RedBone (50 page)

Rhonda danced a little in place. “I can’t believe you even came out tonight. I figured I’d have to celebrate me getting a new house in Maryland with somebody else.”

Farah looked at her and rolled her eyes. “You talking about Coconut and the rest of them dry-ass bitches ain’t you?” She laughed. “You did the right thing by calling me. We both know right now the only people Coconut cares about is Shannon and herself. Plus since Randy out of town, I had to help you celebrate the move. I don’t blame you for leaving! Get out of DC while you still can.” She accepted her drink from the bartender.

“Let’s put on a show,” Rhonda said, grabbing Farah’s hand.

Farah and Rhonda did the “Calling All Dicks” dance, by rotating their hips and rubbing on each other like a couple of Rick James freaks. They were acting loose and ready to fuck, as they ground against one another like it was going out of style. It was foolery at its finest, and in no way appealing. When Farah tried to wiggle her ass in front of Rhonda, she told her to stop for many reasons. First, her belly was in the way, and secondly, Farah couldn’t move her body to save her life. Her fuck game was off, and it was being exposed on the dance floor.

“You stand over there against the bar, and I’ll dance. Rhonda laughed.

It was fine with Farah, because she loved being a spectator anyway. Leaning on the bar, sipping her drink , she watched Rhonda work the floor as if she were a stripper on a pole. How could she be so sexy, and pregnant at the same time? When a few men waved, trying to get Farah’s attention, she blushed and enjoyed the moment. The liquor had Farah feeling seductive and beautiful. They were having a good time, until four guys strolled into the club looking like new money. They were wearing expensive jeans, and designer shirts, and they resembled movie stars. When she saw who was leading the quartet, she wanted to rush up to him and beg him back. Wearing a brown button-down shirt, blue jeans, and a pair of Louis Vuitton shoes, she knew her man when she saw him. Now she felt foolish for speaking to him in a foul way. It was time to apologize, until she saw who was on his arm.

“Rhonda, come over here,” she said, pulling her off the floor.

“Stop, I’m feeling good.” She snatched her hand away.

“You gonna fuck around and have that baby early. Now get over here, and look over there.” She pointed at him. “That’s Slade.”

“You lying! That nigga so fucking sexy!”

Farah couldn’t move her mouth to respond. Sure she disrespected him, but as far as she was concerned, he should be home waiting for her call. She took for granted that he was trying to find his brother, and never imagined him being in the club with someone else. Slade didn’t see her as he bent down and whispered into Shannon’s ear. But Shannon spotted Farah. She grinned and planted a kiss directly on his lips.

“Shannon going hard now,” Rhonda said, shaking her head. “See girl, you should go on ’head and leave him alone. Any nigga that fine gonna be trouble anyway.” Farah felt tears forming, but she refused to let him see her cry. If they wanted to be together, they could go stuff shit in each other’s asses for all she gave a fuck.

Farah was just about to suggest they leave the club when Juice walked up to her, and blocked her view of Slade. “Farrah Fawcett,” he said, smiling. He was so sexy that for a second she forgot all about the man she loved. “You got away from me last time, but I’m not gonna let that happen again.” Farah looked to her left and saw Rhonda was already keeping time with his friend, DeWayne. “What you sipping on?”

Afraid Randy sent him she said, “Are you here because of Randy?”

Juice frowned. “After what that nigga did back at the shop,” he said, “I don’t say more to that nigga than I have to. So stop asking if I’m coming for him when I pull up on you. I represent myself.” He smiled. “Now ... what you drinking?”

She grinned, loving his style. If she was going to use somebody to make Slade jealous, Juice was the perfect candidate. “An apple martini.”

He ordered her another, along with a double shot of Patrón for himself. “So what’s up? You gonna make me go through hell to get your number this time? I’m sick of seeing you only when you’re around that dude.”

