Pretty Girls in the Vip (9781617730283) (26 page)

I
took off my shoes and was resting on my sofa when someone knocked on my door like they were the police. I opened the curtain and saw an older white guy in a suit and a young black woman. He was looking up at the second floor and she was looking directly at me. She opened her light blue jacket and revealed a gold badge. I guess that meant that she saw me and I needed to open the door. I had no idea what they wanted, but I wasn't opening the door without finding out first who they were. I looked over at the tags at a car in front of my door. They were blue and municipal. I closed the curtain and searched for my phone as the knocks grew louder. I wanted to call my mom and Ian and let someone know what was going on. I dialed Ian. I needed him to answer, but his assistant answered and said he was on set and was not available. She hung up on me before I could say it was an emergency. The knocks persisted; they knew I was in here so I had to answer. I dialed my mom.

“Mom, the cops are at the door. I don't know what they want, but I'm going to put the telephone down and you just listen, okay?”

“What do they want? What did you do?”

“I didn't do anything, but if anything happens, I have money in the bank. Write yourself a check for whatever you need and sign my name and get me out.”

I set the phone down and went to answer the door. They flashed their badges again. It wasn't the cops; it was the FBI. I was having a what-the-fuck moment. My heart hit my feet.

“Yes?”

“We are looking for Ian McKinley.”

“He is not here.”

“Do you know where we can find him?”

“What is this in reference to?”

The woman officer looked over at the older male officer.

“Ms. Sheppard, is it possible that we can come in?” They came in and introduced themselves, the lady officer as Agent Montgomery and the male officer as Agent Lewis.

“It depends, and how do you know my name?”

“Ms. Sheppard, we need to speak with your boyfriend about an ongoing investigation into the business practices of yourself and Ian and Keldrick McKinley at the Belize nightclub.”

“What type of business practices?” I was feeling uneasy, like maybe I needed to consult an attorney. Before I said anything else, I let them in my home. I knew I hadn't done anything wrong, but I still felt nervous.

“We are here because your boyfriend is being investigated for distributing drugs, extortion, and attempted murder.”

“Huh? Whose boyfriend? Ian? Never.”

“Do you know a Joi Anderson?”

“Yes, she used to work at the club. She quit.”

“She did quit, because she got a better job running drugs from Florida to the Washington, D.C., area. Ian's associate and cousin, Keldrick, also is involved.”

“Okay, you're discussing drugs, but what about this extortion thing?”

“It is our understanding that you have cameras in your nightclub.”

“No, I don't have any cameras in my club,” I stated confidently.

“Well, you do have cameras that you may not know anything about. Mr. McKinley has captured images of some of your clientele in compromising situations. Keldrick McKinley provides your clientele with drugs and girls. And then Ian McKinley films them with the cameras that are everywhere in your club and in hotel rooms. Once they have the victim on tape, they contact them by text messages with pictures and demand a specific amount of money,” Agent Lewis said.

“I didn't know anything about this. I need to speak to an attorney, because this isn't making any sense. I need to call my friend. He is an attorney. His name is Shelton James.”

Agent Lewis continued, “Ms. Sheppard, Mr. James is a part of our investigation, as well. He was recently sent pictures of you two, engaged in sexual activity, with a note attached that he needed to pay twenty-five thousand dollars or his wife and colleagues would see it. Do you know anything about that?”

“What? No.” I thought I might pass out. I couldn't think. The agents began showing me pictures to back up their story. I couldn't believe what I was seeing—they showed me pictures of Ian and Keldrick picking up and meeting people, but the picture of Ian and Joi holding hands stood out the most.

“When was this picture taken?”

“This picture was taken two weekends ago. In Miami, Florida, in front of the Gladwyn Condominiums. Where Ian and Joi live.”

“Hold up—they are living in my house?”

“Yes, the condo unit registered to you, number 2317, is where they have been residing.”

“Yes, that's my place. You have to be kidding me. They can't be. I know Ian would never disrespect me like that.” Even with the proof right in front of my face, I was having a hard time comprehending everything. “This is all so hard to believe.”

“Has your club seen a steady decline in business, Ms. Sheppard?” Agent Montgomery asked.

