Black Widow (20 page)

Larry “Lootchee” Fonzworth

“Make no mistake about it, I always gets
whatever
I wants.”

Chapter 25

The Man

Larry “Lootchee” Fonzworth returned from Texas approximately six months ago after an extended stay in South America. Initially, Lootchee had fled to the border against his will. He was tricked by his then girlfriend into believing that the Feds had been asking questions and were hot on his trail, leaving him no choice but to take flight. However, he later found out it was a lie. After finding out that Lootchee had been using her name to ship illegal goods through the mail, his girlfriend, Bambi, concocted the entire story about the F.B.I., stole all of the merchandise and money he had stored at her house, and went back home to Richmond, Virginia. Lootchee stayed in South America for more than three years. Sure, he could have come back to his home state of Texas sooner, but opportunity smiled upon him and Lootchee never could say no to a pretty face, and he never let a pretty face say no to him.

He made money hand over fist in South America, shipping drugs and laundering money for his associates in the States, and he found a new hustle in the jungle: the untampered, high-profit, and low-risk business of the phone cards.

But he couldn’t live off of money alone. He needed something more that the jungle couldn’t provide; there was unfinished business in the States that was keeping him awake at night. He had to teach his ex-girlfriend a lesson. He didn’t get to where he was in life by allowing anyone to steal from him and live to tell, write, or laugh about it. But in order to get away with it, he knew he had to calculate and bide his time. Lootchee always got what he wanted: money, revenge, power, respect, women. Always. And by any means necessary.

Lootchee was having breakfast with two of his bodyguards in one of his favorite diners when his cell phone rang. He had been waiting for this call since last night, so he answered quickly. “Hello.”

“I just landed,” Isis said. “Where are you?”

“Be there in fifteen minutes. I’ll meet you at baggage claim.”

“Okay. Thanks,” she said.

Exactly fifteen minutes later Lootchee called Isis back to tell her that he had been caught in traffic but he was only ten minutes away and to meet him at the departures gate instead of the baggage claim. Isis stood on the curb beside the cart with her luggage in it looking divalicious. She was wearing a velour, all-white Juicy Couture sweatsuit with white Juicy sunglasses when Lootchee pulled up in a black 1995 Impala. Two large men hopped out. One put her bags in the trunk while the other watched.

After Lootchee felt like everything was good, he got out of the car and gave Isis a hug. “Let’s bounce, Sweets,” he said. “We got a lot of things to do.”

Isis wasn’t expecting Lootchee to be traveling with two 300-pound bodyguards, which made her a little nervous. “Did you set up the meeting with a lawyer for me?” she asked. She planned to get out of dodge as soon as she got Phoebe out of jail.

Lootchee pulled out his cell phone and made a call. “What is your sister’s name?”

“Phoebe Cross. It’s spelled P-H-O-E-B-E.”

Lootchee told the person on the other end of the line Phoebe’s name and then said, “By all means, get her out of there. I want to be having dinner with her at six o’clock, so you got until five to have her out.” He hung up and then told Isis, “It’s done.”

Isis wasn’t impressed. She wasn’t going to be satisfied until her sister was standing right in front of her, free and in the flesh!

The first stop that they made was at a car wash, the kind where everything was done by hand. Every fly car in the city must have been dirty that day because it looked like a car show was in progress. There was everything from old-school pimped-out 6-4’s to fresh-off-the-showroom-floor Mercedes Benz’s. But the automobile that stood out, hands down, was a triple white Phantom. Lootchee drove the Impala to the side of the building and got out with the car still running. “Stay in the car,” he instructed her.

Isis sighed. She was starting to dislike this dude more and more, and she didn’t really like him that much in the first place. She just needed a contact in Texas. And now this fool was playing around at the car wash.

When Lootchee got out the car people crowded around him like he was a rock star. Everybody wanted to talk to him, shake his hand, or embrace him in some way. When he looked back to see if Isis was okay, she was admiring the Phantom that was parked in the corner.

