Thoughts in her head felt like they were in water, sloshing around. Nothing made sense. Not even the sound of a voice saying, “Can you still walk? Don’t be afraid. I’ll get you some help.” Someone was handling her, picking her up. Carrying her. She was light as air. Like a feather moving through the cool morning air. It was the last thing Neema recalled.
SIXTEEN
One monkey don’t stop the show. It was Topps Jackson’s personal mantra, and he lived by it. He had an hour before he had to drive to Kinsley Elementary and pick up Brandon and Raynita. That was all the time he needed to give Gina, his second main squeeze, a good joy ride.
Thanks to him, Gina had a bomb place to kick it. Her Baldwin Hills condo was small, but nicely furnished with the best of everything: large plasma televisions; oriental rugs and top-of-the-line Italian furniture. Imported. Not to be confused with cheap imitations. Not one soul knew about the place except for he and Gina, and he planned to keep that way. Plus, it was a hop and skip away from Neema’s crib, and ten minutes from his kids’ school. He had everything he needed: good sex, a safe place to rest his head, a freezer full of food, and access to any alcohol or drug that he could possibly want. Of course he didn’t need anything to cloud his head or get in the way of what he had in mind for Gina.
He’d been knowing Gina for a good six months after scoping her out at a nightclub. Hell, the same one where he’d met Neema. Gina had tried to play that hard-to-get shit in the beginning, but that didn’t last. Topps smiled thinking about how money attracted pussy and pussy attracted money. It was all about the “Monussy.” Money was how he had hooked up with Neema, too.
He shook his head thinking about Neema. A spell of disappointment tried to invade him. His girl was playing out and Gina was next in line as her replacement. Neema didn’t know it, but the delivery he’d sent her on was more than her last; it was a set-up. Sent her straight into the hands of one of his enemies with poison powder. Instant death. The receiver would take one test snort of the white powder and collapse, then kill Neema for bringing it. The plan was brilliant. Even his righthand man Slick hadn’t been told what the plan was. And why should he when he and Neema were screwing behind his back. Yeah. Niggas thought I didn’t know about that, huh?
Payback is a mutha, ain’t it? First Neema, then that nigga Slick later on. They must have thought he was some dumb ass they could fool. The two fucking behind his back was one thing, but even if he had married Neema, it wouldn’t have dismissed what she knew about him and that bitch friend of hers, Kaykay. Neema was like most women—the minute she felt scorned, she would no doubt turn on him like a pit bull. Probably even drop a dime. A scorned female was dangerous in his line of business. His father’s death had taught him that much. Topps had to think about his safety and his freedom. Only a fool would leave loose ends hanging. Neema was a loose end.
“Stop daydreaming and come and get this good pussy, baby.”
“What?” Topps’ mind had been going a mile a minute. He looked up and admired her thickness. Something about a big-legged, big-eyed woman made him feel weak. Gina was his own personal Beyoncé but with shorter hair done in twists. Gina was blessed with a nice ass, too, but not as nice as Neema’s. Her breasts were higher and firmer. Plus, she’d had no babies to stretch her pussy out like Neema’s.
“You heard me,” Gina half purred in her sexy way. Shower water was still dripping from her high, rounded rear end as she strolled from the shower into the room to slather some lotion on her honey-brown body.
“Maybe a little dance might help.” Topps only had on a black-and-red smoking jacket. His manhood peeked through the satin as his body reclined on the chaise lounge in the spacious bedroom.
“Anything for my daddy.” Gina moved to her open closet and slid on a pair of red stilettos and threw a red, feather boa around her delicate neck. The feather boa covered both nipples of her “D” cups. “Let me get some music going.”
Topps stroked his swelling manhood as he lay back and watched her glide over to the Bose system to turn it on. “Paradise” by Sade filled the room. “Do yo’ thang, girl,” he cheered as Gina’s onion ass began to catch the music’s rhythm with gyrations. She was the bomb like that. She could move her body in ways that could make a blind man see naughty things. “Yeah, girl, you working that ass.” Topps felt like he was in paradise.
