Dee Blackmon
Roberta Holiday flew down the speckled Berber-carpeted stairs as fast as her shaky legs would take her. She wobbled on the last three stairs but managed to right herself immediately. If she showed any signs of her addiction, then Carlos would never give her the money. He never dealt with hypes because he knew they weren’t reliable. But everything would be okay once she got the money. Life would be great once she got her fix.
She took a deep breath, stopped at the hallway mirror to put on lipstick and fluff her dull, flat, lifeless hair, then entered Carlos’s office. His handsome, muscular, mahogany body was hunched over his desk, the telephone pressed to his ear. She glanced around his office quickly. The office’s once stark white walls were now a creamy beige, and earth-tone accents had been strategically placed around the room. Plush throw rugs with beige, green, and brown hues were strewn across the hardwood floor. It looked rugged. It looked like ’Los.
Carlos’s voice rose above what Roberta knew for a fact was Christmas music. She distinctly heard the Temptations’ version of “Silent Night.” Roberta wasn’t sure if she was hearing things during her drug-induced craze, but she thought she heard one of the Temptations tell baby Jesus to “relax his mind.” If her situation wasn’t so fucked up, she may have considered laughing, because a man telling Jesus to relax was funny as hell. “I don’t give a fuck about Christmas. The motherfucker better have my money by tomorrow or he can start looking for a wheel-chair because I’m breaking both his legs.”
Carlos slammed the cordless phone down in its cradle, rolled his shoulders to relieve the tension, and looked up at Roberta. At least a shell of Roberta. His six-foot frame moved gracefully as he paced back and forth while looking at Roberta. He ran his hand across his short curly hair as he often did when he was in deep thought. Something was up with her. He intended to find out what it was, but he’d keep playing along like the fucking idiot she thought he was. So, since she asked for a loan of ten thousand dollars, he was going to give it to her. Now, whether she was telling the truth—about being in the process of refinancing her house and expecting the equity to be deposited three days before Christmas—had yet to be proved. Carlos had two weeks. So did Roberta.
Carlos sat back down and asked smoothly, “You show my cousin a good time, Bobbie?” In exchange for the loan, Carlos asked Roberta to sex his cousin, who he said hadn’t had sex in a while. Roberta had let his fat fuck of a cousin pump into her upstairs for a good half hour, and, while a part of her was disgusted, she chose to focus on her goal—money for drugs.
“Yes,” Roberta replied, thinking how much Carlos looked like the original Miami Vice star, Philip Michael Thomas. It was too bad his cousin hadn’t inherited such good looks.
“Now, what did you need the money for?” Carlos asked, as he rested his right palm on a pile of money.
Roberta licked her lips nervously and replied, “It’s just a loan until I refinance.”
When Carlos looked as if he was going to renege on the deal, Roberta hastily added, “I have the appraisal paperwork right here in my purse. The amount more than covers the loan.”
Roberta rummaged through her purse and produced a wad of crinkled-up papers. She handed them to Carlos for a quick glance. The papers were legit, but she didn’t want him to have too much time to think about it and change his mind.
Carlos handed the appraisal papers back to Roberta and said, “Take the money.” He slid a stack of bills across his desk and watched her place the money in her bag, with what he thought were shaking hands.
“Two weeks, Bobbie. Two goddamn weeks. Not a day more. You fuck around with my money, and I’m coming for whatever you hold near and dear,” he threatened.
“Thank you, Carlos.”
Carlos stared at her so intently that she felt like he knew she was getting higher than a helium-filled balloon released on a windy day. But he couldn’t have known. She was being ever so careful. Her own kids didn’t know, so there was no way Carlos could. She made certain to cover her tracks … literally.
When the black cordless phone rang again, although it startled her, she was grateful for the interruption.
Carlos jabbed his index finger in the air and said into the phone, “Either I get my money by Christmas Eve, or you tell that son of a bitch I’ll string him up by his balls and hang him on the Christmas tree downtown at the Monument. That will be his Merry-fucking-Christmas!”
The life of a loan shark, Roberta thought to herself.
Carlos stood angrily and walked to the lone window in the wood-paneled office. Christmas lights shone through the window and danced on the walls and the floor.
It was the reflection of a blue blinking light that drew Roberta’s attention to the floor. The blue reflection that blinked right beside a black duffel bag. A bag filled to capacity with cold hard cash.
Don’t fucking do it, Roberta thought to herself. Don’t do it! Even as the admonition entered her mind, Roberta found herself leaning forward, reaching for the money in the bag while keeping an eye on Carlos’s back.
She thought about all the crack she could buy. Hell, all the heroin she could shoot into her veins. She could taste it even as she thought about it. Even her teeth began to tingle. She could even buy her daughters Christmas presents for a change. Life for a little while would be great.
Roberta didn’t think twice about it. She grabbed three handfuls of cash and stuffed them into her purse. She knew she grabbed more than what Carlos had given her. No, not given, loaned. She had better remember that. She would be able to pay him back in a couple weeks, so she didn’t feel bad at all. Well, she felt bad, but not about taking the money. She had already convinced herself that she’d give it back before he ever truly missed it.
Roberta stood up when she heard Carlos end his call.
As he turned back around to face her, she barely looked into his eyes and said, “I appreciate it, Carlos. I’ll have it back to you in a couple weeks. I promise.”
She even gave him a hug as he stood there looking at her and not responding. She wished like hell she could read his mind. She needed Carlos to believe everything she was saying.
“Bobbie, I’ve known you for a lot of years. At any point have you considered me to be stupid?”
“Not at all ’Los,” Roberta mumbled, and tried to avert her eyes. “Are you willing to risk your daughter’s life on this loan? Because this time, if you don’t pay me back, I’m coming after her.”
Roberta fumbled with her purse straps then nibbled a piece of dry cuticle on her index finger.
“I swear I’ll pay you back. Just don’t hurt my daughters. Either of them.”
“Now that part’s up to you, isn’t it?”
Noelle Holiday shivered as the chill night air raised goose pimples on her café au lait–colored skin. She pulled her sky blue terry robe tighter and cinched it at the waist, making a double knot. Old Man Winter had hit early in Baltimore, and he wasn’t wasting any time.
Noelle peered out the window and saw Christmas decorations and lights on her neighbors’ lawns. At the age of twenty-four she was anti-Christmas. For starters, Noelle had been born on Christmas Eve, and for some strange twisted reason her mother had decided to name her after the Christmas song playing on the radio at the time of her birth. Secondly, why her mother would doom her to a life of teasing by naming her Noelle when their last name was Holiday was beyond her understanding.
And to make matters worse, Roberta Holiday still didn’t get it when she named Noelle’s eleven-year-old sister Paris. According to their mother, her youngest daughter was the closest she would ever get to having a real Paris holiday.
Noelle wondered where her mother was at three a.m. She prayed to God that she wasn’t with her demons. Said demons being crack, cocaine, and heroin.
Roberta had ninety days’ clean. Or so Noelle thought. She hadn’t had time to really check on her mother’s progress like she should. Hell, Noelle barely had time for herself. She was working three jobs to help her mother catch up on some of their bills, plus she was basically raising her sister. Noelle was exhausted.
Her every day started at five a.m., rain or shine. Noelle taught a six A.M. hourlong aerobics dance class, then rushed back home to cook breakfast for her sister and get her off to school. She showered and sped downtown by nine a.m. to Focal Point Barbershop, where she braided and twisted men’s hair. And if that wasn’t enough, she left the barbershop at two p.m. to pick up Paris from school, help her with homework, fix a quick dinner, then back to the barbershop from four p.m. to six p.m. And how could she forget her third job as a waitress?
Exhausted was an understatement.
Yet here she was, awake at three a.m., worried about her mother, even though her alarm would be chirping in exactly two hours.
Noelle slipped her cell phone from the pocket in her robe and dialed her mother’s cell for the third time. And for the third time the phone went right to voice mail.
“Is everything okay, Noelle?”
“Paris, sweetheart, what are you doing awake?”
Paris shrugged her shoulders. As she did so, the action reminded Noelle that she had to twist the new growth in her sister’s hair. Paris’s double-strand twist looked adorable on her. She was growing up so fast. Even though they had different fathers, Noelle and Paris looked a lot alike. They had the same high cheekbones, big chocolate brown doe eyes, and full pouty lips. Since neither of them knew who her father was, or what he looked like, each had to have taken after someone on their mother’s side of the family.
“Mom’s using again, isn’t she?” Paris asked.
Noelle turned from the window abruptly and walked over to the stairs.
“What makes you say that, Paris?”
“It’s three in the morning, she’s not home, and you have that worried look on your face. You want to go get her, don’t you?”
“Do you think I should?”
“Yes,” Paris replied. “I’ll go get dressed. We both know where she is.”
Noelle tightened the black scrunchie around her copper-colored curly locs.
“Okay, let’s go get Mom. But this time, promise me you’ll wait in the car.”
“I promise,” Paris replied with a lot of spunk and an attitude well beyond her years. “But if anybody bothers you, I’m coming in with the Club swinging. That thing can do more than lock the steering wheel.”
Noelle smiled. She wished she had had half the smarts and confidence at eleven that Paris had. The young girl was turning out to be a ride-or-die female all the way.
“Okay, Paris. Deal.”
Noelle cruised down one of the worst streets in Baltimore. Her ten-year-old red Toyota Camry threatened to announce her arrival because of a small hole in her muffler. Just as soon as she had some extra money, she was planning to have it fixed.
Noelle felt like a character on HBO’s hit series The Wire. It was certainly a familiar story line. And since the show was filmed on the streets of Baltimore, it was almost surreal. Inside one of the cruddy dilapidated houses was her mother. Noelle was just having trouble remembering which house it was.
“That one, Noelle,” Paris stated quietly. “The one with the green shutters. Remember?”
“Yes, I remember.”
Noelle pulled over in front of the white house with the green shutters and cut the Camry’s engine. It was déjà vu. How many times had she played out this exact scene? She couldn’t count.
To the ordinary eye, nothing about the house remotely looked like it was a crack house—other than its being in a bad neighborhood. There were no neon signs announcing “Crack House Here.” Noelle forced herself to keep the memories at bay. The last time she had been here it was a living hell. A goddamn nightmare. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself.
“Wait here, Paris. If you have any trouble, blow the horn.”
“Okay.”
Paris looked at the house then at her sister again. She hated this part. They never knew if their mother was dead or alive. At times Paris hated her mother for putting Noelle through such hell. She didn’t really worry about herself because as long as Noelle breathed air she would make sure Paris had everything she needed.
