A Hood Legend (11 page)

“You mean the case on the Mayor's son . . . was that you who tipped them off?”

“Yes, sir. And I will need more men to take our Mr. Machetti down.”

“No problem. I'll take it to the big wigs first thing in the morning, but consider it done. I'm thinking a small military operations unit or something,” the official from D.C. said.

“Thank you, sir.”

They ended their call. The man in the hotel room stood in the darkness and then walked to the window. Looking through the torn blinds and rusty bars, he adjusted his holster, which held a black Beretta. He worked to get this mission and he knew he would see it to the end with Felix Marchetti dead. He focused on a street lamp with a busted light and watched a bum stagger into a nearby phone booth. He answered his cell phone on the first ring. The bum spoke French in a clear and sober voice.

“Once the job is done, four million will be placed in two Swiss accounts—two million in each, and we must have undeniable proof.” The man in the hotel said nothing. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a hi-tech penlight. He pointed it at the bum and flashed it twice. He then looked for the silent code. The bum hung up and went back into his flawless act, staggering along the sidewalk. He bumped into a black couple and asked for some change but was only pushed to the side. By that time, the man in the hotel had disappeared into the night, letting the darkness hide his face and movements.

* * *

Dwight dropped Kevin off at his apartment in Northern Miami. Kevin was only nineteen and he had worked with Menage off and on as the middleman, bringing in cars when he ran across kids in the hood that wanted to sell a hot ride. Dwight smiled as he headed back home, thinking of what Kevin had told him about the interrogation.

“Yo, check it, D,” Kevin had said sitting next to Dwight as they sped down I-95 North in his BMW. “These dumb-ass DTs come with that lame, old-ass game talkin' 'bout, ‘Hey, son, you facing ten to twenty years and we got some of your friends who will turn on you' and all that bullshit, right? And they wanna know where I'm taking the car, so I like lower my head, right, and I make him think I'm about ta cop out and shit. They say, ‘Okay, so you wanna tell us and help yourself out?' I say yeah, real sad and shit, right? And they say, ‘Where . . . 'and I look up and say . . . ‘your Momma!' They both cracked up during the entire ride to Kevin's apartment. Dwight gave him twenty-two hundred just on GP because he knew Kevin had two mouths to feed.

Dwight's mind drifted back to Tina and then Menage. It was a quarter to midnight when he pulled into his garage. If his best friend wasn't up in the hospital, he knew that nine times out of ten they'd be at some club or party. Tonight he was going to relax and spend time with his woman.

* * *

Kevin was about to go upstairs to his apartment when a white male dressed in an all black jumpsuit stepped in front of him and flashed a badge. Since it was dark, he couldn't tell what kind of badge it was. Kevin guessed he was there to ask him about the stolen car or some other bullshit. He didn't see a gun and thought that maybe the man was a narc or something.

“Yo, man, what the fuck you want?” Kevin said with his long arms spread, looking down at the shorter man. The man didn't move.

“Do you work for Felix Marchetti?” the man said with no emotion, looking Kevin square in the eye.

Kevin responded quickly. “Look, yo, if you ain't got no warrant, you need to get the fuck up outta here.” Kevin knew not to make a physical approach, and he stood his ground.

The man spoke again slowly. “Do . . . you . . . work . . . for Felix Marchetti?” Kevin didn't feel like playing his game. He also sensed that something was wrong with this guy.

“Man, fuck you. Ain't got time to be playin' games, yo. Go get a warrant if you wanna ask some questions.” He stepped past him to go upstairs. Kevin took just two steps when suddenly the man reached up and grabbed him. In less than a few seconds, Kevin had a gun pressed firmly against his temple.

“On your damn knees,” the man hissed. Kevin knelt slowly to his knees. He was scared; police didn't use silencers. He had to keep this man from going upstairs to his family, but he had no gun. He knew he was in a tough spot. “Now let's try this again. Do you work for Felix Marchetti?” Kevin was still on his knees with the gun to his head. His heart was beating in overdrive. He knew of Mr. Marchetti, but he didn't know him personally. He never actually even saw the man. But worst of all, he didn't know how to answer the question and he became nervous when the man repeated himself.

