Risqué 3

by Perri Forrest

  “Let’s go, ma’am,” one of them said. She snapped her neck to give him the glare of death. “Now…” he emphasized.

  “I can’t apologize enough,” Dina said in a soft, apologetic pitch.

  “It’s cool,” I told her.

  I didn’t know if CiCi was going to be as forgiving; but that wasn’t my issue to deal with.

  When Alyssa was finally forced away from the scene, I set about making my way to the festivities that were being held in my honor.

  “Trev!” I heard called, right as I was about to climb the stairs.

  I turned around to see Lewis walking up. His head shook slowly as he neared. I figured that he had seen part of the shit show.

  “I’m the one should be shaking my head, late ass.”

  “Yeah, so there’s this thing called CP time.” He then burst into laughter. “Nah, my bad, man. Lost track of time, couldn’t decide on a suit or coming casual. Felt like a goddamn woman being indecisive.”

  I laughed. “It’s all good.”

  We gave each other dap.

  “Look at you all dressed the fuck up with everywhere to go,” Lewis complimented. “Nice digs, my guy.”

  “Shit… me?” I smiled at my new friend. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

  “Thanks man. I tried to spiff it up a bit. I’m sure the caliber of woman that’s up in here tonight wouldn’t settle for anything less.”

  “Very true.”

  “What was that that I drove up on?” he asked, as we ascended the stairs. “Shit, I know you told me that you’re good, and to just hang out while I’m here, but maybe I should be earning the money your parents paid. You got some fuckin’ kooks in your life.”

  “It’s cool,” I reassured him.

  The grimace on Lewis’s face said a whole lot. He probably hadn’t expected half of what he’d seen since coming into my life. First, watching the person he was supposed to be guarding, kill somebody. And now, seeing that same person lift a woman off her feet and carry her from a party. Hell, I didn’t even realize how drama-filled my life was, until recently. Shit was exhausting, to say the least.

  “I don’t doubt that you’re cool, Trev. I’ve seen you in action. But, damn. What was her deal?”

  “Fuck if I know, man. I didn’t invite her.”

  “But you knew her, though?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Ha!” Lewis laughed out loud. “I should’ve known that was a dumb-ass question. Which one was she?”

  “She was a girl that I hang out with sometimes. Nothing exclusive.”

  “Does she know that?”

  “Hell yeah, she knows. I never told her it was. I know better than that. I’m never anything but up front with these women. My life is too busy for anything exclusive.”

  “I don’t get that impression. Outside looking in, I think if the right one—”

  “Then you better look again. I got way too much going on.”

  “Okay, Trevor,” he dragged, as though he wasn’t buying what I was selling. “You can say that as many times as you need to, to convince yourself.”

  “You’re crazy, man.”

  “Better crazy than in denial.”

  “Wow! He’s with the insults.”

  “Nah, he’s with the truth. You’re in denial.” Lewis looked over his shoulder, then extended his neck to look behind me. I guess, making sure that the coast was clear. “If Skai wanted to be your woman, I have a feeling, you would let it all go. Her name comes up a lot. And if she’s anything like her grandmother—”

  “You ready for drinks?” I asked, cutting him off. “Because I’m ready for drinks. I haven’t even been inside good yet.”

  “Pssh, we gotta change that,” Lewis said. “I came to fuck shit up. Seeing that it’s my last week in town and all.”

  “Hold up. What do you mean your last week?”

  “I took an assignment in Washington, D.C., that starts next week. It was too good to pass on.”

  “Aww fuck. Liked having you around for drinks, cigars and shootin’ the shits. But I understand. When opportunity knocks…”

  “Thanks, man. The assignment is for three months. So, I’ll circle back sooner than later.”

  “Cool. Well, let’s make the most of it, since you’re on borrowed time, and all that jazz.”

  “I agree. I’m right behind you, my friend.”

