Crushed Ice (7 page)

Read Crushed Ice Online

Authors: Eric Pete

BOOK: Crushed Ice
11.17Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
Chapter 14
Sophia ingratiated herself into the group like she'd known them forever. The amusing part was the quiet wrangling between Penny's boys for a shot at her. Two of them, I thought, were going to come to blows. Penny, after some soft words from Natalia, stepped up and took charge of the situation.
After shutting them down, Penny cleared a seat for Sophia by him and Natalia. No longer on the fringes of the party, they offered her a glass of champagne, and things continued popping as if nothing had occurred. When David Guetta's “Love Is Gone” came on, she and Natalia sprang up, wilding out together on the tiny table, which garnered the attention of everyone in the place. I couldn't tell who was enjoying it more, Sophia or Natalia.
Whatever Sophia had done time for, it was a waste having talent like hers off the street. Watching events unfold, I cursed that I didn't know exactly how to use her. I now had access to Natalia and contemplated having drugs planted and staging a fake bust to give Jason his leverage, but feared something going wrong. With others, it didn't matter. They were all expendable. But part of me felt sorry for Natalia, and maybe something else toward Sophia.
In spite of her thinking I was some dude named Chris, Sophia was too close; close enough to see behind the illusions I wielded. Too close to Collette that she could hurt me if she chose. These days, I refused to be hurt.
With the music not to his liking, Penny decided to bounce. He gave his boys a pound then departed the VIP alone. Having learned some of his habits, I found this odd. His girl Natalia didn't seem to notice, feeling nothing but good vibrations from the bubbly, as she continued to dance up on Sophia. The large brother I remembered from Houston, her assistant or whatever, tried talking her down off the tiny table, but she rejected his pleas. Pissy drunk she was, but nothing blackmail worthy. Despite Penny being no more than a distraction from my real mission, I decided to follow him for a second. Besides, Natalia wasn't going anywhere.
Eyes red from herb and whatnot, the rapper took a deep breath as our elevator descended to the casino level. I looked different from our last encounter, but kept my phone to my ear just in case, engaged in an imaginary conversation with a late night booty call.
“C'mon, just let me come by for a sec. I just wanna talk, s'all. Nah, I ain't been drinkin',”
I cooed to an audience of none. Overhearing my false and pathetic game, he shook his head once, but never looked back. I trailed behind him, watching him as he signed autographs on the casino floor, including one on the enhanced breast of one of the beautiful neon-angel hostesses. He craved the adulation. Impressive how this fearsome man had risen from the gutters of Miami to the boardrooms of New York and into America's hearts. I'd seen Jason do similar things with his artists at On-Phire Records, but not to this degree. Not on this level. Jason would've given up his testicles to have someone like Penny on his roster.
Just as in the club upstairs, Stratus's casino had areas equally designated for its high rollers. In this VIP section, Penny Antnee only had to flash his exclusive Aire Card, transparent except for its magnetic strip, to gain entry beyond the velvet ropes. When I reached the floor manager, I ended my fake conversation, digging through my pockets for my own Aire Card, as if I'd done it a hundred times before.
“Mister . . .
Spielberg
?” he asked, as the full name on my card made him do a double-take.
“Adopted,” I answered as if more than mildly irritated. “Bet you don't give Lenny Kravitz a hard time like this. I get so tired of the anti-Semitic bullshit.”
“No, sir . . . I . . .” the floor manager tried to offer as he saw his career flashing before his eyes. “
Ahem.
My apologies. Enjoy, Mister Spielberg.”
As Elvis Spielberg of the impressive account balance and over-the-top name, I roamed around the various tables with impunity, putting a few thousand down at roulette, so I could observe Penny at a nearby craps table.
Athletes always want to be rappers and vice versa. Both groups think they're invincible. Both groups like to party like rock stars. Both think they're ballers. Athletes like to drop freestyles when they really shouldn't, and rappers like to own teams. Where one group is likely to be hanging, you'll find the other. A lot of overlap, especially in this town.