“N-no . . . I don't even know him . . . I mean not personally. I swear, man . . . do it look like I work for him? Come on, please.” He opened his eyes when he felt the gun removed from his head. Kevin quickly jumped to his feet and rushed toward the stairs. From about twenty feet away, the man spun around and aimed the Beretta at Kevin's head. He pulled the trigger. The gun coughed. The slug was a black talon shell, made to go through the flesh and expand on impact. Kevin's head exploded like an eggshell as the slug hit his skull. He lay face down, halfway up the steps as blood flowed down the iron stairwell.

The man reached into his pocket and tossed out a few grams of rock cocaine in plastic bags a few inches from Kevin's body. Now it would look like a drug deal gone bad. He then fired two shots through an apartment window, then turned and ran to his SUV. He smiled, knowing that he didn't have to kill the kid, but he didn't have a reason to let him live either. He tossed the Beretta out the window as he crossed a bridge. He decided to relieve some stress before taking a rest. He drove to Overtown and picked up a petite brunette after handing her a twenty-dollar bill. He sat on a hotel couch shortly afterward as the girl gave him a hand job in the darkness. Little did she know that this would be her last trick.

* * *

Federal agent Lydia Nansteel arrived in Miami quicker than she had planned. She was fully briefed on Menage's shooting and was trying to get answers. The case had her full attention and she was sent to work on it even though he was still in a coma. She sat in the government Lear jet going over the file and her contacts in Miami. Her new name would be Latosha Mandrick. If anyone did a background check, the record would say she was a saleswoman for Luster Hair Care and a single female graduate of North Carolina Central University with a degree in Sales and Marketing.

She was thinking of ways to get a lead on the DB-7 with Menage in a coma. No one knew the caller who gave the tip. At least that's what Myers had told her. If she could find that person it would make things a lot simpler. The FBI had given her a two bedroom apartment near the University of Miami and the car of her choice. She picked a blue Lexus RX330, an SUV taken from an imprisoned drug dealer. She looked at the picture of Menage that was in her file. It showed him stepping out of a yellow Escalade ESV. He wasn't wearing a shirt.
Attractive
, she thought.

Nansteel was tired, but she made it from the airport in the RX330, which was parked where Myers said it would be. Now known as Latosha Mandrick, she opened the door to her assigned apartment. Turning on the lights, she glanced at the black and white flower print furniture she picked out and let out a sigh. “Perfect,” she said. Her temporary dwelling was cozy and spacious.

In the corner sat a large TV and DVD system. She walked into the master bedroom and looked at the queen-sized bed with a mirrored headboard. “Someone trying to be funny,” she thought. She put her briefcase on the bed and placed her cell phone on the dresser. As she unpacked, she pulled out her black government-issued. 45. She placed it on the bed and began to undress. She removed her blouse, revealing her perky breasts. She looked at herself in the mirror, thinking that she could still be a Jet Beauty.
Maybe I should have stuck with it,
she thought.

After taking a shower, she put on a halter-top and boxers and went to bed. Saturday would be a busy day. The first stop would be the hospital and then . . . she didn't even know. It would be all work as usual. She had no problem sleeping solo; after her divorce from Paul she often went to bed alone. She briefly thought about him. She didn't think she'd ever be able to forgive him, but she manged to move on, like any other strong black woman would, pouring all of her time into her job. Love was something she hated.

 

Felix Marchetti stood on his balcony with two of his bodyguards. His private island was four miles long and one mile wide with a small airstrip. His mansion was worth twenty-five million. It had twenty rooms, an indoor, heated Olympic size pool, tennis courts, and a horse stable that kept his eight prized Arabian horses. He looked at the full moon as it cast its glow on the ocean.

“They're coming now, sir,” his guard said.

“Hit the lights in the landing area and wait till he gets out. Then wait for my signal,” Felix instructed. The helicopter came into view, slowly moving sideways toward the landing pad.

From inside the helicopter, Menage could see the island come into view. As always, it was breathtaking. Chandra sat next to him, still holding his hand ever since they made their secret getaway from the hospital. The landing was smooth and the pilot waited for the rotors to stop before he opened the door.

