Gutta Mamis

by N’Tyse

  The phone rang. “Youngun, where the fuck you at?” Detrick screamed into the phone, spit flying from his mouth. “Where the fuck are Jose and Will? Wasn’t they supposed to hook up with PJ last night at the spot? I told them I ain’t want her to go alone. What the hell happened?”

  Lenora tucked her cape under her arm and headed for the door.

  “Hold up, Nora.” He stretched out a hand at her as he spoke back into the phone. “Go over there and see where the fuck they at. I’m about to go to PJ’s mom’s spot. Yeah. Get back at me.”

  Lenora hesitated and then kept walking.

  “Was the girl alive or dead, Nora? When you got there…was she alive?”

  Lenora didn’t respond.

  Detrick ran after her. “When you got there, was she dead or alive?”

  “What does it matter, Detrick? We cleaned the scene. Like we always do.”

  “Shit, shit, shit, shit.” He pounded his fist against his forehead.

  Fear spread through Lenora’s chest like a shot of nitrogen. He was losing his mind; this was a side of Detrick she had never seen—had never wanted to see.

  “You know Jose, you seen him over here. Was he in there? What about Will?”

  Lenora just stared straight across the room.

  “Tell me something, Nora. Say something.”

  “I don’t know.” Lenora shook her head as tears ran down her face. “I honestly didn’t look at all their faces. I just know the girl. I remember the girl.”

  “Hold up…” Detrick ran into the kitchen. Lenora inched closer to the door. She heard drawers open and close and then he was back, moving faster than she had ever seen. He held out a photo.

  Aw shit. Lenora’s heart stopped.

  “Is this her?”

  Lenora knew without looking that it was the girl. Of course it was her. How else would life play this out; there was no way it wouldn’t be her. Lenora’s tongue had just started a damn war, one that would have been fought anyway, but that she wouldn’t have been a part of if she had kept her mouth shut. Now she had placed herself, Tandra and Breeze right in the middle of some shit. Unless she could talk Detrick out of revealing his source.

  One look in his deranged face verified that trying to get him to contain himself would be a waste of time.

  “I don’t know,” Lenora mumbled, pushing the photograph away and opening the door. “I got to go.”

  “Fuck that.” Detrick slammed the door shut and grabbed Lenora by the back of her neck like a puppy.

  “Ow!”

  Detrick dragged her back into the house. “You ain’t going no fucking where.”

  “Detrick, you’re hurting me!”

  Detrick’s eyes clicked; he seemed beyond understanding anything Lenora said. The ruthless man in him, the one that Lenora had only heard rumors about, had entered the room; the playful Detrick she had spent the last few hours sexing had vanished.

  Detrick put his face so close to Lenora that her eyes crossed. He pressed his forehead against hers until the pressure became painful. “You fucking telling me y’all killed her? What about my other peoples. You just cleaned them away like they was fucking trash?”

  “Detrick, I swear, I don’t know who they was and they probably wasn’t even your folks. Wait and see if your people call back.”

  “You hear any of my phones ringing back? Huh? My peoples gets back at me. Immediately. They don’t make me wait. You know that.”

  Lenora stood in pain, tears running down her face. She moved her head back from Detrick, despite the tight grip. Her fingers clawed at his large hand. He blinked and looked at her as if he realized who she was for the first time. She thought about the Glocks strapped to her legs, but that wasn’t even an option. Detrick was her man. Well, kind of. And she would never pull a weapon on him or do anything to hurt him. He was just acting out right now, just caught off-guard. But the feelings she felt for him ran deep. Flashbacks of his whispered promises snapped through her mind when he was taking her from behind last night, when he touched places in her essence that even the Lord Almighty had never entered.

  Detrick was, in some ways, her god.

  He dragged her back into the house. His movements were jerky; Lenora tugged, trying to get away, and bumped her chin in the doorway. A few steps later, her hip painfully knocked against the coffee table.

  “Detrick, please, please let me go.”