I say this because tonight was no exception. At least three NBA ballers, a European footballer, and five NFL players were milling about, trying their luck around us. At Penny's table, he was involved in a friendly competition with a wide receiver I'd caught on
Best Damn Sports Show Period
before. Besides trying to see who could drink the most complimentary drinks, they were vying for who could lose the most money, too, dice rolling recklessly the more shit they talked and the more they drank. The neon angels, sensing big tips and maybe a rescue from this place if they played their cards right, hovered nearby with less saintly things on their minds.
I'd seen it all before and quickly grew bored, deciding to leave Penny Antnee and get back on mission. Back at the elevator to take me upstairs to Soar, I passed three men as they exited.
“Excuse me,” I said as I accidentally bumped into one of them.
I boarded as before, fixing my eyes on the numbers and minding my own business when I felt a presence.
The Haitian brother from Penny's entourage. I would come to learn his name. He's who I'd bumped.
Golden pendant on his chain looked like a hairy wolfman from one of those old Lon Chaney Jr. films, although I just couldn't see him as a fan of old black and whites.
He stood there, staring at me. Confused. Like when you see someone you know, but the setting and context is all wrong. Like that person you went to high school with that graduated a year earlier, and you see them years later, but in a different city.
Except I never went to school with his ass—and I didn't ever want to see him again.
Made the mistake of making eye contact.
Caught slipping.
He was opening his mouth to say something when I pushed the button to close the doors. For a second, nothing happened.
“Hold up,” he called out, flashing golden fangs for fronts in his mouth.
I realized the elevator wasn't closing because I'd pushed the wrong button, instead keeping the doors open longer. I quickly corrected that.
“Ay! Hold up, man!” he yelled, not sure what his mind was telling him, yet still getting worked up over it.
I tried remaining calm, but my finger pounded the button like I was trying to break it. I heard his hands slapping against the doors just as they shut. A second faster and he would've been in the elevator with me and I might have had to do something I vowed never to do again.
Rather than continuing up top, I pushed another button to stop on the sixth floor. Before the door opened, I removed my jacket and neck tie in an attempt to change my appearance yet again. When it got to the sixth floor, I pushed a few more random buttons. Bounding into the hallway, I spied the floor was empty. Still, the hotel's security monitors were capturing everything I was doing. I was no fool.
And the adjacent elevator was rising.
I could hear its whirring gears as it approached.
It was him. Had to be.
He'd waited to see what floor mine had stopped on first. Should've stayed on.
Nothing like running down the hall to attract unwanted attention; I began walking away as if looking for my room number, with key card in hand. I didn't dare look back.
The elevator doors opened. Someone stepped off.
I kept walking. Maybe a little faster, but still walking. I rounded the corner as heavy feet roamed behind me. Searching.
From my pocket, I fished out my cell. Not a lot in place tonight to deal with this, I called the only person I could.
“Need a favor,” I muttered.
“I ain't installing no more cameras,” the valet said shrilly, no doubt enjoying a brisk business outside.
“Stop talking and listen,” I said, briefly losing the “Har-lemisms” I'd used for his benefit. I saw a stairwell up ahead. “You seen the dreaded-up Haitian with Penny Antnee?”
“Loup Garou?” he answered. Wasn't expecting Fre-nch out of his mouth.
“What?”
“Loup Garou, the Haitian Werewolf, son,” he repeated. Now I knew what that pendant and those stupid gold fangs were all about. “That's what he calls himself. Penny got his crazy ass as part of his crew. Nigga think he can rap. I just say he crazy. What about him?”
“Call your girl on staff. Need security to stop him. He might be strapped.”
“Word?” he remarked, sounding amused. “You wanna fuck with Penny good, huh? When you need this?”
“Immediately,” I answered as I reached the stairwell and quietly opened the door. I think I'd put some distance between us.
