Luxe (31 page)

“This ain't nothing to share,” Bleu replied. She pulled out more money and started to walk over to the guy who had just served Lady.

Lady stopped her. “Un-uh! What you doing? He don't know you like that,” Lady said.

Bleu sighed in exasperation as she handed Lady $200 more. She played the back while Lady copped and then followed her back down the alley. “We can go back to my car,” Bleu suggested.

“Nah, not out here. You fire that shit up in your car and the police gone break up the party. I've got a little room,” Lady stated, leading the way.

Bleu followed her, a little jittery and ready to re-up on her high. A queasiness settled into her stomach as she followed Lady into the Motel 6. When they were finally inside, Lady sat down at the wooden table and laid their spread out in front of them. It was like a crack buffet; they were set up for a good time.

Bleu watched as Lady tore off a piece of Brillo and stuck it into the end of the stem before adding the rock. The flick of the lighter was like music to Bleu's ears. Her nipples hardened as she watched the flame do tricks under the glass. The clouds that billowed as Lady took her hit excited Bleu. It was all about the clouds. That's where the high lived. Once the clouds were gone, the rock was smoked. She wanted to run away, but her feet were planted firmly as she waited for her turn. She was ready to make her own crack clouds. Lady passed her the pipe and Bleu sat down and set her own blast up. Tiny beads of sweat formed on her forehead as she let the smoke fill her lungs. She sighed in relief.

“So, where you from? You out here in your fancy clothes with your fancy car and hundred-dollar bills. You must be one of them spoiled rich girls with daddy issues. You out here slummin' it for the night,” Lady said.

Bleu wished that were the case. She would take those rich-girl problems any day over her own. Her demons were much more complex. The things that haunted her, the emotions that pushed her to suck the devil's dick, were far worse than anything Lady could imagine. Bleu had the murder of a drug lord hanging over her head. Part of her wanted to disappear in the slums because she knew that no one would come looking for here there. Among the crack clouds was the perfect place to hide. It was far removed from the glamorous culture of L.A. that she had once belonged to.
If Lady only knew,
Bleu thought. “It's not like that,” she responded. “Frankly, I don't feel like talking about it. I just want to ride this ride to the top,” she said as she sucked in more of the poison, her lips cupping the stem as she closed her eyes. She exhaled the smoke and then let the pleasurable waves ripple through her body. Crack did things to her clit that she had never felt before. It swelled and she clenched her thighs. “I'll be back,” she said as she stood up and walked over to the bathroom, crack pipe and lighter in hand. She locked the door and then sat on the toilet as she slipped her hand into her panties. Crack was an aphrodisiac for her. It made her horny and she couldn't help but touch herself as she let her thighs part in bliss. Her mind was out of it as images of Iman, then Noah, then Iman, flashed as she rubbed circles on her love button. She just needed to get off, to release this tension. Her face wrinkled in pleasure as she bit into her bottom lip. Her breaths were rapid as she panted as she applied more pressure. A moan escaped her lips as her mouth fell open and she gave her swollen bud one last squeeze. “Aghh,” she groaned as she exploded. She reached for the crack pipe and lighter, then leaned forward, balancing her elbows on her knees. She lit it and this time without thinking twice she inhaled.

Twelve hours later

Bleu awoke to the sound of incessant banging. She wiped the crust out of her eyes and frowned as she looked around the dirty motel room. Glass pipes, liquor bottles, and empty Baggies lay around. The bathroom door was closed. “Lady, somebody's at your door!” Bleu groaned as she sat up and brushed her messy hair out of her face. She was dragging, exhausted, feeling the lowest of the low as she stood to her feet.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“Lady?” Bleu called as she went to the bathroom door. She knocked once and when she got no response she pushed the door all the way open. The room was empty.

KNOCK! KNOCK!

“Open up this door!” a man's voice called. “Checkout was hours ago. It's time to go!”

Bleu turned around in confusion, searching for anything that said that Lady would be coming back, but all of her things were gone. Bleu rushed over to the nightstand where her purse lay and she quickly unzipped it. “No, no!” she shouted as tears flooded her eyes. Lady had gotten her. The rest of her money and her car keys were gone. Bleu heard the lock on the door as someone slid a key card in the slot and she turned around to find the manager glaring at her.

