Destiny looked at the title of her packet.
“The (5) P’s of Perdition.”
* * *
The video shoot was wrapping for the day when Doe went over to consult with Blow about the next step. Doe had barely gotten in two sentences before someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around to find Dana.
“Can I speak with you a second?” she requested. She was still wearing her turquoise bikini. Her silky hair was damp and matted to her forehead.
“Uh, yeah, just a second.”
Doe wrapped up the conversation with Blow and returned his attention to Dana.
“A’ight, what’s up?”
“Ah, nothing much. I just wanted to thank you for giving me motivated inspiration to finish.” Dana laughed. “For a minute I got worried.”
“Ah, come on, it wasn’t that bad, was it?”
“Shoot. You just don’t know.” Dana laughed again. “This shit could get to you. Come on, let me see more ass, show something for the camera,” she joked, imitating the director.
Doe laughed with her. “True, true. But hey, you’re living out your dreams, aren’t you?”
“Kind of sort of.” She gave Doe a longing look.
“Kind of sort of? Well, what’s missing?” he asked. Dana fixed Doe with a penetrating stare.
“I’m really missing a good man. You know any?”
There she goes with this flirting.
“Well, uh—”
“Any good man that’s not happily taken?” She put extra emphasis on “happily.”
“I’m ready to go, Daddy.” Niya appeared from out of nowhere, interrupting the exchange. She clutched Doe’s arm in a vise grip. “You done?”
Doe was taken aback, and for a minute thought he had gotten caught up. One glance at Niya showed him different.
He had escaped—this time.
“Yeah, Sunshine. I’m ready.”
“Good. Come on.” Niya led the way toward the parking lot where Doe’s Ducati was parked.
“Guess I’ll see you later,” Doe told Dana half-heartedly. “You coming to the release party, right?”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” she promised.
“A’ight. Peace.”
Doe and Niya arrived in the parking lot. Niya slipped on her shorts while Doe took the bike off the kickstand. Niya was seething. Her day had started out well. She and her husband had brought the sun up with fabulous lovemaking, followed by breakfast in their birthday suits. Niya left the house feeling all warm and fuzzy. She just knew her marriage was getting back on track. They had been married three years, and Doe was already on the verge of being an absentee husband. Niya had considered getting herself a jump-off, but decided to give her husband more love instead. She thought things were getting back to normal....
Until she saw her husband’s dick getting hard twice for the same chick in the same day. Yeah, she’d definitely have to keep her eye on her husband.
Chapter 15
Qwess was thousands of feet above the clouds in a private jet, but that wasn’t the reason he was in heaven. Lisa Ivory, Slasher Extraordinaire, was inducting him into the mile-high club for the second time in three days.
They were on their way back from Jamaica in a chartered jet from a trip that Lisa had designed and starred in—all on her dime. She had called Qwess at his home four days earlier telling him she had a surprise. While she was on the phone with Qwess, his buzzer at the front gate buzzed. Before Qwess answered it, Lisa told him who it was: a car that she had sent. She instructed Qwess to just get in. No clothes. No bags. No nothing. Just bring himself. After a few phone calls to his other partners, Qwess was whisked away in the limo. The limo went to the airport, but detoured to the hangar where the private jets docked. Qwess boarded the Gulfstream V and settled into its plush confines. In no time he was asleep. He awoke in Kingston, Jamaica, where a car was waiting to take him to the port. At the port, he boarded a ferry to a private island. When the boat docked and put Qwess off, he stood looking at a red-roofed villa—the only building in sight. Surrounding the villa were the usual perquisites of vacationing: pool, tennis court, basketball court, etc. Qwess walked up the sand to the villa and was greeted by a very happy Lisa wearing nothing but a smile and her trademark braids. Needless to say, they sexed each other away for the remainder of the day into the night.
