Relapse: A Novel

by Nikki Turner

  “You did get my text, didn’t you? And if so,” she said with attitude, “why aren’t you on the way to Atlanta to see me?”

  “Because I don’t see a reason to waste my time driving to see anybody who’s not willing to spend a couple of g’s to show me some love.”

  Beijing was almost speechless. She didn’t know what to say. This is what this shit is about? Because I didn’t spend fucking three grand to come and see him. Is he fucking kidding me?

  “You can’t be serious?” she said.

  “Yeah, I’m dead-ass serious. I would’ve ridden across the country on a moped to come and get you. Don’t you know I done had bitches paying three thousand one-way to fly in to see me, and you going to cry about paying it one night to see me?”

  “You said it wasn’t that serious. And if it was, then why didn’t you send a car for me?”

  The phone was silent, and then the next thing she heard was her phone ringing. Lootchee had hung up on her and now he was calling her back. So she thought anyway, and this time she was ready to rip into his ass. But she was going to have to wait to get off her frustrations. It was Corday calling.

  Beijing wanted to let the call roll over to voice mail, but how could she? She was in his car, being driven by his driver, and had just spent his money. Taking a deep breath, she thumbed the TALK button.

  “Hello.” Her voice was low, hesitant.

  “How are you, beautiful? I hope you’re finished burning the credit card up, because I have something special planned for this evening.”

  “Everything is good,” she lied, trying to put a spark in her voice to disguise her feelings.

  “You sure?”

  “Totally.” That wasn’t even close to the truth.

  “I hope you bought yourself some nice things?” He sounded as if he genuninely meant it.

  “I did.” She wiped away another tear.

  “Well, you still don’t sound like you’re happy.”

  “I am,” she tried to assure him, even though she couldn’t quite convince herself.

  “I tell you what. We’ll talk about whatever’s bothering you at dinner.”

  She took a deep breath, and then exhaled. “Sounds good to me.”

  “If there is something else you want to treat yourself to while I wrap up here, feel free.” A rap video was being shot at Corday’s club. She could hear the commotion in the background.

  “Okay, sure thing. You don’t have to tell me twice. Well, get back to work and call me when you are on the way.” Beijing rushed him off the phone before she lost it.

  She disconnected the call and was in tears. The driver asked, “Ms. Lee, everything is fine?”

  “Marvelous,” she sniffed. “Simply marvelous.”

  She pulled out her phone and texted Lootchee. YOU NEVER CEASE TO AMAZE ME. THANKS FOR BREAKING MY HEART AND HURTING MY FEELINGS YET ANOTHER TIME!

  Back at the hotel, Beijing went to take care of her clients. She was trying to hold it together enough to work but couldn’t focus at all. Still, she managed to quickly get her clients checked in to the hotel. Once they were all settled, she decided to go to her room, charge her phone, and lie down for a nap to get her mind off Lootchee—only to be awakened by her doorbell ringing.

  She popped up to see who it was: Corday. Damnit, I wanted to be waiting for him downstairs.

  She had Corday sit in the living room of her suite while she went into the bathroom to get herself ready for their dinner date.

  As she was retouching her makeup, Corday called out, “Your cell phone is ringing.” She dashed across the room to check the caller ID—a private number. “Hello.”

  “I broke your heart?”

  “Hello.” She acted like she couldn’t hear him.

  “Yeah, can you hear me?”

  “Hello.” Beijing kept up the charade. “Hello, hello, hello!”

  “Yeah, B,” he called out to her, “it’s me.”

  “Whoever this is, stop playing on my phone.” She hung up feeling somewhat recharged. It felt good to fuck with him for a change.

  Lootchee called back three more times. When she didn’t bother to pick up, she felt more in control.

  The next day she continued spending Corday’s money and even though he put a lot of effort into showing her a good time, she still could not keep her mind off Lootchee.

  It was time for her to wrap up her stay in Atlanta. As soon as Corday dropped her off at the airport to head to Durham, before even checking in, she called Lootchee. Just like that her plans had changed and he was on his way to pick her up.

  CHAPTER 31

  Emotionally Twisted

  Beijing got in the car without looking at Lootchee and crossed her arms.

  “So you not speaking to me?” he asked. “You don’t pick up my calls, claim your phone is broken, and now you not talking to me?”

  “You got that right.” She nodded. “But why should I? You dumped me without giving me a damn explanation!”

  “I can’t blame you. You have every right to be mad at me, baby. I’m just crazy and fucked up in the head sometimes. I felt like you were neglecting me by being out with your girls not even thinking about me. And I just thought, Fuck it! I don’t need her.”

  Beijing finally looked at him.

  He gazed into her eyes. “But I was wrong. I need you like the sky needs the sun, hell needs water, and the world needs peace. I could go on.”

  “Really?” she asked. She felt herself starting to melt.

  “Baby, I’m going to make it up to you. I promise you that. And I’m gonna start right now, right here.” He removed a jewelry box from the glove compartment. He opened it up and Beijing’s mouth dropped. It was a beautiful charm bracelet with gold and diamond trinkets.

  “I love it,” It was odd but gorgeous.

