Red Hot Liar (9781617738654) (19 page)

“Great vibes my
huh!
” Bunni sucked her teeth and mumbled. She wasn't tryna hear none of that yuck-yuck mealy-mouthed shit! “It's more like you been getting a lotta great looks—ouch!” she squealed as Mink pulled one of her moves and pinched the shit outta her under the table.

“You've been getting a lot of great
film
,” Mink said, covering shit up real smoothly. “Your camera dude was way deep in the beeswax the other day, man! I caught dude all up in my panty drawer taking pictures!”

GiGi waved her hand and pooed her. “That's nothing,” she said with her voice dripping sweet tea and honey. “If you want to be successful on a reality show you've gotta be willing to show America your clean laundry and your dirty laundry too!”

“Who the hell said I got any dirty—ow!” Mink snapped as Bunni pinched her on the tender skin on the back of her arm. Glaring at her rowdy, Mink dipped her fingers into her water glass and got a big chunk of ice and pressed it to her throbbing skin.

“Oh, by the way, Mr. Dominion,” GiGi said loudly, stealing the attention back as she ignored both of them and leaned in close to Viceroy and flattered him with her pretty smile. “I've never had steak quite this delicious before! Is this imported beef? Does your cook use a secret seasoning or something?”

“It's a goddamn cow!” Bunni snapped. “One of them snotty-nosed things they got running around out there in the yard! Y'all crackers grow 'em out there in California too, don'tcha?”

GiGi spun around in her seat until she was fully facing Bunni. The beaming smile never left her face, but her eyes were cooler than the other side of the pillow as she nodded her head and said brightly, “Yes! That's it! That's the kind of real talk it takes to get a reality show, Bunni! Don't hold back. Americans want to be shaken out of their mundane normalcy. Our viewers want to engage with people who say exactly what's on their minds. We need the rest of the family to behave just like you! Shocking! Startling! Salacious! Sensational! Scandalous!”

“Stupid!” Mink leaned over to Bunni and whispered. “That trick means stupid, slow, simple, and silly as hell!”

 

Somehow GiGi managed to schmooze herself up on a tour of Dane's garage apartment, and all Bunni could do was walk around the den stomping her feet and mumbling under her breath with an attitude while she and Mink waited for them to come back.

“That heffah ain't right,” Bunni fumed. “She's supposed to be focusing on me you and Peaches, but all she been doing is tossing that damn red ponytail up in Viceroy and Dane's damn faces!”

Mink shrugged. “That's because them two got something in they drawers that me and you ain't got in ours. I'm telling you, Bunni. You better not sleep on this one. Game is over here sniffing out
game
, baby. GiGi might look like a dumb valley chick but she's a hustler, honey. She's just as slick with her shit as the rest of us. If not more so.”

When GiGi finally came back she and Dane were laughing and joking like they were old friends. Bunni's eyes narrowed as she saw GiGi hit Dane with that killer smile of hers then slip him her number on the low. The chick was smooth, Bunni had to admit. Smoother than a baby's ass!

“Hey,” she interrupted the little flow they had going on. “What's up, GiGi?” she asked as she barreled across the room and joined her and Dane in the parlor. “I know you not about to leave now, are you? I mean, tell me sumthin, damn! How was our meeting? Are we good? Is your boss gonna send us a full camera crew so we can get this show rolling or what?”

Igging Bunni, Dane glanced at his wristwatch. “I gotta make a quick run so I'll leave you two to talk,” he said, cheesing all up in GiGi's grill. “I sure hope to see you again sometime soon, GiGi,” he said as he walked off. “You know where I stay now so don't be a stranger.”

That cheery-o smile she had been laying on Dane dropped completely off GiGi's face as she turned to look at Bunni. “Thank you for inviting me into your home again, Bunni,” GiGi said, her words real flat like she didn't need Bunni no more and was tired of fucking with her. “Y'all have been very interesting and like I said before, I'm going to run my assessment by my supervisors and see what they think your family can do for our ratings and stuff and whatever.”

“So that's it?” Bunni blurted. “You been here all day talkin' folks to death and you still don't know if we'll get us a show or not? Well are you at least gonna let them know how much we got it going on and that we're ready to blow up your open slot?”

