RedBone 2 (7 page)

“Can you help me find her?” she asked, looking from him to her. “Eleanor.”

“Farah, we been looking for this bitch for the past three weeks,” Shadow admitted. “Now, either she disappeared, left town, or is already dead.”

She wasn’t relieved.

“No matter what, we won’t stop looking for her, and when we do, we gonna put something in her head.”

Farah grinned. “Okay, so now that I have your help, I can go out and take care of myself. I promise not to get caught.” She looked up at them with wide eyes. “I’ve killed many and I’ve never gotten caught.”

Mia and Shadow looked at each other in shock.

“Trust me. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m so tired of this Elizabeth Báthory shit.” Shadow stood up.

“Who’s that?” Farah inquired.

“Look it up,” he said angrily as he exited.

“He’ll get over it,” she said, trying not to cry. She didn’t want her brother to be angry with her and hoped eventually he would change. “He just needs some time.”

Mia sighed. “Farah, it looks like you have your mind made up, so what you gonna do?” She sat on the toilet lid.

“I want to go see Slade. I need to see if he still loves me.”

Mia shook her head. “That’s a bad idea. But do what you have to do.”

The only thing Farah wanted was to plead her love to Slade, in the hopes that he would take her back. So she took a bath, put on her prettiest red sweater dress, and drank half a bottle of vodka. Once dressed, she slathered makeup on her face. It was a half-assed job and she could still see splotches on her skin, but for now it would have to do. When she was as presentable as possible, she walked down the hallway toward Markee’s.

On the way to his apartment, she saw a beautiful Asian girl and a black guy carrying a brown box. They smiled and waved at her, but she ignored them. Although she didn’t give them the time of day, they continued to stare at her, until she walked up to Markee’s apartment and knocked on the door. Something was off about them.

When the door finally opened, Audio examined her with a brown bottle of liquor in his hand. He could barely stand up, and the Hennessy orchestrated every move he made. “If you here, you must got information on my brother.” His words slurred despite being slightly coherent. “If you don’t, turn around and get the fuck outta here before I break your face.”

Farah stepped back because Audio’s eyes told her he meant business. “I don’t know about you putting your hands on me, but since we talking about family, let’s talk about the fact that you killed my sister, all because you couldn’t drive a car. What about that, Audio? Huh?”

“Bitch, I will kill you if you ever come at me like that again!” He stepped out into the hallway. “I loved Chloe!” He pointed at himself with the hand gripping the bottle and liquor splashed everywhere. “And I never got a chance to tell her that shit before she was taken from me.”

Farah’s voice softened seeing the pain in his eyes. “And nobody ever questioned it before now, but you better give the same respect when it comes to Slade. I would never,
ever,
do anything that would hurt him or his brother.” She lied so much that she really forgot she killed Knox and sucked his blood. “I can’t even grieve for my sister because he’s on my mind. I just want to talk to him.”

Audio splashed the liquor into his mouth and walked backward into the apartment. The door remained open and five minutes later, Slade swaggered to the door. He wore the same blank expression he always did. Still he looked different. The black Chopard watch on his arm with the leather band made a statement . . . he was a dope boy.

I see you doing good from the robbery I helped set up,
she thought. She remembered when he first dropped into DC and was broke. Now he made a come up, and it was partially because she helped them rob Randy by keeping him busy.

He looked her over, and she immediately felt self-conscious. “What do you want, Farah?”

“Can we talk?” She peered into the house and saw that everyone inside was staring in her direction. “In private?”

Della walked out of the kitchen, wearing a red apron and holding a knife in her hand. The way she held on to it made Farah shiver.

“It ain’t much we need to talk about. I don’t even know why you came around here.”

“Slade, dinner is almost done,” Della told him. “How about you say good-bye to your friend and have dinner with your family.”

“Give me a second, Ma,” he said, slightly annoyed by his mother’s intrusion. He turned back to Farah. “I gotta go.” He went to close the door and she blocked him.

