Love Trumps Game (7 page)

H
e'd never been a deep sleeper. The slightest movement on the bed made Topps go for the small-caliber gun he had placed under the pillow his head was laying on. His eyes flew open in time to see Kaykay standing in the corner of the room easing back into her clothes. The vision both excited and irritated him.

“Yo', where the hell you think you going?” Topps raised his head up, looking around. Neema was still passed out on the bed from drinking too much wine. The party had turned wild with frenzy and all three had fallen asleep from all the drugs, alcohol and sexual fatigue. It was close to seven and already dark outside. Looked like Miss Kaykay was trying to sneak out on them.

Alarmed, Kaykay swirled around. “Look, I have to leave. I'm already late.”

Topps sniffed. “Is that right? And who said this party is over?”

“Topps, please…I…I…”

“Don't go there, shorty.” Topps hopped up with one fluid movement. With no clothes on he was quite a towering specimen of ripped muscle and hard body. The heady scent of sweat and sex was still on him. “We got more partying.”

“You two have fun. I'm out.” After all the licking, sucking and screwing they'd done, Kaykay was too ashamed to look at his nakedness.

“And what if I'm not ready for you to leave, Miss Kaykay? Did yo' sweet ass forget that I'm calling the shots here?” He put the gun down on the dresser. The idea of repeating a threesome was a turn-on. Normally, Neema wouldn't have gone for it. Hell no. But that's how it goes when her hand is caught in the cookie jar. “This party ain't over yet. You'll leave when I say you can leave.” His growing erection became more evident.

“Look, I did what you wanted. You gave your word. I need to get home.” Fully dressed, Kaykay had her purse and tried to walk away.

“Like I said, I'm calling the shots here.” Topps grabbed her purse. A tug-of-war ensued.

Kaykay screamed, “Get yo' punk-ass hands offa' me!”

The two were in full struggle when Neema sat up, asking what was going on. She got out of bed with the intention of stopping the mayhem before things got out of control. “Topps, let her go! What the hell's wrong with you? Let her go!”

“Nah. Not until I teach you bitches a real lesson for stealing! Nobody steals from Topps and gets away with it. Nobody!”

“She didn't steal shit, it was me. You need to deal with me!” Neema tried to pry his fingers from Kaykay's clothing, but a hard back-hand slap sent her falling to the bed. She watched Kaykay put up a good fight, but she was no match for Topps' male strength. Kaykay clawed into his face, making him madder and more aggressive. He spun her around for a good back-hand slap that sent her thin body flying over to the wooden dresser where the temple of her head caught the dresser's edge with a large thud. Kaykay gave a yelp before she went down hard. Blood oozed from her mouth. “Topps, stoppit! Leave her alone!”

“Bitch, get up!” Topps walked and stood over her. His face felt hot from where she had tried to dig her fingernails deep. He
could kill her ass for trying to mess up his face, but she wasn't moving. He knelt down and felt against her neck for a pulse, held her arm and pressed two fingers at her wrist. “Damn. This bitch ain't breathing.”

“Ohmygawd!” Neema jumped up, ran and knelt down and shook her. “Kay? Ohmygawd, Topps, what have you done?!” She sprinted up for her robe and then the cordless phone at her bedside. She ignored the flashing light indicating that she had messages waiting to be retrieved. Probably her mother called about the kids. “She's hurt bad. We hafta' call somebody.”

Topps snorted. “Yeah, we gonna call somebody alright.”

Neema's shaky fingers dialed 911 but before a voice could pick up, Topps was at her side, snatching the instrument from her hand.

“Are you crazy?” He slammed the receiver back down. “This ain't no damn Hollywood movie.”

“She's unconscious, but if we call somebody, they might be able to save her.”

Topps shook her head for no. His cold, piercing eyes bored into hers. “The paramedics will bring the cops, Neema. We can't have no damn cops stepping up in here.”

“And why not?”

He stood looking like ‘
are you crazy
?' “What you gonna say, Nee, that she stumbled and hit her head? How you gonna explain drugs in her system? Hell, you got product like a muther in yo' living room. You think I'ma sit up here and wait for the pigs to slide up?”

