by Nikki Turner
Wolfe then asked, “Did Buffy have something to do with this?”
“She told them to kill me. But they said I was worth more money alive than dead.”
“What else do you remember?”
“Not much.”
Rydah’s parents entered the room, and that was Wolfe’s signal to exit, but he didn’t want to make it obvious, so he stayed for a few minutes longer.
Maestro came with people from his church, rejoicing that Tallhya was alive and safe. Amanda couldn’t stop talking about how the two sisters needed to be more careful and stop being so trusting.
Wolfe held face as long as he could, but it was time for him to leave. He needed to hit the streets and get to the bottom of things. He said his good-byes and left the room.
* * *
Wolfe was at The Lady Lagoon on business. The manager told him that the owner would be out to see him shortly. To pass the time, Wolfe copped a seat at one of the strip club’s ten bars, nursing a Heineken and a double shot of Remy. On stage to his left, a half-naked dancer gave him the eye. She was mixed: half Chinese and half black, but it was obvious to anyone with eyes that the black genes were the more dominant of the two. The honey was as thick as a bowl of oatmeal and fine as a summer evening on a white-sand beach. Wolfe wasn’t the least bit interested and ignored her advances.
The Lady Lagoon was open 24/7, had four stages, and kept at least forty strippers on payroll at all times, even on the slowest nights. On the weekends, there were sometimes as many as two hundred girls making niggas throw money like it was water and they were trying to put out a fire.
The owner of The Lady Lagoon was a man named Jaffey Logan, a serial club owner and legend among anyone in that circle. He had a long history of owning spots throughout South Florida, mainly Miami, and he had his hand in every part of the industry, from clubs to liquor to promotions to prostitution. Jaffey knew as much about running night clubs as Sam Walton knew about retail. In the 80’s and 90’s when the nightlife scene was at an all-time high, Jaffey sat at the top of the mountain and collected an avalanche of money. Unfortunately, when the bubble burst, the paper evaporated as quickly as it came.
After finishing his phone call with the liquor warehouse, Jaffey exited his office donning a fresh pair green gators and a green linen suit. He was told that someone was waiting to see him, and that someone was no other than Wolfe. Adjusting the angle of his hat, Jaffey wondered what Wolfe wanted with him. Wolfe wasn’t the type that frequented clubs of any kind, unless it was an absolute necessity. Never for pleasure.
Jaffey spotted Wolfe sitting at the bar and reluctantly began walking in that direction. He owed Wolfe a little over ten million dollars.
Wolfe was still facing the bar when Jaffey snuck up behind him. The music was blasting. Jaffey was about to tap him on the shoulder.
Wolfe said, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
How the hell did he see me? Jaffey wondered.
“Have a seat.” Wolfe finished off his cognac and placed the empty glass on the bar.
“What brings you to this side of the Intracoastal, my man?” Jaffey wasn’t used to Wolfe just popping up. “I thought you said I could have until the end of the month to make that payment. After Memorial Day.”
When the recession hit in ’08, puncturing the real estate market, Jaffey reached out to Wolfe for help. Wolfe knew that Jaffey was a legend in the business, but he also knew that Jaffey had vices. If Jaffey hadn’t been an owner, he would have been an owner’s best customer. He loved women, gambling, cocaine, and flossing, a mixture that, more times than not, led to a dead end.
In all actuality, it wasn’t a really good idea for Jaffey to have his own strip clubs, because he indulged with the help too much—but no one could deny that he knew how to get the people to come to not just the strip clubs, but the party clubs as well. That was why Wolfe floated Jaffey the first $2 million. He genuinely had love for the dude. Wolfe also believed in Jaffey, although he knew that he would probably never get all of his money back.
Jaffey always did what he could, and everything wasn’t about money. Because Jaffey knew people in high places, he was better off to Wolfe alive than dead. So Wolfe continued to bankroll his clubs, but not lately—the buck had stopped, but the tab was still there, and Jaffey always paid something. He never wanted be on Wolfe’s bad side. Who in their right mind would?