“You craving it?”
“Big time, for real.”
Gina was two years older than Neema, but more limber and agile. Hell, the way Gina could bend and mold herself into shapes and positions was an act that should be in Circus Ole. Topps couldn’t take his eyes off the way her head appeared between her own legs.
“Damn, you like rubber, girl.” His mouth watered as he admired the light and dark of Gina’s fuzzy feminine mound from behind. She straightened her body and turned to face him as she sat at the bed’s edge.
“Yeah, like that. Now do slow motion for me.”
“Like this?” Gina moved slowly along the bed’s edge, gyrating her hips. She gave him a wide leg flash of her wet, pink sweetness before putting her shapely legs up in the air.
“That’s it, girl. Damn, you so nasty. You got me harder than a damn coliseum full of jawbreakers.” He could barely control himself, watching Gina lay back on the bed and run that red boa over her swollen clit like she didn’t have a shame in the world.
“Looks like you been a bad girl,” Topps said, moving to where she lay, flipping her over. A few open hand slaps to her behind jiggled some flesh. “You one sexy bitch and you know it.” He knelt in front while she rolled onto her back. Her pink pearl was swollen in waiting and calling to him. He flicked his tongue lightly over it, causing Gina to throw her head back with a loud moan. A few more flicks and deep sucking had her begging for more. Topps wasted no time positioning himself over her, giving her every inch of himself. Just like him, Gina liked it hard and rough. Fifteen minutes later, the two collapsed side by side, but not for long. Topps hopped up and headed to the shower.
“I know you ain’t leaving me now. We got seconds coming.”
“Maybe later,” he said over his shoulder. “School is almost out. Gotta pick my kids up.”
“Thought they mama did that shit.” Gina reached for a cigarette.
One thing he hated was a woman smoking cigarettes. A blunt was one thing, but nicotine turned him off. Now she was trying to get in his business. “They staying with me for a few days.”
“Who? Yo’ baby mama?”
“Yo’, my kids, Gina. Stop sweating me.”
Gina knew about Neema, but Neema knew nothing of Gina. Hell, he was a single man who could see who the hell he wanted. Neema wouldn’t be around much longer anyway. No need for her to find out either. If his plan went right, Neema was out of the picture. If he didn’t care for his kids so much, he would have terminated Neema.
Gina rolled her eyes at him. “Does that mean they mama gonna be at your house, too? ’Cause if it’s gonna be like that, maybe I should see other men, too.”
A large bath towel around his waist, Topps left the shower water running and casually walked back over to Gina. Why was it that the beautiful women always tended to be mouthy? It was one of his pet peeves. He walked right up to her and slapped the taste from her mouth, then stood and waited for Gina to say something else he didn’t like. She didn’t.
“You got somethin’ else to say?” He stood there glaring down at her like a crazed mental patient, his eyes cold as death. “Fucking bitch, I didn’t think so. You knew the deal when we first hooked up. Maybe you forgot whose money is paying the damn bills around this mutha.”
Stunned, Gina sat there holding her face while he walked back to the bathroom for his shower.
Twenty minutes later, his shiny, black Denali with the tinted windows and twenty-one-inch, kill-me-quick rims was parked across the street from Kinsley Elementary. Topps had five minutes before the school bell sounded, and kids would be all over the place on the lookout for parents and babysi
tters. Most adults were stupid and too lazy to walk their big fat asses to pick up their kids. People like that made him sick.
A toothpick dangled in his mouth. Topps gave a good look around making sure no friend or foe was trying to slide up on him. Catch him off guard. Everything looked calm. Once the bell rang, he’d get out and cross over to keep Raynita and Brandon from crossing the street to get to his vehicle. But for now he sat listening to Akon’s upbeat tune “Trouble Nobody.”
The school bell rang. Kids running around. Kids playing. Kids yelling back and forth. Kids were everywhere. Topps got out and crossed to the front of the school where he waited like the rest of the group for teachers to walk their classes out in an orderly manner. No sign of Raynita or Brandon. He walked around looking. Still, no sign. Cars came and went. Students moved on from the right and left of him. He felt antsy with each passing second. What the hell is taking ’em so long?