“Maybe we should leave, Noelle. If Mom wants a shitty life, then that’s on her.”
“Watch your mouth, Paris. Now stay here.”
Paris closed her mouth immediately. She instantly regretted using the curse word. She knew Noelle hated for her to curse, but she got so angry about her mother. Lately she was angry all day, every day.
Before Noelle got out of the Camry, she zipped her coat and looked around. The street was empty, but she knew it had eyes. Plenty of them. The streets were always watching.
Before Noelle closed her car door she handed the Club to her sister. Paris had the right idea about their mother, but Noelle felt obligated to help. This was, however, going to be the last time. She’d done one too many of these pickups. If her mother wanted to stay high and nod, tricking in and out of cars while constantly on the city streets, then she could damn well do it on her own. Noelle planned to take Paris and move to another city or, even better, another state. She knew how to hustle hard and make a home anywhere. Besides that, she had a job interview in New York in just a few days. If things worked out, she would take Paris and leave sooner rather than later.
Noelle didn’t even bother knocking on the door. The people who were in the house were always too damn high to notice anything, let alone answer the door. Soft lamplight barely illuminated the rooms as she passed through. She couldn’t really see anything, but she didn’t need to.
The strong foul stench of urine assaulted her nostrils. Dark brown shit stains covered the lower part of various walls, because druggies often couldn’t hold their bowels. Noelle had learned that the hard way the last time she had come to fetch her mother. On the way out of the house her mother had just stopped, dropped her pants, bent over, and explosively shit on the pea green peeling wallpaper.
She thought for a moment and tried to remember where her mother had been the last time she was here. Upstairs bedroom, Noelle thought. Last time she had gone upstairs and walked in on her mother performing a blow job with a ten-dollar bill in her hand. With the constant need to get high, pussy was a bargain.
Just as she climbed the first two stairs, she heard voices coming from the basement. Noelle changed directions and headed there instead.
The rickety stairs creaked beneath her feet but didn’t alarm anyone. She was careful not to touch the broken wooden banister for fear of getting splinters from the jagged edges or getting punctured by one of the many rusty nails. An odor mixed with smoke and liquor and something else that was unidentifiable assaulted her.
The basement was barely lit. Night-lights were plugged into a few of the electrical outlets. But it was bright enough for Noelle to see the faces of the men, women, and teenagers sitting together in various corners.
Noelle’s heart sank. She had hoped against hope that her search wouldn’t produce anything. And when she hadn’t seen her mother’s car in the area, she had an even greater hope. Hope, however, had turned into her own personal hell.
Huddled together with a group of men was her mother, completely naked. Roberta Holiday didn’t even have on a pair of underwear. Her body was filthy with a mixture of dirt, blood, and dried semen, probably from several different men. Noelle followed the trail of blood up to its source. It seemed that someone had bitten her mother on her right breast, and the wound was still slowly oozing blood. Her hair was tangled and all over her head, like a wild woman’s. Roberta Holiday looked ridiculously horrible.
How could you do this to me, Noelle thought. She was so pissed off, so fucking tired of being angry all the time. She was tired, period. She was supposed to be the child, but instead here she was being the parent yet again. All she ever wanted was a mother who baked chocolate chip cookies and gave a fuck about her day. Instead, she had a mother who would rather parade herself around high, naked, and kissing any Tom, Dick, or Harry—literally— than be with her children.
She walked straight over to her mother and lifted her up as if she were a small child. “Come on, Mom. It’s time to go home.”
Her mother just smiled and laughed. “But I don’t wanna go home. I wanna stay with my friends and play,” Roberta slurred.
“I said, it’s time to go home,” Noelle repeated forcefully. “But I have so many friends. And this.”
Roberta produced a glass pipe virtually out of thin air. It was still cloudy with smoke, as if it had just been used.
“Where are your clothes? Where’s your purse?”
Roberta just laughed, which made all her new “friends” laugh as well.
“I don’t know,” she replied. “I don’t fucking know.”
“Leave Bobbie alone,” a man slurred at Noelle and staggered toward her.
Noelle was a quick thinker. She always had been. That was the only way she had managed to survive and keep her sister safe in the process. So when the asshole began coming toward her, she didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the wooden banister, twisted, and was happy when the splintered wood gave way. She swung hard and was rewarded when she heard the dull thump of the wood against the side of the asshole’s head. His shriek of pain and the blood on his cheek was further confirmation that a few of the protruding nails had met their mark.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Noelle whispered, and literally dragged her mother behind her. She looked back for any signs of her mother’s belongings but saw nothing. No shoes, clothes, purse … nothing. All she saw were men’s dicks flapping as they tried to stand but kept falling on their asses.
And of course she heard the screams of the asshole who now had more than his personal wood to play with.
Paris jumped out of the car with the Club in her hand when she saw her sister nearly running out of the house. Then she took a closer look and realized that the woman behind Noelle was their mother. She didn’t have a stitch of clothing on, and she was laughing even louder with each step. When the older woman tripped over an uneven section of the walkway, Noelle literally dragged her mother along by the arm.
“Hey, what the fuck you doin’? It ain’t time for Bobbie to leave yet. She owes me another round of pussy. Another goddamn round,” a man yelled after them. “You’re not fuckin’ leavin’ yet. You hear me, you bitch?”
Noelle shoved her mother into the car and hurried around to the driver’s side just as the man came running toward the car.
“Paris, put your seat belt on.”
Noelle’s tires screeched as she sped away from the curb. She tilted the rearview mirror to get a better view of her mother in the backseat. Well, at least the woman who was supposed to be her mother. At the moment, Noelle was looking at a stranger.
Roberta Holiday looked as if she didn’t have a care in the world. She sat smiling and staring out the window as if it were a perfect summer day. That pissed Noelle off. Their mother had no right to disrupt their lives. It was all a bunch of bullshit, and Noelle was so goddamn tired of it all.
She had considered giving her mother her coat, but thought better about it. Since her mother was high enough to think and act like a coat didn’t matter, then Noelle sure as hell wasn’t going to act like it mattered either.
She was so angry. Angry for herself and angry that Paris had to be exposed to such a sickening disease. It hurt for Noelle to see her mother in such a condition, let alone for an eleven-year-old to see it all.
Changes have to be made, Noelle thought. She had to take her sister away from this hell they were dealing with. New York was starting to look better every day. All she had to do was get the job.
Paris looked up at her sister with her big chocolate eyes and uttered, “Thank you, Noelle.”
“You’re welcome, baby girl.”
Noelle fought to keep the tears out of her voice. They weren’t sad tears. They were tears of utter frustration. She had finally just accepted her mother’s fate. After all these years, Noelle realized her mother was simply a member of the walking dead.
As soon as Noelle ushered her mother into the house she started issuing orders then began to make a pot of coffee.
“Paris, can you get Mom’s robe, please? Then I want you back in bed. You can still catch a few hours sleep before school.”
“Sure,” Paris relented. “But don’t you want my help with Mom? I’ll be okay for school. I’m not a little kid anymore, Noelle. You know I can handle it.”
“Thank you, baby girl, but we’ll be fine. I know you’re growing up, but I’ll get Mom situated then get myself ready for work.”
“Okay. But let me know if you need anything else.”
Paris darted quickly up the stairs and retrieved her mother’s red silk robe. Then she did as she was told and went back to bed. Reluctantly.
* * *
Roberta’s high was starting to come down, and reality was setting in. For the first time in nearly twenty-four hours she realized the gravity of the situation. Or at least she thought she did. She wasn’t quite sure. She was fighting through a thick fog to clear her mind. And attempts at doing that were making her want another hit. There was no way she was going to make herself dope sick. She couldn’t handle that. Not right now. Anything but that … anything. She sat at her oak dining table and fought like hell to hold on to her high, but reality was crashing down on her too quickly.
She hung her head and looked down at her robe. Where the hell were her clothes? she wondered. She barely remembered anything. She fought hard to think and remember the events of the past day. If her life wasn’t so pathetic, she would laugh. Despite the chill of her skin, she was drenched in sweat. She cradled the mug filled to the brim with black coffee that Noelle had given her.
Roberta could barely look her daughter in the eye. What could she say? Sorry? She didn’t think Noelle would fall for that one again. So she remained silent and thought about a likely excuse to give her daughter, and most of all she tried to remember what had happened.
Dammit Roberta, think!
Roberta remembered going to the ATM machine the previous morning and finding out that her account was overdrawn by four hundred dollars. She was feeling so sick, and she needed a fix so badly. She remembered coming back home and searching both her daughters’ rooms for any money whatsoever. She’d found twenty dollars on Noelle’s nightstand and had taken it and bought a couple rocks, but they weren’t enough even to take the edge off. They were just enough to keep her from puking her guts out and getting the shakes.
But she needed more money, so she went … she went … Where? Where would I go for money?
The memory froze her face in agonizing terror.
Carlos!
“Noelle, where’s my purse?”
“I don’t fucking know. You tell me. I’m not the one who got high and can’t remember a goddamn thing.”
“What the hell do you mean you don’t fucking know? Where the fuck is my purse?” Roberta jumped up from the table and started searching. She looked in stupid, odd places such as under the dining room table and inside the china cabinet.
She couldn’t have lost the money. She had to have the money.
Oh Lord! All that money. Roberta had the original ten thousand that Carlos had loaned her, plus the money she had taken, which was another nearly fourteen thousand dollars. She got down on her hands and knees so she could look underneath the furniture.
“He’ll kill me,” she whimpered as she lay her head down on the carpet and openly sobbed. “I’m fucking dead!”
Noelle’s blood ran cold. Time stood still as she watched her mother sobbing frantically on the floor. Just when she thought things couldn’t get any worse. What had her mother done now?
“Mom, what are you talking about? Who’s going to kill you?”
“Noelle, where the hell is my purse? Why didn’t you bring it with us?” Roberta stood and screamed at the top of her lungs. She was beyond frantic. She was hysterical.
Noelle screamed right back at her. “I didn’t see your purse. I looked. No purse, no clothes, nothing. You didn’t have anything. Only a crack pipe, Mom. A fucking crack pipe!”
There was no way she was going to be blamed for her mother’s actions. It was ridiculous. Once she would have taken responsibility for whatever went wrong during her mother’s drug trips, but never again. Things were definitely different now.
Roberta rubbed a hand across her face and wiped her tears. She needed another fix. Just enough to allow her to think again. Just enough to take the pain away. Enough to erase the thoughts of Carlos killing her. But she knew she would have no such luck. At least, not with her judgmental bitch daughter hovering over her, asking her to remember things that she couldn’t. If Noelle was a good daughter she would have paid attention to all the details and found her purse.
