“Well did they look like the same dreads?” I asked.
She tilted her head. “C’mon now, Riddles. How am I supposed to know if they looked like the same dreadlocks or not.”
I guess she’s right.
“Did you get where he from?” I changed my approach.
“I don’t know,” Buttercup said. “Didn’t think to ask. Didn’t sound like he was from down here, though. Maybe Midwest somewhere?”
“You can’t just pull my coattail then leave it hanging,” I said. “Mustache? Beard? Tats? Come on, Buttercup. Give me something. This dude talking about it was meant for me.”
Now I really got to know who did it, I thought. Meant for me?
“He did have a light mustache. No beard. Lots of tattoos. Can’t remember much else. After he said what he said, he started manhandling me. So, I just wanted to get up out of there, you know?” She swallowed and licked her lips. “Then, he didn’t even wanna pay me. We argued to the point where I said fuck that money. I grabbed my shit, and bounced.”
“I’m glad you’re safe, Buttercup,” I said. “That’s most important. But, I need to find out who this character is. I need to know who’d want me dead.”
I took a long pause. I wanted, needed, to pace a floor.
Extremely frustrated, I balled my fist and beat the steering wheel. “Me?” I said. “This is unbelievable. “Hold up, Buttercup.” I looked at her.” Let me get myself together.”
Absolutely taken by surprise, I allowed my head to fall onto the back of my car seat. I turned and looked out the window and stared at a group of white men getting out of a SUV and enter the club. I knew I couldn’t go back in and work after receiving such a revelation. I felt punch drunk. I closed my eyes.
“Riddles,” Buttercup said getting my attention. “Despite our disagreement, I had to tell you. Wouldn’t have been able to live with myself had something happened to you and I hadn’t. But,” she paused, “I don’t want anyone to know I told you this. What if he come after me? Hell, he might come after me anyway. Ain’t no telling what’s on that maniac’s mind.”
“I feel you, Buttercup. I got you.”
“What you gone do?” she asked.
“Don’t know what I’m gonna do yet.” I looked over at her and tried to smile. “I ‘preciate the love, though. You didn’t have to say anything, especially with the way I came at you.” I touched her hand. “I apologize, okay? Apparently this is why my instincts drug me down this path. We talkin’ bout my life here.” I had to think for a minute. “Look, come stay the night with me. I’ll give you a couple hundred. We need to finish this conversation. Not here though. I’ll get a room. We can just chill for the rest of the night.”
“A couple hundred? I’ll make that in an hour room. And, what about my tip out?” she asked. “I just got here.”
She stretched it, but I didn’t mind, seeing how I really needed to pick her brain.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Just get yo’ stuff and meet me back at my car.”
We went back into Joker’s. I gave her the money to cover her fees, paid mine, got my bag and left. I decided to get a suite at the nearby Westin. I wanted and needed to be comfortable to calm down as well as figure out who wanted me dead.
Chapter Twenty-Five
We drove in silence. Not wanting to leave her alone, I told her to come in with me while I checked in. I handed the clerk my credit card, signed the paperwork, and then we walked toward the elevator. I’d got a suite with two beds. I picked the one by the window and flopped on it. I then rifled through my purse to find my cell phone.
“Did you even get his name, Buttercup?” I set the record function on my phone then placed it beside me.
“He said something like D Money. Like I said, young dude. I figured it would be a quick five hun. Turned out to be more of a headache than it was worth,” she said.
I pulled out some blunts and dropped my purse on the floor. “Buttercup. You been doing this long enough. How you turn a trick and don’t get his name or nothing? When was this again?”
“Hey, I get the money and go. Don’t have time for all that chit-chatting.” She pulled a lighter out of pocket and took a blunt from me. “It happened a couple nights ago,” she said taking a drag. “I would’ve called you but I don’t have your number.” She exhaled and passed it to me.
“Well, again, thanks for telling me.” I held up the weed, saluting her before taking a hit.
