Love Trumps Game (10 page)

I
t was early Monday morning. Neema sat in the Ford Escape at the intersection of Del Amo and Avalon waiting for the traffic light to change. The specially equipped vehicle was one of several owned by Topps. It was used often because of the hidden gas tank where product could be stashed and transported.

Her mind was still clicking. While she was packing items the night before, she'd done a lot of thinking on how she needed a change once this was all over. The heck with what Slick had said about waiting and playing it out. She'd be a fool to stay and marry Topps after what had gone down with her friend, Kaykay. Moving drugs was one thing, but murder was another. It was time to go. Neema felt ready for it. This would be her last delivery. It had to be a special client for Topps to go out of his way and let her use one of his private vehicles. He also had promised her twenty-five thousand in cash once the job was done.

“Piece of cake,” she mumbled. An actress is what she should have been. She could play a part to the hilt. She was always crying broke, but the truth of the matter was that years of putting money aside had accumulated over two hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars in her savings account under another name. Her checking account was nice, but to keep from drawing suspicion she never kept more than a grand in it.

A delicious smile tugged at her lips. It was all money well earned
from transporting, stealing from those that had it, and sleeping with big-money rollers that didn't mind giving it up for that precious commodity all females have. If she needed more money for her escape, she could probably hit Slick up good before she left. Heck, the more she thought about it, Topps kept a safe at his house. A safe full of cash. She didn't have the combination, but from time to time he opened it to either put more cash in or take cash out. She could wait for the right opportunity and then…

“Oh my God, listen to me. I'm just as bad as him.”

Nah. Slick was the best answer if she needed more cash for her escape. With the kind of money he was pulling, a hundred grand was nothing. For a good cause, he would give it to her, too. Getting her kids to a safe place and away from Topps was definitely a good cause. A depressing thought flowed through her. Her mother.

What was she going to do about Hattie? What Slick had told her last night at the motel was probably true. Topps was a madman who didn't care who he hurt to get what he wanted. She had to try one more time to convince her mother to pull up roots and move away. If not out of California, at least to a new location where Topps couldn't find her.

Once the light changed to green, Neema pulled the vehicle over, and undid her seatbelt to reach over to get her cell phone from her tote bag. For a minute, she was alarmed at not seeing her wallet with her driver's license in it. Soon she recalled that she hadn't brought any identification with her. It was Topps' bright idea in case she was pulled over by the police. Just like it had been his brainy idea to burn her natural fingerprints off a few years back. “Yo' Nee, they can't find out who you are if you don't have prints. Can they?”

“His stupid ass.” As far as she was concerned, Topps had a rude
awakening coming. Once this was over, she could pick her kids up from her mother's house, leave all her material possessions behind and hit the highway. See ya! Where they would live, where they would go, and how they would manage, were all minor details.

First she dialed Bianca's number. Bianca was a close friend to Kaykay. The thought of Kaykay saddened her. If she had never invited her friend over for their little coke party, Kaykay would still be alive. Twice a month, Kaykay, Bianca and Bianca's sister, Kimmie, dressed up as sexy as hell and did girl's night out to see who could hook the most big-ballers with money. Any news about Kaykay, Bianca would know.

Act normal,
Neema told herself before Bianca picked her up. “Hey, girl. What's crackin' up yo' way?”

“Going through it right now.”

“What's wrong?” Neema asked, making her voice sound concerned. Bianca's didn't sound right. Her voice sounded thick and nasal—like she'd been crying.

“Our girl is missing,” Bianca relayed over the line.

“Who?” Neema felt bad. She knew damn well who. Still, she had to play if off.

“Kaykay didn't come home last night. Her man Roscoe said when he slid by her crib and waited, she didn't show. We been blazing her cell phone like crazy, but no answer.”

“What? Ohmygawd. Anyone know where she went last?” Neema was fishing for information. If her girl Kaykay had told anyone that she was driving over to her place, it was something that she needed to know.

“Not really,” said Bianca, sniffing. “You know how Kay was sometimes; always doing her thang but secretive about it.”

“Wow. I just talked to her yesterday, too. We talked about hooking up this weekend and hitting a few clubs.”

“Did she mention anything about where she was going, anything like that?”

“Nah,” Neema lied with ease. She was going to hell for sure, but she couldn't tell the truth. “She said something about some nigga she had met a few days ago. She sounded a little excited about hooking up with 'im. But you know that girl; she probably somewhere getting her new freak on but didn't want nobody to know.”

