by Zuri Day
Sho Nuff turned around. “Oh, yeah right. You’re on guard duty.”
Something about the way he made this statement put a period at the end of this conversation. “Good seeing you, dog.” Alex’s look delivered the rest of the message. Exit stage away from me.
Sho Nuff nodded as he turned around, throwing an “it’s all good” over his shoulder before walking away.
Alex took a deep breath to relax, focusing all of his senses on the present moment. He took in how the PV Lounge, which had been rented out for this private party, had been transformed into a winter wonderland. White lights twinkled throughout the cozy space, and floor-to-ceiling beautifully decorated Christmas trees anchored both sides of the room. A few of the revelers wore Santa hats, and black, red, and silver were the popular dress colors of choice. The smell of cinnamon and freshly cut pine mixed with the undeniable odor of another green leaf popular among rappers. He watched the dance floor fill up as the DJ, who’d been blending holiday classics with today’s hits all evening, rocked TLC’s “Sleigh Ride.” Looking to his right, he watched Marlon hold court better than Prince Harry. The object of his affection had been offered a seat and was chatting with him while the two chicks rolling with her stood to the side and made overt attempts to be noticed. Alex thought that if Sistah-Girl Number One flung that Indian hair any harder she might lose a track. If Sistah-Girl Number Two sneezed, her girls would spill over the low-cut fire-red catsuit that hugged her body like a long-lost relative. Meanwhile, the woman he’d watched from the time she arrived sat there looking poised and unaffected by all the hip-hop hype. Her “less is more” fashion statement made her stand out from the rest.
A movement to his left shifted his attention once again. A handsome, dark-skinned, well-dressed man known to be one of the Dirty D’s top drug dealers strolled into the area, with two scowling, shaded goons by his side. His smile was bright as he reached Marlon’s table, gave the man dap, and eyed the ladies. Across the room, another man also watched the drug dealer’s every move, a frown on his face as he whispered to the woman beside him. Ah, hell. Alex sat up in his seat, surreptitiously checked the readability of his weapon, and prayed that the “very merry” that Lisa, Chilli, and T-Boz so eloquently sang about could last throughout the night.
Carol Robbins, former personal assistant and current best friend to the world’s number one R&B and pop star, Gabriella, was second-guessing her decision to attend this party. Traveling the world with her BFF for the past five years had given her more than enough opportunities to rub shoulders and hobnob with celebrities, attend the best gatherings, eat the finest hors d’oeuvres, and drink the best champagne. The time she’d spent back in her hometown of Detroit, Michigan, had been a blessing. Totally involved with her work for an upcoming community center, she didn’t miss the fast lane at all. So when her childhood twin friends Brandi and Brianna had told her about their invites to a hip-hop superstar’s private Christmas party, she’d quickly declined. But they’d persisted. She knew that part of this was because she was their friend, but an even bigger reason is because she knew Marlon and could get them past the velvet rope and into the VIP section. They’d been right. Shortly after having their names and IDs checked and entering the main part of the club, they’d been summoned to the section that had been marked off as Marlon’s sole domain.
“Oh my God,” Brandi gushed, beside herself with starstruck joy. “Mr. President is fine as hell! He looks way better in person.” She stretched her neck, trying to catch more glimpses of him from the table several feet away where they’d been seated. Hard to do since the man of honor was always surrounded by a throng. “Ooh, I’d do anything to be with him!”
Carol gave Brandi a look. “Trust me. He can tell.”
“What?” Brandi’s face was a look of innocence as she jiggled her boobs together for an even more prominent display.
“Girl, please calm your hot butt down.” Brianna flipped her hair as she flirted with one of the drug dealer’s henchmen. “Brother man ain’t trying to hook up with a woman who has three kids, especially when one is not even six months old.”
“Hmph. Spoken like a woman with no kids. Anybody with babies knows that mamas are sexy. See what I mean?”
The women looked over just in time to see the drug dealer lift a tumbler in Brandi’s direction.
