by Nikki Turner
“Hotel? Hey, now, girl. So where you from? Are you here on business or pleasure?”
Bunny acted as if she hadn’t heard his question and started to sample more of the food on her plate. “Well, Dino, I must tell you that your choice of menu is off the chain. I haven’t eaten food this tasty and authentic since I was last in Kingston.”
Dino was now even more intrigued with the woman he believed to be from out of town. Running his fingers through his dreads, he leaned in closer. “Hold tight, baby doll, you’ve been to Kingston?”
Oh my God, why don’t he stop it already? Bunny was sick and tired of him referring to her as baby doll, but she felt that must’ve been his thing so she went with it, although annoyed. “Of course, I’ve been to Kingston; several times, matter of fact. Montego Bay twice and Negril, but only once there.”
Once again, Dino, the flamboyant shit-talking drug dealer, was almost speechless. In a club filled with hood rats, he’d been bless on the eve of his birthday to link up with a woman of substance and class; someone he thought was on his level. “Okay, then, baby doll, I see you. It seems like you get around.”
“If you mean get around as in terms of traveling for business as well as some pleasure when I find time, then, yes, what you say is true. I do get around. Spain, Bangkok, China, Vietnam, South America, Mexico, Peru, and the Bahamas, not to mention your fair Jamaica. Yup, I definitely do.” Bunny talked to him as if she was scolding some small child that had butchered the English language. I don’t know who in the fuck this ignorant porch monkey thinks he’s talking to! He got me all the way messed up; like I’m one of them ghetto trash-pole-swinging whores like Tiffany he’s used to dealing with. He’s gonna respect my gangsta one way or another!
It was very apparent the way he handled most of the women that he came across would not work on this one. She already was shutting him down without any effort, and he was dumbfounded. “Look, baby doll, I didn’t mean any disrespect. A rude boy like me just trying to get to know you and all about you.” He grabbed Bunny’s hand and started rubbing the top side in a circular motion. “You think you can let that go down, baby doll?”
“Okay, then, Dino. Well, we can start by you addressing me as Krissi, my government name my parents blessed me with, okay? And not that baby doll pet name you probably call all these other women up in here that hang on your every word.”
“Really?” Dino frowned with a weird smile.
“Yes, really. Do you think that’s at all possible? I mean, excuse me, Dino, but I certainly hope you realize I’m not in the same category as these struggling groupies wanting a come up off their backs. I make my own money and lots of it when the opportunity is correct.”
Dino was listening with a keen ear, not only the way Krissi spoke, but the roundabout way she was speaking of her travels abroad. He knew she wasn’t just a chick from the hood he could treat like a piece of shit, then pass on to one of his posse members. Krissi appeared to possibly be the answer to his prayers; a new lead on a new connect or a female counterpart who was not terrified of being a drug mule. Either one, not excluding just being a fresh hot piece of pussy, he was down for the challenge. “You know what? I don’t think that at all. I think you are the hottest female in here, and if you let me, I’m gonna make you mine!”
And here we go. This nigga done fell for the shit, hook, line, and sinker, just as planned. I swear I can’t wait to watch this fool bleed out nice and slow for killing Spoe. Bunny sipped on the expensive liquor he’d ordered and grinned in Dino’s face, making him believe that what he was saying was all good.
A few minutes of Bunny playing the role turned into a solid hour of Dino ignoring his other party guests. Posted at her private booth trying to plead his case and convince her he was indeed the man around town, Bunny had stomached just about enough. It was a hard task to even lay eyes on the dreadlocked beast who caused her world to turn upside down, but now she had to endure him trying to push up on her. When he started to describe how elaborate of a lifestyle he was living, she wanted to reach across the table and paw his ugly face with her manicured nails. Hearing Dino boast about his imported light fixtures, marble kitchen countertops, and solid gold-handle toilet he took a dump on every morning made Bunny tremble with rage, but she continued to play it off as having caught a sudden chill in the air. The icing on the cake was hearing him brag about the tree-lined wooded area that surrounded his estate. Having to contain herself from throwing up in his face again, Bunny slightly gagged knowing what Tiffany had claimed to be true only seconds before she sent her on her way . . . Spoe was chased into those woods . . . hunted down like a wild animal . . . then murdered in cold blood before being tossed into the river. All those heinous, unforgivable acts were committed at the hands of the infamous Dino who was sitting a few inches away.