“What about my car?” she asked. Maybe her purse and the money were in her car.
“Hell if I know,” Noelle replied. “I didn’t see your car and believe me I looked.”
“What am I going to do?”
Noelle stood up from her chair and questioned her mother one last time. She had to know what was going on so that she could protect Paris if necessary.
“Mom, you are going to tell me what’s going on and you’re going to tell me right now.”
Roberta’s hand shook as she lifted her coffee mug to her lips. After taking one sip bile rushed from her stomach to her throat. It took everything she had not to vomit on the table in front of her daughter. The back of her throat burned, but she managed to take a deep breath and swallow.
“Get it together, Mom and start explaining.”
“I … uh … I borrowed some money. Christmas is coming up and … and I wanted to buy you two presents.”
“Cut the bullshit. How much money, Mom?”
“Ten … no, twenty thousand … maybe.”
“What! Twenty thousand? There’s no way you can pay that back. What the hell were you thinking?”
Noelle grabbed her midsection to steady herself from the shock of it all. Where was her mother going to get twenty thousand dollars?
“What happened to the money?”
“I don’t remember,” Roberta whispered. “I know you don’t believe me, but I’m telling the truth. I don’t remember. I was stoned, okay. I was stoned!”
“Think dammit!” Noelle yelled. “What happened to the god-damn money?”
“I just needed a little something to take the edge off, Noelle. Things have been so hard lately, and I just wanted to relieve a little stress. I had the money when I went to get something. It was in my purse. My car keys, too. I don’t remember after that,” she confessed.
Roberta’s entire body began to spasm, she was shaking so hard. For the first time in her life she was scared. Terrified, actually.
Noelle shook her head in disgust. Twenty thousand dollars. Unfuckingbelievable!
“So you got high and your purse was stolen,” Noelle reasoned.
“I guess.”
“And your car,” Noelle added.
“He’ll kill me, Noelle. You have to help me get that money back. You have to.”
“Mom, go to hell.”
“How can I go somewhere I already am, Noelle? Tell me, since you know it all. How?”
Noelle walked into Focal Point Barbershop twenty minutes late. Her client had already called to say that he’d be late as well, so she didn’t feel too bad. It had already been one hell of a morning. She couldn’t stop thinking about her mother’s twenty-thousand-dollar debt.
She hung up her coat on the chrome coatrack then stepped around men’s outstretched feet as they sat on the wooden benches waiting for their turn and watching ESPN’s SportsCenter. The air was filled with the smell of paint. A fresh coat of sunny yellow, with cleverly placed accent stripes of forest green and gold, covered the walls. The shop looked cozy and comfortable.
“What’s up, Noelle,” Terrence called out as she passed his station to get to her own. Terrence owned Focal Point and the boutique next door but still cut hair. He was cool toward everyone. He had to be if he wanted to keep a good staff and clientele in the shop.
“Nothin’ good, that’s for damn sure.”
“Yo, my boy left outta here tighter than a mug yesterday. You did a good job, yo,” Terrence told her.
“Thanks, T.”
Just as Noelle got her supplies situated at her station, her client, Marcus, walked into the shop.
“Hey, Marcus. How are you today?”
“I’m straight. I’ll be better when I get this bush of mine braided, though. I can’t be lookin’ all crazy in front of the ladies.”
“I hear you. Have a seat in my chair.”
Noelle took a deep breath and went to work parting his hair and plaiting it. She was trying like hell to clear her mind and focus, but her mother’s tear-streaked face kept popping up every couple of minutes. She couldn’t shake the image of her mother crying at the dining room table and mumbling over and over again that she was going to die. Even though she knew she shouldn’t give a damn about her mother, she still couldn’t get that shit out of her mind and her heart. After all that had happened, Noelle still felt as if she owed it to her mother to help. After all, the bitch did birth her.
But so fucking what! You deserve to have a good life. You’re not your mother.
Thoughts raced through Noelle’s mind quickly. She didn’t know what she would do. But in the end, she was afraid that she did know. In the end, she knew that she would help her mother. No matter what.
“Yo, T, have you seen these before? These joints are tight,” Marcus called out, his voice snapping Noelle out of her working trance.
She looked up and saw Marcus holding a new pair of Nikes in his hand. The bootlegger who brought them in was confident that he’d unload them easily. He was a cocky young cat with cornrows, a tight shape up, and designer everything. He was obviously doing well at his profession of boosting merchandise.
“Those are nice,” Terrence commented, and set his clippers down to take a closer look at the shoes.
“They a buck-fifty in the stores but I’ll give ’em to you, yo, for seventy-five. That’s half price,” the bootlegger offered.
“You better get ’em, son,” Terrence told Marcus. “And they are size tens. Scoop ’em up before someone else does.”
“All right, I’ll take ’em,” Marcus told the bootlegger.
“I also got CDs and DVDs,” the bootlegger said.
“I’m good, man. Just the shoes.”
Just like that, the bootlegger made seventy-five dollars. There was no telling how much stuff he had “acquired” and was now selling in all the downtown barbershops. A good bootlegger made bank. Period.
“Yo, T, how much does he really make in a day?” Noelle asked Terrence.
“Yo is ’bout his shit,” Terrence informed her. “He just bought a brand-new BMW fresh off the lot. Yo makes bank fo’ sho.”
“How much longer, Noelle, ’cause now I gotta go buy a shirt to match my new kicks,” Marcus asked, interrupting Noelle’s thoughts once again.
“Fifteen minutes,” she replied.
Noelle continued plaiting Marcus’s hair all the while wondering how hard it would be to boost men’s clothing. And how much money could she make, and how fast?
Roberta pulled on an old gray sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. If she could just get a little something, she would be in good shape. She had to come up with a plan to pay Carlos back. But how?
The mortgage company had left a message on her cell phone to say that her refinancing the house wouldn’t be possible after all. Apparently the late payments she’d made had really messed up her credit. Carlos wasn’t going to accept that. The company apologized and said that they hoped she had a good holiday. How was she going to have a good holiday with no money? Carlos didn’t give a shit about what time of year it was. He would kill her if Jesus himself stood by as a witness. All Carlos cared about was that she paid him his money.
Dammit, she needed a hit. First things first.
Roberta bypassed Noelle’s room and went straight to Paris’s door and opened it. She easily found the bright pink pig with purple polka dots on it in her daughter’s underwear drawer. It was one of those ceramic piggy banks that had a horizontal slot on top, but no way to get the money out other than breaking it.
So Roberta did what any junkie would do. She slammed her daughter’s piggy bank on the corner of her nightstand. Coins and bills fell out, and Roberta scooped them up, smiling as if she had struck gold. She counted the bills quickly then added up the coins. Thirty-seven dollars and forty-three cents.
It was enough. Enough to hold her until she could figure out a way to get more money later. At least if she got a little something she could come up with a plan to get Carlos his money.
She had already come up with one good-ass idea. But that would take Noelle’s cooperation, and she didn’t think her daughter would help her at all. Not like before. They’d been closer before—before the drugs.
Paris, on the other hand, was the perfect age. Maybe … just maybe …
Roberta left the house quickly and started walking since her car was still missing. She didn’t care, though. All she could focus on at the moment was that weightless, floating feeling she would get with her first hit. She wished that feeling lasted forever.
A green older-model minivan slowed to her walking speed and kept pace with her for several steps. She looked over once, didn’t see anyone she recognized, and kept walking. Roberta didn’t even get alarmed when a man jumped out of the minivan’s sliding door and approached her.
“You looking for this?” the man asked her, and held out a crack pipe.
She looked into his face as if he were an angel sent from God to help her. He knew exactly what she needed when she needed it. That was surely divine intervention.
“Oh, thank you,” Roberta replied.
“Come on, get in,” he coaxed. “I’ll give you a private party in the van.”
Roberta’s smile grew even wider. This was her lucky day. Things were definitely going to change for the better.
She climbed into the minivan, and, as soon as the door slammed shut, she realized her mistake. Carlos sat in the middle row of seats, smiling in her face, along with his cousin from Alabama, a driver she didn’t recognize, and her new friend. Roberta pulled on the door handle, but the doors were already locked. She tried to unlock the door manually, but Carlos grabbed her by the arm and flung her into the last row of seats beside him.
“How you feelin’, Bobbie,” Carlos crooned as he smoothed down the hair around her face.
“I’m okay, ’Los. Thanks for asking.”
Roberta tried to remain calm and still the shaking that was inevitable from the combination of her craving and her fear. The fact that Carlos showed up meant she was in deep shit. She was either going to be really hurt or dead. She didn’t know which one would be better, truth be told.
“You want this real bad, don’t you, Bobbie?”
Carlos held out the crack pipe with a lighter and watched Roberta’s eyes widen and glaze over. He used to like Bobbie. But she should never, ever have fucked with his money.
“That’s okay, ’Los. I’m fine.”
That was the toughest statement she had ever made. Roberta wanted to light that pipe very badly. She literally twitched at the thought of the pipe touching her lips. God, she needed a hit.
“Come on, girl. My treat.”
Carlos held the flame to the pipe and set the tip of the mouthpiece right on Roberta’s lip. She shut her eyes at first trying to resist, but the temptation was too strong.
Roberta closed her mouth around the pipe and experienced true bliss.
“Have at her,” Carlos told his cousin as they traded places in the backseat.
His cousin positioned Roberta on her knees so her ass faced him in the middle of the seat and shoved her facedown into the seat. She saw bits and pieces of food crumbs buried in the crevices of the upholstery. She couldn’t seem to make herself care. Roberta had what she really needed, and it was wonderful.
He slid her baggy jeans down over her hips and got even more excited when he realized she wasn’t wearing any panties. Freeing himself quickly, he spread Roberta’s butt cheeks and shoved his dick inside her ass.
Roberta’s brief intake of breath was the only indication she gave of her discomfort. She would have been in greater pain had she not just had a hit.
He came immediately, then heard Carlos and the other two guys laughing at him.
“So you’re a two-minute brother,” Carlos joked.
“Hell, ’Los, I ain’t never fucked a woman in the ass before,” he drawled in his lazy southern accent. “That shit was supertight. Like I was fuckin’ a virgin. I had to nut or lose my damn mind, ’Los.”
“Where to, ’Los,” the driver asked.
“Go back to Roberta’s house. Since she can’t pay back the twenty-two thousand, three hundred dollars she owes me, we’ll wait for someone that will.”
