The Dirty Red Series

by Vickie M. Stringer

  Triple Crown signed Bacon that July and planned to release the book, Bitch Nigga, Snitch Nigga, in late fall. The cover design was completed and the alias “Lisa Lennox” was listed all over websites and in magazine ads. Triple Crown’s fan base was going wild for the book, so the publisher decided to release it early. The streets around the hood were going wild over the title.

  While Bacon was thrilled that his book was being released, he still hadn’t gotten over the fact that Red signed the contract.

  “Look, I did what I had to do. They don’t do deals with niggas in jail,” she had said.

  Bacon planned to handle his issues. Like he had told her. See me when they free me. He meant that the first chance he got.

  CHAPTER 17

  Every Good-bye Ain’t Gone

  Red stepped off the elevator and walked through the chocolate-stained door of the loft, late as usual.

  Wide-eyed like a child, she smiled as she took in the work of the Roche-Bobois designer; the furniture order had arrived bright and early that Monday morning. She took in Q’s relieved expression and felt a little guilty that she had managed to make money off him by selling him the loft.

  “What do you think?” Q asked.

  “I love it,” Red replied.

  Q guided Red upstairs to the bedrooms and stopped in front of the smaller of the two. The room was painted in warm yellows and browns, with hints of cool blues. The alphabet was stenciled on cornice boards around the windows.

  “This nursery is for our next child,” Q whispered.

  Red could not believe her eyes. This man was giving her a woman’s dream. Q took her into his arms and began to rub Red’s stomach. His embrace overwhelmed her. Red noticed that at times when she should have had her game face on, her pregnancy made everything seem personal. Q loving her, holding her down as he was, it was sometimes too much for her to bear.

  “Let’s go,” Q demanded, pulling her hand and heading for the door.

  “Where are we going?” Red asked, still overwhelmed by the reality of her surroundings.

  “They gon’ be in there for the rest of the week. I want us to get away. I got someone I want you to meet.”

  Q and Red drove east on I-94 headed away from the city. Q took the Gross Pointe exit, driving past the water, up Jefferson Avenue. Red took in the scenery and Q hummed the words to an Usher song on the radio, all the while tapping his hand on top of Red’s. He seems so happy, she thought.

  “Where we going?” Red asked again.

  “It’s a surprise.”

  As Q drove the houses became farther and farther apart. The community seemed serene. Arriving at a small apartment complex, he parked the car in the second space available.

  They walked to the door of a townhouse that had the smell of barbeque smoke.

  “Quentin!” the lady opening the door screamed. She threw her arms out wide and gave him a big embrace. She stared at Red, but didn’t say anything. She was waiting for a formal introduction. The woman led them to her living room, where the furniture was covered in plastic. The place was cramped but it was very homey.

  “Mom, I want to introduce you to my future wife,” Q announced before turning to Red. “Red, this is my mother, Patricia Carter.”

  Suddenly Red remembered that she didn’t have her engagement ring on. She had taken it off and put it in her closet to hide it from her roommates. Q’s mother looked down at her finger and so did Q. It was then that he noticed her bare finger. He played it off, though. He smiled and said, “Did you change your mind?”

  “No. It’s a little too large and I didn’t want to lose it,” Red half-truthfully explained. “It’s in my room.”

  Red knew his mother was giving her the once-over. Red knew to play coy and so she did.

  “What’s your real name?” his mother asked.

  “My real name is Raven Gomez.”

  “Like the bird?”

  “Yes, like the bird.”

  “Okay, ladies, let’s relax. Go back to your corners,” Q joked, trying awkwardly to break the ice. Q had once again proven how special she was. Meeting his mother was a big thing for him.

  • • •

  Red waited nervously in the car as she watched Q walk into the Shrine of the Black Madonna to purchase a copy of Bitch Nigga, Snitch Nigga. Triple Crown was sending Red a case of “her” books, but it hadn’t arrived yet. Red was a little nervous that it had hit the street before she had a chance to really see it.

