Red Light Special

by Risqué

  Kenyatta paused while he took his second swing. For a brief moment he thought about telling Bless the truth about Eve, about Monday, about everything. Hell, he needed somebody to confess to. But as quickly as the thought came, he changed his mind. “The bullshit-ass case an ex-employee has against me.”

  “The one you fired?” Bless said, not looking up as he swung.

  “Yeah, Charles.”

  “Why’d you fire him?”

  “Look, I’ll put it to you like this. He was in my business too much, and had he stayed on, there would be no kickbacks and shit. Understand?”

  “Well, damn,” Bless laughed as they walked toward the hole. “I guess that niggah had to go.”

  “Exactly. Which is why at least for a while the next set of contracts will have to be legitimate. I don’t want any shit.”

  “I understand.”

  For the next two hours they played golf, each of them declaring that he’d beaten the other. Afterward they headed back inside to the bar, where Kenyatta had one too many.

  “It’s a good thing I’m not driving,” Kenyatta said, taking his third shot of Patrón to the head and chasing it with a Heineken.

  “How’d you get here?”

  “I have a driver waiting.”

  “Oh, ai’ight. Must be nice.”

  “Yeah, I guess. Before all this bullshit with Eve, I had a driver by choice. Now I need that motherfucker.”

  “Eve?” Bless slowly sipped his beer. “The one in the paper?”

  “Yeah…” Kenyatta’s voice trailed off.

  “So what happened with that?”

  “With what?”

  “Eve.”

  Kenyatta leaned in toward Bless on both elbows. The heavy smell of beer on his breath flooded Bless’ nose. “She was a ho.”

  “A ho? The fuck-anything-movin’-type ho or a working ho?”

  “A call girl. One of Collyn’s chicks. This chick used to suck dick like you wouldn’t believe.”

  “Damn.”

  “Yeah, and after a few paid dates I started getting inside this chick’s head, hitting her with a buncha sweet bullshit, and the next thing I know she was fuckin’ me for free.”

  “For free?”

  “The fuck free.” He sipped his beer. “I swear, a sincere-sounding ‘I love you’ does wonders for a desperate broad.”

  “Damn, sounds like you the man.”

  “Shiiiit, please.” Kenyatta paused. Eve’s bloody face filled his mind.

  “Kenyatta?” Bless called. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Ai’ight, so finish the story. What happened to her?”

  Kenyatta hesitated. “Damn if I know.”

  “You think she’ll ever come back?”

  “Nah…I don’t think so.”

  Mehki had become Monday’s reliable stress reliever. For the past three weeks she’d come again to enjoy his company, value his opinions, and the more she rekindled her friendship with him, laughed, and politicked with him, the more she realized that she was losing her desire for the public life. She wanted a change, and not one that required her to run away and become someone else. But one where she made choices for herself, and if she fucked up, she was the one affected by it, not an entire city.

  Nevertheless, that didn’t stop her heart from longing for Kenyatta. She felt obligated to him, as if she owed him something, and no matter how many chills shot up her spine as Mehki’s moist and long tongue stroked her clit in precise movements, she never forgot she was Kenyatta’s wife.

  As they lay in a sixty-nine position Monday placed her hands on Mehki’s knees and took him into her mouth. She’d tried at least a thousand times since they’d been fucking on a regular basis to give him a sweet head job, but his dick was simply too big to all fit in her mouth. But this time as she relaxed her throat and eased him in inch by inch, she was able to deep throat all of him.

  “Monday,” he licked her clit, “damn you sucking the hell outta this dick,” he lifted his hips a bit so that she would be able to maintain his shaft between her heated lips.

  After a few moments of blessing each other with head jobs and they were both ready to cum, their cell phones rang simultaneously.

  They ignored them as Mehki said, “Smear it on my face,” he moaned as a cell phone rang again. Mehki loved the smell of Monday’s pussy and the way her cream felt against his skin. Grinding her hips, she rubbed her liquid all over his face, his eyes, his chin, his lips. Then she turned around and proceeded to kiss every sweet and sticky inch of him.

