by Zaire Crown
Tuesday disarmed the alarm, disengaged the bolt lock, but left on the security chain. She cracked the door and peeked out between the one-inch gap that the short chain allowed.
“Can I help you?” she asked with enough attitude to let him know she considered this an intrusion. The muzzle of the gun was pressed against the door ready to fire straight through the wood if he presented a problem.
The handsome neighbor beamed a smile that instantly defused her. “My apologies for disturbing you at this late hour. I was just about to entertain company out on my terrace when I noticed this little fella stuck out on the ledge.” He was gently stroking a bundle of white fur he had cradled in his arm.
“Oh, my God!” Tuesday quickly unchained the door and threw it open to receive her cat. It only dawned on her then that in the three hours she’d been home she hadn’t seen Nicholas once—even when she got undressed for the shower, which should’ve instantly alerted her. She accepted him, then brought his face up to meet hers. “Fur face, what the hell are you doin’ out the house?”
Still smiling but cautiously eyeing her pistol, the neighbor explained: “You know that one-foot ledge of decorative molding that goes around the building? Well, my guess is that the little guy climbed out onto it from your terrace to try and get after some pigeons and just went out too far. He was actually closer to my side than yours and it took me about twenty minutes to lure him onto my balcony with a can of sardines.”
“Bad kitty! Bad, bad kitty!” She playfully admonished Nicholas with a finger trying to look cute for the nigga. She dropped the cat and he instantly scampered into the apartment for his water dish or perhaps his litter box.
“I am so embarrassed,” she said with a flirty smile. “I promise to keep a better eye on him.”
“It’s no problem. I’m just sorry that I had to interrupt your shower.”
Tuesday had forgotten to take off the shower cap that she wore to protect her new do from the water and humidity. She quickly snatched the plastic bag off her head, now genuinely embarrassed.
He was brown-skinned with naturally curly hair that suggested he might be some sort of mixed breed, with just a touch of gray at the temples that made him look dignified. He was wearing a blue pin-striped suit that Tuesday’s expert eye told her was tailored for his build and not some ninety-nine-dollar off-the-rack shit from Men’s Wearhouse. With a glance she also did a quick appraisal of his gold watch, diamond cufflinks, pinky ring, and the Italian loafers he wore with the suit. The nigga was bossed up with a white-collar swag.
He said, “As many times as we’ve passed each other in the hall, I just realized that this is our first conversation.” He was checking out her exposed legs in a way that made Tuesday horny again.
“It’s nothing personal, I’m just really private,” she said. “But if there’s anything I could ever do to thank you for this.”
“Well, I was kinda hoping you could pay me back by allowing me to take you to dinner sometime!” He was wearing a boyish grin with eyes wide and hopeful for a yes.
Tuesday considered it, rejected it, wavered, reconsidered it, almost accepted, and reconsidered again before she finally said: “I’m sorry, but things are really crazy for me right now! I just broke up with somebody and—”
He held up his hand to indicate that she didn’t need to explain. “It’s okay, I know how it is. It’s just that I’ve wanted to approach you for so long and I would’ve never forgiven myself if I didn’t at least take my shot. Lord knows when I would’ve had another chance.”
Tuesday smiled, truly flattered. That’s what she loved about older men with game, because even in rejection they still came off smooth. It was almost enough to make her reconsider his invitation again.
“I can’t do dinner, but can I at least repay you with a hug?” she asked with her arms extended.
“My father told me to never refuse a beautiful woman wearing a nightgown and holding a gun.”
When they embraced, Tuesday pressed her entire body into his and held him tightly. His cologne had her going and a man felt so good in her arms right then that she had to resist the urge to pull him inside and jam her tongue down his throat. She held him so long that he actually started to rock up, and Tuesday squeezed him even tighter, loving how his piece felt pressed against her inner thigh.
“Derek!” A shrill female voice echoed from down the hall and startled them both into parting.
“Monica?” He looked at her confused as if his guest had already been forgotten. “I’ll be with you in just a minute,” he said with a guilty smile. “Why don’t you go get yourself another glass of champagne?”
Monica gave him a yeah, right look then just stood there mugging Tuesday with her arms folded.
Sizing her up, Tuesday thought the girl was pretty but not quite on par with her: she had a nose that didn’t fit her face and too much chin, like Jay Leno. She wore a red Dior dress that Tuesday knew would’ve looked better on her, with gold shoes that even she had to admit were pretty damn fly. Tuesday rated her a 7.9, points deducted for the nose and chin.
“Well, good night then,” Derek said to Tuesday with an apologetic look on his face.
Tuesday stood there for an extended moment wanting him to notice the erect nipples poking out the silk fabric of her peignoir. “Good night then,” she said, then finally closed the door.
Back inside, she closed the sliding glass door that she usually left cracked so that Nicholas could enjoy his favorite spot on the terrace. She then found him curled up on her bed.
She pulled the cat onto her lap and stroked him while she thought over the dinner invitation. Having dick right next door might be convenient, but she also knew that it was potentially disastrous. Niggas started off loving the idea of a purely physical relationship but they ultimately began wanting more time and attention. This was the one place she had to escape all the craziness and drama in her life, so the last thing she wanted was a disgruntled ex-lover living right next door. Tuesday knew she had made the right choice; it was just her hot ass making her think otherwise.
