Sexy Little Liar

by Noire

  “When are they gonna do that?” Bunni asked.

  Dane shrugged. “When they get good and fuckin’ ready. I gotta go before a disciplinary board. They’ll examine my case and decide if they’re gonna let me back in my classes or kick me out and send everything over to the prosecutor’s office. It’s all up to them.”

  “Can’t you get one of your father’s lawyers to make all that shit go away? I mean, damn. I thought all rich people had to do was flash a couple of dollars and pay somebody off when they got in trouble with the cops.”

  “Yeah,” Dane said and nodded. “Sometimes it works like that, but sometimes it don’t. My case is all fucked up because it went too far for too long. I got caught out there with the wrong dorm chicken and niggas got jealous and set me up. I couldn’t pay nobody off because I had already blown through all my money. The only thing I got going for me now is that trust fund. I need that safe to pop open real wide so I can get what’s minez and get on with the rest of my life. Word.”

  “I can see why you don’t wanna go to your moms and ask her for nothing, but you and Barron seem kinda close sometimes. You can’t talk him into hooking you up with a couple of ends?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t trust B like that. If I showed him this brick I’m carrying around he might snatch it and bust me in the grill with it. I can’t take no chances on him. He could post me up in front of the board and make me fight for my share of the trust fund too, and if somebody even whispered the words sexual assault they’d cut me off right at the nuts. I love Bump and all, but the boy is strange. My pops taught him how to squeeze the hell out of a dime, and when it comes to taking care of the family cash, he’s got his foot on every penny.”

  Right now Barron had his eyes on the time as he checked his six-thousand-dollar Cartier Ballon Bleu and sped toward the local frat house. Him and his boy Animal Bates had gone to college together, and a bunch of his Omega brothers and dorm rats were throwing Animal a bash to celebrate his birthday.

  Barron had agreed to show his face for a few minutes, but he damn sure wasn’t in the partying mood. The board was meeting in just a few days and he was seriously on edge. Never before in the history of Dominion Oil had a single vote been the deciding factor on such an important financial decision. Barron had been wheeling and dealing and sweating the board members twenty-four-seven, and it was looking like everything was going to work out just the way he wanted it to.

  He’d gotten a call from one of the oldest board members, who just happened to be one of Viceroy’s closest friends. He said he was pretty close to getting the other members to agree to delay the board’s vote for seven days, but he needed the request in writing. Barron had damn near jumped up and down because that meant the DNA labs would have a chance to get their reports generated, and then everybody would find out that con-mami Mink, with her fine sexy ass was a fraud and that Dy-Nasty, even though she probably was his long-lost sister Sable, was a stank, foul, guttersnipe criminal.

  Once the DNA results were in all Barron had to do was produce those results at the board meeting and let Dy-Nasty cast her vote with his team. Twenty-four hours later he would be instated as the new CEO of Dominion Oil, and then BOOM! He’d smizzack the board with a copy of Dy-Nasty’s arrest record that stripped her naked and showed her in all her corrupted glory, and Little Miss Hoodrat would immediately be disqualified from the trust fund.

  Barron was whistling as he pulled his bone-white Maybach into a parking space in front of the frat house. From the outside the place looked like a dump. Them niggas was probably still wildin’ and cutting up like they were back in college. He looked around at the other parked cars and wished he had picked something else to drive. His shit would probably be sitting up on four milk crates when he came back out.

  The inside of the small, one-story house looked a lot better than the outside, and Barron started tossing back shots as soon as he got with Animal and his crew. A lot of dorm chicks had been on his dick back in college, but there was this one girl who had hated his ass and used to diss him on the regular. Epiphany James. She was there, at the party, and with her slim waist, power-butt, and long fine legs, she was even sexier than she had been in college.

  But Epiphany was one of them chicks who was all cultural and shit. She wore her hair in a wild Afro and talked all that Ungawa Black Power ethnic talk, and just the sight of Barron, a star football player with his skinny white cheerleader girlfriend on his arm, used to piss her off.