  Afterward she opened her legs wide, and his body became one with hers. Monday gasped. Once again his size caught her off guard. He twirled her nipples. “If you keep riding my dick like this, in a minute you gon’ be divorced.”

  “Hell, sometimes life needs change.”

  “Don’t play with me.”

  “Who said that I was?” She took both her legs, wrapped them around his neck, and bounced on his dick, her ass caressing his entire shaft.

  Her phone was ringing again. As soon as hers stopped, his started, almost as if they were in a competition.

  Monday stopped midstroke. “Maybe we oughta get that.”

  “Fuck that.” Mehki rolled her over so that he now lay on top. He took her legs and threw them on the side of his shoulder, then took his dick and came all over her ass. Mehki collapsed onto Monday’s chest and rolled to the side of her. Monday stroked his cheek and said, “Why do I always have to be in the wet spot?”

  Mehki chuckled. But before he could say anything, first one and then the other phone started ringing again. “Seriously,” Monday said, “we need to get those.” She reached for her purse while Mehki got out of bed and walked over to his dresser. As they each flipped their phones open and said hello concurrently, they hushed each other because they’d said hello too loudly.

  “This is what the fuck I’m talking about.” Kenyatta complained. “Where are you?” Monday’s eyes scanned the room as she gathered the sheet over her breasts. She looked at Mehki’s bare back and swinging dick as he walked across the room, holding the cell phone to his ear, and she said, “I’m where I wanna be.”

  “Monday, I promise you if you don’t tell me where you are, whenever I see you it’s gon’ be a misunderstanding.”

  Tuning Kenyatta out, Monday listened to what Mehki was saying: “I need to get there now?” He tilted his head and looked at her apologetically. “I need to get there right now? All right, I’ll be there.”

  Tuning back into her conversation, Monday said to Kenyatta, “Look, I don’t have time for this shit.”

  “Why, ’cause you with some niggah right now? Don’t think I haven’t noticed that your ass been acting real foul.”

  “Look, Kenyatta, I do not have time. What do you want?”

  “I need you to get your ass over here and act like the mayor’s wife. Some shit just went down and I need you right now.”

  As Monday hung up Mehki looked her way. “I take it that was your husband.”

  “Damn, I do have one of those,” Monday said sarcastically. “Glad you reminded me.”

  Mehki laughed. “That was Hudson. It looks like it’s gray suit and pearls time again.”

  Monday’s heart sank into her chest. She’d almost forgotten about that. “What the hell is going on?”

  Mehki studied Monday’s face before he spoke. “Eve Johnson’s diary was found, and it implicated Kenyatta…as her lover.”

  “That was found a minute ago.”

  “I know, but apparently there were some pictures found too.”

  “Of them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Together?”

  “Yes, and apparently it’s all over the media—reporters are calling City Hall, the mansion, and so on. It looks like we need to go to the mansion and see how this needs to be handled.”

  “Damn!” Monday exploded. “I’m sick of that shit! He’s never been fuckin’ faithful, and every time I turn around it’s always som
e shit with this bitch! This same fuckin’ bitch! I wish she would just fuckin’ die! I’m sick of his cheating ass.”

  Mehki looked at Monday, taken aback. “So, you gon’ kill the messenger?”

  “No. But you don’t know how it feels to have to go on TV in front of the world and be the dumbest ride-or-die bitch they’ve ever seen. Know what?” Monday pulled her knees to her chest. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

  Mehki walked over to Monday, “You’re welcome to stay here because I would love to come home to you in my bed. But you know I have to go. So make yourself at home. I’ll be back in an hour, two hours tops, and we can chill.” He grabbed a towel and headed into the bathroom.

  Monday could hear the water beating against the tile in the shower as her back rested against the cool wall. She picked up the television remote. The midday news was of course talking about Kenyatta and the latest in the Eve Johnson scandal.

  They showed pictures of Eve as well as previous press conferences and written statements where Kenyatta had said different things about the same situation.

