me that I’d been given the title as getaway driver?” she asked, wanting an answer from Lyle even though
she already knew what the answer was.

  “I mean . . .” He looked for words. “I didn’t think it was going to be no big deal.” Lyle shrugged his shoulders and in a carefree way said, “Darling, you are making your makeup crack. A frown is not good for your look, honey,” he said and then got back to the topic at hand. “Seriously, Ms. Thing, my plan was to be in and out. Wanted to get this fire-ass blazer that I had to have. And I had even picked you up a little designer dress and was going to surprise you with it.”

  Lolah was stunned into silence, quiet as a church mouse, letting her mind run on how serious this shit really could be. Something as petty as some bullshit ass blazer could get her tore off and thrown into jail for the rest of her life.

  Lyle was oblivious. “Honey, you just don’t understand, that shit, that would have given the haters diarrhea. It was just that spicy.”

  Meanwhile, Lolah wasn’t hearing anything he had to say at this point.

  “Honey pie, get out the middle of this damn street and stop playing.”

  She looked him dead in the eyes and firmly said, “Get the fuccccckkkkk out of my shit.”

  Lyle had seen the look in her eyes that conveyed to him it was best to act like he was living out a Michael Jackson song and “Beat It” while he still could.

  8

  The Bootlegs

  After putting Lyle’s hot ass out of her car, Lolah drove a few more blocks away, parked the B’mer, and checked her lip gloss in the mirror. Once she was sure no one was looking, she gathered her personal things and got out too. She popped the trunk, grabbed her booty bag out of it, and stuffed it with the rest of the contents and let Pat and Turner go to work, patting the pavement and turning the corner.

  She couldn’t do it quick enough. There was a good chance that someone had seen what happened and gotten a good look at the car. Who knows? The salesman who was hot on his trail or someone else who was watching the whole thing unfold could have jotted the license plate number down. The very last thing she needed was to be stopped by the Jakes. Sticks told her that the ID Matteo had gotten for her was official and it looked legit, but Lolah wasn’t in a hurry to put the documents to any kind of unnecessary tests. Especially not for some stupid-ass guy who wanted a blazer.

  Once she had bent and turned a few corners, the first thing she did was call Sticks. “I’m in trouble,” she said when she got him on the phone, no Hello, how are you? Just those three words and he was all ears.

  Since the call had come in from her cell, Sticks knew she wasn’t in jail. He quickly asked where she was, but before she could answer the first question, he fired off another. “Are you hurt?”

  Lolah could hear the concern in his voice and it was genuine. She wondered if he was this way with everyone.

  “It’s nothing like that.” Too embarrassed to even give him the rundown over the phone. Her trying to form the words in her mind, before speaking, the shit even sounded stupid to her. The first time she got out of the house on her own, she put herself in major danger of getting knocked. She told Sticks where she was and simply said, “I’ll fill you in when you get here.”

  Sticks said he would be there in twenty minutes. His tow truck bent the corner in fifteen minutes flat.

  Lolah walked out of the sandwich shop where she had been waiting, two cop cars had already drove by the B’mer, but neither of them had stopped.

  “I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” she said when she got into the truck with Sticks. “You probably think I’m a real pain in the ass, huh?”

  “You funny, baby girl. We all need a little help every now and again. But let me guess,” he said. “This has something to do with that loud-ass butterfly you met at the mall?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Besides the fact that fool had trouble painted across the back of his Tinker Bell-looking ass in neon colors? That was a pretty easy read,” Sticks said. “You two went out together: You are here, and he’s not.”

  “Pretty good, Sherlock,” she had to admit.

  “Whatever.”

  Then Lolah filled him in on what had gone down. “I didn’t want to take any chances by driving the car.”

  “No doubt. You did the right thing,” he assured her.

  “I will make a phone call and dump the car and that’ll be the end of it,” he said in a close and shut kind of way.

  Sticks acted like it was no big deal.

  “Won’t your father be pissed about the ride?” She knew Sticks and Matteo weren’t hurting for any money, but there was no way that Sticks could get fair market value for a new BMW at the drop of a dime. “He’s going to take a loss, and I will pay for it if I have to.”

  Sticks laughed at her naivety.

  “What’s so funny?” Lolah asked.

  “You still have a lot to learn,” he said, shaking his head.

  Lolah didn’t appreciate the fact that he was talking to her as if she were a child. “Fuck you.” She flicked him the finger.

