Commit to Violence (11 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Nick hadn’t slept much that day, and what little sleep he got was haunted by dreams of Wanda walking out on him. Her last words to him before she left his apartment that morning rang in his ears. "I really did love you, Nick, even though I never said it before now. I really did love you."

Although he always believed that Wanda loved him, there were times when he would have given anything to hear her say it. It hurt for those to be her last words. It felt like Wanda had stuck a knife in his gut and turned it. He felt bad about what he had done to Wanda, and at the same time, he didn’t feel bad about what he was doing with Rain. He didn’t feel for Rain the way he felt for Wanda, but there was something about Rain; something that made her and her sex irresistible.

Nick rolled out of bed and got ready to make his rounds. When he left his apartment, he got as far as Cynt’s. He sat down at the bar. "Johnny Black, and leave the bottle," Nick said and the bartender did as she was told. At one point Cynt tried to talk to him, but gave up when she got no answer to the question, "What’s bothering you?"

He knew that Cynt would hear about it sooner or later. He didn’t want her sympathy or her condemnation when he explained that Wanda had left him because he was fucking Rain.

While Nick was trying to drown his sorrows in Johnny Black, Bobby was at Cynt’s too. He came out of the back with one of the dancers on his arm. He handed her a bill and was about to leave when he saw Nick sitting at the bar.

Bobby walked over to him and sat down. "What’s up, Nick?"

"What’s up, Bobby," Nick said and drained his glass.

Bobby looked at him and then at the bottle. Nick picked up the bottle and poured himself another drink. Bobby signaled for the bartender to bring him a glass.

"Mind if I join you?" Bobby asked.

"Go ahead." Nick said. Bobby poured himself a drink and filled Nick’s glass. "What you doin’ here?" Nick asked.

"Gettin’ my dick sucked," Bobby said.

The two of them sat drinking in silence. Every now and then, Bobby would look around at the array of naked women dancing around the club. He knew all of them and had fucked most of them. Some came over and spoke, others just waved. One or two tried to make conversation, but Bobby quickly dismissed them. He picked up the bottle and poured him another. Then he refreshed Nick’s drink.

They sat quietly drinking through two more rounds before Bobby said something to Nick. "Something bothering you?"

"What makes you ask?" Nick replied and turned up his drink. He poured the last of the bottle into his glass. Bobby signaled for the bartender to bring another bottle. The bartender cracked the bottle open and poured Bobby another shot. By that time Nick had crushed his, and held out his glass for another.

"You drinkin’ like a man that got something on his mind that he doesn’t wanna deal with. When shit like that happens to me, I just say fuck it."

"Fuck it?"

"Yeah, fuck it."

"All right then," Nick said and raised his glass. "Fuck it." They both turned up their glasses and drained them.

"Now, don’t you feel better?"

"No."

"That’s because you didn’t mean it when you said it. See, for it to work you gotta say it and know that whatever it is that’s fuckin’ with you is something that you got no control over, for whatever reason, and then you say fuck it and put it behind you," Bobby said.

Nick looked at Bobby and shook his head. "Me and Wanda broke up."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Nick said poured another.

"What. She find out about you and Rain?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, well, that shit was bound to happen sooner of later."

"Was it?"

"Yeah, Nick, it was. I mean it ain’t like you were tryin’ real hard to keep that shit a secret. Too many mutha fuckas knew about it and some of those that did, talk to Wanda. Shit, Rain’s ass would say in a heartbeat that you were her man and that bitch Wanda can’t do shit to stop it."

"She did?"

"Heard her say that shit myself."

"I guess you’re right, so fuck it. Did I say it right?"

"Fuck you, Nick. The fact is that you ain’t the first nigga to get caught up with a good pussy havin’ young girl. The shit happened to me," Bobby said and thought about his relationship with Cat.

She was barely twenty-two and fine as hell. "Nice size titties, little-bitty waist, with a toot-booty that can stop traffic," Bobby told Nick. That body made her one of the most popular dancers at Cynt’s until she got fired for being late or not showing up at all.

