The Game Never Ends

by Zaire Crown

  “I’ll come back soon as I can,” was the last thing her faceless hero said before closing the door on her.

  Her father’s dated masculine theme and the overuse of dark wood meant no ambient light for her to see by. Reina had to feel her way forward until she reached the desk.

  Suddenly a phone light blinded her, held by somebody sitting there. She was startled like a deer in the road.

  “Hey, Pretty Girl. Didn’t I tell you I’d get us in a room all by ourselves?”

  Tuesday turned the screen on itself so Reina could see her gray eyes flicker in the light. “Alone at last.”

  Chapter Fifty-four

  “How did you know Rose was a decoy?” Reina asked.

  “Because you’re a chess master. A good player will always sacrifice the queen to escape a tight position.”

  Tuesday typed a text into her phone. A second later the lights came back on. They both squinted hard, needing a moment for their dark-adapted eyes to adjust.

  Reina shook her head, wearing a smirk. “The darkness and explosions—disorientation and distraction.”

  She remembered the man they found slumped over in the hall. He pointed his gun at Reina then immediately turned it on her escort.

  “My friend there wasn’t killing intruders to protect me—he was the intruder killing my men right in front of me. All the while every choice designed to lead me right here.”

  “Didn’t think you would recognize my man DelRay,” Tuesday said. “Now all your men are dead—your numbers were already low, but the losses in Detroit and L.A. left you too weak here. Sun Tzu said that the best way to defeat a large army is to divide its forces.”

  Reina looked impressed. “You studied The Art of War?”

  “Just read the book, but been studying it my whole life. To be honest, really didn’t tell me shit I ain’t already know.

  “Bitch like me didn’t go to Oxford or come up in a big house with a rich daddy. All the strategies and military tactics you learned from books and games, I had to live in the streets.”

  “My sister. Is she dead?”

  “I gave her a choice and she made it.”

  “While Brandon was betraying you, Rose was betraying me. Probably been helping you long enough to plant the new chef in my house. The cake was a nice touch.”

  Tuesday shrugged. “Someone once said ‘in this game people either die loyal or live long enough to betray you.’ After the way you dangled her as bait, I can’t blame her.”

  “Did I dangle Rose or did she dangle me? I bet she fed you some sob story about being the unloved twin who was always stuck in my shadow.”

  Tuesday nodded towards the case with all of her trophies and awards. “Pretty clear who Daddy’s favorite was.”

  When Tuesday stood, Reina saw that she was wearing an Adidas track suit and matching sneakers. She walked over to Reina who did not retreat from her approach. For a second they just measured each other with a stare.

  Tuesday grabbed her, forced her body into hers and jammed her tongue into Reina’s mouth. Reina was stunned at first but quickly gave in to the kiss. What they shared was slow and passionate and lasted for about twenty seconds before each one needed to catch her breath.

  Reina had something in her eyes that resembled victory. “How long have you been wanting to do that?”

  “Since the first time I saw you at the restaurant.” Tuesday whispered this as if ashamed to confess it.

  She matched Tuesday’s tone: “And what did you think the first time you saw me?”

  Tuesday hesitated. “She da baddest bitch I ever seen.”

  Reina smiled, wet her lips seductively. “And what else have you been wanting to do to me?”

  Tuesday stepped back, slid out of the Adidas jacket revealing a crispy wifebeater with no bra. She pulled a ponytail holder from her pocket and used it to tie back her hair.

  Reina looked amused. “Is this what we’re doing? Are we supposed to take off our earrings and fight like two chicks in the middle of the projects?”

  “Y’all like to keep reminding me that I’m just a hoodrat. I promised I was gonna beat the shit outta you then choke you to death for Marcus. You can try to fight back.”

  “I have two Ph.Ds. and an I.Q. of one-ninety. Ironic that I’m about to die because I never learned to fight.”

  “It’s the first thing you learn where I’m from.”

  “Before we start do you mind if I enjoy a final sip of that tequila and one of those good Cubans?”

