Power (6 page)

“You right, but I really don’t want Deion to know that I told you about this.”

“I get that, but this is bigger than your need to stay anonymous, Reggie. I sell drugs, but I’m not a drug dealer.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means my life is greater than this.  I’m playing this game to win. Not to lose. This is just a means to an end.”

Reggie admired how smart and shrewd Alex was. Though he didn’t know exactly what his comment meant, he liked the conviction he said it with.

“I want a family one day. Not a baby mama, but a wife and a kid,” Alex said wholeheartedly. “And when that happens, I’m gonna be out of this shit for good.”

“Okay, I understand.”

“So then you understand why I must confront Deion now before this shit get out of hand?”

“Yes, but if there is any way that you can leave my name out of it?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t mention your name.”

“But he’s gonna know that I told you.”

“Listen, I got this,” Alex reassured Reggie as he walked him to the door and let him out. Alex then made his way over to the window that had a sweeping view of Midtown. He stared out as he tried to call Tierney once again, but there was no answer.

*  *  *

“Damn this She-crab soup is delicious,” Deion said, as he ate the last bite. He loved the soup at Nordstrom’s, which is one reason he’d decided to meet Passion at the Cafe inside the Department store.

“Don’t lick the bowl,” Passion said, laughing.

“I know what I wanna lick,” Deion remarked jokingly, while staring at Passion. She wore a low-cut fuchsia blouse with a white designer scarf that gave her the right hint of sophistication mixed with sex appeal. The slight trace of lip gloss only added to her allure. Deion remembered she was gorgeous but he didn’t think she was this damn gorgeous.

“I thought you were going to be on your best behavior,” she smiled.

“You right. But seriously, if you weren’t here, I might have licked the bowl. That’s how good this soup is.”

“Don’t change things up because I’m here. Do what you normally do.”

“Since we’re supposed to be doing shit normally, you barely ate anything, just nibbled on a salad.”

“I’m trying to lose weight.”

“And if you lose that ass, lose my number.”

“Oh, all I am is an ass to you?”

“Let’s not forget the thighs, tits, and lips.” Passion looked annoyed by the words coming out of Deion’s mouth. “Come on, girl, you know I’m just kiddin’ wit’ you.”

“Whatever.”

“So what the hell is your real name?”

“It’s Passion.”

“Quit playin’ wit’ me, you know damn well your mom didn’t name you Passion. Passion removed her wallet then presented her driver license: It read Passion Morgan.

“Damn! Yo’ mother set you up to shake yo’ ass at the strip clubs.”

“Well I wouldn’t call it a setup,” she giggled, “but when I had to drop out of Georgia State, I needed to make money some kind of way.”

“I ain’t mad at you. We all gotta eat.”

“And what is it that you do, D? And what the hell does the D stand for?”

“DeMarcus,” he lied.

“Why are you lying?”

“I’m not lying.”

“Let me see your license.”

“Okay I’m lying.”

“Why you lying?“

“My name is Deion.”

“Why did you lie in the first place?”

“Well, it’s because I don’t know you yet. That’s all.”

“Well you know my name. You’re too good to give a stripper your name I guess.”

“No.”

“So what is it that you do, Deion?”

“I manage a couple of rappers and I have my own label.”

“You and every other hustler in Atlanta.”

“I don’t hustle.”

“Hustle is not a bad word and it doesn’t have to be an illegal hustle. That’s where people get it wrong.”

“That’s true.” He flagged the waitress and ordered another bowl of the She-crab soup.  “So when are you going to be my girlfriend?” Deion asked, after his soup came.

“How is that gonna benefit me?”

“So you have to be benefiting in order to be my girlfriend?” Deion questioned.

“Well, a girl needs help every now and then. I have a son to support. I told you that.”

“I understand that.”

“So what we gonna do about this?”

“Basically you looking for an arrangement?”

“I wouldn’t call it that, but I’m just saying, how is this gonna benefit me personally?”

“Come to New York with me next weekend,” Deion said, dropping his spoon on the table.

“Invite me.” She took a swig of her water.

He stared at her face and realized her eyes were the color of emeralds.  Why didn’t he notice that before? Maybe they were contacts, he thought. “I’m inviting you now,” he said, getting his thoughts back on topic. Before he could get her response his cellphone rang so he excused himself and stepped outside the cafe before answering.