“I'ma try to walk,” Menage said as the doors slid open slowly.

“Are you sure?” Chandra said as she rubbed his cheek. With the door now fully open, the smell of fuel and the sea blew into the passenger's compartment. Menage took the first step and almost fell. Chandra was there to catch him. With her support, he slowly moved toward the mansion. They could both see Felix in the distance. “Dark out here, ain't it?” Chandra said softly.

“Uh-huh . . . maybe I need to go work out in the gym or something.”

“Yeah, right. Your butt need to be in that wheelchair and your mama told me to make sure you get your rest. As soon as we get inside you're going to bed!”

“Yeah,” he said squeezing her butt.

“Boy, please!” she said as they slowly walked up the long path leading to Felix's home.

“Now!” Felix said. The guard to his left gave a quick order into his walkie-talkie. Suddenly Menage grabbed his chest and stumbled from Chandra's grasp.

“Menage, what's wrong!” Chandra cried gripping his arm holding him steady.

“I'm okay, just a chest pain. Help me up, baby.” A cage swung open nearby. Vapor let out a low growl and poked his head out of the cage. He tilted his head and sniffed the air. He barked then took off running.

“Baby, look,” Chandra said as she stopped and pointed down the beach. Menage followed her gaze.

“Vapor,” he said softly. He was filled with joy and pain at the same time. He was happy to see Vapor, but he knew he was lonely without Vigor. Vapor was running down the beach at full speed, kicking up sand, his ears flapping in the wind. He knew Vapor wouldn't jump on him. With Chandra's help, he got down on his knees as Vapor ran up to him whining and licking his face. Menage hugged his beloved pet, unable to stop the tears that rolled down his face. Vapor's stump of a tail twitched back and forth as Menage held him tighlty.

“He hasn't eaten much since he's been here,” said Felix walking up on them. “He almost took off one of my guard's hands when they tried to feed him, but I'm sure you can take care of him now. I'm sorry about Vigor. Chandra, Rosita is here also.” She was Felix's trusted woman of five years.

As soon as Chandra started to lightly snore, Menage snuck out of the room with Vapor. After feeding him, they sat on the third floor balcony and watched Felix's helicopter take off into the night. He looked toward the Miami skyline and thought about everything that was going on.

Felix wanted him to stay on the island, but it was killing him—well, maybe killing him wasn't the right thought—but he already missed being in the limelight—but why? Vapor stood up, stretched his front legs and shook his head from side to side. As he was about to sit back down, he slowly turned around and started to growl. “Easy, boy,” Menage said rubbing Vapor's tense shoulder. Seconds later Rosita walked onto the balcony.

“May I join the two of you or is this a private party?” she asked softly. Rosita had large, full breasts and a long, slender body. Her long brunette hair was soft as silk and it stopped at her mid-back. She was simply breathtaking. Menage could only nod his head in her presence. “I see you can't sleep either. I often come out here myself just to look at the stars. So how is Chandra?” she asked sitting down in a lounge chair across from him.

“In bed knocked out—same as Felix.” The slip she wore was nearly see-through and it did nothing to cover her breasts. Menage swore she was naked underneath the slip.

“Menage, I need to tell you something. Felix really cares about you.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said taking his eyes off of her. She smiled. “He said you always keep him laughing with your smart mouth. He really wants the best for you and I often hear him speak on wishing you would get out of the game.”

He looked into her eyes. Could Felix really want that for him? Why? “Rosita, I don't even know what's the best for me.”

“Life is a chance, and you have to choose between two things.”

“And what are those two things?”

“Heaven or hell. Look, I know I'm young, but I know a lot of things, Menage.”

He sat back and closed his eyes. He didn't feel like speaking on religion at first but he changed his mind. “I sin every day and I have evil thoughts all the time, so how can I think about God . . . or whatever?” He opened his eyes and Rosita walked over and knelt down in front of him. He couldn't help but to look between her legs. She wore a pair of black panties.

She held his hand and spoke.“For all have sinned and come short of the Glory of God: Romans chapter three, verse twenty-three.”