  As she was waiting Q’s cell phone rang. Curiosity made her pick up the phone and look at the incoming caller ID number. The caller was Zeke. Red knew that nigga hated her for gankin’ his dough. She thought that she had seen the last of him. Who could have imagined that her man’s best friend would be a former victim. Red decided to answer the call to see what was on his mind.

  “Hello.”

  “Speak to Q,” Zeke demanded.

  “Hey, Zeke, he not here right now,” Red replied.

  “Bitch, what you doing answering his cell.”

  “Zeke, can we start over? I mean, there is no reason for you to get nasty. I make Q happy.”

  “Ho, I’m not gon’ let you rob him blind like you did me.”

  Men always think with their emotions. What can I do? Think . . . think . . . “Zeke, let me make this right. Is there any way I can say I’m sorry by paying you back the money you lost? I’m not admitting anything, I just don’t want five thousand to stand in between me, you and Q.”

  Zeke began to think that he could possibly get his money back, and get some dirt on Red at the same time.

  “I know how you feel and I want to make it right,” Red coyly said.

  “Yeah, when and where.”

  “Give me a couple weeks to get the money together. I’ll call you then. ’Kay?” Red meekly asked.

  “Tell Q I called and I’ll get with you later.”

  After Zeke hung up Red began think of how to silence him, for good. There was no way she was letting anyone mess up what she had with Q. He was worth fighting for. Worth doing anything for.

  Q came back to the car cursing.

  “Can you believe they sold out?” Q looked perplexed. “I gotta get this book.” He busted a U-turn in the middle of the street and headed to another bookstore.

  “Damn, it must be good. What’s it about?” Red asked, playing naïve.

  “Do you remember that murder at the nightclub Reason Why?”

  “I remember the club but not the murder.”

  “Your girl’s man, Catfish, used to own that club or so they say. And he was with your dude Bacon. The rumor is Catfish, Bacon and his woman was up in the club. Some shit jumped off over a drug deal gone bad and they say Catfish had this nigga, Scooney, shot in the middle of the dance floor while he was dancing with Catfish’s woman who was a decoy. It was a setup and it’s supposed to be depicted in this book.

  “That’s why it’s called Bitch Nigga, Snitch Nigga. The person who did the hit was the drug dealer’s enforcer, and he, the guy, told on his enforcer. That’s why I want to read it ’cause it could only have been written by one of two people, the shooter or the girl.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  “Yeah, and that ain’t all. It got all types of shit in it. It tells about every single person who ever snitched but thought they was on the low. It’s a hood tell-all book. It already got shit going.”

  Red listened with great interest as she heard the effects of the book on the street. Still, she wasn’t worried. She was more thrilled with the number of book sales than anything. Red wanted to call Triple Crown and get in their shit about the release date. They hadn’t given her any heads-up that the book was coming out early. But still, pay me, she thought.

  Q stopped in front of Northland Mall and jogged inside to Truth Book Store. He returned to the car, out of breath, and tossed one of two copies into Red’s lap. The other he snatched open and began to scan.

  “I want to see who this whore acknowledged.” He read
aloud:

  Shouts out to the Chamber Brothers, Y.B.I.s, Best Friends Organization, East Side BK’s, White Boy Rick, and the Earl Flynns. To all the Bitch Niggas, Snitch Niggas in these organizations, it is because of your mouths that we didn’t survive.

  Q gripped that book and became obsessed with reading it. “Trust me, when I finish this book, I will tell you who wrote it.”

  Q was more involved than he let on. Scooney was his uncle—he never told anyone that. He also knew the leaders of each of these organizations, and he wanted the truth about his uncle’s murder. And Bitch Nigga, Snitch Nigga was gonna give it to him.

  Q anxiously dropped Red off in her driveway and sped off.

  “Damn nigga played me for a book,” she cursed out loud. Book must be good, she thought.

  Red hadn’t taken the time to read the entire manuscript, but she knew anything Bacon had to say was worth listening to. She clutched her copy of the book and pushed the remote keypad on the side of the garage. Slowly, the door rose and she walked through to her side door. She could smell food being cooked and the sound of light chatter.

