The Game Never Ends

by Zaire Crown

  It was close to midnight and the strip mall’s parking lot had emptied except for their vehicles slotted side by side right out front. Bo’s was the only business with its sign still glowing. They stood in the space between their cars bathed in the orange light of a cartoon pig.

  “I didn’t just come here to catch up,” Tuesday confessed. “I need you, Adrian. I’m at war and I’m losing. If everything plays out the way it should, I’ll have soldiers in a minute. But I need a general, somebody to help me direct. I’m not trying to mess up your situation but I could really use you on my team. Won’t have to worry ’bout money or anything.”

  He leaned against his SUV. “I just spent sixteen years on my bunk thinking about what I would do if I ever got the chance to get out here again. At first you miss the cars, the money, the life, but after a while you start missing the small things. The simple freedom to come and go as you please, the comfort and privacy of sleeping on your own bed in your own home.

  “I thought I was gonna die in that place and then a miracle happened. Tuesday, you know I ain’t never been on that religious trip, but when that lawyer came out of nowhere, I knew God was real. I promised myself and the Man upstairs that if He got me out, I would do the right thing from then on out.”

  That suddenly made sense of why one of the most thuggish niggas she had ever known was volunteering at a church.

  A.D. read the look on her face. “Naw, I ain’t one of them types. I ain’t the dude who gone bring up Jesus every two minutes or quote scriptures at you all day. I’m just trying to live right. You said your husband changed his ways so you can relate to where I’m coming from.”

  Tuesday understood but really didn’t want to.

  “Well at least let me help you out with some cash. Maybe get you a new car. I ain’t surviving off Ramen noodles no more.”

  He shook his head. “You held me down for twelve years inside. I appreciate it but you don’t owe me nothing else.”

  She smiled. “It would be sort of a welcome-home gift. Friends buy gifts for friends, Adrian.”

  He gave her a bitch, please look. “Tuesday, let’s quit playing. There ain’t no world we could be in together as just friends. We both know what would end up happening. It’s all in our eyes when we look at each other.”

  Tuesday couldn’t deny that she wanted him. She felt like shit for thinking it, but if A.D. said the word, she would be in the back of his raggedy Mountaineer with that two-thousand-dollar Julien MacDonald piece balled up on the floor right next to her thong.

  He continued, “Like I said, she’s a good girl and I ain’t trying to be that dude.”

  Tuesday forced herself to respect that. She knew it wasn’t smart or even safe to bring A.D. into her life. Just meeting him for dinner might have put a target on his back.

  It had been a rough couple of weeks and Marcus was still a fresh wound. She didn’t go there looking to replace him. Tuesday had just needed a distraction, and maybe a little validation which was why she bought that tiny dress.

  They reached that awkward moment during the date when there was nothing left to say, when it was time to leave but neither person seemed ready.

  Neon light shimmered across his wavy hair like the moon on a dark ocean. His brown eyes held her captive. “Take care of yourself Bright Eyes.”

  She implored him to do the same.

  Tuesday didn’t know who initiated the kiss, only that they both surrendered instantly. He pressed her against the Hyundai, his tongue danced in her mouth. As some point she didn’t remember, she leaped into his arms and wrapped his waist with her thighs. The motion hiked her minidress so high that anybody who pulled into the lot would get mooned. Tuesday was too lost in the kiss to either notice or care.

  It wasn’t long before she felt that warm wood growing and pulsing through his slacks. She moaned in anticipation. The length of him excited her. It was like the years in prison had made his dick a bigger, hungrier beast.

  They attacked each other for a full minute until the flashing lights and annoying screech broke their trance. She and A.D. didn’t realize that they had grinded each other so hard they set off the Hyundai’s alarm. She silenced it with the remote.

  “Lord forgive me, but I been wanting to do that since the church.” A.D. puffed the words through heavy breaths. “I think I overstepped the line?”

  Tuesday’s head was still spinning as she adjusted her dress. “I don’t know. The line kinda’ blurry right now.”

