Coldhearted & Crazy (13 page)

Kenya was happy to be back in her hotel room so that she could try on all the new clothes that she'd bought. As she pulled the outfits out one by one, she started to smile. Thinking about the suit that Tony purchased for her made her insides get warm. She closed her eyes while remembering the smell of the cologne he had on and the his soft cheek. It made her want to run to the phone and tell him to turn back around, come up to her room, and fuck the shit out of her. It had been more than a minute since the last time she had gotten some and Tony's athletic body had the potential to be just what the doctor ordered. Kenya was getting wet just imagining.

 

 

Deacon had just hung up the phone. He and his partner Storm had been anticipating Zack's call for days. It was finally time for them to start to really blow up on their own, independent of any local connect who was cutting the product off jump. Deacon was small-time hustling since he was a teenager and had to spend every dime that he'd saved to open up his new club. His hope was to make Alley Cats the most popular strip club in Texas. Deacon didn't have any cash left in his stash when almost complete with the project, so his boy, a boss in his own right had his back. Deacon wasn't broke, but his cash flow was tapped out; that's why he needed Storm to come in on the deal.

When Zack got in touch with him with what was a deal of a lifetime, he and Storm had to jump on it. Storm, just like having his back for extra revenue for the club, still was holding hard. He was making some major chips and Deacon knew he was one of the only dudes in the city who had that type of cheese readily available. He knew that Storm would definitely want in on the deal. He was all about making money.

“Yo, my nigga! I was just wondering when you would show up. Your brother got here about a half hour ago. He told me you was out chasin' that cat.” Deacon had a huge grin on his face as he let his boy inside the door.

“Never that guy. I don't chase cat, cat chase me. Fuck what you heard!” Storm was holding his nuts, while both Deacon and O.T. made fun of him. “Y'all busters up in here fooling, hell, I might just make ol' girl wifey. Why you bullshitting? Ask O.T., that guy seen her ass. She's right with hers!” Storm was serious and they could tell. He was putting a deep bass in his tone as he spoke. “Deacon, I'm telling you, she's badder than any of these cum-drunk broads you got pole slanging up in this bitch!” He continued to campaign on Kenya's behalf, until he saw that all he was getting in response was laughter. Storm then grabbed the darts that were on the bar and started throwing them extra hard at the board.

“Listen, guy, I ain't mad at you. Do what you feel, but a nigga like me gonna keep a ho selling my half of the pussy! Matter of fact her half too! Ask my girl Paris, she'll tell you. I'm about that bread!”

All three of them fell out at O.T.'s crazy wannabe pimp-ass. Ready to handle business, the trio sat down, counting up all the money Deacon and Storm had put aside for their impending deal with Zack. When they made sure the count was correct, Deacon reached over the bar, getting the cordless phone. “Let me make this call and set this thing into motion.” Deacon dialed the number Zack had just given him and waited for someone to answer. After three rings, a sexy-sounding female answered.

“Hello.” Kenya saw the area code on her caller ID and knew it was the call that she was waiting for.

“Yeah, can I speak to Tastey?”

“This me. Who is this?” She automatically got into gangsta mode.

“This is Deacon. Can we meet up soon?” He started to pace the floor, anticipating making money. Storm and O.T. went behind the bar and each grabbed two beers, waiting for Deacon to get the tradeoff location.

“Damn, I wonder if she is tasty.” O.T. licked his lips as he opened his bottle.

Tastey looked at all her bags and thought about the only place that she knew how to get to in town and suggested the mall. Deacon quickly agreed.

“I'll tell you what. I'm gonna send my man Storm to make the exchange. Let's say about eight-thirty this evening. It will be real busy at that time with folks buying last-minute hookups for the night.”

