“We get Leah now,” Candy said, applying some Carrot Oil between one of Vanessa's cornrows. “We got plenty of time to get the rest of them. The Father's Day Tournament is next week.”
“Tomorrow's not promised. But if we move when they’re together, we get this over in one shot.”
Catching all of the women at once was the ideal plan. It was a way to reduce risk. Less shootings meant less chances for arrests. It was this rationale that had caused the women to pass over other opportunities.
“Vera and Mimi won't be there, but they'll be at the Father's Day Tournament, so we’ll get ‘em then,” said Candy.
Vanessa knew that Candy would have liked nothing more than to murder everyone on their list as soon as possible. But Candy also had always been calculating. Vanessa was the emotional opposition to Candy's rational thinking. Exacting revenge was going to be well thought-out. Vanessa was coming to terms with that, no matter how anxious she was to hand out justice.
Candy was silent for a moment. “Sometimes I just wonder where we would be had they not kidnapped me?” she said.
Vanessa had the same thoughts. Their drama and being forced to move had changed everything. They had spent most of their time at Rich's upstate cabin, before relocating to Las Vegas to spruce up the boredom that came with the adjustment to a locale unlike the fast pace of New York City. Before that, Rich was a retired drug dealer looking to expand his legal investments. He still maintained his portfolio, but spending less time in New York City slowed his pace. Candy had been managing her hair care product business from a distance. Her input was relegated to instructions to her manager by phone and e-mail along with sporadic trips to the office of the company. As a trio, Rich, Candy and Vanessa had attained semi-celebrity status because of the sex tape going viral online and becoming a common discussion topic for Wendy Williams. Then Vanessa's erotic novel added to their notoriety. But after Chase's murder, Vanessa's love of writing had been replaced with an infatuation with guns and getback. Keeping Vanessa and Candy out of revenge mode was a fulltime job for Rich.
“Them hos messed up everything for us,” Candy declared, as she finished the last braid on Vanessa's head.
The women got dressed. Jeans, sneakers, hoodies and skullies were the apparel—tools of death. Candy rummaged through a duffle bag full of guns taken from Rich's stash at his cabin. Candy chose a 9-mm Glock and Vanessa settled for the .380-caliber Grendell she kept in her clutch. They left the hotel room and hopped in a rented Mazda.
After steering through Long Island, Candy drove through Brooklyn into the DUMBO section. The acronym stood for Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass, so the locale made for an easy getaway over the bridge into Manhattan.
Vanessa observed the well-kept neighborhood populated mostly by white people. The immaculate brownstones and tidy apartment buildings reminded Vanessa of her life as a Greenwich Village resident. There was an artsy feel, welcoming people who cherished creativity and spent time in places like museums and art galleries.
Candy parked the car on a block filled with tall trees, a couple of factories and the commercial space Leah had rented for the baby shower. Several street lights illuminated the area after the sun set. Candy looked at her watch. “Another hour before it officially starts, but she gotta be here early.”
“Domingo said she was setting up in the morning and coming back about a half-hour before it starts.”
Candy nodded. “Her husband is pushing a blue Yukon.”
Vanessa was just reminded that Moses would be with his wife. Vanessa had no problem killing Leah. She had even worked herself up to disregard the fact that they would also be murdering her unborn child. But in the back of her mind there was still a soft spot in her heart for the collateral damage. While killing Leah’s unborn child was unavoidable, Vanessa would let Leah's husband live, if possible. As a vegan who had a respect for the lives of animals that people ate, Vanessa was always having an internal debate over the fact she had become a killer.
“Is that them?” Candy asked anxiously, watching a Yukon steer toward them on the wide two-way street.
“I think so.”
Candy turned on the car. The women pulled down their hats and put on their hoodies. The Yukon parked across the street from Candy and Vanessa, about four cars down.
“That's it,” Vanessa said, rolling down her window as Leah exited the car from the passenger seat into the street.
Candy hit the gas and skidded to a halt beside Leah.
Vanessa reached out of the window and fired the first two shots into Leah's pregnant belly. As she dropped to the ground, Vanessa and Candy hopped out of the car.
“Noooo!” Moses screamed as he ran in the direction of his wife, his eyes locked on her stomach.
Candy fired the Glock, sending a 9-millimeter hollow point through his shoulder. As his torso twisted, Candy and Vanessa fired a barrage of bullets into his chest and back.
Vanessa looked at Leah. The sexy Latina was stretched out next to the tire of the Yukon. She was holding her bloody stomach, crimson fluid leaking between her fingers. Her eyes beamed directly at Vanessa.
Vanessa aimed her gun at Leah and fired three shots in her head.
“Oh shit,” Candy blurted as police sirens sounded in the distance. “Come on.”