  29 | DET. RAYMOND MATHESON

  By the time Detective Raymond Matheson made his entrance to the party, it was already in full swing. It took no time at all to deduce that these people celebrated in style, and that they were a part of Las Vegas’s elite. Mansions, red carpets, fancy cars and beautiful people abounded. He fit right in. Per the invitation, he wore white—just not all-white. His platinum slacks were the exception. His shirt was white, his brim was white, so he figured he had abided just enough to pass.

  The diverse crowd ranged from young adult, to what looked to be people in their mid-forties. What couldn’t be denied was that Trevor Rossi had a wide array of friends in his circle.

  While it proved difficult at first, Matheson managed to find a spot that placed him in a prime position. One where he could watch the party from a vantage point, without having too much outside distraction. Where he could take in the scenery, and enjoy the view, while being spared the pressure of dancing or mingling. Because he came for neither. He was there more as an observer. However, he wasn’t opposed to mixing in a little fun, if the opportunity presented itself.

  He wanted to see how the party people got down. The party scene had disappeared from his rearview some time ago. He couldn’t even remember when he had last attended an event of any kind. He was much more at ease flipping through paperwork and catching criminals in their ill-orchestrated lies. It’s what he gave his life to, ten years earlier. Four of those he spent in Detroit; the last six had been in Sin City.

  Las Vegas afforded Raymond more room to shine. During his employ with LVPD, Raymond had cracked four of his cases—singlehandedly. And as much as he considered himself a proud member of the Boys in Blue, he liked the accolades that went with solving his cases, solo. Sharing had never been his thing; and he felt that teamwork was just a plan devised for the weak to hide behind the strong. Why share credit with someone when he knew that he would be the one putting in the most hours, applying the most mental energy? He ate, slept, and breathed the life.

  Initially, detective Matheson thought to decline Trevor Rossi’s invitation. He knew that invitation came about simply to goad him. He was aware that someone in Trevor’s camp made an arrangement with higher-ups to get him to back off their scented trail. Who else could it be? And if not him, then why extend an invitation?

  Cat and mouse games. Raymond was used to them. Used to people thinking they were smarter than he was. But he wouldn’t be beat. He wouldn’t be ordered around, and neither would he be proven wrong. Not by Trevor Rossi, and not by anyone else.

  As calm and collected as Trevor had tried to be, that split-screen picture that Matheson had shown him, triggered something. Something that looked a lot like fear and familiarity. And the reason that Matheson knew that, was because his bachelor’s degree in Kinesics had taught him. His studies in the field helped him become proficient at human motion. Where his intuition kicked in, his expertise in body language applied the finishing touches.

  Big mistake saying you didn’t know Reggie, Trevor. Big mistake.

  Trevor Rossi had told on himself in several situations.

  And the fact that he not once brought up having an attorney present during questioning, showed his hand—figuratively and literally. He wanted to portray that he had nothing to hide. However, his occasional shifting at the mention of Kameelah Greene, along with the tense uneasiness in his shoulders, and tightened jawline, contradicted the faux confidence.

  Putting that image up on split-screen across his tablet was a strategic move on Matheson’s part. He had thought about it for weeks. But he had to move carefully. Because Trev
or Rossi not only came from money, he had ties to people in high places. Matheson was well aware of how big the loss would be if he moved the wrong way with this. And the last thing he needed was to throw a wrench in his own career.

  After scouring the surrounding areas from his spot, Matheson finally spotted Trevor. He was walking alongside the Terrance Howard lookalike, that his parents had hired. The same person that was supposed to be guarding him twenty-four-seven—but who wasn’t guarding him twenty-four-seven. Why were they hanging out like they were friends? Versus client and private security?

  Could it be because you no longer feel a threat to your life, Trevor? Raymond nodded, as if answering his own question.

  A soft tap on his right shoulder caused Matheson to turn in the direction of the intruder. “Good evening, sir.”

  The tray in her hand had several filled glasses on it. But Raymond wasn’t immediately curious about the drinks. He was busy taking in the thick-boned, chocolate sistah with the curly braids piled high at the top of her head. Oh, how he had always loved a woman with a lot of curves and a nice rack. When she smiled, a scene—one where he was fucking this woman doggystyle, and had a chunk of her hair gripped inside his fist—played out in his mind.