“Please, Slade.” She held the door. “I sucked your dick, fucked you raw, and you told me you loved me to my face.” His eyes popped open and he looked back to see if his mother was still there. She was. “The least you can do is give me five minutes of your time. I deserve that much.”

Not wanting the audience to hear their raunchy adventures, he rushed into the hallway and closed the door behind him. “Why would you come at me like that?” he whispered heavily. “With my mother inside the house?”

“Because I knew that was the only way you would close the door and talk to me. I’m sorry,” she apologized. “How come you didn’t see about me when I lost my sister?”

“I knew you were okay,” he said in a low voice.

“How?”

“I asked your grandmother when she came by one day.”

Although it wasn’t the answer she wanted, it felt good that he at least cared.

“Is that all you wanted to know?”

“Who are them bitches who be at your house all the time?” she asked as if she still had the right. “The last thing I know was we were together.”

“I’m not about to argue with you about what I do in my spare time, Farah.”

“I want to be with you, Slade, and if we not together, the least you can do is tell me you are seeing other people.”

“I’m seeing plenty of people.” His words were cold, but his voice told her his heart felt something different. “You need to move on without me, Farah. I’m not good for you anymore.”

“That’s a lie!” She hit him in the chest. “And you know it!”

He walked into the hallway and leaned up against the wall. “Why are you doing this shit? Right now?” He paused. “Go home and be with your family.”

“I spent three weeks with my family, but they’re not the ones leaving me,” Farah cried. “I’m worried about our relationship! What can I do but beg you, Slade? If there’s any other way to let you know how much I love you, I’m willing to go there. Just say the word.”

Silence.

Slade pushed off of the wall, stood over her, and looked into her eyes. “Farah, we over. I know it’s fucked up, but it’s best we split. It’s for your safety.”

There was nothing more in the world he wanted to do than be with her, but their relationship seemed to exacerbate the situation that Knox was still missing. He knew the things Judge and Grant were capable of. He could recount many stories where people who had beef with the Bakers went missing. At one point they were even considering putting them on Sheriff Kramer, but knew they needed him to stand trial for what he’d done. At the end of the day, Slade figured if they weren’t together, she’d be out of harm’s way and protected.

“It’s over, Farah.”

“I can’t accept anything you’re saying to me right now.” She shook her head.

“You don’t have a choice. Now, get the fuck out of here, because the next time I see you, all I’m trying to hear is that you found Eleanor.”

“If you leave me, a lot of people will die.”

His eyebrows rose. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Just what I said.” She looked up at him with a tearful stare. “Are you sure you want to be responsible for that?”

“Do whatever you need to do. Just stay from around here.”

Thinking she was saying anything out of her mouth to convince him to stay, he responded by slamming the door in her face.

Whatever she did after that moment, whoever she killed, was all on him.

She wiped the last tears away and decided to be the best monster she could be. She was awful at love, but there was one thing in the world she was good at, and she decided to do it.

When Farah got into her car, she could tell right away that Mia and Shadow put some work into it when she turned the engine on, because it wasn’t making the noise. Before pulling off, she remembered what Shadow said earlier in the bathroom about being tired of the Elizabeth Báthory shit. She decided to check the Internet from her cell to see who she was.

She remained in her car for thirty minutes, captivated by her story. She immediately felt a kinship with the former real-life countess from Hungary who reigned in the 1,500s. The only difference between them was that Báthory chose to bathe in the blood of her victims to maintain her beauty, while Farah chose to drink it.

Whether Shadow knew it or not, discovering that a person was alive who participated in the same kinds of crimes did nothing but validate her. What a sick combination.

Two cars behind her was a truck full of Baker cousins with Killa in the driver’s seat. He was waiting for her to make a move, and now that she was on her feet, he would not let her out of his sights.