It began while Black was living in the Bahamas and Wanda was losing her mind about Freeze letting things get rundown at Cuisine, and gettin’ sloppy with everything else. One night while Bobby was at Cynt’s checking up on Freeze, he introduced him to Cat and she danced for Bobby. "Damn that bitch could dance and she was cool. I wasn’t even tryin’ to fuck her. We would just hangout; talk shit, that’s it."

Nick thought back to the way things began with him and Rain. At the time he had no intention of fucking her. In fact, he didn’t even like her. But it happened anyway.

Bobby told Nick that after a while things with Cat began getting out of control. The longer it went on the more Cat was making it hard on his marriage to Pam. It had gotten to the point that Cat was calling the house and talking to Pam.

"After Cat made herself known to Pam and she did what she did to end it, I figured out the there wasn’t any woman worth losing Pam over."

"So what you doin’ here gettin’ your dick sucked?"

"I don’t know if you know this, but Pam and I don’t have sex anymore."

"I didn’t know that? I mean I heard you say that Pam understands that if she isn’t gonna give you any pussy that somebody is, but I thought it was just some shit you was tellin’ Wanda to get her off your back."

"Nope. She feels like she can be a good wife and mother to our children, but Pam doesn’t feel like she can bring herself to have sex with me after what happened. Things really got wild with Cat. That’s why I come here, get what I came to get and go home. I ain’t got no feelings for none of these ho’s and they ain’t got none for me. And I like it that way. They’re just a place to bust a nut in. I get what I want, they get what they want," Bobby said. He didn’t think that Nick needed to know that Pam wanted a divorce because of his relationship with Ivillisa Ortiz.

"Simple."

"This way nobody gets hurt, ’cause nobody’s feelings are involved. I let Cat get off-the-chain, just like you doin’ with Rain."

"I see that now."

"Mind if I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead?"

"I always wondered what the attraction was. I hope you don’t get mad behind me sayin’ this, I know she got body for days, but Rain ain’t the prettiest mutha fucka in world."

Nick laughed a little and shrugged his shoulders. "She ain’t, is she?"

"No she ain’t."

"There’s more to Rain than just her looks. I like being around her for some reason."

"Want me to tell you why?"

"Yeah, go ahead."

"I see how Rain carries it. She is all gangster; all the time."

"Damn sure is."

"That’s part of why you like being around her," Bobby said and Nick didn’t quite get it. "When I used to hang out with Cat, it wasn’t like being with Pam. Cat was funny, she talked big shit and would do wild shit just for the fun of it."

"She was everything that Pam isn’t."

"Exactly. And if you had to find a woman who was the exact opposite of Wanda, Rain is definitely the one."

"I see your point," Nick said and poured another drink.

"I wouldn’t worry too much about that shit, Nick. Shit will work itself out and Wanda will be back," Bobby said and had another drink.

"I don’t think so, Bobby."

"Why not?"

"There’s more to it than just me fuckin’ Rain."

"What else?"

"Without me knowing it, Rain has been dealin’."

"That’s not good. Mike know about that?"

"You tell me?"

"Far as I know he don’t. We been too busy with business."

"Now somebody’s been robbin’ and killin’ her dealers. So the last couple of days I been with her tryin’ to find out who it is and squash it before it goes any further. But Wanda was lookin’ for me and wanted to know where I’d been the last few days."

"Damn."

"Even if she believed I wasn’t fuckin’ her, if I told Wanda what I’ve been doin’—"

"She’d tell Mike about Rain and you don’t want that."

"Especially now that we got this arrangement with Angelo and Stark. And to make matters worse, I think she’s buyin’ from Stark."

Bobby grabbed the bottle. "I see why you’re sittin’ here gettin’ fucked up." He poured himself a drink.

"Good, I’m glad you understand." Nick took the bottle from Bobby and poured himself another drink.

"What you gonna do?"

"Bobby, I don’t know. But whatever I do it won’t be today."

"Whatever you decide to do, if you need me for anything, I’m there for you," Bobby said and raised his glass.

"Thanks Bobby. That means a lot."

