More Money for Good (6 page)

By the way she looked, the short-notice invite I gave to Lauren to accompany me to the TQC meet and greet didn't hamper her ability one bit to look stunning. She asked me at least ten times to keep my eyes on the road as we ventured downtown. I just couldn't help myself.

When we arrived at the ballroom of the Ritz my first thoughts were we had run up on a SSOABC (Stuffy-Son-Of-A-Bitch Club) instead of a meet and greet of the unbound and unrestricted minds Rodney said would be in attendance. There were well over 200 people inside. Some sitting, others standing listening to the music or enjoying the all-you-can-eat buffet. We were only inside a few minutes before a waiter walked up to us. He had a tray of nice-looking silver and bluish tinted flutes filled to the brim with champagne. He took our tickets, gave them a quick glance, then gave us champagne in the blue tinted flutes and told us to enjoy ourselves.

Lauren looked around. “They don't look so uninhibited to me, West,” Lauren said. “But this champagne is very nice . . .”

About twenty minutes later, the same waiter walked over to us and asked if we were going to enjoy any more of the buffet. I told him no. He asked us to follow him. We followed him out a side door, down a hallway, then out another door into an alley. There was a black sedan waiting on us along with the driver. The driver sped off down the alley, made a right-hand turn, then went into another alley and stopped. The entire trip in the car was about two minutes. The car stopped next to a door. I watched the driver pick up his phone, text something, and the door next to the car opens up. A bulky man appears. He is wearing a suit. He taps his finger on top of the car two times. The driver unlocks the doors of the car. The man in the suit opens the door, extends his hand to Lauren to help her out.

We followed the man in the suit down a long, dark hallway. It was lined with blue lights in contemporary fixtures. We passed four rooms. Two of the doors were open. Both rooms were completely dark inside. I could tell they were occupied but I couldn't see what was going on. In the hallway there was a man standing with a tray of drinks. Lauren took one without missing a stride, then looked at me with bright eyes. Finally, the man leading us stopped and knocked on a huge double door. Another man looked at us and smiled as he extended his arm and invited us inward.

We went inside. After a few steps we were looking toward a huge gathering of people in a gigantic room. To the naked eye they came across as silhouettes because of the lighting setup inside. There was no doubt—we were in the Quiver Club.

After our eyes adjusted completely to the illumination of the lights we noticed the scented candles situated around the room. I recognized the same type of neo soul music I heard in Rodney's office and Amara's homecoming. We made our way around the ballroom and after about forty-five minutes I decided there was no way possible we were going to find the Thompsons and get a chance to ask them about Amara. There were way too many people in attendance. A few wore masks and were concealing their identity. It seemed as though the other patrons inside felt comfortable enough with one another. By the look of how many hugs and friendly banter during greetings were taking place, the friendships had been established over a period of time, as Rodney explained to us.

Lauren was propositioned a few times for her name and number. I couldn't even complain, because she was stunning. We met a few people inside. We gave them fake names. As we made our rounds no one seemed to know Amara. I was beginning to think that another visit might be in order until people inside had become comfortable with us.

 

After a few hours inside and many drinks to go along with no leads, we ventured our way down the long blue-lit hallway on our way out, following the same man who ushered us in. Our hunt for the Thompsons was a complete bust. Lauren was at her limit and feeling frisky at the same time. I had my arm around her. As we walked past one of the doors that was closed when we walked in, I could see a man in a suit standing just outside the doorway puffing on a cigar with his back toward us. As we go past I could feel him focus on me.

“Well, well, well, look who's decided to come out to play!”

It was Rossi.

We embraced, then Rossi gave Lauren a hug. The gentleman escorting us back to the car stood by and waited patiently for us, almost as if he was familiar with our long-time friend. Rossi noticed him and greeted Herm, then fixed his eyes on me and Lauren with a grinning, devilish smile. Before I could tell him I could explain our night at the establishment, he was already going in on us.

“Nahhhhhh, not you two guys,” he said.

“I don't know what you're talking about, Rossi,” I let him know.

Lauren had a smile on her face and told him the same thing as she began to laugh, knowing our friend was about to let us have it.

Rossi had an enormous smile on his face. “I guess it's true . . . you never know. You just never, never know,” he said.

“No, you don't know,” I told him again. “So, what are you doing here?”

He looked at me. “Can't say.” He smiled again. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Can't say,” I told him right back.

“Sir, the car is ready to take you back now,” Herm let us know.

“That's okay, Herm,” Rossi told him. “These are my friends. I'll take care of 'em.”

