by Peter Mack
"After the strip club close?” he asked.
"Yeah. But it’s by invitation only. If not then all these skanks from these low-budget holes will show up. It's gon’ be nice and respectable with a DJ and everything."
Stone smiled. "I like the way you make this sound so official."
"I know, hunh?" Misty laughed out. "But I’ll see what’s up for you though. You gon’ hook me up right?"
"Yeah."
"So, what are you talking about? I'm trying to buy a house and not have no mortgage."
"Where at… In Watts?" he joked.
"Hell Naw! I'm thinking Beverly Hills. Why you playing!"
Someone was in the room. He knew who it was before he looked up and saw Coretta standing at the foot of his bed. She stood with her hands on her hips, silently communicating the fact that Serena, if not she herself, was waiting for him.
Stone held up a finger, asking for patience. "Well, we gon’ have to check that out. Give me a call tomorrow sometime and we might work that out." His voice had taken on a more serious tone which Coretta twisted her lips to in response.
"Okay. I like the sound of that. Bye sweetie."
Stone took his time lifting the phone away from his ear. He leaned up on one elbow and observed Coretta calmly, waiting for what she had to say.
"Who was that?" she asked, barely masking her jealousy.
“Are you serious?" he asked, thinking that maybe she was too much for him after all.
For the eight months they’ve been dating there has been no sex. For the first six months he thought she was just testing him, but soon found that she was serious. Now, there was a new aspect to her personality that he was witnessing. Jealousy.
"Is this what I can expect from you?" he asked at length, totally aware that Serena was looking for him to join her for the movie.
"Yes, if you say one thing and do another."
Stone grinned wickedly, her petite chocolate frame affecting him in some way. Her long black hair was pulled into a tight ponytail, accentuating her brown eyes and smooth flat forehead. She was the daughter of privilege with perfect teeth, skin, and mannerisms. She'd never wanted for anything and knew what she wanted from the beginning of conscious thought. Sometimes he wondered if he was exactly who she wanted or did she just get caught up in the mystery of him.
Stone leaned up and scooted to the foot of the bed. He was now before her, looking to her face, his hands on her shapely thighs beneath suede jockey pants tucked into high heel Coach boots. The white cotton bottom-up teased him with a glimpse of her cinnamon cleavage. The lady Rolex necklace he'd purchased for her sparkled around her neck, tipping to her cinnamon cleavage
"What's really on your mind?" he asked in a soft voice, loving the way the light caught her eyes and made them sparkle.
There was a slow shake of her head. “You just have so much going on."
"Not really."
"Yes. You do. Why do you want to marry me?" she asked, which truly shocked him. He'd taken her for a more confident woman, never one to doubt her hold on him. Stone reached to the back of her thighs and pulled her between his legs.
"Because I like the way you respond to me."
"And how do I respond to you?"
"The way I like," he replied sarcastically. "Now, can we go watch the movie?"
Coretta rolled her eyes, as if warding off his seductive nature, before settling her baby brown eyes on him. "You better be good to me," she warned.
"If I'm good to you then I'm good for you." With this he leaned his chin up to signal for a kiss. Coretta hesitated, letting her eyes scan his face. She considered what he'd said.
"I don't know where your lips have been." There was humor in her voice.
In response he leaned his face into her pussy and shook his head violently, forcing an eruption of giggles from her. Not until he allowed her to escape his grasp did she stumble into his soft embrace and lean into him for a tender kiss of reconciliation.
Chapter Five
It was hump day, Wednesday, and this was evident by the expressions on the faces of children entering St. Mary's Catholic school. There was a relief of two days gone in the week and the excitement that after this day there would be only 48 hours to another weekend of fun. Wednesday represents the future of leisure.
Stone coached the luxuriously appointed Range Rover amidst the upper-middle-class automobiles (Volvo and Mercedes mostly) of wealthy city-dwellers, housewives and an occasional father who made his drop-off on the way to the office with the secretary that he may or may not be screwing.