“Yeah. I hope so. Her moms tried calling in a missing persons report, but they talking shit about waiting for so many hours before you can file. Probably “cause she's a black woman. You know how they do.”

“Dang.” It was time to cut it short. The more she talked about Kaykay, the worse she felt. “I'm sure she'll show back up when she's ready. I was calling to see if y'all wanted to hook up this weekend and party, but I can check back.”

“Maybe another time, Miss Nee. Once our girl is home safe, we can do the town and stir it up old time.”

“For sure.” Neema had to keep it as real as possible. “Don't worry, she'll show up.”

“Yeah. Hope you're right, Ma. But I'll holler at you later when I hear something.”

“For sure, Bee. Anyway, I'm out.”

She dialed her mother's number. Hattie picked up on the third ring. “Mama, I need a big favor, and please don't give me a hard time. I need you to go pick the kids up from school early.” She had known there would be some protest. “I have an emergency and I need you to go get them now. Before dismissal time.” Topps would be parked outside the school waiting at dismissal.

Hattie gave her some words of concern about her request.

“Mama, I promise I'll be over to pick them up tonight. Whatever you do, don't wait until two-forty-five dismissal time. Plus,
I need to talk to you again about…well, about you moving from that spot. I hate to tell you this, but you might be in danger staying there. I know, I know, Mama. We'll talk about it when I get the kids tonight.”

Before she hung up, Hattie had insisted on confirming her new cell phone number, Topps' cell phone number, and his house phone number. It would have been comical if Hattie hadn't been so adamant about it.

“You know where their school is, and I always put your name down as an emergency contact, so it shouldn't be a problem to sign them out early. Oh, and one more thing, Mama. Don't give my kids to Topps. We fell out big time, but I'll explain it all when I get there tonight. Thanks, Mama.”

Topps ain't as smart as he thinks.
Neema smiled, putting the Ford in gear and pulling away from the curb. She turned the air conditioner on. It was getting hot in the light-brown velour warm-up suit she had worn. In no time she was waiting at the intersection of Del Amo and Alameda for the Metro train to clear before proceeding. While she waited, she thought about all she needed to get done before she could pack up her kids and leave. Two hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars wasn't exactly rich. But she'd heard that she could actually pay cash for a decent-looking house in Hutto, Texas or another small town for about seventy or eighty thousand. Maybe even buy her mother a house, too. She could get a job, maybe take some classes to better herself. Heck, she might even get back in college. Everything was going to work out just fine once she put some distance between herself and that fool Topps Jackson.

“Let's go, let's go.” The Metro was taking forever. Neema looked around surprised that there wasn't a lot of traffic yet. Compton was not one of her favorite cities, so the sooner she could deliver her load and get back to her own vehicle, the better. Not one car
was to her right or her left. Her glance caught the rearview mirror, a sight that made her stiffen in her seat. From the rear view, she could see a large black truck speeding up to her rear. It didn't look like it was going to stop, but instead, accelerated. The Metro train was in front of her, which left no means for her to get out of the path of the speeding truck. It was obvious that the truck would plow into the back of her vehicle.

“What the hell is he doing?” Neema couldn't take her eyes away from the rear view. The Metro train finally cleared, and the guard rail went up. She made an attempt to floor the accelerator hoping to move her vehicle to the side, but not fast enough. The huge, black Chevrolet Suburban plowed into her at a speed meant for freeway driving. The slam and crunch of metal against metal echoed loud through the early morning air. The compact Ford Escape lurched forward fifty feet into a utility pole, crushing the front of the vehicle. Without her seatbelt on her body was airborne out the shattered windshield. Her head hit the pavement hard on landing.

Neema groaned in pain. “Help me…please.”

Everything on her hurt. Blood was on her face, in her eyes. It felt like she couldn't breathe. As she lay there, she heard voices—Spanish-speaking. Footsteps came over to her, and someone said something in Spanish, then there was the sound of feet running away from her. She didn't have the strength to lift her head, but could hear a vehicle moving past her.

Thoughts in her head felt like they were in water, sloshing around. Nothing made sense. Not even the sound of a voice saying, “Can you still walk? Don't be afraid. I'll get you some help.” Someone was handling her, picking her up. Carrying her. She was light as air. Like a feather moving through the cool morning air. It was the last thing Neema recalled.

