by Wahida Clark
If he did not hold up his end of the bargain, the loan would default. A defaulted loan in an amount so high would lead to an account probe. An account probe would then lead to an investigation. And that was not something I was going to allow to happen. So before I placed these checks in his possession, I needed to see his master plan. Every detail of it. There were two checks. One for four million, which would be given to King-G, and another for eight million, which was made out to him to help save his label.
Cedrick was on point. His attorneys were present, and he’d laid out the plan for repaying the money. I felt confident handing over the check. He seemed to have his repayment plan together, and I knew his reputation as one of the top record label owners was important to him. He didn’t want his legacy to be that of another failed giant in the hip-hop industry. He had a point to prove. And because of that, I knew he would make good on his promise. Our loan agreement was confidential. Nobody knew that Cedrick borrowed that money. But I was there for support and to make sure that he did what he was supposed to do. KG only knew me as Cedrick’s banker. That was all he needed to know.
He hadn’t signed the contact yet, but as soon as we left this meeting, we headed over to Platinum Records headquarters to meet up with him. When we walked in, the place was buzzing. All the label employees, A&Rs, and execs were standing around with champagne bottles and confetti, ready to celebrate once the deal was done. As KG entered the building, everybody watched him walk into the boardroom with his attorneys. He had a whole damn team. I was surprised he could afford that. Most new artists could barely pay their bills, but he impressed me with his interest in protecting his future. Smart. I must say, him in a suit was a sight to see. KG was so handsome, he had what I called the “stare-effect”—where you had to check yourself for looking so hard, and then turn the other way.
When he sat down, I cleared my throat. He looked at me and smiled. I smiled back and quickly turned away. His lawyers explained that they reviewed the record deal, and it looked standard; they only had a few changes to make regarding concert and tour proceeds. They hashed that out in about fifteen minutes, and then it was time to sign. KG inked his signature, and so did Cedrick. They shook hands, and the check was exchanged.
I watched King-G, the man with the stare-effect swag. He just got four million, and his expression did not change one bit. What was up with this dude? Nobody in the world was that smooth. He passed the check over to his lawyer and got up to leave. When he stepped outside of the conference room, the building went berserk. They popped bottles and cheered. I was happy for him.
After I shook hands with Cedrick, congratulating him for signing such a promising artist, I started toward the elevators.
“Hold that door, ma,” KG said. He got on the elevator with me, and when his lawyers tried to get on, he told them to catch the next one.
“That was rude!” I said, jokingly.
“I’ve seen enough of them cats for one day. I wanted to invite you to my party tonight.”
“Party? Oh, thanks, but I don’t party like that. I’ve got too much work to do.” I didn’t know what the hell I was saying; my mouth was moving on its own without much thought or guidance behind the words that were spilling out.
“Word? That’s how you feel? I don’t just want you to come to the party. I want you to be my date for the night.” I almost dropped my Chanel bag.
“Your date?” I laughed.
“Yeah, is that an issue? You got somebody in your life that would have a problem with that?”
“I mean, not really. But you don’t even know me.”
“I know you’re swaggy with it. You get to your bag. Intelligent. What else I need to know? I just wanna chop it up with you, if you don’t mind,” KG said.
“Okay, let me think about it. It’s early. I’ll call you and tell you if I decide to go . . . around eight tonight.” Just then the elevator door opened, and I walked off so fast I left smoke in my trail. “Congratulations,” I said, before walking off. He stood there and watched me for a minute, and then yelled in my direction.
“Ay, yo! Hold up, Milla! How you gon’ say you gonna call a nicca, and you don’t even have my number?” I shrugged and waved, leaving him standing in front of the elevator doors. I really wasn’t into mixing business with pleasure.
By seven, my phone was ringing. It was a number that I didn’t recognize. “Hello,” I said.
“Yo, Milla. It’s me.”
“Me who?”
The deep voice laughed. “Me. KG. Stop frontin’, ma. Ay, yo, look out your window right quick.” I got up from my bed and walked downstairs toward the front door. I opened it and a damn stretch Rolls-Royce Ghost was parked in my driveway. The driver was standing outside the car.
“Really? KG? How did you get my address and number?” I knew that damn Cedrick probably gave it to him.
“Don’t worry ’bout all that. Just have your pretty ass ready by ten.”
Chapter 8
Sunny-SolÉ
* * *
I hated having to visit my king in prison. Not just because he didn’t belong here, but having to deal with the hating-ass bitches at the visiting desk. My hair was bone straight, hanging to the middle of my back, and it swayed from side to side, mimicking the movement of my hips. I looked extra good for my king, getting as sexy as possible without being banned from entering the prison. Every time I came here, they threw shade and hated on me heavy. But, hey, if I saw a bitch as fly as me, I might hate too. So I wasn’t really mad. It was more annoying than anything else.
The off-white Anthony Vaccarello one-piece pants suit I wore didn’t fit skin tight, but the chiffon material clung to my ass just how he liked it. Showing every curve. I rocked gold-studded Giuseppe open toed booties, and, of course, my jewels were shining. Flawless.
