by Nikki Turner
“You know that. Just hold on tight to that check. When you get home, deposit that shit right in the bank.”
“Boo, you know I got you if there's anything you need to do with this money.”
“Naw, just save it all for a rainy day. You know I take care of you, and just because you got a fat-ass check, I'm still your provider.”
“I know, but just so you know that this is our money, not just mine.”
Cleezy switched up the conversation a bit. “Use that money I gave you before you left and buy something nice. You in LA, baby!”
“I know, and you know they got some good shops out here.”
“Yeah, so just go splurge with my money and keep yours in the bank, just like you always do.”
“Boo, honestly, I probably can't wear nothing in those shops and especially the extra-high-end boutiques. That stuff is made for petite women.”
Cleezy tried to be comforting. “Look, baby, it's a whole bunch of shops out there and a lot of shoe stores.”
“Boo, I can't wait for my lipo. I'm tired of all this fat I'm carrying around.”
“I told you before, baby, and I meant what I said. If it makes you happy, then we just gon' cut him the check. It's just that simple. For the record, I don't see nothing wrong with you. Big or small, I love you, and that shit right there ain't going to ever change. But I'll support your decision.”
As the date of Mercy's movie premiere grew closer, she nailed down a date with the doctor to perform her plastic surgery so that she would have enough time to heal fully. Mercy decided on a tummy tuck and some lipo. She was scared of going under, but with Cleezy by her side the whole way, she proceeded with her surgery. She needed a whole month just to walk upright and another month to get back into the groove of things, and still she had to take it easy. As she healed, she lay in the bed and tried to think about all the important people who had impacted her life to invite to the premiere. She couldn't wait for everybody to see the new Mercy. Nurse Allen, the nurse who took care of her after she was beaten in the hotel, was one of the folks she invited. Mercy wasn't sure if she still worked at the hospital, so she decided to call and see.
“Hi, I'm calling to speak with a Nurse Allen,” Mercy said into the phone.
“May I ask who's calling?” the operator asked.
“This is Mercy Jiles. I was a patient of Nurse Allen's.”
“Hold please, and I'll connect you to her unit.”
Mercy sat on hold for a few minutes listening to what sounded like elevator music until a voice picked up on the other end of the phone.
“Nurse Allen speaking,” she said.
“Hi, Nurse Allen. I don't know if you remember me or not, but my name is Mercy Jil—”
Nurse Allen cut her off. “Ohhh … I can't believe it. Mercy Jiles. My gosh, girl. I am so proud of you and your accomplishments.”
“Thank you so much,” Mercy said, humbled.
“You know you were my favorite patient.”
“And you know you were my favorite nurse.”
“I don't believe you.”
“You were.”
“Get out of here,” she said, surprised.
“I heard all about and saw how you took care of me.”
“I tried to do my best to protect you. As soon as you came in, I took your things and put them away so the police wouldn't get them. I didn't know if you were doing something you had no business to be doing or not, but I did know that you were too pretty to be caught up in that madness.”
“Thank you so much!”
“No problem, baby. I'm just glad that your sister showed up and I was able to give her your money to hold.”
“Money?” Mercy said, confused.
“Yeah, all that money in your suitcase. It had to be over twenty thousand dollars. I know you got knocked up pretty bad, but don't nobody forget no twenty thousand dollars. Lucky for you that your sister—God bless her little heart for staying at your bedside day and night—was able to hold on to it for you.”
Mercy's temperature rose. Tallya had stung her again. Mercy didn't want Nurse Allen to pick up on her boiling anger, so she played it off and continued with her reason for calling.
“Yes, and I truly thank you so much! Look, I want you to come to my movie premiere.”
“I wouldn't miss it for nothing in the world.”
“Well, I need to get your mailing address so we can get the special passes out to you.”
Mercy could not wait to hang up the phone to call Cleezy to let him know about Tallya's larceny-hearted behind. Once she wrote down Nurse Allen's address and they said their good-byes, Mercy hung up the phone. She was piping mad, and picked the phone right back up to call Cleezy.