  Mekel and Kera were sitting in the kitchen, enjoying each other’s company.

  “Awww . . . look at Mommy and Daddy,” Red said in a mocking tone.

  “Hey, Red. How’s it hangin’?” Mekel asked.

  “Just fine, nigga,” Red replied.

  “Oh Red, you got a message to call someone named Blue.” Kera’s words made Red’s knees get weak.

  “Who?”

  “Blue.”

  “Did he leave a number?” She got quickly back on her toes.

  “No. He sounded like you had it.”

  “No. If he calls back, please get it.”

  “He said he was coming to see you.”

  Red decided to not even get upset with Kera. She knew she wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, so she just let it pass. What the fuck does he want?

  Red poured a glass of juice and went upstairs to her room. Inside her room there was a box with a UPS label sitting beside her bed. On one side it read “Triple Crown Publications” and she instantly knew it was copies of the book. Suddenly Red remembered that she’d left the copy Q had given her on the counter next to the refrigerator. She dashed back downstairs to the kitchen. This time it wasn’t on the counter. It was in the hands of Mekel, who was reading it intently.

  “Hey, give up the book,” she said.

  “Oh naw. You gotta let me hold this. This book came for you today by the case. I carried it upstairs and put it in your room. You know Kera can’t lift anything.” He rubbed her stomach. “What you doing with a case of these books?” he asked.

  “Selling them,” Red lied.

  “Cool, here you go. Your first sale.” Mekel dropped a twenty on the counter for her.

  Red hesitated about taking the money, until she realized she had no other reason to have a case of the books in her possession.

  Suddenly the phone rang, interrupting the silence. Kera grabbed the cordless phone.

  “Hello. Yeah . . . that’s right . . . okay. ’Bye.”

  “Who was that?” Red asked.

  “Oh, Blue again. He said he was on his way over.”

  “Why didn’t you give me the phone?”

  “He didn’t ask. He verified your address. He asked me if you were home and said he would be right over. Then he said ’bye.”

  “So, he’s on his way?”

  “Yeah, ten minutes, he said.”

  Red looked at Kera and knew she didn’t have time to argue. Her mind was on what she could wear for her meeting with Blue.

  Kera and Mekel finished their meals and shared laughter as they cleaned the kitchen. They planned to go shopping for the baby. In the meantime, Red ran upstairs and turned on the shower, testing the water to see if the temperature was right. She removed the hair tie from her neat ponytail. Seeing Blue would be painful, yet it was still exciting.

  Gazing in the mirror, Red mustered her strength. She knew that she couldn’t let herself get weak. Red had waited for the day when Blue came to her. It would have been a cold day in hell before she went back to him.

  Red stepped into the shower and allowed the water to cover her hair. She lathered honeysuckle-scented shampoo into her red mane and her eyes began to sting. That was when she realized that she was crying. Blue had hurt her and started all of this drama. If only Blue could have been decent to her. If only his love was as true as hers. He used to tell her, “I’m true blue, baby. You’ll never find another.” For many years Red believed this—she still hadn’t loved a man like she had him. Yes, he would pay for his betrayal. Red, true to form, would seek revenge.

  Red applied styling mousse to her hair to accentuate her curls. She applied MAC bronze-gold eye shadow and black mascara to accent her eyes, put on her lip gloss and applied lotion all over her body. She slipped on her favorite pair of ripped-up jeans and silver tank top. Damn, I look good, she thought, examining herself in the mirror.

  Red went to the kitchen to prepare something simple. The best way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. Red started to sauté some onions in the skillet. Looking at her watch she began to wonder if Blue was still coming. It was going on thirty minutes. Red prepared the ground beef, as she chopped vegetables and grated cheese. Red continued to cook to calm her nerves and kill time.

  The chimes from the door caused butterflies to move into her stomach. Red counted to twenty to ease her breathing. Then she walked down the hall to the door.