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Black and Victor were on their way to the apartment of Jada West. In a very short time, Ms. West was running one of the top escort services in the city.

It began when she was working a job at a market research company, scrambling for money, and dodging the landlord. Jada’s life began to change when she stopped to pick up a two-piece snack from Fat Larry’s, and she stopped to admire a royal blue drop-top Beamer with baby blue leather and wood panel interior. Jada wondered if she’d ever see the day when she could afford shit like that.

"Jada, that you girl?" the driver asked.

When she snatched off her shades and pulled her hat’s brim back, Jada’s mouth dropped. "Diane?"

Diane and Jada worked together at the marketing company for nearly a year. "You ain’t gonna make any real money punchin’ no damn clock. I can tell you that much for sure. Are you ready to make some real paper?" she asked.

"Girl, you just don’t know," Jada said.

"I dance at this little club called Ecstasy on Friday and Saturday nights," she said calmly. "Say what you want, but I never leave with any less than five hundred dollars a night," Diane said. Jada let the figure roll around in her head. For two night’s worth of work, Diane made one thousand dollars? That’s almost triple what Jada made for working eighty hours.

"I don’t know, Diane. I just don’t think I could do that in front of a bunch of horny men."

"I’m tellin’ you, you could make a grip. You got a bomb-ass body too. Them titties and that ass, I’m tellin’ you, girl, you sleepin’ on your best money makers!"

After three weeks at Ecstasy, Jada became Miss Kitty. She waltzed out on stage dressed in a short, tight leather miniskirt with a garter belt, black fishnet stockings, black leather bra, and a long pair of black gloves. The final touch was a small and elegant silk mask. Within two months time, Miss Kitty had her own small but generous following.

Jada was invited to dance at a private party for a rapper called The One. It was the night that changed her life forever. Later that night, Jada was introduced to The One. "You a bad mutha fucka, you know that?" The One said to Jada.

"Thank you," she purred modestly.

"I wanna fuck you."

"It’ll cost you," Jada said.

"You ain’t said shit to me, mommy," The One said. "Why don’t I double what you usually charge? I always gets what I want."

Jada thought The One was fine as hell, but since she wasn’t plannin’ on fuckin’ him or anybody else in there, she decided to get ridiculous. "Two grand," Jada said quickly, thinking that he would say she was crazy.

"Why don’t we make it three," The One said and her eyes lit up. Jada saw herself as a dancer and an entertainer, not a ho. Most of the other dancers were letting drunk-ass niggas fuck them cheap. Jada had taken pride in the fact that she wasn’t that kind of dancer. But three grand just to fuck him, Jada knew that she couldn’t turn down that kind of money.

When it was over, and it didn’t last very long, Jada felt used.
Probably because I have been used,
Jada thought on her way to the elevator. But at the same time, she was smiling inside at the money she’d just made in less than five minutes, and Jada wondered who really used who. She began to think about how easy that actually was as opposed to what she was doing dancing at the club. She knew if she busted her ass and hustled all night, she could make a grand, maybe more on a good night. But Jada had just made three times that amount and barely broke a sweat.

When the elevator stopped on the twenty-sixth floor, a woman stepped into the elevator. "My name is Sasha Deverox." When Sasha told Jada that she was an escort, Jada knew Sasha was somebody she needed to get to know better. The way she was dressed, the way she carried herself, Jada knew being an escort was a much better hustle than stripping.

Sasha offered to let Jada work under her until she felt comfortable going out on her own. Under Sasha’s tutelage Jada learned how to walk, talk and dress like a lady. When that day came for Jada to go out on her own, she met with Sasha. "You think you’re ready to fly solo? Is that what you think you wanna tell me?"

"I think I’m ready. No, I know I’m ready."

"Look at you, Jada. All dressed up tryin’ to be a lady. Do you remember who you were when I met you? You couldn’t talk, you could barely walk without falling on your face, and you definitely had the most ghetto taste in clothes," Sasha laughed and Jada wanted to kick her ass. "I made you," Sasha leaned forward and said sternly. "It was me who taught you how to walk without falling; how to talk without having to end every sentence with a cuss word. And it was me who taught you how to dress like a lady. I taught you all those things. If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be shakin’ your ass at that dive. I made you, Jada," she said again, but this time she stuck her finger in Jada’s face. "Never forget that."

