by Nikki Turner
Isis reluctantly told him her situation. “He’s locked up now.”
“And you still call him your husband?” Lootchee chuckled. “How much longer will he be gone?”
“I don’t know,” Isis said honestly, with some sadness in her voice. “And yes, I do still call him my husband. Prison can’t change that for me, only death can.”
Lootchee was willing to be number two for a moment, but only a moment. In his mind there was no way a man in prison could be any real competition to him. “Well, while he’s locked up, what if I’m just your friend on the side?”
Now it was Isis’s turn to change the subject. “Where did you book those reservations? I’m starving.”
Dinner was at a five-star restaurant, and Lootchee had everyone from the owner to the cook jumping through hoops for him. Isis knew that he was trying to impress her, much like he had been attempting to do all afternoon. And to be honest about it, the man was damn good at it. It cost a lot of money to be the king of Texas and Lootchee didn’t cut any corners.
Chapter 26
Nobody Likes the Rat
After wining and dining her, and extending an indefinite rain check on going out dancing, Lootchee took Isis to her hotel as promised. She decided to follow her first instincts and not give Lootchee the wrong idea by staying at his place. Because it was after midnight by the time they arrived at the hotel, he walked her in to be sure she was safe. At the check-in counter, the woman on duty informed Isis of a problem with her reservations.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Wiseman, but if you don’t check in or call the hotel by six PM, the reservations are considered void and will be charged to the credit card on which the room was reserved,” the clerk said.
“No problem,” Isis told the clerk as she whipped out her wallet. “I’ll just book another one now.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Wiseman, but there are no more rooms available. There is a NASCAR race this weekend and a church convention, and we are renovating our north tower. I’m so sorry, Mrs. Wiseman. Your room was booked at 6:05 PM. Demand for rooms was just that great. Again, my sincere apologies that you weren’t informed about our policy.”
Although Isis was fit to be tied like a hog in Texas, this was the best news Lootchee had heard all day. “Excuse us,” he said to the clerk, then ushered Isis a few feet from the desk so that their conversation couldn’t be overheard. “Of course you know that my offer is still open.”
“That’s really sweet, and you have a wonderful home, but I wouldn’t feel comfortable there.”
“Why?” he asked. “Because you’re afraid that the more time we spend together the more time that gives us to bond and develop feelings for one another? If you are scared of falling for me, then say that you are scared.”
Isis decided that now was not the right time to set Lootchee straight, so she gave him a polite chuckle. “Since this is your town, your kingdom, it shouldn’t be hard for you to find me a hotel room. Can you do that for me?”
Lootchee tried to call in a few favors but came up empty. It seemed as if every single room in the city was booked. They even rode around to a few of the less-reputable motels because Isis was so insistent on not staying with him. It was beginning to look like an impossible mission when finally they spotted a sign that read: VACANCIES: WE HAVE ROOMS W/ JACUZZI.
“Stop the car,” Isis said. “Let me try in there.”
“Are you serious?” Lootchee asked. “Is staying at my place so bad that you would rather stay here?”
“No. Not at all,” she assured him. “But my husband wouldn’t want me to stay in the house of a man I just met in a strange city, regardless of how nice you are and how innocent your intentions may or may not be.”
Lootchee reluctantly submitted. “I’ll do as you wish,” he said, not liking the idea at all.
When they got inside the hole in the wall of a hotel, a man with a turban greeted Isis. “May I help you?” he said with a heavy accent.
“Do you have any rooms available?” she asked.
“Ha long?” the man inquired. “Ha many hours?”
An insulted look crossed her face. That should have been her cue to walk out right then, but she didn’t. Instead she said, “I would like to have the room for a night.”
“Check out time ahhh-leven o’clock.”
“Okay, how much for the room?” she asked.
“Give me sixty dollars.”
Isis said that she would take the room, despite Lootchee’s protest. She sent him on his way, but before he left, she made him promise to be there first thing in the morning so that they could check on Phoebe’s case. He agreed and walked out of the hotel, sulking like a child who couldn’t have his way.
Room 403 wasn’t as bad as she expected it to be. As soon as she walked in, she could smell the lemon disinfectant that had been used to clean the room. The bed even had a couple of pieces of chocolate waiting for her on the pillow. The flowery carpet was a little worn down and the matching wallpaper was peeling a little bit from the bottom of the wall, but it would do for the night. It wasn’t as if she was trying to vacation there.
When she walked into the bathroom, she was pleasantly surprised, because the sign outside hadn’t lied. In the corner, there was a big round Jacuzzi that could fit four. Then she noticed that there weren’t any washcloths or towels hanging on the rack or on the shelf.
No problem, she thought. She went back into the main room and picked up the telephone to call the front desk.
“Yah,” the same man who’d checked her in answered. “Front desk.”
“Yes, I’m sorry to bother you, but I need towels and washcloths.”
“No problem. Me get chu whateva chu need.”