  They stared into each other’s eyes and said what needed to be said without words. No tears, no goodbyes. They shared one final hug.

  Then they shared one final laugh when Tuesday showed him her huge butt-print steaming the glass of her driver’s window.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Villa Bella was a massive ranch sitting on three hundred and ninety-five prime Texas acres just outside of San Antonio. The wooded areas offered good hunting for deer, wild hogs, and geese during the migratory seasons. The stable housed twenty-four well-bred Spanish stallions, including the descendants of two Derby winners. The main house was a twenty-thousand-square-foot masterpiece done in the classic Mediterranean style.

  Reina padded the glazed hardwood of the great hall in bare feet. Aztec-inspired ceramics and pottery were on display on every table and shelf. The walls were adorned with black-and-white photos of Vaqueros along with oil portraits of heroes who fought for Mexican independence. The decor was intended to prove that, despite their incredible wealth, the Rodriguez family had not forgotten their proud heritage.

  Reina slipped into the main kitchen where the staff was cleaning up after dinner. She stood in the doorway, quietly overlooking them for a minute before someone noticed her and whispered to the others.

  “Doña Rodriguez, can I help you?” The head chef had been lured away from a four-star restaurant in Fort Worth. Protocol dictated that as the senior member of the kitchen staff, he should be the only one to address her. “Is there something more we can do for you?”

  She asked, “Which of you were responsible for preparing the antojitos?”

  He asked, “Was something not to your liking, Miss?”

  Reina threatened him with a frown. “I asked who was responsible for the appetizers served with dinner?”

  Fear made his brown face turn pale. The elderly chef looked to be on the verge of a panic attack.

  “The food didn’t just appear on my table by magic.”

  She stepped into the kitchen and coldly scanned all six of their faces. The tension grew heavy enough to crush a walnut.

  “I prepared the first course, Doña Rodriguez.” The young assistant chef stepped forward who was scrubbing the industrial sized broiler. “If something was not satisfactory, please do not blame Chef Lawrence. I take full responsibility for—”

  Reina cut him off. “I thought the apple and sweet pepper slaw was the most delightful thing I’ve ever tasted. I only wanted to come offer my compliments in person.”

  She watched the entire staff collectively exhale in relief.

  “Thank you, Doña Rodriguez. I’m happy you enjoyed it.”

  She approached the young cook. “It was so delicious that I had a second and a third helping. I’ll have to spend an extra hour on the treadmill because of you.”

  She got close to him, close enough to invade his personal space. She watched him get nervous again as he tried to decide whether it would be more insulting to stay close or pull away.

  This was a different type of fear because the mistress of the house was dressed in a black satin gown by La Perla that was totally see-through. She wore nothing underneath.

  Reina asked, “What is your name?”

  He stammered, “M-Marco, Doña Rodriguez.”

  She pressed even closer to him, made him squirm. His eyes ricocheted from her eyes, down between her legs to some empty spot on the floor.

  She smiled amused, “You’re not trying to get me fat, are you? Marco, me prefieras gordita?”

&
nbsp; He shifted uncomfortably. “No, ma’am.”

  “Well I was extremely pleased by the slaw.” La Guapa thrust her chest out, dared him to notice the erect nipples of her perfectly-doctored 34Cs poking through the fabric. “I look forward to seeing how you will please me in the future.”

  He nodded shakily, swallowed hard as if a golf ball were lodged in his throat.

  She sashayed out of the kitchen knowing full well that rumors of this latest antic would circulate among the house staff and give them something to whisper about for the next couple of weeks.

  Reina was on the way back to her bedroom when she spotted something that was never supposed to be. Someone was in her father’s office.

  Rene Rodriguez had constructed a secret room deep within the interior of the house for conducting his most sensitive business. It was a closed-in space with no windows from which he could be spied upon. Her father was a disciplined man who discussed no aspect of the criminal side of his empire outside its walls, walls that were stuffed with a foot of expensive soundproof material.