“Yes, but all clubs go up and then go down and then they just level out.”

“Yes, that probably does happen, but it happens even quicker when people are spreading the word not to go to a certain establishment because they might get set up. This same blackmail/extortion thing has happened to over a dozen of your patrons and has made somewhere in the neighborhood of six hundred thousand dollars.”
Six hundred thousand
, I repeated to myself.

“So, you know who is doing it, and you know the cameras are in the club, and obviously you know I don't have anything to do with it, so why are you here?” I still couldn't believe I was just trying to keep the club doors open and Ian and Keldrick were nailing them shut. But it made sense that Ian had magically got his investors and Keldrick suddenly had a new car. And that bastard knew I was cheating on him and didn't even say anything.

“So again,” I asked, “why are you here? What do you want from me?”

“We need you to get a confession out of Ian and link him and Keldrick to the cameras and cell phones that they are sending the text messages from.”

“I thought you guys don't come until you have a solid case.”

“Correct. We haven't arrested them yet. We need help getting the last pieces of evidence.”

I had so many unanswered questions. I had given Ian everything and this was how he repaid me. He wanted to make that damn movie so bad that he was willing to risk everything I'd worked for? Now I knew why Shelton wasn't being bothered with me. He thought I had something to do with all of this. He was a distinguished attorney, and he didn't need this. And Keldrick—I knew there was something I didn't like about him. How was I going to save my club and myself?

J
abril said he didn't know this girl, but I just listened to an interview with Shani whatever-her-name-is' cousin. I found so much on her once I began Googling her some more. I found interviews she did and even her Twitter and Instagram pages. She had the audacity to Tweet:
DRIVIN' THIS TO THE PARTY TONIGHT. THANKS #41.
YOU THE BEST
.
It was a picture of Jabril's car. Jabril insisted he didn't know her. Well, maybe he doesn't know her, but she knows him well enough to drive his car. She had pictures in front of the new Bentley, and she had a flyer for a party she was hosting—some magazine cover release party tonight at a club called Rapid over in Philly. He was getting the car detailed, I guess, so this girl could shine. I don't think so. I walked in on him in the garage and the guys detailing it.

“Jabril, what's going on tonight? Where are you going?” I asked as he walked back into the house. I followed behind him.

“I'm stopping in to a party right quick. LJ is going to be my chauffeur, that's why I got the car clean. You know him and Eric like to stunt. You can come, too, if you want.” He was lying, and he really must have liked this chick enough to lie to me in my face.

“Why would I want to go to a party when I'm pregnant and I'm supposed to rest?”

“I'm just saying, if you wanted to come you could.”

“I can't and I'm not, but you have fun.”

 

I ran up the steps to the bedroom, locked the door, and called Nichelle all upset. I didn't know how much more I could take.

“Nichelle, I have a big problem. Jabril is cheating with this girl and letting her drive his car to a party tonight.”

“Okay, so what's the problem?” she replied.

“Did you hear what I just said? Jabril is dealing with this girl. He didn't just fuck with her. He's been dealing with her and her cousin is putting on blast saying that she was fucking his teammates, too!”

“What? Did she say which one? You know what—I don't even care. Zakiya, if he is seeing her, fine, but he is living with you so she doesn't matter. Until she is trying to come for your position, you are not even supposed to worry about her. Don't stress yourself out. She is probably not the first nor is she going to be the last. Girl, go shopping and buy some stuff for your baby because that is the only person that matters.” I was truly disappointed in the advice I was receiving from Nichelle. I was not going to quietly deal with Jabril's cheating and let him have a pass. I wasn't living my life like that, but I still didn't know how to handle the situation.

Jabril was done having the car detailed and he was downstairs watching a Kevin Hart comedy DVD with Claudette. They were busy laughing, and I was upset. I looked down the steps and knew I wasn't having any of this. I went into his drawer and found his extra phone hidden in between his boxers and under his bags of weed. I searched for her number, then I dialed her. Before she could say anything I was going to ask her how she knew Jabril. Then I was going to tell her she had better stay away from him. The call connected and she answered, and I said, “This is Jabril's girlfriend. What is going on between y'all?” I waited for her to pop off so I could have a reason to cuss her out.