The next day, Lisa fed him in bed. After that, she led him to a room inside the villa that had been converted to a massage room. Aromatherapy candles burned throughout the room. Lisa instructed Qwess to lie down on his stomach so she could massage him. Lisa poured hot oil on Qwess’s back and began to knead it in. Before long, Qwess felt two pairs of hands on his back. Startled, he turned over quickly to find a beautiful, buxom woman with flawless chocolate skin sitting on the edge of the table. She was as naked as Qwess and Lisa. Initially, Qwess was shocked. Not to find a naked masseuse. After all, he was an international player. He was shocked that Lisa didn’t mind, or better yet that she had arranged it. Then it hit him. He suddenly realized what was happening. His suspicions were confirmed when Lisa smiled at him and started kissing the girl. Seeing the encounter aroused Qwess immediately. His dick stood straight up like a flagpole.
It wasn’t ignored long. Lisa bent over and put the whole thing in her mouth—very slowly. By the time she caught a rhythm, the other woman started eating her out.
It was true. Lisa played Ironman; she played both sides of the field—men and women.
The woman ate Lisa out like she owned that pussy. Like she knew it well. Like she had been there before. She made Lisa moan and shake almost harder than Qwess. She stopped munching Lisa long enough for Lisa to straddle Qwess. When Lisa began riding Qwess like a prize jockey, the woman came around to sit on Qwess’s face. Before Qwess could resist, Lisa stopped her. Instead of the woman straddling Qwess face, Lisa did, while her companion straddled Qwess. Lisa and the woman kissed each other while Qwess pleased them both. When the other woman was about to reach peak satisfaction, Lisa sensed it and prevented it from occurring. It appeared she was on the verge of spazzing out! She violently pushed the woman off of Qwess, but regained her composure shortly thereafter. Lisa decided no one would climax from Qwess’s skills but her. So to keep the action going, she made the mystery woman lie on the massage table spread-eagle and began tasting her juices while Qwess watched. Before long, Qwess had had enough watching, so he entered Lisa from behind while she stood, bending over, lapping up her companion. Much of the rest of the day was spent in some freaky form or fashion.
The next day when Qwess awoke, Lisa was on one side, the other woman was on the other. Qwess had experienced his first ménage à trois and it was wonderful! He had screwed the finest women the world over, but never had he experienced a ménage. Now that he had, nothing else would be sufficient.
Later in the morning, the woman left, leaving Qwess and Lisa alone. They ate. Talked. Fucked. Ate some more. Now they were on their way back home in a private jet that was plushed out and cost about $40,000 a day. Lisa footed the bill for the whole excursion. And as if that wasn’t enough, she was presently trying to suck the soul out of him.
Qwess moaned louder and louder as Lisa’s movements intensified. Then suddenly she stopped.
“What’s wrong?!” Qwess gasped.
“Nothing,” Lisa stated flatly. She got off her knees and sat in Qwess’s lap. “I want to talk some more.”
Qwess regained his composure and obliged her. “What’s up, Ma?”
Lisa smoothed her hair before laying her head on Qwess’s chest.
“You know I was just thinking. I really like spending time with you.”
“Uh-huh. And?”
“And I was thinking about moving closer together.”
Qwess cleared his throat. “Excuse me?”
“I mean, just think if we could spend every day like we did at my villa this weekend—minus the help, of course.” Lisa chuckled then thought about something. “By the way, how do you feel about
what happened this weekend?”
“What you mean? It was straight. Food was nice. Weather good. Weed was blazing. What more could I want?”
“You are a mess.” Lisa tapped Qwess playfully. “You know what I’m talking about. The massage.”
“Oh. The massage was excellent. Left me very relieved.”
“Uhh! Qwess, I’m serious.” Lisa flapped her arms in irritation.
“A’ight. A’ight. For real. I’m cool with it.”
“Really?” She perked up.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Well, you know . . .”
“I know what?” prodded Qwess.
“A lot of people look at me differently when they find out I’m greedy.”
“Greedy?”
“Yeah, see, I’m not gay, bisexual, or nothing. I’m greedy. I want it all. Women and men.”
Qwess chuckled. “Girl, you crazy.”
