by Love Belvin
As she strutted her loose ass over to the opening, LeRoy followed it. He then reached up over his hand. “Good luck with that, Ellis.” His strength was present in his masculine grip.
He took off as I observed Randi coming into the V.I.P. area. I turned to find Jamil, and when I did, he responded with a wink and simultaneous nod while pulling out his phone.
On approach, I asked Randi, “Would you like a drink?”
“A shot of Henny and glass of Moscato,” she requested.
I repeated her order to Johnson, who relayed it to Rory before I took a seat a few feet from her. “Pulse is your speed?”
“It’s the last place I recall seeing my man happy.” She shrugged. “Plus, there’s lots of connected people who come here.” She tossed her chin my way. “Like you.”
“I’m just a man supporting family.”
“Family you used to fuck,” she made clear.
I nodded, accepting the blunt passed to me from Jamil. Her eyes ignited with anticipation at the mere sight of it. I took a short draw from it and held it in a moment while she watched, fascinated.
“How’ve you been making out?”
That question broke her gaze, and too quickly even for Randi. She blinked, head rearing as she looked away. Quickly, she recuperated. “I’m a scavenger, you know that. A savage ass one, too. I’m gonna always land something.” Once again, her attention locked onto my mouth when I took another pull of the blunt, and as magical as I knew my lips were, it wasn’t them that had her captivated. It was the cannabis, the allure of the immoral and prohibited substance in the environment. My wife’s best friend was addictively seduced by the nature of the forbidden.
It was that precise observation I’d had when I learned the woman I’d grown wildly obsessed with before she knew I’d even existed was friends with the savage scavenger. As I sat there covertly taking in Randi’s energy, I recalled the first conversation I had with my closest confidant about my intent regarding Bilan.
Rory’s glass froze at her mouth while her big ass eyes pinned me to my seat stunned. “Bird ass Randi from Triangle Village?”
I chuckled. “She’s not from Triangle Village. She grew up on Belmont Ave—”
Her head shook and left hand whipped the air dismissing my point. “Hoe ass Randi from every gutter in Paterson.” I couldn’t argue that. “She fucked every fuck ass block boy from the old Barnert Hospital to The Pound to Corrado’s to fuckin’…Preakness Ave. Anybody that run with that bitch gotta be a bird from the same goddamn feather.”
“Easy, Bean.” I chuckled. “I’m not trying to wife her.” I straightened in my seat at the bar in Montclair, uneasy with her truth about the obvious. “but I would like to explore her. I don’t think she shares the same pastimes as Randi.”
“The fuck.” Her head bounced according to her buzzed state. “You know how these bitches roll. Her pussy may not have the same amount of body tags as Randi, but I bet she on her way.”
I took a minute to consider the possibility. Rory had a point. As much as I tried seeing Ab’s sister in that lane, I couldn’t. I’d had her monitored for months and hadn’t seen evidence of her being as acquainted with the streets as her girl. Randi, the city knew; the girl, Bilan’s, name hadn’t had near the same frequency. The little who knew her identified her as Ab’s sister or the daughter of the African who had the restaurant back in the day.
“Can you trust me on this, Bean?”
“Oh, I trust you with my life. It’s Randi’s whore ass I don’t trust sharing a fuckin’ blunt with.”
I held out the blunt to Randi. Her eyes bounced all over as she readjusted herself on the bench, clearing her throat.
“It’s only a matter of time before security comes over and asks you to put it out,” I goaded.
She licked her glossed lips, eyes circling uncomfortably again. I’d had it too long. Blowing trees wasn’t exactly an indulgence of mine at my age. Two pulls were too many for my preference.
Randi reached over, snatching the rolled cigar from my hand. She put it to her lips and inhaled to the point of her chest rising in the familiar purple leather tube top. Her drink order was handed over from the waitress and Rory brought them up, placing the tray on the table. I pushed it directly in front of Randi and in a friendly gesture, handed her the Hennessy.
