“We have a gun that matches ballistics on the one used in your attack.”
“So, uhh… you don’t just have a lead? You made an arrest?”
“Not exactly.”
I crossed my leg and rested my arms over the chair’s. “Sooo…?”
“We confiscated the weapon from an apartment occupied by the suspect. But we don’t know the whereabouts of that suspect.”
“Detective, you’re talkin’ in rhymes and riddles. You have a lead. You have a weapon. But you don’t have the suspect?”
“Reginald Clark…”
Whoa! Hearing that dude’s name was like an echo that kept ricocheting through the fucking room. Show. No. Emotion. That’s what I kept saying inside my head. Show not a fucking piece of emotion.
“Okay…” I responded casually.
“Does the name ring any bells for you?”
I shrugged my shoulders, and shook my head. “Nope. Never heard of him,” I lied.
“What about Solo?”
“No, who’s that?” I asked, feigning ignorance.
“Reginald Clark’s street name.”
“Yeah, I never heard of that person. Either person, I mean.”
“He’s a person of interest in a murder. And now, with the discovery of that weapon, he’s now a suspect in the attempt on your life.”
“Oh shit.”
“Needless to say, we’re working to find him, and bring him in. In the meantime, we’re talking to people who know him, and seeing where that leads us.”
“Well, I appreciate all that you guys are doing.”
“Absolutely. It’s what we do. Get these people off the streets. And we pride ourselves on having a high arrest and conviction rate. So, we will bring this full circle. Just one more thing, though.”
I nodded. “What’s that?”
“You identified your assailant as a white male, right?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Is the dude that you’re looking at… not?”
Without directly responding, he repeated, “And you’re sure you don’t know him?”
Once again, I shrugged my shoulders; this time folding my arms across my chest. “Nah. Don’t know Reginald. Don’t know Solo.”
There was a moment of brief silence, before Matheson broke from it. He glanced around the room, and down the hallway that led to the rest of my house. “Didn’t your parents arrange security for you?” He turned to look at me. “Is he off?”
“He… he’s around.”
“Here?”
“No. Not right now.”
“Hmm. Okay,” he responded, nodding his head slowly. “So, umm…” he started while scooting to the edge of the chair. I thought he was preparing to leave. Instead, he pulled a device out of that flat case he brought with him, then swiped left on it. “Can you take a look at this, and tell me if you recognize this person?”
I didn’t get up from my seat right away. My intuition was telling me to ask him if I needed a lawyer. But then there was the part of me that felt like if I said that, he would become suspicious. Especially, since it seemed like he was already in the vicinity. Him asking me where Lewis was, didn’t sit well with me. Him asking me if I was sure that I didn’t know Reggie, didn’t sit right with me either. But my goal was to not show any type of emotion that might give him the ammunition he needed.
I casually made my way toward the device, so that I could get a clear view of what he was showing me. When I was about a yard away, I was able to clearly see the display on the screen. Right then, the annoyance I previously felt, shifted to something totally different—caution.
And when Matheson said, “So, you don’t know Reginald. But what about this guy?” I knew that I was fucked…
10 | MELODY MATHIS
The Ritz-Carlton
Lake Tahoe
MELODY MATHIS, Attorney at Law.
That was the name on the set of double of glass doors inside of a stone building on the east side of Las Vegas. The Mathis law firm was small in terms of numbers, with a staff of just under fifty, but Melody, was one of the most sought-out lawyers in the city. So much so, that she sometimes had to turn clientele away. She knew her limitations, and was always careful not to spread herself too thin.
She knew the business. And she knew the type of attention those on her roster needed. Because of that, she selected carefully, and with purpose. Those in her employ were signed to NDA’s because of the strict bylaws she lived by. Their onboarding was rigorous, and they were harshly vetted. They had to be. They also had to be the best of the best. And they were.
At forty years of age, Melody had twenty years of expertise under her belt. She also had twenty years of secrets under her belt—secrets that she would take to her grave. Melody was passionate about her work. Likewise, she shared that same passion for her client’s work. Thus, felt that they deserved to be free in society to do the work assigned to them. Her belief in their causes, was what made her do whatever it took to get them off… even if it meant that she sometimes had to get someone off.
Not that Melody didn’t love indulging in a man’s prized possession. It was, in fact, a favorite pastime. But what made it even more so, was when the dick she was riding, had a nice face and body attached to it. Not fat, and not sloppy like the arrogant fuck she was presently in the company of. His neck had multiple rolls, and his hairline hadn’t seen so much as a single strand in years. He had the nerve to lick his lips ever so often, as a gesture of ‘sexy’ that his decrepit-ass simply did not possess. Not yesterday, not tomorrow, and for sure not today.
“You’re the most beautiful black woman I’ve ever seen,” he said, after staring her down, like a crazed fan, for minutes on end.
Melody batted her long lashes. “Thank you,” she responded, in the sweetest voice she could find, and a fake smile to go along with it.
“No really,” he insisted. “This isn’t me blowing smoke up your beautiful ass—and it is beautiful. I just love how dark and chocolate your skin is. I can’t wait to taste it. I’ve always wanted to know what chocolate tasted like. So, I thank you for de-virginizing me.”