“I'm leaving; I'm leaving!” she shouted as she snatched up her bag and darted for the door. Sheer panic ran through her as she rushed down the block, headed back to the place where she had parked her Benz. She hoped to God it was still there, but sure enough, when she arrived the space was empty. She had gotten got. After smoking nonstop with Lady for over six hours Bleu had thought she had made a friend on the streets, but she had learned a tough lesson. There were no friends among addicts. Everyone was looking for a way to get high, use or be used, and Bleu had just gotten played. Better yet, she had played herself by trusting a fiend. Bleu felt like crying, which made her feel like smoking. That was becoming her answer to everything nowadays. Every problem, every disappointment, every heartbreak, could be solved with the flick of a lighter. Smoke it all up into the air … fuck it.

 

27

Six months later

“Langston, you got a legal visit!” the CO called as he came to the cell and slid the rectangular slit on the reinforced door to the side. Noah stood and sauntered over to the door.

“Legal visit from who?” Noah asked. He had no lawyer representing him. His public defender had disappeared as soon as he entered his plea deal. Noah had no idea who was visiting him now. He frowned. “You sure it's for me?” he asked.

“Guess you'll see. Hands through the door,” the CO instructed. Noah placed his wrists through the hole and the officer placed handcuffs around them before opening the cell. Noah wasn't sure what this was about, but when he stepped into the private room and saw the white woman sitting in a thousand-dollar designer suit he knew she was about her business. He stood, hands bound in front of him, waiting for her to greet him.

“Hello, Noah,” she said with a smile. “I'm Sarah Bosworth. I've been retained to represent you.”

“Retained by who?” he asked curiously. He knew that his mother couldn't afford to hire a hotshot defense attorney.

“By Naomi Porter,” she replied.

Noah smirked. Naomi was proving to be nothing but loyal, and the more he was around her, the more invested he became. He took the college courses simply to be around her. Seeing her twice a week for an hour was his respite. Her face kept him sane, and she didn't even know it. They were making money with the prison hustle, but Naomi was using her cut to pay for his legal fees. It didn't get any realer than that. “Due to overpopulation in this jail, I was able to pull some strings. You're getting out.”

Noah took a seat on the chair across from her. “When?” he asked.

“I don't charge one thousand dollars per hour for nothing, Mr. Langston. You're getting out now,” she said. “The only condition is that you must serve the remainder of your sentence on probation. So you can't leave the state for the next four years.”

He gave her a charming smile as he nodded his head. He held up his wrists. “Can you talk that big lawyer talk and get these mu'fuckas to remove these tight-ass cuffs?” he asked.

She smiled as she snapped her fingers toward the glass mirror that acted as a two-way window. A guard came in. “While you're processing my client out, I'd like these removed,” Sarah said.

The bracelets came off and Noah massaged his wrists as he said, “You're worth every penny.”

*   *   *

As soon as he walked through the gates, Naomi stood there leaning against a pearl-white Jaguar. A huge smile graced her face as she gripped the collar of her leather jacket. He crossed the distance between them with a confident stride. He had transformed in prison. He was no longer the petty hustler who had gone in. He had emerged a boss, and it was evident in the way he carried himself.

“Remember how I told you not to fall in love?” she asked as he scooped her up, spinning her around as he kissed her lips.

“Yeah, I remember,” he said.

“Well, I broke my own rule,” she answered. “I'm feeling the shit out of you, mister.”

“Good to know, cuz I'ma need a queen,” Noah stated as he opened the passenger door for her and nodded his head, indicating for her to get inside.

“A queen, huh? That's what probably what you call all the pretty girls!” Naomi shot back.

“Nah, just the one that I'ma place beside me. I'm about to take this bitch over. Flint need a new king,” he said.