“Boo, I can't believe this hating-ass no-good beyatch!” Mercy yelled into the phone. “That ho Tallya not only tried to cock block me from getting a cosmetic endorsement deal with my friend Kathy the one I told you about that I met at the airport—”
“Umm-hmm,” Cleezy said, waiting for Mercy to get to the point.
“—well, that bitch had the nerve to keep my twenty fuckin' grand. Them dudes never even got me for my paper; that bitch got me. The bitch straight up robbed me. When I see that bitch I swear I'ma beat her ass. I promise you that. So just have the bail money in the stash.”
“Calm down,” Cleezy said in a relaxed tone. “Baby, listen. Don't focus on that negative shit. Focus on the positive.”
“I just hate that bitch not only won't pay me for my work, but the little bit of money that she did pay me”—Mercy's voice got louder as she stopped pacing the floor and emphasized—“she paid me from my own shit. That bitch paid me with my own goddamn money. How about that? She over there eating bon-bons, sippin' on latte, and ain't write shit. And the only finger she lifts is to spread the Grey Poupon and count my money.”
“I know, baby,” Cleezy said, still in a relaxed tone. “I'm on my way home and we gon' talk about it then. Just calm down.”
Cleezy's cool tone made Mercy feel less upset. “I'm sorry, baby. I know you are working, but I just had to vent, and who better than to my knight in shining armor?”
“I know, baby. I know, but check this; I'll be home in a little while and we'll talk then.”
“Okay baby” Mercy said as she hung up the phone. If Mercy only knew that her Prince Charming wasn't always charming when someone violated anything that was his, and without a doubt, Mercy was his and Tallya was in violation.
CHAPTER 31
It's a Wrap
It was during the wee hours in the morning when Cook'em-up and Cleezy crept down the wide foyer leading to the master bedroom of Benjamin Arlow's Hamptons mansion. The security wasn't as airtight as the owners thought it was. In the forty seconds the alarm system allowed for the homeowner to punch in their security code, Cook'em-up had already disarmed the system. If they had known that it was going to be that easy then the task at hand would have been completed days ago.
“Get the fuck up, bitch,” Cleezy yelled as he stood over Tallya, who had been sleeping like a princess, probably counting money in her sleep. “Bitch, get the fuck up.”
Tallya jumped up in surprise and woke up Benjamin, who saw what looked like two black ninjas at their bedside.
“Don't try nothing stupid, Grandpa, because my man ain't rocked nobody in a hot down-south minute,” Cook'em-up warned him.
“W-What's wrong? T-Take whatever you want,” a nervous Benjamin said.
“Get the fuck up out of the bed, bitch! Your beauty rest is over,” Cleezy said, pulling Tallya up out of the bed by the arm.
“Bitch, move faster. I ain't never been no woman beater, but I will beat the shit out of you and kill you just on GP after I get what I want.”
“What is it that you want?” Benjamin said in a calm tone, making it clear that he wanted peace. His old butt wasn't on no Superman shit, trying to save the day. “Money? Is it money that you want? I can get you money.”
“Shut the fuck up and just liste
n,” Cook'em-up said, and turned to Cleezy “Yo, man, you deal with Gramps and I'll handle her.”
Cleezy released Tallya with a push into Cook'em-up's hands. Cook'em-up then ordered Tallya to take him to where she kept her books. Tallya led him into her office.
“Sit the fuck down,” Cook'em-up said as he pushed her down onto the expensive brown leather couch in her office.
“Please, just tell me what you want? I'll do whatever you want,” Tallya said, insinuating that she'd do anything, even if it meant sex.
“Bitch, please.” He laughed.
“Please, just don't hurt me,” she sobbed.
“Oh, now you want to cry like a bitch, huh?”
Cleezy was in the bedroom with Benjamin, who was terrified and yet tried to remain calm while getting to the bottom of things.
“I don't understand,” Benjamin pleaded. “What is it that's going on here?”