  Detrick yanked her around to face him and changed his grip to the front of her neck and looked at her like a crazy man. Lenora didn’t recognize him. She might have to hurt him, but she didn’t want to. She didn’t know if she had it in her to do it.

  His cell phone rang. He released his grip and pointed at the chair across from the couch without saying a word.

  Lenora rolled her eyes, her mouth turned down in a frown. Fuck him for acting like this. She plopped down in the chair and stared at her hands. They were shaking. She could see Breeze’s gray eyes in her mind; she could remember the cold determination in them.

  “PJ was talking to Crown last night? Where? What the fuck…what was he even doing there—he don’t go to Mira’s spot? Who she left with? Oh no…”

  Lenora was in a world of trouble; she had a better chance of running out of quicksand than escaping Detrick’s house. And she didn’t want him mad at her; she wanted him to understand that she had no choice, that it wasn’t her fault. She wanted to be his girl, to have him this concerned about her, to love her this much.

  Her own weakness turned her stomach. Lenora swallowed the bile collecting at the back of her throat. She was pathetic. Some small part in the back of her mind knew that she was simply turned out; that Detrick was nothing but another man and she needed to use the guns resting on her thighs to end the chaos before it even got started. If she simply pulled the trigger now, no one would ever know. Breeze would never know she had talked, Tandra would never know how weak she really was. No one would know she had violated the rules by sleeping with a client. Detrick’s counterattack on her, Breeze and Tandra, Crown, or whoever the hell he was planning to hit, would be stopped.

  It could all end now with a single bullet to his dome.

  Lenora watched Detrick talking on the phone, stared at the perfect curve of his wide shoulders stretched under the T-shirt, observed his narrow hips and the jeans that fell just right across his butt. He was a thing of physical perfection. His tongue licking her inner thigh flashed in her mind, the look of ecstasy across his face when he released filled her head. Some part of him loved her; he just didn’t realize it.

  She couldn’t kill him. She wouldn’t. Detrick’s world was falling apart and he needed her right now.

  6

  “I don’t want no damn tortilla chips, Lele.” Breeze leaned back on the large red velvet lounge chair. “How many times we got to come to this restaurant.”

  Lele breathed deeply. “Breeze, this is my favorite spot. You know it. Why are you acting so ill?”

  Breeze ignored her and glanced around the restaurant. She dropped a couple hundred in here a week, because it was where Lele insisted on eating for lunch. During their couple time. When Lele demanded Breeze cut off the entire world for at least an hour and relax with her.

  Breeze glanced at her diamond-encrusted watch. Lele’s hour was almost over.

  “You could act like you want to be here.” Lele’s voice was quiet and soft, not the normal powerful energy Breeze was used to.

  “It’s not like that.” Breeze felt ashamed. Just a little bit. Lele held her down in ways nobody else ever had; she loved Breeze unconditionally. And Breeze was a damn mess; she couldn’t help herself. When someone attracted her, she had to sample it. When she wanted something, she had to have it. If she needed to go there, she had to be there. Her needs and demands were endless, because she refused to deny herself anything. A childhood of struggling, her late teen years of hustling and having to out-gangsta the men in her crew, had taken their toll. Since she worked hard, she damn sure played hard. Any other per
son would have left her alone. But not Lele, sitting here with her funky haircut with blond highlights, lip gloss sparkling and a body-fitting dress with a jean jacket and high-heeled boots. Lele held on and kept herself looking good for Breeze and demanded Breeze squeeze herself into this relationship mode, which fit Breeze like a shoe two sizes too small.

  But for her effort alone, Breeze would do it for her. She would do anything for Lele.

  “I’m tired, ma. That’s why I’m grouchy.”

  “I know.” Lele drank the rest of her margarita. “I have my own needs, too, Breeze. And it’s not fair to you for me to keep binding you down.”

  “Binding me down?” Breeze scooted closer to Lele and laid her head in her lap. The cool thing about the restaurant was that each table was its own intimate lounge area with a coffee table in front. She had full access to Lele’s hourglass figure. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean this. How I am dragging you to my favorite spot and you don’t want to be here.” Lele stroked Breeze’s hand with her palm as she looked into her eyes. “Don’t try to front. You hate it here.”