Man, I could really use one of those in my life. I gotta get my hustle turned up to the tenth notch so I can make it happen,
Isis thought.

Taking a better look at what was going down—it was more than just a car convention—these brothers were straight up balling. And there were a few sisters in attendance as well, not just on groupie status, but doing the damn thang, too.

A few of the fellas made eye contact with Isis. There were plenty of Black Widow potential customers that had already given her the eye, but Isis ignored them. She didn’t want to seem disrespectful to Lootchee by acknowledging them. Regardless of how macho a man acted on the outside, Isis knew that deep down most of them were as insecure as a hooker in a room full of nuns. And right now, for her sister’s sake, she needed this man’s help.

No more than five minutes had passed, when one of the two goons that were riding with Lootchee popped the trunk and removed her bags. Lootchee walked back over to the car and opened the door to the Impala for her, held his elbow out to her and said, “Right this way, Sweets.” He then escorted her, arm in arm, to the Phantom.

“Where to, Lootchee?” the driver called out.

“The Ritz,” Isis answered for him.

“The Boat Showplace,” Lootchee corrected.

“What? Why are we going to a boat place?” Isis asked. Lootchee seemed cool and all, but she wasn’t feeling all the stops, nor did he at any time ask her what she wanted, which was to get her sister out of jail and get the fuck out of Texas.

“I got you, Sweets, but I need to go make sure everything is straight with this boat that I just bought.”

“That wasn’t the deal,” Isis reminded him. “I know I sprung everything on you last minute, and the last thing I want to do is inconvenience you, so all you have to do is drop me at my hotel and give me the name and number of the lawyer and I can take it from there.”

“Listen, Sweets, ain’t no need for all that. I got the best lawyer in the state on my payroll, and he’s in the process of taking care of the business as we speak.” Lootchee’s words poured out like syrup. “Just relax. Your sister will be out by five p.m., and afterward, I’m treating the both of you to the best damn celebration steak Texas has to offer.”

Isis had to give it to him, the man didn’t lack confidence. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything, Sweets.”

“Why do they call you Lootchee?”

“Well, the plain and simple version is,” he started, “back in the ’80’s Lootchee used to be slang for money, and that’s what I am—pure dee money. So the name stuck.”

Isis thought that they were balling at the carwash, but the Boat Showplace was off the meter.

Lootchee had bought a beautiful thirty-footer with all the amenities. The fact that he never piloted a boat before didn’t slow him down. In his eyes this was $50,000 of well-spent money. You only lived once.

Lootchee, the owner of the store, and Isis were all on their way to check out the boat when she spotted a stunning sixty-foot yacht. Isis pointed. “I hope that’s the one you bought,” she smiled. “It’s beautiful.” Isis walked around the boat, admiring it.

Rick, the owner of the store, smirked when he heard Lootchee say, “That’s why I came back today, because I wanted to see if this one had come in.” When they went aboard to take a closer look, Lootchee lagged behind with Rick and asked, “How much for this one?”

Rick smiled. “Three hundred and fifteen thousand. Your wife has wonderful taste.”

Not bothering to correct Rick’s wrong assumption that Isis was his wife, Lootchee did the math on the difference in the prices of the two boats quickly in his head. “Yes, she does. So it’s mine for another hundred and sixty-five thou’ then?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Fonzworth, but the other yacht that you purchased was custom-ordered. I can’t take it back,” Rick explained.

“There’s no such thing as a man that can’t do something, now is it?” Lootchee wasn’t really asking a question. He was making a statement.

“I’ll tell you what I
can
do,” Rick said. “If you don’t want the other one, I can buy it back from you for seventy-five thousand.”

“Man, you know I am a businessman. You gotta do better than that.”

“Well, you could leave the boat here and resell it for a ten to fifteen percent commission?” he said, not wanting to rub Lootchee the wrong way. Lord knows he wanted the sale of the boat.

