Murderville 2: The Epidemic (21 page)

Dahlia sat and placed the briefcase in her lap. Popping
it open, she bypassed the small caliber pistol that she carried inside and pulled out the velvet bag that contained the diamonds. She removed one and placed it on a small cloth for him to see.

Ahmad pulled out a looking glass and leaned over to examine the stone. It was so clear that it appeared as though he were looking at glass. He was a man of experience so he knew that Dahlia had brought him stones that were quite valuable.

“They’re flawless,” Ahmad exclaimed, breathless.

“They’re for sale,” Dahlia replied.

Ahmad looked up at her and placed the looking glass down. “I’ll give you a quarter million for them, right now, in cash,” he offered.

Dahlia sat back and crossed her legs while shaking her head. “Now I have a number in my head that I find appropriate. I can tell you that you’re not even close to it. Why don’t you try again,” she said sweetly. Ahmad loved the challenge of a black woman. They were strong, outspoken, and seductive. Haggling with Dahlia made his loins tingle as he stared at her full lips and beautiful cantaloupe-shaped breasts.

“$300,000,” Ahmad countered.

Dahlia stood. “You’re wasting my time,” she stated as she turned to leave.

Ahmad stood and said, “Wait!”

He rounded the desk and pushed the door completely closed so that she was stuck between him and the exit. Her round behind pushed into his crotch, making his dick harden. She turned to face him.

“Make a fair offer or let me leave,” she demanded. They stood so close to each other that her lips touched his as she spoke. Her breath smelled sweet, and her perfume danced up his nostrils.

“I bet your pussy tastes sweet like dark cherries,” Ahmad whispered.

Her breath caught in her throat when she felt his hands part her thighs as they made their way up her dress.

His handsome face was dark, mysterious, and sexy as he seduced her. “You’re not wearing panties,” he commented.

She gasped as he inserted two fingers inside of her.

“They just get in the way,” she whispered.

Ahmad lowered himself until he was face-first with her pussy, then dove right in while humming in satisfaction.

“Hmm. It tastes just the way I thought it would,” he moaned as he sucked on her pussy as if it were a fresh peach. Dahlia’s knees weakened as he sucked and licked her with passion. She had never had her womanhood treated so good. Ahmad knew exactly what he was doing as he focused on her clit and made love to her middle with his long, wet tongue.

“Black pussy is the best pussy,” he whispered as he took his fingers and spread her southern lips so that he left no part of her undiscovered.

“Oh shit,” Dahlia moaned.

Ahmad sucked her until she squirted her juices all over his tongue. He stood to his feet and wiped his face.

“I hope you enjoyed it,” he said, pulling a handkerchief out of his lapel and cleaning up.

Dahlia adjusted her dress and cleared her throat.

“$500,000,” Ahmad said.

“$600,000,” Dahlia replied. “Half a million for my stones and another hundred thousand for giving you a taste of the best pussy you’ll ever have.”

“Is that the going rate if I wanted to taste it again?” he asked.

“It is,” she replied with a sexy smirk as she pulled out a laptop and opened it on top of his desk. “Wire the $500k into this Swiss account and the stones are yours. I’ll take my money in cash.”

*    *    *

Trixie had never been to Detroit. As she rode in the backseat of the Lincoln Town Car that had been arranged for her, she couldn’t help but notice that the cold, industrial city was a far cry from sunny, friendly L.A. that she was used to. She felt as if she were in the middle of a concrete jungle as she was driven to her destination. The Palace of Auburn Hills was the stadium of Michigan’s professional basketball team, and she had a meeting with the owner of the organization. She was sure that the stones would move quickly, and as they pulled up she hoped that she could pull off such an important transaction. Since Rocko and Ayo had put her down with the Castro hit, Trixie’s income had quadrupled overnight. She was getting money with Po’s crew and desperately wanted to keep her spot.

“We’re here,” the driver announced as he opened his door and came around to let Trixie out. “I’ll be right here when you’re ready to leave. Just call me five minutes before.”

Trixie nodded, and then looked up at the circular building feeling intimidated. A month ago she was turning tricks with down-low brothers on the streets, and now she was about to sit across the table from a multimillionaire. Oh, how life had changed for her.