It was all the normally cool, calm, and collected Bunny could do to stay in character and adhere to the treacherously intentioned game plan. Checking her watch, she informed him she had a prior engagement she couldn’t be late for. Dino was visibly disappointed she was about to leave and voiced his regrets. Showing no shame, he begged her to stay a little while longer. Of course, she was not having that. From experience, Bunny knew men, or people in general, always wanted what they couldn’t have. She knew she needed to make sure she was unavailable to Dino on his terms and only on hers. Taking his number while refusing to give him hers, Bunny promised to call him the next day so that they could meet for a late dinner. As she left the VIP area, she looked over into one of the many mirrors seeing Dino still sitting in her booth looking like a lovesick animal in heat.
Oh, hell, yeah! Most definitely I got his ho ass for sure! He thinks he’s that deal; I’ma show that nigga how a Banks sister really gets down!
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Sunday mornings were always a big deal in the Banks’s household. Me-Ma would prepare a breakfast fit for a king. Everything from pancakes, bacon, ham, scrambled eggs and sausage, to biscuits, waffles, omelets, and oatmeal were liable to be on the menu. Some Sundays when she was really feeling good, she’d prepare all her breakfast treats and invite her church prayer warriors to partake before heading to a long day of two services.
Sadly, since Mildred Banks’s death, her granddaughters chose to not carry on that traditional making of breakfast or church a part of their Sunday routine. However, this particular Sunday was different; at least for two out of the four of Me-Ma’s grandkids. Ginger was up at the crack of dawn. Having not been able to sleep a wink, the anticipation of coming face-to-face with his Bible-toting fuck buddy was almost too much to bear. He’d taken his shower, brushed his teeth, and shaved his legs. Gorgeous dressed as a woman, Ginger was just as fine when he wore a suit and a tie and went by the name given to him at birth: Gene Jamar Banks. Only bringing Gene back out of the closet on special occasions, this was, no doubt, going to be one of those days.
After spit shining one of the only two pairs of men’s shoes he owned, Ginger was beside himself with joy. Getting dressed, he looked in the floor-length mirror and nodded with confidence and satisfaction. By the time Simone had awaken and stumbled still half-asleep to the bathroom, Ginger was downstairs finishing his second bowl of cereal. “Hurry up, girl, and get ready. We need to be holding down the front pew.”
“Slow down, fool! I thought your crazy ass wanted to make some sort of big flamboyant entrance,” Simone yelled down from the top of the stairs. “I mean, that’s what you said last night, or was I mistaken?”
Ginger pumped his brakes nagging Simone to speed up. He knew she would be ready to rock and roll when the time came at church, so that was all that mattered. Still hyped and geeked for the adventure of the day to get started, Ginger went to go stand on the front porch and get some fresh air. Deciding to smoke some weed before Sunday service, he reflected on how he hoped the morning would go and how he would be a hero in all three of his sisters’ eyes for getting their family house back in their rightful hands.
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The Faith and Hope Ministries choir was in rare form as the doors of the church opened. The choir welcomed in everyone with a spiritual hymn. “Lord, keep me day by day in a pure and perfect way. I want to live; I want to live on in a building not made by hand. Lord, keep my body strong so that I can do no wrong. Lord, give me grace just to run this Christian race to a building not made by hand. I’m just a stranger here traveling through this barren land. Lord, I know there’s a building somewhere, in a building not made by hand.”
Unlike most traditional message bearers of the Lord, Pastor Cassius Street was different. He was known around town for not only being flamboyant and over the top in his choice of expensive clothing he wore around town strutting like a proud peacock, but as a trendsetter in his preaching methods. He didn’t wait for the congregation to come inside and get seated to get the Sunday services started; he had the choir greet them in song and celebration no sooner than they crossed the threshold.