“He scared the shit out of me. I haven’t told anyone, not even my dude.”
“Don’t worry, Buttercup. I’m sure that if they want me bad enough, they’ll come back for me.” I inhaled again before passing it back to her. I really needed to calm my nerves and get her talking. “Shit. I got to plan my next move,” I said. “But it’s hard trying to steer clear of somebody you don’t even know.” She passed me the blunt. “I don’t know if I should just pack up and get the fuck outta here, or try to figure out who wants to off me.”
I passed it back to her and then just lit up one of my own. My lips dried as I heard my heartbeat in my ears, and felt my stomach doing flips. I needed to relax and sharing with Buttercup just wasn’t going to cut it. I started to drill her.
“What kind of car he drive?” I asked.
“A Beamer. Real nice. Don’t know the model, though.”
“Tinted windows?” Whatever flipped around in my stomach took a leap and got caught in my throat when she said those words. My mind reverted back to the BMW with road rage, as well as the incident with the valet. He’s going to tell me something.
“So dark you could barely see out ‘em.”
That was it. That was that same car.
“Did you get the plate?” I asked.
“Nope.” Her eyes squinted, looking at me through a haze of smoke. “Sorry.”
“What else can you tell me? Buttercup, I need to indentify this fool.”
“Ain’t much else.” She sat up on her bed and then got up to put blunt the out in the bathroom sink. “But, like I said. I tried to get the fuck up out of there. At first, it was cool. He popped a couple pills and talked about how much money he got.”
When she returned, in a pleading manner, I handed her my blunt to put it out as well. She did and, without missing a beat, kept talking. “He asked me if I used to work at the Blue Flame. Told him yeah. You, know ya ya ya. Then, he asked about you. After that, it got bad. When I finally got out of there, I was just trying to get to the cab stand down the street.”
“Maybe I can find out what name he registered the room in. That would help.”
She shook her head again, as she climbed back in her bed. “I got the room.”
“You pay for your own rooms?”
“He paid for it. I just went in to get it.”
We both sighed and fell back onto our respective beds, an uneasy silence hanging over the room. All kinds of thoughts went through my mind as I flipped through my mental Rolodex of wrongdoings.
“So what about these tattoos?” I asked “Can you give me some idea of what to look for?”
“Well, he had on a wife beater and wouldn’t take it off so I only saw the ones on his arms. It looked more like a glob of ink to me. There was stuff like gang symbols, naked women, and guns. So letters I couldn’t make out across the back. All kinds of shit.”
“What did you say he looked like again?”
“Cute face. Light-skin. Wore Gucci head to toe.”
“Any distinctive jewelry?” I questioned.
“His neck and wrist was iced out.”
“I’m stumped,” I said. “I don’t know who this guy could be.” I remembered the young guy I danced for in Jokers. He wore dreads. He told me he didn’t know Malibu, I wondered if-
“I know it’s gotta be scary. Not knowing if someone is after you.”
“Hell yeah.” I let out a nervous laugh. “You remember anything else?” I said.
Like a PowerPoint slide, images of the time I’d spent with dreadloc
ked boy who got table dances from me flashed through my mind. I didn’t remember much, but one thing I recalled I still had his number in my bag.
Who is he? Who sent him? I didn’t know him at all. Or do he just know something? All these questions ran across my mind.
“I’ll try to remember as much as I can, Riddles,” Buttercup interrupted my thoughts. “Things just seem like a blur, though.”
I took in a couple deep breaths through my nose, and blew them out my mouth. “Buttercup, one more question.”
“Yeah, right,” she said. “I’m sure you still got a million. What is it?”
“Why didn’t you go to the police?”
“And tell them what?” she asked. “I turned a trick with a guy and-”
“You didn’t have to tell them he was a trick. But, at least they could possibly have him in custody. Who knows? You could’ve told the front desk. He fuckin’ tells you something about Malibu’s murder, then rapes you and you let him get away?”
