by Reana Malori
Queen of Spades
The Player’s Club
Reana Malori
THE PLAYER’S CLUB: QUEEN OF SPADES
Copyright © 2018 Reana Malori
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. Due to copyright laws, you cannot trade, sell or give any ebooks away.
Thank you to my wonderful readers. You’ve been on this journey with me since day one and I cannot express enough how much I appreciate you.
PROLOGUE
“So, we’re really going to do this?” Terra looked a touch scared when she asked. Given this was her brainchild, it was a cute reaction.
“You damn straight we’re doing this,” Terra moved to Dredd’s side, throwing her arms around her. “We got this.”
The four women had talked about opening their own casino since freshman year at Hampton University and hadn’t wavered. Most people thought they were crazy, which was more or less true, but this was a dream they weren’t letting go. When Milley had approached Dredd offering to sell the beachfront casino hotel, they’d jumped at the chance.
Only this was not the place Milley had shown them pictures and specs for. This joint was run-down and needed a hell of a lot of work, and Milley was long gone with their two-point-five million dollars.
Everything they had in the world.
Instead of finding Milley and spit-roasting her sorry ass after they beat their money out of her, they went to work. They had the deed on a choice piece of beachfront property right on the Gulf of Mexico. This damn place was about to be the hottest thing jumping on the Gulf Coast, so help them God.
Together, they were unstoppable and unbeatable, with a little more than a touch of criminality sprinkled in. They hustled the money to fix up the place, putting their lives on hold until they reached their goal.
As a result, they had the funds to not only fix their dream business but to make it as posh as they wanted.
Also, Dredd was officially banned from all riverboat casinos up and down the Mississippi. And Terra was definitely not welcome anywhere near Wall Street. It was best if Emmaline stayed far away from Nevada…well, the west in general. And Dylan…well, Dylan went down to South Florida and came back with stacks; it just wasn’t discussed beyond that. Didn’t matter—they had their funds, they had the will, now they were gonna do the damn thing.
“According to my calculations…” Emmaline pulled out her phone to punch in some numbers on the calculator, “We can refurbish completely and still have a decent opening operating budget, thanks to Dredd and Dylan. But we might need a healthy cash injection if we run into unforeseen problems the inspectors didn’t catch.”
“If we need more, Dylan and I will handle it,” Dredd stated with her custom ‘so-let-it-be-written-did-you-hear-what-I-said’ voice.
“Damn straight.” Dylan nodded, momentarily forgetting she was in four-inch heels as she tried to stomp over to Dredd’s side. Luckily, Terra had expected her friend’s move and caught her by the arm, steadying her as she walked over to Dredd this time, then whirled around to face the other two women. “You nerds need to concentrate on the organizational structure and finance. I’m going to find the best casino security contractor and then steal their ideas.”
Anyone overhearing might’ve thought she was going to pick their brains for ideas. But the other three women knew all too well, Dylan was going to steal security plans, then come up with a hybrid comprised of a few of the best ideas. That was just who she was.
“I’m going with her,” Dredd said, casually caressing the concealed weapon she always kept on her person. It could be a knife, could be a gun, it could even be throwing stars. One never knew.
“I’m going to get started looking for contractors.” Terra nodded, then looked at Emmaline. “Emma, can you—”
Terra stopped midsentence.
Emmaline was already walking toward the casino, steadily punching numbers into her phone’s calculator. They all knew from experience nothing they said to her would be heard; she was lost in a sea of numbers and wouldn’t come back until she had whatever figures she was searching for.
Emma was a bona fide genius and had the requests from Mensa International asking her to join their ranks to prove it. Her friends loved her and accepted her as she was, but they all knew Emma was on a different level. They didn’t care how smart she was, she was part of their clique. Terra laughed at Emma’s use of a machine to run numbers. It wasn’t needed. The only reason Emma was probably using a calculator was that they were still amazed at how fast her brain worked and would occasionally stare at her in awe. Honestly, it freaked them all out how she could do the most complicated math in her head in a matter of seconds.
That shit just wasn’t natural.
“Looks like we all know what we need to do, then.” Terra sighed, shaking her head at the retreating Emmaline.
Milley would be dealt with later. As would anything or anyone else who tried to stop them.
“Let no bitch try to step to us,” Terra began their traditional parting words. A silly tradition they’d started when Dredd left school.
Okay, kicked out, but whatever.
“Let no motherfucker try us,” Emmaline yelled back at them.
“It is so freaky how she does that,” Dylan whispered under her breath, only to be elbowed by Dredd. “Let no penis ever come between us,” she spoke loudly, doing her part.
“And let nothing, or no one, ever try to tear us apart,” Dredd finished before all four said in unison: “I wish a motherfucker would!”