  Tears leaked from Monday’s eyes. She no longer heard the commentator’s voice; she could only see the pictures of herself, standing next to Kenyatta as he lied. She was tired of going back and forth, but he was still her husband.

  Monday rose from the bed and grabbed her clothing. She opened the bathroom door, and Mehki was standing there, completely dressed in a gray suit. “You changed your mind?”

  She pressed her lips against his and whispered, “I am the mayor’s wife.”

  Monday walked in through the front door, leaving an ocean of reporters out by the security gate. When she pushed the door open to her bedroom, Kenyatta was standing there with Hudson, who was in Monday’s walk-in closet, searching through her things.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Monday snapped as she watched Hudson pull her gray suit out of the closet and lay it on the bed.

  “Don’t worry about what she’s doing!” Kenyatta snarled. “She’s on her damn job, unlike your ass, which I called over an hour ago.”

  Monday ignored Kenyatta and instead turned to Hudson and said, “Why the hell are you in my closet?”

  “I was just trying to help out.”

  “I don’t need your damn help!”

  “Are you ignoring me, Monday?” Kenyatta paced in disbelief. It was obvious that he was nervous, “Anyway, that isn’t even important right now. What’s important is that the authorities found some bogus-ass pictures and a diary that this bitch Eve wrote about me.” He shook his head. “I can’t keep doing this.”

  Hudson turned to him and said, “Kenyatta, we will rise above this. You cannot let this get you down.”

  Before Kenyatta could comment, there was a knock at the door, and they all turned around. It was Mehki. “You mind if I come in?”

  “Yeah, come on,” Kenyatta said. “We have to get our story straight before we go to the FBI.”

  Taken aback, Mehki said, “What are we going to see the FBI for? I thought we were just going to do a press conference.”

  “We have one scheduled right after this.” Hudson stepped in. “This is about the best political move he can make. There have been a lot of things coming up and hitting us pretty hard, and in order to get past this, we need to have the mayor go and speak with the agents as if he has nothing to hide. The people will love that.”

  “Wait a minute—wait a minute,” Mehki said. “What are you talking about, going down to the FBI? They haven’t called to question him. They haven’t even been here.” Mehki turned to Kenyatta. “And what are you going to say to the FBI?”

  “Look, I have to clear my name. Reporters have been calling me all day.” He turned to look at Monday, thinking of how long he’d been trying to get in touch with her. “And all of this shit is just becoming a little too much.”

  “That’s why,” Hudson said, “we’re going down to the FBI for him to voluntarily make a statement, so this way they will think he has nothing to hide. We will regain the people’s trust, and we can move on.”

  Mehki looked at Hudson strangely. “As your attorney,” he said to Kenyatta, “I don’t advise you to do that. I mean, come on. We all are attorneys here, so certainly someone understands where I’m coming from. Going down to the FBI makes absolutely no sense. What are you going to go down there for? To perjure yourself?”

  “No one said anything about perjury,” Hudson insisted. “This is not about perjury. This is about political positioning.”

  “No, this is not about political positioning,” Mehki snapped, “this is about committing a federal crime! Furthermore, it was a diary. You haven’t even seen it nor do you know what it says. And you don’t even know if you are in those photos. But you are going to break-dance down to the FBI’s office, and for what? You’re going to make a statement for what reason? Trust me—if they want you, they will find you. You don’t have to look for them!”

  Hudson interrupted him and said sternly to Kenyatta, “As your chief of staff, I know that we have the ability to rise above this and regain the people’s trust. And in order to regain their trust we have to show that we have nothing to hide. Besides, being mayor is just a stepping-stone. Kenyatta has the talent and the leadership ability to go all the way to the top.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” Kenyatta interjected.

  Monday waved, “Kenyatta do you hear how ridiculous you sound?”

  “What the hell!” Kenyatta snapped. “And you supposed to be my wife? And every time I need you to support me, you always off on some bullshit. Let me tell you something, I am a great mayor.”

  “Yes you are,” Hudson chimed in.

  “I proposed to cut property taxes, I raised the school budget, built more houses in the poor areas, opened more job programs, more local parks, free camps, and all sorts of shit. I paid my dues and I’m not gon’ let some dead bitch—”

  Monday shook her head, there it was again.