“Remove your jewelry, ma’am, so it doesn’t sound the alarm,” this busted correction’s officer bitch instructed. I rolled my eyes. I swear the BOP kept a hatin’-ass ho on their payroll.
“It’s not going to beep. Trust me. I been doing this for a minute,” I replied. My attitude expressed my true thoughts.
“Ma’am, only real jewelry doesn’t trigger the machine. That is clearly costume jewelry you’re wearing. So, please, to save us some time, just put the jewelry in the bowl.” She shoved the bowl in my face, and I ignored her. I removed my shoes and put them in the bin. I didn’t take my eyes off them. I didn’t trust these broke, miserable overseers for one second. Once my shoes were safely in my view, I walked through the metal detector.
Silence!
There was nothing fake about what I wore. Especially when it came to my jewels. The look on her face was priceless. I let out a sarcastic chuckle before entering visitation. And there he was, waiting for me.
My husband was not just my husband; our love went beyond what the average couple considered as marriage. We were royalty to one another, and that is how we addressed each other all the time. I’m the Queen, he’s the King, and our son is the Prince. I may not have had a crown or a scepter, but what I did have was a long reach, and my king kept a pack of wolves who moved at his command. I would do anything for him. And today, he would find out just how loyal and deep my love went.
“What up, Queen!” he said right before kissing me softly. “I missed you, baby.” There was no other place I wanted to be other than in his presence. He was the best thing that ever happened to me. He had no idea what I’d done with the governor. I wasn’t supposed to make this trip until the following week, but he called me and told me it was imperative that I visit with him immediately because he had some fucked-up news to tell me. I already knew what he had to say, and I was pretty sure that what I was about to tell him would blow his mind. The diva in me forced me to cross my legs and act dainty. But the gangsta in me had me ready to bring a war to the doorsteps of these slave masters who insisted on ruining my family.
“Yo, Queen, you’re not gonna believe this.” He shook his head in disbelief as he grippe
d my hand.
“I already know.”
“You do? How, baby?” I looked around the visiting room to make sure nobody was listening.
“You’re being transferred to state prison.”
“On some trumped up, bullshit charges. I’m ’bout to—” I interrupted him.
“Listen to me, King. I set this whole situation up. I knew it wouldn’t be easy. But I never prayed for life to be easy. I prayed for us to be strong. And I went and put the muscle on the right people. I met with that crooked-ass governor, the one that copped them jawns from us.”
“I told you, Queen, no moves without kicking it with me, first. I hate that you’re out there without me. I know you’re a beast, but you gotta be careful. What happened?”
“While the king is down, the queen takes over the kingdom. You already know how we get down. I wasn’t about to sit and let them railroad you like this. Those bitch-ass Feds stole our money, paid off the judge, and covered it all up. I told the governor to have you charged with a state case, and then he’s going to pardon you, and we’re out of the country before the Feds show up to pick you up again.”
“Got damn, Queen, that’s a helluva plan. One can never underestimate my queen.”
“As we speak, he is meeting with the judge and setting her up. Getting her to confess. Once he hands me the recordings, I gave him my word that we won’t expose the fact that he buys counterfeit money to cover up what he stole.”
“That shit is genius. Just make sure you operate using all the mechanics and principles that I taught you, baby.”
“Always. I know. Play the game of life like it’s a game of chess. Study the moves, strategize, and execute.”
“That’s my queen.”
I left the prison feeling confident that everything would go just as I planned. I was making shit happen. I had a meeting scheduled with the governor. I couldn’t wait to hear what happened when he met with the judge. I started my hour and a half drive to Albany. I was boppin’ my head to POWER 105.1, FM when they started talking about corruption in the system and how these judges needed to be scrutinized more before being given so much power. The radio station’s topic definitely had my attention. I thought it was a weird coincidence that they were talking about the same issue that directly affected me.
Then the words of my king flashed in my mind. “Queen, there are no coincidences. Everything is connected and related.” That philosophy made sense, but I knew there was an exception to every rule, and this is one of those times, surely. There was no way that the topic this afternoon had anything to do with Sunshine-Solé.
Or did it?
What I heard next required my full attention. I needed to pull off to the side of the road because I couldn’t focus. I had to make sure I was hearing this right.
“Okay, let’s play the clip again, for those of you that don’t know what happened this morning,” the radio personality said.
“So, how many of these cases have you ever actually taken serious, Judge?”
“None. It’s all about the money. I get paid to lock up trash, and I do it. The details don’t matter. You understand, Governor, don’t you? I’ve heard that you go about things unorthodox as well.”
Oh my God, it was really her! She admitted to being a snake. The radio commentators interrupted.
“Unbelievable! And everyone is praising the governor for his bold move to release to the people of New York and the United States, his wired conversation with an anonymous federal judge, where she boldly admits to corruption. He’s guaranteed himself reelection with this one, and she’s guaranteed a trip straight to prison.”