CHAPTER ONE
Loud music from the club made its way into her office. The sound was muffled, but Terra Dupree could still make out the rhythm. Her foot tapped along with the beat and her head bobbed as she was drawn into the hard-hitting bass pumping through the strategically placed speakers.
For a split second, she wanted to get up from her chair, shut down her laptop and go out and enjoy herself. She missed going out, clubbing, and having fun just for the hell of it.
When had she become so boring?
Sighing, she forced that thought out of her head. Looking over the papers spread on her desk, Terra sucked her teeth in disgust. Who knew investing in what she thought was a dream opportunity would turn out this way?
It was supposed to be the perfect purchase. At least that’s the way their old friend Milley St. James had presented it. A casino with an add-on hotel was going to be the ultimate success for her and her three best friends. They’d pulled together every penny they had—and some they didn’t—to buy this property. As soon as the papers were signed, and the money was transferred, that bitch Milley had disappeared.
Normally, she wouldn’t have cared where the hell Milley ran off to, but the property had turned out to be a fucking lemon. It was a money pit.
They’d been duped. She and her three best friends. Dredd Remington. Emmaline Heart and Dylan Ives had such high hopes for this place. What did they get instead? Long hours cleaning up the books and out-of-date hotel rooms. Unscrupulous people trying to snatch the casino out from under them. Disgruntled employees who hadn’t been paid fair wages for years. And so many fucking questions it made their heads spin. Twice.
All four of them had been tapped out when they bought this casino, but they had to find more ways to bring in mon
ey. And they did. By hook or by crook, they continued to find the funds to do what needed to be done.
Shit needed to be fixed, employees needed to be paid, hotel rooms had to be upgraded, and while they did all that, they still needed to bring in gamblers willing to spend their hard-earned money in their place.
It was a never-ending cycle, but they did it. Dylan and Dredd made magic happen on a regular basis, and their magical unicorn stacks of cash always hit the spot right when needed.
“Shit,” she yelled out into the quiet office. If she ever found Milley, she’d wring her fucking neck and make her body disappear where no one would ever find her.
Standing up from her leather chair, she walked to the window of her office that overlooked the casino. On any other day, the view would bring a smile to her face. Being situated on the mezzanine deck, she had a clear view of the casino floor.
Most of it, anyway.
The lights, the laughter, and the people walking around gave her a sense of success. It felt wonderful to see their investment looking so good. Even with all the issues dropped into their lap that first year, they’d done something miraculous.
This should be a moment of happiness, but she couldn’t dig deep enough to pull out that emotion. The primary feeling running through her veins was anger.
What was that old saying? Oh yeah… There was no rest for the wicked. Thinking about her life and her attempts to make good on the things she’d done in the past, she should get a fucking T-shirt with that saying displayed on the front.
Yeah, there would be no rest for her anytime soon.
Staring at her reflection in the mirror, Terra grimaced at how much she’d changed over the years. Physically she looked the same, just a bit older. Sitting in her large office, she’d become the one thing her parents had hoped and wished she would. Legitimate. If the fourteen-year-old version of herself walked through her office door right now, she wouldn’t recognize the person staring back at her.
Back in the day, she’d been the wild child and had enjoyed her reputation for causing shit. Her voice had been loud and brash and she used it on a regular basis to get what she wanted. She was afraid of nothing and no one and would dare anyone to get froggy and jump. That strong personality and hair-trigger temper of hers had manifested itself in the oddest of ways, but it had never slowed her down.
As she’d found her own voice, her parents had encouraged and helped her along the way. The Sunday morning sit-downs when she, her parents, and her younger brother would gather around the dining room table and shoot the shit were some of her best memories. Just laughing and talking about what they’d do when they won the lottery. That was their fun; dreaming of one day getting out of their apartment, moving away, living a better life and helping those who’d helped them when they were down.
One of them would usually bring up the question that she and her brother Malcolm dreaded, and usually set the scene for the two-hour lecture…uh, talk.
“So, what do you plan to do with your life?”
Those ten words were the basis for every Sunday morning conversation since she was thirteen and her brother was ten. Her parents wanted her to take on the world and make it her bitch. It’s what they’d done, and they wanted her to have that same life.
The repeated reminders that she had to be better than the girl down the street and around the corner never failed to hit home. Everything she wanted in life, she’d have to fight for. Nothing—and they meant nothing—would be handed to her by anyone.
As the oldest child of Winston and Angela Dupree, she knew things her younger brother didn’t. And that was a good thing. Her eyes had seen things they shouldn’t have.
During those moments of shock and awe, and hidden out of her parents’ sight, she’d also learned that life wasn’t clean and tidy like people expected. Things didn’t always make sense. Sometimes, you had to get a little dirty to get what you wanted from life. There was nothing wrong with that.