Herm watched us clear away from the establishment. We walked a few steps out the alley to the main street. Rossi pointed toward a gray BMW 750. Seconds later, Rossi's mate, Rita, opened the door from the driver's side. When she noticed Lauren it was like a high school reunion because they hadn't seen one another in months. Close to a year.

We ended up at Majestic Diner on Ponce De Leon. Rossi wanted to sit by the window so he could keep an eye on his machine. Lauren and Rita were dying to catch up, so they found a seat three tables away and were already going at it a mile a minute.

I gestured toward Rossi's ride. It was parked right next to mine. “I see you're saving the money.”

“Rita says I look good in it, and you know in this city it takes money to make money.” Rossi reached into his suit jacket and pulled out an envelope. “And the money I made tonight is going to help me to continue to do just that.” He opened it up and showed me a wad of bills, way too much to count. “One hundred large,” he said, folding it up and placing it back into his pocket. “I owned the tables tonight.”

I put two and two together at the night spot we just left. “That's a hell of an operation they have going,” I mentioned to Rossi.

“Rodney's the truth, man. He's a man of many ideas.” Rossi waited for the waitress to pour our water. “You and the baby girl enjoy yourselves, tonight? Meet any
new friends?
”

“Not like we had hoped,” I told him. Rossi had his eyes on me extra tight like never before. I asked him what the problem was.

“No problem, bro; to each his own is what I always say.”

“Slow down your thoughts. You know how I do things.”

Rossi looked over at the girls. “I always thought I was the wild one in this relationship, man, but you've stolen my crown.”

“Believe me, you're still king in that department. I was there looking for someone.”

“Oh yeah? Who?”

“Someone to lead us to a killer for a friend of a friend . . . And then there's this two million dollars.”

“two million dollars you say?”

Who would have thought Rossi would be our in? While we broke bread Rossi revealed that he had been a patron of Rodney's poker nights for the past two years. He boasted of big-time connections inside his entire operation. When Rossi heard about the two million he wanted in—but at a price. I couldn't sanction a deal on the prospects of another man's money. But I did have the ability to get everyone in the room to discuss it. Rossi had a private poker game with a few other insiders of Rodney's circle in a few nights. I let Rossi know I would parlay a meeting with him and Tavious Sunday at my shop.

It was storming outside when I arrived at my place of business. It was a few minutes past eleven. Tavious was already there, sitting on the hood of one of the cars left over for the weekend. He didn't speak when I walked in. As I got closer to him I could see he wasn't doing so well.

“Geez, did you even hit the other guy?” I wanted to know.

Tavious had a hell of a bruise under his eye and way too many scars and scrapes to count on his body to go along with his ripped clothing.

I moved in to take a closer look at him. “What the hell happened?”

“Cops . . .”

“Cops?”

“Yeah, the same two police from the other day. They followed me out of the house. I was on my way to get a bite to eat last night. Hit me with the flashing lights, pulled me over—”

I cut him off. “And when you rolled down the window, popped you one, right?”

“How'd you know?”

It had been the same way they treated me a few years ago. I went into the kitchen of my shop to get Tavious some ice. When I returned Rossi and Tavious had already met.

Rossi turned away from Tavious and looked at me. “You see this, West?” Rossi asked.

“Yeah, I see it—Atlanta's finest at their best. And get this, one of the officers following him is the one in the same who dragged us into that vacant house.”

“Man, you don't even know what kind of loser scumbags these dudes are,” Rossi said to Tavious.

“I think I have an idea now,” Tavious admitted. “They dropped me off outside city limits, took all my money, and I had to walk back.”

I gave Tavious the ice and he placed it on the side of his head.

“Fuckin' bastards,” Rossi let out.

Tavious took the ice from his head then pointed at Rossi. “So, what's this all about, man? I need to go lie down.”

I looked at Rossi then back at Tavious. “He has a way in.”

Tavious grimaced when he put the ice back on. “What do you mean?”

“When me and Lauren went to the club to check on Rodney's lead, I ran into my old partner in crime—”

Rossi interrupted. “Card game, big night, too—”

I cut Rossi off before he started to embellish the night. “Long story short, we went out to dinner. I told him everything and he is pretty sure he can find out information on who Amara had been hanging out with.”

Tavious took the ice off. “Well, let's do this.”

“I want in,” Rossi was very blunt. “I understand there is some money involved and when there is money involved in the streets, I like to involve myself in the game.”

“Meaning . . . ?” Tavious wanted to be clear.