Noelle walked through downtown Baltimore going into store after store. She was trying to work up enough courage to walk into one and actually steal something. She had never stolen anything before in her life. But then again she had never needed twenty grand before either.
Noelle entered another men’s store and saw only one female cashier in the entire store. And luck would have it that the cashier was completely entertained by the man who was trying to holla at her. She hadn’t even seen Noelle walk in.
Noelle went to a rack with some very expensive men’s shirts that were currently hot on the streets. She slid one, then two shirts off of hangers and stuffed them into her oversized gym bag. Just for good measure she placed the two empty hangers on the floor beneath the rack so it wouldn’t be obvious that shirts were missing. She turned and headed for the door, but stopped suddenly when she heard the cashier’s voice.
“Can I help you with anything?”
Noelle took a deep breath and turned around slowly. She prayed that she didn’t look guilty. “No, thanks. Just out Christmas shopping.”
“Well, yell if you need anything,” the cashier said, then promptly went back to talking to the man, a big smile on her face.
Even though her heart was pounding, Noelle walked out of the store as casually as possible. She had gone to one of the more expensive stores that didn’t use antitheft devices on their clothing. Stupid on their part, but good for her.
Once she had gotten a good distance away from the store, she took a deep breath. She had done it. The shirts had a ticket price of ninety dollars. She could sell them for fifty at the shop and make a quick hundred. She thought she would feel bad about stealing, but she was numb. Numb to everything except the need to come up with the twenty grand.
Noelle reached into her bag and ripped the price tags off the shirts, but kept the designer tags intact. She walked back to the barbershop. She had thirty minutes before she had to pick up Paris from school. She could unload the shirts by then. She had to.
“Hey, everybody,” she called out to barbers and clients alike.
“What’s up, Noelle,” a couple of the clients replied.
“Hey, girl,” Terrence greeted her.
“Yo, T, my boy came by and dropped off a couple shirts. They go for ninety in the stores, but he’s selling them for fifty.” Noelle came up with the lie at the spur of the moment. It gave her a good sound reason for having boosted clothing.
Terrence set his clippers down and took the shirts Noelle pulled out of her gym bag.
“Yo, I been lookin’ for this shirt. That’s what’s up.” Terrence reached in his pocket and handed Noelle a crisp fifty-dollar bill.
“I’ll take the other one,” Terrence’s client said as he peeled off a few bills for her.
“When you gonna have more stuff, Noelle?” Terrence asked. “These shirts been flyin’ off the shelves, yo. I’m surprised your boy managed to even get two of ’em.”
“I’ll talk to him later,” she replied. “I’ll see if I can get more stuff to bring in tomorrow.”
Just that fast, in a matter of twenty-six minutes to be exact, she had made one hundred dollars.
Now all she needed to do was steal nineteen thousand, nine hundred more dollars’ worth of merchandise. What the fuck?
Paris wrapped her black wool scarf around her neck. It seemed the weather had gotten colder since earlier that morning. Or maybe it was just her heart that had grown colder. She didn’t think her friends at school had to worry about whether or not this was the day that their mother would never come home again. She wanted to cry so badly, but she blinked back the tears.
Noelle had told her to go back to bed, but Paris had listened to everything from the top of the stairs. She knew her mother owed somebody a lot of money. She was so upset that her mother would risk everything for drugs. It hurt mostly because Paris thought she had been clean. It was all a lie. That’s all her mother knew how to do—lie.
Paris didn’t know what she would do without her sister, Noelle. Her mother sure didn’t take care of her or pick her up from school. But there was Noelle waiting for her across the street, like clockwork.
“Hey, baby girl, how was school?”
“It was okay,” Paris replied. “How was your day?”
Noelle thought about the shirts she had boosted. She most certainly wasn’t going to tell Paris about that. She didn’t need to know about the twenty-thousand-dollar debt. Truth be told, Noelle didn’t know why she was worried about it either. She hadn’t taken the money. Her mother had. Yet still she felt some crazy unexplainable sense of obligation to help with the bullshit. Maybe somewhere deep down she didn’t want her mother to die, even though she was on a definite path to self-destruction.
“My day was fine,” she replied.
“How’s Mom? Have you talked to her?”
“I tried to call, but she didn’t answer.”
Paris shook her head and sighed.
“We aren’t going to get her back this time, are we?”
“I don’t know, Paris.”
The rest of the ride was filled with silence. Noelle finally turned on the radio to Magic 95.9 FM. At least the DJ’s voice was better than the silence in the car. Neither sister thought too deeply with the distraction.
Noelle pulled into the driveway and cut the ignition. She wondered if her mother was even home. She wasn’t chained to the bed, even though Noelle had thought about it before she left.
“Homework today?” she asked as they got out of the car and climbed the porch stairs.
“It’s Friday Noelle.”
“Paris, do you have homework?”
“I did all of it already except start on my book for my book report. It’s not due until we come back from Christmas break, though.”
Noelle unlocked the front door and ushered Paris inside. The girl had a tendency to stop all action when she thought she had to talk herself out of trouble.
“Well, at least start on the book today so you can get a head start. Christmas will be over before you know it.”
“Yes ma’am, Scroogette.”
Paris flew past Noelle and headed to the kitchen for something to eat as most kids did right after school.
That’s when Noelle noticed the smell in the air. She distinctly smelled the cologne Eternity. She worked around so many men every day she could identify most fragrances.
“Wait a minute, Paris,” Noelle called out, but it was too late. She spotted the two men in the kitchen just as Paris ran in there.
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”
Paris stopped abruptly and stared at the men. She hadn’t heard anything when she came into the kitchen, yet there sat two men eating pretzels and drinking sodas.
“You must be Paris,” Carlos said approvingly. The little girl was beautiful. She looked like Roberta’s former self.
“Yes. And who the hell are you?” Paris asked, sounding quite indignant for her eleven years.
“What are you doing here?” Noelle asked breathlessly. She came up behind Paris and placed her hands on her sister’s shoulders in a protective gesture. She had a bad feeling, and she was willing to bet it was all because of her mother.
“Well, it seems, Noelle, that you and I have some business to take care of,” Carlos informed her.
“What business? What are you talking about? And how did you get in here?”
“Your dearly departed mother let us in,” he replied smugly.
“Dearly departed,” Noelle repeated in horror. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
She guided Paris toward the stairs and yelled for their mother. She heard a few movements and was almost relieved, except a huge man came bounding down the stairs. She called for her mother again, but got no answer. Dearly departed?
“Mom, Mom,” Carlos mimicked. “She is up there, but I’m afraid she overdosed about an hour ago.”
Noelle’s hand flew to her mouth in shock, and Paris pressed against her even closer. Noelle’s eyes filled with tears, and she willed herself to talk.
“She was a fucking junkie,” Carlos said with a sneer. “Don’t waste your tears.”
“Why are you still here?”
“I told you, we have business. Your mother owes me twenty-two thousand, three hundred dollars. Now that she’s dead, you owe me that money.”
Noelle’s heart fell to the pit of her stomach. What the fuck was she going to do? At that moment she wished that she could resuscitate her mother just to kill her again.
“And to make sure you pay up, I’ve decided to take some insurance.” Carlos snatched Paris from Noelle’s grasp.
Noelle reached out for her sister, but it was too late. The man who had eaten their ice cream took Paris from Carlos and tried to subdue her.
“Let me go,” Paris screamed as she kicked and clawed at the man. He was way too strong. It was like kicking a brick wall.
“This one has fire in her,” Carlos said, and laughed. “She isn’t anything like her mother.”
“Leave her alone,” Noelle shouted. Tears slid down her cheeks, and her entire body shook with fear. “I’ll get you the money, but only if you’ll leave her here with me.”
Carlos shook his head and smiled. He pulled out a 9 mm semiautomatic and caressed Noelle’s right cheek with the tip of it.
Noelle wished like hell she could get to the straight razor that she kept in her purse. Then just maybe Carlos wouldn’t be having such an enjoyable time.
“You will pay me my money, and I will keep the girl until you do. Now whether she lives or dies is going to be completely up to you.”
Noelle let out a sob. “I’m begging you,” she pleaded.
“Let’s go,” Carlos told his men. They moved toward the front door with Paris. “Christmas Eve, Noelle. You have until Christmas Eve, or the girl is dead.”
Carlos closed the door behind him, and Noelle ran to the window. She could hear Paris’s screams. She turned when the front door opened again.
Carlos stuck his head back in and looked at her. “I almost forgot. No police, or the girl dies.” The door closed again.
Moments later Noelle watched as the minivan pulled off, and she memorized the license plate number. She then took the stairs two at a time and found her mother nude and lifeless on the bathroom’s cold blue-and-white tile floor.
Sitting like a beacon on her mother’s chest was an off-white business card with Carlos’s name and phone number.
Bastard!
Falling to her knees, Noelle felt for a pulse on the side of her mother’s neck. A deep wave of sorrow washed over her. She put her head in her hands and sobbed, rocking back and forth. After about fifteen minutes of crying, a voice in her head instructed: “Pull it together, Noelle, and think!”
Shakily, Noelle took a deep breath then stood up. She had to call an ambulance. Then, as soon as they took her mother away, she had to figure out a way to get Carlos’s money. Paris’s life depended on it.
If the police and the medics thought Noelle was a bit impatient, they didn’t comment on it. They had chalked her behavior up to the fact that she had found her mother overdosed in the bathroom. They thought she was in shock.
She answered all of their questions as if she were on autopilot. Her mind was focused on just one thing: Paris. She didn’t even know if her sister was being fed. It was dinnertime, and Paris wouldn’t be home to eat. She prayed to God that her sister wouldn’t go hungry.
Once the last police officer had left the house, Noelle pulled Carlos’s business card out of her back jeans pocket and dialed the number. He answered on the third ring.
“It’s dinnertime, and Paris needs to eat. How do I know you’re taking care of her? Can’t you let her come home? I’ll still get you your money.”
“I’m not stupid, Noelle. She had a burger and fries. Don’t worry about the cost of food. I’ll pick up the tab. She’ll be fine until Christmas Eve. But the clock is ticking.”
Noelle hung up and grabbed her purse and keys. She had to get downtown. She didn’t have a lot of time. She would have to boost a lot of merchandise for some quick cash. She was sorry about her mother, but she loved her sister more. Carlos wouldn’t get the opportunity to harm Paris. If that meant resorting to stealing, then so be it. She would do what she had to do.