“As I told you,” she said slowly, like she was talking to a tree that just didn't get it. “We still have a few other families to interview. We will get back to you as soon as we have an answer,” GiGi lied, “and if it all goes well I will personally give you the good news and broadcast your family to the world. Don't worry, Bunni,” she said, a slight grin creeping over her face as her eyes slid across the room and roamed up the staircase where Dane had just disappeared. She had way more planned for this family than Larry or Stewie could ever imagine. Way more. In fact, she didn't really give a damn about Larry or Stewie, or what kind of dirt they needed to derail Viceroy Dominion's campaign. She had stumbled upon a prime opportunity and GiGi was about to look out for
self.
Damn right. She was gonna jump on one of those Dominion men and ride his wave all the way down to the bottom of the sea.

Grinning big time, she pat Bunni on the hand and gushed. “Yes, please don't worry, dear. I
promise
this isn't the last you're going to see of me.”

 

Barron smelled her way before he saw her. Even above the mouthwatering odor of the delicious meal that was drifting in from the kitchen, he picked up on her scent. She was wearing the kind of perfume that black women never wore, and it slid up his nose and tickled his nuts before he even laid his eyes on her.

Damn!
he screamed inside as he rounded the corner and saw the ass on the red-headed white chick who was standing in the den talking to Bunni. She had on a hot red form-fitting dress that hugged every last one of her curves, and Barron's eyes went all up and down and underneath that shit as he approached them from behind.

“What's going on here?” he interrupted their conversation and asked with a charming smile. “I wouldn't have missed the luncheon if I'd known we were having such beautiful company today.”

Bunni smirked. “You don't hafta know every doggone thing, Barron! This here is my little thingy-thang, okay?”

She leaned in toward GiGi and said, “This is the real stuffy one I told you about. His name is Barron but they call him Bump. Is that hood enough for ya?”

“Barron!” The sweet-smelling beauty held out her hand. “GiGi Molinex. I've heard so much about you. Pleased to finally meet you.”

Barron gripped her hand and stared. Her green cat-eyes bounced off the hues in her slinky dress and he couldn't help wondering if her down south hair was anywhere near as flaming hot as the hair on her head.

“Pleased to meet you, Ms. Molinex—”

“Call me GiGi.” She flashed him a bright, open smile and held on tightly to his hand. “I insist.”

Barron grinned back at her. “Well then, pleased to meet you, GiGi. Welcome to our home,” he said. “I saw the television van outside in my parking spot,” he said, “but where are the cameras?”

“I already told you this is my thingy-thang, Barron!” Bunni barked. “GiGi is a TV producer and she's gonna put me in a reality show!”

“I said I
might
put you in a reality show,” GiGi corrected with a pleasant smile. “Right now we're still in the information-gathering stage. We have to find out as much as we can about your family so we can determine if this is a match for our viewership.”

Barron scoffed and shook his head. “Sorry, but everybody around here knows how I feel about reality shows. I think the world has seen enough ratchet chicks get on television and fight with their baby daddies.”

“Why they gotta be ratchet just because they keep it real for America, Bump? At least they ain't walking around with paper towel rolls stuck up they ass like some people around here!”

GiGi laughed as she took Barron by the arm and turned on her charm. “Studies have proven that the majority of television viewers are tired of scripted drama. They want spontaneity and people who have the types of problems in their lives that most women can identify with. While you may call it ‘ratchet' lots of women call it their reality.”

Barron shrugged. “That's cool, but what made you decide to come here? Our family isn't that exciting and we definitely don't have the kind of scandals that are made for television. I mean, Bunni probably has a lot of juicy lockup stories she can tell you about the trashy life she lived in New York City, but the rest of us are just regular southerners.” He chuckled. “To be honest, our lives are so boring we'd probably put your viewers to sleep and get you fired. I don't think you wanna bother with us.”

“Well.” GiGi grinned and her smile was so sexy and gorgeous that Barron's wood jumped up high in his pants. “I beg to differ with you Barron. I think you're plenty interesting,” she said, cozying up close on his arm. “And handsome too. Is it possible for us to get together privately at some point so we can sit down and have a little chat?”

Barron nodded as drool damn near slid down his chin.