“You gonna use it?” Farah looked around him to see if Slade was watching ... he wasn’t. Instead he pulled Shannon into his body and kicked it with his brothers, who also had dates, and she was devastated. She wondered if he was trying to make her jealous.
Who brings bitches to the club? They ain’t nothing but some country-ass niggas.

“Listen, I been trying to get at you for a minute.” Juice interrupted her thoughts. “If I get your number, I’m damn sure gonna use it.” He handed her his phone. “So put it in there.”

When she finished programming her digits, she saw Slade and his crew walking to the bar. Focusing on Juice she started laughing in his face for no reason, as if he were Kevin Hart. She was trying her best to appear enthralled by Juice’s presence, so that she wouldn’t have to suffer the agony of Slade being with another woman. Once at the bar, Slade put his hand on the small of Shannon’s back and said, “What you want?”

“An apple martini,” she said, looking at Farah’s drink.

Slade followed her eye contact and saw Farah for the first time, “What’s up, Farah?” Then he nodded at Juice as if they were homies. And like he didn’t care, he focused back on Shannon, and didn’t speak to her anymore.

“You coming to my shower, right?” Rhonda asked Shannon.

She looked at Farah and grinned slyly. “I’m still invited?”

Rhonda looked at Farah and said, “Girl, she don’t care nothing about what you do.” Rhonda looked at Slade and back at her. She was being greedy as shit for baby gifts. She knew Farah didn’t want that bitch anywhere near her house. “Farah got her own business over there.”

Farah knew if she opened her mouth, her words would be broken so she nodded. “Well ... I guess I’ll see you there.” When their drinks came, they walked away and Slade never looked back.

Farah knew Juice wanted to fuck, because he suggested they leave early, when all she wanted to do was cry. As he maneuvered down the streets of DC, the vision of Slade acting like she wasn’t in the building trapped her mind. She mentally bashed herself with the realization that had she taken back her comment, he would be in her room, and in her bed.

Rhonda was laughing it up in the back seat with Juice’s friend, who happened to have a fetish for pregnant pussy. “Y’all wanna grab something to eat?” Juice asked, placing his hand on her knee. His eyes alternated from her to the road. “Farrah Fawcett ... you heard me?”

She looked at him and with an attitude said, “Please stop calling me that shit! I already told you that’s not my name!”

Juice’s friend and Rhonda wondered what caused her to be so snappy all of a sudden. Fifteen minutes ago you would’ve thought Juice was on stage at the Apollo, the way she was laughing it up in his face. “My bad. I won’t call you that shit again. So ... you hungry?” Juice asked, removing his hand to focus on the road.

“Yeah. I guess.” She shrugged.

“What you in the mood for?”

When Farah faced him, from the driver’s side window she saw somebody jump out of the passenger seat of another car, and aim a gun in their direction. The bullet shattered the glass and hit Juice in the neck.

Rhonda screamed to the top of her lungs, and bent over to protect her belly. “Don’t hurt my baby! Don’t hurt my baby!”

“Oh, my God!” Farah screamed.

Juice’s man grabbed his weapon from his waist, rolled his window down, and started busting at the shooter. Gunfire flew from every direction, and she had no doubt that she was going to get hit. Juice, barely alive, pressed his hand on his neck as blood oozed through his fingers. He pressed the gas, and did his best to drive wildly away from the scene. When his eyes closed, and his hands dropped, the truck rolled into an active construction site a few feet ahead. Some of the workers tried to move out of the way but unfortunately one of them didn’t make it. Pinned underneath Juice’s truck Farah could hear the man beg for his life.

Thinking the shooter was coming back to finish her off, Farah hopped out of the truck and opened Rhonda’s car door. She was in the backseat, stuck and motionless. Bloodstains were splattered on her face, and her eyes were wild and bugged out. Randy wasn’t playing, and she knew it was just a matter of time before he finished what he started.

“Let’s go, Rhonda! Now!”

Chapter 60

“Tonight you just saved a whole lot of lives.”

