Games Women Play Page 4

  Tuesday couldn’t push him off and didn’t dare try. The Heckler was still in her bag but there was no way she could reach it and get off a kill shot before that .454 made her head pop like a balloon filled with Kool-Aid.

  “You think you’re pretty don’t you bitch? With your high-yellow skin and green eyes.” When Tuesday didn’t answer, he pressed the gun harder into her cheek. “Don’t you, bitch?!”

  “Yeah.”

  “Say it,” he demanded through clenched teeth.

  “Yeah, I think I’m pretty.” Tuesday sounded like a robot. The words were flat with no emotion.

  “Bitch, you ain’t shit!” he spat furiously. For Dresden it wasn’t enough to violate Tuesday; as always, he needed to degrade and humiliate her before committing the ultimate act of female disrespect.

  “Bitch, you’re ugly!” he cooed, still running his hands over her body. “My wife puts your black ass to shame—long blond hair, eyes bluer than mine, perfect tits—she’s not a whore like you. Say it, say you’re a whore!”

  “I’m a whore,” she repeated in that same mechanical tone. There was no fear or shame in her eyes because Tuesday knew that this was a part of his twisted little game and during her life she’d been through far too much to ever let a piece of shit like Kyle Dresden break her. Plus, the sad truth was that he wasn’t the first man to have sexually abused her.

  “I see you ghetto rats with your painted-up monkey lips and big gorilla asses!” He spun Tuesday around and threw her face-first into the door. He groped at her butt hungrily and stared at it mesmerized. “Look at it, it’s disgusting!” He put the gun aside so that he could enjoy her body with both hands.

  Tuesday mocked him with a dry laugh. “It’s so disgusting but you can’t keep yo damn hands off it?”

  “Shut up, whore!” He threw his forearm into the back of her neck again then pulled his wallet out and brought the badge up to where she could see it. “Do you know what that means?” he whispered while rubbing his hand between her legs. “That means within the city of Detroit I’ve got the God-given right to take whatever I want from you niggers! Your houses and cars, your money, your drugs, and even your pussy!”

  He quickly undid Tuesday’s pants and forced her tight jeans down to her ankles. He groaned with delight when he saw her thick, flawless legs and the pink bikini panties she wore underneath. He pulled her close and began to grind his crotch into her soft bottom. “It’s your fault. You put African voodoo on my dick!” He grumbled in her ear, “I haven’t fucked my wife in months!”

  Dresden dropped his pants and boxers in one motion. He fished the condom from his wallet and slipped it on. He then snatched down Tuesday’s panties and aggressively pushed inside her.

  He pumped her from behind then yanked her head back with a fistful of hair. His voice was now whiny as he whispered to her: “You ugly ass black bitch, this pussy is sooo good! It’s your fault I don’t fuck my wife anymore. I jack off every day to you.”

  Tuesday might have been molested when she was younger but never allowed herself to play the victim’s role. She learned that in situations like this it was better to take the initiative to get it over with as soon as possible. She threw her ass back into him and played on his secret desires. “You know I ain’t ugly. I’m a sexy-ass bitch, ain’t I?”

  Pumping faster to keep up with her pace, he moaned: “Yes!”

  She snapped at him. “Say it!”

  He groaned in ecstasy. “Oh, Tuesday, you’re so damned sexy!”

  She began to throw it even faster, practically bouncing him off her ass. “The reason you so mad is because yo wife ain’t black! You wish she looked like me, don’t you?”

  His whines were louder and more pathetic. “Yes! Yes!”

  “You wish she had my pretty skin, my lips, my fat, juicy ass and my sweet black pussy. Don’t you, you little-dick muthafucka?”

  He cried, “Yes!! Yes!!”

  Tuesday was bucking wildly, her ass slapping loudly against his pelvis. He reached beneath her shirt for her titties then let out a feminine cry: “Oh shit, Tuesday!” He grabbed her slender waist and his body went stiff as he began to fill the condom with a fat wad.

  When he was done, Dresden collapsed on her back breathing hard. Tuesday had taken him from penetration to climax in only ninety seconds.