And this was why Jaffey rolled the red carpet out to Rydah at any club she wanted to go to. Most times she was treated better than a lot of so-called celebrities. Jaffey made sure that all of his staff knew who she was, and if they didn’t damn near bend over to kiss her ass, they were fired on the spot. It was the least he could do considering the ballooning tab that he owed her man.
When Wolfe said, “I’m not here about the payments,” Jaffey breathed easier. Until then, he’d been holding his breath.
“Then what can I do for you?”
“I need all of the surveillance tapes from Club Hoax.”
Jaffey was both relieved and confused. He was relieved that Wolfe hadn’t come for an early payment, and he was confused as to why Wolfe would want the surveillance tapes from Club Hoax. “Is there something I should know about? You never struck me as the type that needed to check up on his woman.”
Wolfe said, “How and when I check on my lady is none of your business. But that’s not the reason I’m asking for the footage. I got a hunch that the footage may clarify for me.”
Jaffey knew better than to ask what the hunch was about. Wolfe was relentless and methodical when he had had a hunch. Best to leave well enough alone. “No problem,” he said.
Wolfe made it clear what he wanted. “I need all the footage—from both inside and outside the club—for the past three weeks.”
“It’s going to take me a day or two to get it together, but you got it.” He didn’t want to make Wolfe upset. “And for the record,” he said, “I always treat Rydah like the queen that she is, giving her carte blanche.”
“Appreciate it,” Wolfe said.
“Don’t mention it. She’s so beautiful and classy and carries herself as a lady.”
“Yeah, she sure does,” Wolfe bluntly said.
Jaffey nixed the ass-kissing and small talk and got straight to the request. “I’ll make the call immediately. And as for the payment, I’ll have it for you right after Memorial Day. It’s always real fruitful for me around those times.”
“For the entire city,” Wolfe said.
Wolfe finished his Heineken, talked to a few people who were vying for his attention, and then kept it pushing. Business as usual.
Chapter 23
The Fonz
Tallhya was discharged from the Memorial Regional Hospital at 9:17. Rydah had been waiting there to pick her up since six in the morning. Outside, the sky was slate gray and gloomy. Tallhya thought it was apropos to the way she felt inside.
Due to the injuries she incurred—two fractured ribs and a bruised eye socket—the doctor informed Tallhya that any cosmetic surgeries she’d planned would have to be postponed for at least six weeks. Six weeks was the “if she was lucky” date.
The news hit her like a cement bag in the gut, knocking what little wind was left in her already nearly depleted sails.
Rydah decided to make a detour before taking Tallhya to her parents’ house, stopping by a little trendy diner downtown, where the food was always on point. Rydah ordered two of the specials: 2 eggs (prepared any way you like), home fries, bacon, sausage (or ham), and buttered toast with jelly. As always, the cook did his thing. The food was delectable.
Rydah chomped off half a sausage link in one bite and chased it with a forkful of cheesy scrambled eggs.
Tallhya’s plate went untouched.
“Why aren’t you eating?”
“Don’t have much of an appetite.”
If she couldn’t get her surgery, then Tallhya figured she would starve herself to lose the weight. She was tired of being labeled “the cute bi
g one” or “the fat Banks sister.”
Rydah took another bite of the sausage. “You should at least try your home fries,” she said.
“At least be woman enough to stare,” Tallhya said loudly enough for the two women who were stealing glances at her when they thought she wasn’t looking. “Bitches!” She said to Rydah, “Can we get out of here?”
Pushing her plate away, Rydah said, “Sure. If you don’t want to be here, we out.” Rydah dipped into her purse, pulling out a couple of twenty-dollar bills and a ten. She left the money on the table.
Back in the Lamborghini, Tallhya said, “You could’ve taken a doggie bag.”
“Now you say that shit.” Rydah jokingly rolled her eyes. “I didn’t want to make you stay anywhere you didn’t want to be. I just thought you might have wanted something good to eat after chowing down on hospital food for the past three days. And that place makes the best damn home fries in the city.”
“My bad.”
Rydah hung a left on Biscayne. “Nope. It’s my bad for not asking if you were cool with being out so soon. We can hit ’em up some other time.”