—Beverly Glasser

Beverly Glasser walked into the police department with hate gripping her heart. Her coat was open, revealing her light blue housekeeping uniform, with a gold name badge that protruded from her right breast as if it were being seen in 3D. She had a gun in her brown leather purse, and was fully prepared to shoot at least twenty cops in the name of love. She was devastated that her only son, Amico, had not been found, and that the police department seemed uninterested with her case. She slogged up to the white officer behind the counter.

“Good evening, ma’am, how may I help you?” He smiled.

Beverly was trembling so hard she could barely speak. Sweat poured off her forehead and into her eyes, making it difficult to see. She never committed the smallest crime, yet she was fully prepared to commit the ultimate offense known to man. She wiped the sweat from her face, reached into her purse, and placed her hand on her weapon.

“Ma’am ... are you okay?” the officer asked sincerely. He came from around the counter, and it was apparent that he was one of the good guys. Unfortunately for him, the uniform he wore put him on the wrong side. “You don’t look so well. Do you need a doctor or something?”

She was just about to shoot him when Nadia Gibson approached the two. “Mrs. Glasser?”

Beverly turned around with her hand still on the gun inside her purse, and faced the officer. “Yes.”

Nadia smiled, but it dissipated when she noticed the way her hand seemed to be stuffed inside her purse with a purpose. “This is so uncanny.” She looked at her hand again. “My name is Nadia Gibson, and I was just about to call you.” She looked at the officer. “I got it from here, Daniels.” He smiled, touched Beverly on the back, and walked away.

When they were alone she said, “You were gonna call me for what?”

“Because I’ve just been assigned to your case. I’m so sorry to hear about your son, Amico, but you need to know that he’s my number one priority. Not to mention, I think I may know who is involved with his disappearance. They gave one name, but I’m pretty sure it’s another person.” Beverly’s hand remained firm inside her bag. “It may be hard to prove at first, but I’m gonna give this everything I have.” She smiled. “The funny thing is, I met the person I believe is responsible some time back.” She was being presumptuous and unprofessional, but she didn’t care. She was sure Farah was involved, and all she had to do was prove it.

“How? They told me they didn’t have any information on his case. I’m not even sure how you knew it was me.”

“I came to talk to you at work today, but they said you quit.” Beverly’s head fell in shame because she’d been at that job for fifteen years. “They also said that you indicated that you would be going away for a long time.” She looked at her hand in her purse again. “Your picture was on the wall for outstanding customer service, for every month this year. She smiled. “Your supervisor said he was going to offer you a promotion next month and everything. So I hope you reconsider leaving.”

“This whole thing has been killing me. I love my daughter, I truly do, but there’s something about a mother’s love for her son that just goes deeper.”

“I understand, but I think we can solve this case. I interviewed a few people and, I’m sad to say, I almost rented a room from the person I believe is the culprit, in Platinum Loft apartments. If I had taken the room, I might not be talking to you right now. Who knows how crazy this chick is.”

Beverly looked her over, and made a quick assessment of her character. She was trying to determine if she could trust her, or if she should pull her weapon and finish what she came to do. After a few seconds, Nadia’s eyes told her she had a motive, but she was willing to accept her help even if she did. In her opinion, motivation was the best way to win a war.

Removing her hand from her weapon, and from her purse, she pulled the zipper to close it and smiled. “You’re an angel, Nadia Gibson. Because tonight you just saved a whole lot of lives.”

Chapter 61

“Whenever we talk, I need to make sure it s in person, especially now.”

—Knox

Knox was looking at the Platinum Loft apartments from across the street. He’d just stepped out of a cab, but couldn’t enter the building right away. Getting out of a Benz was the girl who haunted his dreams for the longest time. Trotting across the street, he made it into the building and into the elevator to be with her before the doors shut. The left side of her body was covered in blood spots, and she appeared distraught. He wondered what held her mind and what she just went through. It took everything in his power not to harm her, but he mastered the art of self-control a long time ago. Everything had to be done in the right time.