  “No, I don’t.” Breeze closed her eyes and felt the rhythm of Lele’s blood pulsing through her veins. “I’m here, ain’t I?”

  “But that’s the thing, Breeze. I don’t want to be in a relationship with someone who is just here.”

  Breeze’s eyes opened. She and Lele had done this dance before. Lele wasn’t going anywhere. “Why are you starting this now?” Breeze’s phone beeped. She looked at the screen and saw the code 312. It was Tandra.

  “You going to take that?”

  “You want the bill for this food paid?” Breeze didn’t look up at Lele as she sat up and called Tandra.

  No answer from Lele as she dug into her purse. Breeze ignored her, keeping her eyes on the female bartender wearing the thin pink T-shirt while the phone rang.

  Lele pulled out her lip gloss and freshened it, then she checked out her hair in her small compact.

  “Hello.” Tandra’s voice sounded heavy. She was wearing herself thin.

  “What’s up?”

  “I can’t find Nora.”

  Breeze glanced over at Lele who was now also looking at the bartender and glancing back and forth between her and Breeze. The vibe was thick, Lele must have sensed it. Breeze pointedly kept her eyes on the bartender, anyway—Lele would have to accept it.

  “Why are you looking for her?”

  She heard Tandra sigh and also heard her heels clicking against the pavement. “I got to meet with Crown. I wanted Lenora there with me. Two is better than one.”

  “Especially when y’all go in looking like a couple of femme fatale divas. That’s always good for business.”

  “Either way,” Tandra said, ignoring Breeze, “I can’t find Nora. After last night, I don’t want her out of pocket too long.”

  Lele pulled out a hundred-dollar bill and sat it in the billfold. Breeze eyed it and glanced at Lele, questioning. She had to have some twenties in her purse instead of the hundred-dollar bill. Lele ignored her, standing up and adjusting her dress.

  “What you have in mind, Tandy?” Breeze needed Tandra to get to the fucking point. Lele was up to something, Breeze could feel it. This wasn’t the time to play babysitter, either; Lenora had better get it together.

  “I don’t want to go to Crown’s spot with nobody backing me, Breeze.”

  “You want me in on the meet?” That was a first. Tandra had never asked before. Breeze didn’t know it had bothered her until just now, when the question had finally been asked. She should have been asked before now. But, then again, Breeze had a clear defined role in this thing. The business belonged to Tandra and the way Tandra ran it had kept their pockets full and their jobs coming in steadily.

  “No.” Tandra didn’t even pause. “Breeze, what the fuck do you think? Yes, I want you there. But not in the meet with Crown. I need you to make sure I get in and out. I was going to ask you to come with us, anyway; I feel like you need to be there. But it’s just gonna be me and you.”

  Breeze was silent. The brief sting of disappointment at not being in the meet was drowned out by Lele, swaying her hips as she seductively moved to the bar and took a seat.

  “Ain’t this some shit?” Breeze said under her breath.

  “What, Breeze? I can’t hear you.”

  “Nothing. I didn’t say nothing.”

  “Okay, can you meet me in thirty minutes? At the warehouse. Drive something else, not your joint and not the van. I want you to keep an eye on things while I am in there.”

  “No problem. Thirty minutes.” Breeze slapped the phone closed, her eyes locked on Lele talking to the bartender. Lele slid the bartender a piece of paper and then she held the bartender’s hand and wrote on her wrist. The bartender’s curly hair seemed to bounce along with the vibrant music; her eyes never left Lele’s hips. She reminded Breeze of a black Betty Boop.

  Breeze stood up. Lele pulled away from the bartender and walked to the door. She put her sunglasses on before she stepped through the heavy glass doors. She never looked back at Breeze.

  “This bitch.” Breeze looked around for the waiter. She had to go, but she wasn’t leaving the waiter with that hundred-dollar bill. She needed change and then would give a tip.

  As her eyes scanned the large room, she noticed Betty Boop walking toward her with a huge grin on her face. “You must be Breeze.”

