Snatched (4 page)

"C'mon Caroly
n. I don't feel like
playing
with you
.
Not tonight. So g
et
the fuck
out
.
"

She did her fake pout, another irritating
gesture
. "
You
c'mon. I'm horny
.
"

"I'm not."

"OK, let's make a deal then," she offered.

"What kinda deal?"

"You give me what I want and I'll give you a little somethin'"

She smiled, mimicking the vampire grin she'd picked up from her mentor, Clare, head ho in charge.

"And whaddya think I want from you?"

She laid fully on her back then, grin in place as she looked up at him.

"How 'bout some information."

"Yeah? What information
?
"

She took the edge of the sheet, twiddled it between her fingers, her eyes on the
action
. "A little somethin' about…oh, I don't know… some
smack
…" She let the rest hang in the a
ir as she looked back up at him, her grin wider.

One moment she was laying there, the next he had her by the shoulders
gripping her like a ragdoll
, her feet dangling a few feet in the air
.

"Ouch! You're hurting me!" she yelped.

"What do you know about
the missing stash?" he demanded still holding her by the shoulders.

"I'm not going to tell you if you keep hurting me!"

He realized then what he was doing. He hadn't meant to hurt her. Just that he was on edge and if she knew something, it could go a long way to saving his ass.

He released her
, let her feet meet the floor. She rubbed at her shoulders.

"OK, feel like telling me now."

She tried to smile, couldn't quite make it happen. "You really hurt me."

"I'm sorry. Just tell me what you know."

She
stepped
away from him until she was
out of arm's reach
.

"Nothing really. I just heard
Drake
and a few
of the
others talking. Something about a missing stash.
I didn't hear everything, just t
hat somebody was
going to
have to take the fall and that
it might as well be
you
since you're
the virgin of the crew
.
You
know, because
no one would really miss you.
"

The thought of the set-up
roiled
his stomach. He unconsciously clenched his fingers into a fist.

"Well,
what else did they say?" he asked impatiently. "They
say who
stole
the
stash
?"

She shook her head
, nervously noting the fist.

"I didn't hear them say a name.
J
ust that they
knew somebody had to go down and they
didn't want any fingers pointed at them."

So Roach
hadn't been the only one
set
ting
him up. Sounded like
most
of the
crew
was
in on it; w
hich meant they might be in on the theft too.
And
they were intent on making him the sacrificial lam
b
.
Getting out of this mess had just gotten messier. And the clock was ticking down to Rez's deadline –
all the way to
his grave.

Carolyn began to sidle toward him, her smile back in place. If he hadn't been in the mood before, he definitely wasn't feeling it now. Just as she reached him, he grabbed her arm, began pulling her toward the door.
She squeaked.

"
Hey!
Why you treating me like this
, Dele
? I did you a good turn."

He let go. "
Thanks for the info but i
f you know what's good for you, you'll keep this
just between you and me
."

"You're not threatening m
e are you?"
she asked uncertainly. "
I mean you wouldn't actually hurt me.
You're not like the others.
"

"
You sure about that? Let me give you a piece of advice.
Don't trust anybody around
you
.
You never know who
'll
turn on you."

With those words he shoved her out the now opened door and slammed it behind her.

Even as he stood near the door, he wasn't sure that he hadn't made an unnecessary enemy. He ought to take some of his own advice, including not underestimating what a peeved woman might do.

Minutes later, he lay on the bed looking up at the darkened ceiling. The only light in the room came from a couple of street lights outside. Laying there nak
ed, uncertain about his future
, he began to regret not taking Carolyn up on her offer. Sex was
a good release in times like these.

He thought about helping himself. Instead he turned over, closed his eyes, forced sleep to come.

And hoped he wouldn't wake up
to find
someone pushing a knife into his heart.

