65
The Next Night
Tony lays back on the bed in the hotel room. He’s so sick that he hasn’t been able to get out of bed all day. He can’t believe they were so close to that three million and it slipped through their hands. At this moment he’s ready to take Storm, Mr. Antonelli’s lover, and Storm, the horse, out back and take them all out of their misery. He blames all the bad luck this weekend on Storm. The race with their horse isn’t the only loss he’s taken. Normally he has so much luck when going to the track betting the horses, but this weekend he’s lost more than fifty grand. He’s won not a single bet.
* * *
In the same hotel on a different floor, victory is in the air. All the girls are happy and satisfied with their earnings, even Wendy. She was able to walk away with forty-five hundred after giving Storm her cut. Making a few dollars for herself helped ease the tension between her and the rest of the girls.
Toy, on the other hand, is not as pleased with herself. With all the wealthy, old men here, she thought this would be one of the biggest weekends of her career. Tonight, for the first time ever, she raked in the least money. To only have earned fifteen hundred during an entire weekend is an embarrassment to her.
She’s never been the lowest on the totem pole and hates how that feels. She was cold and couldn’t seem to warm up. This weekend has her doubting herself. She believes that she may be losing her touch being that she isn’t using her skills as much.
The Spanish women, after working the kinks out, maneuvered well. They navigated through with expertise. With the presence of so many ethnicity groups at this event, they felt at home and not so much of an outcast. The fact that Latin American jockeys dominated the Derby made them feel right at home. Between the four of them, they brought in over fifteen grand.
This was an easy weekend for the girls being that the most of the men they entertained were senior citizen. Because of that not a great deal of sex took place. A few kisses on the cheeks, sitting on laps and heavy conversation was all the old men wanted. For the most part, all most of them wanted was to be listened to as they bragged about themselves and their abundance of riches and success. The ones who wanted to talk about their unhappy, long-term marriages were the easiest to please. All they really wanted was their egos stroked and made to feel appreciated.
Even Beeba did well. Once she wrapped her head around what Storm expected from her she did everything in her power to impress Storm. The last thing she wanted to do was disappoint her idol. And she didn’t. She managed to bring in close to five grand. Not bad for her first night as a working girl.
Storm is the happiest of them all. Overall she had a fifteen thousand dollar weekend. Unlike the rest of the girls who may have selfish plans for the money, Storm has plans of investing. She already knows the exact girl that her money will be spent on. She can’t get back to Esto fast enough. She’s already called Cypress to put the deal together.
* * *
As Tony is checking out at the front desk, he spots Storm walking among her group of girls. This was bad timing. She had no clue she would see him here at this time. He and Storm lock eyes, and when they do, she falls back, allowing them to proceed without her. The look on his face is a dead giveaway to her that he has suspicion. He watches the group of girls as they pass him, wondering what their connection can be.
Mr. Antonelli comes out of the bathroom and walks right over to her. She prays that he didn’t see her with the girls. Her guilt causes her to hug him right in the middle of the floor. As she hugs him, she looks over his shoulder and finds Tony staring at her with disgust.
She realizes that he can possibly be a problem for her. Before Tony came into the picture, she had the old man wrapped around her finger. She has all reason to believe that the distance that is now between her and the old man has everything to do with Tony. It’s obvious to her that he hates her and that makes her question if he will defend her fairly. He’s like double jeopardy to her. Her freedom is in his hands just as her livelihood and that causes all type of thoughts in her head, none of them good.
Tony and Storm stare at each other over the old man’s shoulder with a hatred that freezes the room. If looks could kill. Or can they?
66
Days Later
Storm cruises through Philadelphia on her way to see Beeba. Strangely she finds her way through the city without the need of her GPS. It still boggles her why she’s so familiar with a city that she’s never been in. A little voice in her head tells her exactly where to go.
Her heart races when she rides through certain neighborhoods and she doesn’t know why these blocks haunt her. There are other areas that she drives through that give her an insane rush. One particular abandoned house in North Philadelphia stood out to her.
She was so attracted to the house that she had to pull over and look at it. It wasn’t a beautiful house that demanded attention, either. It was an abandoned shack. She sat there observing the house, wondering what it was that had her captivated. She eventually pulled off but she still couldn’t figure it out.
Storm parks the rental in the peaceful residential area. This area of Philadelphia, West Oak Lane, is so much different from the rest of the city. Until now she never knew that Philly even had a suburban area. She looks over into the passenger’s seat at Breezy and points at the huge one-family house. It’s an older house but well kept.
“This it right here.” She picks her phone up and dials. Beeba picks up on the second ring. “Yeah, we here.” She listens quietly. “All right bet.” She ends the call and lays the phone on the middle console. “Come on.”
Breezy snatches his gun from his waist and slides the safety lever. Mud, in the backseat, tucks his gun into his hoodie pocket and pulls his hood over his head. Storm snatches a Louisville slugger from the backseat. They get out and follow Storm as she leads them through the dark alley that separates the houses.
As they are stepping through the alley they hear a tapping on the second window. They look up and behind the window is Beeba. “She said the windows are nailed shut,” Storm advises. She lifts the bat into the air. “We gone have to break the window.”