She thanked the clerk and hung up. The towels and washcloths were delivered within five minutes. Not bad service for what appeared to be a one-star hotel. She went into the bathroom to wash up before lying down and getting some rest. Although the outside of the hotel looked kind of shabby, the rest of it seemed surprisingly clean. She couldn’t imagine Logic wanting his princess to have to lay her head in a place like this, but she couldn’t imagine him wanting her head to be lying on another man’s pillow either.
Isis peeled off her black spandex dress, which was embroidered with clear rhinestones, and her undergarments, and then slid in the shower. It was steaming hot just like she liked it, and the water sprayed from the head in firm pellets—just what she needed to relax. Soaping up three or four times, she enjoyed the exhilarating, refreshing blasts of the water for at least thirty minutes. Actually she had lost track of time. When her mind did come back to the present, she got out of the shower before her skin started shriveling up. The towel she patted herself down with was fluffy and had a nice scent, as if straight out of the dryer with a fabric-softener sheet. She used another towel to wipe the steam off the mirror and then removed her shower cap to examine her hair: Her free-flowing loose curls were all in place. She determined that they would hold for a couple more days before she would have to get her hair done again. All she wanted now was some rest and to wake up in the morning and hopefully scoop up her sister.
When she walked out of the bathroom, what she saw next caused a loud scream to escape from her lips. “Aaaaaaahh! What the hell?”
A supersized rat was staring at her, as if she was intruding on him. The good-for-nothing rodent was on its hind legs, sitting on her pillow. It was the biggest rat she had ever laid eyes on and was the size of that dog from those Taco Bell commercials. Isis was afraid of hamsters, so the rat had her freaked out big time. She jumped up in a chair that sat by an old dresser that had seen better days. Shaking and scared half to death, she was unsure of what to do. She knew one thing for sure, though: She was done with this fleabag hotel…and there went her damn chocolates!
At this point, Isis knew that she had no other choice but to take Lootchee up on his offer. Hopefully, she hadn’t offended him too badly by not accepting it in the first place. Still petrified and standing on the
chair, Isis scanned the room for her cell phone. Damn, she thought after spotting it on the opposite end of the dresser. No way was she getting down from the chair. Thinking fast, she climbed up on the beat-up dresser and crawled the two feet she needed to go to get to her phone. Beside her phone was a drinking glass. She grabbed the glass and hurled it at the dog-rat. It scampered off the pillow and went under the bed.
Isis shuddered and climbed back over to the chair and stood on it to dial Lootchee. “My room is infested with rats!” she screamed into the phone as soon as he answered. “I hate fucking rats! I need you to come back and pick me up if the offer is still open.”
A grin spread across Lootchee’s lips, as if he had put the rat up to the act himself. “The offer is always open. I’ll be right there.” Isis could hear the smile in his voice.
“Lootchee,” Isis called out before he could hang up.
“What is it?” The smile turned into concern. “Are you okay?”
“Sure. I just wanted to say thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Lootchee said, but he thought, You can thank me later.
Chapter 27
Tricks of the Trade
It was 5 AM and Isis was up watching an early morning news program with the volume turned down low. There were too many things running around her head for her to get any rest in Lootchee’s guest room. Just being in his house twice in one day had her feeling guilty. Although she didn’t have sex with Lootchee and had no intentions of doing so, she still felt that she was betraying her husband’s trust. And that wasn’t all that had her restless. She was worried about her sister, big time. It wasn’t easy for a person who didn’t live in the state they got arrested in to get one bond, much less two. And this was Texas, which was infamous for its harsh criminal laws.
The words Breaking Story came up across the national news channel. The newscaster was saying something about a triple homicide in South Beach and sent the viewers live to the scene. Isis grabbed the remote to turn the volume up a bit.
The reporter was standing in front of a house in a neighborhood that was familiar to her. “This is Michael Rosen, reporting live. Julia, we are in front of the house of famed film producer Tre Wilson, where police were called to the scene by a neighbor. What police discovered in Wilson’s house were three dismembered male bodies,” the reporter announced. “Police would not confirm the identities of any of the deceased and would not say whether one of them is that of Tre Wilson. Someone close to the scene said that it appeared that two of the corpses were Caucasian men dressed as women. As of right now, there are no suspects or motives to this horrific crime. We are not sure if it was a hate crime, a double murder-suicide, or a random act of violence. Police are still at the scene investigating and details are still coming in. Just as soon as we have more information, we will pass it on to you. Reporting live from South Beach, Florida, this is Michael Rosen.”
“Thank you, Michael,” the anchorwoman said, before moving to the next story.
Isis was stunned. The first and the last time she had seen Tre was at the club when Logic took his car from him to hold for collateral. Now that she thought about it, there had been something odd about those giraffe-tall white girls he had left the club with, but she hadn’t quite been able to put her finger on it at the time.
Isis remembered that Logic had said that Tre was one of the people testifying against him, so maybe his death was good news. Her man just might come home sooner than she thought, and if so, maybe she finally would have a shot at happily ever after. She tried to call Sly to find out if she knew anything but wasn’t able to get a signal on her cell phone in Lootchee’s house. She drifted off to sleep thinking about all the things she and Logic would do together, only to be awakened a few hours later by a knock at the door, followed by a familiar voice.
“Sweets,” Lootchee called from the other side. “Sweets, are you up yet?”
