The Banks Sisters 2

by Nikki Turner

  Done doing the deed, Bunny left the small stall. Without an inch of remorse for the slaying or fear of getting caught, she nonchalantly walked over to the sink. Not wanting to have sweaty and bloody palms, she thoroughly washed her hands. Coldly, Bunny smiled as she looked into the mirror admiring herself and who she was. Perfect as always. Not a hair out of place. Without a doubt, I’m that bitch!

  Going back into the main area of the noisy club, Bunny had no idea whatsoever that her sister’s man, Detective Chase Dugan, was sitting only a few yards away. Even if she did know his police ass was in the house, that still wouldn’t have halted her plan of the assassination of the cocky stripper. With pride in her stride, she casually walked out the front doors feeling almost whole again. Bunny was now satisfied that Tiffany got what was coming to her for being such a slimeball. The grubby trick had a bad habit of setting paid Negros up, so now she got a little payback. Like Tiffany said when she tried to go momentarily hard, it was all part of the game. Now Bunny would focus on tracking this dude Dino down just like she’d done Tiffany. She now had tunnel vision for making him pay for his sins; him and his boys. They’d taken Spoe from her, now they had to repay that debt in full. Dino and the entire Bloody Lions Posse would wish they were back in NYC when she was done. In time, baby, I promise I will get them all!

  After the valet pulled Bunny’s car up and handed her the keys, she smiled. With pride, she blessed him yet again. This time, with a crumbled up fifty-dollar bill. Working for tips, he would never forget her and her generosity that night.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Detective Dugan and Officer Jakes finished sipping on their juices while watching a few more females shake their asses and swing from the pole. Looking down at his watch, Jakes finally made mention that it didn’t seem as if the girl Tiffany was coming back to sit with them.

  “I mean, really, man, how long does it take to go to the bathroom? I done took a full-on dump in less time.”

  “Maybe she’s in the dressing room changing outfits or something. You know how vain these dancers are, especially one as fine as that one is. Maybe she’s somewhere giving lap dances or something.”

  “You think?” Jakes gave Chase the “nigga please” side eye. “It’s been a mighty long damn time, and we still out here waiting like some lames.”

  “Naw, you might just be right, guy. That girl might be slicker than I thought. Maybe I scared her off. I hope not, because she has the potential to be the link we need to close these cases out once and for all.”

  Just as the two police were exchanging their spate speculations of what was taking Tiffany so long, one of the other dancers ran out the side of the stage as if there was someone or something chasing her. Her arms were flinging from side to side and she called out to Jesus to help her repeatedly. With the piercing sounds of her screaming exceeding the volume of the music blasting through the speakers, all eyes were on her. Through the tears flowing and her painful sobbing, the officers of the law instinctively approached the growing crowd of staff and other patrons to see what all the commotion was about. In a matter of seconds, a tidal wave of gossip swept throughout the club. The distraught dancer tragically had discovered one of her own dead in bathroom stall with her neck sliced wide open.

  “I-I-I—” she stuttered as the tears continued to pour out from her red eyes. “I went in there to pee and check my makeup because the dressing room was so crowded, and there was blood on the floor. It was like someone spilled something. It was just running from the stall to the drain. I ain’t know what it was at first,” she started screaming again as she relived what she’d just seen. “I seen somebody’s legs and body when I looked under the door. I tried to push it open, and at first, it was kinda stuck. Then I used my hip and peeked in. It was-it was-it was—” Now damn near hysterical, the stripper was putting on a performance worthy of winning an Academy Award. “It was Tiffany lying on the floor! It was her—Tiffany! Our Tiffany! Oh my God! Her neck was bleeding. It was open—like a big hole open; like something tried to tear her neck from her body! I saw it! I saw it! Her eyes was wide open like she was looking at me or something. There was blood everywhere. Then she had a lot of money stuffed in her mouth. Well, not a lot, but some.” The dancer continued with her hysterics, putting on the ultimate performance.