  She checked her watch then looked over her shoulder at him. “I told you I had to be somewhere in twenty minutes, and if you get the fuck off me I can still get there early.”

  Tuesday didn’t actually have to be anywhere in twenty minutes. She had just hoped that faking a previous appointment would help her to avoid Dresden’s dick but since it didn’t work there was no need to keep up the front.

  She took a quick ten-minute shower in the motel bathroom then spent another ten in the mirror. She had a hair appointment tomorrow but used the tools in her purse to make herself look presentable until then.

  When her hair was done she just took a moment to study her reflection. She noticed the formation of the laugh lines around her mouth that would only deepen with age.

  However, what troubled her the most were her eyes. They were still that pretty shade of green but even to Tuesday they seemed to lack something. They looked tired and vacant. If they were truly the windows to the soul, she imagined only a black emptiness was inside her.

  She was thirty-seven now. Still fine, but still thirty-seven. Still setting niggas up, still being abused and still getting fucked in cheap motel rooms. She thought she would’ve been past all of this by now. Pained, she slammed her palms down onto the counter that held the sink but did not cry. She had cried too much in this life already and that well had dried up long ago. She had no more tears to give anybody, not even herself. Besides, Tuesday learned that anger was much more productive than self-pity.

  She was as angry at herself as she was at Dresden. She hoped he would have left during her shower but still heard him moving around in the anterior room. She took the Heckler from her purse and again thought about going in there to kill him. First she’d make him beg for his life then shoot him in his tiny dick. Then only after he’d whimpered and cried long enough to satisfy her vengeance would she almost mercifully put a bullet between his pale blue eyes.

  The thing that stopped her was the same thing that had stopped her every time before: the gold shield he had taunted her with. If she killed a lieutenant in that fashion, not only would she incur the wrath of his precinct, but the entire Detroit police force and possibly the feds would be at her head. That was heat Tuesday didn’t need.

  Another reason she didn’t kill Dres was because, as much as she hated to admit it, the bastard was useful. Being a dirty cop meant that he had connections within the force and criminal world that made him a valuable asset. He had a line on the dope boys pushing the most weight, the gun dealers, the chop shops, and forgers. Thanks to Dresden their bulletproof vests were police-issue and when one of the girls had a mark they could produce phony ID’s, Social Security numbers, and even birth certificates to get fake phones, rental spots, and cars. He had his ear to the streets and knew who was out there doing what in the game. Plus his sources were typically reliable; Tank had been his only fuckup. Sometimes she convinced herself that having to give up a little pussy was just the cost of doing business.

  Then there were times like this when she felt that it wasn’t. Dresden was a sad contradiction in that he was a white supremacist with a yearning for black women. But sad or not, Tuesday knew that this little arrangement couldn’t go on forever and that eventually he was going to have to be dealt with.

  When she came out the bathroom he was sitting on the edge of the bed with the TV off. He still wore the perpetual frown that seemed to have been chiseled onto his face but the blue eyes were not so hard.

  “Tell the girls I’m sorry about how things went with Humphries,” Dresden said in a voice that was now thin. “I know you would never try ’n’ pull one over on me. I know you’re better than that.” He glance
d up into her now gray eyes then looked away meekly.

  Tuesday wasn’t surprised by this sudden change in Dresden’s personality because she’d seen it before. The racism and the tough-guy act always melted away after he got his rocks off, to be replaced by this sad-puppy-who’d-just-got-caught-pissing-on-the-carpet routine. Each time after he’d strong-arm Tuesday out of some sex, he would instantly become this new person who was bashful and eager to give in to her, as if he were ashamed of what just happened. She figured a long time ago that this pathetic picture was the real Kyle Dresden; the hard one was the facade.

  Tuesday started for the door but he took her arm. “Wait a second.” She spun around and shot the lieutenant a glare that made him quickly take back his hand.

  “Tuesday, please, just hear what I got to say.”

  She stood staring at him icily with her arms folded, bag draped over her shoulder, and keys in hand.