  When Tuesday agreed, Reina walked over to her father’s desk and poured two glasses from the crystal decanter. She lifted the humidor and offered Tuesday a smoke.

  She accepted the drink and cigar. She leaned forward and accepted a light when Reina presented a platinum Zippo.

  They had switched positions. She sank into her father’s chair while Tuesday stood before the desk.

  For a few minutes, neither woman spoke, they sipped and puffed thick tobacco clouds in silence.

  “This is good,” Tuesday said holding up the glass. “The cigar is a little harsh though.”

  “The tequila is from a small village in Mexico close to where my father was born. He says they age it seventeen years before bottling it, but I don’t know if that’s true.”

  “Could be,” Tuesday said after another swallow. “It’s clearly the best I ever had.”

  “My father wasn’t educated either but he had good taste. He was also a very prudent man.”

  “Marcus told me he was super-connected.”

  Reina blew smoke. “You have no idea what this is really about. Brandon crossed Sebastian for the same reason Rose crossed me. When my father died it left a vacant chair. Everybody’s jockeying for that seat at The Table.”

  Wrinkles creased Tuesday’s forehead. “Whose table?”

  Reina laughed. “They’re people out here with power on a level you couldn’t imagine—compared to them I’m just a peon. I only want to sell a little dope and make a few billion, but they’re actually playing chess with the planet. Tuesday, your world is about to get a lot bigger and a lot more complicated.”

  While she spoke, Tuesday noticed her hand slip out of view.

  “Don’t even bother searching for that pistol your very-prudent father hid under the desk.” From her pocket, Tuesday pulled a shiny chrome single-shot .22 Derringer. “I had enough time to do some snooping before you came in.”

  That was when something like defeat showed on Reina’s face.

  Tuesday sucked down the last bit of pale liquor and butted the remainder of the Cuban. “You ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.” Reina stood after one last pull. She stepped around the desk and presented herself to Tuesday like a prisoner awaiting execution. Nothing in her body language suggested that she intended to fight back.

  “Rose was right. I should’ve never underestimated you.”

  Tuesday countered, “You should’ve never fucked with me!”

  “I’ll tell you a secret about my sister, something my father never knew. She scored a lot higher than me on the I.Q. test and was the only person who could consistently beat me at chess. She’s good at playing the victim but is actually a predator.”

  Tuesday’s face indicated that she was done talking. She made a fist, motioned like she was about to swing but Reina flinched so hard that Tuesday paused.

  She raised her hands in defense. “Please, not in the face.”

  Tuesday looked at Reina and almost pitied her. “This was never s’posed to be your life. You’re not a gangster, never had to get your hands dirty. You’re just a spoiled little daddy’s girl who should’ve been in a lab somewhere curing cancer. I’m sorry for what Marcus did to your brother.”

  “He broke my heart—it’s what he does. He would’ve broken yours too—”

  Pop.

  That shot to the chest silenced Reina mid-sentence. Tuesday watched the pretty doll sink to her knees then ease onto her side. She reclined against the case that held the evid
ence of her beauty and intelligence. Her head rolled to the side; her eyes were open but seeing nothing. To Tuesday it was as if she had purposely posed herself even though she had died instantly.

  The .22 bullet had stopped her heart which meant no blood would pool around her body. No bruise would appear on her exquisite face. La Guapa would be as beautiful in death as she had been in life.

  Tuesday looked down on her for a moment then returned to the desk. She helped herself to another glass of tequila.

  Chapter Fifty-five

  Three weeks later DelRay pulled back into the junkyard on Detroit’s Westside. He was driving the brand new Escalade ESV Tuesday had bought for him. It was her first major purchase after the feds released Tabitha King’s bank accounts. Silence was in the passenger seat and Tuesday sat behind him.

  Madame Vega, her son, and a few of their men were already waiting. They stood outside the white BMW as DelRay pulled his Escalade nose-to-nose. The shiny new vehicles stood out among the rusty and twisted metal.

  Tuesday, DelRay, and Silence all stepped out to greet the woman in white.