“But…but she might die.” Tears slid down her face.

Topps found his underwear and stepped into them. “It was an accident, Neema. Accidents happen.”

His cold eyes said that there would be no negotiations on the subject. No compromise. No help coming. “Don't worry 'bout
it. I suggest we get in the shower and get this smell off of us. Get some food in us, then I'll have my clean-up crew take care of this. Did she drive herself over here, or did somebody drop her ass off?”

Neema felt too numb to answer. Her hands shook as tears streamed down her face. It was like being in a bad movie and she was one of the main characters, only she didn't know what the script wanted her to do next.

“I said, did she drive her own damn car over here?” When Neema didn't answer fast enough, Topps grabbed her by her hair. “Bitch, I'm 'bout two minutes from whipping yo' ass 'cause this is all yo' damn fault! If you had done what you were supposed to do, we wouldn't be in this mess, now would we?!”

“Ouch, you're hurting me!”

“I asked you a damn question about her car!”

“Yes! She drove her car. A green Jeep. I…I guess it's in front of the building.” She tugged away from him.

“See what happens when you don't take care of business, Nee? You see?” He hissed at her. “Now go get that damn shower water going. I'll make a few calls.”

It was pointless to protest. Shaken, Neema went into the bathroom and turned the water on. She could hear Topps' cell phone ring, could hear him talking. Sounded like he was talking to her mother, who was probably calling again to see when she would be showing up to pick up the kids.
Oh gawd, my poor kids.
She had been doing her own thing and partying so hard the last few days that she'd completely forgotten about picking them up. It probably was for the best. She knew that they were in good hands at her mother's house.

She heard Topps say: “Yeah, Neema. She's been feeling a little sick with a cold. I been looking after her at my place. Yeah. She's better now, in fact, she went to the store, but I can have her call
you when she gets back. How the kids doing? For real? Damn. No problem. She'll definitely be there tonight. You can count on it. Yeah, sure thing.”

Neema came back in the bedroom and stood watching him tell lies to her mother. She made it up in her mind right then, when this was all over things were going to change. She'd go get her children, take the money she'd saved out the bank and move far away where Topps couldn't find her. She had skimmed enough of his money to do it, too. On the real side, it was time to make some serious changes in her life before she didn't have a life left to change. Topps hung up. “Who was that?”

“Yo' moms. She says that Nita got caught stealing in Walmart today, and you need to come pick our kids up.”

“Why didn't she call my cell?”

Topps shrugged. “Beats the hell outta me. Did you give her yo' new number?”

“Not yet.”

“That's why she used one of the kids' phones.”

That was something to muse over. Maybe she had overlooked giving the new number to her mother. “And Brandon?” Hell, who was she fooling? Her mother would have been blowing her cell up after day two if she'd given her the number.

“She said Brandon's been giving her grief. But why wouldn't he. He's just like his old man.” He patted his wide chest. “Strong and fearless. He got a good head on him, too. Always thinking and calculating shit.”

Neema looked down at her friend crumpled along her beige carpet. A few seconds of dizziness tried to claim her, but she fought it off. The truth was out and it wasn't pretty. Her baby daddy was a bona fide, hellified monster and her life could very well be in danger. All she knew was that she wanted out: Out of
the game, out of Topps' life, out of California. “Let me put a sheet over her.” She snatched a sheet from the rumpled bed and laid it over Kaykay's still body.

“Yeah, you do that,” Topps sneered. “Is that water ready for us? I know I'm hungry as a muthafucker. Hope you have some bacon, eggs and grits up in this mutha 'cause I could eat a whole pig myself.” Topps walked to the shower area and stopped and looked at her. “You coming?”

Two hours later, Topps' main man Slick and two other thuggies were in her apartment with drinks, food, an oversized trunk, and some cleaning paraphernalia. The men smoked a blunt, talked trash, laughed, and joked around as they got busy. Blood was cleaned from her carpet. To Neema the scenario was akin to party. All fingerprints were wiped down, and Neema watched, in horror, as they lifted Kaykay's body up and stuffed it down into the large trunk like it was an old brown quilt. For a minute it looked like her legs wouldn't fit.