  Red began to breathe deeper and deeper to calm her nerves. She couldn’t stand the fact that the closer she got to the door, the more upset her stomach became. Several times she felt as though she was going to throw up. The pregnancy was getting on her nerves. The day couldn’t come quick enough for her appointment to get this thing sucked out of her.

  Red pulled the door open slowly, cautiously peeking through the crack. She looked him dead in the eye, revealing a level of confidence that was missing in the old Red. She had more seriousness about her face, not the wide-eyed, naive glances they once shared. Blue’s eyes met hers, and Red knew he couldn’t get over how lovely she looked.

  CHAPTER 18

  Vengeance Is Mine

  Blue stood in front of Red’s 6,000-square-foot home with his tongue hanging out.

  “Look what the cat drug in,” she said as she opened her front door in order to get a better view. Blue had left her in tears years earlier. But at the moment, she was riding high, feeling good and flowing in her element.

  Red noticed that Blue was shaggy, like an old wet goat. Time had not been kind to his looks or his midsection.

  Red walked Blue toward the kitchen to the aroma of chopped onion, cilantro, tomatoes and homemade guacamole.

  She looked on as Blue’s nostrils flared in appreciation as he found his way to a retro-shaped stool at the counter. She could see he was making himself at home.

  Red was glad she was wearing her engagement ring. The pink diamond sparkled under the ceiling lights.

  “Yo, you married?” Blue inquired.

  “Gonna be soon,” Red said, liking the idea.

  “Oh, it’s like this? This yo’ nigga’s crib?”

  “Nah, he got his own place.” Red examined her fingernails in a nonchalant manner. “He lives downtown in a loft.”

  “Oh, so this you? This your crib?”

  “Yes, Blue. I do have a job.”

  “So what you into these days?”

  “I’m a Realtor.”

  “That’s righteous. I always wanted to get into real estate.”

  “So, what you doing?”

  “Same shit, different city. That’s why I wanted to look you up. I’m gonna be in town for a minute.”

  “Oh, so that’s the only reason you holla’d at me?”

  “You know that ain’t the only reason. I missed you.”

  “Yeah, whatever. Blue, I ain’t heard from you in years.”

  “I tried to contact you b-but�
�” Blue stammered.

  “But what?” The sternness in Red’s voice caught him off guard and her stare unnerved him. His hands and eyes twitched and he looked away.

  “But shit, fuck the past, and besides, you went and got married on me and shit.”

  “Nigga, tricks are for kids,” Red said.

  “Yeah, I see you got game.”

  “Not game, just survival techniques.”

  “Oh, so it’s about survival.”

  “Yeah, Blue. Look, let’s not play games. You know it took a minute for me to get over you, and now I have. So let’s just keep it moving.”

  “Cool. I can do that.”

  “So, you got a wifey? You know, with all the women you had.”

  “Had? Shit, I still get mines.”

  “Oh, so you ain’t changed.” Red tried with all her might to keep her cool, but she felt her nails digging into the palms of her hands.

  Maybe she wasn’t completely over him. It wasn’t that she still wanted to be his woman, she just wanted to get more revenge on him. She knew she couldn’t make his heart ache. He would have to care for her to do that. Niggas like Blue didn’t fall in love. They had been there and done that.

  Red could hear his stomach rumble as he sauntered over to the fridge and took the liberty to pull a Corona from the shelf. She wondered if Blue had been smoking weed and had the munchies. When he knew her at fifteen, she couldn’t cook. She wanted to show off and put out a Pyrex dish of enchiladas. Eat your heart out, she thought.

  Suddenly they heard someone enter through the front door.

  “Hellooooo . . . Sasha’s home!” she sang.

  Sasha glided into the kitchen, hips swiveling in a circular motion. The first thing her eyes beelined upon was Blue’s backside. In her mind, he was prey. It had been some time since Catfish had left, and quite frankly, that hold-you-down-nigga shit was getting old. Lately, her clit had started to itch and she wanted to scratch it. It didn’t help that Catfish’s stash wasn’t as long as everyone thought it was and she hadn’t gotten as much as she hoped from the sale of the loft.