Some would say she had a cynical view of the world. That she couldn’t live life that way. She would say those people were the weak ones and she wouldn’t hesitate to climb over their carcasses on her way to the top. They were the cogs in a wheel who’d always be working for someone else. Always begging and scraping for everything they had. Living paycheck to paycheck because they never took a risk. Too afraid of doing what was necessary.
Making shit happen, by whatever means necessary, had never been an issue for her. Which is exactly why they’d made this move. This casino was their first power play and she was not going to let it fail.
Thinking back on one of the talks with her father, she’d accepted a long time ago that success and power came to you in different ways. When confronted with an opportunity, you had to be ready to step up.
If you weren’t, someone else would take your place.
A cunning little girl, she’d watched her parents for years. When they thought her head was buried in a book and she was off in a fantasy world, her ears were open. One thing she’d learned under their tutelage, you grab power wherever you can. That was how she’d lived her life and it had worked for her so far.
From what she’d learned, it also worked for her mom and dad. Winston Dupree had grown up in the streets. He loved it. He thrived on it. But he’d always wanted more.
When he met Angela Carter, his life had changed for the better. Well, that was his story anyway and he was sticking to it. Over the years, she’d heard snippets of various conversations and learned an interesting fact. Her mother had been as ruthless as her father, if not more so; a real fighter, willing to scrap with anyone who got in her way.
As a teenage girl, her mom had been so hardcore, she’d gotten the nickname Ice Queen. Something about her scared people and if they crossed her once, they never did it again. Shaking her head at the prim and proper picture her mother presented today, it was hard to believe her mom had been a menace in her own neighborhood. Everyone she met walked away understanding that Angela was not the one to be tested.
Back in the day, whenever she left the house, she was strapped. Even before she’d met Terra’s father. Grown men made a point to avoid her. Ruthless. Gangster. Hefe. Whispered words used to describe her mother. No man had ever stepped to her with the intent of being the one by her side. They were all afraid to come at her wrong. But not Winston. Oh no, not that crazy-ass man.
Terra’s father took one look at the feisty Puerto Rican girl with the hazel eyes and big hair and fell in love. As her aunts and uncles would later tell Terra, her father’s nose was wide open from day one. Her mother had put a spell on him and nothing would stop him from making her his. When the two of them met, the connection was immediate. Each of them had known they’d found their other half.
And they had the same goal. To get out of their neighborhood and build a better life for themselves.
They hustled. They played the game. They pushed each other to do more. Be more. Both smart, they knew slinging drugs on the corner wasn’t the way of the future. Legitimacy was the cover they needed.
Education was a necessary evil, but it had to be done in order for them to get where they wanted to be. They went to school every day, no matter what. People from the neighborhood clowned them at first, but Winston put a stop to that shit quick.
Terra smiled as she remembered her parents laughing about how her father had stomped a kid who kept calling them out for trying to be white and accusing them of being sellouts. Her father was still pissed off about that after all these years.
They were both accepted into the local university and four years later, they each graduated with a bachelor’s degree in business administration. While her father had enough of school and set his sights on implementing what they’d learned, her mother decided to go one step further and got her MBA.
Terra knew what it felt like to have those initials behind her name. MBA. It made an enormous difference when sitting around a table with a bunch of men who tried to look down their noses at her simply becau
se she was a woman.
A brown-skinned woman at that.
Turning away from the window, she walked back to her gleaming cherrywood desk. A gift from her father, it was beautiful, and it was a signal to all who entered her domain.
I’m the HBIC…Head Bitch in Charge, and don’t ever forget it.
Her parents were committed to their education and leaving their old life behind. They wanted a better life for their children, no matter what barrier stood in their way.
She’d been born right after her mother graduated with her four-year degree and it had been hard on her parents. Some of her earlier memories were sitting on her mother’s lap while she did homework at the kitchen table.
Her father would be in the living room with some of their friends, discussing the future and making plans for the next big opportunity. He used the knowledge he’d gained in college to help his boys—and their families—expand their businesses, whatever that business happened to be. At the time, her father didn’t care how they made their money. It wasn’t his business. All he cared about was getting that paper and adding to the nest egg he’d created for his wife and children.
As a result of his advice, the people would pay him a consulting fee. If his advice netted them new business, increased revenue, and greater expansion and control, they paid him an additional fee. It worked like a charm. And with the combined power of both her father and mother, their reputation for providing good business advice grew beyond their wildest dreams.
Her parents built a multimillion-dollar consulting business with clients from all levels of society. They were comfortable with everyone from the street hustler on the corner trying to make his come-up, to the man driving a three-hundred-thousand-dollar car and who only wore tailored suits.
Still, they never forgot where they came from. They’d never lied to their children about how they grew up, but they also made it clear that old life was not for them anymore. That didn’t mean Uncle Ernest and cousins June-Bug and Pookie didn’t come to visit them. Because they did. All the time. Along with their wives, kids, and numerous other friends.