Taking Serena to school was one of Stone's favorite things to do. He enjoyed their conversations and making her laugh at his jokes. This day the subject had been a fellow classmate who didn't like her very much. The classmate would whisper into another girl’s ear and they would laugh together while Serena was near.
"How does that make you feel?" Stone asked, looking to Serena through the rearview mirror. Serena seemed to give this some thought, never taking her eyes off the plasma screen in the passenger seat headrest. When she finally looked to Stone her eyes were fiery bronze.
"It makes me mad," she confessed, her copper toned face red as if light were placed under the tight skin. "I don't like them to talk about me."
Stone resisted smiling since she looked so serious. She'd taken the small earplug from her ear, leaving the laugh-track of Simply Raven to spill onto her lap.
"What do you think they say?"
Serena shook her head quickly, making her two rope-like ponytails swing across her shoulders. "Mira just say stuff because she wants people to be friends with her." She raised her chin in defiance.
"Do you have a friend that agrees with you about Mira?"
Serena brightened. "Staci is my best friend. We share everything."
"That's all you need."
"Yeah, but Mira still says things about me." She looked to Stone hopefully just as they'd pulled to the entrance of St. Mary's.
Stone turned and locked his eyes on her hazel orbs. "Catch Mira by herself and tell her how you feel. Let her know that it makes you upset when she talks behind your back. Ask her to tell you what it is that she wants you to know while you're standing in front of her."
Serena seemed to be looking through him, her thoughts on some future event. Stone wondered if she was deciding if she would be afraid when she suddenly became focused and said, "Like in the bathroom between class periods?" she asked, finding the right time to say what she had to say.
"That might work,” Stone agreed. Serena smiled and raised up to hug him between the seats.
"Thank you uncle Stone," she breathed out as she grabbed up her backpack and opened the door. "Have a good day," she called with the wave as a blonde little girl called her name.
"You too. I'll be sure to pick you up."
"Okay." And then she was absorbed into the small group of uniformed girls. They giggled and shared some intimate story as they climbed the steps to the school. It was as if she'd forgotten Mira just that quick.
Stone pulled away from the curb, throwing up two fingers to a svelte white woman who’d alighted from a BMW similar to his. This had been her opening to talk to the young black man whom she'd been eyeing since day one.
She was intrigued by how he could make his BMW look so mean and shiny although it was the same model as hers. He exclaimed to her it was the Brembo kit and twenty four inch Davin rims that separated his from hers.
She confessed that her husband would never allow such a radical change, her blue eyes blinking knowingly when Stone responded that that was a shame.
Stone never expected that he would trade in his vacation as a flocker for membership in the BRU family. Like an All-Star there was no escaping the premier league to play in, he reasoned.
But this was a new level of the game. It was really like being in the Mafia, he realized only after the contract had been burned and he became privy to information that only a member would know. And now he was moving in a c
ircle of men and women who lived by a code of loyalty and respect that had been tested and found solid. This was his type of circle.
BRU Prince import/export was a glass windowed office fronted by diagonal parking spaces. The discrete office was located in the commercial business park on La Cienega Boulevard near Rodeo Drive.
Stone pulled in beside an Audi A8 sitting on 24” chrome rims. On the other side of this was Kabooby Prince’s Aston Martin DB8. There was also a white Lexus sedan with tinted windows squatting on fat rims. The usual characters were present and accounted for, Stone thought to himself as he stepped from the Range Rover.
Behind the one-way mirror looking out on the parking spaces was a large office with thick carpeting and rare paintings on the walls. Surveying this small space was the office manager, Maria. She was the only way anyone could gain entry.
Stone pressed the small button on the side of the mirrored door.
"BRU Prince Import Export. How may I help you?" came a lilting voice of South American origin.
"Stone Sweetwater," he replied, eager to see if this would be enough, calculating how long before the door snapped open.
