Royce feared picking the envelope up, thinking it might’ve been some type of ransom note, but when he finally did get the nerve to see what was inside, he realized that it was something worse than a ransom note. For a moment, he wished it would have been a ransom note instead of what his eyes were seeing. He walked over to the bed, took a seat, and placed his gun on the bed next to him. The picture in front of the letter was of him, Krystol, and baby Raven.
Dear Ro,
I sat up in bed writing this letter all night as I watched you lie asleep right next to me, and I caught myself on a couple of occasions pressing your gun up against your head, willing and ready to blow ya fuckin’ brains all over the pillow. This is how mad and hurt I am right now, but even still, I would never be able to bring myself to hurt you. I guess you’re probably wondering why I would feel this way. Better yet, you probably already know. I followed you last night when you left out, and I watched you meet up with a woman. A white woman at that. I followed you to the motel where I watched you go into room 308 with that bitch. I sat there feeling stupid, before I just decided to leave. The thing is, Royce, I already had a feeling that you was cheating on me. I just didn’t want to believe it. You kept telling me to trust you and I did, not because you are a great liar, but because I wanted to believe you. This hurt so bad, because I loved you so much. You was my first, and the only man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I guess the love that you had for me didn’t equal out to be the same. Damn, Ro, you truly broke my heart. It saddens me to even write this letter. I never cried this much in my life. I hope that she makes you happy and that she could be to you everything that I couldn’t be. If she could take you away from me, then she deserves to have you. Please just let me go and find someone who can love me and only me. I will contact you when I get on my feet and get established, so that you can remain in Raven’s life if you choose to do so. Take good care of yourself, Royce.
Love always,
Krystol
Royce’s eyes were glued to the paper, and for the next ten minutes, he just kept reading the letter over and over again. He couldn’t believe Krystol had gone this far, and had he known it was going to come to this, he would have taken his chances with just telling her the truth about what he was doing. He was sick, and the more he read the letter, the sicker he became. Krystol meant everything to him, and to know that she was out there somewhere with his daughter made him feel weak. He couldn’t protect them or watch over them without knowing where they were, and that ate at him. Could his chase for money really have cost him the love of his life?
He flopped back on the bed in frustration, and then he quickly hopped up, figuring that she couldn’t have gotten that far. He was going to check every train station, bus station, and even check the airport. He walked over to the closet to check the petty cash box and see what kind of money she had to work with. It was empty, which meant she had anywhere from $1,500 to $2,500 to work with. Thinking about it, Royce knew that it was enough cash for her to get where she wanted to go. And if she needed more, it wouldn’t be anything for her to hit the bank and have access to an additional six grand.
He raced down the stairs and shot to the garage to see if she had taken her car, but it was still in there. He then raced to his own vehicle, jumped in, and pulled off to a destination he hadn’t figured out yet. All he knew was that he didn’t want to lose Krystol like this. He wanted the chance to tell her the truth. Being unfaithful was the last thing he wanted her to think about, nor did he want that to be the reason why they broke up. Especially since he had never cheated on her.
“Come on, B, where you at?” he mumbled to himself, looking up and down every street he went through.
The hotel manager stared at Sanaa like she was crazy, not knowing how serious she was about what she was offering. The Loews Hotel was one of the largest hotels by the airport, and probably one of the most expensive.
“You know what you’re asking me to do is illegal. If I don’t report that kind of money to the IRS, I could get in trouble,” the manager told Sanaa, reaching into his lower desk drawer and pulling out a bottle of Scotch.
“Look, Mr. Bosworth, I’m not here to talk to you about what’s legal and what’s not. You got the power to say yes or no. I personally just want to throw a party at ya hotel, and I’m sure you can find a way around the IRS if you wanted,” Sanaa shot back in her most professional tone.
She was right. Bosworth had ways of making things happen with the books, especially when it came down to putting a few extra dollars in his pocket. This wasn’t the first time he’d entertained a hotel party.
“I’m willing to give you ten grand in cash if you can make it happen for me,” Sanaa threw out there, getting every bit of his attention.
He sat there for a second, throwing back the shot of Scotch he had poured in his cup. Ten grand sounded like a beautiful number to him, and it wasn’t long before he rolled his chair over to the file cabinets. He rolled back over to the table with a large black book, slammed it onto the desk, and flipped through the pages.
“I’m not even sure if we have that many rooms available in the hotel,” Bosworth said, looking into the reservations log.
At that point, Sanaa knew she had him. If there was one thing in this world that spoke louder than words, it was money. It really did make the world go ’round, even if it was fake.
“Don’t worry, babe, you’re gonna do fine,” Danielle encouraged Kemo as they sat in the car outside of Club All In. “Here, I’ve been saving this for a little while, and I want you to have it,” she said, reaching into her pocketbook and pulling out fifty stacks. She placed the money in his hand.
