by Wahida Clark
Biggie, Atwater's bodyguard, tossed a manila envelope on the desk.
“What's this?” Joey opened the envelope to see a picture of the scandal.
“One of those faces should look familiar to you.”
“What kind of friggin’ homo shit is this?” was Joey's first reaction. But as he looked closer and closer, he noticed who Atwater was talking about. “Get the fuck out of here! That's Judge Snider! These are fucking impressive.”
Atwater smirked because he knew he had him. “To say the least. Which one of these gentleman is your uncle's attorney?”
You asked for the attorney to be here; he's here,” Joey said with his uncle’s attorney standing at his side.
“I wanted to ask what stage Mr. Bispucci's Subsection 2255 was at?” Atwater knew all the answers he asked, because of course, he did his homework before he made the appointment. He knew everything about the Bispucci family. He had found out all the in-and-outs, and he knew he had them by the balls.
The attorney was just as lavish and as snobbish as the bosses around him. “He's on his subsection 2255.”
Atwater knew exactly what a U.S.C. Subsection 2255 was. It was a procedure that allowed somebody to appeal his conviction in front of the judge who originally sentenced him, and it all made more sense, because this was the same judge that they now had by the balls.
“Who has the final say-so in a subsection 2255?” Atwater enjoyed himself.
“Judge Snider.” The attorney looked over at Joey with eyes that told him they had to pay whatever Atwater was asking. However, the attorney had yet to see the photos that Joey then handed to him.
“Oh my god!”
That was music to Atwater's ears. “You think you could score a favorable decision with those?”
“Without a doubt,” the attorney said.
“What do you want?” Joey was tired of the beating around the bush.
“Considering that Bispucci Inc. has an estimated wealth of a quarter of a billion, and when he was arrested, the Feds seized a little over $20 million in cash and assets, which they'll have to cough over once his case is overturned. I'm thinking $30 million.”
Joey was livid, and it took his bodyguards to calm him down. “Are you outta your fucking mind! What do you think? We have $30 million just laying around in the house?” He'd have Atwater's head on a platter before he'd let this smart moolie with photos get that kind of money from his family!
Atwater was forever the esteemed gentleman. “I understand your frustration, and I truly sympathize with the whole shock of it all. But if you don't put this judge in your front pocket now, he's going to let the Feds take all of this.” Atwater looked around the luxuriant mansion.
“Frankly, my friend. You don't have a choice.”
That's when it dawned on Joey that Atwater had done his homework. He looked over at his attorney who could read his mind.
“Joey, I'll have to agree with him. The Feds are already closing in on the gambling operations, the overseas investments, the butcher shops, the restaurants—hell, everything. I advise you to take this as a major breakthrough and a major turning point. You can keep the Feds at bay now by simply controlling the judge.”
“Get him the friggin’ money,” Joey spat.
“All of it?” his banker asked, who was a part of the Bispucci family.
“Get him the friggin’ money already!”
The Boss Is In The Building…
The breaking news aired on every station:
“Shocking news just in. The Bispucci crime family's head, Pauliano Bispucci, has been immediately released from ADX maximum security.
“His conviction was overturned when District Judge Snider declared that his conviction was based on an illegal search and seizure, and his twenty-four-count indictment for the following crimes; money laundering, tax evasion, drug trafficking, and murder for hire, and a continuing criminal enterprise, were unconstitutionally attained.”
The news showed Bispucci leaving the federal courthouse a free man. There was a crowd to welcome him and journalist were asking him questions and snapping pictures.
“How do you feel about the judge's decision?” a journalist asked Bispucci as he left the court building to get into a limo.
“Let our forefathers who drafted the US Constitution praise the judge's decision.”
Atwater laughed. He was a new creature now. He was in a huge Jacuzzi that was built into the ground at the decked-out penthouse flat in DC that he shared with Butterfly. He was smoking a cigar and wore a gold necklace, a bracelet that shimmered with diamonds, and a Rolex which was just as dazzling.
“You like that, don't you?” Butterfly asked, who looked like a million and one bucks in her swanky pale silk robe and her expensive weave that fell to the fall of her back. Her diamond studded earrings and the perfect makeup on her face made her look more a movie star than just simply a model.
“Fuck yeah. Justice served. Fuck that judge. I did eighteen years because I didn't have nobody who was laced with game like me. We ain’t even been out a year yet and we're multi-millionaires, and I have that sweet ass of yours to thank. I got a springboard on power.”
It was now or never for Butterfly to speak her mind as she slipped into the hot water with him once she disrobed.
“That's what I wanted to talk to you about. I'm tired of this. This was you're idea, and I only did it because I promised you I would. I'm not complaining, like I promised I wouldn't, but now that I got everything in line, I want to quit. I've been thinking about doing the surgery.”
“Where the fuck is all this coming from?”
“I just want to be with you, Mace! I've stopped doing drugs because of you. I'm not even bipolar anymore. You always make me feel complete. I just want to be with you.” Butterfly looked coy and sexy and Atwater truly loved her. When the matter of truth is questioned again, he truly, truly loved her! It was sheer ambition, hunger, and drive that made him desperate enough to turn her into a high-class call girl. Yet, out of all ten of his workers, Butterfly had only fucked about five clients, each one about twice, which was nothing in comparison to his other transvestites.
