Smoke and Mirrors (47 page)

“Is someone else in here?” he asked in a quiet whisper.

She slowly shook her head and simply stood there, looking dejected and rejected, as if she’d completely given up on life.

“I’m going to ask you only one damn time, Pussycat,” he said, suddenly angry for the worry she put him through. It wasn’t fair, not when he had no clue what happened, but his emotions were a fucking mess. “What the hell is going on?! Where have you been, and why have you been avoiding me and work?”

She looked into his eyes, a sad smile on her face. “By telling you this, I’m killing you… So funny, I uh…” She ran her bare foot along the edge of a rug, bunching it up just so. “I was going to drive over to your house today and tell you in person. I was just stalling I guess.”

“Tell me what?”

Is she breaking up with me?!

The thought hit him like a lightning bolt, and he knew he’d lose his damn mind if she wasn’t in his life, residing in his heart.

Pussycat, no…

She clammed up, and he simply couldn’t stand the silence. He grabbed her arms and shook her, unable to control himself.

“Killing me? Telling me to my face?! What the fuck are you talking about, Paris?”

Suddenly, everything he felt for her, done for her and said to her regarding his feelings, the secrets he’d revealed, replayed in his mind. He’d hunt her down, chase her to the ends of the Earth if she tried to turn her back on him. He couldn’t stomach the damn thought. Now that he’d experienced a love like this, told her things no one on the entire damn planet knew, opened up to her, made love to her, let her inside…there was no way he could let it go.

“Smoke, we’ve got a problem.” A slow tear trekked down from her right eye as she looked up at him, her eyes full of pain and regret. “A big, nasty,
royal
pain in the ass, and this dilemma isn’t going away anytime soon!”

*

Felicia sat in
her apartment, turning the stiff textbook pages and peering at her computer. These online courses were a nightmare. She was determined to get her GED though, and after that, completely square up. Much to her damn surprise, she got a check in the mail soon after she’d packed her damn bags and left Smoke. A handwritten note accompanied it—

Felicia,

In this life, we all have to do what we have to do. I made my choice, and you made yours. You have my respect and I will always see you as a friend. You held me down better than anyone else, and for that, I will always be grateful. Here is a little money—you earned it—to assist you on your way into your new life. I hope wherever that path takes you, it betters you as a person so you can get all that you deserve and then some. I will always care about you, and though I hurt you, it wasn’t my intention. Something happened that I didn’t expect or even think I wanted. But it’s done now, and I’m a better man for it. I’m in love and you probably knew it before I even did. Anyway, hope this helps.

Take care,

Smoke

And it helped all right, and not a minute too soon. She made plans, big plans, realizing there was more to life than being out on the street. But, it was so damn hard. She’d been tricking since the age of seventeen, had succumbed to several drug habits along the way before she’d gotten with Smoke, but she made it through. Smoke helped her in ways he could never understand. He’d rescued her and took a chance on her, one he wasn’t known to do. He’d seen something in her that others dismissed, made her feel…important. And though she hated herself a little for still being in love with him, a part of her was just happy he finally seemed content. The man looked different after he’d fallen in love with Paris. Something about him
changed
. The iciness melted the hell away. He presented himself as more open, honest, and smiled a lot more, too. The woman brought something out of him that
she
couldn’t, and after some time and reflection, she realized she couldn’t hate Paris for that. It was what it was.

You could never know the man and not love him. That proved virtually impossible for her, and with his new glow, he became all the more irresistible. That must have been the final straw—seeing him so happy because of another woman was quickly killing her.

Felicia looked back down at her textbook and turned the page, but she could barely concentrate. Smoke stayed on her mind, and not simply out of the blue. Something had been nagging at her all morning, tearing her up. She had too many friends still in the life, and honestly, she was still one foot in it her damn self, but rumors were making the rounds. Whether true or otherwise, she’d heard some shit that disturbed her so badly, it crawling under her skin like a poisonous spider. On one hand, maybe Smoke was getting what he had coming. Word on the street was, he’d grown big and rich, like a megamall. It seemed he got greedy and combined two giants to make an even larger one, and the big ass beast was eating up half of L.A. On the other hand, he’d been fair to her more times than not, so where was her loyalty?