  The hidden door was camouflaged into the wall paneling. This was wide open, throwing a shaft of yellow light across the hall.

  Reina stood at the entrance of her father’s former sanctum, a masculine space with plenty of wood, stuffed leather furniture and hunting trophies. She saw her sister seated behind the desk.

  Reina hissed at the trespass. “What are you doing?”

  “Just drinking.” Roselyn sipped from a glass next to a crystal decanter half-filled with pale liquor. “I’m having some of his ten-thousand-dollar tequila and thinking about smoking one of his Cubans.”

  “You shouldn’t be in here, Rose.”

  She took a swallow. “Papa is dead and we’re not five years old anymore. The ghost of Rene Rodriguez isn’t going to rise up and spank us for playing with our Barbie dolls in here.”

  Reina stepped inside. “Let’s give the man’s body a chance to cool before we start helping ourselves to his things.”

  “These are your things now, along with the house, the business, and all the properties. I got a sneak peek at the will and—spoiler alert—he left it all to you. I suspect they’ll probably even offer you his seat at The Table.”

  “Oh, I see. I crashed another one of your pity parties.” Reina frowned, disgusted. “Papa did it this way because he knew I would take care of you. When have I not taken care of you, Rose?”

  Roselyn jumped to her feet. “When have I ever needed you to, Reina?”

  She walked over to a mahogany and glass display case that was adjacent to the matching desk. The shelves were filled with trophies from chess tournaments, academic awards and certificates. In the center was a huge photo of a young Reina being crowned Miss Teen Texas with the tiara and sash hanging next to it.

  “Most parents at least pretend to love their children equally. Papa was surprisingly genuine in that respect.”

  “Knock it over,” Reina urged her. “Take a bat, go crazy until it’s just a pile of trash. You’ve been wanting to since you could remember.”

  Roselyn snorted when she noticed the negligee. “Still playing peekaboo with the house help? It was kinda funny when you were sixteen but now it’s just sad.”

  Reina fired back. “And this whole Daddy-loved-you-more-than-me thing was sad back when we were sixteen but now it’s just pathetic. Especially because we both know you could’ve filled ten of these trophy cases all over the house if you wanted.”

  Roselyn reclaimed her drink. “The part you never understood was that I shouldn’t have had to.”

  “Rose, I can tell by the slur in your speech that’s not your first glass of tequila. And since it’s obvious you’re not drinking to our father’s memory, who exactly are you mourning?”

  Roselyn’s eyes briefly flashed anger. “Who’s to say I’m mourning anyone?”

  Reina gave her a knowing look. “I remember when Rico first brought him here to live with us. We were nineteen and it was the summer that Papa first installed all the security cameras. I checked the footage and who do I see sneaking into my man’s room at three in the morning? It’s me, except I had a FIDE tournament in New York that weekend. Mysteries abound. How can a person be in two places at one time?”

  Roselyn shied away from her gaze embarrassed.

  “You put on some makeup, styled your hair like mine and slipped on one of my gowns. Sebastian was probably half-asleep and too drunk from partying with Rico to even notice the difference. Hell, maybe he did know after the first few strokes and just didn’t care.”

  “Trust me, he noticed.” Roselyn sneered at her. “He just couldn’t stop talking about how much tighter I was.”

  Reina marched toward her. “That would depend on which hole he used.”

  The twins stared long and hard at each other, their faces matching masks of hatred. Then they simultaneously broke into a smile and then laughter.

  Reina said, “In one way or another, he fucked everybody in our family.”

  Roselyn nodded. “Did you get the feeling that Papa was hanging on just long enough to see him again? They were alone together talking for a long time. What do you think they discussed?”

  “What difference does it make what a dying man said to one who would follow him in death shortly after?” Reina clucked her tongue. “Whatever Sebastian and Papa talked about, they both took it to their graves.”

  “What happened in Detroit?”

