by Nikki Turner
“That’s good to know. But my procedure’s still going to be done by Dr. Snatch, right?” Dr. McNeil seemed like a good guy, but Tallhya had paid the big bucks to specifically get her body snatched by Dr. Snatch. He was the one with the long waiting list, the huge following, and did all the work on the celebrities. She hadn’t come this far to be baited and switched for the sidekick.
“Yes, Doctor Snatch will be doing your work. But like I said, Doctor McNeil is just as good. Trust me. So this is how it’s going to work,” she said. “Doctor McNeil will be in in a second to speak with you. And in the morning when you check in, Dr. Snatch will go over the procedures again, do drawings, and show you where he will be cutting.”
“All right, I guess.” For the first time, Tallhya felt nervous.
Nurse Kendra sensed it. “Everything is going to work out fine. Trust me. You are going to be snatched to the gawds.”
Tallhya thought that it sounded kind of tacky coming out of the mouth of a preppie and proper Caucasian chick.
“Can’t wait. If my sister comes in, will you make sure they send her back? You’ll recognize her. She’s a skinny, already snatched version of me.”
“Sure thing.” Nurse Kendra shut the door behind her when she left.
Three minutes later, the door opened. When Tallhya looked up, she got the shock of her life, and so did Dr. McNeil.
“Fonz. . . .”
Both of their mouths dropped the second they locked eyes.
“Tallhya. . . .”
Not only did her name sound like a melody when it flowed off his tongue, but the smell of his cologne and his starched white coat damn near paralyzed her. She was so embarrassed. All she wanted to do was run away and disappear, but she wasn’t leaving that office going anywhere until she got her pre-op and everything finalized to be on that table in the morning.
“OMG! You are a doctor?” She stopped herself from putting her clothes back on and running out of the room. “How come you didn’t tell me you’re a plastic surgeon?”
“You never asked. And,” he said with an accusing stare, “you never told me that you were getting surgery.”
“I just met you. Why would I tell you something that personal?”
“Because I’m your friend, and I would have been concerned that my friend is going into the hospital, under anesthesia, to have a major surgery.”
That sounded good, but her getting plastic surgery was still none of his business. She kept her thoughts to herself.
Fonz said, “Would you be offended if I shared a personal observation?”
“It can’t get any more personal than this. I don’t have a shirt or bra on. And I’m under this gown.”
Blushing, Fonz said, “I don’t think that you need surgery. I think you are stunningly beautiful the way you are.”
“If you believe that, then you must be blind,” she said. “I’m like, way overweight.”
“And you carry it well. I think you are gorgeous to the naked eye. However, it doesn’t mean anything at all.”
“What do you mean?” she asked. “You see so many beautiful women. I bet you tell them all how beautiful they are.”
“Only if it’s true,” said Fonz. “I admit, for the past twelve years I’ve seen some beautiful women, and I sculpt women into nearly flawless creatures. But none of that means anything if the person isn’t beautiful inside.”
Tallhya wanted to call Fonz on his bullshit, but she also wanted to believe that he was really being sincere.
“Anybody’s outer appearance can be transformed into what the world thinks is beautiful,” said Fonz. “But what’s most important is a person’s heart.”
When she rolled her eyes, he said, “I’m telling the truth. A person’s manners, their vibes, their principles, humility, their will to love, understand, and appreciate other people, places, and things.... Those are the things that make a person gorgeous.”
The compliments rolled off of his tongue so effortlessly, and if he said it a few more times she would have believed it. Tallhya found herself not wanting to debate with him. Her mind was asking her why had she’d ducked so many of his calls and pretended to be so busy.
Because you were out planning bank robberies and torturing niggas, bitch, she tried to convince herself, but she reminded herself what the reality was. You are afraid of getting your heart broken again! You’ve got to let go of that Walter shit.
“When I met you, I was immediately gravitated to your magnetic beauty. Even though you acted tough and gave me the run around, I would’ve bet that under all that posturing there was somebody who just wanted to love someone and have someone to love her.”