“Goddamn it!” Slamming her book shut, she rubbed her face and stared at her cellphone for a good, long while. Then, finally, she picked it up and began to dial…

*

S
moke sat there
with his eyes closed and leg propped on the coffee table, feeling her eyes on him the whole time. Running a palm over his lips, he got to thinking, deliberating. Paris had related the entire sordid, fucked up story, down to every disgusting detail. How ironic that the motherfucker had waited until he was out of town to make his move. That couldn’t have been a coincidence. Paris let him know who and what this bastard was about. Royal was a lanky, lizard-faced, greedy coward, insane in the membrane with a reputation for being trigger-happy. No wonder Paris was scared out of her mind. The fucker definitely planned his attack with precision.

“Okay, I know this is the last thing you want to hear,” he began to speak, watching his tone, so as not to upset his baby any further. “But this is why you don’t tell your whores about these sorts of business matters, Paris. I know you wanted to be open and give full disclosure, but now one or more of them is talking, bragging, and someone wants
in
. We have no proof, but that’s the only way he would’ve thought to come here, Paris. If we give in to him, which I’m not even considering, more of these fuckers will come, like fucking rats around a sewer drain. You did the right thing by telling me.”

“Did I?” He didn’t miss her angry tone. The woman was worried as hell about her girls. He slowly opened his eyes.

“Yes, you did. Not a damn thing is going to happen to those women, okay?” He looked at her grimly. “I’m going to beef up security and call them to let them know no new johns will be accepted until we get this sorted out.
No one
is to leave that damn apartment unescorted. Now, you deposited the rest of the money, correct?”

“Yes, I took care of it this morning.”

“From now on, future monies can’t stay here, you understand?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I will handle Royal, don’t you worry about that. All I want you to concentrate on is yourself.”

“I can’t trust my girls… I can’t trust anyone.” She hung her head.

“You can trust
me
.” Frowning, he pointed at his chest. “And look, they may not have even been trying to rat, people get carried away, showing off ’nd shit. These women aren’t used to havin’ shit. You and I know what that was like. They’ve never had it this good before. It’s hard to not be flashy when you wake up one morning after being broke your whole life and your purse is busting with cash on a continuous basis. But it takes a certain type of personality to be able to handle that new responsibility. Like Biggie said, ‘More money, more problems.’ The more money I make, the quieter I become. For others, it don’t work that way. They’ve never seen money like this before. You learned a hard lesson.”

He pushed his concerns about the snitch to the back of his mind, but didn’t want Paris feeling worse than she already did. He realized that if they didn’t stop the bleeding at the source, this could play out all over again, and he’d be a damn target.

“Look.” He rose to his feet. “Get on some clothes. I want you to stay at the apartment with your girls. I have some errands to run, but I am going to drive you over there myself and drop you off. Take your gun with you and don’t leave that house until I tell you, do you understand?”

She got up and nodded, looking a bit embarrassed. He felt terrible for the woman.

“Okay, good.” He slid his own gun out from his holster, checked it, then placed the weapon back on his hip. “I came over here strapped because I didn’t know where the hell you’d disappeared to or what to expect. Anyway, I’m glad that at least from a physical standpoint, you’re alright. I hate to rush you, but you’ve got fifteen minutes to get some clothes on. You’re still the Madam of that house, so you lift your chin high, and you walk in there like everything is cool, like not a damn thing changed, okay?”

She smiled weakly, and his heart shattered at the sight. “Okay.” Turning, she walked away while he waited up front. He put his hands on his hips and turned in a circle.

“Fuck! Shit!” he spat between clenched teeth. He refused to continue to see her like this, looking helpless. He’d worry for the both of them, but one thing showed crystal clear—desperate men do desperate things, and desperate things often bring about a world of hurt…

*

“As usual, Smoke
isn’t answering his phone!”

When they’d first gotten together, he always answered her calls on the second damn ring. After he met Paris, she was lucky to even get a text. So, he’d left her no choice.

Felicia sat in her teal Honda right outside his door, gripping her steering wheel like a vice. She swore she’d
never
go to that man’s place of business again, that she wouldn’t even spit on him if he were on fire. All lies she told herself to simply make it over the hurdle of losing the love of her life. She glanced casually at the place, trying to talk herself out of walking up to the door, but knew better. After a few moments, she gave out a hiss and made her decision, cursing all the way until she found herself with her red painted fingernail on the doorbell. A woman she’d never laid eyes on before opened it, revealing herself in a bright canary yellow jumper with cute tan and yellow platform shoes. Her reddish brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, revealing attractive, vibrant green eyes and a smattering of freckles across her nose.