“I have some wine chilling in my suite right now,” he said smoothly.

“Sorry, I was just about to leave, so I'll have to take a rain check. But tell me, what kind of wine do you prefer? Red or white?” she asked with a sexy giggle.

“White, baby,” Barron licked his lips and said hoarsely as he stared mesmerized into her smoky eyes. He leaned in close to her and whispered in her ear as his dick throbbed nice and hard, “I like it white all day and all night too, goddammit. Definitely white, baby. White . . . white . . .
white
.”

I
t was late night inside the Dallas County Jail and the female inmates could be heard talking shit, gambling, and just being loud for no good reason. Dy-Nasty was stretched out on the top bunk reading the obscene messages scribbled on the ceiling and walls by the countless prisoners who had occupied the cell before her. The dim light that stayed on burning all night long reflected the mood of the women in lockup, which was gloomy and depressing. What made matters even worse was that Dy-Nasty's cellie was going through heroin withdrawal. The bitch was moaning, groaning, and farting up the whole damn cell.

The entire bag was grossing Dy-Nasty out, so she pulled the thin blanket over her head and thought hard about getting up outta that hellhole as she fell into a troubled sleep.

She was up again bright and early the next morning.

“Yo, Ceee-Oooh!” Dy-Nasty sang out as she pounded on the door about thirty minutes before breakfast was due to begin. Between her dope-sick cellmate and her graphic nightmares she had barely slept at all. Even in her dreams she had been feening to get to the phone, desperate to make contact with Pat, her mother and one true friend, who she hadn't been able to reach in a minute. On the real, Dy-Nasty was truly worried. It wasn't like Pat to just not answer her phone, and she had a feeling something funky was going on back in Philly.

“Yo, CO!” she hollered again. “Cell two fifty-two needs to use the phone! Hurry up and crack the damn door!”

The male guard on duty had been nicknamed Shaka because of his athlete's build and dark African features, and he had a hot jones for Dy-Nasty. He was a mean son of a bitch but he usually let Dy-Nasty get away with some things that other inmates couldn't.

“You know it's too early to use the phones,” Shaka said as he grinned at Dy-Nasty through her cell window. She batted her eyes and licked her luscious lips at him in return. Shaka was used to thirsty inmates tryna get at him, but he liked DyNasty's ghetto Philly ass. “A'ight, check it,” he said, submitting. “You looking good so I'ma let you rock today.”

Shaka opened the cell door manually and let Dy-Nasty out, and she slowly switched her lovely gangsta booty past him as she gazed up at him seductively. Shaka was her early morning connection to the telephone so she needed to keep his Mandingo ass on a string. She knew there were hella cameras all around, but she also knew how to flirt on the sly and send a nigga a cheap thrill. She had a couple of hating hoes breathing down her neck because they saw how good Shaka treated her, but she wasn't stuttin' that shit. They could have his ass, she just needed him in her pocket for a while so she could make her little moves.

Dy-Nasty hit the phone and anxiously dialed Pat's number again hoping that she picked up this time. To her surprise Pat picked up on the second ring.

“Hello,” she snapped after listening to the recording and accepting the call. “Who the hell is it?”

“It's me, Mama,” Dy-Nasty said, happy to finally hear her voice. “I'm locked up down in Texas.”

“Ahhh shit!” Pat exclaimed. “What in the world happened, baby?” Pat sounded shocked but she was also excited to hear from her baby girl. “Sweetheart, I had a funny feeling something was going on with you!”

“That's why I been trying to call you, Ma,” Dy-Nasty said as she looked over her shoulder. It was almost time to line up for breakfast so the cells began to open up and sleepy faces emerged out in the hall. “I was at the airport about to come home and them down-south bitches set me up and got me knocked! I need your help, Mama. Where the hell you been at? I was getting worried.”

“Ohhh, girl. I been going through some drama myself,” Pat said, sounding shook. “Some big mothafucka walked up on me outta nowhere and tried to kill me. I pulled my knife on him but he fucked me up and threw me in a damn Dumpster. Can you believe it? I hurt my back real bad and got my arm broke and shit, and now I keep having these real bad spasms that keep me running back and forth to the hospital. That nigga's lucky he got the best of me though 'cause if I was a little younger I woulda cut his giant ass to pieces.”