Menage knew right from wrong and didn't wish to argue with her, and he could sense that she knew what she was talking about.

“You can't keep playing the field, Menage.”

“I—”

“Shhh . . . I can see it in your eyes. Don't try to sneak off the Island. Chandra needs you more than ever and you know I'm right,” she said before kissing his cheek. “Don't stay up too long,” she said before standing up and tracing his chin with her finger.

After Rosita left, Menage walked back to his room with Vapor on his heels. Chandra was sound asleep on her stomach. Vapor yawned, walked around in a circle twice and curled up on the floor. Menage took off his clothes and got into bed. Still half asleep, Chandra kissed him, rolled on her back and allowed him to snuggle up close to her breasts. He closed his eyes. So much had changed and he knew it was the start of the ending. Chandra's steady heartbeat quickly sent him to dreamland.

* * *

The night had come to an end and DJ wound up at a sorority house in Coral Gables. He forgot all about Lisa and Tina, which was a surprise. As for Dwight and Tina, she talked him into making a sex tape. Dwight was more than willing to do it, and he never once stopped to think of Tina's increased sex drive.

 

 

Saturday Morning

 

 

Menage walked into the huge dining room with Vapor by his side. He was feeling much better after getting some much needed rest. Now he was about to eat his first real meal since coming out of the coma. He wore a pair Gucci, print slacks and matching silk pullover shirt. Chandra joined him in the dining room just seconds later. She looked beautiful in a chocolate brown sheer top with a matching sleeveless cardigan by Prada and a pair of diamond earrings. She also wore a pair of lizard sling backs by Ernesto Esposito. The entire outfit cost over five thousand dollars. She filled out the tan skirt she wore with her full hips, her smooth hairless legs covered in a pair of light brown stockings. She walked over to Menage and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

“Mmm . . . you look good enough to eat,” he said licking her ear. “Maybe later, mister, if you're up to it,” she giggled.

“Yeah, right,” he said pulling out a chair for her. “Why you dressed up like that? All we havin' is breakfast—like it's the BET awards or somethin'!”

“It was all Rosita's idea. If it was up to me, I'd be in jeans and T-shirt . . . but I do like the earrings though,” she said lightly plucking them with her index fingers.

“I bet you do,” Menage said. He sat down and wondered why she hadn't told him about the baby yet. He had heard every word she said when she thought he was still in a coma. Maybe she had her reasons. He wanted to call Dwight last night, but Felix was against it, and he knew about the phone system so Chandra's cell phone was useless. He looked at Chandra. He'd been a fool taking her love for granted and he made up his mind last night as they lay in bed that he was going to change and be faithful to her.

Vapor lifted up his head and whined as Felix and Rosita appeared. Rosita wore a lightweight leather jacket that was unzipped, showing her ample cleavage through a silk chiffon blouse, and her skirt matched the waist-cut jacket. She wore a pair of Manolo Blahnik pumps. Felix stood with his chest out in a Giorgio Armani two-piece suit.

“Why everybody dressed like this? This the BET awards or somethin'?” Menage asked looking around the table.

“Boy, be quiet!” Chandra said pinching his leg underneath the table as they began their breakfast. They both had a plate of grits, eggs, bacon, and pancakes. Felix and Rosita ate something they couldn't even pronounce.

“Hey, Felix,” Menage said as he slipped Vapor a piece of bacon. “Who's the painting on the wall by?”

Felix wiped his mouth. “Julian Schnabel. I got it for one point five mil at an auction in Italy.”

“What! One point five mil for one picture! Man, shit!” Felix smiled and pointed at Menage's platinum Rolex. “That's different,” Menage said wishing he had worn the Bulova instead. The group laughed and joked, filling the dining room with cheer. Menage was soon eager to go back upstairs to be alone with Chandra.

“Baby, do you know how much that outfit cost I had on at breakfast?” Chandra said as she rubbed some medicated cream on Menage's chest. He was still waiting for her to break the news about the baby. He also thought of Felix's so-called plan, which Felix said he would fill him in on some time during the afternoon. He closed his eyes as her soft touch relaxed him. She now wore a Baby Phat halter-top with a matching tennis skirt and a pair of Nikes.