  Detective Dugan and Officer Jakes wasted no more time. Immediately, they made the announcement that they were police and for everyone to step back. After practically fighting to clear everyone out of the women’s bathroom, they saw firsthand that the wild story the stripper was claiming she’d seen was indeed true. The club headliner Tiffany they were waiting to question about the bank robberies and several murders had been murdered herself . . . only a few yards from where they were sitting nursing two glasses of fruit juice. Without hesitation, the detective called the crime in. Dugan and Officer Jakes then secured the murder scene, trying to preserve any evidence that hadn’t already been destroyed or compromised by the stunned dancers, staff, and nosy patrons that all had their cell phones in hand, cruelly recording the unfortunate occurrence.

  Finally clearing the scene of all patrons and dancers, Detective Dungan turned to Officer Jakes. “How in the world are we going to explain this shit when we were only feet away? This is not going to be good.”

  “Well, all we can do now is prepare for our asses being ripped wide open! Shit!”

  * * *

  News cameras and reporters were posted outside Treat’s Gentlemen’s Club. As the early-morning crowds of gawkers gathered, so did the rumors of what exactly had taken place. Throughout the years the adult entertainment establishment was open, there had been more than several shootings outside the perimeter. And more than their fair share of physical altercations inside the dwelling. But this was the first time the rambunctious club had experienced this type of violent crime; a heinous murder in the bathroom.

  As the owner and staff were getting questioned, more than close to seventy-five to a hundred patrons had retreated from the club to either avoid contact with the law, having their faces shown on television, or run the risk of their girlfriends, spouses, or significant others finding out where they’d been all evening. This had not been overlooked by the police. Of course, one of them was possibly the killer, but with all the club’s security cameras broken, identifying any or all of them would be an almost impossible feat.

  “So, you telling me you two knuckleheads were in here when this girl was murdered? What in the hell y’all want me to tell the mayor? Y’all want me to tell him two of my top men I got working on the high-profile bank robberies got their heads stuck so far up in their asses they can’t speculate not one person that could’ve sliced her damn neck wide open like that?” The chief of police was livid. The mayor was up for reelection and was trying his best to get a strong-arm handle on the spike in violent crimes throughout the city. The more disturbed and angrier the mayor got, the more pressure he applied to his handpicked appointed chief of police. Of course, shit rolled downhill, so Detective Dugan and Officer Jakes were facing a full-blown shit storm of it.

  “Chief, hold up. Hear me out,” the detective bargained, trying to explain. “We were here and did indeed speak to the victim. She said she was going to the bathroom and would return. I mean, we sat right here and waited. There was no way we could have known this was going to happen.”

  “Like I said, you two sat a few yards away while that girl was being murdered. My freaking policemen! On my watch! Damn! Right in there,” he disappointedly pointed over toward the roped off bathroom. “First, the string of robberies. Then all these dead bodies washing up on shore. My men just got called out to the scene of two more. These two were stabbed up and set on fire.”

  Detective Dugan was tired of getting chewed out for trying to do his job and decided to speak out to clear his name, no matter what the outcome. “Okay, Chief, look. She said she was going to the bathroom. I mean, what did you want us to do? Follow her in there and watch her do whatever women do in ther
e? The walls ain’t made of glass. How in the hell could we see what was going down? You know like I do, it only takes one second to kill someone if you really want to. Just like everybody else that we done interviewed, we didn’t see or hear anything either. There was nothing to indicate something of that nature was going to happen.”

