Games Divas Play (A Diva Mystery Novel)

by Angela Burt-Murray

  I clung to his jacket, hot tears streaming down my face as I tried to catch my breath.

  “Oh my God, Nia . . . ,” he whispered in my ear as he stroked my hair. “If that man had killed you, I don’t know what I would have done. Could you see who it was?”

  I tried to choke out the words.

  “What did you say, Nia?” Terrence said as he leaned down to hear my hoarse whisper.

  “Diablo,” I said, reaching up to touch the side of Terrence’s neck. “Tattoo.”

  The man who had attacked me, and had killed Sean, had a black tattoo of a devil on his neck, the sign of Diablo Negro.

  CHAPTER 24

  Laila

  Thank God for invisible tape, I thought, as the stylist placed the clear strips along my breasts so that the red-crystal-encrusted Zac Posen bustier would stay up. The matching satin micro miniskirt had a plume of netting down the back like a peacock’s train, which skimmed the back of my neon blue Jimmy Choo ankle-wrap sandals. As I pirouetted in front of the mirror, I noticed that my makeup artist had been successful in reducing the puffiness and splotchy redness on my face from my tears.

  After being humiliated at my own party by Nia Bullock, I had come back to my room in tears. No one had ever gotten the best of me like that. I hadn’t even been able to connect with Miki, so I could only imagine what her reaction was to the magazine cover. Would she cancel my show? Would everything I had worked so hard for be lost?

  My attempts to reach Kareem had also gone unanswered, so Darryl said it was time for us to take matters into our own hands. He reached out to DJ Williams, the league’s new bad boy who had a reputation for fighting both on and off the court, making it rain hundred-dollar bills in the strip club he owned in his native Atlanta and being suspended for spitting on a fan who had booed him during a game. Darryl had done business with him in the past, and he asked DJ if he wanted to go to a party with me. Of course, DJ had jumped at the chance and told Darryl he was down for whatever. I agreed with Darryl that DJ would be the perfect escort for this evening’s grand finale.

  “Looking good, girl,” Darryl said as he leaned against the doorway to the bathroom while I looked into the mirror and fluffed up my long curls.

  “And you know this, man,” I said, turning to pop my lip gloss into my black Chanel clutch. “Let’s do this.”

  As we made our way into the living room, Tanya Peoples and the rest of the Glam Network camera crew began to assemble to head out with us. I guessed that if Miki was intent on canceling my show due to yesterday’s events, she would have told the camera crew to stop filming. Since they were there, it was my duty to give them some footage they would never forget.

  DJ’s paws were all over me. I scooted away as far as I could in the stretch Lincoln Navigator limousine, inching closer to the door. Darryl, who sat across from me, was sandwiched between four of DJ’s boys and the Glam Network cameraman and was typing away on his iPhone, so he didn’t see me signaling for help. With the cabin of the truck smelling like reefer and the Hennessy flowing, DJ was clearly in the mood to get acquainted. And seeing as how he was a professional athlete making serious paper, he didn’t have much experience these days with being turned down. As far as he was concerned, everyone was available to him.

  “What’s good, Ma?” DJ asked, breath hot in my ear as he put his beefy arm around me and tried to pull me closer to his rock-hard six-foot-ten frame. He was young with only two years in the league, but the TMZ poster boy was determined to make a name for himself. Luckily, tonight he had forgone his eponymous denim line and put on an actual black suit like a grown-ass man. A web of interlocking tattoos of crosses, vines, and guns snaked down his neck into the collar of his red shirt and across his broad light-brown chest. Unfortunately, it was too late for me to change when I saw that we were color coordinated, looking like we were going to some ghetto-ass prom. DJ’s massive thigh pressed into mine as his hand grazed the edge of my short red skirt. He wore dark sunglasses, but I could tell that his eyes were undressing what he thought was his girl for the night. I didn’t want to have to check this fool for real because I needed him tonight, but he was definitely not getting any of this kitty kat tonight or ever.

  “Now, DJ,” I purred in an ear that had a five-carat stud attached to the lobe and then stroked his bald head, “relax, baby. We’ve got all night.” I made sure to smile for the camera filming us as we rode to the party, and I carefully tugged at the short hemline of my skirt to pull it down.