Lootchee thought for a minute, looking from one boat to the next. Finally he said, “Deal.” The two men shook on it. “Sweets!” Lootchee called out to Isis. “We gotta go. I need to make a run.”

Great,
Isis thought, throwing her hands up. “Where to now?”

“I gotta go to the bank to get another cashier check for $315,000 to buy this here vessel. We in Texas for gud-dam’it—if it ain’t big, it ain’t right,” Lootchee boasted as he winked at Isis.

Isis smiled and shook her head as she made her way toward the exit of the boat. This dude really did feel as though he was a king and deserved only the best.

Lootchee was determined to impress her. The boat was just another thing, but the beauty that Isis possessed was priceless.

“Rick,” Lootchee said before the two of them exited the boat, “being you like my wife’s taste so much, you probably would like to do some business with her. Especially since she’s the reason you just got such a big sale.”

“What type of work does she do?” Rick inquired.

“She’s the best damn jewelry designer on the east coast, North and South Peninsula, and I’m sure she could make something real nice for your wife that won’t run you much more than thirty-five thou’. Your wife does like jewelry, doesn’t she? I mean, what woman doesn’t?”

Isis turned and faced the men after hearing the word jewelry.

“I was just telling Rick here that you design jewelry,” Lootchee said to Isis.

“Oh, yeah,” Isis said, “that’s what I do. Designed this one myself.” She held up her hand.

Rick couldn’t miss the rock that Isis was wearing on her ring finger even if he was blind—and he wasn’t—so he saw exactly where Lootchee was going with this. “I would be honored to purchase something for my wife,” he said.
Fair exchange ain’t no robbery,
he thought. “Do you have a business card?”

“I sure do.” Isis opened her rhinestone card case and passed him one.

“Black Widow Jewels, huh?” Rick scratched his head. “I think I might have read something about you.”

“The one and only.” She smiled.

“May I have a few of the cards? I may have a few folks I can refer to you.”

Isis obliged, handing the man a few more.

“Make sure you use them.” Lootchee pointed to the cards as they headed to the bank. As soon as they got in the car, Lootchee’s cell phone rang. “Hello,” he said, taking the call.

After Lootchee had been trying to woo Isis all afternoon, he finally made some headway when he got off the phone and said, “That was the lawyer. Your sister is out of jail.”

Isis had never been so relieved in her life. She exhaled. “Could you please take me to get her?”

“We’re on our way now.”

On the way to the jail to pick up Phoebe, Lootchee finally engaged in a conversation that didn’t involve him. “What made you decide to be a jeweler? And why did you name your company Black Widow Jewels?”

“Jewelry has always been a passion of mine,” she confided. “My mother and father always gave me a piece of jewelry for my birthday up until I was thirteen, and my mother had the most beautiful and interesting jewelry when I was young. It’s always intrigued me.”

“But why Black Widow?”

“Let’s just say I wanted to take something negative and make it positive.”

Loochee was quiet for a minute. Then he spoke. “You sound like a scorned woman.”

“Well, I have been.”

“Then we have more in common than you know,” he said.

She looked at him. “Don’t tell me you’re a scorned woman?” Isis joked.

“No, not exactly,” he said. “I had an ex-girlfriend that I loved dearly. In return for my love, she cut me pretty deeply with a knife called betrayal. So you tell me, what does that make me?”

Isis could see the anger in his eyes when he spoke of his ex-girlfriend and didn’t like what she saw. “So you going to let me make a nice medallion or something for you?” She changed the subject to lessen the tension that had filled the car.

“No, you can’t sell me a ring or something,” he said. “I want an entire set; maybe two.”

“Well, tell me what you want and what your budget is and I’ll get it done.”

“It ain’t no budget, Sweets. Knock yourself out. The Lootchee is endless.”

I opened the door wide open for that one
, she thought.

“That’s what I’m talking about, playa playa! Do the damn thing!” She stroked his ego even more. And Lootchee liked how it felt.