Relapse: A Novel

by Nikki Turner

  Beijing was impressed with Stash’s MO and that her father knew him. “How come you haven’t put me in touch with him before now?”

  “Never seemed to need to.” He forked some corned beef hash into his mouth. “Time and place for everything, though,” he added. “And I guess no better time than the present.”

  CHAPTER 33

  What’s a Man to Do?

  The sun was a ball of fire inching across the tropical sky, blasting waves of heat onto Stash’s rented Dodge Stratus. The small nondescript car was characteristic of its driver: low-key and efficient. He fingered a button on the console, switching the air-conditioning to high, then signaled and made a right turn off the main street.

  A young man behind the wheel of a souped-up blue Honda Civic bumped his horn at Stash after almost hitting him.

  Stash cursed himself for forgetting that he was in the U.S. Virgin Islands, St. Thomas, where they drove on the left side of the road. He sheepishly waved his hand in the air gesturing to the young native, my bad.

  St. Thomas was the place to come if a person wanted to be on vacation on a tropical beach or buy a nice piece of jewelry for a decent price, but Stash was on the compact island for neither of those reasons.

  He parked the Stratus in front of the small, familiar box-shaped building on a narrow road. He smirked at the irony of the sign above the door, GOLD MINE.

  He’d made a small fortune over the years dealing with the owner of this particular establishment, he thought as he got out of the car.

  “Look what the cat done dragged in,” the owner, Ian, said as Stash opened the wooden door and walked in. He acted like Stash hadn’t called in advance to announce that he would be paying a visit to the island.

  “It’s been a long time.” Ian got up from the stool behind the glass display case and hurried to lock the front door before a customer walked in or, worse, a tourist wanted to window shop.

  “I always appreciate any business we do and I’m glad you consider me for your merchandise. I like Maurice. He’s good and honest, but it’s always good to see you. Don’t get to see you much.” He patted Stash on the back.

  “It’s good to see you, too, Ian.” Stash shook the gray-haired Jewish’s man hand. “How’s business, old-timer?”

  “Fantastic,” Ian replied. “But I would rather talk about our business, if you don’t mind.” He smiled a mouth full of tobacco-stained teeth.

  “That’s why I’m here. Let’s slide to the back and I’ll show you what I have for you.”

  Ian led the way to his private office. Inside the tiny space, he took a seat behind the old, scarred-up desk. Stash sat in the chair across from him.

  Ian’s eyes lit up like a six-year-old peering under the tree at Christmastime, seeing everything he’d asked Santa Claus for, plus some. He removed an eyepiece from his pocket to get a better look. “May I?” he asked.

  Stash nodded. “Help yourself. There’s a hundred Russian diamonds in all. All three to five carats.”

  Ian held one up to the jeweler’s glass and somehow his smile managed to grow even larger. “Beautiful,” he murmured to himself. “I’ve never seen this many stones of this quality at one time in my life,” he added. “They have to be worth a fortune.”

  “Actually,” Stash confirmed, “they’ll bring in one point two million, wholesale, on the open market. But for you, old-timer, I’m going to give you a real nice deal.” He paused. “Seven hundred thou.”

  “Really? Hmmm, I don’t have the whole amount now, but I can get it together in … let’s say … ten days.”

  Stash studied the old man. They’d done a fair share of business in the past, and the man’s word was always his bond.

  “Not a problem, old-timer. I’ll even leave the stones with you. You can get me the money the same way as the last time. If that’s okay with you,” Stash added, smiling.

  “Your generosity doesn’t go unnoticed or unappreciated, Stash. I’ll see to it that you get all your money on time.” Then, as an afterthought, “I have one question, and your answer has no bearing on our deal. Only so I’ll know how to proceed.”

  “Then ask, old-timer.”

  “The diamonds …” There was no way to ask other than bluntly. “Are they stolen?”