Noelle parked downtown and deposited quarters in the parking meter before she remembered it was after six p.m. The meters were free after six. She had one client’s hair to twist, and then she was hitting the mall. She decided to steal more men’s clothing and bring it to the barbershop. Hell, she would sell to anyone who would buy.
She waited thirty minutes for her client to show up. After he was officially thirty-one minutes late, she left and headed to the mall. She thought it was good that it was the end of the day because people would be tired of working and ready to go home. Noelle counted on that to help her get past the sales-people.
As she parked in the garage she thought about what stores she would hit first. She wouldn’t bother to pay for a funeral for her mother. Hell, the state could bury her. She didn’t give a fuck. The only thing on her mind was trying like hell to get the money to bring her sister home.
The first clothing store she approached was completely empty, and the sales associates stood directly in the center of the store talking. Then like clockwork they started going through each rack to check for loose hangers.
The second store she stopped at looked like a much easier mark. One employee left the store to go on break, which left one cashier on the floor. Like her first experience that afternoon downtown, there was a man trying to pick up the female cashier. Perfect, she thought.
Before long, Noelle had two shirts, a watch, and three bottles of cologne in her bag. They were all expensive items, so that was good. Her spirits were dampened, however, when she thought about the amount of stuff she would have to steal in order to reach her goal.
She would have to first sell nearly everything in her house and her car for starters. That would get her a few thousand dollars. Her credit wasn’t good enough to get a loan for that amount of money, so Noelle would have to hustle and hustle hard.
There had to be a better way to get her hands on twenty grand before Christmas Eve.
Working until the wee hours of the morning, Noelle gathered all the salable items from her house and put them in the dining room. Every television, radio, and DVD player would be sold. Even pieces of jewelry that she thought would fetch a price went into Ziploc bags. With her last bit of energy she took the clothing from her mother’s closet, along with all their leather coats, and hefted all of those items onto the pile.
At some point she must have dozed off because the sun shining through the living room window woke her up. When she checked the clock on the wall she realized she had missed teaching her aerobics class. She couldn’t muster the energy to care. Her mother was dead, and her sister had been kidnapped. Aerobics wasn’t a high priority right now. Her priorities were to get down-town—since stores would open in less than an hour—and steal as much as she could. Every little bit of money would add up.
Noelle zipped her bulky black winter coat halfway up. It wasn’t so cold outside that a goose down coat was warranted, but she could get away with it because it was December. She figured that she could stuff clothing down her coat, and the bulkiness would conceal it all. She was going to find out momentarily as she walked down Howard Street toward one of the hottest stores in Baltimore, Longevity. Anything that was hot on the street was sold at that store, and most often hot meant designer lines.
She took a deep breath then entered the store. The motorcycle in the middle of the floor was a definite showpiece, as were the crocodiles in a tank on the side wall. The store screamed exclusivity.
Noelle saw a few men in the back, but they really didn’t pay her any attention. They were trying to do something at the crocodile tank, feed the crocs, perhaps.
She picked up a few A. Tiziano shirts and shoved them down her coat. Next were a couple of Ed Hardy hats that carried hefty price tags. The hats were one-of-a-kind designs, and men loved them. Just as she was about to reach for another batch of shirts, one strong hand grabbed her arm and spun her around and another strong hand unzipped her coat. Shirts and hats fell at her feet.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Noelle peered through narrowing eyes at the tall milk chocolate man with locs as she weighed her options. Going to jail certainly wasn’t an option. Paris would die if she ended up behind bars. That meant talking her way out of this situation. Visiting central booking wasn’t a factor in her plan to get twenty grand.
“I’m sorry,” she replied.
“I don’t want to hear ‘I’m sorry.’ I want the truth. You don’t seem the type to steal. In fact, I’ve seen you around somewhere. Now tell me why you’re stealing from my homeboy’s store, or I’m calling Five-oh.”
Noelle’s eyes filled with tears as she stared at him. She didn’t need this shit right now. She needed money to get Paris, and this man was stopping her.
She stared at him a few moments longer. He was right about having seen her around. She was almost certain that he’d come into the barbershop once or twice to see Terrence. Besides, she was too damn tired to come up with a good lie. The drama in her life at the moment was worse than any fiction she’d ever read.
“You want the truth,” she began with attitude, “well, here it is. My mother, who just overdosed and died yesterday, went to a loan shark for money. She must have pissed him off because he killed her. But anyway, here’s the kicker. Said loan shark wants his twenty grand, or my eleven-year-old sister dies. So, since I don’t have an extra twenty grand sitting around, I’ve been boosting stuff on the streets. You wanted the truth—well, you just got it.”
“Everything all right, Parker?” the owner of Longevity called out, coming toward them.
“Yeah, man, everything is fine. Seems I made a mess trying to show Ms.—” Parker looked at her expectantly.
“Holiday,” Noelle supplied, wiping at her tears.
“Trying to show Ms. Holiday a few things,” he lied smoothly.
Noelle picked up the shirts and hats and put them back on the tables.
“What’s your first name?” Parker inquired.
“Noelle.”
“Yeah, right,” Parker laughed. “It’s Christmas, and your name is Noelle Holiday? Try again.”
“Look, don’t make fun of my name,” Noelle told him. “You think I haven’t heard that one before?” She reached into her bag, pulled out her driver’s license, and showed it to him.
He glanced at it quickly. “I want you to wait out front for me while I grab my coat. Then we’re going to Lexington Market, where I’ll treat you to breakfast and give you a solution to your problems.”
“You believe my story?”
“Yes.”
“Why would you help me? You don’t even know me.”
“Because I have a soft spot for women in trouble; you’re beautiful; and you obviously love your sister a great deal.”
“But how do you know I’m not some nutcase off the street? My sister means absolutely nothing to you,” Noelle told him.
“I’m guessing you’re not a nutcase, and you’re right, I don’t know your sister, but I don’t want her to die. No one deserves that, especially not an innocent child. Your love for her makes me want to help you.”
Noelle didn’t know whether to jump for joy or run like hell.
“Today is Saturday,” Parker told her when they arrived at Lexington Market amid the hustle and bustle. “When’s the last time you ate something?”
Noelle stared blankly at Parker. She opened her mouth to answer him but closed it when an answer didn’t come immediately to mind. After a pause, she replied, “I don’t know. Thursday, maybe, when things were still normal.”
“I thought you’d say something like that.”
Parker kept a hand at the small of Noelle’s back as he purchased two bowls of mixed fruit; two platters of sausage, scrambled eggs, grits, toast; and two coffees. He then seated Noelle at a table for two by the window and took the other seat.
“Eat first, talk second,” Parker instructed.
Parker didn’t have to repeat himself. She was suddenly ravenous. She really hadn’t thought about eating since dragging her mother out of a drug house. Her mother. She was actually dead.
“What are you thinking?” Parker asked, while polishing off the last of his sausage.
“I can’t believe any of this is happening. My mother is dead. My sister has been kidnapped. I don’t know where to begin….”
“First, we need to get your sister back home, which means getting you twenty thousand dollars.”
“Twenty-three thousand to be exact.”
Parker nodded his head and stared out the window for a moment. He hadn’t always been a savory character. In his early twenties he’d been a hellion and a mastermind at white-collar crimes. He had given up that lifestyle, though. Now he was just an ordinary citizen who observed way too much and knew a whole lot of crooked shit.
“What’s your sister’s name?”
“Paris. She’s such a good kid. Most days I feel like she’s mine. I guess she is now, actually.”
“Do you know who has her?” he asked around a mouthful of toast and grits.
Noelle blew on her coffee before she took her first sip.
“A loan shark named Carlos,” she replied, then took another sip.
“Fuck! Goddammit!”
“You know him,” Noelle stated sadly. No friend of Carlos’s would help her.
“Yeah, I know the bastard. All too well. How long did he give you to come up with the money?”
“ ’Til Christmas Eve.”
“You don’t have that long. It’s not about the money to ’Los. It’s the principle. He’s going to kill Paris just to make a point. If he gave you two weeks, you have only one.”
Noelle felt like a fist had slammed into her chest. What the fuck? This was all just a game to the asshole. Her sister’s life was at stake, and it was just a game.
“Shit. The key to getting Paris back is to get Carlos first.” Fresh tears spilled down Noelle’s cheeks. So she had even less time than she’d thought.
“Please, if you know of a way to save my sister, tell me. I can’t let her die. She hasn’t done anything to deserve this.”
“The only way to handle ’Los is to kill him before he kills her.”
“Oh my God,” she gasped. “How in the hell do I get close enough to him to kill him?”
“You won’t have to. Meet me for dinner. That will give me enough time to check out a few things and come up with a plan.”
Noelle nodded okay.
“Where and what time?”
“Seven at Ruth’s Chris downtown.”
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Noelle couldn’t help but be impressed, and a little intimidated, by the prospect of going to one of the most expensive steak houses in Baltimore.
“Take my number,” Parker said, before rattling off his cell number.
“Call if you get into any trouble. And stop stealing clothes.”
“I don’t even know your last name.”
“Norman. Parker Norman. I know, it’s not quite James Bond, is it?” he joked, and left her sitting at their table to start coordinating a plan to get Paris back.
* * *
Paris sat in a bedroom eating a bowl of Frosted Flakes and watching cartoons. She couldn’t really hear or see anything out the window. A black velvet covering was nailed across the windowframe. The man named Carlos must have known she would try to escape out of a second-floor window. The only way she knew the time of day was by the television programming.
Paris heard her door being unlocked and set her bowl of cereal down on the floor. She never knew what to expect. Sometimes the man Carlos would come into her room and just laugh at her. Other times the man who looked like Wesley Snipes would bring her food. “You want something else to eat?”
Paris looked up at “Wesley.” He had been the only one who had been kind to her. No one else cared if she ate or not. Carlos sure didn’t. She was afraid of Carlos, actually. He looked as if he would kill her at any moment. She tried not to piss him off, but he always seemed to be pissed off.
“You look like Wesley Snipes.”
He smiled and said, “You know, I’ve been told that lately. I think it’s the haircut.”
Paris eyed the cell phone clipped to his belt. She wanted to call Noelle. If she could just speak with her, she’d know she was going to get out of this nightmare.
“Could I please use your phone for two minutes?” When it seemed as if he was going to deny her, she forged ahead.
“Please. I just need to hear my sister’s voice. I’m just a kid. It would make me feel better.”
“Two minutes,” he replied, and closed the bedroom door. He unhooked his phone and handed it to her.
“What’s your name?” she asked as she accepted the phone.
“Ronald.”
“Thank you, Ronald.”
