Relapse: A Novel

by Nikki Turner

  She went over to the concierge’s desk to try to get a limo, but it was almost impossible. Besides, she didn’t really want to leave her friends anyway.

  She called Lootchee back, “Baby, they are trying to charge us like three grand to drive me from Houston to Dallas. It’s ludicrous to pay that kind of money for me to be there for only a few hours, and then come back.”

  “Aight, if you think so.”

  “But I will be in your arms day after tomorrow; I’m still coming there just like we planned.”

  After the business with Seth was taken care of, Beijing let the girls know she was going upstairs for a minute. In the lobby she ran into Bill—the security guard she had hired when Don first started. He told her that Don was in room 1725 and she should go and talk some sense into him. He had relapsed again, and Bill was afraid that Don might kill himself if the leeches around him didn’t.

  Beijing entered the elevator and pushed the button for the seventeenth floor, not before realizing that Corday, the club owner from Atlanta, was in the elevator with Dazzle and several of his strippers he had brought out to the All-Star Game to work. She shared a few words with Dazzle and promised to get up with her later before getting off on Don’s floor.

  A mixture of music and talking could be heard from Don’s room.

  Listening for a second, unable to pick out Don’s voice from the cacophony, Beijing knocked on the door.

  No one answered, so she knocked harder.

  This time the door was opened by a tall, rail-thin woman. “May I help you?”

  Beijing had never met the beanpole blocking her entrance to the room, but for some odd reason the voice sounded vaguely familiar.

  “I need to speak with Don.” Beijing was polite but curt.

  Macy-Rae did recognize Beijing. She looked just like the photo that Don kept tucked away in his wallet, the one he thought she didn’t know about.

  “I’m sorry, but Teflon the Don don’t do private meetings. He’ll be signing autographs and mingling tonight with groupies at an after-party.”

  That was it! Now she knew where she’d heard that squeaky voice. It was that girl that had called about Don a while ago. Macy-Rae was one slice of cheese from getting beat down.

  “Excuse me.” She pushed past into the luxury suite. “Where is he?”

  A few of the leeches that had clustered around Don in the lobby were now in his hotel room. They were drinking and smoking with a gaggle of young girls in short-shorts and miniskirts, the perks of tagging along with a platinum-selling rap artist: partying, pussy, and drugs.

  Beijing swept the place with her eyes like a hidden camera searching for shoplifters in a department store. It was a large room with a big-screen TV and card tables, a humongous dining room table, and four bedrooms, two on either side of the suite.

  “He doesn’t want to be bothered and isn’t talking to anyone while he’s having dinner.” Macy-Rae copped a seat at the Last Supper–like table in the same spot Judas would’ve taken.

  One of the weed-smoking leech worms pulled away from the pack of gullible girls to try his hand at Beijing.

  “Hey what’s your name, if you nice to me, I will get you in to meet Teflon da Don.”

  “What you will do is show me some goddamn respect parasite, if you don’t want your ass thrown out of this hotel and out of Don’s entourage, leaving you to scrounge up pussy and drugs on your own merit. Now lil boy, don’t play with me. Which one of these rooms is Don in?”

  She glanced over at Macy-Rae before entering the room, giving her a look that said, I’m not finished with yo’ trifling ass either.

  Macy-Rae didn’t budge.

  What Beijing saw after stepping inside the adjoining bedroom wouldn’t have looked so out of place if this was a cartoon, but it wasn’t—this was real life.

  She ran over to the small table where Don was seated facedown in a full plate of spaghetti. If she hadn’t gotten there when she did, he might have been the first rapper to ever drown in a plate of meat sauce.

  Teflon the Don had relapsed.

  After she wiped the red sauce from his face, Don looked at her. Actually, he looked through her. Clearly he was spaced out and had dilated pupils. Beijing had seen it all before.

  Later that night the performance by Teflon the Don was canceled.