  It was Stash’s turn to sport the mega-smile. “Have I ever sold you stolen jewelry before?” he asked. “I have my ways, old-timer.” He added with a wink, “Besides, who ever heard of hot ice?”

  They both laughed.

  His business on the island was concluded, and Stash was climbing back into the Stratus when his phone woke up. It was a 704 number. He answered.

  “What’s up?”

  “Is this Stash?” the guy on the other end asked.

  “Who wants to know?”

  “My bad, Stash, this is Sterling; you may not remember me, but I used to run with your uncle Benny.”

  Stash knew exactly who Sterling was; he had the memory of an elephant. Benny never had anything but good things to say about the man. And the one time they’d met, although more than ten years ago, had been nothing but love.

  “Sure I remember you, Sterling. What’s popping, my man? I thought you had completely squared up?”

  “Like a box of Kleenex,” Sterling joked, “but I still know what I know. My daughter, Beijing, presented me with a problem that I couldn’t solve. I told her, though, if it could be done, you could make it happen.”

  Stash almost dropped the phone when Sterling mentioned the name Beijing. How many could there be in North Carolina?

  “Uh, no problem, Sterling. Tell your daughter to give me a call and I’ll see if I can be of any help,” Stash offered.

  “Cool. I got her right here, you can tell her what you want her to know yourself.”

  Stash could hear a few words in the background, and then a soft but confident-sounding female voice was on the line.

  After she’d introduced herself Stash said, “It’s nice to meet you, Beijing, you have a lovely voice. Has anyone ever told you that?”

  “Not that I can recall, but thank you for the compliment.”

  “Don’t mention it; I was only telling the truth. No big deal. So”—he changed the subject—“your father mentioned that I might be able to help you with something.”

  While Beijing explained the gist of her situation, Stash reminisced. He had always wondered what had become of the young girl with the odd name. The girl who had been partly responsible not only for him changing his name but also for probably saving his life. After he had seen how far some people would stoop to get drugs, even selling and raping a young girl, he knew it wasn’t something he wanted to do any longer.

  He had seen Beijing’s picture in a magazine article on the most accommodating hotels in the country and fallen in love. As resourceful as he was, he could have found her, but not knowing what turns her life had taken, Stash didn’t want to intrude. Maybe now he would.

  “That sounds doable,” he said, after Beijing finished talking. “I’ll have to check a few things out and call you later,” he added. “What’s the latest you’re comfortable taking calls? I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble with your husband for having a strange man calling in the middle of the night.” He was fishing for information on her martial status.

  “Oh, I’m not married and no jealous boyfriends,” Beijing offered quickly. “You can call anytime you like … I mean, when you find out what’s what.”

  “I’ll do just that, Beijing. You’ll be hearing from me real soon,” he promised.

  When Stash hung up, he smiled. He had so many extravagant things at his fingertips and never really took advantage of any of the luxuries he provided to other people. Now, though, it was time for him to go after something that he wanted for himself.

  He had an interesting dilemma to deal with of his own. Should he follow his instincts and stay out of the picture? Keep it all professional and deal with her from afar? Or should he follow his heart and pursue the young girl he’d never stoppe
d thinking about, who had grown into a beautiful woman?

  CHAPTER 34

  Pushing the Pedal to the Metal

  After the giant aircraft taxied the runway, Beijing shouldered her carry-on and Louis bag and stood in the aisle by her seat. Once the flight attendant gave the go-ahead, she hurriedly tried to exit the plane. A few of the passengers who had seats ahead of Beijing voiced their annoyance at her rush. “Excuse me, please,” she said while inching by a lady who was taking too long getting her things together.

  Dallas International had its usual army of traffic. People were flying to and from destinations all over the world. Normally Beijing would spend a minute or two wondering where some of the passengers were going or where they may have been. But today she had a one-track mind: getting to the rental car counter and getting to her destination.

  As she stood in line, she remembered the phone call from Rayna that morning.

