The Cost of Vengeance

by Glenn, Roy

  “What’s up, Black?”

  As soon as I was inside, I punched him in the face and he went down from the blow. I kicked him in the face while he was laying there. “That’s for making me come down here,” I said and kicked him again. “Help him up, Freeze.”

  Freeze stepped up and helped Mark to his feet. I punched him in the stomach and when he doubled over; I went to the face with a knee lift. He went down again. Then I went into the living room and sat down. Freeze came and stood near where I was sitting, and we waited for Mark to get up and join us. I was glad that I didn’t have to tell Freeze not to help him up.

  When Mark did finally join us, he ran down some long, drawn out story about why he didn’t have the money. But as usual, he promised that he would have it if I’d just give him some more time. I got up and smashed his face into the wall a couple of times before I left that day, and ended up killing Mark when I found him the next week.

  As time went on, Freeze learned the craft. It got to the point that we worked together that we didn’t need words. Freeze knew exactly how and when I wanted him to deliver pain. And Freeze was brutal. I think its the thing that separates Victor most from Freeze. Victor is smart, efficient; he does what needs to be done to get results. Freeze enjoyed hurting a mutha fucka.

  I remember a guy named Irving Anderson; a stock broker whose only vice was that he liked to bet baseball. After a run of bad luck, he owed me fifteen thousand dollars. We found him one night at a bar on Seventh Avenue. Me and Freeze got to the door, but instead of going inside, I went and leaned against a car. “Go on in and bring him out,” I said.

  Freeze smile. “You ain’t goin’ in, Black?”

  “I’ll be right here.”

  Freeze went in, and five minutes later, the doors swung open and Irving Anderson landed at my feet. I looked at Freeze as he came out. “Mr. Anderson I presume?”

  “That’s him,” Freeze said.

  “He’s all yours.”

  Freeze smiled again, but went straight to work on Mr. Anderson. I watched him while he worked. And I looked in his eyes and could tell that he was lovin’ every second of it. Hittin’ him with fists, forearms and elbows; kickin’ him, rammin’ his head into cars.

  “Is there a problem out here?” some big mutha fucka that I assumed was the bouncer asked as a crowd formed to watch.

  I showed him my gun. “Does it look like I’m havin’ a problem?”

  “No problem,” he said wisely.

  Freeze picked Mr. Anderson up from the ground and slammed his body against the car I was leaning on. Freeze reached in Mr. Anderson’s pocket and took out his keys. He threw them to me. I hit the alarm and the lights flashed in a sweet Lamborghini that was parked down the street. And it was black. “You’ll get this back when I get my fuckin’ money,” Freeze said and hit Mr. Anderson again. We left him laying on the car, and drove away in his car. Two days later, he called with my money. There will never be another Freeze.

  I looked at Victor and asked him what time it was. “Eleven thirty.”

  We were in Miami, parked in the airport parking lot, waiting for Bobby’s flight to arrive. The flight was delayed due to bad weather in the area, but things had cleared up and I hoped that meant Bobby would call soon.

  We were in Miami to meet with Hector Villanueva. I had killed his nephew, Cruz, because of his involvement in a plot to kill me. Not wantin’ any bad blood between me and Hector, I setup a meeting.

  Earlier that day, I went to a restaurant called Delicias de España. Hector has lunch there every day. They serve traditional Spanish Cuisine, and boast about their fresh fish and seafood that they receive directly from Spain twice a week. “The taste of the Cantabric Sea in Miami.”

  Once she was miked for sound, I sent Monika in first. She had a special assignment. As soon as she was in place, Victor went in to arrange the meeting with Hector. I watched from the car as Victor approached Hector’s bodyguards. I knew it wouldn’t be long before Hector sent her away.

  “Nianza De La Vega?” Monika asked, calling her by her maiden name. She was Hector’s wife and an old acquaintance of mine.

  “Yes.”

  “Mike Black sends his regards and wants to know if there is any reason that he shouldn’t meet with Hector?”

  “Hector is glad Cruz is dead. Black saved him the trouble of having to do it himself,” I heard her say before she walked away.