  Matheson cleared his throat and smiled. “Good evening, to you.”

  “Would you care for something to drink?” she asked over the music. “You got options…” she stated suggestively. “Three different bartender’s specials. Or I can get you champagne instead. I wouldn’t want you left out, over in this corner of the world all by yourself… with nothing to loosen you up.”

  “What are the options?” Matheson asked, mirroring her suggestive tone.

  “Got the Londoner, the Great Dane, and the Karina. They’re all equally amazing. All have gin and vermouth, but with really different tastes.”

  “Any have brandy?”

  “Absolutely,” she answered, reaching for a drink and handing it to him. “This one is the Great Dane and it has cherry brandy. Cherry’s always good, right?”

  “I’ll say,” Matheson responded, thoroughly enjoying the flirtation between them.

  “How about I offload these and take a short break to come and keep you company. Would you be okay with that?” she asked. “Or are you waiting for a young lady to join you?”

  Matheson brought his glass to his lips and took a gulp. He nodded his approval. “I think since you brought me such a tasty drink, that it’s only fitting that you come back and join me for another.”

  “Give me a few minutes,” she said. “I’ll be back shortly with a refill for you, and a new one for me.”

  “I’ll be right here,” he reassured her, while watching the subtle sway of her hips, and the bounce of her fat ass, as she walked away.

  Nothing wrong with mixing a little bit of business with pleasure, he thought to himself.

  30 | TREVOR

  Man, the party…

  As the early morning started to creep up, I found myself reflecting, like I had so many times during the night. Cicely McCall was a cut above the rest. When she loved you, she loved you hard. I knew how fortunate I was, to have her love, loyalty, and presence in my life. It was something that I would never take for granted. She had put so much heart and soul into my celebration, that it had me in my emotions. She thought of everything—from my favorite foods, to the music artists that I liked. Even down to the heartfelt speech.

  CiCi came with the ingredients for a mother figure, that I never got to experience. She called me on my shit when it needed to happen. She trusted me enough to confide in and protect. She was present pretty much every step of the way… like now.

  A lot of people might say that I was ungrateful, since I’ve never needed for anything in life. But what I’d have to explain, is that those things were material. Yeah, my parents gave me shit all my life. Money, cars, six-figure education… private security. Whatever I wanted—but not love. To this day, I couldn’t say for sure that they loved me. Have love for me? Of course. But real love that a person gets from their parents? Unconditional love that you feel no matter what? Nah. I would never swear to that. I could never swear to that.

  The only thing close to a reaction that I’d ever received, came from my mother, when she put her hands on the babysitter that she’d caught me laying pipe to. That was it. And shit, whenever I think back on that, it might’ve been more about the fact that she wasn’t getting dick regularly herself. I observed a lot growing up—my parents’ lack of affection towards each other was one of them.

  I’ll leave it at that.

  When CiCi snaked her arm through mine, I snapped away from my inner thoughts. “Look at my son, looking all melancholy. How you feelin’, youngster? After passing the first of many millenniums?”

  “Hey beautiful lady, I thought you left.”

  “Attempted a few times. Something about being that overprotective mama hen. And especially when that little crazy bitch showed up. I was all set to go and check on things in the kitchen with your gourmet chicken, and Thai…” she kidded. “And then came the fiasco. So, needless to say, here I stand.”

  “That was crazy, right?”

  “Tuh, was it ever? You gotta choose your crazy a little better, son.”

  “Oh nah. I didn’t choose her. I think she got the message now, though.”

  “I have a feeling she did.”

  I laughed. “You would’ve made sure if she didn’t.”

  CiCi nodded her head and smiled. “Most definitely. But outside of that foolishness, you good?” she asked affectionately.

  “More than good.” I tightened my arm around hers.

  “I’m so happy to hear that. I know you’ve been having your mind full lately. I hope this worked to alleviate some of that.”