Maybe they got in some trouble. He walked to the school’s front office where he asked one of the clerks if any kids were waiting in the office. Nope. None.
He took out his cell phone and dialed Brandon’s cell number. Good thing he had the foresight to give both kids their own cell phone. Both phones were sophisticated GPS tracking devices, but that was something only he and Slick knew about. It took quite a few rings before Brandon’s voice answered.
“Brandon, yo’, what’s up? I’m at the school waiting on you and yo’ sister.”
Topps’ hand clutched the cell tight enough to break it into pieces. He didn’t like what he was hearing as Brandon informed him that Hattie had picked them up early.
“But I told y’all asses that I would pick you up. Whose damn idea was that?” He felt stupid getting upset with a seven-year-old. “Fuck it. Don’t worry about it. I’m on my way to pick you and yo’ sister up. Be ready.”
SEVENTEEN
Brandon forgot to tell his grandmother that he had spoken to his father, and that Topps was on his way to get him and Raynita. He had been playing video games in the spare bedroom where he sometimes slept while staying at Hattie’s house when his cell phone had burred.
“Thought you had homework?” Hattie queried the minute Brandon strolled into her kitchen looking for a snack. She noticed right away that he had on his shoes, jacket and backpack. Raynita was taking a nap.
“I do.” Brandon was standing at her refrigerator staring inside.
“Uh…shouldn’t you be doing your homework instead of letting all the cold air out my box?” She was a stickler when it came to studying and homework, believing that a good education was the only way to succeed in the world. “Brandon, you know your mama won’t be happy about you not doing your homework.”
“She’ll get over it.”
“What?” Hattie stopped what she was doing. Maybe it was her imagination, but it seemed to her that boy was getting looser at the lips with each passing day. Not accustomed to flippant replies from children, it was consuming all her inner strength to keep from taking a belt to the boy.
“I’ll do it at Daddy’s house. He’s on his way.”
“He’s on his way? When did he call? I didn’t hear my phone ring.”
Brandon took out a carton of orange juice and got a plastic cup to pour some. “Yeah. He called my cell phone. He said for me and Nita to be ready. He sounded mad.”
“Mad, huh?” Hattie huffed. She thought about how she wouldn’t be releasing the kids to him. “Well, he’ll be more than mad when he leaves here. I’m just making some lunch. Go wake your sister up, now.”
“Do I have to?”
“Brandon, do as I say, please.”
The child was gearing up for more protest but stopped when Raynita walked into the kitchen rubbing her sleepy eyes. “Nanny, I’m hungry.”
“I’ll make some sandwiches.”
“We don’t have time for no sandwich, Nita. Daddy is coming to pick us up, and he sounded mad ’cause we didn’t wait for him after school.”
“What kind of mess is going on here?” Hattie said out loud, gathering up lunch meat, bread, mustard and lettuce. “Does your father normally pick y’all up from school?”
“No,” Raynita confirmed with a young attitude. “Mama said that no one can pick us up but you and her, and I don’t wanna go to Daddy’s house. I’m staying with Nanny.”
“I’ma tell Daddy what you said.”
“So! And I’ma tell Mama you pulled that girl’s pants down at school today.”
Brandon balled his fist. “And I’ma tell you stole money from your teacher’s desk.”
“You two stop it now!” She wanted to investigate both allegations but no, they were Neema’s kids; let her be the disciplinarian. The two had been at her house for over three hours without one squabble. Hattie knew it was too good to be true. Now she was getting a headache. “I wish your mother would come on. I got my Monday night bingo and no kids are allowed.”
The kids ate sandwiches in the kitchen while Hattie tried to call Neema’s cell phone. There was no answer, so she tried calling her apartment without luck. Frustrated, she hung up. “She’ll be here. She promised.”
Raynita whined, “I wanna wait for Mama to come. I don’t wanna go to Daddy’s house.”
