The California Saga (19 page)

 

 

“Tonight is gonna be crazy,” I said to Touch as I reviewed the checklist for the party setup.

Every celebrity from VA was on the guest list, and the VIP area would have a seafood buffet stacked with lobster tails and king crab and endless Armand de Brignac to wash that shit down. Each guest would receive a complimentary bottle of Rosé and a gift bag with party favors. There were dollar sign ice sculptures, and dancers covered in nothing but body paint. They would be dancing in cages that hung from the ceiling throughout the club. And, of course, the ultimate one hundred fifty grand money drop at midnight. I have to say Touch had really outdone himself this time.

Touch looked down at my brand new five-thousand-dollar heels that had arrived just in time for the party. “Nah, these fucking custom-made Christian Louboutin heels are crazy.”

I'd had a mold taken of my foot and had chosen the fabric myself, and had the shoes with a matching clutch custom-made for the night of the party. And my dress was tailor-made as well. This was one night I was confident that I wouldn't be duplicated.

“Look at us.” I walked up to Touch and fell in his arms as I looked into his big brown eyes that I adored so much. “Who would have ever thought we would be here?”

“You're right.” Touch laughed. “I should have fucked you a long time ago.”

“Baby, I'm being serious. I mean, look at this.” I grabbed a handful of money from the garbage bags and dumped them all over the bed.

“You did this, baby girl. You brought the shit to the table. I just rationed it out.”

It wasn't until then that I realized what Touch was saying was true. I did make shit happen. When everything was fucked and I was alone, I made shit happen, using my money and my connection with TMF. For the first time I had some real gangtress credibility.

“Damn, I guess you're right. I never looked at it like that.”

“I'm just glad that it's you that I have to build this with.” Touch wrapped his arms around me and kissed me softly. “But I still say I should have fucked you a long time ago. Damn, a nigga was missing out. Time to play catch up.” Touch pushed me on the bed playfully and rushed to take my clothes off, as if he had no time to waste.

“Stop playing, boy.” I hopped on him and straddled my naked body over him. I whispered in his ear, “Your pussy ain't going nowhere.”

“You sure?” Touch squirmed beneath me as he got undressed.

“I'm positive.”

I could feel the head of his erect penis brush against my clit. That sensation alone made my juices flow. I moved my hips in a circular motion, forcing the head in and heightening the sensation even more.

Touch grabbed my hips, freezing them in position. “How do I know you won't give my pussy away?”

“Baby, I'm not,” I said, eager to be released.

I wanted nothing more than to sit on his lap and have all of him inside of me. Each second he prolonged, the more I yearned for him. Unable to last a moment longer, I removed his hand and sat down on him, forcing his entire dick inside of me, and the next thirty minutes was spent in total bliss.

I opened my eyes as I panted, exhausted from a multiple orgasm triggered by the force of Touch's cum rushing inside of me at the peak of my orgasm. In front of me lay the love of my life, and all around him was money. Hell, the thought alone of fucking on a bed full of money was enough to get me wet all over again and go for round two, but time was ticking and we needed to prepare for our big night.

The next few hours were spent on hair and nails for me, and making sure everything was in order at the club for Touch. By ten o'clock were we getting dressed. Normally, we wouldn't be preparing so soon, but this night I wanted to be sure we were at the club by eleven. After all, the countdown was at eleven fifty-nine, and we had to be there for that.

Just as I'd planned, at eleven o'clock we were pulling up to the club. I was surprised to see such a huge crowd so early. The line was already wrapped around the building, and the valet parking was full of high end cars.

When we pulled up, it was like the president and first lady had arrived. Security cleared the doorway, and they pulled out the red carpet. The driver ran around and opened the back door for Touch and me, and we paraded into the club as the onlookers stared.

The club was beautiful as we walked in. It was set up far better than I'd imagined.

Every known hustler and groupie was in the club, yelling out to Touch as we headed to the VIP section toward the back of the club.

“Touch, what up, nigga.”

“Yo, Trayvon.”

Everything was about Touch. He was the big man in town. As we walked through, I received dirty looks from bitches cutting their eyes and pointing and whispering, while dudes looked like they wanted to kidnap me. Touch was the town savior, while I was the city's most hated.

I held in my irritation as I held my man's hand tight as we walked through the club. Never would I let anyone see me weak.

Once we got to the back, I noticed a big chair that resembled a throne.

As soon as Touch walked up, the club owner said, “Take your seat, homeboy.”

Touch dapped him up. “Nigga, you crazy as hell.”

“I had to show love. Ain't nobody ever did it big like this in the club yet, so I had them bring this chair in for you. This is your seat for the night.”

“A'ight, a'ight.” Touch got comfortable as he sat at his throne.

Just then two naked-ass bodypainted bitches came over. They kneeled before Touch and asked, “What can we get for you?”