She entered the building and approached the guest services desk. She made sure to dress conservatively. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself by being over the top, but even in the two-piece pencil skirt suit, she still exuded sexuality. Trixie may have been born a man, but she had the woman act down. No one would ever know her sex unless they lay down in bed with her—that’s how beautifully she passed as a woman. Trixie was a bad bitch.

“I have a meeting with Mr. Hunter,” she said as she pulled at the skirt, fidgeting nervously.

“Your name?” the receptionist asked.

“Trixie.”

“Last name?” the receptionist pushed.

“Diamonds,” Trixie answered, laughing slightly to herself.

The receptionist eyed her curiously but picked up the phone to announce her arrival.

“His assistant will be down to get you shortly,” the woman said after hanging up the phone.

Trixie nodded, then stepped back as she drifted around the lobby, looking at the various trophies and team photos that were on display.

“Trixie, right this way, please,” a woman called.

Trixie turned and followed the woman up to the VIP
office. “Mr. Hunter, your 3 o’clock appointment has arrived,” she announced as Trixie followed her through the door.

Mr. Hunter extended a seat to her and waited until his assistant left the room before he spoke.

“Welcome, Trixie. I hope your travels were safe,” he said.

Trixie nodded. “It was fine.”

“So let’s see them.”

Trixie pulled the diamonds out and laid them across his desk.

Mr. Hunter picked up one of the stones and held it up to the light. Immediately it sparkled.

“Exquisite,” he remarked. He put it back on the desk and looked at Trixie. “As are you, Trixie.”

Trixie smiled and replied, “Thank you, Mr. Hunter, but trust me, honey, you can’t handle what Ms. Trixie has to offer.”

Mr. Hunter chuckled. “I beg to differ.” He stood and walked over to his floor-to-ceiling window and looked out over the parking lot while thinking. “I want these stones. I’m willing to offer you $450,000.”

“You add fifty grand to that number and you’ve got yourself a deal,” Trixie said. “I have very strict instructions. I can’t go any lower then that number.”

Mr. Hunter turned toward Trixie and said, “I suppose I can do that
if
you agree to accompany me to dinner this evening before you leave town.”

Trixie laughed and then replied, “Listen, Mr. Hunter, I like you. You seem like a good man, and I don’t want to
see your name on the front page of any tabloid. So let me be frank with you,” Trixie stated. She cleared her throat, and then spoke freely in her masculine tone. “You don’t want what I have to offer. Taking me to dinner will ruin your career.”

Mr. Hunter’s eyes bulged in surprise. “L . . . let’s just conclude the deal,” he stammered.

Trixie pulled out a laptop and set up the wire transfer account. “All you have to do is enter your bank information and press
SUBMIT
,” she stated.

Mr. Hunter moved with haste, wanting to get the transaction over as soon as possible. He was clearly uncomfortable. Trixie couldn’t help but chuckle to herself.

“All done,” Mr. Hunter said.

Trixie collected her laptop and left the diamonds where they lay.

“Nice doing business with you,” Trixie said sweetly, waving good-bye as she left.

*    *    *

The knock at the door startled Liberty as she lay in bed staring at her phone and the missed calls from Po. As much as she wanted to reach out to him, she couldn’t. Loyalty to her past was stopping her from falling for her future. She arose from the bed and hesitantly went to the door. She grabbed the small .22 mm handgun that she had taken from Po. No one knew where she was.
There shouldn’t be anybody knocking at my door,
she thought as she held her breath while walking toward it.

“It’s me, Liberty. I know you in there. Open up.”

She sighed in relief when she recognized Rocko’s voice. Her relief turned to annoyance as she pulled open the door.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, walking away, leaving the door hanging open and Rocko standing at the threshold. “How did you even know where to find me?”

“I followed you the morning you left. Po wanted me to make sure you were okay,” Rocko said. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. In his hands he carried a Gucci duffle. He took the strap off his shoulder and held it out for her. “That’s the money he promised you.”

Liberty folded her arms and shook her head. “I don’t want that money. It’s dirty.”

Rocko chuckled and rubbed his hands together. He respected her morals, but she was living in a fantasyland. “There’s no such thing as clean money, ma. Everybody crosses somebody to get it.”

“Well, I don’t want it,” she said again, this time more sternly.