“Nah, really.” Lisa straightened up to drive her point home. Looking Qwess straight in the eye, she proceeded to make her case. “As you know, I’m an overachiever. I have to master everything I do. Like, I can’t just sing. I have to act, model, produce, the whole shebang. I have to be a Slasher,” she explained. A Slasher was an artist who mastered more than one skill. “Well, that same drive applies to everything I do, including my sex life. I mean, I love men and the way they make me feel, especially when they know what they’re doing—shout-out to you . . .”
Qwess blushed.
“But I also love women. They’re beautiful creatures. Their curves, skin, smell, everything.”
You’re preaching to the converted, thought Qwess. What he said was, “I feel you.”
“You do?” Lisa was surprised. For so long she hadn’t dated because she was afraid of being judged.
“Of course.”
“Good. So you don’t think any less of me?” She had to be reassured.
“No. Why would I?”
“O-kay.” Lisa was convinced. She replaced her head on Qwess’s chest. Then she had an afterthought.
“Do you want to know who that was?”
“If you want to tell me,” Qwess responded nonchalantly.
Lisa pinched him. “You don’t sound too enthused, or curious. Anyway, her name is Ruquiyah. We’ve been getting . . . intimate . . . since I was twelve. She’s also my best friend in the whole world. We’ve shared everything together. She is the only person that didn’t change up on me when I became famous. She always tells me to watch out for men like you. You wouldn’t believe how I had to convince her to go along with this.”
Qwess was curious. “What did you tell her?”
“I told her I was in love.”
Did she say love?
Qwess let her comment linger in the air. For the remainder of the ride, he relaxed and enjoyed the company of a beautiful, successful woman.
When their plane landed at the private hangar in Charleston, South Carolina, their paradise weekend was abruptly interrupted as they had company. A black Tahoe idled on the tarmac just outside the door.
“Who is that?” Lisa wondered aloud.
“I don’t know,” Qwess admitted. “But we’re about to find out. They’re coming this way.”
The stairs to the plane opened up, and two tall white men in dark suits boarded the plane. One of them made himself comfortable and took the open seat across from Qwess, while the other man stood closer to the open door of the plane.
“How’s it going, superstar? My name is Agent Michaels; I’m with the FBI.”
Qwess tensed up a bit. “What can I help you with, sir?”
The agent gestured around the cabin of the plane. “You came a long way from a prison cell, Qwess. You living good. And you’ve come a long way from the Crescent Crew . . . or have you?”
“Baby, excuse me for a second, please,” Qwess said to Lisa.
“Wait, Qwess, are you okay? Are you in some type of trouble? Because I can get my lawyer on the line right away.”
Qwess gave her a crocodile smile. “Nah, baby, I appreciate you, but I’m good. Just wait for me out there in the car.”
Lisa exited the plane and climbed into the Bentley that awaited them on the tarmac. When she was out of the area, Qwess turned his attention to the agent.
“Now what were you saying, sir?”
Agent Michaels leaned in closer, to just inches away from Qwess. “Qwess, I like you a lot. I can respect a man that came from nothing, a man that walked away from the game and never looked back. If you tell me that’s who you really are, then I’ll walk away and you’ll never see me again. But if I find out you’re still doing Crew business, I will put you back in the same cage you left when you were twenty-one.”
Qwess shook his head. “What you say your name is again? Agent what?”
“Michaels.”
“Well, Agent Michaels, can you please tell me why you came on my jet and interrupted my vacation? You better have a good reason for this, because I’m about thirty seconds away from having your badge,” Qwess promised.
“You know what this is about.”
“Enlighten me.”
“Don’t play stupid.”
“Fifteen seconds are gone.”
“Do I have to say it?”
“Ten seconds left.”
“The beating of John Meyers. You ordered it.”
Qwess allowed himself to relax a little. He thought for sure that Reece was back to his old ways and had committed a cardinal sin. This he could deal with.
“I don’t know what you talking about,” Qwess said.
“Soo . . . it’s just a coincidence that AMG released one of their biggest artists to you after their executive was savagely beaten?”