  “I know, but for real, girl, you got a brother trippin’ looking all delicious. Let’s skip this party shit and go back to my hotel.” He licked his lips and looked at me over the tops of his glasses.

  “Save something for later,” I said, pressing a bloodred nail on his full lips. I had to pull it back quickly when I saw him open his mouth so that his tongue could lick me. “This is a very special evening, baby. And I think you’re really going to enjoy yourself. I guarantee.”

  “All I need to enjoy myself is your fine ass naked in my bed, for real,” DJ said, his lips nibbling along my neck as he tried to slip a hand between my thighs. “For real, let’s go. I want you for real.”

  “I know you do, baby,” I said, crossing my legs to block the probing fingers that wanted to get to the honeypot and give his boys a freaky little show. “But I have a surprise for you that will make you want me even more. Trust me.” I stared into his eyes, pressed my breast into his chest, and licked my lips to tease him as the Navigator came to a stop in front of the Biltmore Estate. A quick glance at my watch showed it was just past midnight.

  Showtime.

  I climbed carefully out of the truck so as not to give DJ’s boys a flash of the goodies and stood next to DJ whose large hand slid down my back and rested on my ass. I knew it would be pointless to move it at this point, but the camera was filming.

  “Yo, where we at?” DJ asked, giving my cheek a squeeze, while the production assistant put on his microphone pack. When Darryl had told DJ that the network would be filming our little date, he had been more than up for getting some screen time, because in his mind any press was good press.

  “Just a party we were invited to,” I lied as another production assistant slipped the cold microphone pack down the back of my bustier and then clipped the small black mic on the front of one of the crystals. I reached back to fluff up the plume netting on the back of my skirt. DJ looked back to enjoy the view as well.

  “All right now, you know I can’t wait to get up under that skirt tonight,” he said, adjusting the front of his pants. “You got me ready to take off right now.”

  “I know you can’t,” I said, trying not to laugh at him. Poor baby, he actually thought he was getting some of this tonight.

  Tanya led us, along with DJ’s requisite entourage, into the building’s lobby.

  The building, which had once been a luxury hotel, had been recently reopened as an event space. Tonight the grand marble and glass foyer was festooned with a purple and green Mardi Gras theme. With the evening’s event in full swing, we could make out the sounds of music and laughter coming from behind the closed ballroom doors. The check-in table was empty. A couple, dressed in black or white as the invitation had requested, had on brightly decorated masks and headed back into the ballroom. As the door opened, we could hear John Legend playing the piano and singing.

  A large banner hung from the ceiling announcing tonight’s event. The cameraman zoomed in on the logo as DJ read the words.

  “ ‘Welcome to the Marcus and Vanessa King Midnight Mardi Gras Gala. A fund-raiser for Saint Mary’s Children’s Hospital.’ ”

  I managed to refrain from telling DJ “Good job” for reading so well as I saw two Biltmore security guards in black pants and white shirts heading over to us. Darryl cut them off, and with his back to the view of the cameras, took a large stack of cash from his pocket. Peeling off a couple of hundreds, he pressed
a few folded bills into both of their hands. Suddenly, the guards realized they were due for a break.

  “Yo, son, this is Marcus’s joint?” DJ asked me.

  “Yes,” I said in a clipped tone but trying to smile. “Is that a problem?”

  “It ain’t no problem for me. For real, though. But it might be a problem for King,” DJ snorted as he gave his boys some dap. DJ was an ideal escort for this evening because he and Marcus got into it on the court two weeks ago when DJ got ejected from the game for a flagrant foul on Marcus. The league had suspended him for three games, which included playing in the All-Star game. Ever since, he’d been barking at Marcus on Twitter, but Marcus, of course, hadn’t responded. Marcus was the king of the league and didn’t have to address this kid. Ordinarily I wouldn’t have addressed this kid, either, but I knew seeing me with DJ would get under Marcus’s skin. It probably wouldn’t help relations between the two players that Marcus had won the All-Star MVP title for the second year in a row.

  I slipped on my silver crystal-studded mask. When the producer tried to hand DJ a black one, he pushed it away.