“Hey motherfucker! That money you gave me was counterfeit.”

“Who is this?”

“Paris.”

“Who the fuck is Paris?”

“Nigga, you wanna play dumb now! You know damn well who I am!”

“From Onyx?”

“Damn straight from Onyx, nigga. You gave me counterfeit money.”

“Why don’t you quit lying,” he stated, wanting to get her the fuck off his phone.

“I ain’t gotta lie about a crummy-ass two thousand dollars.”

“Bitch, don’t call my phone no more.  He hung up and stepped back inside the café. He flagged down the waitress, paid her, then grabbed Passion and left the restaurant.

“I enjoyed myself,” Passion said when they got outside.

“Then I know you’ll have a good time if you come to New York with me,” Deion said, giving her a hug.

“Maybe, but what about my bag?”

“We’ll get you one in New York.”

“I’m going to hold you to it.”

“You good.” He handed her five hundred dollars. “This is for your son,” he said.

“You’re making a believer out of me.” Passion folded the money and smiled.

“Keep fuckin’ wit’ me and won’t nobody be able to shake yo’ faith. You’ll believe in me so much that whatever I say will go.”

“I think you a little too confident in yourself but you funny as fuck!”

“And sexy as fuck. Why don’t you admit it?”

“Maybe just a little bit,” Passion winked, and walked off.

Chapter 10

Switch Up

There was a gray Maserati parked in the driveway of a luxurious home in Gwinnett County. Danny Sullivan had asked Alex to meet him there at 4:45 p.m., but he got there five minutes early.  Alex noticed Danny driving up in his pickup truck. He jumped out of his car to greet him. “I thought you would have bought a new car by now,” Alex mocked, as the two men shook hands.

“The pickup truck is getting me around just fine.  I don’t need nothing fancy,” he said, nodding his head in the direction of the Maserati. “Hell, I’d have to buy a new wardrobe if I bought a car like that.”

Alex looked Danny over—same outfit as last time; jeans, boots, and that country-ass cowboy hat. “You really could use a new wardrobe,” Alex suggested, after doing a final inspection on his attire.

“What I got on is fine. Some people spend money on the wrong things,” Danny said, brushing Alex’s suggestion off.

“So whose car is it? I’ve seen those custom rims before.”

“The architect you saw a few weeks ago at the other property.”

Alex had to think back for a second. “Oh yeah, the one with the personalized tags on the red Porsche. I remember meeting him. He said he could design me and Tierney a custom home. Seemed like a nice guy. I still have his card.”

“Yeah Milton is a nice man and he’s done very well for himself.”

“So why did you wanna meet?”

“Well, I wanted to show you this home.”

“Why?” Alex inquired.

“Because this is another investment opportunity.”

“I’ve given you as much as I’m going to give you right now,” Alex said adamantly. Danny laughed and lit a cigarette. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I don’t smoke much. But I’m trying to phase ‘em all the way out of my life. Hell, if I don’t, they’re gonna phase me out of life.”

“That’s for damn sure.” Alex took a step back and fanned the smoke away. Danny dropped the cigarette and stomped it out.

“What I was trying to say was that this is more of a short-term goal.”

“Give me the details.”

“This house is going to sell for a million dollars, but I happen to know they are about to build a highway in the area and this house will probably be worth 1.5 mil in a year or so.”

“A year ain’t short-term to me.”

“Alex, buy the house, and I swear to you, you’ll be able to sell three months after you close for 1.3 million dollars. You’ll walk away with three hundred thousand dollars.”

“I don’t have another million dollars to give you.”

“You can finance. Give me a hundred thousand. I’ll get you financed for the rest. Once you sell, you’ll walk away with a very nice profit.”

“Are you sure?”

“Trust me.”

“So all I need to give you is a hundred thousand?”

“Yes, and I’ll get you a loan.”

The architect stepped out of the house and waved at Danny before jumping into the Maserati. He was a black man that appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties. When he got to the edge of the driveway, he stopped and rolled down the window. “The door is open if you still want to take a look inside.”

“Hey, I think I will,” Alex replied.

“Great. By the way, how’s everything going with you? I remember meeting you awhile back.”