  The chief wanted to yell and berate his officers further, but unfortunately, he had to step outside and deal with the reporters that were getting small bits and pieces of conflicting information regarding the crime. He knew they were trying to go live with their early news program scheduling, so he felt it best to appease them. “Hey, just do what you need to do to get this bullshit under control! All our damn jobs depend on it! And, Detective, you might as well get ready and get yourself all pretty for these damn cameras outside. If I gotta face this firing squad, you’re coming with me!”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Ginger glanced over at the black leather couch and licked his lips. Pastor Street was just where he’d left him after their last wild go-around; stretched out butt-asshole naked. After all the “special attention” he’d shown the pastor, he finally got the favor returned; more than once or twice. Slowly reaching for his cell, he placed the volume on silent. After making sure the flash was off, Ginger started taking picture after picture of the religious sleeping beauty. Placing the risqué photos in the same file as the scandalous video Bunny had taken at Me-Ma’s and sent to him, Ginger smirked with satisfaction. He knew these pictures might come in handy one day, but hoped there would be no need. Placing his cell back in his blue jean pocket, Ginger crawled his perfect female-shaped body over toward the couch. Wanting to get one more taste of Cassius Street’s juices before the sun came all the way up, Ginger took all of him in his mouth. As he eagerly sucked and slurped to the tune of the birds starting to chirp outside the church’s window, the man of God woke up stiff as a board, and ready to go a few more rounds. With his right hand on the rear of Ginger’s head and the left unknowingly on top of a Bible, Pastor Street jerked with pleasure, quickly shooting his early-morning load off into Ginger’s warm, moist mouth.

  “Hey, you. Good morning,” Cassius spoke with none of the shame or bashfulness he had the night before. They’d been pleasuring each other for hours on end, so all the strict formalities were a thing of the past.

  Ginger happily swallowed the thick substance before speaking. “Hey, yourself. How did you sleep?”

  “Like a baby.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “Hey, what time is it?” Cassius heard the birds and looked at his watch. He had morning-prayer offerings scheduled. And even though he’d enjoyed the night he and Ginger shared, the money-greedy preacher didn’t want to miss out on his extra pocket money. With clothes to get out to the cleaners, he had plans of using this morning’s collected funds to pay the tab.

  “It’s time for me to be getting up, huh?”

  “Well . . . it’s just that . . .”

  Ginger knew what that meant and had no problem with taking the walk of shame. Slipping on his jeans, then his shoes, he bent over pecking the pastor on his bare chest. “Soooo, listen, Cassius. Before I be out, we need to chop it up.”

  “About?”

  “About that deed Me-Ma left to you in her will.”

  “The deed?”

  “Yes, silly Negro, yes, the deed. The deed to the house that belongs to me and my sisters!”

  Pastor Street stood to his feet. Grabbing for his clothes that were scattered all about the church office, he looked confused. “I’m sorry, Ginger, but what about the deed?”

  “Well, are you going to give us back our damn house or what?” Ginger caught an immediate attitude, shifting all his weight onto one hip. “I know you don’t think it’s yours to keep. Do you?”

  “No, Ginger, I don’t think it’s mine to keep.”

  “You damn straight it’s not yours!”

  “Yes, it belongs to the church. That’s the way your grandmother wanted it to be, and shouldn’t we honor and respect her wishes?”

  “What the fuck you trying to say?”

  “Like I told you and your sisters, if you all would like to bid on the house, I definitely don’t have a problem with that. I told all four of you this is not personal; it’s strictly business.”

  Ginger was irate. Wanting to destroy everything in the small office, he chilled the best he possibly could. “Oh, so you think it’s that easy to gank the Banks sisters? You think we gonna fold just like that, huh? It’s going to be that easy, huh?”

  Pastor Street sensed the extreme rage in Ginger’s mannerisms and took a few steps backward in case he had to retreat. “So was getting the deed back what this was about—me and you? I mean, was that the plan; the big picture? If so, thank you, but no, thank you!”

  “It wasn’t at first, but if you think you can just take back all that fucking and sucking I done did, you sadly mistaken. But since you feeling like it’s whatever, then, let it be. Let it motherfucking ride! I’m about to be all up in my zone!” Ginger placed his hands on his hips and rolled his neck. It was obvious the lustful nature shared last night between the two men had changed drastically. Ginger was not with the games anymore; from anyone. He’d watched Bunny kill his mother and didn’t shed a single tear, so as far as he was concerned, wasn’t no man, woman, or beast gonna move him. He was unbreakable.

