Relapse: A Novel (2 page)

He peeped over the top of his glasses at the young girl sitting on the soiled sofa.

Watching him, Paris felt a sickening ache deep down in the pit of her stomach. The feeling was partly out of disgust for his perversions, but also because of her shame for what she knew she was about to do.

Torn between her love for the coke and her love for her sister, all sorts of questions filled Paris’s brain.
What kind of big sister would do a thing like this to her little sister?
she wondered. What kind of person would do this to another person period? But especially to her own flesh and blood?

Before Paris could answer the silent questions in her mind, the feeling in her stomach was quickly replaced by the euphoria of being that close to having fourteen grams of crack in her possession. She pushed any noble thoughts she may have had away. Now it was time to step up her game and close the deal.

“Look, she’s a ten-year-young virgin and I’m giving you the pleasure of busting her little ripe cherry.” Paris moved in closer. “I ought to be charging you the whole zone for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You know that don’t you?”

Chimp bit down on his bottom lip so hard that he broke the skin, coating his mouth with the bitter flavor of his own blood. “Okay, aight, we got a deal. One hour with little Miss Marker for the half. Deal?”

Paris looked at her little sister, who was none the wiser about what was about to happen to her. No one else had to know.

But someone else did know. Mike had been in the bathroom, sitting on the throne, taking a dump, counting the money he had just collected from Chimp earlier. At seventeen years of age, Mike was a lot more advanced than most kids his age. With the help of his older cousin, Qwon, from Queens, New York, Mike had put a decent portion of Durham, Greensboro, and Raleigh in a choke-hold from the time he was fifteen. After exiting the bathroom, he managed to hear the end of Paris and Chimp’s conversation. He heard enough to know what was about to go down. Mike had heard the rumors of some of Chimp’s sordid affairs in the street, but had never really put much stock into them until now.

“Paris, I’m hungry. Can we leave now? Stop at McDonald’s or something?” Beijing called out from the living room. Looking from the kitchen, all anyone could see was her big doe eyes peering over the back of the couch. Innocent eyes. If Paris and Chimp had their way, those eyes wouldn’t be so innocent for long. Staring into the eyes of the soon-to-be victim, Mike couldn’t walk away.

“Oh yeah, Lil Mama, you gon get a Happy Meal all right.”
Chimp rubbed his manhood and licked his chapped lips. “And I’m going to see to it myself, you pretty little thing you.”

Repulsed by the comment, Mike’s stomach turned, and he walked up to Paris and spoke in a low and deliberate tone. “Take your sister and get the fuck out of this house before I break your fucking neck.”

Beijing appeared to be oblivious to what was taking place. “Take this and go buy your sister something to eat.” He pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and handed it to Paris. Then he grabbed her by the arm, and he said, “And that’s for the kid, not for yo’ fucking habit, and I mean that shit.”

Fear settled in Paris’s eyes as she slowly took the money and Mike released her arm.

“Hold on, Mike,” Chimp blurted out. “I respect you and all, but you need to tend to your own bizness and leave mine alone, lil bro. I can fuck who I want, when I want, how I want, and I’m fittin’ to do something real good and nasty to that young tenderoni there. I’m about to make it official.”

No one noticed that Beijing was suddenly all ears as to what was going down in the kitchen. They were all consumed in their own role in the vile scene that was taking shape.

The intense scowl etched into Mike’s normally handsome face should have been enough to let Paris know that he wasn’t bullshitting, but her craving for the drug overrode her common sense. Mike’s twenty-dollar bill for a damn Happy Meal didn’t stand a chance against what Chimp was offering. Chimp was old-school and had a reputation in the game, and at the end of the day, if Mike wanted to keep his pockets lined, he needed Chimp. Feeling the odds were in her favor, Paris stayed put.

“Chimp is right, Mike,” Paris said. “Maybe you should just stay out of this.”

“Yeah, you’ve handled your bizness up in this joint, lil bro,” Chimp added. “Now let me handle mine;
my
bizness, not yours.”