  Once Victor arranged for us to meet that next afternoon, he came back to the car. Monika waited a while before she got up. Just as she was about to walk out, I saw Nianza walk up to Monika. “Give this to Black.”

  When Monika got in the car, she handed me an envelope. The letter said: meet me at the Epic Hotel on Biscayne Boulevard after you meet Hector. Room 1908. It was signed: Nina. I smiled. “Let’s go.”

  Victor’s phone rang and he answered it. “What’s up, Bobby?” When he hung up, he said that Bobby’s plane was on the ground and he was on his way to baggage claim. So we left out and went to meet him.

  That next afternoon, me and Bobby went to meet Hector at Delicias de España. After we dispensed with the pleasantries, Hector and I got to the point. “My nephew, Cruz, is dead, Black. Some say that you killed him and left his body to be eaten by rats.”

  “Cruz was involved with two of my own people in a plot to kill me, Hector. I only did what was necessary,” I said.

  Hector laughed. “Let’s be honest, Black. Cruz was a problem. That’s why I sent him to New York. If he had stayed here, either I would have killed him, or he would have killed me. I told him to stay away from you, but you know how these kids are today; my telling him that only proved to drive him to a confrontation with you.”

  “Trying to prove that he was better than you,” I said.

  “I would say that he thought that he was smarter; knew better than me,” Hector said.

  “I meant no disrespect.”

  “I took none, my friend.” Hector took a sip of his drink. “You and I have no problems, Black. But I appreciate that you came down here to show respect.”

  I stood up and so did Bobby. “I know that you are a busy man and have important things to do, so I’ll leave you now. You have not only my respect, but my condolences for your families’ loss,” I said. We shook hands and I left.

  Bobby drove me to Biscayne Boulevard. I went inside the Epic Hotel and knocked on the door at 1908. Nina opened the door wearing a tight blue dress and I stepped inside. “Hello, Nina. You look good.”

  “It’s good to see you again,” Nina said and went and sat on the bed.

  “What did you want to see me about?” I asked and sat on the bed next to her.

  “Do you remember what I said I wanted to do the last time I saw you?” Nina asked.

  “Vaguely.”

  “I said what I’d really like to do is suck that big dick and then ride you until I felt it swell up and explode inside me,” she said and began to unzip my pants.

  “Is that what you want to do?”

  “Yes.”

  Nina took my dick from my pants and clasped her fingers together around it, and stoked it. She moved her hands up and down slowly until it was hard. She licked her lips, and I felt my dick swelling in her hands. Nina lowered her head and took me into her mouth. She ran circles around my head with her tongue. Nina slid her lips up and down, deeper and deeper, slowly, until she had taken almost all of me in her mouth.

  Once she had had her fill, Nina stood up and got undressed, then she undressed me. I laid back down and watched her gliding her hands across my skin. Nina straddled my body and lowered herself onto me. Then as promised, she rode me until I swelled up and exploded inside her.

  When she was done with me, Nina said good-bye and left the hotel. I took a quick shower and went downstairs where Bobby was outside waiting for me in the car. When I got in the car, Bobby shook his head and started laughing. “What?”

  “You a greedy man,” Bobby said.

  I laughed too. “You’re right
. I’m a greedy man.” It was the name of an old James Brown song that we picked up because it fit us. “Now, brother, don’t—” we both sang. “Leave—your homework undone.” We both laughed as he drove away.

  “Tell ’em one more time,” Bobby said. “Now, brother, don’t—leave—your homework undone,” we both sang. But instead of thinking about what I had just done with Nina, my mind was on Jada West.

  Chapter Five

  Jada West

  What to do about Mike Black?