When he smiled, and his beady blue eyes lit up, Melody wanted to slap him until he forgot what the fuck he was smiling about.
“No thanks needed. I owe you.” Melody picked up the glass of wine that would give her the wherewithal needed to fuck this creature before her. And then after she fucked him, she would fly back home, and summon one of the many beautiful men she often entertained, to get her right. Until then, she married the moment that she was in. “I owe you, big. And I’m a woman of my word. Besides, you were so sweet to fly me out private. And my God… this suite has amazing views of the city. A wonderful welcome.”
“You’re a woman of style and grace. You deserve nothing but the best. I knew that from the moment you stepped into my courtroom. Designer suit. High heels that glorified a pair of beautiful ankles, and that led up to an even more beautiful pair of legs. I almost lost my mind waiting for a clearer peek at your cleavage.”
Melody almost expected drool to fall from his crooked mouth. It was as though he had zoned out while lusting, like an animal in heat.
“Well, you’ll get an up close and personal.” She looked around the large dining area, before asking, “Is there a way I can get another refill on the libation?”
~*~*~
Because Melody was a woman of her word, her presence in the judge’s luxury chambers was to do exactly what they had agreed upon—fuck. Easy enough, right? She’d lay down with this mess of a man, with far too much power, and she would give him the ride of his life before making her exit. She planned to fuck him so well that if ever she needed him again, he would have this night to reflect back on, and give her what she wanted without a second thought.
But looks were known to be deceiving. And people were underestimated all the time. Now, was definitely one of those times; and the judge was definitely one of those people.
When she had first perched atop his face an hour
ago, Melody was thrilled to find out just how long his tongue was. Just how flexible and devious it was. It slithered in and out of her like it was trying to grow new skin. She felt lathered. She felt… dare she say it? Tingles. The treatment that he had bestowed upon her tulip, she had never known. She forgot where she was, and who she was with as he brought her to climax, again and again… and again thrice more.
Whether or not it was the liquor, Melody realized something—she had met her match. It was unexpected pleasure.
He was inside her now. And where ‘ancient’ was what had originally come to mind, it was now the last thing on her mind. Stroke for stroke, this large piece of man who held the lives of many in the palm of his hands, fucked her like a pro. Like sex was his first fucking language. He showed her that he could be in control. He knew how to use his gavel. And it was a nice gavel, too. Not too long, but just thick enough to fill her up without doing too much damage. Now, she knew why he was looking at her the way he was earlier. He knew that he had nothing to worry about. He was fully confident that he would handle business in the most efficient of ways.
“This feels better than I thought it would,” he grunted, while kneeled between Melody’s thighs, where he grinded his hips in slow motion. His thick palms rested on her knees, using them as levers, to open and close her up, at will. “Simply… amazing. How does it feel?” he asked, seeking her approval.
Melody bit down on her lip, then smiling up at him she told the truth… the whole truth, and nothing but the truth… “It’s good…” she purred in a low pitch, meaning every bit of the words she had spoken.
With her wrists loosely bound and secured to the headboard, Melody’s goodies were at the judge’s disposal. Being tied up was never anything she had agreed to in her past—with anybody. At least one of her former conquests had been cussed out, up and all the way down, for the mere suggestion. Her role had always been that of the lead; so, while this was different, Melody found herself enjoying it to the fullest. In the same way, she found that she was impressed with the stamina of this man that she had obviously judged prematurely.
While the judge expertly pounded his gavel, Melody only briefly thought about how all suspicions of Chris’s involvement with Marshall Allen, managed to disappear. How there would be no talk of serving time for something the police only speculated, in the first place. Powerful moves had been made in the background, and as promised, her client was free and clear.
And now that Melody knew there was nothing to worry about, she could fully succumb to the magic of his amazing sex. Her hope was that she’d be untied soon, so that she could spend quality time reciprocating the pleasure that the judge had gifted her with.
Oh yes, Judge Spencer Kragen, was very deserving, and Melody planned to show her appreciation, for many, many hours…
11 | TREVOR
“So, how do you like the ideas I laid out?” CiCi asked, breaking into the shit storm that was going on inside my head. It felt like a slow-crawling nightmare. “Trevor,” she nudged, cupping my chin in her hand and wiggling my face side-to-side. “Come back, come back from wherever you are.”
I swiveled the barstool toward the counter, and returned to the living, and into the moment. “I’m here…” I fibbed. “The ideas are uhh… they’re cool.”
“Okay, so tell me what I just said then. What was the last thing you heard me speak on?”
I pounded an offkey beat on top of the counter’s surface. “Okay, so I’m busted. But I’m here now. What’d you say?”
Suddenly, CiCi abandoned her seat and padded over to the refrigerator, pulling out two bottles of water. When she returned, she slid one bottle over to me and then twisted the cap on hers.
“I’m waiting, Trevor.” Her big brown eyes were on me.
“I already admitted that I didn’t hear what you said.”
“You know I’m not talking about that. What’s going on in your life? Aside from that detective coming to your house.”
