“Let me freshen up,” she said as she grabbed her bag and walked into the bathroom. She didn’t breathe easy until she was behind the safety of the locked door. She hurriedly opened her purse and pulled out her cell phone.
I’m up the block waiting for you. When it’s done, slide out.
Naomi read the text from Noah, feeling pressure on her back. He was depending on her and she didn’t want to let him down. Naomi looked at herself in the mirror, conflicted. It had even been her idea to do this. He hadn’t forced her hand. Naomi had wanted to prove her love to Noah and this was her grand gesture. Talking about it and actually doing it were two different things entirely, however. This was a life she was playing with and her humanity was at stake. Now that the time had come for her to bust her gun she didn’t know if she could see it through. Naomi wasn’t built for this. The honey blond wig she wore changed her appearance slightly but not enough for her comfort level. What if someone I.D.’s me? What if I leave a fingerprint behind? What if I’m sloppy? A million questions rang out in her head as she removed her clothes, revealing the dangerous curves of her body. Her gut was telling her to proceed with caution. Her intuition was warning her to stop, but she stayed the course and walked out; her only accessory was the La Perla lace that adorned her.
“Playtime,” she said.
She could see the groggy look in his eyes. The effects of the rophy had kicked in and her tension eased slightly. She had a mental one-up on him.
“Damn, my baby,” he commented as he approached her. She could see the change in his saunter. His motor skills were off too. Even better, she thought.
He couldn’t stop himself from groping her cantaloupe-sized breasts. They were full, perky, and he lowered his lips to her taut nipples as he kissed them gently.
“We don’t have to rush,” she said as she pushed him onto the bed. “I like to take things nice and slow. It’s all in the foreplay.” She spread his legs and grabbed the bedsheet. “Let me tie you up and take advantage of you.”
“Shit, you can do whatever you want looking like that,” he replied with a lust-filled tone.
Naomi started with his hands, tying them to the bedposts before she also tied his feet. His manhood stood straight up by the time she was done. The anticipation alone had him ready to blow.
“Come set that pussy on my face,” he said.
“You on one, huh?” she asked as she smirked, knowing that the drugs in his system had him extraloose. Once he was secured she stood on the bed over his face and squatted down until she was positioned directly over his mouth. “You smell that?”
“Hell yeah, smell good like a mu’fucka. Now let me taste it,” he said.
She dipped a little lower and let him kiss her clit. She gasped slightly as he slid his tongue between her lips.
“Mm-m,” he moaned.
She stood.
“What you doing? Let me get that,” he said.
“Nah,” she answered. “I just thought you deserved a little taste of the pussy that you about to die over.”
“Quit bullshitting,” he said, chuckling slightly, still not realizing how dire his situation was.
Naomi looked him dead in the eyes and the look he saw reflecting back let him know she was serious.
“Can’t just pick any ol’ bitch up in a bar,” she schooled him. Naomi wore her poker face well. He had no idea that she was just as terrified as he was. She talked a good game despite the fact that her heart felt like it would leap out of her chest. She couldn’t let him know that she was wavering. He bucked, trying to tear free from the sheets, but the drugs had his arms feeling like noodles. He was weak and drowsy.
Naomi retrieved a .22 out of her purse. She attached the silencer, her gut wrenching each time she screwed it tighter.
“I got a son,” he said as he saw her take aim. “I’m all he got.”
Naomi knew as soon as he said it that she wouldn’t be able to pull the trigger. She had a son once. He had died of SIDS before she ever got a true chance to prove she could be a good mother. Now even the sight of a baby boy took her back to devastation. She had buried that fact about herself a long time ago. No one, not even Noah, knew about that part of her life.