“No problem,” said the biggest thug on the crew, who took one of Kaykay's legs and folded it over with a bone-breaking crunch, then folded in the other leg like it was no big deal.

“Ohmygawd.” Neema felt lightheaded and had to hold on to the door frame to keep from passing out. She felt so bad for her friend that she didn't know what to do. Thank goodness Kaykay wouldn't be leaving behind some poor orphaned kids, but still, her man would no doubt come looking for her. She wasn't sure if he knew where she lived or not, but Kaykay had been friends with Cheeka who did know where she lived. Cheeka would no doubt lead Kaykay's man to her apartment, and then what? Damn. How could she let herself get mixed up in this madness?

Topps reclined along the bed, watching her. “Yo', Nee, what's up? You don't look so good. Maybe you should lay down and take a nap or somethin'.”

“I don't need a damn nap.” Her stomach was queasy, like the breakfast food she'd eaten an hour earlier was trying to come back up. She moved into her bathroom to splash cold water on her face.

“Stop trippin' over that shit. It's all taken care of. One of my boys will drive her Jeep away and dispose of it. The body is on its way to the furnace. It's all over. Chill out.”

“They gonna burn her up? Ohmygawd.” She felt like throwing up. She turned off the water and took up a towel to pat-dry her face. “It's not over. Kaykay was well liked. I hardly think her friends and family will say, ‘oh well,' and not try to find out what happened to her.”

Topps smirked. “You let me worry 'bout that, Nee.”

The cleaning crew finished up and left. Slick came into the bedroom to announce he was out.

“Man, the guys will call and let me know when the deed is done. So far, everything is flowing. I'll check y'all later.” Slick looked over at Neema with a knowing look. “You gonna be okay, Miss Neema?”

“Hell, yeah,” Topps almost yelled at him. “She's fucking fine. She gonna be even better once we tie the knot, jump the damn broom, whatever you wanna call it. Ain't that right, boo?” Reclined on the bed, Topps was smiling big time.

“Later, man. Gotta go check on a few things.” Slick turned and left.

Topps waved him off. “Damn. Thought they'd never leave.” He got up and walked to where Neema was still standing at the bathroom sink, looking at her troubled reflection. “Looka here, shorty. You still my boo, right?”

She allowed him to turn her around to face him. “Yeah, I'm cool, I…I, mean no, of course not. Nothing's changed. It's just that she was a good friend of mine. Just like you said, this is all
my fault. She'd still be alive if I hadn't called her over here to get high…it's all my…”

“Stop it. We can't fold up behind no…” He paused. He wanted to say “bitch,” but seeing how sensitive she was. “…friend of yours. It was an accident, baby. You know it was, but we have to get beyond this.” He kissed her forehead. “And I meant what I said about us getting hitched. I wanna wife you, if you still want me.” He lifted her face. “Put you in a nice house. A better car, something like a Bentley. You know what I'm saying. You deserve the best. You still want it, right?”

Damn. This fool is like night and day. Hot and cold.
She had to be careful of what she said. This was no ordinary man that she was dealing with. An ordinary man could never let his own mother starve to death while she lay sick in bed. Yeah, she knew about that shit, after hearing Slick spill the truth. A man that could kill his own mother could kill her without a second thought. Playing it safe meant going along with the program. “Baby, you know I still wanna be with you.” She kissed him hard, feeling his manhood swell against her thigh.

“For real, Nee?”

“Hell yeah, for real-real. Let's do this shit.”

Topps looked at her hard and serious. “Okay. This is the plan. You go and pick the kids up from yo' moms, then come back here to start packing up yo' stuff. Tomorrow I'll hire a moving company to haul all your shit to storage.”

“Why my stuff gotta be shit?”

“Yeah, whatever, Nee. You going to a furnished house. Ain't no room for all this stuff you have here, so don't give me a hard time. We can look into a marriage license and all that shit once you and the kids get settled. You still feeling me?” He kissed her forehead as gentle as a mother kissing a baby.

“Hell, don't be so romantic about it.” Neema looked away. Hell, her face was still sore from where he'd slapped her earlier. It was a good thing that fool couldn't read her mind or he'd see the words
I hate your punk ass
scrolling across.