He could afford for her to quit. And the decision he was making was only because he did love her and wanted her to himself. He coveted her to such a degree that he made her and the rest of his workers take HIV tests monthly as an added incentive to his clients that the product was healthy and clean. But on Butterfly’s account, he wanted it so he could have unprotected sex without having to worry about bringing anything home to Shonda.
“That's all I'm saying.” She kissed his lips, and she didn't know that he had been doing lines of coke ever since he started fucking Lacy and Faith. His attitude had changed, but she attributed it to the money and power.
“If that's what you really want to do, we can make it happen. But you got to find somebody you trust to hand over your responsibility to.”
Butterfly smacked her lips. That would be the easiest thing to do in the world. “Lacy can do it much better than me. It's like she's made for this stuff, and what's more important, she's loyal to you.”
By now, Butterfly's hand was under the water caressing Atwater's dick. She straddled him and slid his dick inside her ass as she stuck her tongue down his throat and let him bust a mega nut inside her. Yes, he most definitely loved Butterfly! The love he had for her was some shit he didn't think possible. It made the years he had spent with Shonda seem like nothing, and it made Lacy's fire ass and Faith's pussy, pale in comparison. It was her heart he loved most and the chemistry that made everything else seem like nothing.
But Atwater could hardly think about his flailing love with her. He had the most exciting news of it all. Tomorrow was a really big day for him, and Butterfly would be at his side when he received it.
Chapter Forty-Three
Ain’t Nothin’ Like The Old School
The next day was a breeze and Atwater and Butterfly had traveled to a place that they thought they'd neve
r see again. But when they arrived, the place seemed foreign to them, as if they had never been there before.
They were chauffeured in a limo from DC to Schuylkill, Pennsylvania, and they traveled the whole way with a fine girl who looked no older than twenty-one years old.
They were going there to pick up Old School!
Old School looked completely debonair in his Italian cut suit and his slick-back salt & pepper ponytail and Aviator sunglasses once he left out of the jail. He was being escorted by the DEA agent who had cracked him many years ago. Atwater had dug up so much shit on the DEA agent, until he knew all the agent's fetishes and quirks. He had found out that the agent was not only a married man who was a homosexual on the down-low, but he also liked to smoke meth. Butterfly had matched a guy up with the agent who worked for their service, and after the episode went according to plan, the agent was more than too happy to lie to Old School's prosecutor and say that Old School had given critical assistance that resulted in the arrest of a big time ecstasy ring out of Buffalo, New York. The prosecutor filed a motion to Old School's judge, asking for an immediate release for Old School's substantial assistance, as they styled it. It was too funny to believe that it was all a lie in the first place and Old School would get out of jail because Atwater had set the DEA agent up! Imagine that.
Old School broke down when he walked into freedom. He had never thought he'd ever see the outside of the prison's gates, and now it had truly happened. He hugged Atwater, knowing this was the son he'd never had, and they were family for life.
When Old School got into the limo, he saw the young girl who Atwater had brought for him. She was a young tender, and Old School had to get used to affection because she was naturally all over him.
“What Craze-zo doing in there?” Atwater asked. He had spoken to him frequently and sent him money.
“He's still a fool.” They laughed.
“And Buffy and Britney says you should write them, Butterfly.”
Butterfly smiled. She'd get around to it, but it wasn't like she didn't send them any money. It wasn't that she didn't want to write them. Atwater had her doing so much stuff, and she couldn't think about anyone or anything else other than being with him.
They flew back to DC and Atwater showed Old School the sky blue Bentley Brooklyn he had bought for him and the penthouse suite that was across from the building where his penthouse suite was that he shared with Butterfly.
It was funny, but after Old School made love to the young girl, he felt like one of the tricks he had condemned all those years. The young girl's name was Michaela and her skin was golden, her hair blonde and wavy and she had green eyes. Damn was she fine!
Old School expired within minutes after he had given her mind-boggling orgasms and showed her tricks she never knew existed. Then he lay there and tickled her brain with his strongest asset, his mind.
“Oh god,” he exclaimed pleasurably, “I see a lot has changed since I've been gone.”
“What's changed?” she said and her voice sounded sweet to his ears.
“When I was young, these kittens here walked on all four legs.” He caressed her pussy gently. “Now they have wings that can fly.”
“No they don't!” She laughed.
“Yes they do—I swear to God they do!”
“How does it feel when you're inside me?”
“Like I'm king in heaven.” She laughed at Old School, and she thought he was the smartest man in the world and the best lover she'd ever meet. “Riddle me this: a man's mind or a woman's pussy? Where does the power lie?”
It didn't take much to think about how men ruled the world. “A man's mind?”
“You're very wrong, sweet thighs. A woman's pussy has the power of life, death, and influence.
“On the right bed, the whisper in the right ear can change the world. This is magic if you learn to use it. As long as you don't ever allow yourself to become like one of those women who forget that their power over men lies in their beauty and femininity. I can show you how to get the world at your door steps. Baby, you have all it takes and much more.