Touch looked at the club owner, who still stood beside him. “The bitches too?”

“You the king tonight, homie.”

“Oh, this is just too much.” I walked away to get a glass of champagne from the fountain.

Touch met me at the champagne fountain moments later. “You a'ight, baby?” he asked.

“I'm good. Don't worry about me. It's all about you tonight. Just do you, king,” I said sarcastically before attempting to walk away.

Touch grabbed my arm. “Jewel, don't do this tonight, please.”

He was right. I didn't want to let the people see us weak. Regardless of what, we needed to put our best foot forward and show them that our empire was strong.

“Okay, no problem.” I put on a plastic smile, kissed him on the cheek, and followed his royal highness to his throne.

As the night went on and I downed glasses of champagne, any insecurities I had earlier in the night were gone. Touch and I laughed and danced. With two minutes left until midnight, I caught a glimpse of Sasha. She was talking to the security at the entrance of VIP. My first instinct was to rush over there and beat that bitch's ass. But again that night I had to put my best foot forward. Besides, security was tight, and I was sure there was no way her ass would get past them.

As Touch rushed to grab two bottles of Armand de Brignac, the deejay said, “One minute.”

The crowd grew anxious as we all awaited the countdown. With thirty seconds left until midnight, I glanced at the VIP entrance and noticed Sasha was no longer there.
I knew that dirty bitch wouldn't get through
.

Touch handed me my bottle. He tapped me and nodded his head in the direction of the crowd, signaling me to look at someone.

As I pulled the wrapper off, preparing to pop the top, I noticed Calico in the VIP area.

We all counted down in unison, “Ten, nine, eight . . . zero.”

Everyone shouted, “Happy New Year!” and bottles began to pop. Everything around me was chaotic. The crowd was going crazy as the money dropped from the ceiling. It sounded like a combination of fireworks and gunshots as the bottles and balloons popped uncontrollably.

“Happy New Year, baby.” Touch kissed me passionately.

“Look at this shit. Ain't nobody ever did it this big.” Touch then stood up on the seat of the throne. He yelled, “The world is mine!” and began to pour champagne on all those around him.

I shook my head as I watched. His boys encouraged him, handing him bottle after bottle, and the soaking wet groupies surrounded him. The bodypainted bitches were now virtually naked because the champagne had begun to rinse the paint away. The more I watched, the angrier I got. I'd finally had enough.

I called out to Touch.
This world is fucking mine. I made this shit happen. I'm the queen of this dynasty. I built the fucking empire.

Just then I heard a gunshot. In a state of panic, I looked up at Touch, and we locked eyes. Then, in what seemed like a split second later, I felt a striking pain in my head. I collapsed to the floor, and within moments, I could hear no noise. Everything was still and eventually went black.

 

This book is dedicated to my second mother, Ives Wynter November 8, 1954–January 24, 2009 May your loving memory live on forever.

 

 

C
lick-click
. I put a single bullet in the head of my chrome .22-caliber handgun, put on the safety, and then placed it in my purse. I clutched my purse and folded my arms to fight off the frigid winter air as I rushed toward Club Encore in an attempt to beat the crowd.

To my surprise, once I reached the front I was met by a swarm of people. It was pure pandemonium as I made my way toward the entrance. Noticing the attention of the crowd focused on a car entering the parking lot, I paused just long enough to get a glimpse of what was so interesting.

“Look at this bitch,” I said, rolling my eyes when I realized it was Jewel and Touch pulling into the club parking lot. I screwed up my face, showing full disgust. My blood was boiling as I watched them step out of their Maybach and onto the red carpet like they were the fucking king and queen of England. From the telltale red bottom of her shoes, I knew Jewel had on none other than Christian Louboutin.

Touch wore a suit, and I'm sure it was top of the line as well. I had to admit, he looked sexy as hell in it.

Suddenly, a flashback of the night we fucked consumed me. It was like I could feel his hands gripping my ass as he forced himself deep inside me.
Damn
. For a moment I felt my panties becoming a little moist from the combination of seeing him and reminiscing.

“Excuse me.”

My moment of admiration was broken by a ghetto chick who bumped into me, pushing along with the crowd in a desperate attempt to get into the packed club. Under normal circumstances, I would have let this bitch have it, but this night I had more pressing issues, so that bitch got a pass.

I burned with envy as Touch and his bitch headed toward the entrance. I should have been his trophy wife, the queen beside him on the throne. All around them stood crowds of people calling and reaching out to them like the fucking paparazzi, while others just stood in awe like peasants, wishing they could have one moment in their shoes. No matter which crowd they were classified in, the people still went unnoticed by “the royal couple,” as security guards forced people out of their way to open a clear path for Jewel and Touch to enter the club. The shit was so sickening.