  “York told me he seen Lootchee in Dallas yesterday,” Rayna had said casually. “Why didn’t you tell me he was back? When did he return?”

  “What?” Beijing had asked, stunned. Lootchee had been in South America for the past three months. He and Beijing usually talked over the phone three to four times a week, but she was so caught up with trying to take care of the many, sometimes complicated demands of her clients that more than a week had gone by since she had last touched base.

  “Are you sure it was Lootchee?” Beijing asked, thinking it had to be a mistake.

  “Pretty sure,” Rayna replied. “York told me he thought he saw him last night in Club Celestial. He said they were shouting him out on the mic and he described him to a T.”

  Confused and dumbfounded, Beijing kept her cool. “Girly, I’m going to call you back in a while.” She had an international call to make.

  When she called the cell phone that Lootchee had acquired while south of the border, the operator came on and said the number was no longer in service. Thinking she had somehow dialed the wrong digits, she tried again and got the same recording.

  Her confusion quickly turned into anger. As a last resort, Beijing called Julio, the man who had helped get Lootchee safely out of the United States and into the jungle and promised to personally see to it that Lootchee was taken care of as long as he was there.

  “¿Julio, como esta?” she asked.

  “Bueno, señorita,” he answered. “How are you?”

  “I’m good, Julio. But I’m just wondering where Lootchee is.”

  “I take him to the aeropuerto last week,” Julio said, and then asked, “Why? He no call you?”

  “He no call me, all right.”

  • • •

  Beijing drove the rented Dodger Charger down the highway at least ten miles per hour over the limit. I can’t believe that the no-good nigga didn’t have the decency to tell me he was back, after all the bullshit I went through to get this motherfucker out of the country. Harboring and abetting a fugitive. After all I’ve done! That inconsiderate bastard!

  Beijing tapped the brakes to slow the Charger down enough to veer onto the exit that would take her to Lootchee’s house. It didn’t matter if he was home or not; Beijing was determined to stay staked out in front of his house until he returned. She wanted to look into his mendacious face when she told him where he could go and how he could get there.

  Afterward, she could turn her back on him and walk away from his callousness for good.

  A black Mercedes S550 blew by Beijing going in the opposite direction. Lootchee had one just like it. Beijing jerked her neck around to get another glance. It was him all right. Before she knew it, Beijing skirted through a red light and busted an illegal U-turn.

  The back end of the rental car almost went out of control before straightening up. She stomped the gas pedal and the high-performance car lurched forward and was on Lootchee’s bumper in no time. She blasted the horn, nonstop, motioning for Lootchee to pull over. For the first time, Beijing noticed a female in the Benz with him.

  Lootchee checked his rearview mirror to see what all the commotion was about. When he realized that it was Beijing, waving her arm around gesturing for him to stop, he sped up.

  Unfortunately for Lootchee, Beijing had been taught to drive in one of her father’s tow trucks when she was twelve years old. By the time she was fourteen she was more than efficient at handling anything on wheels with the confidence of a professional driver. Beijing mashed the pedal to the floor, causing the Charger to bump the back of the Benz.

  “Pull over you son of a bitch,” she screamed as if he could really hear what she was saying. The woman in the car with Lootchee was looking back, her features revealing both fear and shock.

  Lootchee kept it moving until he reached an intersection with a red light. Beijing could tell he wanted to run it, but there were too many vehicles in his path. He had to stop, and when he did Beijing rammed right into the back fender of the Benz. The tire burst. She was in such a rage that she backed up and rammed the car again for good measure.

  “What’s the matter with you?” Lootchee shouted as he hopped out of his smashed-up Mercedes. “You done gone crazy or something?”

  Beijing was unfazed as she met him face-to-face in the middle of the street, not one ounce of fear on her face.