“Too late, maggot, I’m making it my business, and don’t ever call me lil bro again. It’s disrespectful to both me and my mother.”

“Whatever, man.” Chimp waved his hands at Mike. “I’m going to fuck that sweet lil thing and you can put up three grams to watch if you want to. Fuck what ya talking ’bout, sheeid—”

Not Beijing, not Paris, and even more so, not Chimp, ever saw where the seven and a half inches of finely sharpened steel had come from before it plunged into Chimp’s stomach. Chimp went from arrogance to agony in record-breaking time, and before he could react, Mike jerked the blade upward with a force so brutal that it ripped cleanly through Chimp’s skin. He gave the knife a twist for good measure. Blood flew from Chimp’s body, splattering all over the refrigerator, the stove, and the cabinets of the small kitchen before Chimp collapsed to the floor.

When Mike turned his eyes to Paris, she stood with a blank expression on her face. Then the lights seemed to switch back on in her eyes, and she grabbed the crack cocaine off the counter and galloped past Mike out the back door, leaving her little sister in an apartment with the body of a man who had just been murdered and his executioner.

Mike and the ten-year-old girl stared at each other for what felt like forever. Finally, Mike walked over to her and asked calmly, as if he wasn’t covered head-to-toe in blood, “What’s your name?”

She stammered, “B-B-B-Beijing.”

“That’s a pretty name.” He remained cool. “Are you okay, Beijing?”

“Y-yes.” She nodded her head.

“That’s good.” Then he asked, “Do you know what happened here?”

“Uh-huh,” she spoke timidly. “You kilt the man in the kitchen with your knife.”

“Do you know why I did that?”

Beijing paused and thought for a moment before speaking. “My sister was going to let him do something really bad to me?” she said, gazing into his eyes.

“That’s right,” Mike said. “He was a bad person and was going to hurt you.”

“Are you going to get in trouble for what you did to him?”

The irony didn’t go unnoticed. He had probably saved this young girl’s life. Now if she described Mike to the police she could end his.

The scowl was long gone from Mike’s face and was replaced by his boyish smile. “Not if you don’t tell anyone.”

Again Beijing paused and thought for a moment before speaking. “Then I won’t tell anyone. Ever. I promise. I won’t. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Beijing surveyed the lobby of the Tabby Hotel, making sure that all her guests were comfortable.

The toilet paper heiress was sitting in a comfy maroon chair with her prized teacup Yorkie cradled in her arms. The well-groomed, silky-furred dog was licking the salt off his owner’s margarita glass. An older couple, who looked like ordinary travelers but were really dripping rich with old soft-drink money, played a game of backgammon at a mahogany game table in the corner by the bay window.

Then there was one of her favorite clients, Natalia, who had been living in one of the Tabby’s penthouse suites for six months paid for by her boyfriend, business tycoon Seth Soberman. The Russian beauty was drop-dead gorgeous, with flowing blond hair, although she had quite the wig collection as well. Her beautiful green eyes were framed by lashes that seemed as long as her slender legs. She had no career, and wasn’t exactly certain about what
she aspired to do with her life, but the one thing she was sure of was her love for Seth.

Beijing had just finished seeing to it that all the stores Natalia wanted to shop at today knew she was on the way when Beijing’s eyes roved across the marble floor, through the custom-made bar, past the bellman’s stand, beyond the giant fish tank to land on a man in khaki pants that were too short, a white polo shirt, and deck shoes. He tried to come off as nonchalant but instead stuck out like a rock in a glass of water.

Beijing strolled over to further inspect the man. “Hello, sir. Is there something that I can help you with?” she asked politely while checking him out.

“No, just waiting for a friend,” he said, shifting his leg in front of the black bag by his feet.

“Would you like for me to give your friend a buzz for you to let them know you are waiting?” she offered.

“No need. I don’t mind waiting. I’m a patient kind of guy,” he said with a dry smile.