My phone vibrated against my chest in my inner suit jacket pocket. Bilan texted a picture of her feeding Sadik his nighttime bottle. She wore no makeup apart from a clear lip gloss, and her hair was wrapped in a silk scarf. He lay with his back against her chest, covered by an open silk robe exposing her sternum and the curve of her right breast. The sight of her in such a natural state of femininity reminded me of the power of a woman. She didn’t need ornaments to make her beautiful. Her beauty was in her assigned divine gender and especial superpower of motherhood.
My Nalib: I love you too much xoxo
My chest tightened as I typed back.
Me: Yet not more than I you and not enough.
“She’s sweet.” My eyes wandered over to Randi. She took a deep pull of the blunt and held it in her lungs. “Bilan a good one.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Like about your money she be giving me?”
“You mean the money she gave you last month that was all hers?” With a crooked grin, I shook my head. “Bilan doesn’t need my money.”
Randi blew the dro out on a chuckle. “Shiiiiiit. What real bitch don’t need your money?”
“Your bestie.”
“Bilan ain’t got shit. If you think she do, she fuckin’ with your head. Her mother and father ain’t have shit to leave her but debt. That’s how she lost that house.”
I nodded, then reached for my brandy. After a satisfying taste, I explained, “She didn’t need money to capture my attention.”
“Then what the fuck did it?” Randi snorted. “Not her dried up ass pussy. I love my girl, but know she a boring fuck.” She made sure to trail the bottom of her glass down her cleavage for my attention.”
A smile curled my lips before I took another sip. “That’s what this is about?”
Randi giggled, weed clearly fuzzing her head. She placed the wine glass down and drained half of the Hennessy.
Her eyes were low when she turned to face me, giving me full view of her tube top, and that’s when I realized where the fond memory of it derived from.
“Nah. What I’m saying is I’m a scavenger.” Her lips expanded seductively when making her point.
I gave her my full attention when asking, “And what are you hunting for, sweetheart?”
“You know me, Deek. You know the jungle I live in. It cost to survive. I ain’t a college-degreed, nine-to-five type of bitch. I’m the type that feeds the fantasies in ya head while your lil’ wife make you look good for your friends and family.” She inched closer. “I take the nightshift.”
I poured the last of the Mauve into my mouth, enjoying the way it stimulated my throat.
“Ah, come the fuck on, Sadik,” she cried impatiently, masking her vulnerability with laughter. “You know I’m good. You know my head game. “
I nodded, affirming her claim with drawn lips. She waited with more patience this time, her gaze burning the side of my face.
Finally, I returned, “You’re forgetting one thing, though.”
“What?”
“She’s your friend. Your best friend,” I qualified.
Randi snorted, big pretty teeth exposed as she laughed. “Okay. First of all, my ass too old to be having a fuckin’ best friend. And I’m too smart to let friendships fuck with my money. I love my girl, Bilan, for real. A lil’ too fuckin’ naïve, but got a heart of gold, and she smart as shit. But even she did what she had to do and got with a playboy when she was fuckin’ starving. She knew the bottom was ‘bout to fall out for her. It ain’t matter that she was finishing up school. Bilan knew that degree wasn’t gone get her no real money right away. She had shit due, so she did what sh
e had to do.”
“And that was fuck with me?”
A scoff rented the air over the music. “Fuck, yeah. You think ol’ girl ya speed? You think she fuck with niggas like that? Mad muthafuckas tried that snatch and she blocked them. Only nigga that came close was the freckled-face fuck from her school. He used to spend the night at her place, and when the lights went out, his ass was on the couch. I felt bad for the geeky-ass.” She turned away with a hard eye roll. “I even let him eat my pussy one night. That bitch ain’t even know.”
The mention of Jason spending the night at Bilan’s disrupted my ability to breathe smoothly. I’d survived her blow about me not being Bilan’s type, an insecurity I thought I’d extinguished months ago.