“Everything’s good. I’m looking forward to seeing what you’ve done with this place.”

“Let me know what you think,” the architect said, before speeding off.

“So he designed this house. So far I’m impressed,” Alex stated coolly,

“Make that the entire subdivision,” Danny stated.

The home resembled a mini castle. What the architect was able to accomplish with his talent made Alex feel proud to be a black man. “Damn, he’s good.”

“The best in Atlanta. He flies all over the world designing homes for the rich and famous. Just got back from Ireland after designing a chateau for a couple over there.”

“That’s why he’s able to drive a Maserati?”

“Exactly!”

“I’m surprised he remembered me.”

“You and your girlfriend must’ve left an impression.”

“Tierney,” Alex said under his breath, as a feeling of sadness overcame him for a brief moment.

“Who?”

“Tierney, my ex-girlfriend.”

“Sorry to hear the two of you broke up.”

“I’m better off without her.”

“Are you really better off without her or are you just telling yourself that?”

“Trust me, I’m better off without her.”

“You ready to see what you’re investing in?”

“Let’s do it.” When Alex stepped inside the mansion, he instantly knew he would be calling this place home.

*  *  *

Deion was relaxing on his bed when he noticed Passion’s name come across his caller ID. “Hello,” he answered, actually looking forward to hearing her voice.

“Hey babe, you know you’re one funny-ass dude. Was that supposed to be a joke or something?”

“Huh?”

“That money you gave me was fake.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” he asked, rising up off the bed.

“Deion, you gave me some counterfeit money.”

Deion thought about what Paris had said earlier about the money being fake. Now Passion was saying the same thing. He highly doubted them chicks had orchestrated a scam together to try and swindle him, so there had to be some truth to it.

“Are you serious?”

“Dead serious, babe.”

“I swear I didn’t mean to fuck you, man. Let’s meet up later and I will replace the money.”

“No worries, you can just give it to me the next time we see each other.”

“Thanks for understanding.”

“Of course. I’m sure you’ll make it up to me in New York…right?”

“No doubt.”

When Deion ended the call with Passion he went straight to his closet and pulled out two shopping bags of money. He’d sold the eight that he’d gotten from the Mexicans to a little dude named DeMarco on the West Side. DeMarco’s money was in a Neiman Marcus shopping bag.  He’d left that bag in the closet because he’d seen Paris before he’d made the purchase from the Mexicans. The other shopping bag was a paper bag from Whole Foods. He’d gotten that money from J.D.  It was money he and Alex had divided up the night J.D. was in town. He removed a stack of hundreds from the bag, then went to the kitchen drawer and got a counterfeit pen. He ran the pen over ten one hundred dollar bills.

“What the fuck! I can’t believe this shit,” Deion said, tossing the bills down. “I know this nigga ain’t stupid enough to give us counterfeit money! I thought that motherfucker valued his life.” Deion immediately called Alex.

“What’s up,” Alex said, when he answered.

“We got problems.”

“What kind of problems?”

“That funky breath nigga J.D.”

“What about J.D.?”

“J.D. ain’t right man. I knew we shouldn’t have trusted his ass when he wanted a break.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Where are you?”

“I’m at home.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in a few minutes so we can talk face-to-face.”

Deion was at Alex’s front door so fast he barely had enough time to put some clothes on. “Must be serious for you to rush over like this,” Alex said when he opened the door to let Deion in.

“J.D. has fucked us good!” Deion said, with anger dripping from each word.

“How?”

“The money he gave us was counterfeit.”

“Counterfeit?”

Deion tossed a thousand dollars on the table “This is monopoly money!”

“That bitch-ass nigga. You positive it was J.D.?”

“Hell yes!” Remember when I left your house that night? I took a Whole Foods bag.”

“Yeah, I gave you that bag. And you didn’t put nobody else’s money in there?”

“Nope, just that motherfucker’s.”

Alex went in his bedroom to get the suitcase that J.D. had given him. He hadn’t even had a chance to touch the money. Alex pulled a stack of money. All hundreds. He went back into the living where Deion was waiting. He ran the counterfeit marker across the bills.

“See, it’s all fake,” Deion said through clenched teeth.

Alex dialed J.D.’s number.  It was out of service; it had been disconnected. “What the fuck!” Alex barked before slamming the phone down.