Beijing paused briefly, and then said, “Okay, no problem.” She sensed that he was up to no good. “Well, if you need anything, come and see me,” she added.

As she walked away, she heard his cell phone buzz. She lingered over a plant pretending to check to see whether it needed to be watered while she listened to the one-sided conversation.

“Yeah, he’s here. He’s definitely here. I heard the limo driver outside bragging that he picked him up from the airport. Yeah, the ‘friend’ is here, too. Ole Johnny boy is as good as busted.”

Beijing made a mental note to herself to scold the limo driver but smiled at the tip she’d just gotten from her ear-hustling. She was now certain that the guy in the lobby was one of the paparazzi with big plans for her famous guest, Johnny Wiz, to be his next meal ticket.

It’s not going down today. Not today, not on my watch
, Beijing
thought as she punched in her security code to open her office door.

Beijing was a jack-of-all-trades who more than lived up to her title of concierge-at-large for the Tabby chain of hotels. She went to extreme measures sometimes to satisfy the extraordinary requests of her high-powered clients, ballers, and anyone else rich or famous who strolled through the door of the Tabby Hotel. She went to great lengths to make sure her clients’ stay was as comfortable and as enjoyable as possible. Between her thousands of contacts and vast resources, she could get anything accomplished.

Johnny Wiz was a music industry mogul. The man, in some way or another, touched over 50 percent of everything that got played on the radio, and this week he happened to be her client.

She picked up her office phone and called Johnny’s room.

“Hi, Johnny. It’s Beijing. I wanted to warn you there’s a guy down in the lobby with a camera bag and he’s definitely not taking pictures of the beautiful skyline,” she said.

“Shit,” Johnny exclaimed. “The piranhas will never give me any peace.”

Beijing heard an exaggerated feminine voice in the background ask, “What’s wrong, honey?”

“Damn paparazzi are downstairs wanting to steal a picture of me with you,” he told his friend, and then he asked Beijing, “Any suggestions on what to do?”

“Don’t you worry about a thing. I’m on top of it as we speak. Just don’t open the door for anyone until you look through the peephole and see that it’s me,” she warned.

Beijing knew that the feminine voice in the background didn’t belong to a woman. Johnny Wiz’s secret rendezvous was with a flamboyant two-snaps-and-a-shake male companion, and they
had been spending a discreet, quiet, cozy few days together. However, the paparazzi had plans to share their lurid affair with the world. Rumors about Johnny’s sexuality had been floating around the industry for years, and a photo of him with his secret lover would command big bucks from the tabloids.

After Beijing hung up with Johnny, she called her partner in crime.

Seville was Beijing’s first cousin, and the closest thing to a real sister that she would ever have. Their fathers were brothers. When they were young, they saw each other for two weeks every single summer and every Thanksgiving when Beijing and her father would visit his brother, Jimmy, in Charleston, South Carolina.

The two girls had always been as thick as thieves when they were young and had gotten even tighter as they got older. Seville’s boyfriend and the love of her life had recently been transferred to a plant in Germany, and as fate would have it, Seville got a job there, too. Her boyfriend’s contract had a little over a year and a half left, and Seville had agreed to be there with him for the long haul.

Seville was due to leave for the big trip in a few more days and had been packed and ready to go for over a week now. Beijing couldn’t get time off work, so the cousins had agreed that Seville would hang out today at the Tabby with Beijing. While Beijing put in her hours at the hotel, Seville chilled in her cousin’s luxurious suite and enjoyed all the amenities of the five-star hotel. After Beijing got off work that day they would spend time together.

Beijing let her fingers do the walking and her mouth do the talking when she called upstairs to her suite. “Seville, I need you to come down to my office. Time for you to work off all that luxuriating you’ve been doing.” She added, “Oh, and wear something sexy and chic.”

Ten minutes later, Seville slipped into Beijing’s office through
the back hallway looking stunning in a shoulder-baring top, sandals, and skintight jeans.