Paris dialed Noelle’s number with lightning speed, afraid Ronald might change his mind. She breathed a sigh of relief when her sister answered on the third ring. “Noelle, I’m okay.” She knew Noelle was worried and choked back her tears so she wouldn’t add to the stress of the situation.
“Paris, I am so glad to hear your voice. Are you hurt? Have you eaten? Baby girl, where are you?”
“I’m eating, and I’m not hurt. I just really wanted to hear your voice ’cause I’m a little scared. Are you going to get the money to get me out of here?”
“You know I am, Paris. Just hang in there a couple more days. I promise you’ll be home soon, baby girl.”
Ronald signaled for Paris to end the call, so she did. She at least wanted to keep him on her good side. She was grateful that he had even allowed her to make the call. Carlos wouldn’t have done it. She was sure of that.
“Thank you, Ronald,” Paris said, wiping her eyes.
“Sure. Hey I bought some cinnamon rolls. Would you like one?”
“Yes, thank you.”
As Ronald left the bedroom, Paris prayed that Noelle was right. She wanted to go home.
Noelle showed up at Ruth’s Chris Steak House with five minutes to spare. It was an effort for her actually to leave the house after Paris’s call. She couldn’t stop crying long enough to get dressed. But crying wasn’t going to bring her sister home.
So, clad in a slinky black dress, Noelle was prepared to accept whatever advice and help Parker Norman had to offer. She milled around the lobby for a couple minutes and began to worry when she didn’t see Parker approaching the entrance.
“Good evening, welcome to Ruth’s Chris Steak House,” the hostess greeted her.
“Hi, I’m meeting Parker Norman. Is he here, by any chance?”
The hostess motioned Noelle forward and said, “Yes, he’s here. Please follow me.”
Noelle spotted Parker immediately. The man had a presence about him and commanded the space quite well. And he was extremely attractive. He looked like he had just stepped off of the cover of Essence or Ebony. His dark brown skin hinted at a five o’clock shadow, and as she neared him she knew the heady musky fragrance was his cologne. He smelled really good.
She was certainly curious about him. What he did for a living … how he knew Carlos … whether she could trust him. For now, however, she had to trust him. She didn’t have a choice. He was her only real chance to get Paris home.
Parker stood as she approached. He’d traded in his casual attire from earlier for a blue pinstripe suit. He looked like a Wall Street power broker and fit in beautifully with the posh atmosphere. He was, however, the type of man who looked good in anything.
“I’m glad you made it,” Parker said, and kissed her cheek.
“I wouldn’t have missed anything that would help Paris.” Noelle fidgeted with her strand of pearls. She had a terrible habit of playing with her jewelry when she was nervous. She just wished she knew what to expect. She was coming into this dinner meeting blind as a bat.
“Paris will be home sooner than you think, so stop worrying,” he stated confidently.
“How’s that going to happen?”
“Let’s order first, then I’ll explain everything.”
After ordering, Noelle was barely patient until the wine was poured. She wanted to grab the bottle from the waiter and finish the task herself. The waiter seemed to draw out every action with a flourish, no doubt in hope of a big tip.
As soon as the waiter took his leave, she launched into all of her questions. “So, what’s the plan? And how am I going to get the money?”
Parker scooted his chair closer to the table and leaned toward her. He had done a lot of thinking and had made a select few phone calls.
“There’s a man by the name of Phillip Grayson. Everyone calls him Gray. Ever heard of him?”
“No, can’t say that I have.”
“Well, Gray has two jewelry stores. One downtown Baltimore and one in Pikesville. He specializes in rare precious stones.”
“He’s a black man?”
“Yes,” Parker replied, impressed that Noelle was picking up on the little things he hadn’t stated.
“A black man with a diamond store in Pikesville? That’s unheard of. It’s a strong Jewish community.”
“Exactly. That lets you know how powerful he is.”
Noelle took two sips of her wine then downed the entire glass.
Parker refilled it before she had a chance to ask. “Gray and Carlos are enemies.”
“Why?” she asked, drinking more wine.
“That I don’t know. I’m still waiting for that bit of info.”
Parker paused while the waiter placed their food in front of them. He waited a few minutes before resuming their conversation. He wanted Noelle to enjoy that first bite of steak. He watched as she daintily cut into the steak then brought the fork to her mouth. He felt himself stiffen when he saw her tongue dart out. He kept telling himself to focus on the conversation, but it was damn hard. The woman was very beautiful.
Parker cut into his steak as well, but he noticed that Noelle had put down her fork and knife. She was anxiously waiting for him to stop chewing.
“Go ahead and eat, Noelle. Your food is getting cold.”
“So what does Gray have to do with me getting Paris back?” she asked. The steak was really good, but she was having trouble eating. She just wanted all the details as quickly as possible.
“You are going to attempt to steal diamonds and emeralds out of his safe at home.”
“What?” Noelle nearly choked on her food. Parker handed her wineglass to her so she could take a sip.
“Notice I said attempt to steal. I’m going to help you get inside his house.”
“But if I don’t steal the stones, I won’t have the money.”
“My plan is to set Carlos up. Since Gray and Carlos are known enemies, think about what’s going to happen when you get caught and tell Gray that Carlos sent you to steal the stones.”
“Why would Gray believe me? And how will that benefit Paris? Coming between two enemies won’t get her home.”
Parker liked Noelle more and more by the minute. She asked all the right questions at the right time. He took a bite of his baked potato before he continued. “There are only three people who know about that safe in Gray’s home. Carlos is one of them. Gray will believe Carlos sent you because the other two people would never talk about the safe.”
“If the other two would never talk, how do you know about the safe?”
“I’m one of the two,” Parker revealed, and smiled. “And the only reason I’m telling you is because I don’t want your sister to be killed.”
Noelle’s head was spinning. Whether it was from the plan or the wine, she didn’t know. All she kept seeing was Paris’s sweet face, her bright smile, and hearing her voice which lacked its usual melodic tone as she replayed their earlier phone conversation.
If Parker thought the plan would work, then she was willing to try it. Nothing ventured … but she had everything to gain.
“So if I’m not really stealing the jewels, how do I get the money to get Paris back?”
“You are going to tell Gray that you will give him proof that Carlos sent you. You tell him that, and Gray will take care of the rest. Be honest with him. Tell him it’s your mother’s debt, and Carlos murdered your mother and kidnapped your sister for ransom.”
“Gray will believe me? And help me?”
“Yes, I’m positive.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I’ll be there. I’ll make sure he believes you,” Parker stated matter-of-factly.
That statement sent Noelle for a loop. She had been following along until that revelation popped out. “Wait. Why would you be there? You’re losing me.”
“Gray will call me the moment he catches you because I’m one of the two other people who know about the safe, like I said earlier.”
“How do you know about it?”
“Because I designed it.”
Noelle showed up bright and early at Parker’s downtown brownstone. Apparently he did quite well for himself. She had seen the silver BMW the valet had delivered curbside the previous night as they left Ruth’s Chris. And after learning that he designed impenetrable security systems for wealthy individuals, she knew that he had money.
Parker had explained that he could give her the money, but Carlos wouldn’t stop until he had what he really wanted, which was another murdered innocent life on his hands. The man seemed to get off on shit like that, Parker had told her. And when he was done with Paris, he would come for Noelle. Straight like that.
“Good morning, beautiful,” Parker greeted her as he opened the door and ushered Noelle inside. “Welcome to my humble abode.”
Parker’s crib was anything but humble. Expensive artwork adorned the walls, and authentic African masks and sculptures were placed strategically throughout the rooms. Both the architecture and the furniture had sleek lines, which fit his personality to a tee.
“I took the liberty of fixing you some breakfast. After we eat, then we get to work.”
“Okay, thank you,” she said, as she admired his paintings. Parker guided her through the house to the kitchen, where he’d set two places at the island in the center. Once Noelle saw perfect crepes on a platter, her mouth started watering. She hadn’t had such delicious home cooking in a long time.
Parker filled their plates, and poured two mugs of coffee and two glasses of orange juice.
“I like your shirt,” she remarked. “I thought you’d been to Focal Point before.”
Parker laughed. “I told you I’d seen you somewhere before. Terrence is a friend of mine.”
Noelle eyed the newest SHYO (Stop Hating Your Own) shirt on the market. The shirts Terrence designed to sell in his own boutique next door to the barbershop sold like hotcakes. It had been a smart business venture. Parker must be very good friends with Terrence, because SHYO couture shirts went only to a certain few VIPs.
“You’ve been to the shop and never asked me to twist your hair? I should be offended.”
“Well, now I know better. Eat up. It’s going to be a long day.” Noelle started in on her breakfast with gusto, because the sooner she finished eating, the sooner Parker could begin teaching her how to break into Gray’s home and his safe. She would be one step closer to rescuing her sister.
Thirty minutes later, Parker took her by the hand and led her to the study.
The room looked masculine, with chocolate brown leather wingback chairs, a huge cherry desk, and more African artwork. A map of Africa was framed on a side wall.
“How many times have you been to Africa?” she asked, eyeing a picture of him with Nelson Mandela.
“Four times for business, once for pleasure. It’s gorgeous there. I’ll take you and Paris once the fiasco with this asshole is over.”
“What did Carlos ever do to you?” she asked, sensing a personal vendetta.
Parker was silent a moment, but decided to tell her the truth.
“My mother went to Carlos for money ten years ago. When she met him to pay it back, he raped her. The money was for my college tuition, but I didn’t know she was struggling at the time. She became so depressed and withdrawn that she took her own life. I found out everything six months later when I finally had the strength to go through her things before I sold the house. She kept a detailed journal.”
Parker worked as he talked, pulling out blueprints of Gray’s house and a miniature replica of the safe in the closet.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” she told him.
“Well, now we have a chance to kill the bastard, so let’s get started.”
Noelle thought about everything Carlos had done and realized that she actually wanted the man dead. He had taken the one thing in life that was most precious to her: Paris. The only way she would feel safe for the rest of their lives was if he were dead.
For the next several hours Parker explained how the safe was designed and how to disable all the built-in security mechanisms. She asked question after question about which wires did what, which buttons were located where, and how the voice recognition program should be disabled.
Parker gave her a pair of tiny wire cutters so that she could get familiar with using them. He explained that, before she made it to the safe, she would have to bypass the alarm system to get into the house.
Bypassing the alarm actually seemed to be easy. It was the safe she was worried about. She kept forgetting the part where she was supposed to disable the voice recognition. It was crucial. The plan depended on her getting her hands on the jewels to make a hard case against Carlos. Gray had to believe Carlos was setting him up.