  Sticks looked surprised that she had cursed at him, but the smile that had been glued on his face was gone.

  “I wasn’t laughing at you, baby girl. Don’t be so hot tempered.”

  “Then what were you laughing at?”

  “The car, I thought you knew it was a bootleg.”

  Lolah was too done. She frowned her face up with a mixture of confusion and surprise written all over it. “Chinese are bootlegging B’mers too. Them ma’fuckers got their hands in everything.”

  The beginning of a smiled formed, but Sticks quickly got rid of it. He was a quick learner.

  “My bad, baby girl, for not being clear. When I say bootleg—that means that the whip is hot, the VIN number has been changed, matching a fake new title and registration, that’s official, Motor Vehicles doesn’t even have a way to detect it. Ya feel me?”

  “Okay, I got it,” she said, but was still processing the scenario of the hustle through her head.

  Sticks added, “But make no mistake, the Chinese are some bad mofos too.”

  It took less than thirty minutes for Sticks to complete the transaction to off the BMW, and in a strange way Lolah was impressed.

  They were on their way back to the house when she asked, “Is bootleg vehicles another entity of your and Matteo’s business?”

  “Not really. Don’t have the time and energy it takes to do it right. So that everything can smooth over, between the supplier of the cars, clientele to dump them in a timely manner, babysit the folks who doctor the titles and registrations. Too time consuming, detail orientated for me. Got better shit to do with my time.”

  Just as Sticks completed his sentence, Lolah got an idea. Getting into the car game would be perfect for her. She knew a little about cars and had the patience to see each car through. She also needed the money because her stash was running low and a new hustle could keep her busy as well as paid.

  “I just had a thought; hear me out.”

  “I’m afraid to ask.”

  “Why don’t you give me the game? Let me do it.” He was quiet and was about to shut her down, but she started talking a mile a minute. “I can’t live off you and your father for the rest of my life. He always tells me I’m a part of the family and he wants me to feel like it. Then I should be able to contribute to the family business. Make my own money, which I’ve always done. And since playing poker, doing hair or makeup is totally out, why not bootleg cars?”

  When Sticks didn’t answer right away, she gave him a small sample of her résumé. “I’m smart, savvy, and business minded.” Then she went on to tell him about her salon and a few other ventures, legal and illegal, she had been a part of.

  Sticks reluctantly shared the pros and cons of the endeavor at hand. “Trust me, it’s not as easy as it sounds. Besides, if you are as good as you think you are, the competition won’t like you and that could pose as a problem.”

  Lolah asked, “Are you afraid of the competition?” She knew the question would punch at his ego.

  Stick
s quickly pointed out, “It’s not about being afraid or not afraid. It’s about avoiding unnecessary trouble whenever possible. Ya feel me?”

  “I feel ya, Sticks.”

  “Good.”

  “But also know that some waters just have to be addressed once you get to the bridge.”

  Sticks couldn’t deny the girl could sell water to a whale, he thought, and then asked her, “Are you always this persistent when you want something?”

  “Always,” she said confidently.

  Sticks thought for a moment before relenting. “I know this guy,” he said, “that may be able to help you out with inventory, and has a few clients who would be ready to deal as quick as you get your hands on the cars.”

  “When can I meet him?” she asked, of the guy who could supply her with product.

  “Slow down, baby girl.” He made a left into their neighborhood. “He hangs out at this real fly ass club on Sunday nights. We can go and I will introduce you. You are going to have to dress to impress.”

  “That’s who Lolah Escarda is, a glamorous chick who is definitely about that life,” she reminded him.

  “But no promises.”

  Lolah smiled. She knew that all she needed was the ropes and the introduction and she could take it from there. “I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

  9

  Expensive Grapes

  “Lolah,” Sticks called out from the bottom of the steps. “Man, bring your ass on if you trying to make this move.”

  “Here I come,” she said as she applied her lipstick, then took one last glance over in the mirror.

  She had been up in her quarters for the past few hours trying to pull herself together. Her father told her it was better to always be safe than sorry. To play it safe, Lolah made some changes to her appearance just in case anyone had gotten a good enough look to identify her the day before as she made her fast getaway courtesy of Lyle. She dyed her hair from jet black to a honey blond, which with her light complexion made her look more exotic and complemented the gray contacts she inserted. This transformation definitely was her best yet, totally upgrading and polishing her look to a whole other level.