“Come on, Lisa. Don’t leave my son out here bold. What you want? Cash? I got bread. That’s nothing. You ain’t got to take my life over no paper—”
“Shut up!” Naomi shouted as she swayed back and forth with the gun pointed directly at him. “It’s not about the money,” she whispered. Her finger curled on the trigger. Somehow, she knew that if she pulled it she would be forever changed. The action would endear her to Noah forever, but now she wondered how she would feel about herself. “This isn’t my game. This is the one thing I can’t do.
“Take your son and get out of town. Leave Flint. If you don’t, the next person that comes for your head won’t even blink,” she said with tears in her eyes.
She rushed to the bathroom and slipped on her clothes before rushing out.
Naomi knew that this was a mistake, but killing him would have been an even bigger one. She practically ran down the block until she spotted Noah’s Range Rover. She slipped into his truck and as soon as she closed the doors she wept. Her cries were loud and she bent over, placing her head in her lap as she promised herself that she would never put herself in that position again.
“The first body is always the hardest. I owe you my life, baby girl. I love you,” Noah said.
Naomi knew that after hearing those words she could never tell him that she didn’t go through with it. He would take the words back and she had wanted to hear them from him for so long. “I love you too,” she replied as he wiped the wetness from her face. Naomi hoped and prayed that Demarcus heeded her warning and disappeared so that Noah never found out.
10
Bleu stood at the window to the apartment that Iman had gifted her, overlooking the entire city. L.A lit up at night. She stood there, the picture of perfection, but internally she was struggling to keep it all together. She was beautiful in her Miu Miu wrap dress. It accentuated her curves and dipped in a low-cut V in the back. She felt like money in her twelve-hundred-dollar Valentino pumps and flaunting her jumbo Chanel bag. Even the cost of the nail polish on her fingernails was more than some people’s light bills. Bleu was kept. Perhaps even more now that Iman had demoted her to mistress. It had been two weeks and she hadn’t seen him since he had given her the key. He had made good on his promise and allowed her to splurge, hiring a driver so that he would know her whereabouts at all times. With him unavailable to her she spent her time perusing Saks Fifth catalogs and going on shopping sprees in Beverly Hills.
She picked up her cell phone and called Iman. She had gotten used to his voice mail. It seemed that whenever she tried to reach out he buttoned her. The only time they spoke was when he contacted her. She felt worthless, and no matter how many things she purchased to make her feel better, none of it made her feel better. She was growing bored and to an addict that was a dangerous thing. Idle time made her antsy. Bleu had thought about going to cop something to smoke so many times, but she didn’t want to disappoint Iman. She never knew when he would pop up on her and she desperately wanted to show him that she could be who he wanted her to be. He doesn’t need Tan, she thought. Bleu felt like she had to one-up Tan. She was competing with a woman who had already won. Tan is his wife. It doesn’t matter how many red bottoms I buy, how many times I make him cum, or how many times he says he loves me. She will always win. As long as she has his last name and he has that ring on his finger, she will win. He will never belong to me, she thought sadly. Her stomach churned. It had been twisted in knots since the day Iman had found her in the hotel. She just wanted to get high. She was trying to keep up this act for him, this visage of a beautiful high-class woman. No amount of expensive things could help build her self-esteem. She was trash dressed up like treasure, but still she was rotting on the inside.
“You’ve got me going crazy,” she whispered
. Bleu was angry, but with nothing but four walls around her she had no one to lash out at. She sat down and picked up her phone, practically stabbing the phone with her stiletto nails as she sent him a text.
I swear to God if you don’t call me I’m going to flip the fuck out. Where are you?