Breezy laughs. “Damn! The sucker-ass nigga gotta nail the windows shut to keep his hoe inside?” he whispers.
“Yeah,” Storm replies. “And that’s why I don’t respect his pimping.
“Fuck the bitch right and he won’t have to lock her up like a caged animal. Let me fuck that pretty, long leg motherfucker and I will keep her in check for you.”
“Dick don’t keep no bitch,” Storm replies. “That’s where y’all dumb-ass niggas get it fucked up.”
Storm signals Beeba to back up from the window as she raises the bat.
“Hold up, I got it,” says Mud. He takes the bat and bangs on the glass until it shatters. He then uses the bat to shift the broken glass out of the way. Beeba climbs through the window with the help of Breezy and Storm.
Storm takes notice to Beeba’s face and gets an instant attitude. Both of Beeba’s eyes are swollen shut. Her lips are swollen double the actual size. She feels responsible for the beating, so she feels obligated to repay him. She looks away from Beeba, not able to look at her like this. The beautiful face she knew has been destroyed, for now.
Once Beeba returned home from Kentucky, her lies didn’t add up. Her husband gave her the whooping of a lifetime. Her radical rebellious behavior didn’t start until they met Storm, so his gut feeling told him she must have snuck away to be with her. He beat on her until she admitted it.
He believes that she and Storm are having some type of affair. She went along with it, never confessing what she had really done while away. She felt that was an easier pill to swallow than the truth: She had given herself to strange men for money. Ever since her return, he’s been fighting her every time he thinks of her betrayal. He doesn’t trust her alone, so whenever he has to leave the h
ouse for business, he locks her inside.
Breezy climbs into the window and grabs the bags filled with some of Beeba’s clothes. She packed all she could for her temporary escape. She has no plans of leaving him for good, just long enough for him to feel sorry for what he’s done to her. This escape is rage driven, but it gives her time to do what she really wants to do, and that is to be in the company of Storm and her new friends. Friends are something that her husband has always forbidden. For as long as they’ve been married it’s been just him and her. Now that she has what she considers to be friends, she realizes what she’s been missing all the while.
They all grab a bag or two and start through the alley. Storm looks at Beeba. “You know I can fix all of this for you, right? All you gotta do is give me the word.”
“Fix it how?” she asks naively.
“We can sit out here and wait for him to come home, and when he does, I can make it where he never lays his hands on you again,” Storm says as she lifts her shirt. Beeba sees the gun on her hip and she understands exactly what she’s insinuating.
“No, no. I don’t want anything like that to happen to him. Let’s just go.” She walks away hurriedly. She’s angry with her husband, and yes she’s lost a great deal of respect for him, but she doesn’t want anything to happen to him. Regardless of it all, she still loves him. All that she’s doing now is just an act of rebellion.
They pack the bags into Beeba’s Range Rover, and she climbs into the driver’s seat. Storm slams the door behind her. “Are you sure? You know, the ass whippings not gon’ stop here, don’t you? Let me just fix this shit and move on. We can just make it look like a robbery. No one will ever know.”
For the first time, Beeba sees another side of Storm. The viciousness in her eyes and the rough edge about her makes Beeba slightly nervous. She wonders what she has gotten herself into. But at the same time, it is a turn on that Storm is so ready to do such a thing for her.
All this plays like one of the urban fiction novels that she loves to read. She can’t believe that she’s living it in real life. This newfound excitement in her life is a bit overwhelming at times, but it’s broken the monotony. It’s a rush that she’s never felt, and she loves every second of it.
67
Two Weeks Later
Storm and the old man sit in the salesman’s office inside of the Bentley dealership. He thinks they just happened to pop in here window shopping. He has no clue that all this was calculated. She dragged him along for what he thought was a lunch date, knowing damn well this was her desired destination.
When she got here, it was love at first site when she laid eyes on a black Bentley Continental GTC that was sitting on chromed out twenty-two inch factory wheels. She came in looking for a white one, but the black one snuck in and stole her heart. She feels the black more fits her personality. After taking the car for a test drive, they ended up in the office.
Mr. Antonelli’s nonchalant attitude about it all causes her some real concern. She damn near had to force him in here. His attitude toward her has been different the past few weeks. He barely calls her, and when he does, the only rap he has for her is about her court case. She knows Tony is the blame for his behavior. She’s been noticed the distance between them but was so busy with her own ventures that she hadn’t had the time to address the matter. Besides, the three grand direct deposits have yet to be late, so she disregarded it all.
The salesman looks over the paperwork in front of him and reads from it. “The vehicle plus the rims, plus the luxury tax, we are looking at a buck eighty.”
Storm looks to Mr. Antonelli with her signature puppy dog eyes that she displays when she wants something. He looks back at her with a blank stare that confirms that distance between them. Normally he would be pulling out his checkbook right now. She nudges him under the table. “Babe, I want it,” she whispers while rubbing his leg.
Seeing him shake his head no bothers her, but it’s nothing compared to what comes out of his mouth. “No,” he whispers sternly. He looks away from her, not able to look into her eyes.