Chocolate had always been a good substitute for sex so Tuesday fetched two Snickers ice cream bars from the freezer, then watched TV from her bed. She took large bites, still wishing that she had someone to fill her other holes. To help keep her mind off dick she watched her favorite movie, The Usual Suspects, for the thirty-somethingth time.
She cut off the TV and tried to crash at about two a.m., but suddenly an idea hit her like a lightning strike. It made her eyes pop open as she sat up in bed. Beyond her window was a view of the Detroit River and Ambassador Bridge, so she stared at that dark landscape plotting the ins and outs of her plan.
It was brilliant, but would need perfect timing and precision to pull off. It would also require a little help from Tushie in a role that she would need some serious convincing to play.
As she sat there putting it all together in her head, Tuesday began to hear loud moans and the sound of a squeaking bed coming from the next condo. Obviously Monica had forgiven Derek and he was over there putting the smash on her to show Tuesday what she’d turned down.
She rolled her eyes jealously as she listened to the big-chin bitch get dick that was meant for her. After a while she went into the kitchen for a third ice cream bar.
Chapter Eight
The next day Tuesday made everything all about studying her mark. She parked the Caddy and jumped in the low-key green Honda that she rented so she could follow him more discreetly. She met him outside the school in the morning when he dropped off the girl and just tailed him the entire day. She wanted to know where he went, why he went there, who he went to see, and when he was going back.
The squad typically took months to study a mark before finally approaching him, but everything had to be rushed in this case. In an early phone conversation, Dresden confirmed that the feds were indeed about to move on him and Tuesday felt like she was actually in a race with them. She normally wouldn’t even consider taking
a look at someone who she knew was in the process of being indicted but, just as she explained to the girls, this was potentially a life-changing lick. She wanted to take a big wet bite out of his ass before the alphabet boys seized and froze everything he had.
After dropping the girl at school, he returned home and spent about three hours working around his yard: mowing the lawn, trimming hedges, etc.
Then at around eleven he emerged again in athletic gear and jogged to a gym that was about three miles from the house. Since she couldn’t creep behind him without drawing attention, Tuesday cruised past him several times yet he didn’t seem to notice her.
Finally peeping his face without sunglasses, Tuesday saw that he was a straight-looking nigga. Dark-skinned and tall, just the way she liked them. She could also tell that he was a regular at the gym because the nigga was cut up—not overblown like some steroid-pumping juice-head—lean but ripped, like a middleweight boxer.
While he jogged, Tuesday found herself staring at his bulging calves and the way his muscles strained against his tight wifebeater when he moved. Much like her stomach had done yesterday, it was now her pussy sending constant reminders that she needed to be fed.
Tuesday didn’t have a membership so she couldn’t follow him inside the gym, but his workout lasted an hour and a half, after which he took his lunch at an eatery across the street with open-air dining. Using the binoculars, Tuesday watched from a block away as he washed down a club sandwich with Gatorade. He ate alone and spoke to nobody other than the smiling waitress who tried several times to converse with him, but he seemed far more interested in his newspaper than the obvious flirting that she was doing.
By the time he jogged back home, she imagined that he only had a minute for a quick shower before he left to pick up his daughter. She followed the Audi back up to Bishop Burchram and then they returned to the house after hitting Dairy Queen again—apparently an after-school ice cream was a daily ritual they shared. Daddy and daughter didn’t leave the house again except for a quick trip to the supermarket around six that evening.
If he was a big-time dope boy, Tuesday couldn’t tell, because he made no moves that suggested he was involved in anything illegal. He didn’t meet with anybody, didn’t go drop anything off or pick anything up. The nigga was so laid back that he obeyed all the traffic laws when he was driving.
She kept reminding herself that the feds weren’t at him for no reason, so all she could do for the next couple of days was watch and wait for her opportunity to get close to him.
Over the next three days Tuesday, Tushie, and Jaye took turns watching him. Each morning someone would be waiting outside the school for him to drop the girl off, whether it was Tuesday in the Honda, Jaye in her Chrysler 200, or Tushie in her big (and not exactly low-key) Hummer H2.
During the morning while most of the neighbors worked, they could get away with being parked on the street watching the house for hours, but in the afternoon and evening they would look suspicious. In the spring when the weather was balmy and the children were playing outside, any strangers parked for a long time on a residential block with a pair of binoculars would probably have the police called on them.
For this reason they had to be creative in their surveillance. Because he lived within a cul-de-sac, there was only one way on and off their block, which meant they didn’t have to watch the house directly. Whoseever day it was could simply park along the cross street and wait for the Audi to leave, and she would catch a glimpse of it from practically anywhere along that side street, since the military binoculars Tuesday had got from Face had a maximum range of twelve hundred yards.
Doll was the only one in the crew who didn’t have a car, and since Tuesday didn’t bother asking Brianna to help tail him, it was the fourth day and her turn again.