For weeks afterward, all Tallhya did was eat, sleep, and cry. When she wasn’t sleeping, she was crying, and when she wasn’t crying, she was sleeping. Once or twice, she managed to do both at the same time, eventually crying herself to sleep.
When she was asleep, she often dreamed about life after she got the surgery done. The image was the same every time she had the dream: a skinny version of herself rocking a tiny bikini on a sandy beach. And then she would awaken and start crying all over again. It seemed as if everyone in the state of Florida was thin, taunting her for being out of shape. Deep down, Tallhya knew that she was being irrational, but it was how she felt.
In her eyes, the only good thing that had happened to her since being released from the hospital was Aunt Amanda. Like the mother Tallhya never had, Amanda nursed and catered to her every need every single day. Tallhya secretly wished that Amanda had been her real mother instead of Deidra. That it was she who had been adopted by her Uncle Maestro, instead of Rydah.
Day by day, with Amanda’s help, Tallhya recovered from her injuries. During this time, since Tallhya had seemed to sink deep into depression, Rydah and Tallhya barely spoke. Rydah hated it. She’d finally been reunited with one of her estranged sisters, and they weren’t doing anything together. All Tallhya wanted to do was lay in bed, tuning out the world.
Rydah could no longer take it. She burst into the guest room where Tallhya was staying. “Enough is enough!” Rydah shook her. When Tallhya opened her eyes, Rydah screamed, “Bish, get out the bed and get dressed. And when you’re done, put these on.” She handed her sister a pair of big-framed Chopard sunglasses. “We’re going out today, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”
Tallhya looked at Rydah like she’d lost her mind. “Why you gotta be so damn loud—waking me up and shit?” With an exaggerated yawn and stretch, she said, “I was sleeping good.”
“It’s freaking one o’clock in the freaking afternoon,” Rydah told her. “Time to get up.”
Just then, Amanda came into the room, carrying a tray. “Time for brunch.” Amanda had cooked French toast and bacon, and she’d put fresh strawberries and blueberries in a bowl on the side so that Tallhya would have the option to put the fruit on her French toast or eat it separately. Rydah swiped a piece of bacon as Amanda placed the tray on the night table beside the bed.
“Don’t mess with my food.”
“Oh,” said Rydah, “now all of a sudden you full of energy and stuff.”
Tallhya ignored her.
Rydah asked Amanda, “How does she just get to sleep the days away? Didn’t you give her the house rules, the ones you implemented on me?” The house rules had always been, If the banks are open, you should be out of bed. “It’s unfair.”
“You treat her better than me,” Rydah said in a little girl’s voice.
Amanda waved off Rydah’s complaints. “The girl is healing from a traumatic event. Wait until she gets her strength back.”
The way she’s being pampered, Tallhya may never get her strength back, Rydah thought.
Tallhya stuck her tongue out behind Amanda’s back, teasing.
“Rules are rules. In this house, nobody is allowed to sleep past nine a.m.,” Rydah said, pulling the covers away from Tallhya, almost forcing the linen to land on the floor. “Now get up!”
“Mother Amanda, she keeps bothering me,” Tallhya complained. “Tell her to let me rest. And she’s being mean to me, too.”
“You a snitch now?” Rydah rolled her eyes.
“Rydah, that’s no way to treat your sister.”
Rydah sighed. “Mommmm. . . .”
“Especially,” Amanda reminded her daughter, “the sister that you claimed to have been waiting your entire life to meet. Did you know that Rydah used to cry herself to sleep at night because she wanted a sister to play with?”
“And once she has one, she’s mean to me.”
“But she needs to get up,” Rydah protested. “She just can’t sleep her life away.”
Amanda agreed with Rydah. “Some fresh air would do you good, Tallhya. But you girls have to promise to be safe and not overdo it.”
Rydah quickly said, “We know. Now get up, my dear sister, so we can get some fresh air as our beautiful mother has requested.” Rydah smiled, side-eyeing her sister. “Honor thy mother and thy days will be longer. Those are the Bible’s words, not mines.”