There was a small hissing sound to signal that the door was disengaged from its hinges. The interior was cool and plush. On both sides were large white leather couches with black glass-topped tables of fashionable magazines before them. Tall plants serve as bookends for the comfortable sofas.
Maria resembled a Univision television soap opera star. Her raven black hair hung like a sheet of oil over her bare shoulders. The plain white cotton blouse, with ruffled edges, was propped up by large milky white breasts, a diamond heart pendant descending from a slender neck to lay her between them. Stone felt his breath catch at her beauty.
"Hello, Mr. Sweetwater. You may go right in. Mr. Prince is expecting you," she said with a slow wave of her hand to the matted gray steel door to her right.
"Thank you," he said as he moved towards the unmarked entrance.
Seated behind a large matted gray desk was Kabooby Prince. He smiled white out of a black chiseled face with high cheekbones.
"Bru!" he said with a wave of his large hand to those seated around his office as if discussing some intricate plot to take over the world.
The first person he saw was a bronze toned woman seated in a stuffy armchair against the far wall. She looked at him with light brown eyes. Her body was sheathed in fine silk wraps as if she were from China.
"That's Traci. Her husband is here, Brock James," Kabooby announced.
The infamous Brock James. He rose to power in the cocaine trade due to his affiliation with José Cuervo, who was now living in Switzerland, an international fugitive from Columbian and American justice. He nodded with some familiarity towards Stone, who calculated his serious expression as a result of being a fugitive.
"And you met Isiko already. And this is Pup," Kabooby finished.
Isiko sat next to Brock James. They were of the same slim, broad shouldered build with shaved heads and almond shaped eyes. They could have been brothers if not for the quick smile that spread Isiko’s nose and made him look like a brown Asian.
"We hear a lot of good things about you," Pup said into the silence as Stone took a seat next to the door after Kabooby’s gesture.
Pup did look as if he were mixed with Chinese. He was bright skinned, which made the large Chinese character tattoo at the front of his neck stand out all the more. He could have easily been 6’2” for the way he slouched lazily in the chair, Stone reasoned. He also noticed that despite everyone's obvious wealth and love of the finer things in life, including food, they were all leanly built and muscular. He wondered if they did some type of martial arts training, either together or separate. He would have liked to be a part of that. That was the only thing missing in his repertoire.
"We hear that you like to take things from people while they're asleep in their beds," Traci said from across the room.
This quip brought smiles from all around and helped to relax those under Pup’s dark gaze, whose smile was widest with perfect teeth. His dark hair hung in cornrows, making his flat forehead tight, to his Versace shirt collar.
"Naw. I'm retired from that," Stone replied, impressed by some special quality in Traci. She seemed to be a woman used to getting what she wanted and wasn't afraid of anything.
"Might come in handy one day," Kabooby said.
"Yeah. Maybe you can get into the Metropolitan Museum of Art for me. They have a thirteen carat blue diamond on display that I wouldn't mind having," Traci said.
She seemed to be the one who pushed the edges of decorum for Brock. He observed Stone casually, a wry grin on his face with his wife's antics.
Stone grinned easily. "That ain't me. I'm that guy with the duct tape and handcuffs," he replied, enjoying her wicked grin.
"Well, handcuffs are always good." With this she turned to Brock, whose eyes never left Stone.
"So how you like retirement?" Brock wanted to know. It was the first time he’d spoken.
Stone splayed his open palms over his lap. "Can't complain."
"What you do with your time?" he asked.
The turtle-neck sweater seemed odd since it was so hot outside. Stone imagined that maybe Brock was hiding some tell-tale tattoo on his neck.
"This morning I dropped my niece of at school. And yesterday morning I washed my cars." Stone grinned with this as did Brock James. The details of Stone's life peaked Pup’s attention, who'd been listening silently,
"What kind of rides you got? Any old school?" Pup asked, his smile disarming. Stone was sure that this man was capable of maiming. He wondered what his particular expertise was.