“You do not want to go there,” Carol warned. “Stacks is as coldblooded as they come and from what I hear, his common law wifey isn’t much better.”
“Yvette?” Brandi calmly eyed her nails. “Nobody’s scared of that round-the-way wench.”
“Hey, Carol. Did you ever hit that?” Brianna nodded in Marlon’s direction.
“You asked that out loud? Seriously?”
“Don’t sit there trying to act all holier-than-thou. There’s no way you spent all those years on the road and didn’t kick it with any of those brothahs.”
Carol chose not to answer. To argue with either of the twins was a study in how to waste one’s breath.
“Everybody’s not like you, sister,” Brandi said, reaching for the peppermint martini she’d just been given. “Dang, this is good! You’ve got to love a brother who throws a party with an open bar!”
Brianna reached for the glass. “Let me taste it.”
“No, I’m drinking all of this.”
“You just said the drinks were free. Why are you acting so stingy? I just want to try it; see if I want to maybe order one.”
“Get your own!”
The sisters continued their usual bickering. Meanwhile, Carol sipped her sparkling Moscato, eyed the crowd, and thought back to her last conversation with Marlon. He’d asked about Gabriella, as she knew he would. That was probably the main reason that he’d invited her into his exclusive domain. The world’s number one hip-hop artist and number one pop star darling had been an item for a hot minute, before Gabriella’s father put down his overly controlling foot. Carol thought the romance had been as genuine as one could be between two superstar teens. Gabriella was now married, but Marlon still went through women like Serena did tennis rackets. She also pondered Brianna’s statement about dating on the road. There had been this one guy she’d found quite attractive, a bodyguard who used to work for the man who became Gabriella’s husband. But a situation went down and things hadn’t work out. The last she’d heard he worked for Marlon, which is why when they’d first entered the club, Carol had scanned the room on the off chance he’d be here. She even did a once around the crowded dance floor to squelch her curiosity. He wasn’t there and she was disappointed. Carol quickly buried that emotion. The spark between her and Alex was out before it flamed good.
The evening continued and soon Carol began to genuinely enjoy herself. Having been burned out from so many years on the road, she was a bit surprised to realize that a part of her had actually missed this: the partying, hobnobbing, and high-class fun. She talked more with Marlon, even danced with Sho Nuff. By midnight the twins had disappeared. She thought that she’d spotted Brandi on the dance floor. But Brianna? Carol imagined her kindhearted but hot-blooded friend was having a more intimate party in a private room. Carol only hoped it wasn’t with drug-slinging Stacks.
The music changed again, this time with the DJ playing one of Mr. President’s popular songs. The dance floor filled; those in the VIP section danced where they stood. Carol swayed in her seat, happy that one, she’d been talked into coming, and two, she had finally been able to shake the eerie vibe she’d had all night—that someone was watching her.
“. . . ’tis the season to be jolly,” Marlon rapped, his hit from last year’s Hip-Hop Holiday album blaring through the speakers.
Carol agreed. Time to show this crowd what I’m working with! She finished her drink and prepared to stand, ready to get her party on. There was barely time for her mind to register that gunshots had been fired before she was quickly, roughly slammed to the floor.
Chapter 2
Carol couldn’t catch her breath. She trie
d not to panic as she found her face mere inches from the hardwood floor. Hard to do with gunshots ringing out, people screaming, presumably running to exits. All while she was pinned down. Who is on top of me? I’ve got to get out! She began flailing her arms and legs, the only parts of her body she could move, and screaming.
“Stop it! Don’t move!” The command was delivered close to her ear—urgent, forceful—in a voice she vaguely recognized.
More shots rang out. The man (or boulder, depending on one’s perspective) grunted.
He’d barely moved, just cursed under his breath, but Carol’s fear had put her mind in hyper alert. “Are you okay?”
“There’s a door behind us, leads out back to an alley.” Alex spoke quickly and quietly, through clenched teeth. “Stay low to the floor. Don’t raise your head. Don’t stop moving until you’re safely outside.”
“My purse—”
“Leave it! I’m trying to save your life. Now, go!”