Tastey thought about her dinner date with Tony and wanted to make the drop-off sometime tomorrow. Yet she also knew, first and foremost, she was in town for business, and Zack's worrisome-ass would bug the fuck out if she messed this exchange up. “All right then, eight-thirty. Have him sit on the bench in front of the pizza stand in the food court. Put the cash in a shopping bag. You and Zack supposed to go way back, so he says, so there's no need to count it. He trusts you!” Tastey made her words sound like a threat. Deacon had mad respect for Zack because of his successful strip club experience and would never try to dick him. Besides, where would he go? Zack's grandma knew his grandma out there in Detroit.

Ending the call, Deacon gave his boy Storm the details of his and Tastey's brief talk. Deacon put the money in the bag, like requested, and gave it to Storm. As he parted ways with them, Deacon and O.T. prayed for the best.

 

 

Storm hoped Kenya wouldn't call him until he finished taking care of his business. Taking a hot shower he got dressed for the night. Planning on taking her to dinner at Lady Fee's Place, Storm was intent on showing her a good time. It was a jazz cafe that only cats with deep pockets could afford to take their girl to. Lady Fee's only sold the whole bottles of wine, not a glass. The smallest steak was forty-five dollars and that didn't include an entire meal. That was just for a sandwich.

“This female is something special. Fuck what them busters talking about. I want her ass bad!” Storm was talking to himself as he checked the mirror before leaving his condo.

Meanwhile, across town, Kenya was thinking almost the same thing.
I hope this dude Storm be on time. The sooner I get rid of him, the sooner I can get with Tony.
She put on her lipstick and checked her hair one more time before she left the room. To make sure that they were on for later, she took Tony's number out her purse and picked up the hotel phone. “Hello, may I speak to Tony please?” Kenya was twirling the cord around, blushing as she talked.

“Hey, ma. This me.” Tony saw the strange number and knew it was Kenya. He was of course overjoyed she called.

“I was just calling to see what was up. Were you still gonna spend some time with me later?” She tried to sound sexy.

He loved the way her voice purred already and his manhood was getting harder by the minute. “You know I ain't trying to let you get away from me that easily. I just need to make a couple of runs then I'll be ready. Give me to about nine-thirty and call me back, cool? We can get something to eat and check out some jazz at a little spot I know.” Fingers crossed, he hoped that she would agree with his plans.

“Oh, that's cool with me. I just woke up anyhow,” she automatically lied. Kenya was happy about the time he picked because she had to make a run also. “I'll be here waiting.” She was lying again, but what could she do? Tell him she was a drug mule from Detroit and was going to make a transaction before they met up? With her game face on, she went downstairs and got into one of the cabs that were posted in front of the hotel. It was time for her to get into “Tastey” mode.

 

 

Storm pulled the low-key piece of shit he was driving into valet. He got out and tossed the attendant the keys. Even if he was riding foul, he wasn't gonna be walking all far from the door in his $1,000 gators. He looked like a businessman trying to return a package for his wife, or something of that nature. Anxious to get this over with, Storm sat down on the bench and checked his diamond-filled watch for the time.
This bitch, Tastey or whatever, better be on time!
He got out the slip of paper that Deacon had given him with the bitch's 1-800 cell phone number on it and had it in his hand.

Tastey entered the mall at the other end opposite from the food court. She wanted to peep out her surroundings before she met up with ol' boy. There was no way she wanted to get set up and possibly killed. All the stories she'd heard of her parents' murder jumped back into her head. As the out-of-towner tried to appear casual, Tastey cautiously approached the bench. She saw the back of the guy's head and a shopping bag beside his leg. Knowing that must've been the guy she was supposed to meet, her heart started to beat fast. When she got closer, she shockingly realized that it was, of all people, Tony. She forgot all about the drugs she was carrying and immediately got a serious attitude. Kenya ran up on him and let her bloodline-inherited rage take over.

“Damn, is this your little run? You picking up one of your little bitches from work and got me waiting?”

He was in shock. He was at a loss for words. “Where did you come from, Miss Lady? I thought you were supposed to be at the hotel waiting for me.”

Storm was starting to get nervous because he knew that Tastey was due there any minute and didn't want Kenya to get the wrong idea. “Listen, Kenya, sweetheart, slow your roll. It ain't nothing like that.” Liking her “fuck the world” mentality, he liked the fact that she set tripping, acting jealous. It made him know that he wasn't the only one who, crazy as it seemed, was catching feelings so soon.