  “I ain’t wearing that bullshit. Let that muthafucka see my pretty face.”

  Whatever, I thought. You’re cute and all, but no one will be looking at you anyway.

  John Legend was wrapping up his set when we walked into the darkened ballroom and those in the audience were on their feet clapping. Huge masks, flowers, and beads decorated the large space, and the hundred tables were laced with Mardi Gras beads and flowers. As we walked down the center aisle of the room, I could feel the hot stares of people as they saw me in my bright red dress in clear violation of the evening’s dress code. There were murmurs and gasps as people began to recognize me. I could see out of the corner of my eye that some of the event’s organizers were scurrying around in the corner, trying to figure out what to do.

  An efficient-looking woman in a black suit and glasses rushed up to us, waving her clipboard in my face.

  “I’m sorry, but you all have to leave,” she said, trying to block our path. The band on the stage played as John Legend made his way offstage while the audience continued to applaud. I pointed at my ear and pretended I couldn’t hear her over the music and the crowd, and I pushed past her with one camera in front of us and one behind us. The producer scurried ahead and began to scout around for two seats at the front of the room as if we were being escorted to our assigned seats. Brilliant.

  I could see that DJ had his eyes fixed on a table at the front of the room. The hosts for the evenings had their backs to the room as they applauded John Legend’s performance, so they didn’t see us making our way down the aisle. Marcus wore a black custom-fit tuxedo with a black shirt and bow tie, and Vanessa, the lady of the evening until I arrived, of course, had on a long strapless red sequined gown with her black hair blown out sleek and straight with a center part. Marcus put an arm around his wife’s waist and drew her close to him as he leaned down and kissed the top of her head, and I nearly stumbled on the carpet as my stomach tightened at the sight.

  That was my man. And that should be our baby we were celebrating. She had ruined everything we had. He didn’t love her. I knew he didn’t love her. He couldn’t. He loved me and we were supposed to be together. If it weren’t for that baby, he wouldn’t even be trying to reconcile with his wife. I knew that, and she knew that, too. It would be a PR disaster for Marcus to leave his pregnant wife for me, but I had to let him know that I’d wait for him. No matter how long it took.

  More guests in the room began to turn and look at us as the applause died down and the sound of shocked chatter filled the room. As Marcus and Vanessa turned to take their seats, the frazzled woman in the black suit scurried over to their table and whispered something in Vanessa’s ear. That was when she looked up and saw me. I saw her eyes narrow through her black velvet and diamond-studded mask.

  Bring it on, bitch.

  DJ’s boys were laughing loudly as they walked behind us. There were only two seats at the table the producer identified, so they would have to stand. As we got closer to the table, Marcus and Vanessa rushed over, both of their expressions tight with controlled rage. DJ palmed my ass and pulled me closer as he removed his shades and tucked them into the breast pocket of his jacket.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Marcus hissed. The Glam Network cameras jockeyed for position as they encircled us. DJ’s boys filled in the gaps between the camera and sound techs, locking the four of us inside the tense circle just a few feet away from each other. Each of us, I imagined, wanted to rip the other apart. As I sized up Vanessa through my mask, my gaze unconsciously raked down her body to her stomach. Reflexively she put her left hand with her wedding ring over the small roundness barely visible in the sequined dress. But I saw the bump in her dress, and she knew it. I looked back up at her eyes, which were flashing with anger and something else—triumph.

  “Ease up, man. We just wanted to congratulate you on your MVP,” DJ said sarcastically.

  “Really?” Marcus said, looking DJ up and down. “Maybe next year you’ll get to play and you’ll have a shot. But in the meantime, I asked what the hell are you doing here?”

  “Hello, Marcus,” I said, drawing my lover’s name out like a silken caress and refusing to acknowledge Vanessa. “So good to see you again. Thanks for the invitation.”

  “Laila, you have to leave. I don’t want you here,” Marcus said. His words cut into my heart, but I knew they were just for Vanessa’s benefit. What else could he say?