“Uhm, me and Jabril are just cool. I see him at parties, but I don't deal with him like that.” She sounded like she was lying.

“And so y'all not together? Because that's not what I'm hearing,” I said.

“Nope. I know you are pregnant. He talks about the baby and you all the time. Jabril is just my homeboy. We are just cool.”

I couldn't think of anything else to ask her, so I hung up on her. She must have thought I was the dumbest woman walking the earth. I knew she was fucking my man, and I still had to stop her.

So woman-to-woman talking did not work. What Nichelle said was crazy, and I needed some real advice. I called Adrienne and told her about this girl denying that she was having a relationship with Jabril, but saying that she was driving his car to the club on Instagram. I asked her what she thought I should do. At first she gasped, then she said, “Zakiya, you're not me. I would do a lot of things.”

“Like what Adrienne? I need your help. I don't know what to do. I don't want to fight her. I just want to get rid of her.”

“Then handle her, Zakiya, before you and your baby will be back in Philly and she will be there living your life. I have a lot of things going on, and I can't steer your life right now, but you had better take the wheel and figure out a way to eliminate her. Do whatever you have to do. Think of something, but if she is driving his car and taking pictures with it, she feels like she can do whatever she wants and she thinks you don't even matter.”

“But I do matter!” I screamed to Adrienne.

“Well, you had better make sure she knows that.”

Talking to Adrienne made me furious. I had to think of something to do to this girl—and quickly. I didn't know where she lived, and if I called her back she would never tell the truth. I had to do something. I walked back past him and his mom.

“Jabril, I need to talk to you.”

“Man, come on with the dumb stuff. I'm watching TV, leave me alone, Zakiya,” he said, halfway ignoring me. I had to get him alone, away from Claudette. She couldn't hear me cuss her son out. That was the disadvantage of having his mother always in the same house.

“Jabril!” I screamed at the top of my voice so he could get that I was serious. I had had enough. He wasn't going out and no one was driving his car. I waited at the top of the staircase, and I heard Claudette say, “Go see what she wants. I'll pause it.”

He came up the steps, and I said as calmly as I could, “Jabril, I don't want you to go out tonight.”

“Huh? I already told you I was going out with LJ.”

“Jabril, I know about Shani Amore, the little bitch you been talking to.”

“What about her? That's my friend.”

“That's not what she said.”

“She didn't tell you anything, Zakiya, because there isn't anything to tell. I'm going to go out for a little while, have some fun, and come back.”

I started crying. “I don't want you to go, Jabril. I want you to stay home tonight.”

“You are really on some shit tonight, Zakiya.”

“Jabril, why would you bring me back, get me pregnant, just to play me?”

“I'm not playing you. I love you. You are just tripping. I'm going out with my friends. I'll be back.” His phone rang and then I heard him tell someone he would be ready in an hour. Jabril said he was done, and then he left me and my feelings in the hallway.

I was so angry. I felt like walking to that driveway and slashing the tires of that car and then no one would be driving anywhere, but I couldn't do that. I had to do something. Adrienne saying that Shani thought I didn't matter infuriated me. If Jabril ever left me like Omar did when he thought Christie was pregnant, I would die. Anything could happen, because these men switched on you easily, but it wasn't going to happen to me.

 

Ten minutes later, I sat on the bed. My mind was racing and trying to come up with a solution. I thought of a few things I could do, and then it came to me. If she wanted to drive his car, she could, but it might be the last car she would ever drive. I flicked the light on in Jabril's walk-in closet and picked up two of his extra big bags of weed that he had stashed under his socks and boxers.

I took the bags, put them in my purse, and walked to the driveway. The GT was on display. The cream paint was shining, and the gold-colored rims were sparkling. I looked around to see if anyone was watching. What I was about to do was for my unborn child; it was for Jabril's and my future. I took the bags of weed out and tucked them under the driver's seat. He was out of control, and Adrienne was right. I had to get rid of her because she was the worst kind of female—a female who would cheat with your man, lie to your face, and then help him cover his tracks.

 

I came back in the house a little elated. I sat on the sofa and laughed with Claudette at the last of the DVD. Tonight Shani Amore was going to have the time of her life. She really was going to wish she'd never met Jabril.