 

 

The cool night air made her feel powerful as she strolled into the Smoke Shop. The honeyed fragrance wasn’t offensive, nor did it exacerbate her illness. In fact it was refreshing and made her horny. The stylish brown leather jacket clung to the waves of her breasts, and her cleavage puffed out at the top ever so slightly. There wasn’t a man in sight who wasn’t lusting after Farah Cotton.

“Damn, beautiful. You wearing that dress, aren’t you?” a short man said, pimping toward her. Every tooth in his mouth was yellow or chipped, and not a thing was attractive about him.

Farah enjoyed blood, but she preferred her victims to be attractive. She couldn’t imagine putting her lips anywhere near his dehydrated skin.

“Can I take you out? As a matter of fact, can I lick that pussy dry?”

She frowned when she smelled the scent of the rotten teeth in his mouth. “You can’t do nothing for me but get up out my face.” In need of separation, she strolled up to a black-and-silver hookah lamp. She wasn’t looking to make a purchase, just looking the part.

“Damn, baby,” Death Mouth continued, grabbing her softly by the elbow, “you can at least show some respect. I’m trying to show you how a real man can make you feel, and you giving me neck. What’s up with that shit?”

She spun around and glared at him. “Look, nigga, I’m doing you a favor by carrying the fuck out of you. You don’t know what kind of person I can be.”

“So what is a pretty thing like you gonna do to me? Kill me?”

Silence.

He took the walk of shame out of the shop. Farah sighed.

 

 

“My man, come here for a second,” Killa said when he saw Mr. Rotten Tooth exit the shop.

“Do I know you?” He frowned.

“Naw, but you might know him,” he said, flashing a fifty dollar bill.

Broke and busted, he strolled over to Killa’s black Suburban. “What’s up?” he asked, looking at the four niggas in the truck.

“Is a bitch with the red dress inside there?” Killa asked him.

Irritated that she shot him down, he said, “Yeah, that slut up in there, acting like she too good for a nigga and shit.”

“She look like she coming out anytime soon?”

“Naw, if you ask me she looks like she waiting for something or somebody.”

Killa nodded. “Thanks, man.” He dapped him up and gave him the bill. “We appreciate it.”

When he walked away, Killa’s cousin from Jersey said, “So what we gonna do now? Go up in there and kidnap the bitch?”

“No.” Killa shook his head. “We gonna try to get up in her car first to see if we can find anything. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll push to plan B.”

 

 

After bullshitting around the shop a little longer, it didn’t take Farah long to spot a six foot tall sexy nigga. He took his brown gloves off and stuffed them inside the pockets of his black peacoat. His brown face was speckled with a few moles, and luckily for Farah, instead of the cigars, he was coming straight for her. She whipped her bone-straight hair over her shoulder and braced herself. Before he mumbled a word, she knew he would taste sweet. Trying to play a little hard to get, she picked up a pack of strawberry tobacco to give him a hard time.

Greeting her back instead of her face didn’t spoil his confidence one bit. He strolled into her space, giving her nowhere to move but against him. From the shine of the hookah lamp to the right, she saw the reflection of his face. He was perfect. “You know you gonna be my wife, right?”

She whirled around to face him and beamed. “As bad as I look? You still want a girl like me?”

He looked her over. “In my opinion you are perfect.”

“Don’t say stuff you don’t mean, because I take marriage very seriously.” She touched her imperfect face. “Once you have me, you stuck with me for life.”

He nodded, loving her already. “For life, huh?” He grinned. “As fine as you are, that’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

“You laying it on very thick, ain’t you?” She surveyed the store. “I mean, ain’t you supposed to be in here buying some cigars, or hookah stuff?” She waved the pack of strawberry tobacco. “You looking at me like I’m on the shelf.”

“And you love it, too.” He considered the curvature of her body. “Besides, when I see something I want, I jump at it. I’m not about wasting my time or yours.” He paused and looked at her cleavage. “Is your boyfriend in here?” He looked around. “’Cause I know somebody’s claiming you.”