Iman glanced at his phone briefly and sighed deeply as he dismissed the message. He missed Bleu, but lately business had made it hard for him to get away. Sandoza had requested Iman’s presence more frequently over the past few weeks. It was necessary for Iman’s face to become familiar to Sandoza’s men to make for a smooth transition once the time came. Iman knew that Bleu would be in her feelings, making assumptions about where his time was being spent. He didn’t have time to cater to her every whim at the moment. It was her neediness, her lack of independence, that frustrated him. She needed him around her 24-7 and the type of lifestyle he led didn’t allow for that. Her insecurities came out in immature ways and she put pressure on his back that he didn’t need. Any time he was around Sandoza he needed to be on point. With her blowing up his phone all times of the night, she was a distraction. He worried about her constantly and it was exhausting. He wanted her to have something going for herself … to have her own life, separately from him. She needed something to occupy her time. School. Shit, anything. He would settle for a hobby. She had gotten sucked in by the luxe life and it had completely changed who she was. Gone was the independent, ambitious college girl he had fallen in love with. She was a shell of her former self. He loved her still, but her fire had been put out the day she had been introduced to crack.
“You good?” Cinco asked.
Iman nodded, refocusing his attention on the task at hand.
“I know you ain’t call me all the way to Calabasas to blaze Cohibas and bullshit. What up?” Cinco asked, getting straight to the point.
“Cinco, sit your ass down and chill with your family for a little while. We hardly see you. We’ve been back together for two weeks and you just now making your way over here. You probably didn’t even know,” Tan chastised as she came out carrying a bottle of aged whiskey. She set down the bottle and kissed Iman on the lips. “I swear you were raised by wolves.”
Cinco stuck up his middle finger at Tan’s back as she headed back toward the house.
“I saw that!” she yelled without looking back.
Iman sat back observing Cinco. It was obvious why Sandoza had bypassed his only son to give Iman his seat. A mixture of immaturity, ego, and a temper made for a bad combination when running an empire.
“We’ve been in this for a long time. We’ve had a good run,” Iman said.
“Had? You talking like we done? There’s a lot of money to get out here,” Cinco said.
“Absolutely,” Iman said. “It’s time to take this to the next level. Sandoza and I have been speaking about what’s next.…” Iman paused. He wanted to choose his words carefully. With anyone else he wouldn’t have held his tongue, but he had known Cinco since they were teenagers. He knew that Cinco desperately wanted to prove himself to Sandoza. Iman didn’t want Cinco to take offense that Sandoza had chosen him, but he knew it was inevitable.
“You’ve been speaking with him?” Cinco asked.
Iman nodded. “I have. He wants me to take over. Not right away but eventually. I’ll need a number two, Cinco. I don’t trust none of these niggas out here … not with my life,” Iman said.
Cinco leaned in and grabbed the decanter of whiskey. He poured himself a glass. “I guess you’ve always been the son he never had,” Cinco said with a chuckle.
“Nah. A man don’t send his son to battle,” Iman said. “He don’t want this life for you. Something go wrong niggas come for the head. They’ll come for me, not you. You are Sandoza’s only son. He can’t jeopardize the legacy of his last name. If you die, his name dies with it,” Iman said. He was telling the truth from his own perspective, giving Cinco an easier version to digest. If Cinco knew the real reason Sandoza had bypassed him, Iman knew he would harbor resentment. It was fact that Iman needed Cinco. He needed a shooter. He needed someone to help run his organization. He needed a buffer between himself and the streets so that he could call the plays without getting his hands dirty. “I need you in this with me. We’re familia.”
“That goes without saying,” Cinco said. “You don’t even got to keep talking. I’m good with it.”
“Good,” Iman said as he indulged in his drink. “Shit ain’t official. I’ve got to get in good with the Five Families. No introductions have been made, but I just want to put you up on game. I need you in the loop,” Iman said.
“Appreciate it, bruh,” Cinco replied.
Iman’s phone went off again and this time he silenced it.
Cinco looked at him with a raised brow. “Better turn that bitch off before Tan come back out here,” Cinco said with a laugh. “You know she nuttier than a mu’fucka.”
Iman couldn’t help but chuckle at that.
“That’s the pretty little bitch you was fucking with? You still on that?” Cinco asked.
Iman frowned. “Watch your mouth, fam,” he said.
“Oh shit, no disrespect. I ain’t know it was like that,” Cinco commented.