Qwess shrugged. “I don’t know how AMG conducts their business. I’m a businessman; I see an opportunity and I take it. My new artist is a great opportunity for my business.”
Agent Michaels huffed and leaned back in the plush leather seat. “You know, Qwess, I really thought this could have gone differently. This isn’t 2004 anymore. King Reece doesn’t have any more lives to give for your freedom. If I find out you ordered the beating, your ass is going down!”
At the door, a brief commotion ensued. A few seconds later, a huge shadow loomed behind Agent Michaels. It was Hulk.
“Everything all right here, Qwess?” Hulk asked, itching for some action. His disdain for law enforcement was apparent.
Qwess stared at Agent Michaels with a poker face. “Everything is fine, big guy. Agent Michaels here was just leaving. Can you show him out, please?”
“Qwess, let me leave you my card—just in case you learn anything that can help us.” Agent Michaels slid his card onto the wooden table.
“Agent Michaels?”
“Yes?”
“Get the fuck off my plane.”
* * *
Destiny and Reece were in her “cell” discussing the packet he had sent her while Reece showed her how to make a “setup.” Reece had been visiting Destiny regularly for the past couple weeks. Sometimes he would just come in and sit on the edge of her cot and watch her while she slept. Other times they would have engaging conversations.
Over the weeks, Destiny had seen Reece’s heart soften. Initially, he was hell-bent on revenge, forcing her to go through everything he experienced while incarcerated. It seemed the more she whined, the more he enjoyed it.
Then she stopped whining.
See, Destiny knew Reece’s Achilles heel. The only thing Reece hated more than a traitor was a coward. He absolutely loathed a person who begged for mercy. In his sight, the world never showed him mercy, and he had had to learn the hard way. He had to adapt and overcome or perish by the wayside. He figured if he had to take his pain like a man, then everyone else had to take theirs, too. Destiny knew this. She came to the conclusion that Reece was going to be whatever he wanted to with her, regardless. Begging would only incite him to other things. Her main priority was to survive and get to her son. So she pla
yed the passive-aggressive role each time Reece came around. She could see that it was working. She was slowly wearing down his resolve.
Reece poured the soup into a bowl and began mixing it. “So, what did you learn from the papers?”
Destiny sat cross-legged on the bed, then answered, “Well, I see some valid points, but why philosophy?”
Reece put down the bowl, then turned to give her his full attention.
“See, you got to think of all of them in order. They’re all predicated on one another. Call ’em off in order—” He used his fingers as totaling points. “Philosophy, propaganda, politics, police, and penal. Put together you have the five P’s of perdition. This concept has been used to destroy societies, while making the rich protected.”
“You still haven’t answered my question, Reece.”
Reece chuckled a little. “Everything starts from philosophy. You gotta understand what philosophy is. In the dictionary there are about ten definitions. Well, you can sum all ten of them up by saying that philosophy is the system of values incorporated based on long pondering of theories, histories, and subsequent hypotheses.”
“Subsequent what?” Destiny was educated, but she was finding it difficult to keep up.
Reece continued, “Okay now. Knowing that, you’ll know that all societies’ value systems start with philosophy. Once the framers of a society determine what’s moral—based on their adopted philosophy—then they start with the propaganda. The propaganda is to inform the masses of what’s acceptable or true based on the pondering of the forefathers. Once they use the media to get their points across, they enact policies. Hence the politics. The mind state being, ‘look, this is what’s up. You know this is what’s up because we told you what’s up with our propaganda machine.’” Reece was hyped now. He loved a good build.
“Now that you know this is what’s up, we are gonna enact policies because of what’s up—whether good policies or bad policies—we’re enacting them to deal with what’s up. Ya follow me?”
Destiny nodded. She was finally beginning to understand.
“Okay. Now, it’s like this: This is what’s up. You know this is what’s up because we told you this is what’s up. Now as a result of what’s up, we made these policies. You ready for this?” Reece asked.
King Reece Page 15