Even before the interview had ended, Nailah knew she
wasn't getting
the job
at Internance
.
Something about the way the interviewer
, Ms. Barton,
dressed in
dull gray
tweeds
and with an overly
pleasant demeanor
,
had settled back
into her seat,
a patronizing smile
plastered on her face
as she'd looked
over Nailah as though
Nailah
were some curious but entertaining anomaly
.
After an awkward start,
the
questions
had
quickly
veered from
Nailah's
financial
background
to casual bullshit questions like
"
How are you enjoying
this weather
?
Hot isn't it?
" and "
W
hat books have you read lately?"
Not
any real substantive
questions about the current
fluctuating
market
or
what
particular
investments Nailah
might
recommend to customers.
Not w
hat Nailah could contribute to Internance.

Nailah had
soon
realized that the bullshit
questions
were simply allowing
Ms. Barton
to while away the
crucial
hour until the next applicant
arrive
d
.
The
q
uestions
were a smoke screen
t
o give the appearance of due consideration
when in fact
there was
no consideration at all
.
Ms. Barton had already written her off.
At the end of the hour,
the
woman
had
quickly risen, giving
Nailah a
pleasant
but final
send-off
, all the
while
weakly
shaking
Nailah's hand, a touch
that ended just a bit too
abruptly
.

When
Nailah
arrived at
the
condo
after an hour's ride on the Metro
,
she'd
doffed
her
bitterness
along with her
sage
Chanel threads
. She'd
pulled on a
comfortable
red
tee along with her favorite faded
jeans
.
She then
headed to the k
itchenette, pulled out a bottle of red Merlot, retrieved the container of berries from her refrigerator followed by an orange and a lemon
which she summarily peeled.
She
mixed the ingredients into the blender
along with half a bottle of
the
Merlot. After a few minutes,
she switched off the blender and
poured
the newly made
Sangria
into a wine glass
.
The recipe was one she'd
picked up
during her trip through
the south of
Spain
last year
.
As
she drank first one then another glass
, she
began to
feel
fine.
Actually she began to feel r
eally fine, in fact. After the third glass, she was able to give a good f
uck
off in her mind to both
Ms. Barton and Internance.

Midway through her fourth glass
, a craving for
barbecue
took over
. Ruby's
piquant
sauce would go just right with her
sangria
.
It was a little after three in the afternoon, too late for lunch, too early for dinner. Then again, it was
also
too early for half a bottle of Merlot.
And there was that small promise to God to lay off the indulgences. But given her rotten day, maybe God would allow her some dispensation.
Since she'd already broken
one
cardinal rule, what did it matter if she indulged herself
a little
more
with some succulent meat
?

She headed to the door, feeling just a little bit wobbly but
still
holding her own. Thank goodness she didn't h
ave to drive to the rib joint.

Fifteen minutes later, she entered Ruby's
BBQ
. There was already a line several
folk
deep. No matter the state of the economy, Ruby's would never go out of business.
Hot links, rib tips and fries drenched in Ruby's secret sauce was the menu de jour every day.
In addition, the clientele could choose other dishes such as blackened catfish fried up as good as anything one might find in
New Orleans
. Not to mention collard and mustard greens, beans and rice, bean pie, sweet potato pie, lemonade and
sugary
iced tea.
For just a few bucks, those suffering from any type of malaise were sure to get a spicy pick-me-up.
As well as
pick up a few pounds.
For the weight-conscious customers, there was always diet soda.

When she left
the establishment
, she had a
bag with a
container of
ribs, fries
along with
a side
dish
of sweet potato pie. She didn't know if the dessert would taste good with
Sangria
but she would find out within a few minutes.

A sense of déjà vu
aros
e with the sound of rumbling engines. Specifically, the rumbling engines of motorcycles. She
knew
instinctively that those engine
s belonged to
the
bikers
from yesterday.
The ones that had
gathered
in the parking lot across the street from the cleaners.

Damn. Two days in a row meant that they had m
oved into the real estate and had
probably
already claimed
territory.
She knew next to nothing about gangs except basic stuff about graffiti signs
along with the inevitable
rise in crime. Crime
that
usually centered around drugs. Street drugs, prescription drugs, club drugs. There was always somebody – or some dead body – in the news because of the underground economy. Just like Ruby's, drug dealers would always
have
customers no matter what was going on, up or down.
Actually a bad economy probably padded the customer list.