“This is really deep, and I love the content of the conversation,” Tallhya said, fronting as if Fonz wasn’t saying everything she wanted to hear, “but this is like, really awkward. My friend-slash-phone-buddy turned out to be a surgeon in my doctor’s office.”
“You forgot to mention you dumped me after our wonderful evening at dinner.”
Tallhya skipped over that conversation. “Fonz, I’m in a gown having a conversation that’s making me melt. This just need to stop.” She honestly didn’t want to offend him. “Or continue to another time. Like, seriously.”
“My apologies. It just felt so natural.”
“Talking to women you barely know while they’re wearing a gown is what you call natural?”
Fonz chuckled. “I don’t want to ever make you feel uncomfortable. And I have a patient waiting for me. Why don’t you get dressed? Afterwards, you and I can go have coffee, chat a little bit, and by the time we return, Dr. Snatch should be back, and he can finish up.”
“Sounds good,” Tallhya admitted.
“I sense a but. . . .”
“No buts. I’m just still a little shocked to find out that you’re a doctor, that’s all.”
“What did you think I did for a living?”
“Honestly?”
“That’s the best way to answer a question.”
“I thought you were some type of scammer.” They both laughed. “I’m serious,” she said.
“Like a credit card scammer?” he asked
“I didn’t know.”
“What gave you that impression?”
“Ummm . . . .” She was getting tongue tied from all the butterflies floating around in her stomach. “It’s Miami,” she said, as if that would explain it.
“A credit card scammer?”
“I’m sorry. If it’s any consolation, I’m glad you are not.”
“Get dressed,” he said, smiling.
“I’m still having my surgery,” she said. “I won’t let you talk me out of that.”
“I know better than to even try to, but I’m going to make sure that you are safe doing it.” He walked out of the room and Rydah walked in.
“Is that who I think it is?”
“Yep!”
“Well, I guess he’s exactly what the doctor ordered,” Rydah said.
Chapter 37
Two Things
Jaffey arrived at The Lady Lagoon strip club every morning at the same time, rain or shine. Regardless of the duties Jaffey had to perform throughout the night and into the early morning as the owner of multiple clubs, often involving beautiful women in the wee hours of the morning, his routine never deviated. Today was no different. Jaffey pranced into The Lady Lagoon draped in a one-of-a-kind tailored gold silk suit, a coffee Versace silk shirt, and a pair of two-tone brown Mauri gator tie-ups, at 11 a.m. sharp.
The A-shift manager, Mike McKinney, and his crew had been in the club since eight o’clock working to get everything in order. Girls, food, liquor, cigars, condoms, cleaning supplies, bathroom amenities . . . the list of things that needed to be done to run a successful strip club was endless. Mike was a competent manager, capable of getting the job done, and he was also married to Jaffey’s sister.
Mike was restocking the bar when Jaffey walked in. He’d already diluted the top-shelf liquors by 20 percent with
spring water. The added water brought in an extra $125 dollars per bottle, minimum, depending on the brand.
When Mike looked up, Jaffey waved him over.
Mike made his way to the end of the center bar where Jaffey was standing. “What up, boss?”
Jaffey hated being called boss, and that was the exact reason why his brother-in-law enjoyed doing it so often. But Jaffey ignored the dig. He had more pressing matters to deal with.
“Have you heard from Prince? He was supposed to contact me a couple of days ago.”
Mike wiped his hands on a towel that was hanging from his belt. “Not a peep,” he said. Mike sensed that something had Jaffey uptight. “Is there something you need me to do? You want me to reach out?”
It just doesn’t make sense, thought Jaffey.
First, Prince had been secretly pulling these kinds of kidnapping and robbery jobs for Jaffey for quite some time, and he’d always brought him his share, if for no other reason than he knew that Jaffey kept the jobs rolling in for Prince. If Prince had gotten knocked, it would’ve been blasted all over the news. And if he wasn’t in somebody’s jail, then where was he? Jaffey consciously wanted to dismiss the obvious answer: Prince had run off with the money.