  “I’m sure you don’t mean that, Marcus,” I said. I wanted to reach out and touch him and let him know that I forgave him for what he said yesterday. I knew he just said those things because of Vanessa being pregnant. He really didn’t want to be with her; he wanted to be with me. I fingered the large pear-shaped diamond pendant hanging around my neck that Marcus had given me for my birthday. I knew he remembered the necklace.

  “You must leave now,” Vanessa said through pinched lips, refusing to be ignored at her own event by her husband’s former mistress. Her hands were now clutched in the folds of the heavy sequined fabric of her long dress. Her friend Nia, dressed in a one-shoulder black gown, appeared at her side and whispered in her ear, trying to pull her away.

  “Really, Vanessa?” I said haughtily. “And who’s going to make us leave?”

  I couldn’t stand to look at her or Nia. I hated them both. I couldn’t stand the thought that Vanessa was carrying Marcus’s child. That should be our baby. I ignored her, flipping my hair back over my shoulder, and then I turned to DJ.

  Vanessa and Nia turned to look for the event’s organizer who stood outside the circle, whispering desperately into a walkie-talkie to call up security. Fortunately, Darryl had taken care of that by giving the two guards in the lobby enough to share with the other Biltmore rent-a-cops. What I didn’t see was Marcus’s private security detail that Darryl wouldn’t have been able to convince to take an extended break. Maybe they were in the back, assisting with security for John Legend.

  “Don’t be mad at me, baby. We just wanted to support your event,” I said, stroking DJ’s arm and turning my attention back to Marcus. I saw Vanessa’s body tense when I called her husband “baby” right in front of her. But she needed to learn even if it was the hard way. Marcus was my baby. Not hers. They were the past, and I was going to be his future, baby or no baby.

  If I could just get him to look at me. His steely gaze was locked on DJ just like when they were on the court. But I needed Marcus to look into my eyes so that he could see that I still loved him. I still wanted him just as much as he wanted me. He had to look at me and see that I could wait. I could wait for Vanessa to have the baby, and then we could go back to the way things were. I needed to break through the arctic chill I saw in his eyes. He refused to look at me with Vanessa standing right next to him.

  But like crazy-ass Glenn Close said
in Fatal Attraction, I wasn’t going to be ignored.

  “DJ, didn’t you say you wanted to make a donation to Marcus’s little charity?” I said. I was hoping this young boy was bright enough to pick up on my cue. He hesitated for just a moment, looked at me quizzically, and then snapped his fingers twice at one of his boys who immediately produced a large ball of cash and handed it to him.

  “Yeah, Laila, baby,” DJ said, his lips curled into a sardonic twist as he unfolded the thick ball of cash his boy handed to him. “You’re right, I wanted to give something for the kids.” And with that, just like he and his boys liked to do in the strip club, DJ began to flick the bills in a rolling motion into the air, making it rain hundred-dollar bills down on Marcus and Vanessa. DJ’s boys erupted into howls of deep laughter.

  “Yo, son, you gon’ make him dance for that shit,” one of DJ’s boys quipped as he doubled over and guffawed loudly.

  “Nah, man, but maybe his little wifey wants to shake that ass for some of daddy’s cash,” DJ said as he looked Vanessa up and down, daring Marcus to do something. The rain of money continued to fall arrogantly down onto the couple as if in slow motion.

  Suddenly Marcus snapped and lunged at DJ, throwing a punch that landed right on his nose. Blood gushed out of his nose, and the ballroom erupted in screams and shouts as the sounds of chairs being overturned and glass breaking filled the air. DJ wiped the blood from his face, spit onto the ballroom floor, and then drew back and punched Marcus. Then the two men were locked with their arms swinging, trying to land blows. The Glam Network camera crew was jostled back, and they tried to regain their footing to continue shooting. As DJ’s boys prepared to jump in, some of Marcus’s teammates jumped up from their tables and rushed over to help.

  Nia and the party organizer tried to extricate Vanessa from the growing swarm of people as she screamed for Marcus to stop fighting. A wall of black-suited bodies bumped into me, knocking me onto the carpeted floor of the ballroom. As I quickly got up on my knees to avoid being trampled by the growing crowd of fighting men, I saw Nia trying to lead a tearful, screaming Vanessa away from the crowd.