  “Long time no see.” Barron dropped his voice into Barry White land as he rolled up on Epiphany. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “Barron,” she said and nodded. Her slanted cat eyes and smooth, cocoa-colored skin sent heat flashing through his groin. “Yeah, long time no see.”

  Barron noticed she didn’t say it was good to see him too, but he hadn’t really expected her to. Ever since Carla had left him he’d been paying closer attention to beautiful black chicks like Epiphany, and he had Pilar to thank for that. White girls didn’t even do nothing for him no more.

  Barron made the rounds at the party and went in the huddle with a few older Ques and their girlfriends. He drank like a fish and smoked a little weed too, but when them niggas started talking about poppin’ E and smoking meth and all that kinda bullshit he backed off and drew the line.

  “Look at this fool,” his boy Dopeman, a showboating wanna-be Omega bitched. “This nigga’s asshole is still tight as hell!”

  Bruhs laughed and Barron tried to play it off. Dopeman wasn’t frat, but he had been around for a real long time, and all the young come-up bruhs idolized his ass.

  “Yo, why you biting all on my nuts, Mr. Dopeman? Don’t worry about what I do, nigga! Just do you!”

  Barron chilled with the homeys for a few more minutes so it wouldn’t look like Dopeman was running him off, and then he dipped outta the huddle and went across the room and mingled with some of his old honeys. A butt-ugly chick named Maleeka Jones was hanging around with a bunch of other friends of theirs, and one of the girls had brought some linebacker-looking transvestite with her. The dude’s name was Ben, and he was chewing gum and flapping off at the mouth like he was a girl for real. All that weed had Barron cracking the fuck up at the sight of such a big dude posted up on the couch in a halter and heels, with his thick legs crossed at the knees.

  “Here, nigga!” Dopeman came up behind Barron and passed him a drink over his shoulder. “What you run out for? We was just about to break out the special shit. Don’t say I never gave your ass nothing, dig?”

  Surrounded by a bunch of giggling women, Barron tossed his drink back real quick and took a few hits off the blueberry sticky that was being passed around. Maleeka came over and sat up under him, and as he listened to her run her mouth he tried to remember why he had never hit that shit in college. Her titties were nice and round, and she had some pretty legs on her that would feel real good wrapped around his waist.

  But she’s ugly, Barron thought as Maleeka giggled and put her tiny hand on his thigh. This bitch is ugly, he thought again, and that was the last damn thing he thought too.

  Giggles.

  “Is he out?”

  “Yep, his ass is gone! Slumped.”

  “What the hell did you give him, D?”

  “I gave that nigga what he needed! Something to loosen his tight ass up!”

  “Yeah, he’s still the same old Barron. Stiff as hell. Always acting like he’s better than everybody else.”

  “His family always did have money.”

  “Having money and having fun is two different things.”

  “Ay, we oughtta have some fun with his ass!”

  Laughter.

  “Yeah, let’s fuck with this fool. Put some lipstick on him. Some mascara too.”

  “Ohhh, wait! Let’s shave off his eyebrows! Here!”

  Rummaging in the purse.

  “Use my razor.”

  “Hold up, I know what we can do! Switch clothes with him, Ben! Let’s put h
im in your skirt and a push-up bra!”

  “Uh, hell no! Do you know how much I paid for this skirt?”

  “Not as much as this nigga got in his wallet! Switch clothes with him, fool! Once you put on his pants whatever you find in the pockets is yours.”

  “Hold up, take some pictures, girl. This dude looks hilarious!”

  “Yeah, take some pictures! Wait! Put your dick in his mouth first, Ben! Not all the way in, stupid! Just slap the head on his lips. Yeah.”

  Giggles.

  “Just like that. Good. Now take the pictures.”

  Flash. Flash. Flash. Flash. Flash.

  “Yo, nigga! Make sure you hit me with them joints so I can post them on Facebook!”

  Barron was cruising. On a cloud far up in the sky. His bladder was full and he had to pee. Struggling to his feet, he staggered across the room and pulled open the door. The cool night breeze washed over his face as he leaned against a parked car and pissed all over the tire.