“Let’s take a ten-minute break,” Parker told her after seeing her frustration. He knew the design for the safe was intricate. Hell, it was one of his best designs. But Noelle was doing a good job learning everything. They were just going to have to practice a lot more, but they had all day.
“No, I’m fine,” she said. “Let’s keep going so I can get this right. Paris’s life depends on it.”
“Baby, it’s okay. You’ll get it right.”
Parker took Noelle’s wire cutters out of her hand and set them on top of the desk. Then he gathered her into his arms and held her as her tears fell.
“We are going to get Paris home. I promise. Now, let’s take a break, and you’ll feel a lot better when we get back to work. It’s what helps me.”
Parker slowly stroked her back and breathed in her scent. Before he realized what he was about to do, he dipped his head and kissed her gently on the lips. She responded with a kiss of her own that had his loins aching by the time they separated.
“Now is a good time for that break,” Noelle said, and backed away flustered. “Where’s your restroom?”
“Down the hall on your left,” he replied. “And I really meant what I said about Africa, Noelle. I want to take you and Paris with me.”
Noelle could do nothing more than nod her head. She couldn’t understand how such good and bad could happen all at once.
Paris watched the end of her favorite soap opera, Days of Our Lives. It was hard to focus on the show because she was so hungry, and she cried the whole time. It was Christmastime, and everyone on the soap was with their families, baking cookies or preparing turkeys or wrapping presents. She wanted nothing more than to eat in her own kitchen with her sister.
Ronald usually brought her three meals a day, and sometimes snacks, but she hadn’t seen him since he let her use his cell phone. Some fat man had brought her dinner the night before, and that had been it.
She wanted out of the room. She wanted food, and she wanted to go home. Paris balled her fists and slammed them onto the floor. She missed Noelle so badly. She even missed her sister fussing at her about doing homework.
Paris hadn’t even really thought about the fact that her mother was dead. Noelle had been mothering her for so long that she was just grateful that nothing had happened to her sister. Really, that would have been even more devastating. Paris wondered just how Noelle was going to come up with so much money so fast.
Her attention turned toward the door as she heard it being unlocked. She was praying that it was Ronald, because he was nice to her, but no such luck. It was the fat man again, with a pizza box in one hand and sodas in the other.
Paris hated him. She remembered his coming down the stairs at her house with a crazy grin on his face. He had the same exact grin now as he carried the food into the room and set it on the bed.
“Here you go, honey,” he drawled as he sat on the bed near the food, then patted the bed next to him.
Paris grew very scared very fast. There was something about him that alarmed her instantly. She was one of the few kids who stayed awake during the safety videos shown at school. She knew to pay attention to that weird feeling on the back of her neck and in the bottom of her stomach.
“I said sit down,” he told her forcefully.
Paris began to sit on the bed with the pizza box between them, but he smoothly slid the pizza and sodas to the other side, leaving the only available seat next to him.
Again, he patted the bed beside him and told her to sit down.
Paris didn’t want to sit down, but she did anyway. She kept as much room as she could between them, which was hard, considering the man was so large.
“You are so pretty,” he said, running the tip of his index finger down her cheek, which made her even more scared. There was no way she would be able to get away from him.
Please no, please no, she repeated over and over again in her mind.
When he stuck his hand out and began rubbing her leg, she jumped up immediately. It was turning into an awful situation. It was bad enough she was being held for ransom, but she was not going to let a man molest her. She didn’t want those problems. She and Noelle watched the Lifetime Channel together all the time. She wasn’t going to turn into a Moment of Truth movie of the week.
“You must not want to eat, then,” he shouted, picking up the pizza box and heading for the bedroom door.
Paris put a hand on his arm to stop him from taking the pizza away and shouted, “No, I’m hungry!”
“If you’re hungry, little one, let’s start with dessert,” he told her, then unzipped his pants and exposed himself quickly.
Paris screamed and closed her eyes as tightly as possible. She had never seen a man’s private parts before, and it terrified her. There was no way he was going to make her go near that big black ugly thing. She was hungry, but she was losing her appetite quickly.
“You put this in your mouth, then I’ll give you all the pizza you want,” he told her with a big smile.
Paris darted for the door, but he closed it with one big hand. The door opened, however, and Ronald walked into the room just in time to sum up the situation immediately.
“Get the fuck out of here,” Ronald said, and snatched the pizza box out of the fat man’s hand.
Watching the fat man leave, Paris had never been happier to see Ronald. She ran up to him and impulsively threw her arms around his waist and hugged him. Because of Ronald, she could finally relax and eat. Then before she knew it, Noelle would be there to rescue her.
“He won’t bother you again,” Ronald said, handing her the box of pizza.
“Thank you,” she replied, wiping tears from her eyes and sitting back on the floor in front of the television. Noelle had to hurry. Despite Ronald’s assurances, Paris had a feeling fat man was going to be back sooner rather than later.
“Are you nervous?”
“Scared shitless,” Noelle replied, then laughed. Nervous was an understatement, she thought to herself.
Parker walked up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. He loved to breathe in her scent and couldn’t seem to get enough of it. It seemed strange that they had met only a few days ago. He felt as if he’d known Noelle for years.
“You’ll be fine, baby,” he reassured her. “I’ll be able to talk to you and see you.”
Noelle pulled a black spandex shirt over her head and smoothed it down. Coupled with the black knit pants, she actually looked like a cat burglar. She had even tied a black scarf around her locs. She looked the part, but the question was, could she play the part?
Yes, you can! You have to for Paris!
Parker strapped a black utility belt around her waist and went over the contents again. She had done remarkably well the past two days, but repetition made for good memorization.
“I look like Batman, don’t I?”
“Batman is nowhere near as sexy as you are,” he joked. He found that joking with Noelle kept her calm.
“Thank you, Parker. For everything. I couldn’t do this without you.”
“All right let’s get you your mic and your camera. If you have to talk to me, remember to whisper. I’ll be able to hear you loud and clear.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll get to Gray’s house fifteen minutes after he calls, but you know I’ll really be only three minutes away.”
“Okay.”
“And Noelle …”
“Yes?”
“Breathe.”
Noelle checked to make sure she had everything. She left her purse and cell phone at Parker’s house. She didn’t want to risk losing something if anything happened that wasn’t according to plan. She checked herself in the mirror one last time and went out the door.
“See you soon, baby. Just stick to the plan no matter how nervous you get.”
Noelle nodded her head then went down the steps. The cold air hit her in the face, but she relished it. Being cold kept her from sweating from nervousness.
During the fifteen-minute drive from downtown to Pikesville, Noelle began to focus her mind and go over the plan, slowly building her confidence. She knew everything she had to do. She couldn’t fuck up. She wouldn’t. Paris’s life depended on her.
She breathed deeply and thought about spending Christmas with Paris. For the first time in her life she wanted to celebrate the holiday. And she wanted a relationship with Parker. She didn’t want to grieve for her mother, sister, and new relationship all at the same time.
Noelle parked around the corner from Gray’s home. Parker told her not to park on Gray’s street, which made sense. She didn’t want Gray knowing the make of her car or her license plate number.
She cut the ignition and tucked her keys into her pocket. The block was silent and cold, but Noelle didn’t hear or feel it. She kept trying to quiet the roaring in her ears and cool the inferno raging through her body.
Calm down!
Noelle took a deep breath, got out the car, and started down the street.
“I’m right here with you, baby,” Parker told her through her earpiece. “Stick to the plan, and I’ll be there with you very soon.”
“I can’t wait,” Noelle whispered.
Once she made it to Gray’s front door, she took out the appropriate tools to unlock the door. Unlocking the door was easy, just like Parker said it would be. Gray thought he was such a powerful man that no one would dare to break into his home; therefore, he didn’t use extra precautions such as dead bolts or home alarm systems. His prized possessions were in a safe that no one knew about. For all intents and purposes, Gray felt secure.
“You’re doing great,” Parker whispered. “Now, make your way through the house and into the kitchen.”
She walked quickly but quietly through the house. Once she made it to the kitchen she took a look around. Wineglasses and an empty bottle of vintage Merlot were on the kitchen counter.
Noelle turned suddenly when she heard laughter coming from an upstairs room. She began to panic immediately. Gray should have been asleep at three in the morning, but he was awake, and it sounded as if he had company. In fact, she distinctly heard a woman’s moan, and then the woman calling out Gray’s name in a high-pitched, shrill tone that would have grated on any man’s nerves had he heard it at any time other than during sex.
“He’s awake up there,” she barely whispered to Parker. “And he’s having sex with a woman.”
“Stay focused and get into that safe. He won’t hear you until it’s time to hear you.”
Noelle took a deep breath and stood at the sink, staring at the tiled backsplash. The safe that she had to get into was back there.
She pressed the painted green pear on the center tile and heard a soft hissing sound. She grabbed the bottom corner of the tile and pulled. The infamous safe loomed before her eyes.
“Now, open the safe just as we practiced,” Parker instructed.
Noelle held her breath as she disabled the voice recognition program, then began clipping the wires around the safe. So far, so good, she thought. The hardest part was done. When she went to type in the combination, her mind went blank.
“Parker, the combination.”
Parker immediately rattled off the numbers at the same time she heard Gray’s voice at the top of the stairs.
“He’s coming down,” Noelle said quickly.
“Move fast and get the jewels.”
“Gray, come back, baby,” the upstairs female voice called out.
Thankfully, Noelle heard Gray retrace his footsteps. She worked quickly and finally held four black velvet pouches in her hand.
“Fifteen seconds, Noelle.”
She knew that was how long before Gray would come running downstairs with a Glock, ready to fire. By removing the jewels, she had purposely tripped the silent alarm that was triggered once the weight of the jewels was removed. Now the real plan was beginning.
“What the fuck?” Noelle heard Gray shouting upstairs, and she knew he was on his way downstairs.
“He’s coming,” she whispered.
“Stay focused and tell him exactly what happened.”
She took off toward the front door as if she were trying to escape just as Gray ran down the stairs, the Glock aimed toward her head and his finger on the trigger.
“Hold it right there, motherfucker,” Gray said through gritted teeth.
Noelle immediately stopped and held up her hands. “Don’t fucking shoot,” she told Gray. “I had to break into your safe or he’ll kill her.”
“What the hell is going on?” asked the woman who stood at the top of the stairs wearing a red silk robe.
“Get your ass back upstairs, Miranda,” Gray told her as he moved closer to Noelle.
She had evidently piqued his curiosity enough that he hadn’t shot her yet.