Realizing I was amongst this crowd of peasants and paparazzi, I inched my way toward the front of the line, which wrapped around the building.

“Excuse me, sweetie.” I poked out my small but perky 34B breasts and called out to one of the bouncers who guarded the front door of the club, giving him my most seductive look. This fat-ass, baldhead, clean–looking dude just glanced at me and then turned his head.
Muthafucka
! I couldn't believe this guy.

Still determined to get in, I dug into my purse, bypassing my gun, and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. One thing I knew for sure is that money talks. This time I didn't even bother calling out to him. I just walked toward the entrance as though I were part of the royal court.

The same bouncer said to me, “This is VIP, ma'am. Are you on the list?”

“Yes, I am,” I said, sliding the money into his hand. Moments later, I was walking through the door with no search and no hassle.

I stood in awe as I entered the club. I couldn't believe the sight before me. Although I hated to admit it, Jewel and Touch were really on some celebrity shit. They had definitely taken things to the next level in VA.
Well, at least Jewel will have a hell of a farewell party
, I thought as I walked through the tight crowd, knowing I planned to make this night her last.

I watched the time as I made my way toward the VIP area. It was eleven-fifteen. I had forty-five minutes to make it to the back, where Touch and Jewel were partying. I wanted to be sure I was there to bring Jewel's new year in with a bang—literally. The crowd was going crazy to Busta Rhymes' “Arab Money” when I reached the bar. I purchased a glass of Nuvo and took it to the head to ease my nerves. Then, as an added prop, I bought a bottle of Ace of Spades, to look as though I belonged in the VIP area.

I knew it would be even harder getting past the security guard at the VIP section. There, niggas passed a hundred dollars all night to get in, so I wasn't sure that was going to fly this go-'round. After fighting a crowd of groupies, I finally made it to the entrance of the VIP. The time was now thirty minutes to midnight, so I needed to get in fast.

“Excuse me, hon,” I said to the security guard to get his attention.

“Malibu?” He called me by my dance name, causing me to take a closer look at him.

This must be my lucky day. This gotta be a sign that the new year is gonna be my year
. I let out a sigh of relief, realizing this guy was a bouncer at a club I used to dance at. I always felt dancing got me nowhere, and nothing but a few fast dollars, but this was one time it was an actual benefit.

“Hey, boo. How you been?” I gently caressed his arm as I spoke. “I'm trying to get back there and celebrate with my girl, Jewel. I just flew in from Atlanta, and I want to surprise her. I just bought this bottle, so we can pop it and bring in the new year together.” I put on my best game, all the while flaunting my breasts and putting on a few flirtatious gestures.

The security guard stepped back and unhooked the velvet rope, allowing me to go through.

I headed toward the back of the VIP area and found a quiet spot in the cut, where I could go unnoticed. There I spotted a sexy chocolate dude who screamed the signs of money. Everything, from his designer labels to his blinding diamonds, said, “I am that nigga.”

I couldn't take my eyes off his blinding, iced-out watch. If for nothing else but the diamonds, I had to have that nigga. I could picture him naked with nothing but jewelry—chocolate and diamonds, two of my favorites. I also noticed he stood alone. Since I had a few minutes to spare, I used this as an opportunity to possibly get to know him better.

“Hey, sexy,” I said. “You look like you need some company.”

“Oh yeah?” He looked my body up and down like he had X-ray vision and could see right through my Betsey Johnson dress.

“Yeah,” I said with my sassiest attitude, rolling my neck.

“I'm kind of busy right now, but we can exchange numbers and get up a little later.” He pulled out his cell phone, and I did the same.

“What's your name?”

“Calico,” he said, and then began to read off his number.

“Calico?” I took a deep swallow, hoping I'd heard him incorrectly.

He spelled his name out to me, “
C
-
a
-
l
-
i
-
c
-
o
,” confirming I'd heard him correctly.

His response floored me. My heart raced, and my breathing picked up. I tried all I could to keep my composure and to keep my shaking hand steady as I entered my number in his phone. I used the name Malibu to protect my true identity.

“Okay, baby, I'll be hitting you up. Enjoy your night, and Happy New Year.” I tried to play it cool. I excused myself and rushed out of the VIP and headed to the bathroom. There I gathered myself.
Oh my God
. My brain was racing and I could see my chest moving up and down as I inhaled and exhaled. I didn't have asthma, but I surely felt like I was about to have a damn asthma attack.

As soon as Calico said his name, although I'd never seen him face to face, I knew exactly who he was. He was the same Calico that Jewel used to fuck with, the same Calico that I stole one hundred thousand dollars from months earlier. The most frightening part was, I didn't know if he knew who I was, and if he knew I had stolen his money. I didn't know if Jewel had put the blame on me, or exactly what she'd told him about his missing money.