“Look, old man, it's like this,” Cleezy started. “Your bitch ain't playing fair with you or with her affiliates in her little bullshit-ass company that you fronted. And as you know, what your bitch does reflects on you. I've followed your career. You've always seemed to be a pretty respectable player in the game. I got a lot of respect for you, so that's why I'm talking to you man to man. I didn't come in here to make this place a massacre or tie you up or none of that. A nigga like you, I know your kind and I know you ain't trying to die for no bitch. Or are you?”
Benjamin shook his head. “Hell no. Die for a broad … I got too many of them to die for just one.”
“Okay then, playa, we're on the same page.” Cleezy didn't raise his voice as he continued schooling Benjamin. “My man got the broad in the other room. I need you to go in there and get all of the contracts that she has signed with her artists. I need copies of them all.” Cleezy began to run down his list of demands. “The contracts need to be not only burned, but I need documentation that she is releasing each and every artist out of their contracts and that their rights will revert back to each and every one of them. Just in case you try some shit.”
“No problem,” Benjamin said without hesitation.
“I want the documents faxed and e-mailed. But first I want you to call your attorney right now and let him know that you want the company dismantled because you and Tallya had a fight. Say something like you caught her fucking a nigga in your shit and the bitch is done.” Cleezy handed him the phone, and Benjamin did as he was told. Then Cleezy had him follow up in an e-mail to his attorney. Benjamin looked up from the computer, shaking. Cleezy thought he was going to fall over into convulsions.
“What is it? You all right, old man?”
“I need a smoke,” Benjamin said, nodding towards the drawer on the credenza behind him.
Cleezy gave him a Cuban cigar, and they sat and had a drink together like two old college buddies as they waited for the attorney to call Benjamin to tell him that the release documents had been drawn up.
“I swear, man,” Benjamin said. “I didn't know she wasn't paying her people.”
“Well, she wasn't,” Cleezy informed him. “If she was, I wouldn't be here now.”
“I believe you. It's just that there have been times when she came to me for the money she needed to pay them.”
“Well, the joke was on you, huh?”
Eventually the attorney phoned Benjamin to let him know that he was faxing the documents. Once they arrived, Cleezy had Benjamin take him to the office where Cook'em-up and Tallya were. Benjamin walked into the room with his cigar in his mouth, placed the documents and a nice Montblanc ink pen in front of her, and said, “Sign right here.”
Tallya skimmed over the documents. “Baby, what's this? Why are you doing this? My company?”
“My company,” Benjamin corrected her. “Just sign them.”
Tears filled Tallya's eyes as she began signing on the dotted line. Benjamin might as well have been pouring gasoline on every dollar she ever got and lighting a match to it. The life she had been living was over.
“There's one more thing you guys forgot about,” Benjamin said.
Cleezy looked at him with a puzzled look on his face. “Pardon me?” Cleezy looked over at Cook'em-up as if saying, “Is this nigga stupid or something? Damn, I know we were drinking together, but I know he ain't about to help us out.”
“You nice fellas need to go into her purse and get her checkbook so that she can pay the artists whatever they are due from her own personal checking account. I'm sure she has it there. I mean, it has to be somewhere,” Benjamin said, turning his attention to Tallya, “since there isn't any money in the company account and the only thing that has been paid out of that account are bills to Louis Vuitton, Chanel, and Saks.”
Cleezy watched as Tallya damn near had a nervous breakdown coming off all of those ducats that she had hidden away in her own personal account.
“And don't even think about trying to stop payment on those fuckin' checks, either. You stop payment, bitch, you stop breathing,” Cleezy sharply and coldly reminded her. Tallya looked up at him, and his eyes confirmed to her that he meant business.
Cook'em-up suddenly intervened, as if having an epiphany. “You's a smart little bitch.” He then looked up at Cleezy. “It was in the name. It was all in the name.”
Tallya stopped whimpering for a minute and looked at him. “It was in the name, only motherfuckers just didn't get it,” Cook'em-up continued. The room was silent. “Bermuda Triangle. Motherfuckers don't never know what they getting into when they go into the Bermuda Triangle. I should kill you for being a bold bitch!”
