“I ran into the mu’fucka earlier,” I confessed.
“Where at?”
“In the Trap,” I said.
“What the fuck you doing down there?” Pimp barked as expected. I explained. “Why the fuck you down there buying weed, Chyne?”
I became defensive. “That’s beside the point.”
“No it ain’t. That’s just plain stupid.”
“But, let’s get back to the matter at hand,” Pussy said, shaking her head at us. He hesitated for minute, took a deep breath, and continued.
“My people laying low to catch him slipping and snatch him up for interrogation.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
My birthday arrived. However, I didn’t feel like celebrating. I did agree to go to Pappadeaux Seafood Kitchen, up in Alpharetta, with Pimp and Pussy. Since Tory hadn’t called me like she did every June 1st, I called her to see if she wanted to join us.
“What’s up, Tory?”
“A little busy, but happy birthday, girl,” she said. “I ain’t forgot.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“I’m just catching up with a few things late-”
“Just called to see if you wanted to go out to dinner with me, my stepfather, and his woman.”
“A chance to finally meet the infamous Pimp, after all these years? I wish I could. I’m sorry, boo, but I got to take a rain check. I’m going to be busy all this evening. I’ve been working on a deal to head up a few campaigns. But, we’ll get together soon. My treat.”
“Of course,” I said. “Well, let me call you back then. I’ma see what’s up with Abe.”
“You still be messin’ round with that clown,” Tory replied.
“Don’t worry about all that. I’ll talk to you later.” I hung up from her and dialed his number. He agreed to join us. I told him we would pick him up since he lived on the way.
Once we arrived, Pappadeaux was crowded and none of us seemed in the mood to wait. So, I suggested we try Killer Creek Chop House, a more laid back spot and not too far away on Mansell Road. Sure enough we were seated shortly after our arrival. We were placed at a nice little cozy table in the corner and given menus. As we sat there, discussing the selections, I looked toward the front door and saw a group of people preparing to exit. As they said their goodbyes, my eyes keyed in on one person.
Emerson Jones.
He stood out among the pack. Tall, confident, and still as handsome as hell. I stared at him until Tory entered into view. She walked up, grabbed his hand, and whispered in his ear.
“What the fuck they doing together?” I said, out loud to my surprise.
“Who?” Pimp asked while peering in the same direction.
“Everyone turned and looked.
“Who? DeKalb County DA Emerson Jones?” Abe said. “You know him?”
Pimp, Pussy, and I stared at each other, our eyes big as saucers. The two of them left it up to me to answer his question.
“Yes.” I shifted my attention back to the entrance to exit. “I used to know him,” I said as I watched the love of my life and my best friend walk out the restaurant hand in hand, as if they were a couple.
Chapter Thirty-Five
I woke up the next morning, feeling groggy. Punch drunk. I managed to turn on the radio without too much effort. Backstabbers by the O’Jay’s played.
It felt so good to be on the other side of the birthday, but I wondered how many more days, months, years would I walk the earth. My mind told me I shouldn’t be thinking like that, I should simply enjoy the given moments. But those moments, as of late, were getting pretty hard to take.
I inhaled and exhaled, and told myself I would stop worrying. I didn’t have a deep, personal intimate relationship with a particular deity but, without realizing what I said, I easily spoke the words: I put it in God’s hands and allow His will to be done.
After getting fresh and clean, I slipped into some short-shorts and a wife beater with a sports bra underneath. Figuring Pimp and Pussy would wake soon, I decided to make some breakfast.
I grew anxious, despite my small prayer. Death threats. Sneaky best friends. Geesh.
Pussy and Pimp still hadn’t emerged, even though the delightful aroma of coffee and bacon filled the house, enough so to wake the dead. And after cooking, I really couldn’t eat. So to keep busy I went into my office and sat down to pay some bills.
Pimp and Pussy finally woke up. They were sitting at the table when I came out of my home office. I joined them. Even though their faces were clean, they still wore pajamas. Pimp finished and disappeared back into his room, but soon returned with something in his hands.