“Start talking, bitch, or you’re dead,” Gray yelled. “Who’s going to kill who?”
“Carlos killed my mother and kidnapped my little sister, Paris. I have to pay back my mother’s debt, or he’ll kill Paris.”
Noelle slowly sat the four black velvet pouches on the floor in front of her.
“How much does Carlos want?” he asked.
“Twenty-three thousand.”
“Do you know how much those stones are worth?”
“No, I don’t. I’m sure it’s much, much more than twenty grand. I just want my sister back home. She’s only eleven.”
“Why the fuck should I believe you?” Gray asked as he lowered his gun.
“How else would I know where your safe is?”
“Go into the living room and sit down,” he instructed.
Noelle cautiously moved into the living room and took a seat. So far things were going according to plan. Gray seemed to believe her. “Here comes the call, baby,” Parker said through her earpiece. She was glad that Parker was with her. It was scary enough having a gun held on her twice in a matter of days. It felt like she was living someone else’s life.
Gray picked up a sleek silver cordless phone and dialed a number. She knew who he was calling.
“Get your ass here in fifteen minutes.”
Gray set the phone down and began to question Noelle further.
“How long have you known Carlos?”
“I just met him the day he killed my mother. He was waiting in my house for my sister and me to return home.”
“Why did your mother take out a loan?”
Noelle shrugged her shoulders at first, but remembered she was to be as truthful as possible.
“I thought my mother was clean, but she relapsed. She wanted the money for drugs, I’m sure. While she was high, someone stole her purse, which had the money she had borrowed in it.”
“Gray, is everything all right?” Miranda yelled. “Yes, honey. Go back to bed.”
Gray asked a few more questions before the doorbell rang. “Don’t move,” he ordered, and went to answer the door.
“This will be the last time that motherfucker tries to steal from me,” Gray announced.
“I know you’re pissed, Gray, but you don’t need trouble right now,” Parker said.
“I don’t have to be there, but there will be trouble. Count on it. You get anything else from the girl?”
Parker glanced over at Noelle sitting on the couch wringing her hands nervously. She was holding up like a champ.
“No, nothing more. I made a few calls. Everything she said checks out. She just wants to get her sister back. And from what I’ve learned, she needs to get the little one now. It seems Carlos’s cousin has developed a thing for little girls.”
Gray glanced at Noelle, who shuddered upon hearing about the cousin. He was getting too old for this bullshit. He regretted not taking care of Carlos years ago. But he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
“Call Cocoa. Tell her I have a job for her,” Gray told Parker.
“What time and where should I tell her to meet us?”
“One hour. But she’s not meeting us. We’ll meet her. She’s to call me when she gets situated.”
Parker pulled out his cell phone.
“Noelle, you ready to get your sister?” Gray asked.
“Yes. That’s all I want.”
“Well, call Carlos and tell him you have the money. Tell him that you’ll be there in an hour and that you’re bringing your friend Cocoa with you because she needs a loan.”
“I hope you don’t mind my asking,” she began, “but who is Cocoa?”
“A man’s worst fucking nightmare,” Parker stated with a smile. Cocoa was one goddamn foxy bitch.
Noelle turned around when she heard a woman call her name. She had almost missed the sound because she was concentrating so much on keeping her legs from giving out on her. She was terrified of what was about to happen. She didn’t know the whole plan, but, ultimately, Carlos was going to get fucked up. And she had to make sure Paris was safe in the process.
“Morning, I’m Cocoa.”
Noelle looked at a woman who seemed as if she should be in Hollywood. She wore designer labels from head to toe. Prada sunglasses caught the beginnings of sunrise, a mink jacket kept the morning chill away, Apple Bottom jeans were tight enough you could count the change in her back pockets, and black Jimmy Choos adorned her feet. She looked damned good. And she certainly had the best weave Noelle had ever seen. That’s if it was a weave at all.
That might actually be the bitch’s hair, she thought, staring at Cocoa’s shoulder-length curly black hair with the brownish gold highlights.
“I’m Noelle. Thank you for coming.”
“When we go inside, tell the bastard you want to see your sister first, then let me take it from there.”
Noelle rang the doorbell and waited. A few seconds later Ronald answered the door. She had found out that he was a friend of Parker’s working on the inside to keep an eye on Carlos. She remembered his being at the house the day Carlos kidnapped Paris.
“Noelle, Paris is okay,” Ronald said hurriedly. “Cocoa, good to see you, baby.”
Ronald opened the door wide to let them inside. They followed him into Carlos’s office and took seats in front of his desk.
“He’ll be in here in a minute,” Ronald told them. “Cocoa, I’ll be close by.”
“That’s good to know, handsome,” Cocoa said with a smile, and blew him a kiss.
Once Ronald left, Cocoa issued Noelle a reminder. “Remember to get Paris in here before you show him any cash.”
“But I don’t have any cash,” Noelle whispered.
“He doesn’t know that. Just get him to let you see Paris.”
Noelle and Cocoa sat silently for a good five minutes before Carlos came into his office. He wasted no time, except to stare at Cocoa for an extra ten seconds before sitting at his desk.
Since Carlos wanted to stare, Cocoa gave him something to look at. She inserted her index finger into her mouth, bobbed her head up and down a few times, then made a loud smacking sound as she pulled her wet finger out of her mouth.
She batted her eyelashes, gave Carlos a smoldering stare, and said, “I’m sorry, it’s just a lil’ ol’ habit I have to keep my lipstick from getting on my teeth. It works wonders.”
“You are delicious,” he said to Cocoa, then turned to Noelle. “Where’s the fucking money?”
Carlos cut right to business, making himself forget that he’d just seen probably the most beautiful, erotic creature of his life.
“Let me see Paris first,” Noelle told him.
“I don’t have time to play any fucking games. Where’s my god-damn money?”
“No money until I lay eyes on my sister, Carlos.”
Carlos smiled. “If your mother was half the woman you are, she would probably be alive right now, and you wouldn’t be in this situation.”
Carlos picked up the cordless phone on his desk and placed a call. A few short minutes later an overweight man came in with Paris in tow.
“Noelle!” Paris started across the office but was stopped by a big grubby hand.
“Paris, baby, are you okay?”
“I’m okay.”
“Touching,” Carlos mocked. “Now where’s my money?”
Cocoa sprang into action so fast that she actually looked like a female action hero from the movies. She vaulted over Carlos’s desk, reached inside her mink jacket, and produced a syringe filled with a clear substance. Cocoa plunged the needle into Carlos’s neck so fast that if Noelle would have blinked, she would have missed it.
“What the fuck are you doing?” the fat man shouted.
Cocoa pulled a 9 mm with a silencer on it from her waistband and silenced Carlos’s cousin with a single bullet to the head, then turned her attention back to Carlos.
“You have been injected with a paralyzing agent,” Cocoa told him, and laughed seductively. The sound was so melodious that Noelle thought she could probably sing like Patti LaBelle if she wanted.
“I’m sure you’re really pissed right now, but no one gives a fuck. I’d ask you if you had any last words, but you can’t talk, so fuck you.”
Carlos tried to move but couldn’t. Noelle could see the panic in his eyes.
Paris had remained frozen the entire time. She kept staring at the bullet wound on fat man’s head. She was glad that he was dead. Especially because he had a thing for little girls. “Noelle!” Paris ran to her sister.
She hadn’t known if she would ever see Noelle again. She went into her sister’s arms and hugged her like she had never hugged her before.
“I missed you so much, Noelle! I even missed you telling me to do my homework.”
“I missed you, too, baby girl.”
“Carlos, you have visitors,” Cocoa announced, and swiveled his chair around just in time to see Gray and Parker walk through his office door. “Go on and say hello to your friends.”
Cocoa slapped Carlos on the back of his head and laughed. She loved her job so much. Being a female assassin was quite enjoyable. Especially when she got to deal with vermin like Carlos. Those were the kills she relished.
“Carlos, you sorry motherfucker,” Gray said. He walked over and spit in his face.
Parker stood his ground and kept an eye on Noelle and Paris. He was glad to see the sisters reunited. His plan had worked out well. Now he was enjoying every minute of watching Carlos’s soon-to-be corpse helpless in that chair.
“This will teach you to steal from me,” Gray told Carlos’s paralyzed body as he pulled out a Magnum .357 that would rival Dirty Harry’s gun any day. “I will see you in hell.”
Gray pulled the trigger and blew a hole in the center of Carlos’s chest.
“What do we have here?” Gray asked as he bent down to the duffel bag beside Carlos’s desk. He unzipped it and found the bag full of crisp benjamins.
Gray took his time and counted out one hundred bills, then repeated the process. He gave the first stack to Cocoa.
“Cocoa, thank you for being available on such short notice,” Gray told her.
“Anything for you, Gray. I think I’ll use this ten thousand to fly to Italy to pick up a few more pairs of shoes.”
“That’s my girl,” Gray said affectionately.
Gray handed the other ten thousand to Parker. “This is a down payment. I need another safe designed.”
“No problem, Gray. I’ll get right on it,” Parker replied.
Gray zipped the duffel bag, still full with the rest of the money, and handed it to Noelle.
“Give your mother a proper burial, put away a college fund for your sister, and have some fun. You have a lot of responsibility for someone so young.”
Noelle accepted the duffel bag with shaking hands. Her mind was spinning. The bag was full of one-hundred-dollar bills.
“I don’t know what to say,” Noelle sputtered.
“Say you won’t ever try to break in my house again.” Gray laughed. “All right, everybody, let’s get the fuck out of Dodge in case the neighbors heard that gunshot. It would cost a lot of my money to bail all you motherfuckers out of jail and even more for your silence.”
“Call me the next time you need me, Gray,” Cocoa said as she stood, adjusted her shades, and walked out the house.
“Parker, you’ll make sure Noelle and her sister get home safely?”
“It would be my honor, Gray.”
Gray winked at Parker. “She is drop-dead gorgeous, isn’t she? I mean, shawty is phat!”
Parker laughed. Gray always sounded as if he belonged on Wall Street rather than in the ’hood.
“I have to agree with you, Gray. I haven’t met someone as beautiful as Noelle in a long time.”
“Well, don’t fuck up,” Gray instructed.
“Don’t worry, I won’t.”
Gray walked out, leaving Parker, Noelle, and Paris all alone. “Well, ladies, after you.”
“How can I ever thank you, Parker?” Noelle asked, still clutching both Paris and the duffel bag.
“You and Paris can spend Christmas with me.”
Noelle smiled. For the first Christmas in a long time, she had a reason to celebrate.