  “It has a diamond Chinese pagoda charm from Beijing,” he said. Then he leaned over and kissed her, and Beijing couldn’t even remember the pain and hurt she had felt. She became warm and soft inside.

  Beijing had been chilling in Atlanta with him for over a week now, and when she wasn’t working, the make-up sex was hot, passionate, and intense. Lootchee made love to her at least twice a day, and fucked her brains out three times before the sun started pushing the rays of light through the partially closed curtains on the eighth day they had been together.

  “I might have to pick a fight with you more often,” Beijing said after waking up. The top of the sheets came up just above her navel. Her firm perfect breasts were rising up and down with each breath as she lay on her back. Lootchee lay beside her, watching her. “Last night was incredible.”

  Lootchee sported a lopsided grin. “If my memory serves me correctly,” he said, “you weren’t taking any prisoners either. I thought I was going to have a stroke trying to keep up with you.”

  He planted a soft kiss on her lips.

  “You had a stroke all right. It was long, hard, and steady, and lasted all night.” They both started laughing.

  The two went back and forth with playful banter until Lootchee’s cell phone interrupted from the night table.

  He let it go to voice mail.

  “What time do you—”

  This time it was his pager vibrating. Every time his pager went off, Beijing smiled because Lootchee was so old-school.

  “You might as well answer it,” she said, trying to shield the fact that she was annoyed by the electronics and the distractions.

  He sat up in the bed. “I’ll only be a second.”

  The entire conversation was one-sided, and he only asked a series of questions. Beijing ear-hustled from her side of the bed.

  “What’s such an emergency?” he asked. “Who was it? Which people?”

  Whatever were the answers to those questions caused him to hang up with a frantic look on his face.

  He immediately turned to Beijing with weary eyes. His next call was to have his numbers changed.

  “What’s wrong, baby?” she asked once he was
finished. She had never seen him appear afraid.

  “I had met this party planner chick from Virginia at my man’s funeral,” Lootchee explained, “when we were broken up. I was vulnerable.”

  When have I ever known him to be vulnerable, she asked herself but continued to listen.

  “The chick’s business had potential and I invested in it. And in return she helped me out with some business ventures I had going on in D.C. And now I believe that the bitch is trying to set me up.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Bambi,” he said. Something about the way he said her name made Beijing suspicious, but she decided not to probe further. He’d never admit to anything anyway. “She’s trouble. I just know it. I can feel that shit in my gut, like she’s greedy and conniving and will do anything to save her own ass.”

  Beijing was shocked. “Set you up how?” Beijing wanted to know.

  “With the feds. She said they kicked their way into her business and were asking about me.” He added, “I know that broad put them on me. I know she did.” He punched the headboard with his fist, startling Beijing.

  “I know you are angry and it is fucked up, but you have to calm down so we can think this out,” Beijing reasoned. “Now, what exactly did this girl say?”

  “She said, the feds had busted her spot and I’m next on the list. I need to get out of the country until I get a grip on what’s really good. I may need your help.”

  “Of course, of course.” Beijing racked her brain trying to figure out how she could help him. She had never seen Lootchee so frazzled. “I know some people in South America that’ll put you up,” she said, already scrolling down her mental Rolodex. “How soon do you need to leave?”

  “As soon as possible.” He seemed so nervous.

  “I know things look bad, baby, but try not to panic. I know someone who can hook you up with a passport and you can be on your way in twenty-four hours. You have to trust me.”

  He turned to her and took her in his arms. “Sorry for getting you involved with this. But right now you are the only person I can trust. And baby, if the shoe was on the other foot you know there are no bounds.”

  She put her own emotions and well-being aside and looked in his eyes. “Don’t worry, I got you. I promise you I do,” she said.

  CHAPTER 32

  Thirty Escalades

  Seth’s friend Prince Amir was so pleased by the way Beijing efficiently and discreetly had the pound of marijuana delivered to Seth when he and Amir touched down in Miami that over the past two months he’d called on her a few more times to handle things for him. The moonlighting work was a welcome distraction from her problems with Lootchee.

  With the money that Amir paid—not to mention several of Beijing’s other clients demanding so much of her time—she had to make a hard decision. She thought about what she needed to do from every possible angle before deciding that it was time for her to step out on faith, follow her passion, and work full-time for herself. Beijing filled out the necessary paperwork to take a temporary but indefinite leave of absence from the Tabby, her home away from home for the past six years. She had been burning the candle at both ends for so long that she didn’t want to torch the bridge down.

  She called Thaddius to inform him of her decision. Thaddius was a good employer and even a better person. He told her that although he was sad to see her leave, he fully understood. Business was business.

  “The door to the Tabby will always be open to you,” he promised her.

  Amir’s latest request was to have thirty Escalades shipped to his new home in Cuba. He wanted to give the cars to a Cuban diplomat as a gift. The Cuban diplomat and Amir had been good friends for years; he was like an uncle to Amir. He loved American cars, and since the United States had placed the embargo on Cuba in ′62, American automobiles had been difficult for the ol’ head Cuban to obtain.