Thinking of Slade made her feel guilty, but he made his decision and she was going to do her. Besides, the man in front of her wouldn’t be around long enough to cause serious problems anyway. “I’m single, so my only question to you is, what are you gonna do about it?”

“I have a few ideas,” he admitted. “That is if you not too busy for a nigga today.”

“I think I have a little time. But I have one question.”

He nodded for her to proceed.

“Can I make you famous?”

He chuckled. “Hold up, what you mean about that?”

“The question requires a yes or no answer. Can I make you famous?”

Farah believed in giving her victims a right to decide before she killed them and took their blood. If they said no, she’d leave them to it, but if they said yes, it would mean their lives.

“As long as you let me take you out of here, you can make me anything you want. And that’s on my mother,” he told her.

That was one thing she loved about men. They always seemed to walk into the trap and lock the gate behind them. “Before we do all of that, you have to tell me your name.”

“Floyd, but honestly, you can call me anything you want.” He was on a roll, but she loved it. “What’s your name, beautiful?”

“Farah Cotton.”

“Now, that’s a name.” He took her hand into his.

She grinned. “Glad you like it. So where we going?”

“Wherever you allow me to take you.”

“Lead the way,” she said softly.

 

 

As Farah followed his white Honda, she noticed something was off in her car. Things were placed differently than they were before. And then her scalp seemed to tighten. Someone had been in her car.

“Oh my God! The picture! I left the picture in the trunk.” She needed to check the trunk, but lust and blood were on her mind too.

Nervously, she followed Floyd, with plans to check her car the moment they parked. Looking out of her rearview mirror every so often, she was trying to be sure she wasn’t being followed. Nothing appeared to be out of place, but her mind was so wrecked, she couldn’t be sure.

After some time, what she did notice was how drastically the environments changed. One minute she was in a ritzy part of Maryland, and the next minute she was parking in one of the most violent areas of DC. She was no stranger to the hood, but it was unexpected for a man like him. Floyd looked like he played basketball overseas, but she wondered if he was a dope boy instead.

He parked his car and rushed toward her Benz to open the door. “You cool? Because you look out of it.”

Farah popped the trunk, stepped out, and rushed toward it. It didn’t take long to find what she was looking for. There, under the spare tire, was the picture of Knox. Looking behind her, she ripped it up into a million pieces and stuffed it inside her purse.

“It didn’t work, mothafuckas!” she yelled into the night. “Do you hear me? It didn’t work.”

Floyd stepped back and asked, “Are you okay?”

Realizing she looked beyond crazy, she said, “Yes . . . uh . . . It’s a long story.” She didn’t know who was in her car, or even how they got inside without popping the locks, but she grinned, realizing that she’d won.

“Well, you want to go inside and grab a drink?”

“Lead the way.”

A little calmer, she observed the run-down apartment building before her. Green moss ran up and down the bricks, and it creeped her out. If there was anything she despised, bugs and grossness were it. “Yeah, I guess.” She shrugged, rubbing her arms. “You live here?”

“For now.” He grabbed her hand. “But come on in, sexy. Let me get you inside before you catch a cold.”

Reluctantly she accompanied him up a set of dank-smelling steps and to a blue door. Although the hood was alive outside, the inside was on some VIP shit. A large, plush sofa sat against the wall, and a beautiful mahogany table sat in the middle of the living room. It smelled sweet and fresh, but not strong enough to worsen her illness.

Floyd removed his black peacoat and assisted her out of her leather. “Damn, you sexy as shit. And I love them shoes.”

She grinned, wiggled her black steel-toed pump, and posed. “Glad I could make you happy already.”

“I can’t lie, you did that the moment I saw your face. And them hips.”

“I love compliments, even though I see you keep looking at my spotty face.”

“The last thing I’m thinking about is your face.” He winked.

“So thank you,” Farah told him.

He was so excited that for a moment, she felt sorry she was going to kill him.

“Don’t thank me. I just love a bitch with a mean shoe game.” He paused. “You drink merlot?”