“Good morning, little sister. Good morning, brother, and you too, Sister Mabel,” Pastor Street happily greeted a family of his parishioners at the door, then another followed by many others. “It’s a great day the Lord has blessed us with. The sun is shining bright, and we all awoke to see it! Praise God!” The more openhearted folk that came to worship, the more revenue the conniving preacher saw, not only in the church kitty but his pockets as well. Still somewhat disturbed by his awkward overnight conversation with Ginger—turned argument, then a battle of threats—Cassius searched the crowd of people rushing the door to praise the Lord. Thankfully, he didn’t see Ginger, which was a true blessing. Good. Maybe he and his sisters have decided to give it a rest and just let sleeping dogs lie. I wish they would just give up this silly notion of trying to get back what Mother Banks left to me and this church; well, me, anyways, he sinisterly pondered.
Just like that, it was as if the devil himself showed up to rain on the parade of glory the preacher was caught up in. Simone Banks had just placed one foot on the stairs of the church and was heading upward. Linked arm in arm with a man wearing a suit and a tie, Pastor Street braced himself for what she possibly might say to him . . . especially if Ginger had divulged their late-night or wild-raw banging or sloppy no-holds-barred oral sex romp in the living room. Now, one of Me-Ma’s granddaughters was only feet away, and he knew that could easily spell trouble. Pastor Street hoped Simone would be thinking clearly this morning and would be the normal voice of reason he’d known her to be when dealing with situations in the past.
“Good morning, Ms. Banks.”
“Well, hello, there, Pastor Street. How are you this bright sunshiny morning?” Simone returned his pleasantries, still holding onto the arm of the slender-built man. “I trust all is well with you.”
Stunned by Simone’s nonconfrontational demeanor, the pastor was close to being speechless. Mustering up some words, he finally responded. “Umm . . . Yes, Ms. Banks, all is well this morning. I see you brought a guest to share in worship with us today.”
“Whoever do you mean?” Simone looked around still clutching the man’s arm.
“Yeah, who is the guest you’re talking about, Pastor Street? I was born into this parish and baptized by Pastor Jasper years before you even took over this church.” Ginger removed his sunglasses, then smirked. His recent secret fuck-buddy slightly stumbled backward at the sight. Luckily, there was one of the church deacons close by to catch the wide-eyed pastor’s forearm.
Having his balance restored, Cassius fought hard to get the lump out of his throat that’d instantly formed, realizing Ginger was not dressed in his usual attire as a female. “Oh my God,” he mumbled so that the other churchgoers would not hear him as they strolled by.
“I know, right? Oh my God,” Ginger beamed with pride while fixing his multicolor print tie. Feeling smug, he then placed his shades back onto his makeup-removed face and shifted all his weight on one hip. “See, it really doesn’t matter what a fly diva like me be rocking; a lace thong up my perfect ass crack or silk boxers so this caramel big-headed python I got dangling between my legs can breathe; I’m still that bitch fools love to hate!”
Simone giggled, watching the nervous Pastor Street start to sweat. “Wow, you better get out of this hot sun and get Sunday service started. I can’t wait to hear what your sermon is about today. Me and my special guest, Mister Gene Banks, will be sitting front and center in the pew our grandmother paid for; the one with the Banks family brass plaque attached. I mean, that’s not going to be a problem, is it, Pastor?”
Ginger stepped toward Cassius, then leaned inward. “Unless you trying to snatch that motherfucker from underneath us as well!”
With those statements from both Simone and Ginger, they rudely did not wait for a response from Me-Ma’s favorite pastor before she collapsed, passing away. Cassius didn’t say a word as Ginger let his shoulder deliberately bump into his. The duo then brushed by, marching through the front doors of the church, elated that they’d thrown Pastor Street off his square. Most of the folk in the building didn’t recognize Ginger without his makeup and full head of expensive weave, but for the handful of parishioners that did, it automatically set their tongues wagging. Not caring that they were in the confines of the church sanctuary, they still gossiped and backbit.