  “Wait one minute. First, are you threatening me? Second, didn’t you want it too?” Pastor Street then calmly asked like he was some sort of a superhero eyeballing the villain. “Because if you are—”

  “Naw, guy, I don’t do threats, but man to man, you might wanna tighten that slick tone of yours up. I might dress like a female, but please don’t try me! I’m not only good with my mouth but with my hands as well.”

  “Once again, Ginger, what are you saying? Please just spit it out! I’m not good with all these word and mind games!”

  “Nigga, please, fall all the way back. You’re the king, or should I say the low-key flaming queen of master fucking manipulation.”

  “What?” the pastor asked as if what Ginger was saying had no great merit.

  “You heard me, chump. I mean, that’s how you swindled our grandmother in the first place, ain’t it? With that velvet tongue you had buried deep in my asshole last night!”

  “Excuse me,” he twisted his face not believing how Ginger had flipped in a mere matter of minutes. “I don’t take anything from anyone. Now, if these women want to all bless me with gifts of all sorts, who am I to turn down what God has for me? I never asked your grandmother to give the church anything. She did that all on her own.”

  Ginger headed for the door and evilly giggled before leaving. “Let’s just say, Pastor Good-Dick-Sucking-Street, you better stay prayed up fucking with me and mines! You playing like you all rough and tough, but let’s be clear . . . Me and my sisters are about that life! By the way, I hope Me-Ma is looking down on you so you better prepare yourself for what’s coming your way, Pastor Low-Dick-Loving-Street.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  For the first time in over a week, Simone actually had a good night’s sleep. Unlike her siblings, she woke up in her own bed. Tallhya was sedated at the mental hospital. Ginger had gone ho hopping with Pastor Street, and Bunny had checked into a cheap hotel off the interstate to clear her mind. Even though she’d suffered through numerous heartaches, trials, and tribulations recently, she felt as if things might be looking up for her.

  The fact that she’d witnessed her mother being killed the day before by her sister in the very house she had slept in meant nothing. Simone was good with it. Fixing herself a strong cup of coffee, she tied the belt on her robe. After yawning, she lazily slid her house shoes across the kitchen floor. Going into the living room, Simone placed her mug on the sofa table. Ready to catch the early-morning newscast, she plopped down on the couch. As she clicked the remote channel surfing, Simone finally came to the Good Morning, Richmond program. Waiting anxiously for the cheerful
anchors to finish with the first weather and traffic report of the broadcast, Simone watched the breaking news banner flash across the thirty-two inch flat screen. Praying she and Ginger’s deadly secret by the James River hadn’t been immediately discovered, she bit at the side of her fingernails. God had blessed her to get away with so much shenanigans as of recently, she knew it was only a matter of time before the devil himself stepped in and intercepted her good luck. To Simone’s relief, the top story of the morning started with an overnight fatal shooting at a strip club. Taking a small sip of her coffee she turned up the volume.

  * * *

  “Accurate reports are hard to come by at this time; however, from what we can gather, it was indeed a homicide that took place in the late hours of the night in the building behind me. The few witnesses that were willing to speak to us off camera say that it was a little after midnight when the victim, now identified as Tiffany K. Ross, age twenty-five, a dancer at Treat’s Gentlemen’s Club, was last seen exiting the stage. Another employee stated she’d spoken to her briefly before she went inside the bathroom. Our sources also tell us that the bathroom, located a few yards from the main area of the adult entertainment establishment, was the place where she was murdered. Apparently, there was some sort of altercation between her and the assailant. Not yet able to identify the perpetrator, the authorities are looking for some assistance from some of the many patrons that were inside the club at the time when the brutal crime was committed. Earlier, we spoke to the chief of police and Detective Chase Dugan who we are more than familiar with from the dual bank robberies that took place last week.”