“Is this your li'l bitch number? Let me call the trick and tell her that she's been fucking canceled for the evening!”

He had forgotten that he had Tastey's name and number in his hand. Kenya, feeling disrespected, like she ran the world, had gotten beside herself and snatched the paper out his hand. Furious, she hated for any nigga to try to play her.

Storm, seeing things were quickly going south, held his head down because he knew that all hell was about to break loose when she read that name.
Please don't let this chic Tastey show up right now and set ol' girl off even more, please!
he kept repeating in his mind over and over.

“Oh hell fuck naw!” Kenya rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “Ain't this some crazy shit,” she hissed while sucking her teeth.

“Listen, baby. I'm trying to tell you it ain't like that. It's just business!” He was trying his best to take a cop like they'd known each other for years. “I don't even know the stankin' bitch. I swear!”

Kenya looked into his eyes and saw that he was starting to look hurt and decided to let him off the hook. “Damn, baby, why I gotta be all that? Tell Deacon he needs to teach you some manners. So, Tony, they call you Storm, huh?”

Storm stood up, giving her a dumbfounded look. “Is that why you in town? You're Tastey? Oh my God! You right! Ain't this some shit?” He had to smile too at the irony of the situation.

After about ten minutes of tripping on what they were obviously there to accomplish, the couple decided to split up and meet after they finished both their business. He walked her to the taxi stand at the mall and kissed her. This time it was a small peck on her lips.

“You know this is a sign, right? We're supposed to be together.” Storm wanted her even more. He knew that she had game and would have a nigga's back in the streets if need be.

“Okay then, I'll meet you at nine-thirty in front of the hotel. And don't keep me waiting!” She blew a kiss to him as the cab pulled off away from the curb. Storm wanted to drive her back himself personally, but having drugs, a gun, and a lot of money in the car didn't mix no matter which way you calculated it.

Within minutes of Kenya getting back in her room, her cell phone rang again. “Yes, baby!” She answered it without checking the caller ID, assuming it was Storm.

“Hey, Kenya, is that you?” It was her twin sister and it sounded like she was crying.

“What's wrong, London, why you crying?” Kenya was instantly frantic, hearing her sister moan.

London started crying harder and couldn't get the words out, so Fatima took the phone out of her hand. “Hey, Kenya. This is Fatima.” She focused on driving while preparing to deliver her roommate's sister the tragic family news. “Girl, you need to come home. There's been an accident. Your uncle has been shot. We're on the road now on our way to Detroit.”

Kenya was full of questions, just as London was when she first heard the news. “I thought he was in jail.”

Fatima was trying to drive and talk and had to cut the conversation short. “Listen, Kenya, I know you're out of town, but you need to catch the first flight back. We'll see you when you get here.”

Kenya quickly packed her shit up and stashed the money in different suitcases. She checked out the hotel and rushed to the airport. There was a flight leaving in eighty-six minutes and she planned to be on it if at all possible. On the ride to the airport, she tried to call Heads Up, but didn't get an answer. It constantly went straight to voicemail. She then decided to call Storm and explain to him what she'd just heard and had jumped back home. “Hey, baby, I'm not going to be able to have dinner with you. I'm on my way to the airport.”

Storm could tell that she was upset. “What happened, why?” Storm was truly interested as well as disappointed they couldn't have dinner. He turned the radio down in his car so he could give Kenya his full, undivided attention. He was really feeling Kenya. There was something special about her that he liked.

“I want to stay but I just got a call. My uncle had an accident and he's the only family I really have.” Kenya was crying on the phone like her sister was doing less than thirty minutes prior.

“Listen, Kenya, I'm sorry to hear that. Have a safe flight and please promise me that you'll call me as soon as you get a chance. I wanna still take you to dinner one day even if I have to fly to Detroit to do it.”

Agreeing to stay in touch, they both hung up the phone.