But Jaffey knew that not wanting something to be true doesn’t make it so. Fuck. He needed his cut of the armored truck money to pay Wolfe and get him off his back. It would have been massively fucked up on so many different levels, because the whole heist had been his idea. He’d been planning this thing for over a year now, and to not get any proceeds at all from it would be fucked up.
“Just let me know if you hear anything.”
Mike chose not to dig at his brother-in-law this time when he said, “Okay, Jaffey. Is there anything else that I can do?”
“Just keep doing what you’re doing.” Jaffey said, “You’re doing a great job.” He checked on a few small things before going to his office to hit he phone.
The door to Jaffey’s office was solid oak, and the deadbolt lock was engaged and disengaged by a keypad mounted on the wall to the left. His privacy was worth every penny of the 3 Gs he’d doled out for the system.
The code for the lock was his mother’s birthday: 06-02-34. He typed it into the keypad. She’d passed away eight years ago. When the deadbolt disengaged, Jaffey flipped on the light switch on the side of the wall. LED track lights lit up the space like an operating room. Jaffey liked it that way. Life was shady enough as it was.
The moment he took a seat behind his desk and powered on the computer, Jaffey heard a noise. It was unmistakable.
Click-clack!
The hard plastic barrel of a Glock pressed against his freshly shaved head.
Wolfe’s voice was menacing. “Who told you that Rydah had a sister?”
A shaky Jaffey said, “No one.”
Wolfe reared back and cold-cocked Jaffey upside the head.
“An innocent person would have asked what I was talking about. The reason you didn’t was because you already knew.”
“I–I have no idea what you’re talking about, Wolfe. I swear.”
“Too late,” said Wolfe. He smacked Jaffey with the gun again, this time harder. Blood poured from a gash on the top of Jaffey’s head onto his one-of-a-kind silk suit.
“Fuck!”
“You are right! Now, shut the fuck up!”
“But I’m telling the truth.”
Wolf said, “Your slimy ass wouldn’t know what the truth looked like if it was fucking you in the ass without a condom.”
Now Jaffey knew exactly where Prince was at. Wolfe had him. Obviously Prince had run his mouth, or Wolfe wouldn’t be there with a gun to his head. Prince was probably dead.
“What do you want me to do?” Jaffey knew better than to keep lying. It would only make matters worse. “I’ll do anything. Please, just don’t kill me.”
“Two things.”
Jaffey was shaking. The temperature in his office was set to 69 degrees, but Jaffey was sweating bullets and blood. “Anything,” he begged. “Anything.”
Wolfe said, “You’re going to sign over all three clubs to me. Then you’re going to get your ass out of Florida—today—and never come back. Either that or eat a fucking bullet.”
Florida was the only place that Jaffey had ever lived, and the only place he ever wanted to live. All he knew how to do was run nightclubs in South Florida. It was what he was good at. But it wasn’t worth dying for.
“No problem.” He was crying. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do. The papers for the clubs are in the safe at my house.”
Wolfe already knew where the papers were. He grabbed the laptop on the desk that Jaffey used to survey everything, and slipped Jaffey out the back door of the club in order not to draw attention.
Wolfe had driven a 1986 refurbished Impala to the club. He made Jaffey get in the driver’s seat. “You drive.”
It was a 20-minute car ride to Jaffey’s beach house. They pulled into the built-on garage, which was connected to the kitchen. Wolfe walked Jaffey into the beach house.
“Get the papers.” He shoved the gun into Jaffey’s back, coaxing him toward the safe behind the oil painting in the bedroom. Jaffey spun the combination lock: 26 left, 32 right, 13 left.
“Stop right there!” Wolfe shouted. “You think I’m stupid?” Jaffey acted as if he had no idea what Wolfe was talking about. “Back away from the safe.” Jaffey took two steps to the side. “You would have loved to put your hands on his gun, wouldn’t you?” Wolfe removed the baby 9 millimeter from the wall safe, along with the paperwork and some chump change, about 40 grand in cash.
Jaffey said, “I’m going to need a couple of days to leave the state.”