They scurried to the Mazda and pulled off. They removed their hoods as they turned the corner. Vanessa kept looking behind them, but there was no sign of police. She was pumped up, adrenaline flowing through her veins. She thought about how she and Candy had gunned down Moses. It was reactionary. A reflex that would have never come into play had Vanessa been the innocent person of years past.
But things were different now. She felt elated, having completed the first part of her plan. Now all we have to do is get the rest of them.
CHAPTER SEVEN
RICH
Rich walked through the car lot of Exclusive Autos in Westchester County, New York. He admired the Lamborghinis, Maybachs, Bugattis and other high-end vehicles. He had driven virtually every model on the premises. That was one of the perks of having a substantial stake in the business. Rich stepped in front of a pearl white Bentley Brookland, thinking back to the night he had wheeled the ride to a black tie affair hosted by Vanessa's publisher. She had sat in front and Candy in back. That was a time when they were a unit, three people of one mind—the good old days.
“Please step away from the car, sir.”
Rich smiled and turned around to where the familiar voice came from. He hugged Free, a squeaky clean pretty boy who worked for Exclusive Autos. Free had introduced Rich to most of the legal connections he had. They were connections that helped wash Rich's dirty money and lay the foundation for his aspirations of legal wealth.
“So, you got the company email, I guess,” Free said. “There has to be a good reason for you to pop up on the premises.”
“I’ve been known to make my rounds on occasion.” Rich smiled.
“Now we both happen to be around when the chips are down.”
“Bad news will definitely do it,” Rich responded, referring to the email indicating the company was downsizing its staff by twenty-five percent. Rich had received the news from his uncle weeks before the email went out, before his elevator catastrophe at the MGM.
Exclusive Autos was suffering due to the bad economy that was affecting other corporations Rich had stock in. Rich's uncle wanted Rich’s help. He needed Rich to use the managerial skills he had cultivated by running a successful drug operation. Rich was always giving him ideas, so his uncle was sure that Rich's presence could benefit the company. But Rich couldn't make time for Exclusive Autos, and he was leery that the company could truly expand with or without his help. He also had little time because he was consumed by drama with Candy and Vanessa. Yet, he needed to make money. The best way he could do that was to find a new place to invest his dough. That mode of thinking and several conversations between Rich and King since they reconnected in Vegas had resulted in a potenti
al business deal between both men.
“Things have been pretty tight around here, to say the least,” Free told Rich. “Everyone's scrambling to save their jobs and there hasn't even been an announcement of exactly who’s being let go.” He put his hand on Rich's shoulder. “Anyway, how's life treating the man with two misses?”
“Could be better, could be worse.”
“You guys kind of fell off the map since you left Harlem. I can't remember the last time I've seen a post from you on Facebook or Twitter. Definitely not a YouTube video.”
“A little space out of the public eye can be a good thing sometimes.” Rich smiled although he knew his retreat from the spotlight along with Candy and Vanessa was hurting them financially. Readers of Vanessa's bestselling novel wanted to see and hear from the woman who had invited them onto her fictional world. Candy's distance from New York City was hindering her ability to run her company in Manhattan. Rich's biggest distraction from making money was Candy and Vanessa's obsession with revenge.
“Did the police ever find out who killed Chase?”
“Not that I know of,” Rich responded. He knew that Free's inquiry was genuine. Free had no ties to the streets, thus no knowledge of the speculation of Rich's guilt circulating through project halls and tenement staircases.
“Chase had issues in terms of that ghetto mentality you managed to overcome. But no man deserves to be murdered.”
“You're always one foot away from death when you're in the Life. That's why I gave it up. Got tired of watching my step all the time.”
“Just thank God you made it out. Unfortunately, Chase didn't.”
Rich and Free walked off and continued talking, but Rich's mind was stuck on Chase. He and Rich had been so close. They had done so much together. He had never anticipated their friendship ending with him killing Chase. That incident was a reflection of just how volatile and unpredictable the streets were. Rich thought of King. I really need to connect with him.
* * *
Rich sat in the passenger seat of King's Mercedes G55 as the customized truck steered down Freedom Parkway in North Eastern, Atlanta. The people lounging in Freedom Park, the ambulances parked in front of Atlanta Medical Center—things had not changed much since Rich's last trip to the city several years earlier. His last journey to Atlanta was to attend a business convention. Now he was there on business again. Rich was destined for Queens Incorporated, the modeling agency King opened several years earlier on Martin Luther King Jr. Drive. King and Rich had been discussing the possibility of Rich investing some money in his company.
Close to three weeks had passed since Candy and Vanessa walked out of Rich's life and he talked to Free at Exclusive Autos. During that time, Rich and King had spent a lot of time together in Las Vegas. Rich was impressed to see that King had totally left the streets behind and had become a successful businessman in the legal world. King was living the life Rich had planned for himself and had struggled to introduce Chase to. The life Candy and Vanessa were preventing him from living.