  Amir didn’t want to deal with customs and he wanted no documentation of him, her, or anyone around him ever receiving the vehicles, because then he’d have unnecessary headaches with the government. Beijing didn’t fully understand the seriousness of the risk she was taking, but she was up for the challenge or the trouble that she could get in from sometimes helping the people she helped. This time was no different!

  If she could pull this one off Amir promised to pay her enough money to send Chyna to boarding school, college, medical school, and any other type of educational institution the child wanted.

  Beijing sat in her front room in an off-white suede recliner sipping a cup of hot tea, her computer resting on a pillow on top of her lap. She was thinking hard. The prince’s request was odd. The man was a billionaire many times over, and what he wanted with the cars was none of her business. That was one of the reasons most of the people she dealt with returned to do business with her again: She didn’t ask questions and was always discreet.

  Beijing’s mind was a total blank. Getting those cars overseas didn’t seem within her means whatsoever. She wished she could call Lootchee and see if he had any ideas, but that was pointless. He was out of the country, still on the run. Though she talked to him for a few minutes a few times a week, she knew the reality was that she couldn’t rely on him for anything.

  She felt like a junkie who knew that her drug of choice was bad for her but at the same time loved to indulge all the same. She had to keep telling herself to forget him, forget him, FORGET HIM. Maybe if she kept telling herself, eventually it would come to pass.

  Back to business. She had an idea. It was a long shot, but if it could be done, it would solve at least part of the problem.

  She picked up the phone from the end of the table and dialed Peggy Bucotti.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey, Peggy. This is Beijing.” It had been over six months since the two last spoke. Peggy loved herself some Sterling. She and Sterling had gone to high school together, and though Sterling never gave her the time of day, she always kept in touch with Beijing.

  “Hey girl,” Peggy said, “long time no hear. How’ve you been?”

  “Just working hard,” Beijing said. She set the laptop on the coffee table and stood up. “You know how it is.”

  “All too well.” Peggy sighed. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” She knew Beijing well enough to know that it wasn’t a simple social call.

  “I have a question for you, Peggy. How easy would it be to have a car declared salvage?”

  Peggy had been working at the DMV for over eighteen years, and she had seen it all throughout her time.

  “That’s pretty simple,” Peggy said. “When do you need it? I will just need the VIN number to get it done for you.”

  So far so good.

  “How about if there was more than one car?” Beijing asked.

  “It’ll definitely be worth your while.”

  “How many more?”

  Beijing could sense that Peggy was less enthusiastic than before.

  “Twenty-nine more,” Beijing said, laughing a little. “Thirty in all.”

  “Are you serious, B? That’s a lot of cars.”

  “Serious as a heart attack,” Beijing replied. “Can you help me?”

  Peggy was quiet for a few beats.

  “I’m afraid not,” she finally said. “If it was one, certainly, two no problem, three maybe … But thirty, Beijing? That’s a lot. If I tried to mess with that many documents it would be like taking a red flag and sticking it in my ass for everyone to see. If we were talking about before those terrorists flew into those buildings, that would be a different story. But now, that would be my last day at work and I would be sent off to the federal prison.”

  “And we don’t want that.”

  “No we don’t.”

  It was worth a try, Beijing thought. “I knew if anyone could do it, it would be you.”

  Peggy told her if she needed anything else to call and said that she was sorry one last time, then said good-bye.

  With no other ideas of her own, Beijing did what
she knew best.

  The next morning Beijing sat in her father’s newly remodeled kitchen. She admired all the upgrades added since the uninvited guest had tried to demolish the entire first floor of the house. For a split second she daydreamed about what it might be like to have a house of her own as Lootchee’s wifey, then she quickly shoved that idea right back where it came from.

  Sterling drank a glass of juice while Beijing put together a veggie and cheese omelet and heated up a can of corned beef hash. She explained the situation to her father as she cooked.

  “Well, baby,” Sterling said after she finished, “I’m pretty sure it can happen, and if it can be done, you’re going to want to call a guy I know that goes by the name Stash. If it can be done, dude can do it. He can get his hands on anything, so I am sure he might be able to help you. Besides, he’s a good person to have as a friend with all these high-profile clients you have making these types of requests.”

  “What exactly does this dude Stash specialize in?” She put a plate of food on the table in front of her father.

  Sterling said the grace and then jabbed a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “Anything he wants,” he said, after swallowing. “The guy is so off the hook at what he does, when I hear on the news about one of those multimillion-dollar paintings turning up missing from the museum, I envision Stash somewhere selling the Picasso or the Mona Lisa to the highest bidder. I’m telling you, baby, this is your man.”

  According to Sterling, Stash would buy and resell anything of value: old, new, collectible, vintage, hot, borrowed, gifted. The only exceptions were illegal drugs, his ass, and his soul.

  Sterling filled Beijing in on the background info. For almost twenty years Stash had run one of the most lucrative fence operations on the entire East Coast, providing services to some of the wealthiest and sometimes grimiest people on Planet Earth.

  In Stash’s eyes what he did was completely ethical. He was just a middleman accommodating both sellers and buyers. Although a great percentage of the goods he sold were hot or had been at one time, he could honestly boast that he had never stolen anything in his life—not even second base when he played softball in junior high.