  CHAPTER 30

  Crack Is Wack

  Other than the rumor about Teflon the Don overdosing on heroin backstage, the All-Star weekend was a fun-filled, successful event. But like all good times, sooner or later it had to come to an end.

  The girls were packed up, standing in front of the hotel, upset that it was time to leave. They had reserved two limos—a black stretch Hummer and a white Lincoln. Rayna, Paris, and Seville planned to be driven to the airport in the Hummer. Beijing was going to get chauffeured to Dallas to see Lootchee.

  “What you going to do, girl?” Rayna asked Beijing.

  She’d been trying to call Lootchee since last night to let him know what time she expected to arrive.

  “I don’t know. He still hasn’t answered his phone.” She snapped the flip-lid on her cell phone. “I don’t want to just show up.”

  “I would go and ask him what the fuck is his problem,” Paris suggested.

  “Right,” Seville said to her outspoken cousin. “And that’s why you don’t have a boyfriend; you don’t know what the hell to say out of your mouth.”

  “Actually I have three boyfriends,” Paris stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

  “Who?” Seville called her out. “I thought you were chilling, trying to get yo’self together.”

  “For yo’ information”—Paris rolled her neck—“his name is Nunya.”

  “Who is that? Anybody we know?” Rayna finally asked.

  “None of yo’ damn business.” Paris burst out laughing and Beijing, Rayna, and Seville followed suit.

  Beijing decided not to barge in unannounced at Lootchee’s home in Dallas. She was about to climb into the stretch Hummer heading to the airport when Corday walked up with a long-stemmed red rose.

  He gave her the flower and asked, “When are you going to be back in Atlanta?”

  “Not sure when I’ll be that way,” she said, smiling on the outside but inside wishing it was Lootchee handing the beautiful flower to her. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

  “The next time you are,” he said, flashing a Colgate smile, “I would love to take you to dinner and get to know you better.”

  I don’t have time for this shit right now, she thought, pissed off about the situation she was in with Lootchee, but she said, “Okay.” She didn’t want to rub him the wrong way because she knew that they were destined to do more business together.

  Rayna peeped her head out of the limo door. “Beijing, come on.”

  “Seriously.” Corday grabbed her hand. “Anytime, anywhere, anyplace, name the city!”

  “I’ll keep that in mind if I’m ever bored and hard up for a date—” Before she had finished her sentence, one of Corday’s dancers called for him to come over. Beijing just smiled. “—with a man who has pussy parading around him twenty-four seven.”

  “You do that.” He smiled.

  Beijing tried calling Lootchee the entire way to the airport, hoping he would answer so she could head to see him as they had planned. Every time he didn’t, she got more pissed.

  Before she knew it, she was in the back of the limo with her sister, Seville, and Rayna, sulking, a tear or two swelling in her eyes.

  Soon tears started dropping down her face.

  “You need to stop that,” Seville said. “Your eyes are going to get puffy.”

  “Cheer up, Sis. Fuck that nigga,” Paris said.

  “Don’t get yourself twisted over a no-count nigga,” Rayna added.

  “The same no-count nigga you talked her into hooking up with,” Paris blasted Rayna.

  “All she’s saying is that anybody who can make a woman cry like that is not any good for her,” Sevi
lle interjected, trying to defuse the tension between Paris and Rayna.

  Beijing tried to put on a strong face for her girls. Deep down, she knew they were right. She kept replaying the last conversation with Latchee to figure out what she’d said to make him shut down.

  $ $ $

  It had been two weeks since she returned to Charlotte from the All-Star Game, and Corday had been blowing her phone up. Most of the time she let his calls go to voice mail. The rare times she did pick up, the conversation was brief.

  He finally convinced her to have lunch with him. How Corday found out when she was scheduled to be in Atlanta was anybody’s guess.

  The day was amazing. He started by picking her up from the airport and giving her roses.

  “You do so much to take care of other people, I wanted this day to be all about you,” he said as he pulled in front of a nail salon.

