The Mike Black Saga Volume 3

by Roy Glenn

  “Well, I was a cashier at Macys too, but I used to be a buyer.”

  “I didn’t know that about you.”

  CeCe looked at me like I was stupid. “There’s a lot that you don’t know about me, Mr. Black.”

  “You’re right.”

  “And I want you to know me. I want you to know that I’m more than just some gold-diggin’ baller’s girlfriend.”

  By the time the waiter brought the check I knew that her real name was Cameisha Collins. She graduated from The University of Bridgeport with a degree in fashion merchandising. She moved to Seattle and worked for Nostrums out of their corporate office as a buyer. She came back to New York when her mother got sick. When she couldn’t find a job as a buyer, she got the job as a cashier at Macys and that’s where she met Cash Money. “You know the rest of the story.”

  I had found out something else about CeCe. I found that I liked her. I’ve always enjoyed the company of women who could hold a conversation, and CeCe was definitely one of those women. She was intelligent without being snotty about it; she was playful, but not silly. CeCe was flirtatious, but not necessarily sexual.

  And she was beautiful to look at.

  “What now?” CeCe asked as we walked out of the restaurant arm in arm. “It’s a little early to go dancing.”

  “I know it wasn’t part of our deal, but if you’d like, I got tickets for Cat on a Hot Tin Roof: the new production of the Tennessee Williams’ classic with an all-black cast.”

  “How did you know I wanted to see that play?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Well, Mr. Black, I would like that very much.”

  “It’s playing at The Broadhurst Theatre on West 44th Street,” I said as Kevon arrived with the car.

  After the play was over we went dancing, and I gotta say, although Cat on a Hot Tin Roof was great, watching CeCe dance was the highlight of the evening.

  It made me want her.

  More than I already did.

  When we got back to her apartment, I walked CeCe to the door. “I had a great time tonight, Mr. Black. The food was excellent, the play was outstanding and you, sir, are a very good dancer.”

  “I just stood near you and tried not to look bad.”

  “So,” CeCe said when we got to her door. “Do you know what it was that I wanted tonight?”

  “Was it something other than dinner and dancing?”

  “Yes.”

  “What was that?”

  “I wanted something most people don’t get. I wanted a second chance.”

  “Second chance at what?”

  “A second chance at making a first impression.” CeCe unlocked the door, but she didn’t open it. “You had the wrong impression of me, Mr. Black. I had to show you that I wasn’t the woman you thought I was. I had to introduce you to the real me.”

  “You didn’t have to go through all that,” I said, but I was glad that she did. I saw CeCe in a completely different light now.

  “Yes, I did. If I didn’t, you would have never gotten to know me. You might have even gotten around to having sex with me. But you would’ve never invited me out for an evening like the one we just had.”

  “I might have.”

  “No you wouldn’t, because you didn’t see me that way. You saw me as a soldier, a pawn on your chessboard. A knight at best, because I get things done for you.”

  “I hate to admit it, but you’re right. Right about a lot of things you’ve said about me.”

  “This is a good thing, at least I hope so anyway.” CeCe opened the door. “Well, goodnight, Mr. Black. I’d invite you in, but I don’t want you to think that I was the type of woman who has sex on the first date.”

  I looked at her like she was stupid, but if that’s the way she wanted to play it, it was all good. I was just glad that I didn’t send Kevon home.

  “Good night, CeCe.”

  CeCe leaned forward, took my hand, and kissed me on the cheek. She leaned back, but she didn’t let go of my hand when I started to walk away.

  Instead, she pulled me back gently and kissed me again, on the lips this time; and began backing her way into her apartment.

  CeCe reached behind her back and attempted to unzip her dress. Since she was still walking backwards, she was having problems, so I pulled her to my chest. CeCe loosened my tie and unbuttoned my shirt. I unzipped her dress and let it fall to the floor. I unhooked her bra and slid it off her shoulders. CeCe kicked out of her shoes and undid my pants.

  When we were naked, CeCe took me by the hand and led me to her room. She lay down in bed next to me and ran my hand across her breasts. I teased them with my tongue, sliding it slowly around her beautiful, dark circles. When CeCe spread her legs, I fingered her clit and CeCe moaned. CeCe kissed me passionately, and I reached out for CeCe and gently moved her body so I could taste her. I ran my tongue along her lips and proceeded to lick her clit. She moaned with pleasure.

  CeCe repositioned herself and got on top of me. I looked on as she lowered herself onto me slowly. While she took me into the wetness between her thighs, CeCe stared into my eyes. “I have wanted this for so long.”

  I lay on my back and watched her move. Each movement was agonizingly slow and deliberate. I felt her body quiver. “Ooooh!” she cried.

  CeCe rolled off of me and I watched her crawl around on the bed. Her ass was perfection. I ran my hands along her back, around her perfect ass then squeezed her firm thighs. I got up on my knees and entered her from behind. I felt the muscles inside her tighten around me. Her pussy was so soft, so wet, and I knew that I was absolutely right about her.

  CeCe was a very dangerous woman.

  One that I should have avoided.

  But that’s a story for another day.

  Chapter 39

  Nine months and twenty-three days later

  Things have been good lately. Much better than I expected actually.