Learning his schedule had been relatively easy because, after comparing notes with Tushie and Jaye, Tuesday peeped that the man had a daily routine that he kept to without fail. Tuesday hadn’t spent that morning parked outside the school because she didn’t need to know where he was if she knew where he was going to be.
She had spent that entire day coordinating with Tushie so they could set up their plan. Because the daddy-daughter duo stopped for ice cream after school each day, Tuesday decided this small window was the best opportunity to lay down their play. But timing was everything: neither her or Tushie could be a minute late or the whole thing would be a bust and there wouldn’t be a second chance.
That morning Tuesday put more thought into her outfit than the average seventeen-year-old headed for prom. She wanted to look hot but couldn’t walk up wearing a backless gown from Oscar de la Renta either. Since he did the gym every day, Tuesday wanted to look like they had that in common. After rejecting four options, she finally chose a black sports bra with pink and black vertical striped tights—because the stripes would accentuate her curves more than a solid color. To round out the look, she chose a pair of black Nike cross-trainers with pink trim and wore her hair pulled back into a ponytail. She needed to look natural and not all glammed up so she went light on the makeup; just a little bit of eyeliner and some lip gloss.
By two thirty p.m. Tuesday was parked at the bank down the block from the Dairy Queen making herself ready for their first meeting. Her mark was probably picking up the girl right then and would most likely be there in five minutes. Tuesday had to time their arrival just right so it wouldn’t look as if she was waiting on him. At 2:33 she sprinkled herself with some bottled water to look like she’d worked up a sweat, then checked herself in the mirror one last time before climbing out the car.
She jogged down the street to arrive at the Dairy Queen just as they were pulling up. He parked the Audi, leaving the girl inside, and stepped to the window just behind Tuesday, exactly the way she planned it.
Tuesday ordered a small caramel sundae and made a subtle show of leaning into the service window with her butt poked out while she waited. Using the reflection in the glass, she wanted to see if he was checking her out, but the mark just stood there waiting patiently for his turn. She didn’t draw his attention the way she had hoped.
After receiving a dish of caramel-covered soft serve, Tuesday paid and turned away from the window, when she suddenly screamed: “Hey! Get away from her!”
Startled, he looked over to see a ratty-looking homeless woman standing next to his Audi. She was leaning into the back passenger window trying to offer the girl a handful of candy.
Before he could respond, Tuesday dropped her sundae, ran over and slammed her up against the car. Tuesday grabbed hold of her grimy coat and they got into a brief tussle.
The insane woman cried out: “I want to eat her eyes! I want to eat her eyes!”
Tuesday shook her up then slung her to the ground. The hag scrambled to her feet and Tuesday kicked her square in the ass before she took off around the corner.
“That’s right! You betta run wit yo triflin’ ass!”
Tuesday turned to the little girl, breathing heavily. “Sweetheart, are you okay?”
From inside the car the girl nodded that she was, even though the little darling looked more afraid of Tuesday than she did of the homeless stranger.
He ran over. “Dani, you didn’t take anything from her, did you?”
The little girl shook her head for an emphatic “no.”
After checking on her, the father turned to Tuesday. “Thank you. I’m glad you were here. We stop here every day and nothing like this has ever happened before.”
Tuesday nodded. “You can’t be too careful. It’s a lot of sick people out there. I mean, anyone who would try to do something to a child is just the worst in my book.”
He smiled. “Well, I’m glad you was here. You jumped in there and took care of business like some type of superhero—need to call you Wonder Woman.”
Tuesday shrugged. “Two kickboxing classes and a self-defense course. Never thought I’d have to use it in an area like this.”
“It’s n
ormally a nice neighborhood. I only live six blocks from here, which is why this whole thing is so weird. Do you live nearby?”
Tuesday shook her head. “Actually I’m from Detroit. I just left the gym and had a little business at the bank up the street. The lines were long so I thought I would zip down here for a quick treat while it thinned out. I didn’t expect the trip to be so adventurous.”
She looked down at the ice cream splattered on the cement. “Maybe this was God trying to tell me that I shouldn’t be cheating on my diet.”
He led Tuesday back to the window. “Well, I think the very least I could do is buy you another. Besides, I don’t see any reason for you to be worried about a diet anyway,” he added with a sly smile.
Tuesday smiled back, but it was only because he took the bait just like she thought he would. By now the homeless hag, who was actually Tushie in disguise, was back in her Hummer, which she left parked around the block, and headed back to the city.
Tuesday had gotten the idea from her neighbor when he rescued Nicholas. It had been a great way for him to break the ice and cut into her for a date. Even though it didn’t work for him because of Tuesday’s own personal reasons, she intended to make it work for her.
Caine replaced her sundae while buying treats for himself and the girl, and when he offered Tuesday a ride back to her car, she reluctantly accepted. As he drove her down the street, Tuesday quietly admired him and the luxurious interior of the A8. He pulled into the parking lot of the bank and she directed him to the green Honda. He slotted his car next to hers.
For about a minute there was a brief but awkward silence between them before she pushed the door open. “Well, thanks again for this,” she said, holding up the ice cream. “And the ride.” She turned in her seat and waved good-bye to the girl, who waved back in between scooping mouthfuls of her own sundae.