Kemo knew better than to ask about how she got the money. His ignorance about some parts of her lifestyle was his peace of mind. Still, as any good street dude would be, he was curious, and he had been doing a little bit of research into how she grew her loot. A couple of times when she thought he was sleep or off in another room, he had overheard bits of conversations. He looked at the money she handed him, and placed the envelope in his pocket.
At the bottom of the barrel, Kemo had to go back to doing the only thing he knew best, which was counting cards in the lovely game of blackjack. It was something he tried to leave in his past after getting into the drug game, considering he’d been banned from entering any casino in Atlanta City or in Las Vegas. A card counter lived a very different kind of life, and even though the money was good, it was a lot of work and long nights. It had the risk of prison time, and depending on the casino, it could cost a life, and that was something Kemo had nearly experienced a few times in his short career. Like anything—counting cards, street hustle, or producing a product niggas wanted to buy—it all came down to the numbers. You had to weigh your options, and your risk factors.
“Remember, babe, this is only a warm-up to get you back in the rhythm of things, before we go out to Atlantic City,” she coached. The larger casinos didn’t always watch things as they should. Kemo knew he could get by some of the security; he could grease their palms a little to look the other way.
Danielle almost seemed to be talking to a child she was dropping off at school on his first day. This was where she wanted him, knowing the potential he had, and how easy it was for him to be a millionaire almost overnight. Those were the good old days she was used to having when she first met him, and all she wanted to do was get back to those times.
Counting cards and moving weight were two of Kemo’s talents. Both could give the government his life or, worse, the streets could take it. Either way, he needed and wanted money. He couldn’t adjust to being a basic nigga. Living from paycheck to paycheck for damn pennies. Kemo was a dude who always had that ace in the hole, even when he appeared to be against the wall, and down to his last. He wasn’t as good at drug dealing as he was at counting cards, and the money didn’t even equal up. It was crazy, because Danielle’s whole plan for robbing Kemo was to get him to dig up a couple million he had put away when he stoppe
d counting cards. She was simply going to take the money and go on about her way, but after she found out that he was completely broke and had dug that money up a long time ago, she had to improvise and persuade him to do what he did.
Kemo walked to the back of the club where the door to the poker tables was. This was his first time there, only having heard about it from a couple of his boys. He wasn’t even sure if they were going to let him in, but in the event he had any problems getting in, his man Troy had told him to use his name. That’s exactly what he had to do, because Joi didn’t see his name on the list, and wasn’t going to let him in.
“Coffee, soda, juice, or tobacco,” the waitress announced, walking past the tables.
It was bigger and better than Kemo thought, a place he felt he should have already been coming to. It really looked like the floor of a casino, boss pit included. He found his way over to the blackjack table, where only a couple people sat. It had been so long since he counted cards, but it seemed like it all came back to him at once. He looked over and saw the sign that said NO LIMIT, which brought a smile to his face.
“Coffee, soda, juice, tobacco,” the waitress announced again walking past the blackjack table.
“Let me get a shot of Hennessy straight,” Kemo ordered. “And let me get some chips,” he said to the dealer, placing $12,000 on the table.
Kemo didn’t play the first couple of hands because the deck was almost finished, so he just waited it out so that he could get a fresh start on the cards. He was only there for a few minutes, and had already planned to break the house. He took in the security posted up around the floor, and he noticed the two cash-out booths on the side by the slot machines. He took inventory of everything, including how many people were in the building. Those were just some of the things a card counter had to look out for in the event that a speedy exit was needed, something Kemo was also good at.
Sanaa pulled up to the club, and it seemed to be even more packed than it was the night before, which only meant that the money was moving according to plan. She decided to take the back way to get inside. As she walked to the back door, Sleepy sitting in the alleyway in the dark startled her. Off instinct, she pulled her gun and held it in front of her until she recognized who it was.
“Boy, you scared da shit out of me,” Sanaa said, tucking her gun in its holster on her hip. “Why you ain’t inside, and what happened to you last night?”
“Let’s deal with one thing at a time,” Sleepy replied, grabbing Sanaa’s arm and pulling her farther back into the alleyway.
“What’s going on?” she asked, as he led her almost to the end of the alley.
When they got to the end of the alley, Sleepy went behind the large green Dumpster and grabbed a man who was still somewhat knocked out. Sanaa didn’t know what the hell was going on. She didn’t recognize the man at all.
After a few smacks across his face, the man woke up in a panic. He looked directly at Sanaa, who he knew to be the owner of the club.
“What da fuck is goin’ on?” the man yelled, sitting up on his elbows.
“You want to tell her what you told me inside?” Sleepy asked the man.
“Young’un, all I said was that I want my money back, because this shit y’all paid me with is fake!”
“Fake, what makes you think that?” Sanaa asked, wanting to see what the man knew.
“Yeah, it’s fake, and just know that I know,” the man continued.