  With his dick still hanging out, he opened the car door and climbed behind the wheel. He felt like he was inside a pinball machine full of swiping silver gates. Lights flashing, bells ringing. Just a’ bouncing offa shit.

  His vision blurred and he lurched hard in his seat. He hit a pinball gate. People screamed, others cheered. He was beating the shit out of the game, and he moved faster and faster through the colorful maze. Suddenly it was dark and he had to pee again. With the engine still running he flung open the car door and stepped out, then turned around and pissed directly on his front seat.

  He didn’t even put his meat away. Instead, a doorway loomed ahead and he made his way to it. He fumbled with the latch until it opened. Inside, he was feeling almost fine for a moment, but then he crashed into a large potted plant, stumbled to his right, and passed out again as the sofa broke his fall.

  Selah woke up out of a deep sleep. She’d been tossing and turning with her body burning up. She’d been dreaming about her missing ring and how she had lost it. Her sheets were sweaty and she couldn’t go back to sleep. Leaving her suite, she padded through the expansive mansion in the darkness. She knew every inch of this house because it had been specially built and designed just for her.

  Downstairs, she entered the kitchen and turned on the lights. Pushing a button on the coffeepot she set it to brew, and then she stared out the back window and waited for it to be ready. It was almost dawn and the sun was trying to peek out from the early-morning clouds. Someone had left a light on in the pool house, and a child’s rubber raft was still floating in the large swimming pool.

  Selah thought about the two girls who were sleeping upstairs, both claiming to be Sable. One of them was surely lying, and the pain of that lie had stirred up some long-dead emotions that she had tried to bury a long time ago. But the past never stayed buried.

  She thought about her ring again, and then about her missing daughter.

  She pictured the flash of guilt on her baby sister’s face as Viceroy’s pearl-colored cum dripped from her lips.

  It didn’t mean anything. I swear. I was just helping him, that’s all. He needed it. He needed it.

  Selah sighed and shook her head. It was all such a dizzying loop. If she hadn’t gone to his job that day she wouldn’t have caught her husband mouth-fucking her sister. And if she hadn’t caught Viceroy with her sister, she wouldn’t have lost Sable. And if she hadn’t lost Sable, then she wouldn’t have lost her ring. And if she hadn’t lost her ring, she wouldn’t be driving herself to Dallas at noon on Wednesday to see the funny-looking man who had given her the very best dick she had ever had in her life.

  It was funny the way so many things got tied together in life. How no action was really independent of the next one. Selah watched the sky as she waited for the coffeepot to give her its signal, but when a sound finally came it didn’t come from the kitchen, it came from the front door.

  Frowning, she glanced at the clock. Five ten a.m. The doorbell rang again, and gathering her bathrobe tighter, she headed across the house to answer it.

  “Yes?” she called out nervously. She clicked on the parlor lights and looked outside. A police car was in her driveway with its flashing red and blue strobe lights on.

  “Can I help you?” she asked as she opened the door.

  Two uniformed policemen stood there.

  “We’re sorry to bother you at this hour, Mrs. Dominion, but we need to speak to your son, Barron. Is he at home?”

  “Why, yes,” Selah answered. She peered past them. “His car is here so he must be upstairs in his suite. What’s the problem?”

  “There’s been an accident, ma’am,” the older officer informed her. “And we need to speak to Barron. May we come in?”

  “Of course,” Selah said as she stepped back to let them enter. “But I’m telling you, Barron is upstairs,” she said as she closed the door and turned around. “He’s upstairs aslee—” The word got stuck in her throat as her and the two officers stared at the thing that was stretched out cold on the sofa, a rose-colored miniskirt hiked up his thighs and his business hanging down low on his leg. One hand was flung over the top of the couch, and the other hand was resting on his stomach. Bright lipstick circled his lips like somebody had colored it on a clown. His eyebrows had been shaved off and dramatically drawn on and arched with a pencil, his cheeks were colored in deep red rouge, and the prettiest shades of eye shadow had been blended in above his lids.