“That’s it. Him snooping around.”
“We talked about that already, sweetie. You’re good.”
I shook my head, shifting my bottle of water from hand to hand. “I don’t know about that, CiCi. Seemed like he was onto something. I told you he asked about where Lewis was.”
“So what?”
“He knew that my parents hired private security for me. Private security is always around the client. I told him that Lewis wasn’t there.”
“And you said what you were supposed to. Where Lewis is, is none of his goddamn business. He’s private security. Security that LVPD didn’t hire. Has nothing to do with him. You did right.”
“Okay, so then there’s this: Why else would that dude show me pictures of Reggie and Chris? And not separately. He put them right next to each other.”
“Has he been in contact since that day?”
“No.”
“Right. And he won’t.”
“Shit, we don’t know that. His ass could be somewhere building a case.”
“Impossible. Just trust me.”
“You know I trust you.”
I trusted CiCi. But this guy was different. When I was recovering from being shot, he seemed cool, concerned. Now, something was off. It was his tone and persistence when he showed me those side-by-side images. And now I was sure he popped up unannounced, hoping to catch me off guard. I didn’t give him reason to believe that I was lying about knowing Chris and Reggie, but he still seemed to be suspicious anyway. So, even if he had been ordered to stand down, something told me that he wasn’t about to just let shit go…
“Good to hear. Since you trust me, then trust that the girls handled this one,” she boasted. “We’re good, sweetheart. They’ll go back to looking for a Caucasian suspect. Chris’s dilemma is resolved. I understand that you don’t trust too many, Trevor. And you’re right to tread that way. But I’ve told you time and time again… I got you. I meant that. You’re family to me.”
“You’re my family too, CiCi. I never doubt you. I just got caught up in thinking about possibly losing my freedom over some idiot who couldn’t fight it out, and instead tried to end my life.”
“And he got what he deserved,” CiCi responded.
“Yeah. No regrets. I just don’t want to have to add bodies to my count. But for my freedom… I would.”
CiCi rubbed my shoulder softly. “Look at me, Trevor,” she insisted. I turned to face her. “If it came to that, you wouldn’t have to get your hands dirty. I take care of mine; you’re one of mine. You just focus on living life and growing as old as me.”
“Stop sayin’ that. You’re not old. Don’t believe me, ask Lewis. You got that man’s nose wide open and never even touched him. Wait. You didn’t—”
“No!” she said, laughing, nudging my shoulder before picking up her water and walking to the other side of the island. “You’re so crazy. Why would I do that?”
I started laughing, then drank some more of my water. “He might’ve worn you down when I wasn’t watching.” I shrugged. “I had to ask.”
“Nobody wears me down. Unless I give them permission.”
I extended a salute in her direction. “Copy that.”
“So, you good now?” she asked me. “No more nonsense about this police stuff?”
I trusted CiCi with my life. Matheson hadn’t sniffed around again since his pop-up visit, so I was sure something had been said or done to revoke his access to me. But I just didn’t trust it. To put CiCi at ease, though, I did something I never did—lied to her. “All good.” I threw my hands up in surrender. “I’ll let it go.”
“Sheesh, it took you long enough.” She giggled. “Now, let’s get back to the original topic—your party! I’m thinking a ‘Sexy Scorpio’ theme!”
She was excited, animated, and already in full party-planning mode.
“Uhh… no. That’s cheesy as hell!”
“It is not cheesy. Stop it! What about an all-white party theme?”
“Umm…”
“I guess I never really had a say, huh?”
CiCi began a muffled chuckle, while simultaneously tapping around on her iPad. “Guess not. You probably didn’t even need to be here.” She came back around to the stool, looped her arm through mine and pulled me from my seat. “Now scoot. Stop worrying about things that don’t deserve your energy. That don’t need your energy. And then… go have some fun!”
At the door, I told her, “I love you, lady.”
“I love you more. Now, off I go, to get these party details laid out.”
I left from CiCi’s feeling a little lighter; but not completely. There was still a subtle tap on my shoulder. That tap was what created the decision to invite Matheson to my party. What’s that they say? Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.
And while the detective may not have been an enemy in the traditional way, he was something like it.
12 | TREVOR
Davidoff of Geneva, Cigar Bar
Later that night, I did just what CiCi suggested—got out, to get into some things.
Davidoff’s in South Las Vegas, was one of my favorite spots to hang out. There weren’t too many places that I dressed extra GQ, but this place was one of those where I did because it was more on the upscale side of things. I couldn’t get there and wear my signature go-to get-up: Jeans, T’s, and whatever sneakers went best. I went into the other end of my closet and pulled out a pair of fitted black slacks, then paired them with a striped ice-blue and white button-down, that I left untucked. For shoes, I wore a black leather Greggo lace-up. For ten minutes I went back and forth with whether or not to add a fedora to my outfit. In the end, I opted out, having just had my hair cut.
As usual, Davidoff’s had a crowd; so, it was good that I’d called ahead and reserved my spot. Almost immediately after I sat down, someone approached me from behind, and planted a light peck on my cheek. “Hi there, Trevor, it’s been a minute.”
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