“Whoa, slow down.” She propped herself up on her elbows. “I’m just trying to live to see another day. I’m thankful I got out of there alive. Remember, I didn’t have to tell you shit.”
She was right and I told her so.
“I’m sorry. I’m just really fucked up behind this. Maybe, I just need to try and relax. Rethink all this in the morning.” I turned off the recording, reached over to the nightstand, and grabbed the room service menu. “You hungry? Want something to eat?”
“Let me see that menu,” she said.
Chapter Twenty-Six
After the smell of weed died down, Buttercup and I ordered a couple of burgers and four bottles of beer. We sat up all night, talking about the club, being a stripper, and more about this mysterious young boy with dreads. I asked her the same questions over and over again, I’m sure, but I needed to know, to get all the details straight in my mind.
And during the course of the night, I got to know her a little better. We talked about her hopes and goals – girlfriend kind of conversations. Oddly enough, despite all the times I saw her naked, I didn’t know her on a personal level.
I learned she dropped out of high school. At eighteen, she took her college savings and moved to California to become a model. With no guidance and not enough money to live in Los Angeles, it became difficult for her to survive out there. Her parents, devastated by her choices in life, refused to support her financially so she started stripping and eventually migrated to Atlanta. I could see the pain of her life in her eyes. I heard it in the tenor of her voice.
“Riddles, I need a favor,” Buttercup spoke after a long silence. “I gots to get myself together. Can you help me?”
I didn’t say anything for a long minute. I never like helping strippers because they usually didn’t appreciate it, especially the ones as unstable as Buttercup. I’d seen some flighty ones over the years, and she seemed to fit that bill.
“How?” I asked reluctantly.
“I need a place to stay,” she said.
I dropped my head and shook it.
“Hear me out,” she said. “I’m trying to get away from my dude. Just sick and tired of him. I’m ready to go cause he don’t want to get off his ass and do shit.”
“I don’t know, Buttercup,” I said. “Let me think about it. I got some serious shit on my mind right now to even consider anything else. Let’s just get some rest and figure something out in the morning. I need to think some things through.”
“Whatever you can do, I’ll appreciate it. I just don’t know what to do. I can’t get rid of ‘em.”
“I’m real sorry to hear that, Buttercup,” I said. But, even after all I’d heard tonight about her life, I felt reluctant.
Was she trying to set me up? Maybe she working for them? The people trying to kill me. Get close, see where I live?
How am I supposed to know? I felt paranoid, bizarre and the weed didn’t make it any better. I took a deep breath.
“Let’s do this,” I finally said. “I need to deal with one problem at a time. But, if you don’t want to go back to him, I’ll help as best I can.”
“Thanks Riddles. Whatever you can do,” she said as she lay back on her bed. She had taken off her clothes. I admired the curves her on body. Her silky skin shined.
I lay back too. My mind became fixed on this young boy with dreads. I figured either he did it or knew who did it. Then I asked myself, why would he want to kill me?
Why would anyone want me dead?
I tried to recall all the clues in Malibu’s death and how they could relate to me. I drew a blank. Then I tried to think of anyone with a motive. A few people from my past crossed my mind. I’d had my share of run-ins. The memory of how I landed in Atlanta invaded my thoughts. I cringed as my brain took a trip back and real life events played out like scenes in a movie.
Seemed like something greater than myself forced me to watch.
I wonder if a stripper who vowed to “fuck me up on sight,” finally tracked me down. When I first started dancing, we traveled to Atlanta together. Long story short, she left me and I jumped on her when I returned to Cleveland. As a result, she had a miscarriage. I heard she planned to press charges. I don’t know because I moved to Georgia.
I shook my head. Too much time had passed. Then, I thought about my old trick from the Gold Club who paid for me to attend Emory. He gave me anything and everything. I really disappointed him because I always promised to have sex “one day” while accepting countless dollars and overly expensive gifts. He bought my first luxury car, my Dunwoody condo, and a rare seal skin coat in hopes of sleeping with me. I told him I was waiting to get married, knowing he had a wife. Well, just as he signed the divorce papers, I ended up pregnant by Emerson. When he saw my stomach, he turned red as an apple and immediately cut me off.