“Too bad, because you don’t have it. Now sign the papers.”
Jaffey did as he was told. He had to bide his time. He would leave, but it wouldn’t be forever. Wolfe didn’t own the state of Florida, and he didn’t own him.
“Now back date them to a year ago.” Wolfe stood over his shoulder.
Jaffey did exactly what he was told to do.
“And here, sign this too.” Wolfe had had his attorney draw up the papers to make sure that the deal was airtight and couldn’t be contested whatsoever by any of Jaffey’s family.
Jaffey did so.
After Jaffey was finished signing the paperwork to Wolfe’s liking, making Wolfe the sole owner of all three clubs, Wolfe shot him in the head.
Bang! Bang!
Lights out.
Chapter 38
Hoes Over Bros?
“Sister Ivy . . . Sister Ivy . . .” The faint voice seemed to get closer and closer. She was trying to hurry to her car.
Sister Jackie attempted to get her attention once more. “Sister Ivy . . . .”
Sister Ivy was trying to leave. The service had stretched out 40 minutes longer than usual. Ivy didn’t have the luxury or the time to listen to Sister Jackie spill the tea on their church “friends.” But she liked Sister Jackie, so she stopped.
“Yes?” Sister Ivy was in her late thirties but looked 25. She was drop-dead gorgeous, sophisticated, and had an air of sexiness about her. Dressed in all white, she turned around, flashing two full rows of pearly whites. “What’s going on, Sister Jackie?”
Clutching at her heart, Sister Jackie said, “Oh, Lord.” She always had to be dramatic. “Chile, you got me sweating like a Hebrew slave running down them there steps trying to catch up with you.” She was breathing heavily. “You know how this girdle be, and these hot flashes,” she joked. It was funny because it was true. “I just wanted to tell you how happy I am that you decided to join the Usher Board. We desperately needed some new, young blood.”
Sister Ivy chuckled a little and ignored the slight that Sister Jackie had thrown at the other members. “I’m happy to be on the team,” she said.
“Well, you need to know that the Ladies Auxiliary Board Number Six is going to be meeting on Wednesday at seven p.m. for a quick meeting before prayer service.�
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“Okay.” Sister Ivy’s smile exaggerated her naturally high cheekbones. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Sister Jackie noticed that she was headed to the car. “You not going to have dinner with us in the Fellowship Hall?”
“I have other plans.” She hoped that Sister Jackie would grab hold of the hint and not hold her up too much longer with the small talk.
“Awwww. Sorry to hear that. I was looking forward to chit-chatting with you over dinner. You know Sister Donna cooks a mean piece of chicken. And that ain’t the only bird she knows her way around, but you ain’t heard it from me. Anyway,” she added, “you know every first and third Sunday we serve dinner in the Fellowship Hall.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sister Ivy said. “We can catch up on Wednesday at the meeting.” She said good-bye and kept it pushing to her car.
Once she was in her car, she carefully perused her phone for missed calls and texts. Out of twenty-four missed calls, none of the numbers were from Dade County Jail. That was a good thing. They were mostly business calls. No strange numbers, and nothing at all from Prince. Why in the world hadn’t he called her?
“Help me, Jesus.” Ivy made it her business to make it to church every Sunday to formally ask God to protect not only herself, but Prince, from any harm.
She thought about what the pastor had said: “Seek, and ye shall find. Ask, and the door shall be opened. Ask, and it shall be given.’
Ivy asked God to protect Prince. So she didn’t worry. If she was going to worry, then there was no need to pray. And if she prayed, there was no need worry. He would be fine, she told herself. And right now, there was money to be made, ongoing bills to pay, and plenty of fabulous shit to buy.
Get your mind right, Ivy. Prince is good, she had to tell herself several times.
Once she made the thirty-minute drive home to her luxurious condo, she took a deep breath and ran into her house to change out of her church gear. When she came out, she reminded herself of what she always claimed her motto was: Hoes before bros.
Ivy looked in the rearview mirror to make sure her lipstick and her game face were painted on properly, and they were.