“Damn, Mama!” Dy-Nasty said, distressed. “It's some crazy-ass people out there! You gotta be easy walking around there on them streets. And fuck a knife, I want you to get you a burner. I'm glad you a'ight but I need you to help me now. You know it's all Selah's fault that I'm locked up in here. She got all stupid over that ugly engagement ring, and now I don't know what to do!”

“You still got the money, right? That two million they was supposed to put in your account?”

Dy-Nasty sucked her teeth. “Hell, no. It's gone. Them cheapskates closed the account and took all the money back! I don't even have enough change for no soap or deodorant or nothing up in here.”

“Damn Indian-givers!” Pat said, sounding pissed. “They coulda let you keep that!”

“I know, Mama. But these rich people is stingy like that. I don't know what to do! I don't know nobody down here and I need me some help!”

“It sounds like you jammed up, baby,” Pat said, feeling real bad for Dy-Nasty. “You should try to call Selah and talk to her.”

“I been tryin'. She won't take my calls!”

“Selfish bitch!” Pat sucked her teeth. “I guess you gonna have to bite a bullet then. Maybe eat you a slice of humble pie.”

“Huh?”

“You gonna have to go for Selah's soft spot baby, and hit her there.”

Dy-Nasty scrunched up her face. “Where? In her eyeball?”

“No, you damn dummy!” Pat spit, “In her
heart
, girl. Hit her in her heart. Try to get in good with her and use whatever you can to break her down. You gonna have to come across like you remorseful and you wanna be useful and do something good for her at the same time.”

“Yeah!” Dy-Nasty said getting excited. “You right, Mama. You right! I'ma call her again right now.”

“Uh-uh!” Pat said sharply. “No, don't call her just yet,” she explained. “You should write her old snobby-ass a couple of letters first. Make them sound real sorry and try to get on her good side. Rich uppity niggas always like their asses kissed in writing so they can read it over and over again. It might take a little while for her to act right, but you gotta be patient in order for this type of thing to work. Now, you do what you gotta do, you hear me?”

“Yes, Mama. I hear you,” Dy-Nasty said, her mind turning. “Thank you so much. I knew you would come through for me! I'ma start putting this shit together right now. I'll call you later. I love you, Pat! Stay by the phone and wait for my next call.”

“I will, baby,” Pat said sweetly. “I love you too, baby. You just make sure you do what I said, okay, Dy-Nasty? Keep me posted.”

As soon as Dy-Nasty put the receiver down she turned around and caught some skinny Spanish chick breathing down her neck. She was standing there looking like she wanted to use the phone, but she could forget that shit.

“Bitch back the fuck up. It's a wrap for this phone, this shit's minez right now,” Dy-Nasty barked, blacking out on the girl for invading her space. She didn't even have nobody else to call but she picked up the phone and started punching in random digits anyway.
Sheiiit,
you had to be forceful up in this joint because bitches would try to play you for a punk in a heartbeat. And Dy-Nasty was nobody's punk. She was on a serious mission now and she was gonna have to step her game up to a whole 'nother level if she had any chance of accomplishing it!

 

Barron had dropped almost half of his workload at Dominion Oil in order to devote some quality time to his father's campaign, and while he still put in a lot of hours working every day, he found time to play a little bit too.

He had a big problem with everything his father was doing to win this election and get a crack at chairing the commission, and all he could think was that the oil rig explosion had not only bumped Viceroy's head, it had rattled his fuckin' brains around too.

For somebody who had always been so concerned about his image, letting some gigantic black nightmare like Peaches stay at the crib and giving Bunni the green light to have a reality show was some of the last shit the family needed to be doing. But Barron had to admit that some good was coming out of it. That stunning female producer that he'd recently met was really something else. She was a bad-ass white chick, a red-headed sight for sore eyes, and Barron couldn't stop thinking about her. He knew exactly what he could do with some of that and he couldn't wait to get his chance.

Just this morning she had pranced up in the joint in a pair of skin-tight white jeggings that put her long curvy legs and sexy booty bump on full display. Her pert features and her beautiful green eyes had sent a lump of wood rising down in his drawers, and if his father wasn't in the room Barron would've gotten his mack on right then and there.