He’d barely rolled off her before Carol—purse in hand—slid across the floor. Most people had instinctively run toward the front exit, so there was little crowd in the direction she headed. Pumped with adrenaline, she couldn’t feel the nails, splinters, or whatever sharp objects she’d later notice had torn up her legs. All she could think of was safety and freedom, and the door Alex mentioned represented just that. She didn’t raise her head, but she did notice a slight red shadow across the floor. The exit sign. She rose to her knees to cover the remaining few feet, and after looking left and right stood and bolted for the door.
It was a frigid night, the temperature near zero, and her warm, expensive fur had been coat checked. It would be several minutes before she even realized that she was cold. She left the deserted alley, moving as fast as she could in snow and high heels over to a row of parked cars. Ducking between two of them, she stopped to catch her breath. While it seemed life was moving in slow motion, less than a minute had passed.
Oh my God! What just happened? Frantic, she pulled a cell phone from her purse. Hands shaky, fingers quickly freezing and becoming stiff, she could barely connect with Brianna’s phone.
“Carol! Girl, where are you?”
“O-o-outside. Where are you?”
“We’re over in the restaurant.”
“Brandi’s with you?”
“Yeah, but it’s crazy! People were pushing, shoving, and knocking each other down trying to get in here. So they’ve locked the doors. It’s freezing out there. Do you see the limo?”
“I can’t see anything. I’m hiding behind a car!” Conversation was interrupted as sirens blared. “Ooh, thank goodness. The police are here.”
“Come around to the restaurant.” Brianna was talking fast; she, too, excited with fright. “Me and Brandi will come outside.”
As soon as she stood, Carol began shaking uncontrollably. She barely made it to where the twins stood, sometimes leaning against the cars that lined the street for support. Reunited, the friends fell into each other’s arms and enjoyed a group hug, rubbing each other’s arms and huddling for warmth.
“Oh my God,” Brianna exclaimed. “I can’t believe that just happened.”
“All I heard were gunshots.” Brandi’s eyes filled with tears. “Next thing I knew folk were in my back and I was literally being pushed toward the door. I almost fell. . . .”
Carol turned to comfort her friend, looking at the scene before her as if in a dream. Lights flashing. Patrol cars everywhere. Ambulances, too. Officers darting between buildings with guns drawn. Yellow tape quickly being wrapped around buildings like crude Christmas ribbon. As she continued to glance around, looking into the eyes of people as disoriented as she was, a thought jolted her even more than the weather. Back in the club, who’d helped her? Why did his voice sound so familiar?
“Carol!”
All three women turned to see a Hummer stretch limo idling several feet away. “Who’s that?” Brianna asked, removing the arms that were covering her cleavage even though her heels were planted in snow.
The limo rolled a couple feet closer. “Carol! Y’all get in here!”
Brianna was the first to move with Brandi right behind her. Carol was more cautious, trying to identify who was in the car before stepping too close. She wasn’t sure who or what was behind the shooting tonight. For all they knew he might be in that Hummer, looking for hostages to negotiate a deal.
“Brianna, wait!”
Carol made a quick move to grab her friend. She slipped on a patch of ice and for the second time that night found her face meeting surface. One of the guys in the limo was out in a flash, scooping her up and loading her inside the vehicle. Panic set in again, but before she could scream or scratch out the guy’s eyes, Mr. President called her name.
“Carol! Chill!”
“Marlon.” Relief swept through her and with it the gravity of all that had happened. She fell into his arms.
“Baby, you’re freezing! Y’all, take off your coats, jackets, whatever and cover them up.” The men quickly scrambled to obey his order. “Shh, it’s going to be all right. You’re all right now.”
Carol immediately pushed herself up and away from comforting yet roaming hands. “Thanks, Marlon. I’m getting warmer now.” She scooted over and looked out the window as more ambulances arrived, and called for their limo.
Brianna cuddled closer to the man whose leather jacket now appeared to swallow her whole. “Did you see who was shooting?”