  “Yeah,” she shot back, “for believing in a no-good, selfish, lying-ass bastard like you! I hope you had fun with your childish games and your beyotch over there.” She gestured to the girl in the passenger seat of Lootchee’s car, speaking in a controlled, calm voice. She paused a second before continuing screaming, “Because I’m done with yo’ trifling ass. You don’t have to worry about getting the time of day or all the shit you can eat out of me,” she added with an acid tongue.

  “I’m sorry” was all Lootchee managed to say.

  “I know you are, you sorry bastard.” She took a bottle that was on the curb and hummed it at him. “Sorry motherfucker!” Beijing walked over to her rental car and got in it. As she drove away the bumper of the Charger fell off.

  CHAPTER 35

  Happy Birthday

  Beijing drove back to the airport but was not able to get a flight back to Charlotte, because everything was oversold, so she had no choice but to spend the night in Texas. As she made her way across town to the Tabby it seemed like every single radio commercial was promoting Lootchee’s birthday bash. She would have never known anything about his birthday extravaganza had she not popped up into Texas unannounced. Tears formed in Beijing’s eyes at the thought that Lootchee had planned on celebrating his birthday without her.

  From the time she left Lootchee he kept calling but she never did answer his calls, not one time. Once she was in her room, she kept listening to the song by Miles Jaye, “I’ve been a Fool for You,” thinking of Lootchee but she didn’t call him. After crying herself to sleep she woke up with a new perspective. No longer did she want Lootchee to love her, now she only wanted revenge. She sat up in the middle of the bed and the wheels began to turn.

  First she decided to check her messages. There were a couple of calls from clients that she had somehow missed and the rest were from Lootchee asking her to please call him. The final message was from Lootchee: “I’m sorry about everything that has happened but I just wanted to apologize for all my bullshit. Everything you said about me—you were right and I want to apologize, for real.” He sounded sincere. “I know shit doesn’t look good for me right now but I know if you gave me another chance to do right, I would. I really hope you allow me to prove myself. If you ever cared about me, I’d ask you to give me just one more shot to prove myself.”

  Beijing listened.

  “I’m having a birthday party at Club Celestial, a real party this time and it would mean the world to me if you could come.”

  Beijing listened to the message several more times and could hear the humbleness in his voice.

  It was a catch-22 situation; on one hand she wanted to get all dressed up and be knockout gorgeous and go to Lootchee’s party to make
him regret that he ever crossed her but on the other hand she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

  She was beyond mad or angry, then an inner voice spoke to her, “Why in the hell are you crying like a punk? Don’t get mad! Get even.” And that’s exactly what she planned to do. She jumped up and called Dazzle to put her plan into motion.

  “Hey girl, I need a favor.”

  “Anything for you.”

  “Look, I need you to get on the first thing smoking to Dallas.”

  “No problem,” Dazzle agreed.

  Men and women alike were staring at the beautiful beauty as she walked up to the velvet rope wearing a one-piece jumpsuit. It was hugging her curves like a wrapper on a Hershey’s Kiss. She sashayed with grace past the block-long line, with a big, gorgeous gift-wrapped velvet box in her hand, straight to the man holding the VIP list.

  The guy looked her over and said, “Ain’t no doubt you fine as a motherfucker but if yo’ name ain’t on the list, there is nothing that I can do for you. What’s your name?”

  “My name ain’t really important, I’m with Beijing Lee.”

  Everybody who worked at the club and who worked the event knew that Beijing was at the top of the VIP list and knew that Lootchee would be elated that she showed but Dazzle held her own. The guy looked her up and down. As scrumptious as she looked, the guy would have let her in regardless. But he told her, “Y’all at the top of the list. I’m glad I didn’t have to turn you away.” He motioned for her to be let past the velvet rope and into the club.

  Turning heads the entire way to the exclusive VIP, she kept asking people where Lootchee was. Lootchee had been notified the minute she stepped foot into the club. It didn’t take long for them to cross paths. He approached her.

  “You must be Lootchee,” she said in a sensual voice. “My name is Dazzle. I’m a friend of Beijing’s. She asked me to bring a gift to you.”