  Now that is a man. Every time I see him, every time he parts those sexy lips, every time he says Ms. West, he makes me want to forget about everything, and I become his personal sex slave. And believe me, sex is something I know about. Sex is how I make my living. After spending more time than I care to admit, lying on my back with my legs in the air, I realized that the real money was in being the one who arranged for other woman to lie on their backs with their legs in the air. To me, sex is just another way to make money. The day I left Sasha, my old madam, I handed her two thousand dollars. That day I decided to get on the money-making end of that equation. In my new world, I created the women who were lying on their backs with their legs in the air working for me. They walked the way that I did, talked the way I told them to talk and they dressed and conducted themselves the way I said a lady should. The day I became the madam was the last time I had sex. But I have to say, Mike Black would be the man to change all that. I remember the first time I saw him.

  “Jada!”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Are you listening to me?” Jenna asked.

  I looked at her and smiled. “To be honest with you, Jenna, no I wasn’t.”

  “At least you’re honest about it,” Jenna said and walked off. I sat for a second thinking about Jenna and how rude I’d just been to her, and I planned to apologize to her the first chance I got. I didn’t want to lose her because I knew that Jenna Bobbit had the potential to be a big earner for me.

  I met her at a fashion show that was given by Pierre Preston, one of the city’s hot, new designers. That evening I wore an Akris Punto silk, long-sleeve jacket with a notched collar, three-button close front patch pockets, and satin piping. And Jimmy Choo clue leather platform snipped, peep toe slingbacks. I was sitting next to a makeup artist called Tommy Rome, when I caught my first glimpse of Jenna. One of the models had broken a heel and was limping badly trying to get off stage. Jenna came out and helped her out. “I haven’t seen her on stage tonight,” I said to Tommy.

  “She’s not a model. Not anymore,” he said. Tommy went on to explain how Jenna was a hot property when she was sixteen and seventeen. But her body matured after she turned eighteen. Her breasts got fuller, her hips spread, and she got some butt. “She got fat, honey,” Tommy said. “You know these Nancy’s like these girls to be skinny as a rail.”

  I looked at the model that was walking across the stage in front of me. “Practically anorexic,” I commented.

  “I’m sayin’: that one is all skin and bones,” Tommy agreed. “Anyway. When Jenna couldn’t drop the weight, she was a has-been as a model. Now she dresses them.”

  “I want to meet her.”

  Tommy introduced us that night, I gave her my card, and after I assured her that I wasn’t a lesbian trying to pick her up, we agreed to meet for dinner the following evening. I arrived dressed in a Proenza Schouler one-shoulder bubble dress with an asymmetrical neckline wrapped along the waist’s bubble hem; Proenza Schouler wedge ankle boots; and a 24-carat diamond ring with earrings to match, and a diamond-studded watch. As we talked about her former modeling career over dinner, I could tell that she was looking at the diamonds. I was purposely vague when she asked what I did for a living. I told her that I did recruiting and training, and that seemed to satisfy her for the moment.

  I spoke with her daily for the next couple of days. Nothing more than “Hi, how’s it going,” and some idle chit-chat. Then I called her early one morning and asked if she wanted to go to a party with me. “Really, Jada.”

  “Really, Jenna. But this is a very upscale affair and I don’t mean to be rude, but do you have an evening gown?”

  “No,” Jenna said and sounded dejected.

  I told her that I would pick her up in an hour and we spent the day shopping. I bought her a Carmen Marc Valvo ruched-satin cocktail dress with a sexy double V-neck to wear that evening. Along with Jimmy Choo lance-mirrored sandals and a clutch bag to match. That night at the party, Jenna asked me again what I did for a living, but before I could answer, she said, “It doesn’t matter. Whatever you do, Jada, I want to be a part of it.”

  So I told her what I did, what I would do for her, and what I wanted her to do. “Do you still want to be a part of it?” I asked.

  Jenna looked me in the eyes. “When do we start?”

  I brought Jenna in to replace my top earner and best friend, Diane. She was my top earner, male or female client didn’t matter, Diane put in the work. One afternoon, I was sitting around the apartment relaxing with Diane and we were talking about our increase in business. I had just offered her, her choice of the last three appointments that came in. “What times are they?”

  I ran my finger down the appointment schedule on my laptop. “Uh, seven, ten, and a late night will call.”

  “Jackson?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ll take them all,” Diane said.