"No, Sasha," Jada said to her. "I won’t forget any of that." Although she hated to admit it, Sasha was absolutely right about her.

Then Sasha smiled. "Stop looking like that." Her smile turned into laughter. "I was just playing with you. Listen, honey, I am so proud of you and the way you handle yourself now. Jada, you have come so far. You’ve been ready to fly solo for a long time."

Sasha was Jada’s madam. Even though she hated the word, she was her pimp. That’s where the money was, not laying on her back with her legs in the air. Jada was giving Sasha two, sometimes three grand a week. "If I were to get a couple of girls working for me, I could pull in five, six grand a week."

From there, Jada put together her team: Diane, Bella and Simone. Their target group was the new rich—the ones who just stumbled into money—the ones who don’t quite know how to act now that they had it.

"Ballers," Diane said.

"I’m talking about music industry insiders, rappers, music producers, actors, movie and television producers, and of course ballers," Jada told her new team. And from there Jada West worked her way to the top.

It was 8:00 p.m. sharp when Black and Victor arrived at Jada’s apartment. They went up in the elevator and Black rang the bell.

"What do you want me to do?" Victor asked.

"You wait here. Make sure nobody comes in on me," Black said.

"Just stand here; that’s it?"

"That’s it," Black said as Jada opened the door. As she always did every time he saw her, Jada looked phenomenal. She was dressed in a black Herve Leger armor trim dress with a single strap across the shoulder and a string of pearls.

"Good evening, Mr. Black," Jada said and smiled.

"Good evening, Ms. West."

"Please come in," she said and stepped to the side to let him pass.

Black walked in the apartment and looked around. "Very nice place you have here, Ms. West."

"Thank you, Mr. Black. Please have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?"

"Thank you," Black said and watched Jada as she walked toward the bar to fix his drink. He liked Jada—admired her style. Aside from being one of the most beautiful women he had ever met, Jada West had class.

Jada returned with his drink and sat down next to him. "Rémy Martin VSOP, right?"

"You remembered. I cannot help but be touched. But in your business, I’m sure little things like that are part of the job," Black said and Jada smiled.

"That’s true, but I think it’s more than that. I want to remember the things that are important to you."

"So what I drink is important to you?"

"You’re a very important man, Mr. Black. For more reasons than just business. Everything about you is important to me."

"You flatter me, Ms. West."

"You don’t have to be so formal, Mr. Black, you can call me Jada."

"Why don’t I just call you Miss Kitty," Black said.

Jada giggled and as she usually did, Black enjoyed the sound of it and the smile that came with. "Nobody has called me that in years," she said and thought back to the night she met Black. It was the same night she met The One.

Black was sitting at a table in the corner with the club’s manager, Bruce-Bruce, when he caught Jada’s eye. She was just about to make her way over there when she was surrounded by three men hollering, "Miss Kitty, Miss Kitty," and dropping money at her feet. Without taking her eyes off Black, Jada took off her outfit and went to work. When the song ended, Jada picked up her money and went back to the dressing room.

When she returned to the floor, Jada looked around the club for Black, but she didn’t see him. Jada was startled when a deep and sexy voice said, "Miss Kitty, right?"

"That’s me."

"I enjoyed watching you dance," Black said.

"Thanks. You a friend of Bruce-Bruce?"

"I guess you could say that."

"I haven’t seen you here before, so I guess you’re part of The One’s entourage."

Jada remembered that Black flashed a smile and she got wet. "Not exactly. I own the company that manages The One."

"Oh really," Jada said, knowing that Black was somebody she needed to know. They talked for a minute after that, and then Black left the party.

Black looked at Jada and smiled. It had the same effect on her that it had the first time. Her mind began to drift but she caught herself. She had important business to discuss with Black. When her issues were behind her, then she could think about indulging her passion. "No, Mr. Black, I think I’d prefer it if you called me Jada. I left Miss Kitty back at the club years ago."