“Meaning, I know you want the police off your back; and if I were a betting man, which I am, I would bet you still want your two million dollars you've been waiting on for over twenty years. Now, I've done time, not as much as you, and I can tell you this: when a man gets out, he wants what he wants.”

Tavious gave me a look then back at Rossi. “This is your man right, West?”

I slapped Rossi on the back. “In the muthafuckin' flesh,” I let him know.

“Cool, what's your price?” Tavious questioned. “I'm sure we can work something out.”

Rossi and Tavious decided on a cool $200,000 if Rossi helped to deliver the money in his hand. When they closed the deal Tavious turned to me and let me know he was now upping my take from one hundred to two hundred Gs along with Rossi to keep things even and to show his appreciation. Rossi was out the door soon after and let us know he would be in touch after he made contact with a few people of interest who were down with TQC.

We were still in the garage and Tavious was still nursing his bumps and bruises. “Man, I have to get out of Grand's place. Those cops already let me know things are only going to get worse and I don't want to worry her.”

And I believed every word of what they told him. Especially if they had been trained by Captain Stallings of the APD. He was one of the most ruthless people you'd ever want to meet. They would stop at nothing to make it as uncomfortable for Tavious as possible. He was now on their bad side even though they didn't have any type of evidence that he had killed Amara.

“Any ideas?” I asked.

Tavious sighed. “I've called three places already and everyone wants to know about my rental history, and you know where I've been laying up.”

Tavious hadn't caught a break since his release from prison and my empathy for him was growing minute by minute. “So, why don't you take my spot above the garage? Two bedrooms up there, nice living space and kitchen; it's like it was made for you.”

“What? You mean like, live there?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Are you serious?”

“Might as well. It may be the best thing for you because now those freakin' cops can't track you in and out of here. You just walk down to work every morning and back up when you get off.”

Tavious saw the light. “Not a bad idea, man. I'll have to tell Grands, but I'm sure she'll understand.”

“Of course she would. Hell, she'd be happy for you.”

Tavious took the ice from his face. “Done, let's do it. How much is rent?”

“Don't worry, it's on me,” I let him know.

“I couldn't just live up there rent free,” Tavious said.

“Yes, you can. Just try.”

Later the same night, Rossi came over with Rita after his card game. As usual he was nonstop about his evening card game. I was almost to a point where I wanted to ask him if the gambling bug hadn't attacked his mind to where he was having a problem. After he got it all out of his system he told me he was sure he had an idea to meet the couple Amara was involved with, the Thompsons, but we were going to need the girls to get next to them. He filled me in on his plan after a few drinks; then we took it to the girls while they were in the den watching something on HBO.

“You want us to do what!” Lauren shrieked.

Rita was sitting right down next to her. “Ewww, that's all I'm saying. Ewww; okay, I said it again.”

Rossi looked at Rita, knowing she was just acting out because he knew firsthand she has been involved in a lot worse.

Lauren was pretty loud when she asked me, “You want us to go into a club and be interviewed by some couples who like to do the nasty in front of people? Is that what you are asking us to do, West?”

I glanced over at Rossi to be clear and he nodded yes.

Lauren nudged Rita. “I was cool with going to the club with you, West, to take a look-see around. But actually portraying like I want to see somebody get buck-naked and hump and pump is a bit much for this sister here.”

Going in, Rossi and I knew that we were not going to get Lauren to do it, not agree to it first, so, like we planned, we turned and looked at Rita.

Rita pushed herself back into her chair. “What? Just because I used to do a few tricks of the trade, you think I would want to see it? Uh-uh. Nope.”

“Told you, West. She's lost some of that spice,” Rossi said.

“Oh, no, you didn't . . .” Lauren said, giving Rita a pat on the leg to console her.

“You weren't saying that last night,” Rita told him.

“Okay,” Lauren chimed in. Then she put her hand up as though she was whispering but everyone in the room could hear her. “I had West crying like a baby the other night.” They gave one another high fives then began to chuckle.

Rossi looked at me and started shaking his head back and forth.

Rita pointed at Rossi. “And that one standing there . . . I can't even count how many times I've had him curl up in a ball with his thumb in his mouth. Lost my spice, my ass,” she said.

I looked at Rossi because our plan to get Rita to agree and Lauren to follow had failed.

“Look, this isn't about us,” I let them know.

“Got-damn right, it's about none of us,” Rita continued to fuss.

“I heard that,” Lauren echoed. “Juicy forever—you know what I mean.”

Lauren stood up, took Rita by the hand; and they walked arm and arm into the kitchen.