“What?” Randi’s brows were hiked when she sensed the sudden spiral in my mood. “I felt sorry for that young fucker, all sniffing up Bilan’s weird ass all that time. She knew she liked him. She was just too high strung to know what to do. Shit, she probably fucked him and just ain’t say shit—”
“Twenty-five minutes up, chief,” Rory appeared over us on the other side of the coffee table.
“Grown folks is talking, Rory,” Randi snapped. “Scram, grandma.”
“Yo, suck my ass, bitch,” Rory snapped.
Randi sucked in a breath, her hand clasping my thigh. “You gonna let her talk to me like that?”
My eyes roved from her shocked eyes to her grinning mouth, down her arm, and finally to where we connected. I stood, effectively dropping her repulsive claw from me.
“Well,” I buttoned my jacket. “this has been enlightening.”
“What?” She dropped the blunt into her empty Hennessy glass. “I thought we was making a deal!”
“Neither this life nor the next will ever yield an opportunity for you to fuck me, Randi. I’m not sure what you thought us sharing a blunt was about, but it damn sure wasn’t about the future of us fuckin’.”
“Oh, really?” she scoffed. “I ‘on’t know who you putting on for. Ain’t no naïve bitches around here. I know the game. I know what you Ellises like. You need variety pussy. I know how to keep my mouth shut to keep ya family happy. I know Bilan. She won’t find out.”
I bent over in her direction to reach eye level with her. “I’m an Ellis, but not that Ellis, Randi. I wouldn’t let you close enough to my dick to sniff it.”
A sleek grin stretched her face, her tongue circling the rim of her lips. “You already did. Remember?” She winked. “I bet Bilan don’t know that, just like I bet you don’t know if she fucked freckle boy.” Suddenly, her expression fell and Randi rolled her eyes. “Fuck you, Sadik!”
A raucous laugh shot from the back of my throat, and I gave in to it. “You want to, huhn, sweetie?” My eyes scanned the section. “Enjoy the free bottles of top shelf. Invite a fuck boy up and trick his ass out. I only turn ‘em for Africans.”
Rotating, I followed my detail’s line out of the section, and then the club. I had business to tend to.
∞18∞
Iban Ellis
Iban Wesley Ellis
Iban W Ellis
I huffed, frustrated by the lack of yields when Google’ing each name combo.
Iban Ellis Arrest
Iban Ellis Sentencing
They all produced the same results; articles I’d seen last spring and summer when I Google-stalked the entire family. Frustrated, I sat back in my seat, peering out of the oversized diamond grille windows of Irene’s office. I didn’t have much time this morning and was hoping to capture something new to chew on.
The door opened, causing my spine to leap straight, and I slammed my laptop closed. Monica, so beautiful and charmed, craned inside, arresting my investigative mind.
“Hey, girl.” Her smile was deep, deceptively reminding me of the wholesome woman I met a year ago. The one I found to be the standard in this family. “Heard you were looking for me.”
My eyes blinked in an attempt to switch lanes in my brain. “Ye-yeah,” I stuttered, bringing my elbows onto the desk casually. “Have a seat.”
Monica closed the door, her blunt cut, bone-straight shoulder-length, chocolate mane moving like a sheet over her shoulders. My sister-in-law was an undeniable fox. “I haven’t seen Sadik around in a few days. He’s been busy with his gazillion businesses?” she asked when seated.
“He’s been down in Atlanta since Friday afternoon.” That mention made my heart flop from craving him so. “I’ve been trying to supplement his presence with his son, but they are very much two different Sadiks.”
Monica’s feathery laughter drifted into the air. “Oh, of course, they are. He may look just like his dad, but his father he isn’t.” I shook my head dramatically in agreement, hating how much I’d been missing that man. Continuing to laugh, she asked, “What’s up, girl?”
I took a deep breath, fortifying myself. “This isn’t an easy subject to broach, but I’ve been working on being straight forward around here.”
“That’s the way you must be,” she made clear. “Trust me. No one survives around here by swallowing back their concerns.” She gave a nod of encouragement. “Speak your heart, sister.”
I smiled, wondering if she was truly prepared. My eyes rolled away as my knees began to rock back and forth under the desk, my torso swaying.