Tallhya tried one last excuse. “I have nothing to wear. Remember, I didn’t bring any clothes because I thought I was going to be doing shopping for my flat stomach and small waist after the surgery.”
“Mm-hmm. I knew you were going to try to pull that. That’s exactly why I got you this.” She went into her backpack and pulled out a Pink sweat suit. “You got thirty minutes to shower and get dressed. Hurry up.”
Before leaving the room, Amanda suggested that Tallhya should put something in her stomach. “And drink some juice,” she said. “Hydrate, dear, hydrate!”
Forty-five minutes later, outside in the driveway, Rydah had another surprise for her sister.
Tallhya was tongue-tied. Parked in the driveway was a white four-door BMW 645. “Stop playing, Rydah. This is for me?”
“It was a salvage. I redid the entire thing myself.” Rydah handed her the keys. “For you, my sister.”
Rydah shouted. “Oh! My! God!”
“Now let’s go to the mall and get you a few outfits. My treat.”
After a couple of hours of shopping and a few stores later, Tallhya said, “I’m hungry.”
“Me too.”
The sisters decided to have lunch at a place called Gourmet Drê. It was a new chic restaurant that Rydah had been wanting to try ever since the doors opened to rave reviews six months ago. They were seated by their hostess near a 500-gallon aquarium that was home to a colony of tropical fish of every size and hue.
The two had been giggling and laughing since they sat down.
Rydah drank her lemonade from a crystal champagne glass. “Girl, you so crazy.”
“Naw,” said Tallhya, “that’s you.” At the table, they were discussing a multitude of topics like family, relationships, movies, and purchases they’d made earlier that day.
Rydah told Tallhya, “I think you should’ve gotten the silver Swarovski crystal shoes instead of the black ones.”
Having a bit of buyer’s remorse, Tallhya agreed.
“Don’t get it twisted. You can never go wrong with black, but those silver ones were everything. Like, because you are my long-lost sister,” she said, “I would’ve splurged for them both if you wanted.”
Tallhya took another bite of her entrée; it was the best grilled salmon she’d ever eaten. She said, “You know you are more flamboyant than me. You’re so much like Bunny it’s scary. Y’all two would’ve stayed fighting over each other’s clothes.”
“For real?” Rydah couldn’t help
but get excited when she talked about the siblings she’d never met. “I wish I could’ve known her.”
“I promise you would have loved her and hated her at the same time, because her paws would’ve stayed using her five-finger discount on your stuff,” Tallhya said then changed the subject to something less sad. “Do you think that my feet will drop a size after my surgery? I read that somewhere online.”
“Ummmm . . . I never heard that one before.”
“Ladies . . .” A guy walked up to their table.
The two sisters eyeballed him.
“Not to intrude or be rude, I’m sure that you hear it all the time, but it’s worth saying it again: you two are so beautiful. Are you twins?”
“Thank you for the compliment,” Tallhya said. “And no, we’re not twins.”
“But we’re sisters,” Rydah chimed in. It felt good to say she had a sister. Plenty of girlfriends had come and gone, claiming to be her sister until they got bitchy and petty, but this was different. No matter what happened, good or bad, nothing could change the fact that their blood bonded them together forever.
“Really?” said the gentleman. “Your father must have strong genes.”
“You mean our mother,” Tallhya said. “We look like our mother.”
“Well,”—he tipped his hat—“let her know that she did the world a real great service by giving birth to such beautiful beings.”
Rydah was about to tell the stranger to fuck off, but in a nice way, when the waiter approached with the one-hundred-dollar bill, placing it on the table.
In true gentlemanly fashion, the stranger picked it up. “I would love the honor of taking care of the tab for two beautiful ladies.” Before they could say no, he dug into the pocket of his linen trousers and came out with a black American Express card.
For the first time, Rydah checked him out. He was carrying three bags: two from Saks-Fifth Avenue and a Hublot watch boutique bag. His skin was smooth and brown like expensive chocolate. He was at least six feet tall with a short haircut, and he was very dapperly dressed in a linen button-down shirt, Louis loafers (no socks), and a diamond-studded Rolex watch.