  “Fuck up everything,” Kenyatta continued, “I worked hard for.”

  “Exactly.” Hudson smiled in admiration, “Exactly.”

  As they walked into the federal building Hudson held her cell phone to her ear. “Everything has been arranged,” she said to Kenyatta. “We just need to ask for Agent Jones and Agent West in the Missing Persons Squad.”

  They walked into the interrogation room, where the agents were already sitting. Everyone shook hands and then took their seats.

  “Thank you for coming down here,” Agent Jones said. “We sincerely appreciate it. And we just want you to know that everything we say in this room will be recorded.”

  “Okay,” Kenyatta said, clearing his throat. “That’s not a problem. I just came down here so that I can clear my name.” He cleared his throat again and his voice began to sound mechanical. “I come humbly before you to extend my sympathy to the family of this missing person, Eve, because a man such as myself is always willing to get the truth out there. I just want to address some things that have been in the media, especially since I’m such a stand-up person and have nothing to hide. And I wanted to address some of the bullshit that ho wrote about me.”

  Mehki cleared his throat and placed his hand on Kenyatta’s shoulder. “What I meant was,” Kenyatta said, “the diary is some bull—some nonsense. And the pictures. I’m sure they aren’t of me.” The FBI agent slid the pictures to Kenyatta. They were of him and Eve entering a hotel lobby. “That could’ve been at a political event.” They slid him another photo of them kissing. Kenyatta cleared his throat, “Gentlemen, I bid you farewell.”

  He rose from his seat, but Agent Jones said, “Excuse me, Mayor, but we just want to ask you a few more questions if you don’t mind.”

  “Perhaps we should cut this short,” Mehki said.

  “We won’t be long, Counselor.” Agent Jones insisted, “surely such a great mayor doesn’t mind helping us to clear things up.”

  “No.” Kenyatta sat back down. “Not at all.”

&n
bsp; “Well,” Agent Jones said, “we appreciate you coming down here and taking time from your busy schedule. You know, being humble and all.”

  “Excuse me.” Kenyatta looked around the room. “Are you mocking me?” Mehki placed his hand back on Kenyatta’s shoulder.

  “No sir,” the agent went on. “We would never do such a thing. We just wanted you to answer a few things and then you may go.”

  “Ai’ight, go ahead…I mean, proceed.”

  “Thank you, Mayor Smith. So did you or did you not have an affair with Eve Johnson?”

  “I’ve already addressed that issue.”

  “Okay, sir, do you know a retired cop by the name of Tracy Robinson?”

  Kenyatta blinked and his heart thundered in his chest. “No.”

  Monday’s palms began to sweat, there was that name again.

  “Okay, so,” the agent continued, “let me ask you this. Did you have an affair with Collyn Bazemore?”

  Monday’s neck jerked. Collyn’s was the last name she expected to hear. Scared of what might come from the agent’s mouth next, she started biting her bottom lip.

  “Collyn?” Kenyatta said, taken aback. “Hell no.”

  “Okay, uh…what about Taryn. Taryn Bazemore?”

  “Taryn?” Kenyatta hesitated. “No.”

  “Okay, so what about Geneva Thompson?”

  “Geneva Thompson,” Kenyatta said distantly. “Never heard of her.”

  The agents looked at Monday and then back at each other.

  “I don’t know what motherfuckin’ game you playin’,” Kenyatta spat, “but this interview is over with.”

  Acting as if he’d never said a word, they continued on. “And what about Hudson James?”

  The entire room looked at Hudson as Monday gasped.

  Instantly Kenyatta exploded. “How the fuck y’all gon’ ask me some shit like that in front of my wife? Disrespecting me and shit! Y’all motherfuckers don’t know Kenyatta Smith.”

  “Ooo-kay,” Mehki said, “let’s go, ladies.” He grabbed Kenyatta by the arm. “We need to leave now.”

  “Nah, nah!” Kenyatta snatched the buttons open on his double-breasted suit jacket.