  Reina was speechless for a moment. “The rat slipped through a crack in the wall. She’ll look to build an alliance but it won’t matter. The second she sticks her head out, I’ll stomp on it.”

  “But why even bother? You’ve already taken everything. She’s already lost and doesn’t know it. In a few days the company will be ours. Why are you wasting men and money, at a time when we are short on both, just to torment this woman?”

  Reina stared at the oil painting the hung over the fireplace. It was an elaborate rendering of a proud matador standing victorious over a vanquished bull with spears in its bloody hide. Roses fell into the ring from the raucous spectators.

  She finally said, “We split from the same ovum and shared a womb. Don’t act like you can’t understand my motivations.”

  Roselyn held out her hands. “Come here. Come to me, Pretty Girl.”

  Reina was hesitant at first but then surrendered to her sister’s embrace.

  Roselyn stroked her hair and whispered, “After all this time, it’s still hurting.”

  “I didn’t think it did. Not until I saw him at the restaurant. I could’ve forgiven him for Rico, but he married this low-brow bitch, put his seed in her.” She wept on her shoulder. “Her every breath disrespects me, Rose.”

  Roselyn rubbed her back and made soothing sounds. “If it’s that important then we’ll end her. Will that make the Pretty Girl feel better?”

  Reina nodded.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  The next morning Tuesday called Brandon to learn that he had already put the money together. The delivery would take place within a few hours. He was supposed to call as soon as the jet landed in Detroit.

  Brandon also told her that the investigation out in L.A. had intensified. The police had upgraded her status to “Person of Interest” concerning the two bodies at the house and the boy she had killed at the industrial complex. He advised that the best thing for her was to keep off-the-radar while his lawyers did what they could to delay the inevitable arrest warrant.

  He could offer no explanation for her problems with the credit cards. She complained that all of Tabitha King’s plastic was being spat back in her face, from the no-limit American Express down to the simple gas cards. Brandon hung up after promising to get that straightened out.

  Shaun used the groceries from the night before to cook breakfast for everyone. She served Tanisha and Danielle cheese omelets in the kitchenette while Tuesday took hers next to Silence on the sofa that he slept on.

  Tuesday glanced at him a few times while
he quietly shoveled forkfuls of eggs into his mouth. She had come in late the previous night with her mind and hormones still in a twist from seeing A.D. Silence was built like a stud which made it easy to fantasize about what he might be working with or what type of damage he could do. Her big quiet bodyguard had no idea of how close Tuesday had come to trying to fuck him.

  She asked how he got into that line of work and got an interesting story about black nationalist extremists. Via text he told her that he grew up on a compound where he and other kids had been trained by militants to be soldiers in the oncoming race war. After he broke away at sixteen, he had been living in Detroit freelancing with the skills he learned in his father’s strange cult.

  He didn’t go into how he lost his hearing and Tuesday didn’t press for it.

  A while later DelRay showed up in his S55O Benz. Tuesday took Silence and started to leave Shaun behind watching the girls again. This was a habit that Shaun raised issues with.

  She grabbed Tuesday by the arm and pulled her into the bedroom. “You leave me here all day watching your kids; you run in and out without telling me nothing; you leave us alone with this stranger last night then come back late wearing a freak’um dress. Could you stop and talk to me for like five minutes before you go running off again?”

  Tuesday snatched out of the girl’s grip. “Bitch, you ain’t got no idea of what’s going on wit’ me right now—the type of stuff I’m facing. I don’t owe you shit. I told you what time it was when I came to your door. Now if you wanna go back home, let me know and I can have your ass on a plane in an hour. Do you wanna leave?”

  Shaun looked ready to battle back but something made her swallow the words along with a portion of her pride.

  “Well, let me handle my business then,” Tuesday barked. “And stop stressin’ me by actin’ like some over-sensitive side-piece who don’t know her muthafuckin’ place.”

  When Tuesday stormed out of the room, she wished they had closed the door. Danielle stood there watching her with something that looked like disappointment.