  “That’s very thoughtful of you.” She smiled. Corday took her hand and helped her out of the car.

  As they walked into the salon, she felt eyes on her. The Asian women greeted her at the entrance, leading her over to the spa pedicure chair. Once she was settled, a woman asked her, “What’s your name?”

  Beijing told the girl her name.

  “You Chinese?” the woman asked with raised eyebrows after being told.

  “No, I’m not.” Beijing let out a chuckle. “I get that all the time. My mother named me and my sister after the places she felt that she would never see.”

  “Chinese dad?” she questioned.

  “No.” Beijing shook her head.

  “Your hair so silky. Look like you could be mixed.”

  “It doesn’t help with Lee being my last name either,” Beijing said with a smile.

  “Get out.” The Asian woman showed surprise. The woman spoke great English and she talked so much that Beijing and Corday could not get a word in. He didn’t mind as long as Beijing was enjoying herself. And she really was until she got a text from Rayna.

  I HEARD YOUR BOY WAS IN ATL, it read.

  After getting the full treatment for Beijing at the nail salon, Corday took her to dinner and a movie. To Beijing’s surprise they got along great. The conversation was easy and he seemed sincere. He was such a gentleman that she almost forgot that he was a legal pimp who owned a strip club.

  After being out all day, Beijing was back in her suite at the Tabby of Atlanta when Paris called her cell. “Hey P-Money,” Beijing answered.

  “Hey right back at you. Look, I know you are busy and things but just wanted to talk to you for a few.”

  “Shoot.” She had more than a moment to kick it with her sister.

  “Just wanted to let you know that I got a job at this mail-order pharmacy place, and it has room for advancement.”

  “That’s good! I’m so proud of you!” And she meant it. Paris had been doing surprisingly well.

  “Me too, but I’m a little nervous. I don’t want anything to mess it up.”

  Beijing told her, “You have to think positive.”

  “Yeah, but I’m gonna need Momma for a ride and when she’s off her meds it throws everything off. I never knew how crazy and out of control she can get without that stuff. I guess I was so busy medicating myself, I never really paid attention.”

  “She can get out of control,” Beijing agreed. “That’s why you have to make sure that she’s taking them. And it’s a little easier now since you are living with her.”

  “The problem is, one day off her meds, she feels like it ain’t no different, then two days still nothing, and then three days and then it’s really no sweat girl.”

  “And before you know it, shit done hit the fan,” Beijing said. They both broke into laughter thinking about the crazy stuff they had witnessed their mother do.

  When neither of them could laugh anymore, Paris changed the topic of conversation.

  “So how’s it going in Atlanta?”

  Beijing thought about her evening with Corday. “Better than I expected,” she said. “I had a date with the guy that gave me the rose when we were leaving Houston.”

  “The strip club owner?” Paris was shocked. “I didn’t know that you were even entertaining his conversation.”

  “Hey, but what’s a girl to do? He’s a nice guy aside from having a strip club.”

  “Tell me everything. Don’t hold back. How was it?”

  “It was nice, and I have a meeting tomorrow that’s thirty minutes away from here so he’s allowing me to use his car and driver to take me there and around town afterward. He said he wanted to buy me something nice but ran out of time, so he’s going to let me use his card to purchase myself something at Lenox Mall.”

  “Really?” Paris questioned. “That’s good.” She was somewhat suspicious, not used to men doing favors without motives.

  “Sweet, right?”

  “Yeah but be careful, you know how men can be, always want something for a lil bit of.”

  “At first, I was going to decline but I changed my mind. I’m just going to roll with the punches.”

  “I heard that. Because a bitch don’t turn nothing down but her collars,” she replied, contradicting herself.

  “I know that’s right, big sis.” They giggled some more.

  “Can I confess something to you?”

  “Yup, you know it. Anything you want.”

  “I texted Lootchee today.”