  “Barron!” Selah shrieked and ran to her son. She tossed a pillow over his crotch and slapped him on his painted-up cheeks. “Barron! What happened, baby? Wake up, son. Tell me what the hell happened?”

  Barron opened his eyes and looked around slowly. He blinked a few times like he was trying to focus.

  “What in the world happened to you?” Selah wailed. “Baby what is going on?”

  Barron licked his lips. They felt crusty and sore. He opened his mouth to answer his mother, but when it became obvious that he couldn’t speak, one of the police officers moved forward and spoke for him instead.

  “Mr. Dominion, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say, can and will be used against you in a court of law . . .”

  CHAPTER 25

  Barron spent seven whole hours wearing a rose miniskirt in a downtown Dallas bullpen before one of his lawyer friends came to get him out. By then he had slept his drugged-up high off and was ready to kill some fuckin’ body.

  “Here you go,” said Jeff Rivera, a Hispanic dude he’d gone to law school with as he passed Barron a clean handkerchief. As with every DUI and suspected hit-and-run case, those fools at the courthouse had suspended his driver’s license so Jeff was giving him a ride home. “Try to clean up a little bit before we get there. You got mascara all over your nose, man.”

  Barron snatched the cloth and dry-scrubbed his face until it burned. Whoever had painted him up had done a damn good job and he didn’t even wanna think about what his mug shot looked like.

  But the embarrassment he was feeling right now wasn’t shit compared to what the public humiliation was gonna be when this drama got out, and it was gonna take some deep cash and an entire public relations cleanup team to make this kind of shit stain go away.

  Jeff had brought Barron some clothes to ride home in, and the thought that his moms had seen him wearing makeup and a bra straight fucked up his heart. He was gonna have a lot of explaining to do, and while he was busy feeling sorry for himself, there was a ten-year-old little Mexican boy sitting up in the hospital with a broken ankle and it was all Barron’s fault.

  “So that kid I hit is gonna be okay, right?” Barron cut his eyes at Jeff and asked. “It was just his foot, right? The rest of him is cool, huh?”

  Jeff nodded. “Oh, yeah. He’s gonna be good. He’s a little day laborer. He was crossing the street with his father to catch a job when you hit him. Yeah, you fucked up his ankle, but it coulda been a whole lot worse, you know? I already arranged to pay his hospital bill, and later on today I’m gonna go see his
father and offer him a few dollars to compensate for the boy’s lost wages. Don’t worry. As long as we can keep this out of the media then everything should be okay.”

  Barron squeezed his eyes shut tight. He had never been in trouble a day in his life, and he wasn’t sure if anything would ever be okay again. He had no memory of hitting the boy, or of crashing into any of the three parked cars the cops claimed he had smashed up either. All he remembered was getting nice at a party, and then driving through a fucking video game. It was one of those pinball machines with bumpers and bells. He was riding in the big silver ball, and people had been screaming and cheering as he bounced off the swinging gates. Everything else was a big long blur . . .

  He glanced out the window as the car sped toward the Dominion Estate, where all kinds of problems were waiting for him. Fallon, Mink, Dy-Nasty, Pilar. His shit was getting raggedy. It was falling apart. He was trying to do too much, and he couldn’t have gotten arrested at a worse time.

  Damn! Barron slammed his hand down hard on Jeff’s dashboard. Damn! Damn! Damn!

  Selah was highly pissed off as she walked out of the Omni Hotel in downtown Dallas the next afternoon, which was also happened to be the headquarters of a prestigious oil firm called Ruddman Energy. Her stride was quick as she crossed the large lobby, and dressed in a hip-hugging Dolce & Gabbana dress she looked a whole lot younger than forty-eight.

  She smoothed her hair back as she pushed through the revolving front doors and waved impatiently for the valet to bring her Mercedes around. She had driven herself into the city, and it had been a big waste of time because the old-ass fool she came to see was still playing childish games.

  “Selah! Selah!”

  She heard him calling her, but she damn sure wasn’t about to answer him. This fool had brought out the New Yorker in her, and no matter what had gone down between them in the past, she wasn’t the same woman she was back then, and she wasn’t burning on fire for vengeance anymore either.