By the time Simone and Ginger greeted everyone and took their rightful seats front and center, the entire church was either leaning over whispering in each other’s ears or was confused about what the true meaning was of Ginger transforming back into Gene after all these years of attending service dressed however he saw fit ... despite frowns and judgments. The boisterous tones of their supposed Christian voices floating through the packed pews were soon silenced as their always holier-than-thou head of the church walked up toward the pulpit. The choir finished singing the processional hymn and took their seats. Pastor Cassius Street cleared his throat and was ready to start Sunday services.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Bunny woke up for the first time since Spoe’s death feeling whole; like things were finally looking up. She knew her heart and emotions would always bear mental scars from the passing of the love of her life, but she could deal with that if she got satisfaction. Bunny was definitely not back at 100 percent, but she was pretty close to getting there.
Yesterday had been a true test of her patience and how dedicated she was to get what she wanted at the club, yet the beginning of the day wasn’t very acceptable. Having a gigantic argument with Simone and Ginger about the stolen money and what they believed to be an unwarranted obsession with her hanging Dino out to dry had taken a serious toll on her mental well-being. As far back as Bunny could remember, she and her three siblings were thick as thieves. And even though they would have small squabbles or disagreements like most kids did with one another, they were raised by Me-Ma to never call the next person out of their name, go to bed mad, or let an outsider come in between them. Disrespectful to her deceased grandmother’s memory, Bunny had broken the rules doing all three. Now as she lay in the bed with thoughts of killing Dino the next time she set eyes on him, or the very moment the opportunity presented itself, she knew she had to make things right with Simone and Ginger.
As bad as the brokenhearted diva just wanted to go underground again for a few days until things blew over with her sisters, the truth of the matter was she didn’t have time, or the resources, to do so. Thanks to Spoe’s greedy mother and good-for-nothing sister taking all the things of value in the condo when they found out he was dead, there was not much of a selection to choose from to maybe pawn or sell to get up on some much-needed cash. She’d already sold the bracelet and earrings she’d stolen off of Tiffany and used that cash for flossing the night before. And now she was down to her last couple of hundred-dollar bills. Bunny did want to make up with Simone and Ginger, that was true. But the fact that she needed for them to agree to come up with her share of the loot from the bank robbery was much more important.
Bunny needed that money, at le
ast a small-size chunk of it, for later on that day and possibly the evening. She was going to call Dino and take him up on his offer for dinner and wanted to make sure she could stunt again, if need be. She’d already got the drug-dealer murderer intrigued and thinking she could maybe be a link to a new connect.
Born with a strange sixth sense, Bunny Banks was beyond excellent at reading people’s true facial expressions and mannerisms. Always being told by Me-Ma that she behaved like she’d been here before and knew too much, she quickly realized all she had to do was take a little more time to talk to Dino and get in his head and he’d be practically begging her to be alone with him. Unfortunately for his thirst-trap-pussy-hound ass, it would be to his certain demise. What Spoe’s loyal wifey had in store for the dreadlocked leader of the Bloody Lions Posse would be worse than any sexually transmitted death sentence disease he could catch from one of the hood rats he was used to banging raw on the regular; that gut-bucket-dead-pole-twirling-for-dollars Tiffany included.
Well, let me get this bullshit over with and call Simone. I need to let her and that damn crazy-ass Ginger know I ain’t got time to be messing around. I need some of that damn money; at least a couple of racks. After Simone’s cell rang several times, Bunny got the voice mail. Opting to not leave a message, she held the phone in her hand, planning to call back in five minutes. Before she could get a chance to hit redial, a small envelope appeared in the upper left-hand corner and a notification beep. Tapping the envelope-shaped icon, she read the text message sent from her sister. At church. Ginger bout 2 clown. It’s gonna be a showstopper. Those brief words were followed by several emojis that had Bunny both laughing and worried. Oh well, I’ll catch up with them at the house later. I know they can hold it down. I mean, what kind of craziness can Ginger really do at church of all places?