  Vega said, “I didn’t think you’d want to meet like this now that you’re back to being all corporate again.”

  “Believe me, this is the last time. And it’s the last time you speak to me directly.” Tuesday nodded towards DelRay. “From here on out, you deal with my right hand.”

  “So how did it feel to kill the woman who killed your husband? I’m curious to know.”

  Tuesday didn’t blink. “When our business is complete you’ll get your chance to find out.”

  “That play you put down cost me a lot of men and material. I’m thinking we need to restructure the terms of our agreement.”

  “I don’t wanna hear that shit,” Tuesday snapped. “You ’bout to come up fuckin’ with me. Don’t try to get greedy.”

  “I’m supposed to shoot my shot,” said Vega. “Saw a big thing on the news about how Abel Incorporated is moving to Detroit. Breaking ground on a new high-rise downtown next year. Supposed to bring about seven thousand new jobs to the city. You’re doing big things Ms. CEO.”

  Tuesday didn’t entertain her. “Did you get the list?”

  Vega flashed a folded slip of paper she pulled from her purse.

  Tuesday said, “Before we can get started we need all those positions filled within the U.S. Customs Agency, the Port Authority, and within my company.”

  “I have a list of applicants.” Vega pulled a separate sheet of paper and passed it to her man who walked it to DelRay. “Loyal, dependable, ambitious. People who will do what they’re told and not ask too many questions, as long as our gratitude is reflected in their pockets.”

  Tuesday received the list from DelRay. She scanned it for a moment, then folded it into her pocket. “It’ll be suspicious if they’re all Latino. Think diversity. And it goes without saying that they all gotta have clean records.”

  Vega agreed. “Once we get everybody in place, how soon can you start making deliveries?”

  “I figure the first can happen within six weeks of being staffed. One shipment every ninety days after that for twenty-four months. Eight total. Then we’re done.”

  “You’re gonna make so much money on this deal that you might want to extend the time period.”

  “That’s not gonna happen,” Tuesday frowned. “I’m already caked up—I’m not doing this for the money. I’m just keeping my word. Eight shipments, that’s it.”

  Vega smiled. “You look so serious. That’s a different look in your eyes from the one you had the last time you were here.”

  That comment drew laughter from Vega’s son Aaron who added, “Your girlfriend is buried out back if you ever want to come pay your respects.”

  Tuesday took a step towards them. “I’m back home now and ’bout to put my hand down in a big way. You better use these next few years to get your house in order. Go every place you’ve ever wanted to go, eat all your favorite foods, fuck every nigga you’ve ever wanted to fuck. Hug and kiss that little funny-looking ass boy there as much as you can.”

  That scrubbed the smirk from Aaron’s face.

  “Put together that bucket list and start checking shit off,” Tuesday continued. “Because as soon as I make good on my promise, as soon as I deliver the last shipment, I’m at yo’ muthafuckin’ ass, bitch. Please believe it.”

  Tuesday motioned to DelRay and Silence who all turned to leave when Vega called out to her.

  “I just have to know—one mother to another—who did you pick? Before the girl gave up her life in that beautiful and selfless act, I know you made a choice. Which door were you going to open, Tuesday? Which daughter were you going to save, which were you going to leave in the car?”

  Tuesday climbed into the Cadillac and glared at her through the window. There was nothing but fire and steel in her eyes. “Two years then we WAR!”

  Chapter Fifty-six

  Tuesday had to fly out to Los Angeles that night with plans to stay for three days before returning. A tedious marathon of meetings with bankers and lawyers was necessary to transfer some of Tabitha King’s personal interests to Michigan. She also had to transfer Danielle to a school district in Farmington Hills—an affluent suburb outside of Detroit—where Tuesday had already begun searching for a new house.

  DelRay had never flown commercial before so she was eager to take him up on the Abel corporate jet. With the move to Detroit pending, the company had already leased a private hangar at Metro Airport for the G-650.