O
ne monkey don't stop the show. It was Topps Jackson's personal mantra, and he lived by it. He had an hour before he had to drive to Kinsley Elementary and pick up Brandon and Raynita. That was all the time he needed to give Gina, his second main squeeze, a good joy ride.

Thanks to him, Gina had a bomb place to kick it. Her Baldwin Hills condo was small, but nicely furnished with the best of everything: large plasma televisions; oriental rugs and top-of-the-line Italian furniture. Imported. Not to be confused with cheap imitations. Not one soul knew about the place except for he and Gina, and he planned to keep that way. Plus, it was a hop and skip away from Neema's crib, and ten minutes from his kids' school. He had everything he needed: good sex, a safe place to rest his head, a freezer full of food, and access to any alcohol or drug that he could possibly want. Of course he didn't need anything to cloud his head or get in the way of what he had in mind for Gina.

He'd been knowing Gina for a good six months after scoping her out at a nightclub. Hell, the same one where he'd met Neema. Gina had tried to play that hard-to-get shit in the beginning, but that didn't last. Topps smiled thinking about how money attracted pussy and pussy attracted money. It was all about the “Monussy.” Money was how he had hooked up with Neema, too.

He shook his head thinking about Neema. A spell of disappointment tried to invade him. His girl was playing out and Gina was next in line as her replacement. Neema didn't know it, but the delivery he'd sent her on was more than her last; it was a set-up. Sent her straight into the hands of one of his enemies with poison powder. Instant death. The receiver would take one test snort of the white powder and collapse, then kill Neema for bringing it. The plan was brilliant. Even his righthand man Slick hadn't been told what the plan was. And why should he when he and Neema were screwing behind his back.
Yeah. Niggas thought I didn't know about that, huh?

Payback is a mutha, ain't it
? First Neema, then that nigga Slick later on. They must have thought he was some dumb ass they could fool. The two fucking behind his back was one thing, but even if he had married Neema, it wouldn't have dismissed what she knew about him and that bitch friend of hers, Kaykay. Neema was like most women—the minute she felt scorned, she would no doubt turn on him like a pit bull. Probably even drop a dime. A scorned female was dangerous in his line of business. His father's death had taught him that much. Topps had to think about his safety and his freedom. Only a fool would leave loose ends hanging. Neema was a loose end.

“Stop daydreaming and come and get this good pussy, baby.”

“What?” Topps' mind had been going a mile a minute. He looked up and admired her thickness. Something about a big-legged, big-eyed woman made him feel weak. Gina was his own personal Beyoncé but with shorter hair done in twists. Gina was blessed with a nice ass, too, but not as nice as Neema's. Her breasts were higher and firmer. Plus, she'd had no babies to stretch her pussy out like Neema's.

“You heard me,” Gina half purred in her sexy way. Shower water was still dripping from her high, rounded rear end as she
strolled from the shower into the room to slather some lotion on her honey-brown body.

“Maybe a little dance might help.” Topps only had on a black-and-red smoking jacket. His manhood peeked through the satin as his body reclined on the chaise lounge in the spacious bedroom.

“Anything for my daddy.” Gina moved to her open closet and slid on a pair of red stilettos and threw a red, feather boa around her delicate neck. The feather boa covered both nipples of her “D” cups. “Let me get some music going.”

Topps stroked his swelling manhood as he lay back and watched her glide over to the Bose system to turn it on. “Paradise” by Sade filled the room. “Do yo' thang, girl,” he cheered as Gina's onion ass began to catch the music's rhythm with gyrations. She was the bomb like that. She could move her body in ways that could make a blind man see naughty things. “Yeah, girl, you working that ass.” Topps felt like he was in paradise.

“You craving it?”

“Big time, for real.”

Gina was two years older than Neema, but more limber and agile. Hell, the way Gina could bend and mold herself into shapes and positions was an act that should be in Circus Ole. Topps couldn't take his eyes off the way her head appeared between her own legs.

“Damn, you like rubber, girl.” His mouth watered as he admired the light and dark of Gina's fuzzy feminine mound from behind. She straightened her body and turned to face him as she sat at the bed's edge.

“Yeah, like that. Now do slow motion for me.”