“I didn’t get a chance to give you your birthday present.”
“What you get me?” I asked like a kid.
“I had to ask myself, what do you give a girl who has everything?”
“Stop playing!” I said, his words putting a smile on my face. I stretched out my hands and wiggled my fingers. “Gimme!”
“Okay. Okay. Here,” he said as he presented a small box. I hoped for something really fly that he picked up while shopping duty free as he traveled the world. I tore the wrapping off and opened it only to find a rolled up piece of printer paper. Both he and Pussy laughed at the awkward appearance on my face. “What’s the matter?” Pimp asked, trying not to laugh.
“I don’t see anything funny,” I said.
“Riddles, I see why you’ve always act like you do,” Pussy said. “You’s a spoiled little brat.”
“Shut up,” I said as I pouted and opened the paper to get the joke. Surprisingly, it turned out to be a confirmation for a one adult, one child one-way plane ticket to Amsterdam. “What! Oh my! Thank you!” I hopped up and ran around the table to wrap my arms around his neck.
“I figured you needed some peace. If you know what I mean?” He laughed. “For real, I think you need to get away from here for a while.”
“I love it!” I said. I stared down at the tickets. “But why Amsterdam?”
“I know what you need,” Pimp said. “Let me handle this, okay?” He kissed me on top of my head. “You and the baby can go away and relax. I’m sending mama, too, so you’ll have a babysitter when you want to go out and have fun.”
“Where we gone stay?” I asked, checking the box again for hotel reservations.
“I called up a favor from my man. He got a flat over there. He said y’all can stay there as long as needed. Only thing is he’ll be in and out from time to time, but it’s enough room for everyone. I’ve stayed there before. Diablo’s cool. You’ll love it.”
“Diablo?”
“He own that spot Rollin Dee’s,” Pimp said. “That’s my nigga-”
“Small world,” was all I could say, plus the big ole’ Kool-aide grin spoke for itself.
“Well that seemed to make you even happier,” Pimp said. “What’s up with that?”
I told him how I came to meet Diablo and about his offer. I guess it made sense for me to make the trip. I got up to get my phone to text and tell him I would see him on July 7th. I even sent him a post script telling him Pimp’s relationship to me. His reply, “Small world.”
Pimp made me forget all about my problems for the time being. After they went back to the guest room, I went into my office. I needed to do something to keep my mind occupied. I saw the The Atlanta Voice so I decided to read it. I glanced at the headlines then skimmed a couple of articles as I flipped through the papers. Something about the black press caused me to feel guilty if I wasn’t supporting it. I even had the Call and Post from my hometown mailed to me.
As I made my way through the pages, I saw something that stopped me cold. I reread the headline and felt my heart sink, and my mouth become dry.
Senatorial Candidate Emerson Jones To Wed Socialite Tory Woods.
My mouth dropped. I stared at the picture of my child’s father and grandparents as well my so-called, self-proclaimed best friend who stood next to a distinguished, older looking gentleman. His
arm draped her shoulder and they all donned wide smiles.
Everyone looked so happy.
I studied the picture. There stood Tory in the Salvatore Ferragamo heels and clutch I’d given to her for Christmas with a beautiful, brilliant rock on her finger. I scanned the caption under the photo. It identified the man accompanying Tory as retired Appellate Court Judge Wynton Woods and Tory’s grandfather.
I glared back at the photo and closely at the man. It seemed that I recognized him, but couldn’t place from where. He seemed so familiar. I wracked my brain for a while then, all of a sudden, it dawned on me as I stared at the image. My mind traveled back to Emerson’s parent’s house, to the gentleman in Mr. Jones’ study the night Emerson proposed to me.
No that couldn’t be, I thought. Tory’s grandfather?
I sat there shaking my head. The whole night played like a movie in my mind. I pulled up my manuscript on the computer and reread that part, how our eyes locked for a minute.