Fortunately, the things he’d bought were paid for and put in my name.
But, still, I don’t know if he wanted me dead. He just stopped paying my tuition.
Emerson’s name reoccurred the most, especially since he’d just called wanting to see me and my child out of the blue. It felt like my stomach exited my body at the thought because, for real, if he wanted me dead, he could have it done.
I wondered why he would call and ask to see us. Did he want my baby dead, too? She didn’t know him. I had never bothered him, always stayed completely out of his way. Respected our agreement Why would he? I asked myself, as I stayed up all night pondering those questions.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
As the sun started to peer through the curtains, I looked around. I saw Buttercup still sound asleep. I got up and went into the bathroom then remembered I needed to get some hygiene items from the front desk. I hit “0” for the operator and ordered what I needed. I opened the door to the room to retrieve the paper, tossing the U.S. Today on the desk, I stretch across the bed and scanned the Atlanta Journal Constitution. I read the headline above the fold first then flipped through the different sections. Nothing caught my attention. I tossed it to the side as well.
Again, I thought about the call I received from Emerson. I reached over to turn on the radio in an attempt to catch some of Frank and Wanda Morning Show, but decided against it as I didn’t want to wake up Buttercup. She appeared as if she had not slept in weeks.
I heard knocking so I grabbed some singles out of my wallet. The concierge and I made our exchange and I gently closed the door.
“Good Morning,” Buttercup said and wiped the sleep from her eyes.
“I tried not to wake you,” I said and smiled. “Here, take these.” I handed her the toiletries. “We can get some breakfast and see how I can help you.”
“Thank you.” She seemed relieved.
I allowed Buttercup to have the bathroom first. While she was gone, I placed an order for breakfast with room service, then made plans to fly to Cleveland. I needed to regroup.
By the time Buttercup came out of the bathroom, I had booked a flight for later that afternoon. Once room
service arrived, I showered, before eating, and although the food cooled by then, I gobbled it down.
“So, what exactly do you need?” I asked reaching for the orange juice. She had already finished eating.
“I need to get an apartment, but I ain’t got no credit, no money, nothing. I’m tired of this nigga, Riddles. And, I don’t know what to do. I feel like I’m stuck. I need to get away from him but have nowhere to go.”
“What you want? To stay with me?”
“Just until I get on my feet. He stole damn near ten grand from me to flip some dope. I was saving to get an apartment. Now, I got to start all over. And, Jokers been
feast or famine.”
“I don’t know about you staying with me. My daughter will be home soon, and I don’t really like to bring too many different people around her. But, I do have this condo,” I said taking a bite of bacon. “I could rent it to you. It’s been empty for a little while. You can stay there ‘til you get on yo feet, just pay the utilities you use. But-” I said then took a sip of my juice and swallowed. “Your man can’t stay there. That deal is for you and you alone. If he do, full fare.”
“Riddles, didn’t I tell you I’m so sick of him.”
“I’m just saying.”
“I promise you. I’m done.”
“Good to know. I’ll take you there once we check out.”
I finished eating, and since the apartment wasn’t far from the hotel, I took Buttercup to the building. My last tenant died but her possessions remained. I never took the time to clean it out. She was a jazzy old lady with nice things. I figured it’d be good for Buttercup. I gave her my cell number in case she had any problems then headed home to prepare for my flight, anxious to receive the emotional support that only a maternal figure could provide.
I changed clothes, printed out my ticket, and despite Atlanta’s traffic, I arrived at Hartsfield-Jackson an hour and half before my departure. I pulled in the long-term parking lot and walked to the terminal. Since I had an E-ticket, I only needed to top at the curbside check-in counter. An older black gentleman tagged my luggage. I took the train and headed off to my gate, wanting to get there in time to relax before takeoff.
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