“Sure.” She dropped her purse on the table and fell onto his sofa. If she had to, she could certainly see living there. “As clean as this place is, you got to have a girlfriend.”

“Why you say that?” He popped the cork on a bottle of wine. “Because I keep my place up?”

She raised her eyebrows.

“I’m gonna be real with you. You know I got somebody. Just like I know you do. You here now, so there ain’t no need in playing no more games. We both ain’t shit.”

She giggled. “So all that shit in the store about me being wifey was game?”

“What you think?” He giggled. “And about my place being nice, even if I didn’t have a bitch, I’d keep a fly place.”

“And you don’t have a problem bringing me here, knowing you got somebody in your life?” She was beginning not to like him, and it was always easier killing someone she disliked. “Because I know she wouldn’t like what you’re doing.”

“We haven’t done anything yet.”

“You just like the rest of the niggas out there. Always want to fuck a bitch, play with her heart, and dump her when you get yours. One day niggas like you gonna be extinct, Slade. Just remember that shit.”

He didn’t know what caught him more off-guard: the name slip-up or what she said to him. “My name isn’t Slade. I knew something was wrong with you after you yelled at nobody outside.” Farah’s crazy slid out, and now he was nervous.

“I meant Floyd.”

“Who is Slade?” He paused. “Your man?”

“I said it was a mistake.”

“Look, what I do with my bitch is my business, and what you do with your nigga is yours. All I want is to spend some time with you and maybe put a smile on your face. Is that gonna be enough for you or what?”

She shrugged. “I’m here, ain’t I?”

“Good.” He handed her a glass of wine and held on to his glass.

“So tell me about yourself,” Farah said, sipping her drink. “Well, what you want me to know anyway.”

“Okay, I’m an engineer and I love to fuck and have a good time,” he said.

I can’t wait to kill your ass.
“Anything else?”

“You want more, huh?” He chuckled, “Well, I’m real close to my family.”

“You got a big family?”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “But my sister is dying of cancer and my mother is losing her mind because of it.” Suddenly he wasn’t cocky. “That’s why I smoke so much weed, just to clear my mind. I stay at the Smoke Shop getting blunts and shit. I’m surprised I haven’t seen you around there before.”

Something about what he said put her on pause. “When you say you’re close to your family, do you mean
really
close?”

“I’ll put it like this, if it wasn’t for my family, I’d be dead or in jail right now, so I take them very seriously. I talk to my family every day, and that’s not an overstatement. I put nothing above them, including my girlfriend. That’s one of the reasons we fight so much and I fuck around on her. She don’t understand the bond I have with my family, and I can’t understand why she don’t get along with hers. If Chloe dies though, I’m gonna lose it.”

“Your sister’s name is Chloe?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Farah downed her glass of wine and stood up. “I’m out of here.” She slammed the glass on the table, threw her jacket on, and snatched her purse. “It’s been real, but I have things to do.” It was easy to kill him when she believed he was selfish and thought only of himself, but now she discovered that he loved his family and that their sisters shared the same name. Because of it, she would spare him.

“Wait, where you going?” He approached her at the door and put his hand on it to prevent it from opening. “We haven’t done nothing yet.”

When she grabbed the doorknob, he yanked her by the elbow. “So you the type of bitch who like to play games? Come over a nigga’s house, drink his wine, ask about his girlfriend, and bounce?” He frowned a little. “Wait, you know my girlfriend Candace or something? You one of her friends?”

“I’m trying to leave, Floyd. You really need to allow me.”

“If you were in prison playing these games, you would already be on your knees with my nuts in your mouth.”

Farah grinned. “You so stupid you don’t even know when you’ve been spared.” She shook her head. “I’m giving you back your life, Floyd, but if you don’t get away from this door, you gonna find out what I really came for.”

He stood at the door for a second until he recognized her glare. He’d been in jail long enough to know when a nigga was bluffing. She was not playing. He released her arm and she switched out of the door and on to her next victim.