  “Depends.” Breeze wasn’t interested in playing games at the moment; the bartender was no longer important. She had to get outside to Lele and cuss her out for how she was acting.

  “On what?” The bartender smiled again. She wasn’t taking the hint.

  Breeze tucked her hands in her pockets and locked her steel-gray eyes on the bartender. “On who’s asking and why.”

  “Well, I am Jessica. And Lele asked me to bring this to you.” Jessica smirked as she handed her the note. Breeze took it, ignoring Jessica’s smile as she walked away.

  You take what you want. I am doing the same.

  Breeze balled up the note in her fist. She snatched the hundred-dollar bill from the folder and dropped two twenties and a ten on the table instead. She didn’t have time for Lele and her games right now. Breeze walked out.

  7

  During the day, a nightclub is the emptiest space in the world. People fill the space, working and preparing for the night to come, but it seems like the skeleton of what the club really is, the opposite of when it is pulsating with moving bodies and hypnotic rhythms.

  Club Enjami was no different. It was one of Crown’s spots, the space where he happened to be most of the time. Tandra knew she could find him there. She wanted full payment for her trouble the night before and she wanted her money immediately. She didn’t have a relationship with Crown and wasn’t going to risk falling victim to “out of sight, out of mind” bullshit as it pertained to her money.

  Walking up to the three-story warehouse, she glanced over her shoulder at Breeze sitting in a dark black Cadillac. The real owner of the car would be pissed when he discovered his ride was gone. Tandra couldn’t see Breeze, but it was good knowing that she was there, that Tandra wasn’t alone.

  “Can you hear me?” Tandra whispered without moving her mouth as she stepped into the cool space, hoping the small microphone hidden in her collar was working

  “No doubt.” Breeze’s voice sounded small and computerized. It didn’t matter; at least they could hear each other.

  Tandra adjusted her short red wig, checked her lipstick in her reflection in the glass, and pulled open the door.

  As soon as Tandra stepped into the warehouse, she felt blinded. It took a quick second for her eyes to adjust to the dark atmosphere. A lady in all black came over to her. “May I help you?”

  “Yes.” Tandra looked around the room, but didn’t see anyone of obvious power in her space. “I need to see Crown. I have an appointment,” she lied.

  The girl looked her up and down and then, accepting her stor
y, said, “Follow me.”

  Tandra walked behind the small girl and took in the feel of the club. A couple of people were laughing and talking to each other. A girl with twists in her hair was dancing alone to the quiet music playing in the background. Two men moved lounge furniture around to better accommodate the expected crowd.

  The girl stopped in front of a short man whose long locs were pulled back into a neat ponytail. He wore the vest and pants of a three-piece suit; his expensive pink shirt was flattered by a pink, blue, and gold tie. He looked at her questioningly as the waitress nodded and walked off.

  Tandra was surprised; she had been expecting bodyguards and an entourage of men, which was why she wanted to bring Lenora. The two of them together, dressed to kill and exuding sensuality, would give off an image of mystery. By herself, Tandra hoped she could still maintain that professionalism and get the benefit from it that she needed.

  “May I help you?”

  “I am not sure,” Tandra said, as she again glanced around the club. “I am here to meet Crown.”

  “And you are?”

  “Tandra. We have business to discuss.”

  The man nodded; his face blank. Tandra continued, without showing any emotion. “I own a cleaning business.”

  “Tandra.” His English accent kicked in and he stood straight up, returning to a stature of royalty. She realized that he had purposely changed his accent and stance as a cover. “I know you.”

  “So you are Crown.”

  “How is it we haven’t met before?” He moved closer to her, taking her hand in his and leading her to a table in the rear of the club, away from the few people working and the couple of people just lounging.

  “No reason to. I don’t like to pay clients a visit; I prefer to have payment worked out before my duties are carried out.”

  “Of course you do.” He observed her like she was entertainment. “So, how do you want to do this?”

  Tandra’s hand floated near her Beretta. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, what are you charging me and how do you want your money?”