He had jumped in line to be interviewed for her pre-assessment, and after laying that smooth black man's charm down on her he was pretty sure she would be choosing his family for a film date.

And despite all the eye-rolling and teeth-sucking that shade-throwing Bunni had cast on him, GiGi really seemed to take to him too. In fact, she had thrown him a huge hint about hanging out together sometimes and Barron had tossed her one right back. He had told her breakfast was his favorite meal of the day and that he could eat it anytime, morning or night. She'd told him breakfast was her favorite meal too, and that when it came to pancakes her stomach didn't have a clock on it. Barron loved that shit, and he decided that one day he was gonna put her to the test. They had agreed to meet for lunch and Barron couldn't wait. He had spent the morning jacking off furiously in his room, stroking his dick to all kinds of vivid images of the girl of his dreams, and this time when he nutted in his palm it wasn't Mink's sweet pussy and high, round ass that he saw in his erotic fantasy anymore. It was GiGi's.

 

It was high noon and Bunni was ready to get her munch on. Selah was sitting on a breakfast stool sipping from a cup of herbal tea. Mrs. Katie had fried Bunni and Mink up a batch of jumbo-sized prawns and whipped up some homemade tartar sauce to go with them.

The two of them were heaping mounds of steaming hot shrimp and fries on their plates when the chimes sounded near the front door of the mansion, and they heard voices laughing and talking in the parlor.

“Who dat?” Bunni looked at Mink and raised her eyebrow as she chomped down on a juicy bite of shrimp.

Mink shrugged. “I'on't know. But it sounds just like—”

“GiGi!” Bunni leaped to her feet and hauled ass out of the kitchen hollering, “GiGi's here! Woot-Woot! My gurl GiGi is here!”

A few moments later they rolled back in the kitchen with Bunni practically dragging the chick over to the counter while her mouth flapped a hundred miles a minute. “I thought you said you was gonna call me? If you brought your tail all the way over here then I
know
you got some good news, right! So what did your bosses say, huh? We in, right? Where's the camera crew and when we gonna get to filming? We in, right? We in there, baybee!”

GiGi had a bright smile on her face as she laughed at Bunni's excitement and greeted everyone sweetly. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Dominion. Nice to see you, Mrs. Katie. How's it going, Mink?”

Mink paused with a fry halfway to her mouth, busting the funky groove right off the bat, but Bunni was like an over-grown puppy as she jumped up and down and damn near peed on the floor at the sight of the red-haired beauty.

“Now, Bunni,” GiGi finally turned to address her and answer her million questions. “I did tell you that you'd be seeing me soon, but I didn't know it would be as soon as today. The executives at the station still haven't come to a firm decision yet, although they are in the process of narrowing things down. I'm sorry I don't have a better answer for you, but I'm hoping you'll continue to be patient while we work things out.”

Bunni's mouth hit the floor.

“You mean you
still
don't have no answer? Well what the hell you come over here getting me all hyped up for?”

“Well, actually”—GiGi turned slightly and wiggled her fingers over her shoulder with a sugary grin—“I'm here to spend some time with Barron today. We just had lunch at the quaintest French restaurant ever, and he invited me over for a little swim.”

Bunni whirled around. If looks coulda killed then Barron's white girl–lovin' ass woulda been stretched out on the floor! He stood there in the doorway with a shit-eating grin on his face that all four black women in the kitchen would've loved to slap off.

“Barron?” Bunni snapped. “What the hell do Barron got to do with this? I keep telling you this is
our
thingy-thang! Barron ain't down with none a' this—”

“Er, Bunni, this is a
personal
visit,” GiGi said and placed her manicured hand on Bunni's arm soothingly. “It has nothing to do with our business matters,” she explained.

“That's right,” Barron said as he walked over and took GiGi by the arm and led her toward the back door. He winked at Bunni and shot her a bitch-ass look. “Chill out, Bunni. Ain't nobody trying to get in your damn business. Believe me, this is all pleasure.”

 

Two days later, GiGi and Barron sat inside of a Waffle House diner having breakfast at four in the morning. GiGi hated breakfast food, but when Barron called in the middle of the night and suggested they go get some, she had hopped up and got dressed and met him there.