“Sir, can you excuse us for a minute, please?” she says to the salesman. She flashes a fake smile, but underneath it she’s livid.
“Of course,” he replies. He gets up and exits.
As soon as the salesman is out of the office, she goes directly at the old man.
“What do you mean no? That’s what I want for my birthday.”
“I’m not buying a hundred and eighty-thousand dollar car. You just got a brand new car a few months ago. Besides, I can’t afford it right now. I’m two million dollars in on bail money. Or have you forgotten?”
She tries to conceal her rage. “How the fuck can I forget when you bring it up in every conversation? I want that car,” she says as she pouts like a child.
He turns away from her, unbothered. Nothing she says seems to penetrate him. For the next five minutes, she begs and does everything in her power except throw a temper tantrum and nothing works. He’s solid in his stance.
The salesman comes back into the office. “So, have we made a decision?”
“Yes,” she replies before the old man does. Mr. Antonelli looks at her shocked at her answer. She ignores the tension that is coming from him. “Let’s work the numbers out.”
“I’m not buying that car,” he whispers.
“You don’t have to. I got it.” The old man is even more shocked now. “How much we need for a down payment?”
“Depends on the credit and what kind of payment expected.”
“We got fifty thousand for the down payment.”
The old man looks at her speechless. The salesman gets to working on his calculator. “With great credit,” he says, looking to Mr. Antonelli. By analyzing the matter he’s sure that Mr. Antonelli is the source of credit. “We are looking at two thousand a month for seven years.”
Mr. Antonelli’s face goes stone as he thinks of a seven-year commitment, not with just the car but with her. He really can’t see that far down the road.
“Good enough,” she says. “We need another five minutes alone.”
Once the man leaves, Mr. Antonelli loses his cool for the first time ever. He stands up enraged. “Where the hell are you getting fifty-thousand from? I’m not putting a dime up for that car.”
“You don’t have to!” She hates that he thinks she needs him and he’s doing her like this. She feels betrayed like she’s been played. All these years of being intimate with his old wrinkled ass and now this, she thinks to herself. “I’m taking that twenty-five thousand cash limit off the credit card you gave me and I got twenty-five thousand to put to it. All I need is your name.”
“My name?”
“Yeah, you heard me. I didn’t stutter. All these years I never told you no, and now you telling me no?” she asks, trying to pull the guilt trip on him. “I want that car for my birthday next week, and I’m getting it! I’m not taking your no for an answer.”
* * *
Hours later, Storm stands behind the Bentley with butterflies floating in her belly as the salesman places the temporary tag in the window. She practically forced the old man to sign his name. He hasn’t said a word to her since he signed. Right now, he stands to the side, face plastered with fury. The steam can be seen coming from his ears.
She admires herself through the reflection in the side window. She’s not sure if she appears thicker through the window or if she’s filled out so nicely. Either case, she likes what she sees. The salesman steps to the side of her and catches her in the act of loving herself. He hands her the keys. “She’s yours.”
“Thank you,” she says with a cool demeanor as if she isn’t the happiest person alive right now.
She gets into the car while the salesman is shaking Mr. Antonelli’s hand. He’s grateful for the hefty commission he’s just made. While they engage in conversation, Stor
m flips the visor down and applies a coat of her shiny and glittering lip gloss. She grips the steering wheel, head tilted to the side. She admires herself through the rearview mirror.
She poses as if the neighborhood paparazzi are snapping pictures at her. She can’t believe she’s not only sitting in her dream car but she owns it. Today is the happiest day of her life. She’s ready to shit on the world.
As the old man is making his way over to the driver’s side of the Bentley, Storm speeds off with rage. She leaves him with a face full of burned rubber smoke and embarrassment.
68
One Week Later
Storm is having the time of her life. A great deal has taken place in less than a month. One thing she learned from watching others in the drug game is that life can change overnight if you happen to land the perfect racket. She’s witnessed dirty dudes land a solid, dope connect and take off right before her eyes. It’s always been somewhat unbelievable to see a person dirt-poor today and ghetto rich the next.
For many years, Storm played the sideline, watching dudes pop off overnight. A solid run changes it all. Although this past year has been a very lucrative year for her she wouldn’t necessarily say it was a run. What has happened for her since she came home from her short couple weeks of incarceration is what she considered a run in the making.
Storm steps out of the front door of her new home. The thirty-two story, high rise apartment building here in Fort Lee, New Jersey, overlooks the Hudson River. Being on the twenty-sixth floor she has the perfect view of New York City. This apartment is a dream of hers and worth every dime of the forty-five hundred a month that she will be paying. It’s still surreal to her.
Less than a week, and she already has the apartment fully furnished. One would think she hired an interior decorator with the way she’s put it together. Her living room looks like a page out of a magazine with pure white tufted love seats which sit on a plush white fur area rug. She’s stolen that idea from Mr. Antonelli himself. The room is decorated with black and white photos of old movie icons. Each corner of the living room is accessorized with tall crystal candle holders. Despite her aggressive demeanor she loves feminine elements in her home. As hardcore as she carries herself, stepping into her apartment, one will know that she’s all woman.
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