“I didn’t see nothing,” a third man said, in a way that suggested whatever one may have witnessed should be kept to oneself.
“I knew I should have installed a metal detector,” Marlon hissed, with a shake of his head. “Fools always got to be tripping. Can’t even put their beefs on pause for the holidays.”
The driver interrupted. “Looks like somebody’s bullet met its mark. I see stretchers.”
Carol threw off the leather coat she’d been given, her mind immediately going to the angel who’d shielded her. “Let me out. I need to see whose hurt.”
Marlon grabbed her arm. “Hold on, Carol. Don’t go out there right now.”
“Why not?” she asked, jerking her arm away.
The guy who’d swooped her up—bald head, big lips, and beard, looking like a twenty-first century version of Mr. T—leaned forward. “Police are crawling all over, baby girl; asking questions, looking for witnesses.” His voice belied his hefty stature. It was soft, raspy, coming through lips that barely moved. “You don’t want to get caught up in this.”
“I’m already caught up in it, and I have nothing to hide. I need to see who’s injured. Now let me out of this car.”
Marlon sighed. “Give her your jacket, man.”
Heart in throat, Carol quickly walked over to get as close as she could, which was the edge of the police tape. A crowd huddled there, but she maneuvered her way through until she was up front, just in time to see them carting a seemingly badly injured young man into an ambulance. There was blood seeping through the sheet that covered him and an oxygen mask over his face. She let out a breath. From his slender stature she deduced that this wasn’t him. The man who’d covered her felt like he weighed a ton. She’d guess he was 200 pounds at least, maybe more.
Two more people were brought out on stretchers: a woman moaning loudly and asking about her baby, and a man who used his arm to shield his face. He had the girth, but as Carol peered closer she noted a beard. The man who’d whispered harshly in her ear had no heavy facial hair. Just as an onslaught of shivering had her looking to see if their limo had arrived, out came another stretcher. A hefty looking man conversed with the officer who walked beside him.
Carol shifted to get a closer look. Is that . . . ? No, couldn’t be. Alex?
“Alex!” He turned his head toward the sound of her voice. Their eyes met. “Alex!” She pushed through the tape but was immediately blocked from going farther by a hard chest and firm hand.
“Stand back, ma’am,” the police brusquely c
ommanded.
“I need to get to that ambulance!”
The officer holding her arm had other plans.
“Where are you taking him?” she yelled to the medic. He didn’t look over; didn’t answer. Just entered the ambulance and turned on the siren. Then they were gone.
Chapter 3
Carol raced to Marlon’s limo, still idling nearby. “Is Alex still working for you?” she asked as soon as the door was opened.
Marlon nodded.
“That’s why we’re waiting,” Mr. T. informed her.
“He’s been shot. I saw him on a stretcher.”
A round of expletives spewed from the men’s mouths. “Call him,” Marlon commanded. “Find out where he is.”
“There’s our limo,” Brandi said, pointing toward a white stretch coming down the street.
No one responded. Everyone watched as Mr. T. placed the call.
“Where is he?” Carol demanded after the call ended. Mr. T. told her. “Let’s go,” she said to the twins as she scrambled out of the borrowed jacket.
Brianna gave back the coat she was wearing. “What about my coat? It’s still in the club.”
“We’ll get them tomorrow! Come on!”
Brandi shifted to become even closer to her newfound man. “You go on without us. Brianna and I have our ride home.”
Carol didn’t have time to argue. She was on a mission. As soon as she entered the limo they’d rented, she said, “Take me to Grace Hospital. Get me there as fast as you can!”
They arrived at the hospital and because she was not a relative, Carol could get no news. Shortly after her arrival, one of Marlon’s other bodyguards came in. Together they waited for what seemed like hours, with snatches of small talk passing between them. Among other things she learned his name was Eric, that he was from Plainfield, New Jersey, that he’d worked for Marlon for about two years, and that he and Alex had become good friends. Finally, after Eric went to the nurse’s station for a meaningful heart-to-heart, they were given Alex’s room number and allowed to go back there.