“If you can say what I'm about to say next, you can have it all.”
“What? What is it? Tell me, I'll say it?”
Oh, was she beautiful. Old School was going to have to spend the rest of his day catching up on endless fantasies.
“Say this: I don't pray, I prey.”
“I don't pray, I prey.” She laughed, and he lusted for her for it. She was the first girl he had sex with since the female CO he had a sexual affair with five years ago. Old School, unlike Atwater, had compromised over ten female COs, and he had never once been tempted to have sex with a boy.
“That's it. Now give me some more of that power of yours.” He made love to her for hours until she fell asleep in his arms dreaming of one day owning the world.
Old School called Atwater on his iPhone that took him hours to figure out how it worked.
“Come and get me out of here, before this girl has me addled-brained.”
Atwater laughed. “I'm on my way.”
Atwater walked over to Old School's building, and they went back to Atwater's flat. All of the opulence, including the flat Atwater had gotten for him, was too much to be thrown back into.
It looked so clean, spotless, plush and luxuriant that it would take some getting used to.
They went into Atwater's lounge and Atwater poured them some Remy Martin and they sat down on the leather couches. Atwater drank two glasses of the Remy Martin, and Old School knew Atwater had something to say.
“What's going on, young blood?”
“Old School, I started using that stuff.” When Atwater said ‘that stuff’, he implied cocaine.
“So what? Don't get a hang up over it. Look how you're living? You're driving fast cars, you have your boy, millions, living in plush lofts. It's a rush, but you're going to get back into the groove.” Old School already knew what ‘that stuff’ meant. The signs were there, and Atwater couldn't hide them, even if he wanted to.
“Damn, I love you Old School. That's exactly what it is! I feel like I'm out of control. Shit is just coming at me in high speeds. And it ain’t only that: I've been fucking Lacy, who's a boy. The shit is getting bad to where I like fucking transvestites now. Old School, I'm losing my soul.”
Old School laughed. “Young blood, if you had a soul, I wouldn't have dealt with you a long time ago. A man don't need a soul, he needs a brain and a high-IQ. When was the last time a person made millions or changed the world and he attributed it to his soul?
“You wanna know why nobody can ever judge you? There is no right or wrong. There ain’t no good or evil. It's just how your computers programmed, and that's why I always tell you to think outside the box. All you have to do is get control of yourself again with these circumstances of having freedom. Just get control.”
Atwater knew he could do it. He thought about what it would take, and it wasn't anything other than coming to grips with his new situation of having everything he wanted, when he wanted. Cocaine, he could stop or manage, along with his family life and his love affair with Butterfly. Everything was manageable, and he could hold it all in the palm of his hand. One thing was for certain, Old School gave him his poise back.
He ran everything down to Old School: how he had schemed, set people up, used cutting edge technology and spyware to get the evidence to ransom millions from politicians, entertainers, and law enforcement officers, and how he had negotiated over $30 million in proceeds. They sat up and talked all night, and now Atwater had his foundation and mental support back.
Done By Design…
Months later, Lacy wore a pink Hugo Boss long sleeve looking robe, which was actually a minidress that exposed her flawless, long legs. It was loosely tied in the front and showed that she didn't have on a bra and showed off her flat, sexy stomach.
She and Faith were inseparable sex demons. Faith wore an Emilio Pucci Greek bleached printed scarf with tassel details
over a fluid red dress and her perky breasts dangled erotically in the thin material. The both of them had just the right amount of wrong. They were in a fashion contest and both of their coifs were whipped by hell. They could only be topped by Butterfly, whose pinch of peach Gucci body-suit and flowery vest, and stilettos, could only be considered as the height of fashion. Her hair was pulled in a tight ponytail that hung to the bottom of her back. She had on doorknocker earrings, gold bangles that covered her forearms and a gold chain that hung past her belly button. Her vest was open to show her tasty collarbone and supple neck that Atwater had sucked on as he fucked her from dusk till the twilight of the next day.
They headed for Vegas, and Atwater knew he was pressing his luck, because he had been gone all week. Shonda was due any day now and she wanted him home at her side.
They spent the weekend in Las Vegas partying and gambling, and Atwater had finally decided to hand the reins over to Lacy, who had recruited many of her friends and was running most of the operation. Through Atwater's connect, Liam Val, whom she would never meet, she had arranged for more than $100 million in set-ups. They were bathing in cash!
Everything was good until, on their way back to DC, Lacy rubbed Atwater's dick and Butterfly had seen it. They were about to fight on the plane, and Atwater had to break it up by slapping Lacy for the disrespect to his girl, Butterfly, but it wasn't enough for Butterfly. By now she had the idea that he had been fucking Lacy.
Atwater couldn't believe the clumsy move played on the part of Lacy, and now he wasn't so sure the move was clumsy. When they touched down, Butterfly stormed off the plane, still in tears. Atwater didn't have time for this shit! He headed back to St. Louis to chill with his wife.
Chapter Forty-Four
It’s A Girl