She squeezed her body past him, rubbing her ample behind against his crotch as she slid into the car. He closed her door and then made his way to the driver's side. When he was sitting beside her she said, “And every king needs his chariot. It's yours. The cell on the charger is yours too. There are clothes in the back, Cole Haan shoes, Ralph Lauren slacks, all that fly shit.”

Naomi blew his mind with the gifts. She was far from average. She was giving away big-boy toys and welcoming him home as if she were his personal concierge. He silently wondered how she had afforded it. They were getting money, but not that type of money. The prison thing was a small hustle. Whatever she was into, it was major. “I'ma give you the keys to the city, ma. Thanks for holding me down.”

“Always,” she replied. “I've got a surprise for you. It's from Khadafi.”

Noah's back stiffened at the name of his father. He had mixed emotions about the man. He had never been a part of Noah's life coming up. He didn't need Khadafi then and wasn't going to start opening up the doors now. “You can keep that. I don't want it.”

“What's the deal with you and him?” Naomi asked.

Noah grimaced as he maneuvered the car. “No deal. I just don't fuck with him,” he replied.

“Well, he fucks with you heavy. Just wait and see,” she said with a smirk.

The three-hour drive back to Flint was filled with laughter as Naomi's big presence filled the tiny space. She was a fun girl. She seemed so serious with the world, but when it came to Noah, she let herself be soft. She trusted him, and he appreciated her for showing him the vulnerability that made up a woman. She made him feel free. After she did a quick bid, her personality was infectious. He could see himself keeping her around for a while.

She guided him into the city, and when they pulled into a storage unit facility he frowned. “Where you taking me, girl?”

“You'll see,” she replied with a sneaky grin. “It's that one right over there.” She reached in her handbag and pulled out the key, handing it over to him.

He parked and walked over to the unit. When he opened it he frowned. “What, we opening a coffee shop?” he asked as he looked at the barrels of coffee beans that lay inside. The aroma was so strong that as soon as he lifted the unit it hit him.

“We're definitely opening shop,” she said. She opened one of the lids and scattered some of the beans aside. She pulled out a brick of cocaine and a fish scale and tossed it to him. “Told you. This was a gift you want to accept.”

Noah saw gold, but he didn't want any handouts. There had to be at least one hundred kilos of cocaine hidden in those barrels.
This shit don't make up for me coming up without a father,
he thought. “Send them shits back,” he replied. “I don't want shit for free.”

Naomi walked up to Noah and placed her hands on the sides of his face. “He said that you might say that. So he's fronting them on consignment. He says when you make your money you go pay your mother. Apparently, he owes her a debt,” she said with a wink. She walked out of the unit and headed back to the car as Noah stood, baffled, conflicted, and excited all at the same time. He was the son of a drug kingpin, and the keys to the kingdom had just been passed down to him. He couldn't help but wonder if he could handle it … this was no small-time prison hustle. It was the big leagues, which meant big adversaries … he would need to build his team from the bottom up. He looked back at Naomi and suddenly Bleu crossed his mind. He hadn't heard from her. Her letters had slowly stopped and he couldn't help but be disappointed that she had forgotten about him while he was locked up. It was supposed to be her who picked him up from prison. She was supposed to be the beauty by his side as he took over the city. Time, distance, and unusual circumstances had caused them to grow apart. There was a dull ache in his chest that accompanied her memory. He looked over his shoulder to make sure that Naomi was tucked inside of the car, out of earshot. He picked up his phone and dialed Bleu's number, hoping that it hadn't changed.

*   *   *

“You playing, shorty? You gon' suck this dick or nah? Cuz a nigga don't got time to be holed up with your ass all day.”

Bleu's fingers no longer shook as she set up her blast. She knew the routine like the back of her hand as she stuffed the stem with Brillo and then placed a crack rock behind it. There was no shame in her game—she loved this shit—and dope boys like the one talking shit over her shoulder fed her habit willingly in exchange for sexual favors.

“Shut your ass up. I said I got you. Just let me get a little smoke in,” she replied, irritated. It had been days since she had wrapped her lips around a crack pipe. For months she had tried to kick the habit, but after a few days she always ventured back to the dark side. She was jittery and long overdue for a hit, but the dealer in front of her had little patience.