“Yes,” she said, and yawned.
“You want to come have breakfast with me in twenty minutes?”
“Sure, that’ll be nice.”
“I tried calling your phone to ask you so that I wouldn’t disturb you if you were asleep, but you didn’t answer.”
“Yeah, I can’t get a signal here. Let me get up and pull it together.”
At breakfast Lootchee explained that he had some running around to do and that he’d be back at 12:30 to pick her up so that they could meet with Phoebe’s attorney. He also informed her that she could use his house phone if she needed to make any calls but to be ready when he returned, because they had a lot to do.
Agent Stephen Newman was at home eating an English muffin with cream cheese and drinking a cup of instant coffee. He had been eating the same breakfast every morning for ten years. He was about to take a sip of the instant caffeine jolt when his phone rang. “Damn,” the FBI agent mumbled. “Sorry, Charlie, StarKist is for tuna with good taste.” Newman answered the phone with the same line he had been using on his partner since the first day they had started working together more than three years earlier.
“Did you catch the news this morning?” Jefferson asked.
“You know I never watch that stuff before breakfast,” Newman reminded his partner. There had to be some balance in his life, a moment that didn’t involve work. And he knew that watching the news channel was like getting an itinerary for the day’s work. Newly reported crimes meant new cases to work. “What did I miss?”
“Only that the lead witness in our case against Wiseman was found slumped in his house along with two high-maintenance transvestites. The word I got, all of them had their wieners chopped off.”
Newman used the thumb and index finger of his left hand to massage his temple in a circular motion. “Tell me that this is a not-funny-at-all joke,” he said.
“Like that sorry tuna bit you won’t let go of?” Jefferson asked. “I’m afraid not. But you haven’t heard the funny part yet. The word is that they found Mr. Tre Wilson’s wiener in his mouth with the balls still attached. Besides a lot of blood—all belonging to the victims—the place was as clean as the ashtray in the pope’s car.”
“Okay,” Newman said, “we need to make sure that our other witness against Mr. Wiseman is protected around the clock. I need you to call—”
Jefferson cut him off. “I’m already ahead of you, partner. Our boy has already skipped. He’s in Tahiti. He left a message for us with his sister.”
“This is getting better by the second,” Newman said. “What was the message?”
“You’re going to love this. According to his sister, he never saw or heard about Logic Wiseman doing anything illegal. He said he made it all up because he was mad at Wiseman and other people offered him money to incriminate him. And if we went to get him, he would spend whatever time he was forced to stay in prison before he continued to lie about an innocent man.”
“This is un-fucking-believable,” Agent Newman said. “Do you know what this does to our case?”
“What case?”
Chapter 28
Really Unique
The clock read noon. Isis was dressed and almost ready. She had tried Sly again on Lootchee’s phone and left a message telling Sly she would call her from her phone when she got a signal. As Isis painted on lip gloss, Lootchee’s house phone started ringing and ringing and ringing. At first she ignored it, but it wouldn’t stop. She didn’t want to answer his phone, but whoever it was sure was determined to speak to someone. She wondered if it was Lootchee calling and decided that maybe she ought to answer it after all.
She reluctantly picked up. “Hello?”
“Hello. Who is this?” a friendly female voice asked.
“Who would you like to speak to?”
“Let me speak to Lootchee?”
“He’s not in; can I take a message?”
“Is his sister, Tee, there?”
“No, I’m sorry, she’s not in either.” Isis was getting tired of playing secretary.
“May I ask who I’m
talking to?”
“I’m a friend,” Isis replied, and then added, “Don’t worry, I’m harmless.”
“Harmless?” the caller asked. “There’s no such thing. Even a beautiful rose has thorns.” Isis chuckled at the comment. “Well, hopefully you are taking great care of him and keeping him out of trouble,” the woman on the other end of the phone said. “He needs someone who can keep him focused and bring out his good side. I pray that person is you.”
“Well, I haven’t known him a long time and I’m just a friend.”
“An innocent friend wouldn’t be in his house, trust me. He must really think a lot of you.”
“Who is this again?” Isis asked because the caller was giving off a crazy vibe that she couldn’t really read. Was this a setup? Had Lootchee had someone call her just to feel her out or feed her some lines on his behalf?
“I’m not anyone. A fly on the wall that’s all. One of his slaves you might say,” she added.
“You’re saying the man has slaves?”
“Yes, and don’t ask. Anyway, it was really nice talking to you. I hope you have a wonderful day, and by the way, let him know that Unique called. Tell him that I have some important information for him.”
“No problem, Unique.”
“Be careful, Miss I’m-Just-a-Friend,” Unique said before she hung up.
Be careful? She’s a slave? What the hell does she mean by all that? What does she do for him?
Isis’s thoughts were interupted when she heard the alarm talking. “System disarmed.” Lootchee had arrived. He greeted her with a large bouquet of flowers and tickets to a play on Friday. She had to give it to the man, he was definitely persistent.
“You ready?” he asked. “The driver is waiting in the car.”
“All set,” Isis replied, grabbing her purse and then following Lootchee out to the car.