“Like this?” Gina moved slowly along the bed's edge, gyrating her hips. She gave him a wide leg flash of her wet, pink sweetness before putting her shapely legs up in the air.

“That's it, girl. Damn, you so nasty. You got me harder than a
damn coliseum full of jawbreakers.” He could barely control himself, watching Gina lay back on the bed and run that red boa over her swollen clit like she didn't have a shame in the world.

“Looks like you been a bad girl,” Topps said, moving to where she lay, flipping her over. A few open hand slaps to her behind jiggled some flesh. “You one sexy bitch and you know it.” He knelt in front while she rolled onto her back. Her pink pearl was swollen in waiting and calling to him. He flicked his tongue lightly over it, causing Gina to throw her head back with a loud moan. A few more flicks and deep sucking had her begging for more. Topps wasted no time positioning himself over her, giving her every inch of himself. Just like him, Gina liked it hard and rough. Fifteen minutes later, the two collapsed side by side, but not for long. Topps hopped up and headed to the shower.

“I know you ain't leaving me now. We got seconds coming.”

“Maybe later,” he said over his shoulder. “School is almost out. Gotta pick my kids up.”

“Thought they mama did that shit.” Gina reached for a cigarette.

One thing he hated was a woman smoking cigarettes. A blunt was one thing, but nicotine turned him off. Now she was trying to get in his business. “They staying with me for a few days.”

“Who? Yo' baby mama?”

“Yo', my kids, Gina. Stop sweating me.”

Gina knew about Neema, but Neema knew nothing of Gina. Hell, he was a single man who could see who the hell he wanted. Neema wouldn't be around much longer anyway. No need for her to find out either. If his plan went right, Neema was out of the picture. If he didn't care for his kids so much, he would have terminated Neema.

Gina rolled her eyes at him. “Does that mean they mama gonna be at your house, too? 'Cause if it's gonna be like that, maybe I should see other men, too.”

A large bath towel around his waist, Topps left the shower water running and casually walked back over to Gina. Why was it that the beautiful women always tended to be mouthy? It was one of his pet peeves. He walked right up to her and slapped the taste from her mouth, then stood and waited for Gina to say something else he didn't like. She didn't.

“You got somethin' else to say?” He stood there glaring down at her like a crazed mental patient, his eyes cold as death. “Fucking bitch, I didn't think so. You knew the deal when we first hooked up. Maybe you forgot whose money is paying the damn bills around this mutha.”

Stunned, Gina sat there holding her face while he walked back to the bathroom for his shower.

Twenty minutes later, his shiny, black Denali with the tinted windows and twenty-one-inch, kill-me-quick rims was parked across the street from Kinsley Elementary. Topps had five minutes before the school bell sounded, and kids would be all over the place on the lookout for parents and babysitters. Most adults were stupid and too lazy to walk their big fat asses to pick up their kids. People like that made him sick.

A toothpick dangled in his mouth. Topps gave a good look around making sure no friend or foe was trying to slide up on him. Catch him off guard. Everything looked calm. Once the bell rang, he'd get out and cross over to keep Raynita and Brandon from crossing the street to get to his vehicle. But for now he sat listening to Akon's upbeat tune “Trouble Nobody.”

The school bell rang. Kids running around. Kids playing. Kids yelling back and forth. Kids were everywhere. Topps got out and crossed to the front of the school where he waited like the rest of the group for teachers to walk their classes out in an orderly manner. No sign of Raynita or Brandon. He walked around looking. Still, no sign. Cars came and went. Students moved on
from the right and left of him. He felt antsy with each passing second.
What the hell is taking 'em so long?

Maybe they got in some trouble
. He walked to the school's front office where he asked one of the clerks if any kids were waiting in the office. Nope. None.

He took out his cell phone and dialed Brandon's cell number. Good thing he had the foresight to give both kids their own cell phone. Both phones were sophisticated GPS tracking devices, but that was something only he and Slick knew about. It took quite a few rings before Brandon's voice answered.

“Brandon, yo', what's up? I'm at the school waiting on you and yo' sister.”

Topps' hand clutched the cell tight enough to break it into pieces. He didn't like what he was hearing as Brandon informed him that Hattie had picked them up early.

“But I told y'all asses that I would pick you up. Whose damn idea was that?” He felt stupid getting upset with a seven-year-old. “Fuck it. Don't worry about it. I'm on my way to pick you and yo' sister up. Be ready.”