“Man, I'm in the middle of a shift. How about later tonight?”
“Do that shit now,” I urged as I bounded up the stairs two at a time. “He's running around on the sixth floor. If they hurry, they might catch him. Somebody could get hurt.” Wasn't quite sure if it would be him or me if it came to it, but I didn't dare show up on anyone's arrest records.
“Another bonus?”
“Duh,” I replied, hanging up as I walked out onto the eighth floor, merging with a crowd of folk on my way back to the elevators.
One less tense ride up this time, I exited with everyone else at Soar. The place was at capacity now, so I stood in the winding line to patiently wait my turn, in spite of my wristband. As I rested against the wall, I overheard someone commenting on “some rapper dude” being thrown to the floor by security and escorted from the building. It was already showing up on Twitter.
Little solace, as I still didn't have anything on Natalia to use. Strange that while despising Jason, some part of me still hated disappointing him.
A group of partygoers drew attention as they escaped the excitement inside, either done for the night or simply taking the party elsewhere. When I heard Natalia's name being screamed out further up the line, I perked up.
She was leaving—arm in arm with Sophia.
Legs striding as if on someone's runway, the bow on her dress was still there, waiting to be unwrapped.
I made sure Sophia saw me. Holding her newfound friend up as they staggered by, she winked at me. No words; just a look saying,
I got this.
Extraordinary.
I nodded, letting them pass with nary a word on my part.
As the elevator closed with them in it, I knew where they were headed.
And I knew where I needed to be.
Chapter 15
Back at my hotel room, with my laptop powered up, everything was a go. My jacket lay tossed on the back of my chair. Shoes kicked off, I rolled up my sleeves. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as the electronic world before me sprang to life once more. In another life, I probably would've been serving abroad in military intelligence or the CIA. But I wasn't that guy. I came up on a path less traveled. A dark, winding road with hairpin turns and sudden pitfalls rarely seen until it was too late.
The camera installed in the bedroom smoke detector of Natalia's suite still worked. Someone was in the living room, but I couldn't make out the figures.
Nothing was happening in Penny Antnee's suite. Downstairs blowing his wad . . . of another sort, no doubt.
During this lull, I took my phone and downloaded the photo I'd taken of Katelyn McMahon back at Soar. Knowing I wasn't the only one with a camera phone, time was of the essence for such a shot. Once I sent the jpeg on its way, I waited for a response. The recipient replied almost immediately.
That looks like Vegas. I knew you'd be out there!
You said you needed something.
Yeah. But this ain't my normal demographic. And no-singing, no-actin' white girls getting drunk in clubs ain't new. You couldn't get Natalia, or Halle Berry at least?
I'm throwing you a bone. If you don't like, I'm sure TMZ will. Check out what Katelyn's best friend is busy doing with her boyfriend in the background.
OH! SNAP! I missed that.
That's what I'm here for. To illuminate things.
I owe you.
I know. Out.
I went back to monitoring the pair of suites over at Stratus, drinking from my bottle of Voss while I rested my feet atop the desk. Sophia and Natalia finally entered the bedroom, where I could see them better. Knowing for certain where they were, I closed the window to the feed in Penny Antnee's suite and enlarged the screen to Natalia's instead.
Through my cyber looking glass, I peered into a world of silent seduction. Having no audio really sucked. Natalia and Sophia danced around the room, spinning in circles. Natalia was out of her sandals, making her noticeably shorter as she reached up to drape her arms around Sophia's neck. She reminded me of one of those drunken sorority girls, probably slurring her words while professing her undying love for her best friend.
One final spin and Sophia was done. She pried Natalia's hands away as she gently lowered her onto the bed. I remembered viewing a similar scene, but with Natalia dancing before Penny Antnee in nothing but a towel. Now Natalia was the spectator.
And Sophia, the performer.
She said something to Natalia. Made her laugh and gush all bubbly-like. Then she bent over, pressing her lips on Natalia's.