My phone rang, and I almost missed the call. It was him.
“I did my part. Now destroy that video.”
“Done!” I said, and hung up the phone.
Chapter 9
Eshe
* * *
“Wake the fuck up, nigga!” Jeremy said to the Secret Service agent. He was bandaged up in the bed. Jerry tapped him with his gun on the forehead. The man opened his eyes.
“Chill, Jerry. I’ve got this,” I said, calming him down. I looked at the agent and stood beside his bed.
“What are you going to do to me?” he asked. His words were strong, but there was a hint of fear embedded in his tone.
“No, we’re the ones asking the questions. If you want to stay alive, you need to tell me why you were planting dope in my office.” He closed his eyes. “You’re still breathing, but I can change that, if you’d like,” I said, not believing the words myself.
“I don’t have anything to say,” he muttered. “You have no idea what’s going on. We’re all gonna be dead, thanks to you.”
“Fine. Jerry, make it a quick death, and Marcellus, figure out how we’ll get rid of the body.” It didn’t matter if I meant it or not. Jerry would take that as a pass to do his thing.
“Yes, ma’am,” Marcellus said. I walked toward the door, and Jerry pulled out his P-80 and attached the silencer. The agent tried to move, but he was handcuffed to the bed. He struggled against the restraints.
“Okay, wait! Wait!” the agent said in defeat, hollering for my attention. I stopped in my tracks and turned to face him.
“I don’t want to hurt you. I am no killer. I’m a businesswoman. But you obviously wanted to see me rot in prison. You need to tell me what the fuck is going on.”
“Okay. Look,” he said, short of breath. He was still in pain from the gunshot wound. “I was just following orders, doing my job. I was told that you and your company are a problem.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked, frustrated.
“Some very important people don’t like what you’re doing. You did a deal for a guy named Amikbogo. You remember that?”
“Yeah, that was about six months ago. And . . . the issue is?”
“He’s an African Wall Street trader. Small time. Until he met you. Well, he made about $200 million in an oil trading deal that you set up, and now he’s in pretty damn good with some crude oil suppliers.”
“Okay, what’s the problem with that?” I thought I saw a smile appear on his face. It had, but it wasn’t because anything was funny.
“You really don’t know, do you?” he chuckled. “He referred about ten other blacks to you, and they all made a few hundred million after you set up trade deals for them. Wall Street is not too happy about this. Never in history have so many . . . minorities infiltrated the private oil trading world. You’re not welcome there.” Now everything made sense. My business was a threat to the white status quo of wealth in America. I didn’t even know I was impacting the world on such a major level. I had no place to go but up, and they wanted to stop my growth and bury me. What was I to do? I needed time to think. I stared at the wall in deep thought.
I replayed the Secret Service agents showing up at my office. That unexpected visit rattled me. Not many things had the power to unnerve me. Because I was raised with the knowledge that I’m a goddess, I considered myself quite fearless. I attributed my success to that mind-set. I created my own blessings and curses. And as I stood in this hotel room, I pondered what actions I had taken that led to this curse known as the Secret Service invading my life.
When they were in my office earlier, they had the nerve to say that the president would be in the area in a few days, and they were randomly visiting offices and residences whose windows faced the venue where the president would be speaking. Thanks to the agent handcuffed to the bed, I now knew they were full of shit. They asked to see the window in my office so they could make sure that their security plans were in proper order. I acted as surprised as one would expect any person who randomly got a visit from the president of the United States’ security detail. If they’d known I had one of their own chained up in a hotel, I probably wouldn’t have made it out of the building. The visit lasted for about five minutes. They took pictures of the office and the window directly behind my desk. We were over thirty stories high, and I knew this was bul
lshit. But I played along.
Marcellus snapped me out of my trance. “Boss Lady, we gotta figure out what we’re going to do with him. We can’t just leave him here like this. We either kill him and risk going to prison, or we let him go and guarantee we’re going to prison.”
“I can help you!” he said, interfering with our conversation.
“I never really agreed with what they were trying to do to you. But I took an oath. I can help you. I promise I can keep you out of prison if you let me go. I’ll testify if you let me live. I give you my word.”
“Shut the fuck up!” Jeremy yelled. The agent got quiet quick. I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to figure out what to do. I couldn’t keep this man here forever. And I couldn’t leave him unattended because we risked getting caught up.
“Jerry, I need you to stay here with him for a few hours until I figure out what we’re going to do next because—” A knock at the door interrupted my words.
“Room service!” a female voice said.
“No, thank you!”
“But we have to clean, ma’am.” I looked through the peephole and saw a small Hispanic woman. I opened the door slightly, leaving the chain on.
“We’ll be checking out soon. Please take this and—” I flew back against the wall. It felt like it was happening in slow motion. Someone kicked the door open, and it hit me so hard I nearly lost consciousness.
They came in, guns blazing. Masked men. A loud pain-filled sound colored the room. Jerry was busting back for a second, but his sudden silence scared me.