  He was still unable to meet her eyes. “I’m not a man who’s used to saying he’s sorry, no matter how terrible a thing was I did, but it’s just that, uh . . .” Dresden looked into his hands as if he had crib notes to what he was trying to say written on his palms. “You’re the first black woman I’ve ever, uh ur . . . It’s just hard for me to control myself when I’m around you.”

  “So you basically sayin’ I’m the first black woman you’ve found pretty enough to rape! You think I’m s’posed to be flattered by that shit?”

  He looked from her Prada shoes up to her knees and couldn’t seem to go any higher than that. “I’m sorry.”

  It never ceased to amaze or infuriate Tuesday how her entire life she’d been blamed for her own sexual abuse. It began with one of her mother’s many live-in boyfriends when she started to develop at twelve. Inappropriate looks and comments escalated to fondling when they were alone. When she finally got up the nerve to tell her mother, she believed his denials over her accusations and blamed a young Tuesday for misinterpreting his fatherly affection. Then one night after her mother caught him trying to sneak into Tuesday’s bed, they both blamed it on her for enticing him with her new body. It was the beginning of a recurring theme that happened again at fourteen with her aunt’s husband, and again at fifteen with this older lesbian who had been a family friend. Each time she was to blame as if her beauty was some sort of curse. They all swore she possessed some magic ability to change them into pussy-hungry monsters and before Tuesday learned to master and profit from that power, she felt guilty and blamed herself too. Now Dresden’s lame attempt to pin his perversion on her brought up all those old memories and the anger attached to them.

  Despite his being six foot six with arms like boa constrictors, Tuesday thought Dresden looked as small and fragile as a child. She was almost certain that if she were to slap him he would curl up on the bed and cry like a bitch. She stared at him shaking her head with some odd combination of anger, pity and disgust.

  “I’m through fuckin’ with you. As of right now, me and my girls no longer work for you or with you. You can burn down my club, you can put cases on us, you can even put bullets in us, but we’re done!” These were all threats he had made against her in the past.

  She turned to walk away.

  “Tuesday, don’t be stupid. We’ve made a lot of money together.”

  She was still headed for the door.

  “I didn’t just call you here to collect. I had something else lined up. Something big!”

  “Fuck you, Dresden!” She pulled it open and was crossing the threshold.

  He called out: “I’m talking about a seven-digit lick, Tuesday! The kind that would set you up forever!”

  That made her stop. She knew he was lying, knew that he was trying to reel her back in. She knew this but still could not walk out that room. “You fulla shit!” she said, looking back at him.

  “No, I’m not,” he said, standing up. He was able to meet her eyes again and that electric blue intensity had returned to his. “Something really juicy just got dropped in my lap and we have to move on it right away. This one lick can pay you more than the last ten put together.”

  “You fulla shit!” she repeated while turning away, but still was unable to find the will to walk.

  He approached her. “I know you’re tired, Ms. Knight. You’ve been at this a long time and it’s gotten old. From dancing to tricking to robbery, you’re ready to be done with all this. The Bounce House might keep the bills paid but it’ll never get you rich, and these scores for twenty and twenty-five grand are too few and far between. I’m talking about that big payoff you’ve been waiting for since you started this shit! A million, two, maybe more!”

  His raspy voice was eerie and melodic. She hated the sound but was mesmerized by the content even though she was sure it only spoke lies. Tuesday felt like Eve when the serpent was trying to convince her to bite the apple.

  He continued toward her dangling the bait. “You could get your boyfriend a really good lawyer or maybe even do the smart thing and say fuck him! No one would blame you. Change your name and buy you a condo down in Miami. Get floor seats to all the Heat games and sit right next to the bench—close enough to smell Dwyane Wade’s sweat.”

  She turned to him. “Nobody ever told you that you s’posed to start a fairy tale with ‘once upon a time.’ Before you get to the happily ever after, gimme the name of this imaginary mark who’s gonna move me to South Beach.”

  Dresden smiled when she allowed him to push the door closed because he knew he had her.