Rich had also gotten close to Zora while in Vegas. But he still spent a good portion of his time stressed over Candy and Vanessa. Their absence helped him understand just how close they were and how much he depended on them. Rich had disclosed more about himself to them than any person alive. Aside from missing them, he feared what could happen if Candy and Vanessa went through with their plans for revenge. The last time something tragic happened to Candy, Rich found himself in a shootout that resulted in two of Chase's henchmen being murdered and Chase being tortured and murdered. Even with Rich being separated from Candy and Vanessa, he knew that if they were harmed, he could end up concocting a murderous plot not much unlike the one he had tried to prevent them from executing.
King made a left on Peachtree Street not far from Atlanta Underground and Georgia State University. He was soon pulling up in front of the modern building that housed his company. “This is where Young Jeezy and damn near every other rapper and singer in the A comes for their video chicks,” King said.
“Modeling is the new hustle for chicks in the hood. And it's more than videos. You got book covers, magazines, calendars. You name it get `em in it.”
Rich watched a few models that King pointed out as they exited the building. “Guess you gotta be a single man to work here,” Rich said.
“Discipline, brother. Self-control goes a long way.” King turned off the ignition and reached in the back of his truck for his briefcase. “And it will keep Zora from killing you.”
Rich smiled. “I've been killed by women before.”
“She's good people,” King said with a serious tone. “I know that ain't wifey, but don't do her dirty.”
Rich and King stepped out of the Mercedes and entered the building. As they began making their way through the fourth floor, where Queens Incorporated was located, Rich watched as people greeted King with smiles, nods and kind words. The racially diverse contingent of fifty or so employees was so far removed from the streets Rich and King had run together. The fact that within the corporate atmosphere King was the only person sporting jeans and Air Force Ones further demonstrated how far removed from the streets King's staff was.
Rich took in the scenery. Above a row of cubicles to his right was a wall donning magazine covers and calendars showcasing models. Nearby was a collage of enlarged photographs of rappers and celebrities posing with models. The sunlight beamed through the huge windows, bringing life to the enormous space filled with desks, cubicles and entrances to rooms and offices. Everyone seemed happy, darting to and fro with smiles and cups of coffee. I like the vibe. Rich nodded.
As King led Rich past a cluster of employees at the water cooler, Rich noticed Zora's slim figure sauntering toward him in slacks along with a turquoise blouse and matching turquoise Gucci pumps. “Hey, baby.” She kissed Rich and hugged him, before greeting King.
“It used to be a time the boss came first,” King said with a laugh.
Zora smiled at King, then scrolled through her iPad. “I left the Def Jam proposal on your desk. Their rep should be here in twenty minutes, so I had a fresh bouquet of flowers placed in your office. At ten-thirty you're doing lunch with Benny Boom at Justin's. Your afternoon itinerary is on your desk.”
“Did you speak to the lawyer at King magazine?”
“Left him a message as soon as I got in this morning.”
King turned to Rich with a smile. “Most reliable woman I know.”
Zora blushed.
“I gotta meet with my executive team before this Def Jam meeting,” King told Zora. “Show Rich around.” He gave Rich a pound and walked off.
“I missed you,” she told Rich.
“It's only been two days.”
“The first forty-eight is crucial.”
“If you're good, I'll make it up to you.”
“Good girls finish last.”
“That's only possible when there's a competition. Right now, you're the only player in the game.”
Zora smiled, clutching her iPad to her chest. “Look around you, Rich. This is ATL. Women outnumber men ten-to-one and that's doubled when you work in a modeling agency. If there was no competition, King wouldn't need a personal assistant and you and I would've never met in Vegas. So, thank God for competition.”
Rich scanned the area, realizing the truth in Zora's statement. Besides the models prancing around with butts bigger than Nicki Minaj and more designer clothes than Lil' Kim, King's staff was comprised predominantly of equally attractive women in business suits and heels. There was a mirror on nearly every cubicle and office wall. There were no makeup-deprived women flaunting their natural beauty like Vanessa. Every woman, from the Latina in the nearby cubicle to the two Asian women in the conference room, who Rich figured were executives, was primped to perfection. Rich could smell women. The air reminded him of the atmosphere surrounding a Macy's perfume counter.
“Enough looking around. Let me show you around like King instructed.” Zora l
ed Rich throughout the company headquarters, introducing him to people as King's business partner.
Rich watched how women eyed him. He was used to females flocking to him. But he could see Zora was nervous about the competition.
“This is Nia, head of marketing and promotion. Nia, this is Rich, a very close friend and business partner of King.”
Rich smiled and shook the gold-toned woman's hand following Zora's introduction. “It's a pleasure.”
Nia's eyes unabashedly roamed down Rich's tailored linen shirt to the bulge between his legs, then back to his eyes. “The pleasure is mine.”
Lickin' License Part 2: More Sex, More Saga Page 5