“You good, but it’s like that,” Iman confirmed. “She’s work, though. I’m back with Tan—”
“Because Sandoza said if you divorce her, you’re out,” Cinco said. He knew his father too well not to know that it was a part of the deal.
“Nah, I care for your sister. She’s been here since day one but my lil’ mama. She’s … I fuck with her, but she gets wild. She gets caught up with the drugs and shit. I got Tan over here and I’m not trying to fuck that up, but I got her in the condo in L.A. and I’m trying to keep her on ice too,” Iman said.
“I don’t want them problems. That’s why I don’t wife no bitch.” Cinco chuckled.
“I’m about to take this trip with Tan. She planned this anniversary vacation, but it’s going to keep me away for two weeks. Shit’s fucking with me,” Iman said.
“I can check in on your girl for you, fam. No issues. I’ll stop in every few days to make sure she straight,” Cinco offered.
Had Iman known the malicious intent in Cinco’s offer he never would have divulged so much information about Bleu. He had no idea of the sadistic things going through Cinco’s mind. Iman thought he was sitting among family, and perhaps he was, but family is sometimes the most likely to snake you.
Cinco would never wear his heart on his sleeve, but the news Iman delivered hadn’t been received well.
This mu’fucka telling me he want to put me up on game. Like his last name is Sandoza. My own fucking father looked over me for a nigga that’s fucking over his daughter. So much for family, Cinco thought. It took everything in him to keep his cool.
“Yeah, maybe, man. I’ll let you know if I need you to swing by,” Iman said, brushing off the notion. He made a mental note to see about Bleu before she grew restless and did something to jeopardize herself.
* * *
Bleu held her phone in her hand, gripping it tightly as she went back and forth in her mind.
Just call him, she thought.
Her fingers dialed the numbers and she put the phone to her ear only to hang up as soon as it started ringing. This is stupid. Just call him. Why are you tripping? she chastised herself as she hit the number again and waited as it rang in her ear. She didn’t know why she was so nervous, but butterflies filled her stomach.
“Bleu?”
Click.
She hung up as soon as she heard his voice. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Oh! I’m an idiot!” she shouted in embarrassment. Five, four, three, two…, she counted down in her head, and on cue her phone rang. She took a deep breath and answered.
“Hi, Noah,” she greeted him. “I’m sorry. I think I butt dialed you by mistake.”
“Oh yeah? Twice, huh?” he said, teasing her.
Bleu rolled her eyes. “I miss you,” she admit
ted. “I’m sorry about the way I treated you when you came here.”
Bleu had never been too proud to say what was on her mind when it came to Noah. He was her very best friend.
“All is forgiven, B,” Noah said.
“I’m kind of fucking up out here,” Bleu said vaguely. There was no way she would tell him about her addiction. She knew that it would taint his perception of her. If there was anyone who put her on a pedestal it was Noah, and knowing that she shared the same love for the same glass dick as Sienna would disgrace her. No memory of her would ever be the same.
“You seem different,” Noah said. “I don’t know if that is a good thing or a bad thing, but you’re not the same.”
Tears came to her eyes and her voice quivered as she replied, “I know.”
“How’s school?” Noah asked. “I know you filling that big-ass head with hella knowledge.” He laughed and she did too.
“Nigga, I know you’re not on me, though? You never outgrew that hook in the back of your shit,” she replied.
“You cold, B,” Noah said, enjoying the childish banter. This was what they did. They laughed, they clowned, they enjoyed each other without the pressure of trying to impress each other. She didn’t have to be a glamour girl, have her face made or her hair done. Noah could be dead broke with no clout at all. They were bonded at the most basic level. Their love was so genuine that they only showed their true selves to each other. The rest of the world was greeted by their representatives … the masks that they put on when it was time to leave the comforts of home. Her voice grew serious as her laughter faded.
“I’m not even in school,” she admitted.
A LaLa Land Addiction Page 9