Like she'd done to me.
Was that it? Her way inside both of us, spreading her will like an infection from a simple kiss?
Natalia didn't jerk away or fight the kiss either. She embraced it. Like she'd been waiting . . . and wanting. I rocked back in my seat, smiling at the breakthrough.
When Sophia stood back up, Natalia's face hovered there as if begging for another kiss. Sophia told her something as she began a sensual dance for her entertainment. Slowly and methodically, Sophia wound her body like a corkscrew. Just out of reach of Natalia, Sophia's ass swooped and swayed like something out of a dancehall in Kingston. Natalia was unable to stand, so she sat and tolerated the tease.
When Sophia got too close, Natalia lunged forward. She grasped the back of Sophia's thighs, holding on firmly so as to not fall over. Natalia's hands then snaked their way under the bow at the back of Sophia's dress. Steadying herself, Natalia nuzzled her head under the front. Sophia made a face equal parts joy and surprise as Natalia fished for her sweet spot. I watched Sophia's hands rest atop the mound that was Natalia's head as it bobbed and probed beneath the silk dress I'd bought. As Natalia ate her out, Sophia pulled the working head deeper between her legs. Still in her heels, Sophia's toned legs showed no signs of fatigue as she began winding and grinding again, against Natalia's hunting mouth and tongue, no doubt.
As sweet little Natalia asserted herself, the back of Sophia's dress popped up in view of my camera. Nails dug into Sophia's bare ass cheeks, clawing then releasing them in a sensual massage. No panties on that pretty brown ass. Knew it.
Sophia hiked her dress up completely, providing me an unmistakable view of Natalia's face. I watched her tongue as it disappeared from view within the folds Sophia's hot flesh between gasps for air. Sophia performed as if she knew she was being videoed, gyrating seductively as Natalia continued to lick, probe, and taste her. My dick rose from the spectacle as I imagined Sophia knowing my eyes were focused on her.
And that she wanted to please me even more than Natalia.
She shed her dress, pulling it over her head before throwing it on the floor. As she removed her bra, Natalia paused to marvel at her body. Natalia said something, but I was unable to read her lips. With my swollen dick throbbing even more, I imagined it was something beautiful and poetic. She was a lyricist, after all.
Sophia joined Natalia on the bed, allowing Natalia to slide next to her. Natalia kissed softly over the curve of Sophia's ass then across her thighs and up her stomach as Sophia turned over. Sophia touched herself, stimulating her clit and caressing her breasts as the moment overcame her too. As they rolled across the enlarged bed, Sophia wound up atop Natalia, where she reversed and straddled Natalia's face. Natalia's arms reached around Sophia's thighs, securing her in place, as if on an amusement park ride. Sophia bit her lip as she came. With her face obscured by Sophia's orgasmic sweetness, I watched the singer's legs writhe atop the sheets, as if she were falling, with no end in sight.
Sophia bent over atop Natalia and ripped her dress open, leaving her exposed on a layer of black fabric. Unlike Sophia, Natalia wore a thong. With Natalia still gorging on her, Sophia returned the favor, pulling the black fabric aside and dipping her tongue into Natalia's exposed, smooth pussy. Natalia rocked uncontrollably at Sophia's oral mastery, legs still writhing in that never-ending tumble and cascade of emotions, completing the numeral of the sacred sixty-nine, two folded into one.
As the video feed continued, I sat riveted in my chair, both envious and desperate to imagine the sensations denied me by both distance and digital.
The
U.S. Icon
winner had more to her than the show's producers could've imagined.
Much more.
She was a star.
And Jason had what he wanted.

Other books

Gently Continental by Alan Hunter
Corporate A$$ by Sandi Lynn
Best Kept Secret by Debra Moffitt
Let Love Shine by Collins, Melissa
Love's Courage by Mokopi Shale
French kiss by Aimee Friedman
Maybe by John Locke