  “Well, once upon a time, about twenty years ago, a small-time dealer that nobody ever heard of got tired of the crumbs and started murdering his way to the top of the food chain. In just five years he had the most feared name in the city without anyone really knowing who he was.”

  Tuesday’s eyes went wide and flashed bright green. Dresden’s smile grew wider when he saw the recognition in her face. “You already know who I’m talking about.”

  “Sebastian Caine!” she scoffed in disbelief. “Get the fuck outta here!”

  “Oh, so you’ve heard of him?” he asked innocently, already knowing that she had.

  “Everybody and they momma done heard of the nigga. He like a urban legend in the hood.”

  He asked, “And what would you say if I told you I could get you next to him.”

  “I’d say you was fulla shit!” she blurted without hesitation. “For twenty years niggas been throwing that name around to make it seem like they doin’ big thangs but it’s always just some frontin’ muthafuckas blowing game. A nigga might say he fuckin’ with some niggas who fuck with some niggas who fuck with Sebastian Caine. Or like this one time these guys hit The Bounce and made it rain with about sixty G’s and had the girls all gassed up sayin’ they worked for Sebastian Caine.

  “But everything you ever hear about this nigga is always third-and fourth-party shit. As much as I’ve heard his name, I’ve never seen the nigga anywhere and I never met one person who actually seen him or met him in person. Truthfully I don’t even think the nigga exists!” Tuesday shook her head. “So again, I say you fulla shit! Niggas who say they fuck with Caine is just like them hillbillies out in the boonies who swear they saw Bigfoot.”

  “Sebastian Caine is very real!” Dresden assured her. “Plus he’s back around the city and has been for a while.”

  Tuesday was unconvinced. “So you sayin’ that you done actually met somebody who’s really met or seen him?”

  He explained that he had a friend in the DEA and Tuesday knew that whenever Dresden said ‘friend’ he meant another cop who was just as crooked as him. “My friend tells me that the DEA, the FBI, and the Justice Department have been secretly working together for the past six years building an airtight indictment against one of the biggest but low-key dealers in the country. He swore to me that they have active surveillance and are very close to executing a warrant on the Invisible Man himself, one Sebastian Caine!

  “He gave me the whole run-down but, like I said, we have to move quick
. The alphabet boys are gonna be coming soon but just think of what type of score we’ll be looking at if you and the girls can get to him first.”

  There was no longer doubt in Tuesday’s eyes but some mixture of excitement and fear. “He’s here and you know where?”

  Dresden nodded with a smile that reminded Tuesday of a hungry alligator.

  Chapter Four

  Tuesday lived downtown in a twenty-two-hundred-square-foot condominium in a plush building called the Seymour. In addition to high ceilings, hardwood floors, two beds, two baths and walk-in closets, twenty-six hundred a month also got her underground parking, tight security, and access to the in-house gym/spa, swimming pool, and tennis court.

  Tuesday didn’t feel that the ten minute shower at the motel was enough to sufficiently wash the dirty cop off her so she spent another hour soaking in her Jacuzzi tub. The jets were running and the water was hot enough to scald but Tuesday sat in that bubbling caldron as content as a carrot in stew.

  While she scrubbed Dresden’s scent from her body, she couldn’t exorcise his words from her mind so easily. She spent the last fifteen minutes of her bath just soaking and thinking over his proposal while having the occasional staring match with Nicholas.

  Nicholas was an all-white long-haired Persian with eyes greener than hers. Tuesday had a suspicion that he’d been some freaky nigga in his past life because since he was a kitten he always made it his business to be present whenever she got undressed. The cat sat on the rim of the tub methodically grooming himself as if waiting for her naked body to emerge from the bath.

  “Get yo pervy ass outta here!” she said, playfully splashing him with her bathwater.

  He merely shook the excess water from his coat, gave her a bitch, please look and went back to brushing himself with his rough tongue.

  Under Nicholas’s watchful eyes she finally climbed out, dried off then wrapped herself in a terrycloth bathrobe. She padded out of the bathroom on bare feet and the cat followed closely behind.