Stone didn't like to brag. He regretted mentioning that he had several cars and was aware of Isiko’s steady appraisal of him, the man who’d only recently accepted him into the family.
"Yeah. I got a sixty-nine Camaro with a 454 on the floor. And a couple of luxury rides, but don't nothing come close to that Aston Martin DB8 outside." With Stone’s statement Pup looked to Kabooby, who smiled with some measure of pride.
"Insurance is killing me," Kabooby said in his gruff, southern twang.
The room chuckled softly as Isiko rose and walked to the front of the office and stood next to Kabooby behind the desk. He placed his palm on Kabooby’s shoulder.
“We have an announcement to make," Isiko said in a voice that was proper, though laced with some street element.
Stone remembered Milo telling him the BRU Capo's story. Isiko was in prison for 10 years and wrote a best selling book. He then started the BRU Capo clothing line.
"He's getting married," Kabooby said with a sly grin.
Isiko moved away from Kabooby and leaned on the desk. He was looking at Pup. We're consolidating our companies into BRU Capo Enterprises and will be traded on the New York Stock Exchange."
Stone didn't know what to feel. He knew this was huge, but he had no idea that the BRU family was this huge.
"So, after Friday's situation at Haitian Jack's we’ll be having a meeting to discuss the family finances and get everyone's input on the direction we're going." Isiko looked to Stone. "Stone will have new identification for Brock and Traci… When?"
“I'll know something definite by Friday," Stone replied, feeling real official and a little intimidated at how things were working so fast.
"That will work," Isiko continued, turning his attention to Brock. "Brock will be operating from the Atlanta Haitian Jack's. We’ll move our main office there. That's where I'll be spending most of my time."
"New York getting too cold for you?" Traci asked with a slight grin.
"Ever since you came through," he replied. Brock clapped and gave out a loud hoot.
Pup made it sound as if he were freezing, prompting Traci to point her finger at him and shoot as if there was a gun in her hand. Pup caught the fake bullet and threw it into his mouth, chewing on it until Traci called him stupid.
Stone met Isiko's glance as the others
began to joke with one another as if they were innocent teenagers and not grown criminals turned corporate thugs.
Isiko gave Stone one thumb up, his lips pressed together to signal his approval of the young general. Stone wondered what made him so special to be around such people. He would have seen them In the street and never guess they operated at this level.
He thought of Keasha, knowing that he hadn't asked the right questions as to why she really recommended him to Brock James in the first place. But was he supposed to know that it was Brock who passed along the formal invitation to Isiko? Was it Isiko or Milo? Stone didn't know. Maybe it was only right that he didn't know. There was really no way of knowing who was in charge if not for common sense.
There certainly wasn't anything verbal said to give any indication of who made the decisions for any given situation. He realized that he could never say that it was Brock James who made his membership possible because he never personally talked to him. Today was his first time meeting him. And he got the distinct feeling that nothing of what happened before this day would be discussed or confirmed. This was fine by Stone. What a cool group of friends to have.
Chapter Six
Stone knew that Coretta was feeling some kind of way. There was no getting around how he lived his life. There was this last thing to do before he could truly settle down. Finding out who killed Candi was very important to him and he wished that Coretta could understand this.
It was no small comfort to her that he spent most of the evening with her. They'd lay in the room cuddled on the bed. When he began to stir, signaling his departure, she renewed her argument about him staying out late at night and being associated with strange women. She stopped just short of accusing him of having an affair.
Stone was losing the will to placate Coretta's insecurities. She questioned why he was going to an after-hours lounge and what did he expect to find there? How was that going to help find Candi's killer? And what exactly is his relationship to Misty? Doesn't she live in your apartment building?
Stone stopped answering her questions when it became apparent that no answer was a good enough answer. All she wanted from him was to drop his hood detective ambitions and focus his attention on her.