  Martin Marshall won his election as congressman for his district. I used the check that Travis brought back from the Caymans for Martin’s campaign. It paid for a few dirty tricks he said he needed money for, and as the election got closer, I put some money in the street, which boosted voter turnout. Since then, Martin has proven to be a very valuable ally.

  Shortly after J.R. came home to recover from his heart attack, he had a stroke that left him paralyzed on the right side of his body, and his speech badly impaired. With J.R. incapacitated, her brother in jail and Jeff Ritchie dead, Rain turned to Nick. In exchange for my help with her brother’s case, Rain handed Nick J.R.’s gambling operations on a silver platter.

  Wanda recommended that Miles plead not guilty of the murder due to temporary insanity, and he waved his right to a jury trial. The prosecution thought they had a slam-dunk until I got his case heard in front of a sympathetic judge. A judge Martin gave me.

  Under oath, each witness testified that they saw Miles and Jeff Ritchie fighting, and then Miles shot him. Thanks to Nick, none of the witnesses could remember seeing Miles leave and come back with the gun. The judge concluded that Miles, after hearing that Jeff Ritchie had arranged the murder of the mother of his child, that his mental condition at the time of the killing, rendered him unable to determine right from wrong, or that what he was doing was wrong. The Judge ordered clinical treatment until Miles could be certified safe to be released back into the community.

  However, things haven’t gone all that well for DEA agent Pete Vinnelli. Once the article hit the newsstands, he was placed on administrative leave pending investigation. The Justice Department moved very quickly to freeze his assets, including the offshore accounts that were in the name of Eileen McManus.

  After receiving the picture of Vinnelli and Pamela Connote, Eileen McManus went after Vinnelli with a gun. Emptying the clip on him. But since she wasn’t a good shot, she only hit him once in the shoulder. She was arrested for attempted murder and money laundering. In exchange for consideration on the money laundering charge, McManus agreed to testify
against Vinnelli. She pled guilty to aggravated assault and got five years.

  With McManus in place, the DEA fired Vinnelli and he was indicted for money laundering and conspiracy to commit murder. That afternoon, Vinnelli fled the country for Nogales, Mexico.

  Why do they always run to Mexico?

  Nogales is one of many Mexican towns on the border with the United States. If you follow Interstate 19 south of Tucson, Arizona, you’ll end right at the border from Nogales, Arizona to Nogales, Sonora, Mexico.

  Monika and I drove down 19 and took the International Border exit. In no time at all, we saw the signs for parking lots on the American side. “You think the car will be safe here until we get back?” Monika wanted to know. She had become my secret weapon. Monika handles all the little things that Freeze used to do for me and so much more.

  A man assured us that the car and its contents would be safe. We paid the fee and headed toward the border. What I noticed as I approached the border was the absence of armed troops. Across the street, there were a few men in white shirts.

  “U.S. Border Patrol,” Monika said.

  Apparently, it was a busy shopping day with people crossing from Nogales into the U.S. to stock up on supplies. Women with baby strollers were returning back into Mexico with their purchases and joined us at the border turnstiles. Walking into Mexico was simple. No one even asked for our identification.

  No one even eyed us.

  After spending the day in a little dump of a bar, trading shots of tequila with Monika, Vinnelli finally showed up. It was obvious to both of us that he had been drinking heavily.

  “You sure about this?” I asked.

  “You worry too much. I can handle him, now go on and get out of here.”

  “See you later.” I finished my drink and stood. I took a look at our prey and left Monika to do her work. I went back to our dump of a hotel, put my silencer on my gun, got a bottle of tequila, took a seat by the window and waited for Monika to get there.

  It was an hour later when I heard noises in the hallway. I picked up my gun and pointed it at the door. Monika opened the door and in walked Vinnelli.

  “Oh shit,” he said when he saw me sitting there and the gun pointed at him.

  He thought about leaving, but Monika put the gun to his head. “Get in there,” she said and pushed him to the ground.

  Monika closed the door and stood over Vinnelli, putting the silencer on her gun. When she was ready, I got up and walked to the spot where Vinnelli was on his knees with his hands in the air.

  I thought about the monologue that I was gonna say before I killed him, about how foolish it was to fuck with me and shit like that. But now, here at the end, I felt nothing like I thought I would. I felt no anger, no pain, none of the rage that has consumed me since the night I came home and found Cassandra dead.

  I looked at Vinnelli. He was a broken man. I had taken everything from him and turned him into a drunk. I began to feel sorry for him.

  I lowered my gun.

  Monika wasn’t feeling sympathetic. Her first shot was aimed at his dick. “That’s for calling me a nigger bitch and still thinking you were getting some of this pussy.”

  I laughed while Vinnelli screamed.

  Her second shot was aimed at his hand. “That’s for touching me.”

  Vinnelli let out another loud scream and Monika stepped up and put the gun to his head.

  “Any last words?”

  “Finish it,” Vinnelli said quietly and shed a tear.

  Monika stepped back and I raised my gun again.

  Both of us fired.

  “Rest in peace, Cassandra.

  The End Of No More Tears In The End

  The Mike Black Saga Continues In:

  Bury Me Deep