“Well, I can’t take it back. I don’t give a fuck what you do with it. Give it to the homeless nigga in front of the building for all I care. Po sent me here to give it to you. I’ve done my part,” Rocko said as he turned toward the door, strolling out with a nonchalant swag. She eyed the bag of money. She respected Po for keeping his word, but hated him at the same time for being too greedy to turn away from the game. Rocko paused and turned to see her battling silently with herself.

“For the record, Po’s a good nigga. You should go home. I’ve only seen him treat one other person the way that he
treats you,” Rocko said. He thought of Scarlett in that moment, as did Liberty. “The only difference is, she would have never walked away from him the way you did.”

He walked out and closed the door behind him, leaving her standing there feeling guilty as if she were in the wrong.

SEVENTEEN

DAHLIA ENTERED THE HOUSE AND WENT INTO
Po’s office, knocking on the door frame as she watched him pacing the floor as he spoke into the phone.

“Liberty, it’s me. Give me a call. I miss you, ma,” he said.

Dahlia wanted to gag. She rolled her eyes as he ended the call.

“You still haven’t spoken to her?” she asked, when he finally turned toward her.

Po took a seat and loosened his necktie as he leaned back in the plush leather chair. “She won’t return my calls.”

“The last time I called her she said that she wanted to move on. I don’t know a woman who can stay away from the man she loves. It’s been two weeks, Po. I don’t think she
wants
to come back,” Dahlia said sympathetically. In truth, she had not spoken to Liberty since the day that she had moved out, but she was willing to say anything to put a wedge between the couple.

“I saw the transfers into the account. I take it everything went as planned?” Po asked.

Dahlia walked into the room and sat in the chair in front of his desk. “Everything went perfectly,” she said.

“Shit is crazy. I just made a $1,000,000 in a week,” Po said. “Is this how Omega eats?”

“This is how kings eat, Po,” Dahlia replied. “You are a king.”

She stood and walked around to him. “We should celebrate,” she said as she grabbed his hands and pulled him out of his chair. “It would have taken you a month to make that much money from drugs. This calls for dinner . . . for drinks!”

“Nah, ma, I’m good,” Po rejected.

Dahlia pouted and put her hands on her hips. “Come on, Po. You have to get out of this funk you’re in. I’ve watched you walk around here in a bad mood since Liberty left. I just want you to come out and toast to the money you’re about to make,” she said, her eyes pleading sexily. “Please, Po. I’ve been in L.A. and have barely seen the city.”

Po lightened up and nodded his head. “A’ight, ma. Go get gorgeous and meet me downstairs in an hour.”

Po waited in the foyer and checked his Piguet wristwatch as he paced impatiently. Just as he was about to go get Dahlia, he looked up to find her standing at the top of the staircase.

Stunning was the only word to describe her. She looked like Miss America in a short, ivory, peplum cocktail dress that she accented with gold and diamonds. Her gold Jimmy
Choo six-inch peep toes accented her chocolate legs beautifully.

He was mesmerized for a moment and had to shake his head to come out of the trance she had put on him.

“You like?” Dahlia asked, holding her clutch under one arm.

Po nodded once and replied, “I like.” He held out his arm, and she descended the steps. She held onto him as he escorted her out of the house.

Po took her to Spago in Beverly Hills where they ate and drank like royalty. The ambiance in the restaurant was perfect for their celebration, and as they ate side by side, they looked more like a couple then friends. Po couldn’t help but think that Dahlia was the perfect woman.

“Let me ask you something, Dahlia. What do you think about me selling diamonds?” Po asked.

“I think that you are a businessman, Po, a very good one. I also think that a woman should support her man. You’re a provider; you should be appreciated. If you don’t sell them, then somebody else will. There will always be a market for diamonds, whether you choose to play or not. So why miss out on the money? It’s business not personal,” Dahlia replied. “I am from Sierra Leone, but I’m not a savior.”

She understood the game in which he played in and respected his position. He couldn’t always play the good guy. Sometimes he was the bad guy . . . the villain. He didn’t like it, but Dahlia understood that it was completely necessary.

“Omega is a lucky man,” Po said. The expensive cognac encouraged him to speak freely. Words were flowing from his mouth that he would have normally kept to himself. “There aren’t a lot of women who are strong enough to put up with men in our position.”