Then I scrolled up, I wanted to find the part about how Tory had first introduced me to Emerson. She told me all about him but when he came over, she only introduced herself.
I was an afterthought.
“Here it is,” I said. I found it and read it out loud:
She waved him over to us, introduced herself and extended her hand. He shook it.
My eyes drift. Yep. That’s what happened. He took notice of me. I reread that sentence about five times before I moved on and then I read:
He stopped mid-sentence, looked me dead in the face, and stared into my eyes. My heart beat increased. I smiled.
“Oh, by the way, this is my best friend . . .” Tory said, noticing him trying to dig into me with his eyes.
Tory wanted Emerson from the start. She knew everything about him. But once he saw me, he didn’t even have two more words for her. I looked back at the picture in the newspaper and ran my finger over Grandpa’s face. So is that how they knew about me being a stripper.
From there, thought after thought flooded, trying to put this all together.
Tory.
“Hey, Baby Girl,” Pimp came into the room interrupting my thoughts. “Pussy just came back with the info on the plate.”
“Huh?” I said.
“Remember I told you we spotted the boy with the dreads at The Blue Flame?”
I nodded, not lifting my head up from the article.
“Yeah, he was driving that Turismo, so I had Pussy run the plates.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Chyne. You listening to me?”
“Oh,” I said and looked at him. “Yeah. I’m listening.”
“What I say?” he said and cocked his head.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
“We ran the plates on dude, the one that told Buttercup about the hit.”
“Oh yeah,” I said. “I remember.”
“So the plates came back to a Winston Woods IV. You know him?”
“That dirty bitch!” I yelled out. My outburst seem to startle Pimp. “That dirty bitch! I can’t believe it.” I jumped up from my seat, pushing the desk chair back so hard it hit the wall. “Something always told me she’s a snake. Just never thought she would ever take a bite into me. Ole rotten ass bitch!”
“What? Who you talking about?” Pussy came into a room. “What is going on in here?”
“My so-called best friend, that’s who,” I said, my voice still louder than necessary. “Take a look at this,” I said and handed Pimp the newspaper. I pointed to the picture. He read it then passed the paper to Pussy.
“So, I take it you do know this Winston Woods, number four?” Pimp asked. “What kind-”
“Her brother,” I said and nodded with my head to the paper.
“Ain’t that the couple we saw last night leaving the restaurant?” Pussy asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “That’s Tory and Emerson, Markie’s father.”
“So what you saying?” Pimp asked.
“I’m saying I believe she’s behind it. I know sheis. She’s the one who tried to kill me. It’s all starting to make sense now.”
“Why would she want you dead?” Pussy asked. “I mean . . . Okay. She’s marrying your child’s father but is it necessary to kill you?” She tossed the paper on the table. “I thought you were certain about Emerson?”
“Emerson or his family seemed like the most likely suspects,” I said and plopped back down in my seat. This had knocked the wind out of me. “But if they wanted me dead, they could’ve done it years ago. I never wanted to believe... I think still he loves me.”
I told them about the calls, and his request.
“You sure about this?” Pimp asked. “It could be both of them.”
I nodded my head and swiped the tears from my eyes. “Almost certain. It’s really starting to make perfect sense now. I mean, she completely kept this from me. She admitted to giving him my number. She must’ve knew he wanted to talk to me about it.” I picked up the paper; I could hardly look at it. I dropped it back down on the desk.
“She never said one word to me about any of this,” I continued. “Her dating Emerson, the engagement. Nothing. And, I’m certain she hasn’t told that man he isn’t her real grandfather.”
“Huh,” Pussy and Pimp blurted. They still look confused.
“Dr. Winston Woods III adopted her,” I said. “And, besides her deceased grandmother and mother, I’m the only who knows.”
“I still don’t see a reason to kill you,” Pussy said.