“Package that shit up,” Cleezy said, turning his attention back to the release documents. “Put them in the FedEx envelopes and address them out. This is the last mail run for Bermuda Triangle.” Tallya did as she was told. “And it's like this. All that shit that you sold, talking that gangsta shit, that's what the fuck I live every motherfucking day. Every time you think you want to talk about this night, think about the worst killing ever done gangsta style, and that's what you are going to get.”
“And that's a promise, you greedy beyatcchhh,” Cook'em-up added.
“I'll make the drop of those packages for you.” Cleezy grabbed the packages and exited the house.
They went to the nearest FedEx drop box and put the envelopes in them. The next morning the packages were delivered to each of the artists. Some were greeted by letters from Tallya on their fax machines and e-mail accounts letting them know that their rights had reverted back to them. The next day, the coroner announced that Benjamin Arlow had died in his Hamptons mansion of cardiac arrest.
CHAPTER 32
Lights, Camera, Action
It was three days before the premiere of Mercy's movie. The front-page story on every newspaper stand as well as the top story on every news broadcast were all the same. “In a sad and bizzare turn, noted billionaire entrepreneur Benjamin Arlow died recently from a heart attack in his mansion in the Hamptons. It has been speculated that this was precipitated by an argument with his girlfriend, Tallya Daniels, whom he caught in a compromising position with two men in the home they shared. Daniels is currently on suicide watch in the county jail after being arrested for embezzling funds from Bermuda Triangle, the film distribution company that she and Arlow founded, and which Arlow recently dissolved.
“Immediately after the death, Arlow's daughter, Monique Arlow, pressed embezzlement charges against Daniels. When the authorities finally caught up with Daniels, she was on the Brooklyn Bridge about to jump.” On BET news, Monique Arlow provided the following comment: “My father had plenty of gold diggers in his life, but never has one ever got away with his riches.” She then looked into the camera and added, “And this goes for Ms. Daniels. I never liked the bleep anyway.”
As Mercy tried to digest the news about Tallya, the entertainment reporter came on, and she heard another anchor say, “That brings us to Mercy Jiles's new movie, A Snitch's Life, which is about a drug dealer's girlfriend who kills a snitch
to save him. The movie hits the big screen this week. Her first film was produced by Bermuda Triangle, but her new work was produced and distributed by Paramount Pictures—and the inside scoop is that the film is a winner! Two thumbs-up for Mercy Jiles.”
Mercy was overwhelmed by all the free publicity for her new movie as the gossip papers and shows called her for a comment on the “Bermuda Triangle tragedy,” as they called it. She spoke to any and all and pushed her new project each time. The day of the movie premiere, the response was overwhelming. Everybody who was anybody in the entertainment industry was at her premiere. There were major openings all over the country, and people came out of the woodwork to see her movie.
But her hometown premiere was the best of all. Ms. Pat showed up with all of her old cronies from the projects. Even Bri-anna was there, acting like she was one of the dang stars, but all in all she was cheering from the sideline.
“You look beautiful, baby,” Cleezy said as he removed her long mink coat that she endorsed for Alan Furs. He proudly escorted her into the lobby of the theater where they were showing the Richmond premiere. Mercy sat on the edge of her seat, listening to the reactions of the audience. They laughed and cried at all the right parts. When the movie was over, people applauded and the compliments flowed.
As she and Cleezy came out of the theater, Mercy saw so many people who wanted to meet her. It seemed like everyone wanted a job from her, including a very forgetful Farrah, who acted as if she and Mercy were old friends. Her mouth started hurting from all the smiling she felt she had to do. Mercy noticed a local reporter interviewing a woman in a long black dress outside the theater. It was her momma! Guyd damn people crawl from all under rocks when you make it. She hadn't seen her since that day at the Ambassador Hotel. Her mother was still a good-looking woman, and now she was out here talking about “my baby girl … always knew she had talent. She takes after her daddy.”
Mercy stood there with her mouth open. Her mother looked over at her with proud tears in her eyes, and in that instant Mercy forgave her and released any hatred she had in her heart. After all, you only get one momma.