  “It did.” I turned to look at her. “Got you to thank for a big part of that. You’re so important to my life.”

  She pressed her head against my shoulder, then looked up at me and smiled. “And you’re an important part of mine too, Trevor. This birthday was important. You’re here against the odds. That just means to keep going even harder than before.”

  “I plan to…”

  “Good. I have some things I want to talk to you about in the next few days,” she said.

  My brows furrowed in concern. “Is everything okay?”

  “Oh yeah. Everything is fine,” she assured me. “Just life stuff.” She released me and then held my hand in hers, looking around the party. “I’m going to take off now and let you young kids do what you do. I don’t think Skai has been off that dance floor once. Make sure that girl…”

  I looked out at the dance floor, where a tipsy Skai was in her element, dancing to, Cardi B’s ‘Money’. “Without a doubt. Already keepin’ a close eye on her.”

  She rubbed the side of my face. “Such a sweetheart. We love you.”

  “I love you back. And thanks for… all of this, CiCi.”

  When CiCi left my side, I abandoned my post. I had only moved there in the first place, because I had business in the far distance, that I needed to supervise closely. Thankfully, and according to plan, everything was handled. And since that was the case, it was time to enjoy the rest of the party, and also get to where I could keep a closer eye on Skai…

  31 | ALYSSA

  Because of her attitude, her false sense of entitlement, and her constant refusal to own up to anything she did, 32-year-old Alyssa Brown had never been the favorite. It landed her the role of the “tolerated one” in both family and friends’ circles. In short, Alyssa was kept at arm’s length by pretty much everyone. Did she care? Fuck no. She knew that it was due to her knack for “keeping it real,” that most would never be able to handle her. And for her, those weren’t the people she wanted around her anyway. She refused to confirm, just to make the lives of those incompetent people more comfortable. Fuck that.

  Elise, on the other hand, Alyssa’s younger sister, was the golden child. The girl could do no wrong. She could fart directly in
the faces of a full room of folks, and nobody would say the shit stank. Little Miss Perfect. And as much as Alyssa tried, she just couldn’t bring herself to love her sister in the way that one was supposed to love their sibling. Elise’s slice of life’s pie was so much more than what Alyssa had; and to Alyssa, that just wasn’t fair. That’s the way things had gone her entire life. It was psychologically damaging. But did any of them care? They absolutely did not.

  The only reason that fallen family matriarch, Sable “Queen” Long, had included Alyssa in any part of her fortune, was out of guilt. Queen wanted to go to her grave with everyone thinking that she gave a fuck. Alyssa saw the gesture for what it was—fraudulent. And even though it was disingenuous, Alyssa had planned to give it a little bit of effort. That was up until her sister had gotten all high and mighty. Now, she had zero amount of desire to put any energy into Queen Sable’s fucking company.

  With the familial bonds missing, Alyssa was left to seek love in all the wrong places—her entire life. From the dope dealer, to the married businessman, she got in where she could fit in—with no regrets. Attention came easily, and Alyssa welcomed it. They loved the smooth, brown skin, the spunk that aligned well with her short pixie cut, the big brown eyes, and what the men referred to, as her slim-thick frame. And when she smiled, and faint dimples came into view, they fell even harder. She had a way.

  Yet, despite her resemblance to Meagan Good, she got anything but good. Alyssa hated what rejection and deceit did to her confidence and her emotional state. And she thought that doing something different—like dating a white guy—would bring about a different outcome. Too bad the white man she chose, turned out to be no different than the black ones she had been dumb enough to open both her legs, and her heart to.

  Those days were over. No more opening her legs; and now there was an icebox where her heart used to be.

  Trevor’s disrespect was unforgivable, and needed to be confronted. The way he had allowed his granny-pussy to talk shit to her. The way he allowed his granny-pussy to put hands on her! And then get in the way of her fighting back! Hell no! It was a triple violation. Then, the way he carried her out like she was weekend trash. Unacceptable. And Alyssa planned to tell him exactly how she felt.