  I remember the speech I gave that first night that the ladies got together. “The most important thing that I’m going to teach you is how to conduct yourselves in a ladylike manner in every situation. Elegant and classy, ladies, that is who you are at all times.” I stood up and moved to the middle of the living room. “I’m going to teach you how to walk, how to talk.” I looked at Diane and she rolled her eyes. “And how to dress and how to conduct yourself at any occasion. Knowing what to say and what not to say, will make your company more desirable and therefore requested on a regular basis.”

  I thought back to the day Diane came running into my office and shoved her hand in my face. “I’m getting married!” she yelled and then danced around the room like she was in a conga line. “I’m getting married, Jada,” she said and once again shoved her hand in my face. This time I grabbed it and looked at the ring. It was a princess-shape Mark Broumand platinum 3.41 carat diamond ring.

  “Isn’t it beautiful, Jada?”

  “Yes, Diane it is.” Then I asked the question. “Who asked you to marry them?” The reason Diane was my top earner was because she worked all the time. I didn’t think she had time for a social life.

  “Jackson.”

  “Jackson? You don’t mean Jackson Ponder?” Now it made sense, Jackson Ponder was one of my better clients, and Diane had been his only choice for the last two years.

  “He took me to his country club last night to meet his friend, and this morning he asked me to marry him.”

  Now that the initial shock had worn off, I got up and hugged Diane. “I am so happy for you, Diane.” And I was. Jackson Ponder was a multibillionaire. “You’re getting married, and to a very rich man,” I said and hugged her again.

  “Every hoe’s dream,” Diane laughed.

  “So when is the big day?”

  “In two weeks,” Diane said. “And I got something to ask you, Jada,” Diane said and took a step back.

  “What’s that?”

  “Would you be my maid of honor?” Diane looked at me. “Please say yes, Jada. You’re my best friend, my only real friend. I couldn’t get married without you standing next to me.”

  “Of course I will, Diane. I’m honored that you asked.”

  “I haven’t decided who I’m going to ask to be bridesmaids yet,” Diane said and I smiled.

  “Why choose.”

  “What do you do mean?”

  “Why not have all of the ladies as your bridesmaids?” I suggested. You see, Jackson Ponder was rich—very rich—and that usually meant that all of his friends were rich too. I saw it as an
opportunity to recruit some new clients.

  Well, Jackson only agreed to three bridesmaids, but I gave everybody the afternoon off to go to Diane’s wedding. But as soon as the reception was over, everybody went back to work. And even though I told her that she didn’t have to, Diane kept working. In fact, the wedding was at four o’clock and she took her last client at one.

  In a very short time, I planned a beautiful affair. Everything was wonderful. One of his groomsmen was already a client, and he was nice enough introduce me around. Before the night was over, I had seven new clients and three more that I thought had potential, but just didn’t get to because they left early. But I did get each of their business cards and promised that I would get back to them within the week for cocktails. It seemed that most, if not all of the men there, knew how he’d met Diane, and that made it easy.

  I started to ask Mr. Black to be my escort for the evening, but I knew that if he was there, all I would want to do was, smile in face and giggle like a schoolgirl over every word that came out of his mouth, and offer him my body. As good as that sounded to me, I knew that the evening would be better spent speaking with potential new clients. Once again, my passion for Mr. Black would have to wait.

  Chapter Six

  Kirk

  Either it way too early or I was getting too old for this shit. It wasn’t quite six-thirty in the morning yet, and I was on my way to a triple. As I approached the crime scene, I saw that there was a crowd formed around the perimeter that the uniforms had setup. “Wasn’t too early for them,” I said and parked the car.

  I made my way through the crowd of onlookers and showed my badge as I went under the tape. The first person I saw coming toward me was narcotics’ lieutenant, Gene Sanchez. He was a good guy as far as cops go, and as far as cops go, he was a good cop.

  “Morning, Kirk,” Sanchez said and looked around. “Where’s your partner? Off somewhere beating a suspect?” he asked and shook my hand.

  “On vacation.”