Menage had a child on the way and he had no clue on who tried to kill him—not once, but twice. And the possibility of Chandra being harmed was something he didn't want to think about . . . it was already enough that they killed Vigor. He couldn't imagine his life without Chandra—not in this lifetime. He recalled what Dwight had told him about being true to her. Maybe he was right.

“Finished,” Chandra said. “My big baby, Menage . . .”

“Talk to me,” he said with his head resting on her lap.

“I love you so much and I thought I was going to lose you,” she said looking into his eyes. “You love me?” she said playing with his ear. “Don't play me, Menage.”

“How much you love me?”

“More than you may ever know,” she said caressing the side of his face now. “And you know I don't want you for your money or all the material things that you claim life is all about. You think you're invincible when it comes to pain and love . . . and loving me. Baby, I know you're intelligent and it's obvious you have good taste,” she said pointing to herself. “But I thought I lost you and I was really scared. Now that you're with me,” she said leaning forward to kiss him, “I don't plan on letting you go.” Placing her hand on his firm, flat stomach, she began to move her smooth palm around in a slow circle. He took a deep breath and looked into her eyes. She knew the vulnerable areas of his body as well as every scar, old and new. And each time Menage was with her, it felt like their first time. But why did he still sleep with other women? It wasn't as if he didn't care if he hurt her.

“Baby . . . I know you're carrying my seed,” he said. Her hand became stiff.

“H-how? I mean, who told you?”

“I was conscious when you said it at the hospital. I was just too weak to respond. I know I'm not perfect,” he said reaching for her hand, “but I'll do my best to be a father to our child and more important, Chandra . . . a husband to you.” She gasped as he continued. “I'm not good at this, but I just want you to know that I'm sick of running from you and . . .” He took a deep breath.

“Baby . . . what are you trying to say?”

“I wish it wasn't like this, but I feel the time is right, so . . .” He rolled off the bed and got on one knee. “Move, boy,” he said pushing Vapor out of his face. He took both her small, soft hands in his and watched the tears flow down her face. “Chandra, will you marry me?” he asked meaning every single word. She tucked in her bottom lip and muttered something he couldn't comprehend.

“Y-yes, yes, I'll marry you,” she managed to say this time. Her smile was brighter than platinum. He felt as if all the pressure in the world was lifted from him and he felt something he never thought he could feel again—love. He raised himself up and sat beside Chandra. He hugged her, rocking back and forth as she cried. Vapor whined and crawled on his stomach and when he was close enough, he put his head on Chandra's lap.

“Shhh. No more tears, baby.” Menage gently pulled Chandra's hands away from her tear-stained face and kissed her.

“I . . . I'm sorry,” she said.

“Sorry for what?” He raised her chin with his finger.

“Baby, just make love to me . . . now!” After putting Vapor in the next room, Menage looked at Chandra as she lay on her back rubbing her tear-filled eyes with the palms of her hands. He stood at the edge of the bed and motioned for her to lift up her feet so he could take off her shoes. He rubbed the bottom of her bare feet as she watched his every move. He could see the hairy print between her legs through her yellow thong. Removing her feet from his grasp, she scooted up on the bed, still on her back. He licked his dry lips as she lifted up her hips and tugged down the tennis skirt. Then she sat up, pulled off her top and tossed it in the corner. She got up on her knees and slowly reached behind her back to unsnap her bra. It, too, got tossed into the corner. She reached out for Menage, pulled him down onto the bed and laid him on his back. His boxers came off with ease. She kissed him deeply as she ran her hand down his stomach and then grasped his hard penis. He began to moan as she slid a nipple into his mouth. She stroked his penis while he softly bit her nipple and played with her other breast. Menage sent volts of pleasure through Chandra's body with his tongue. He hadn't noticed, but she had come out of her thong by pulling the Velcro strap on the thin waistband. He stopped her from jacking him off and rolled her onto her back. Now he was on his knees on top of her. There was a look of lust in her eyes. He quickly glanced between her parted legs and fought the will to plow into her softness. Kissing her stomach, he slowly touched the lips between her thighs, hidden under neatly trimmed, V-shaped pubic hair.