"Okay, Jada it is, but only if you call me Mike."

"I’d like that," Jada smiled and Black thought about how much he wanted to strip her out of that Herve Leger black dress and bend her over the closet piece of furniture, but he remembered that she invited him there to talk business.

Black took a sip of his drink. "So, tell me, Jada, what did you want to see me about?"

"I have a problem that I need your help with," Jada began.

"What can I do for you?"

"You see, there’s this guy that’s trying to shake me down."

"What do you mean, tryin’ to shake you down?" Black asked even though he had a good idea.

"It began about a month ago. One of my girls was out with a client. After they had sex and she got ready to leave, he beat her up."

"Was she hurt badly?" Black asked and finished his drink.

"Bad enough that she couldn’t work for a couple of weeks until her wounds healed. A week later the same thing happened again. Same pattern, new client, took the girl someplace secluded, beat her after sex," Jada said and took Black’s glass from his hand. She went to the bar to refresh his drink. "A few days later I was at The Pen-Top Bar & Terrace inside the Peninsula Hotel having dinner with a potential client, when this man sits down at the table with us," Jada said as she poured.

"What did he want?"

"Once he scared off the client, he told me that he was my new partner," Jada returned with the drink and handed it to Black. "He said that he was responsible for what had happened to my girls, and if I wanted it to stop that I would give him twenty percent."

"What did you tell him?"

Jada laughed. "I basically told him to kiss my ass, and I got up and left."

"Since we’re having this conversation, I take it that it didn’t stop there."

"No. I figured if we tightened up and did a better job of screening our clients that at least the girls would be safe, and I would deal with this clown and his threats. But then he began catching them before they got to the clients or after they were finished."

"Your girls don’t have security?"

"Some do. They have men that drive them to their appointments and pick them up afterwards, but he targeted the ones that don’t have any type of security. He came here last night and caught me in the elevator."

"He didn’t hurt you did he?"

"No. He just wanted to make his point and scare me."

"What he say?"

"Same thing; my problems go away for twenty percent."

"Don’t you have security?"

"No."

"Maybe you should get some," Black advised.

"No," Jada insisted. "I don’t need security. I need Mike Black," she said and moved close to him.

"Me? Why you think you need me?"

"Do I really need to answer that question?"

"No. Not really. I get the point. So, if take care of this guy for you, what makes you think that I wouldn’t want twenty percent of your business?"

"Because you’d be doing me a favor. You know, like the one I did for you not too long ago."

"I see."

"I was talking to James Fremeno. You remember the reporter from the New York Post that I set out for you."

"How’s he doing?"

"He said that he wanted to thank me for putting him in touch with Miss Collins, because the story she gave him was inline to win some award for reporting."

"The Tom Renner Award for Crime Reporting."

"Was that what it was?" Jada giggled. "Then he told me that the guy the articles were about ended up getting murdered in Mexico. A DEA agent; Peter J. Vinnelli, I believe his name was."

"I see you’ve been checkin’ up on me, Ms. West?"

"Jada, please, call me Jada," she said and smiled at Black. "But, no, I’m not checking up on you. It’s like I told you, you’re a very important man, Mike Black. And I try to know important things about important men."

"How do you wanna come outta this?"

"With this guy off my back and me not owing you twenty percent of my business," Jada said quietly.

"How’d you leave it with him?"

"He said he would be back here tomorrow afternoon, and he’ll expect my answer."

"What time tomorrow?"

"He didn’t say."

Black looked at Jada for what seemed to her like a long time. "Okay. I’ll see what I can do for you."

"That’s the best I could ask for," Jada said.

"What’s this guy’s name?"

"He said his name was Mushnikov
. I think that’s how it’s pronounced."

"Oleg Mushnikov
?" Black asked.

"I believe so. Do you know him?"

"Yeah, I know Oleg. We’re not exactly what you’d call friends, but I do know him," Black said and laughed a little. "You mind if I use your phone?"