I looked at my watch, and it was now five minutes to twelve. Regardless of what happened, I was at the club on a mission, and I planned to complete it. So, I pulled myself together. I took a moment to look into the mirror, applied some much-needed lip-gloss, fixed my hair then headed back to the VIP area.

Just as I got through the rope, the countdown to midnight began. I spotted Jewel and prepared to give her that long-awaited gift as I rushed in her direction.

The countdown ended, and the crowd yelled, “Happy New Year!” Everyone went wild, as money dropped from the ceiling.

I watched as Touch stood on his throne, throwing champagne over a crowd of groupies. They looked like scavengers as they dove for the dollars that fell around them. Others just looked on in envy.

No one even noticed me as I took my time inching closer and closer toward Jewel. When I came within a couple feet of her, I tiptoed my way directly behind her. With fire in my eyes, I took a deep breath then delivered.
Bam!
One to the back of her head and she was down.

Simultaneously, I heard a deafening boom. Frightened, I turned around to see a fearless Calico standing with a smoking gun in his hand and the same fire I had in my eyes moments earlier. People scattered in every direction, screaming.

“He's got a gun!”

“Get down!”

“Where's Kita Boo and Tynika?”

Within moments, the crowded VIP area was clear, and all I could see was two lifeless bodies on the floor. One belonged to Touch, and not far from him lay Jewel. I knew who was responsible for Jewel's downfall, and the sight of her actually brought a proud smile across my face. Now, Touch was a different story. I didn't see him get shot, but I damn sure saw the smoking gun.

Luckily for Jewel, I'd decided to deliver a bottle to her head, instead of a bullet. Her man wasn't as lucky, though. Although I'd shared the same fire in my eyes as Calico, I didn't have the same balls. Gunshots in a packed club on New Year's Eve could only lead to jail. Too many eyewitnesses. Hell, I wasn't no career murderer, but I at least knew that shit.

Frantic, I rushed out of VIP, nearly knocking over the security guard on my way. I ran out the side door of the club to get to my car and get the fuck out of dodge. Moments later, I was in my car, peeling out of the parking lot, running over the curb and nearly tearing out the whole bottom of my car.

I sped down Virginia Beach Boulevard toward the interstate, passing six cop cars headed in the opposite direction. I knew exactly where they were going, and I was relieved to know I'd broken out in just enough time.

 

 

It wasn't until I reached my hotel room that I felt safe. I kicked off my heels and flopped across the bed. Thanks to Calico drawing so much attention to himself, I was confident that I'd gotten away with murder. He'd set things up perfectly. Any onlookers would be convinced that he was responsible for Jewel and Touch's deaths.

“Damn! What a fucking night,” I said to myself as I got comfortable under the blanket and reflected on the multitude of events that had taken place in such a short period.

I couldn't believe I'd actually witnessed Touch getting shot, or even worse, that I'd run into Calico. I pulled out my phone and flipped to his number. Initially I'd planned to erase it. I wasn't sure to what use I could put the number of a crazed murderer, but something in me said not quite yet. One thing was for sure: I had no plans on getting up with him. I had no intention of calling him and no intention of answering any of his calls. This was a dude that possibly killed a man by gunfire in front of an entire club and didn't give a fuck. I could only imagine what he would do to me if he knew I stole his money. I knew I had to get out of Virginia and back to Atlanta ASAP, but not before I got some much-needed rest.

At first I had a little trouble falling asleep, not because I'd hit Jewel in the head with the bottle, but because I wasn't quite sure if Calico would figure out who I was and come after me next. After an hour of tossing and turning, I finally dozed off to sleep.

 

 

The next morning, I was awakened by the sound of a ringing phone.

“Hello,” I answered in a cracked morning voice.

“Sasha Williams?”

“Yes.”

“This is the front desk. It's now twelve o'clock and past checkout. Will you be staying another day?”

“No. I'm leaving now.” I hung up before the lady on the other end could respond.

I grabbed the remote from the nightstand and turned on the television. My heart dropped to my feet, and I gasped for air at the sight before me. I shook my head and rubbed my eyes then turned up the volume to make sure what I was witnessing was real. And real it was. I panicked when I saw my face on the television screen.

I rushed to gather my things so I could get out of the hotel and on the road to Atlanta.

Before I could finish packing, I heard a forceful knock on the door, followed by a gruff bellow. “Virginia Beach police!”

I knew exactly what they wanted. Knowing how they moved and fearing for my life, I didn't even try anything crazy. One false move and they would swear I was reaching for a weapon, and my ass would be dead, twenty to thirty shots to the torso.

“I'm opening the door,” I yelled as I unlocked the door. “I'm not resisting.”

Several police officers rushed in, busting through the door with guns drawn. They threw me on the floor and slapped the cuffs on me in a single motion that seemed to take only one second.

“Sasha Williams, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney . . .” The officer read me my Miranda rights.