“If that man knew that’s not his son’s real daughter, he wouldn’t be bothered with her,” I explained. “She must’ve banked on me being dead before the announcement became public.”
“But the grandfather knows,” Pussy said. “I’m sure he knows what happened to his son’s family after he died.”
I hunched my shoulders. “Maybe not,” I said then told them Tory’s story. “She never even told me she connected with her grandfather.”
“If she didn’t want anyone to know, how do you know?” Pussy questioned.
“She used to confide in me, before I met Emerson.” I looked at them with realization in my eyes. “Thinking back, she didn’t like that Emerson found me attractive over her.”
“So?” Pimp seemed to know I’d connected some dots.
“Her mama is dead.” I paused because I couldn’t believe the thoughts that had formulated in my head. “Couldn’t be,” I said.
“What?” Pimp asked.
“She probably had her mama killed too, now I’m thinking ‘bout it. She harbored ill feelings toward her. She would do anything to be circling around the rich and powerful.”
“How her mother die?” Pussy asked.
“Found in a dumpster. That’s all I know.”
“Here in Atlanta?”
“No. Back in Chicago,” I answered.
“Police records are public. So are the coroner’s and toxicology reports,” Pussy explained. “If Tory mother’s death somehow links to the murder here . . .”
I got excited. “Can you take care of it,” I asked.
“I know somebody up there who could get the information and fax it to you by the end of the day. All you’ll need is her full name,” Pussy said.
“If Tory’s involved in both murders,” said Pimp. “I’m sure there’ll be some kind of connection.”
“Her name is Pamela Woods,” I said as I scribbled it down on a piece of paper. “She died about seven months ago. Not sure of the exact date.”
“Sooo, she was eliminating folks in short order, huh?” Pimp said. “First her mother, then not even six months later, she after you?”
“If it was her,” Pussy said. “Right now we don’t have any evidence.”
“We got evidence,” Pimp said. “Or at least we will very soon.”
“What?” I said.
“The fool driving the Beamer.”
“You got him?” I asked.
“Yeah, you were so busy staring at that newsp
aper when I came in, that you couldn’t hear a word I said. I was about to tell you that we picked him up. That’s how I got the license plate.”
“I thought you meant you just jotted it down on a piece of paper. Not that you took it and him. I started to get a headache.”
“Now you know I don’t roll like that. Jotting shit down and stuff. Don’t you know me better than that, Sunshine?”
“Well, if you can get anything out of him when you talk-” Pussy couldn’t finish her sentence.
“He’ll talk?” Pimp said. “Oh. We’ll know how what went down.”
“I can’t get a warrant based on coerced information.”
“Who said we turning this over to Johnny Law?” Pimp retorted. He looked Pussy in the face.
“This gots to be dealt wit’ the best way I know how – on a street level.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Later on that day, my fax machine started beeping. When I looked at the sheets of paper it had spewed out, I realized it provided exactly what I needed to prove my theory. The police report on Mrs. Pamela Woods’ death made it clear.
Pamela Woods had been found by the police in a dumpster. She’d suffered from a broken neck, and according to the report, a two-inch, rusty carpenter nail had been inserted in each of her armpits.
“Useless as two rusty nails,” I said, recalling Tory’s description of her mother. “I guess she thought the same of me.”
For me, that confirmed Emerson had no involvement with the murder. He would have no reason to kill her mother. All this time, I thought Tory to be a friend. But, she never gave a rat’s ass about anyone other than herself. She had become too caught up in wanting to be among the old guard. The sad part about it, an innocent person had to die as a result of her selfishness.
I didn’t know whether I should tell Angie the truth or not. I wondered how she would look at, or feel about me when she learned her daughter died because of something related to me.
At that point, I really understood how our actions ultimately and unknowingly affected others. I drew a direct correlation between my decisions and Malibu’s death, decisions I made long before I met her. There was nothing I could say or do to bring the girl back and I felt like it robbed her mother of closure if she didn’t know what happened. I resolved to tell her.
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