  DelRay was behind the wheel of his Escalade, and Silence, who Tuesday paid to retain his services indefinitely, sat in the passenger seat. She was in the back with Tanisha sandwiched between her and Danielle.

  Tuesday’s phone had been blowing up on the ride to the airport from an unavailable number. She refused to answer and they refused to leave a voice mail.

  The parking lot was near empty when they pulled up at Metro. Inside they walked past ticket booths with no lines and saw only scattered groups of individuals entranced by their mobile devices while waiting for boarding calls.

  Inside the private hanger DelRay marveled at the white bird with red striping, Abel Inc. across the fuselage in block lettering. Tuesday recognized the look of nervous excitement, the look of a kid about to ride his first roller coaster.

  After Tuesday looked around, her expression reflected her concern. While the door on the jet was open, the large hangar door was still closed. The captain and copilot were typically on hand to greet her and load any baggage, but neither of them were visible.

  Beef with La Guapa still had her cautious. Her mind was screaming: Trap!

  “Ms. Knight, you and I have a few things to discuss.”

  Tuesday turned to the direction of the female voice. From the opposite side of the hangar, near a separate service door that led outside, Ms. Jackson approached with another male agent.

  DelRay looked confused, but Silence took the stance of someone ready to bang it out. His hand hovered near a pistol tucked on his waist. It was clear that he was prepared to separate spirit from body before being taken back into custody.

  “It’s okay Big Man, nobody’s here for that.” The woman with the short afro limped forward favoring a cane, one palm up. “I’m only here to talk and she wasn’t answering the phone.

  “If I wanted you in a cell, you’d already be there. I know about you . . . and your father.” She punctuated that with a look that indicated a history both understood and neither needed to explain.

  Message received, Silence moved his hand away from the gun.

  “Tuesday, the gentleman at my side is Agent Morrison.” She motioned to the light-skinned dude next to her with the bald head and crispy-trimmed goatee. “He’s one of my most-trusted colleagues. You and I are about to discuss topics that may not be age-appropriate for you daughters. Do you mind if he takes the girls back inside to the frozen yogurt kiosk in the food court?”

  Skepticism pinched her face.

&
nbsp; Ms. Jackson said, “I am aware of the ordeal they recently endured and can assure you they’re perfectly safe with him.”

  Tuesday thought for a second then sucked her teeth. “DelRay, go with them.”

  Jackson paused for a moment before giving a slow nod. “That is acceptable. Mr. Royce can join the girls.”

  Her daughters looked to Tuesday for approval before they accepted DelRay’s large hands. He and the young agent walked them back towards the service exit that led back into the airport.

  Once the door closed behind the children, the three remaining adults faced each other.

  “Congratulations Ms. Knight, on getting your company back. Me and other interested parties were watching from the side.”

  She sneered. “Now it’s congratulations? Last time we spoke you was talking ’bout locking me up for a hundred years.”

  “I could lock you up for five hundred,” Jackson shot back. “If you factor in what happened here, California, and Texas—you actually had men firing a rocket launcher on the Los Angeles freeway. Fuck murder,” she scoffed. “I could bring you up on terrorism charges.”

  Tuesday folded her arms. “Then why I’m still walking ’round free? Especially after I ghosted you at the First Precinct.”

  “Don’t look so smug, Ms. Knight, ’cause you’re not half as slick as you think you are. Do you think it’s a coincidence that no law enforcement agency, local or otherwise, has kicked in your door after all that chaos? Don’t you find it odd that the insurance company paid out so quickly for your house in Beverly Hills and that the Abel investigation wrapped up in a flash to unfreeze your accounts? What about how easily the case closed on Brandon King’s ‘suicide?’ ” She used her fingers to mimic quotes. “Who do you think’s been running behind you, scooping up your shit like a dog walker?”

  Tuesday’s face revealed she never even considered it.

  “Making police reports disappear, witnesses changing their stories, even bodies vanishing from the coroner’s office. Pulling strings on the Detroit city council to fast-track Abel’s move without all the typical red tape.” Jackson tapped her chest. “All me, babygirl.