Drying her hands on her apron, Hattie mused on the child’s words. It was the second time Raynita had made the statement. A statement like that seemed odd to her when most young girls had mad love for their father. “What’s wrong, Nita? You don’t like going to your daddy’s house?”
“Uh-uh. Daddy’s too mean. He fuss too much with Mama, and he hits her. I don’t like to see my mama crying. Sometimes he spanks me for nothin’, and he smokes those weeds, too. I can’t breathe too good when he smokes those weeds.”
“Daddy don’t like us telling his business, Nita. You gon’ get in trouble.”
“Brandon, hush. What else, Nita?” All ears, Hattie sat down at the table trying not to seem too eager for information. She often could detect that Raynita and Brandon both had been warned not to discuss what went on in the house. But children being children, they too had issues and concerns that needed to be vented. When it came to telling, it was always Raynita.
“Forget you, Brandon. You just mad ’cause Mama fussed at Daddy for giving you some more weeds.”
“Is that true, Brandon? Does your father give you drugs?” Hattie waited for an answer she wouldn’t get. She couldn’t imagine what kind of parent would contribute drugs to an innocent child.
“Nita, I’m telling Daddy on you.”
Brandon’s eyes were shooting daggers at his sister when Hattie’s front doorbell rang. It was the second time she’d heard of Topps giving drugs to her grandson. The more she kept telling herself that it was none of her business, to stay out of it, the angrier she became. She made a mental note to ask Neema about it. “We’ll talk about this later.” Hattie got up and headed through the living room.
She opened the thick, wooden door to find Topps Jackson standing at the opposite side of her security screen door. “Good evening.” Her pleasant face was forced.
“Ms. Hattie. Nice to see you again.” Topps had a moist cloth in his hand, wiping his hands like he’d just touched something filthy. “How you doing today?”
Even when he tried to be nice it seemed contrived. There was something too sneaky about Topps Jackson. She had never cared for him since the first time she’d met him. Neema was only sixteen, and he’d brought Neema Jean home drunk at two a.m.
“Topps. What can I do for you?” Hattie made no attempt to open her security door and invite him inside.
“Neema sent me for the kids.” He tried the knob on the security door. Locked. “What’up, can I come in?” No sweet smiles or extra pleasantries.
“I’m afraid not.” Hattie looked him up and down. The thick, gold and diamond chain around his neck had to be worth more than her car parked outside. Styling in the latest hip-hop wear, he didn’t look cheap. Didn’t smell cheap. “I don’t know what’s going on with you and Neem
a, but she called me earlier and asked me to pick the kids up early from school. She told me to keep them until she comes.”
His half-smile changed to a smirk. One eye twitched. “Old woman, I don’t have time to play games with you. Those are my kids, and I’m here to take ’em home.” Topps made an attempt to call their names through the barred door. “Y’all come on, let’s go!”
Hattie stood her ground. “Like I said, Neema wants the children to stay here with me until she comes for them. At least at my house, they won’t be traumatized with violence or be given drugs.”
“Drugs? Bitch, please. You don’t know what the hell you’re talking ’bout.”
“I’m talking about a man that’s trying to corrupt his own children.”
A grin. A few chuckles. “Look,” said Topps, shaking his head as if he found her amusing. “I’ll let all this slide if you send the kids out, so I can be on my way. Okay? You probably been hitting that juice and it’s got you talkin’ all crazy like a mutha. Brandon! Nita! Y’all come on, let’s go!”
Brandon came up behind Hattie, trying to get to the door. “Daddy, I’m coming.” Raynita eased into the room and stood looking frightened.
Hattie had no idea where her strength was coming from. “Sit down, Brandon. Your mother will be here shortly.”
Topps grabbed the metal door and shook it with all his might. He kicked it twice and spat on it. “Damn you, you fucking hag. You think I have to beg you? Give me those damn kids!” His eyes went blood red. Veins bulged from the side of his neck.
Raynita ran screaming from the room leaving Brandon standing with his fist balled up. “I wanna go with my daddy!”
“Brandon, you get yourself in that bedroom with your sister! You’ll leave when your mother comes.”
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