“Your husband was incarcerated for murder. There was a year-long trial with media coverage.”
She blinked hard several times, startled. “Yes.”
“He was convicted of a gruesome murder.” I leaned over the desk. “He tortured Hubert Jackson before killing him. Iban carved out his lips and pushed them around Jackson’s penis.” My breakfast nearly came up at the visual. I swallowed hard. “Iban still got off on passion as a result of reasonable provocation manslaughter, but was originally charged with first degree murder. How did that reduction in charges happen?”
Monica’s head shook, eyes fell, as she visibly found it difficult to swallow. Her hand went to her neck in a delicate touch as she cleared her throat. “You’re asking me about legal savvy. I’m the wrong person. The family still uses the same law firm.”
“You know that’s not an inquiry I can put in casually. I was hoping you could help me out.”
“Bilan…” Her hand brushed down her arm while turning her gaze away from me. “That was so many years ago, not the best time for this family. I can’t possibly recount the details of it.”
“Your husband could have spent the rest of his life in prison. Times like that you never forget.”
Her chin dipped. “He could have. But with so many years between then and now and his many…blunders—”
“Fuckups,” slipped from my lips. Monica’s surprised gaze hit me, and it was me dropping my eyes this time. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’s been my life for over thirteen years.” She rolled her eyes, that quickly incensed.
There was a delayed pause as she took a few cleansing breaths, struggling through thoughts I was sure were dark. I delivered patience, seeing it was only reasonable after my slip up.
“I don’t hate him,” I wanted to make clear. “Am I angry? Yes—absolutely. My child is my only close blood living relative. He honestly feels like the only.” I bit my lip to stop its quivering. “But I’m more than in love with my husband; I’m committed to him and his family. All of them. They’re all fallible, including Sadik; I get it.” I shook my head. “But I don’t understand Iban. He’s the most surfaced diabolical of all the men. He kills for sport—has threatened me several times. I need to know what I’m working with here,” I partially lied. “He’ll rejoin us at some point.”
Monica stood, drawing in a deep breath. “I think you should speak to Sadik about this. He likely recalls all the details you’re curious about.”
As she waited at the door for my responses, I realized the conversation was done. Monica had decided. I nodded, dismissing her.
When she pulled the door open, Robert was on the other side, pushing through.
“It’s okay, Rob,” she replied. “I was just leaving.”
Monica skirted out without a final glance.
“Ms. Bilan, I’m ready when you are.”
I’d already began grabbing my things. “Okay. I’m ready. Glad you found the keys.”
“Yes. Whenever car keys are missing around here, I forget as security, I have access to the backup ones. There’s a big, backup room with spare keys to every lock on the grounds.”
When an odd visual came to mind, my body steeled. I turned to Robert still in the doorway.
“Like a repository…” I breathed with wild eyes.
A memory flashed in my mind.
“How were you able to find this?” I asked, shocked as I thumbed through the print outs.
Jason took a seat across from me in the private library room. I’d been in there for hours trying to collect relevant documentation on Corey Booker’s first mayoral campaign. His opponent was a tenured politician using dirty tricks to ensure his incumbency. There were no relevant articles coming up via Google, and the school’s library was no better.
Earlier in the day, Jason texted to invite me to lunch and I declined, explaining my grief. Hours later, he entered the private room with an accomplished grin and a stack of papers warm from the printer. He’d given me countless articles on all the alleged claims of political intimidation.
“I’m the information and technology guy.” He beamed. “You forget.”
Dazed, I breathed, “I guess I did.”
“But I bet you won’t forget who came through in a clutch.” He winked, flirting again.
“How did you get this?”
Jason shrugged. “The school’s technology program has a relationship with the state. Whenever there’s reporting on local matters, the state collects all media coverage—in each medium. Anything you want on events in New Jersey, there’s a database housing it. It’s like a repository for media information.”
“But how are we supposed to have access to it as students?” Then I thought. “Or is it only available to students in certain departments?”