Sanaa wasn’t sure if the man was an old school hustler who recognized counterfeit bills, or if he was just a simple man making a guess. Either way, her main concern was who else he might have told this to. If something like this got out, it would surely blow the spot, and possibly put Sanaa in prison faster than she’d thought. Even worse, the streets might take justice into their own hands, and end up killing her and the whole crew. Philly was known for a nice body count every year, and she wasn’t trying to add herself to it.
“Who else knows?” Sanaa asked the man. “And how did you find out?”
“I was at the bar, and the bartender spilled some seltzer water on the tip I left her. The ink started to fade away, but the bartender took the money before I could say anything. Come on, man, I didn’t tell anybody, and I promise I won’t say nothing,” the man pled, seeing that maybe he had put himself in a bad situation by complaining.
He might have been telling the truth, but Sanaa couldn’t afford to take the chance of this little secret getting out. She drew her weapon from her hip, aimed it at the man’s head, then pulled the trigger. The hollow-point bullet entered his skull and exploded in his brain before exiting the side of his head.
Sleepy was taken by surprise. He looked down the other end of the alley to make sure that nobody saw or heard the shot. Everyone at the other end of the alley toward the club was so worried about the car show going on in front of the club, and the loud music, they didn’t even hear the shot. At the other end of the alley was a bunch of car traffic, and nobody even paid attention to what was going on in the alley, so the coast was clear.
Sanaa took her gun, wiped it down with her shirt, and then tossed it on the ground right next to the body. She walked away as if nothing ever happened.
Sleepy followed her and was about to ask her if that was a good move, murdering a man so close to the club. But before he could get a word out, Sanaa’s phone rang.
“So what happened to you last night?” Sanaa asked Royce, not even saying hello.
“I was busy taking care of something,” he responded. “But fuck that right now; did Krystol say anything to you today?” he asked, hoping Sanaa would know where she was.
“No, why, where is she?”
“That’s the problem, I don’t know. She left this morning and I don’t know where she went.”
“Hold up,” Sanaa said, stopping in the middle of the alley. “You mean to tell me you don’t know where she’s at?” she asked in a concerned manner.
“No, I have no idea.” Royce had driven around all day trying to find her. He checked bus stations, train stations, and he damn near boarded the only flight to Atlanta, which he eventually found out that she wasn’t on.
“So where is my niece?” Sanaa asked.
He just shook his head, because he couldn’t answer that question either. That’s what made him so sick. He worried most about Raven, and if he had her safe with him, it would have eased his heart.
“Look, sis, I don’t have any of them answers right now, but if she comes by, just hit me and let me know, okay?”
“No question, brah, and you call me and let me know when you find them.”
Sanaa and Sleepy finally made it into the casino, and the first thing she noticed was the large amount of people there tonight. She also couldn’t help but to notice the crowd of people gathered around the blackjack table, and the loud cheers coming from the players. Kemo was making the best of his skills, and the people around him were enjoying it. He was a little rusty coming out of the gate and losing the twenty grand Danielle gave him in the car, but he rallied back with his last three grand, and he was now on a winning streak.
“What’s goin’ on?” Sanaa asked as she walked to the pit where Joi was standing.
“He cashed in about twenty-three grand, lost twenty, and now he just got his money back,” Joi reported. “He’s been on a streak for the past twenty minutes.”
“What about everybody else?” Sanaa asked, looking around at the other tables.
“The house is winning,” she answered with a smile on her face.
“Good, I’ll take it from here. Oh, and I need you to get upstairs and relieve Pam from the bar. She’s fuckin’ up,” Sanaa yelled over the cheers coming from the blackjack table.
As the night cooled down and the last few people left the casino, Sanaa crunched the numbers again, and this time she had done a lot better than before. The club was starting to attract a lot of attention, just the way she wanted. It was a successful night, despite the fact that Kemo had left with se
venty grand. It was nothing compared to the $143,000 that Club All In had made for the night. As usual, the casino made the bulk of the money. She had even done better with exchanging the money, and she still had around six hundred grand left.
From this point on, it only looked like things were going to get better; that is, if she could prevent people like the dead man sitting in the alleyway waiting to be found from finding out about the funny money.
Chapter 13
Detective Thomas squatted down over the dead body in the alley, pointing with his ink pen at the entry hole in the victim’s skull. The forensics unit was on the scene as well, taking pictures and collecting evidence from the victim’s body and the surrounding area. The most obvious piece of evidence that caught the detective’s attention was a neon green band around the victim’s right wrist. It had the words SINGLE ADMISSION written around it.
“What you think this is?” Thomas asked his partner, pointing to the band.
“I don’t know. It looks like something you get when you go to a club or something,” he answered.
Detective Thomas stood and looked up and down the alley. He started walking down the alley toward the opposite end, looking up at the buildings as he passed them. He walked all the way around to the front of the building, and the more he walked, the more neon-colored wristbands he saw on the ground. It was like a line of clues that eventually led him right to the front door of Club All In.
“Who’s the manager?” he asked Yellow, who was behind the bar cleaning glasses.
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