  A few seconds of silence passed.

  “Okay and …,” Paris pushed.

  “And he didn’t respond.” She paused. “I thought he would.”

  “What did you say?”

  Beijing recited the text verbatim: I’M IN ATL, HEARD YOU WERE TOO.

  “Well, if he doesn’t hit back, then it’s his loss.”

  Again, neither sister spoke.

  “Hello.”

  “Yeah, I’m still here.”

  “Why you get so quiet, what you thinking?”

  “What I’m thinking is that I don’t want you to take this the wrong way but over the years, I’ve always had to hear you say things to me that were hurtful, but true. And sometimes when you are caught up in a situation you can’t really see things for what they are.”

  “I’m not really in the mood for riddles,” Beijing said. “If you know something I don’t, please tell me.”

  “I’m getting to it. Be patient. I want you to know that I’m saying this out of love and not envy or jealousy.”

  Beijing listened.

  Though it wasn’t easy for Paris, she continued. “Over the years I’ve been jealous of you. I can admit it today.”

  “Why?” Beijing asked.

  “Because you had everything: a good childhood, a father who loved you enough to get his own shit together to rescue you from our mother situation—he gave you everything you asked for while I had to scramble for the little I got.

  “You know I’ve apologized before for leaving you that dreadful day.” This was a conversation that they’d avoided for years. The only time they’d ever said anything about it was during an argument. “I beat myself up about it so many days. Day after day I’d look in the mirror and ask myself how I could do a thing like that to my only sister.”

  Beijing’s eyes got watery, and she could hear the tears in her sister’s voice.

  “You know it’s been about six months since the day I called and you came to rescue me. I vowed that I would never put another drug in my body, so help me God. If you could at the drop of the dime, and despite everything I’ve done to you and said to you, come to my rescue because you heard me crying, then goddamnit I can get my shit together. Now it’s my turn to help you.” She paused briefly. “Lootchee isn’t any good for you, B.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “He can make you feel your best but it’s always only temporary. In Narcotics Anonymous, they call it highest of the highs and the lowest of the lows. Just like the narcotics, deep in your heart you know he’s bad for you, but you still are willing to ignore the
fact for the sensation he gives you.”

  Beijing listened to what her sister was saying. It was making some sense

  “Eventually, you will abandon the ones you love for him, and your job. Nothing will seem to matter but him.”

  Beijing thought about how she’d almost left her girls in Houston and how she’d call in to work for him and how his influence had made her do things that she knew she shouldn’t have, like launder money.

  “I really hate to admit it.” She paused. “But I think you may be right.”

  “I know I’m right,” Paris insisted. “From this point on, I say we refer to that nigga as crack. That’s his new name: Crack.”

  Beijing laughed but she knew that what Paris was saying had some truth to it. “So how do I kick crack?”

  “You have to decide when you are sick and tired of it. What it does to you, how it makes you feel afterward, and the things it makes you do. Once you hit bottom then you will kick it. I promise. You may have a few relapses before you’re able to finally kick him for good. And we use anything to prompt relapse.”

  The next morning, just as Corday had promised, his driver was there to pick her up for her client meeting.

  After it was over, Beijing took in an afternoon of shopping, courtesy of Corday and his American Express card.

  In the midst of the spree she was compelled—for reasons she couldn’t have explained even if she had to—to call Lootchee. It seemed like being in a city where he’d been known to hang out drew her to dial the number.

  He answered on the second ring. “What’s up?”

  “Hey you.” Beijing was happy to hear his voice. Something about the man just did it for her, regardless of how insensitive he could be at times. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m on the highway.” His voice sounded as if he didn’t have a worry in the world.

  He must have gotten her message and wanted to surprise her, Beijing thought.

  “How long before you get here?” She was excited. “I miss you—even though you drive me crazy sometimes.”

  “What are you talking about? I’m on my way to Florida,” Lootchee said, bursting her bubble again.