Unconditionally Single (11 page)

D
on’t take your money to your grave.

Honey’s ass had it going on. Unlike me, she was not hoarding her money. I drove up her long driveway, parked the front of my rental facing the exit for a fast getaway if necessary. Her damn resort home blinged like a Vegas casino. A row of luxury cars, none under eighty grand, lined her driveway. Neither my house nor my car in Vegas measured up to any of this.

I got my suitcase, carried it a few steps. Onyx greeted me at the door before I touched the doorbell. I pressed the platinum cobra and heard the sound of chimes blowing in the wind. Stepping in the foyer, I asked, “How did Valentino and Benito get in?”

Onyx retorted, “Girl Six was the last one to leave and I need to know if she left the door opened. If she’s involved. Now I can’t find her. She’s not answering her damn phone.”

Was Girl Six involved in Honey’s disappearance? She was the last escort to move in with Honey. The only one who’d stayed behind in Las Vegas. The only one that Honey had beaten. The last one to leave the house this morning. How much did any of that matter now that Honey was safe? I wasn’t interested in arresting Girl Six. Had she refused me, knowing she’d made a deal with Valentino? How much did any of that matter now that Honey was safe?

“We’re upstairs,” Onyx said, leading the way.

I regretted how badly I’d treated Girl Six when she was a guest at my Las Vegas home. Girl Six and I had had sex, watched movies together. She was my company. She was the only one of Honey’s girls who had come to me and confided in me how brutally Honey had beat, kicked, and stomped her. Told me Honey’s beating had fractured a few of her ribs. Hearing that pissed me off. I had changed my mind about letting Honey keep the money and insisted Girl Six accept Honey’s offer to live with the other girls in Atlanta. Revenge came in many forms. What if Girl Six had volunteered as Valentino’s informant? I couldn’t blame her. What if she’d preplanned walking out of Honey’s house for good this morning not knowing about the kidnapping?

Entering a conference room filled with Honey’s girls, the same girls I’d seen in Vegas when I handed Honey the cashier’s check for half of Valentino’s money, I said, “Good evening, ladies.”

The girls greeted me in unison. I nodded at Red Velvet. Good to see she was on board. But this was no time to be friendly. “Okay, listen up,” I told all the girls. Slowly circling the sofas in the family room, I looked each of them in their eyes. “If any of you know anything about Honey’s kidnapping, this is the time for you to speak up.”

All the girls were quiet. Red Velvet raised her hand.

“Yes,” I said, noticing her shapely legs. I guessed stripping did wonders for the body.

“I have to be in LA in a few days for my lead role in a movie. How long is this search for Honey going to take?” she asked.

Onyx answered, “As long as it takes.”

“See, I’m not seeing eye-to-eye with her ass, that’s why I asked you.”

“She’s right,” I said, not wanting to agree with Onyx, but I couldn’t support any of the girls disrespecting her.

“We’ll see about that,” Red Velvet commented.

No need to acknowledge her. Red Velvet was determined to have the last word over Onyx but she’d best not try it with me. “I’m taking half of you with me to Stilettos and the rest of you will stay here. Onyx,” I said, curling my finger.

We stepped out of the room, and I closed the door. “How many of the girls have handguns?”

Onyx laughed. “Of course I have mine, and I gave one to Red Velvet, but all of the girls have forty-fives.”

“Perfect. I need you to pick four girls plus Red Velvet. She’s the only one who knows Trevor well and she’s on our team. I like her.” I opened the door.

“You, you, you, you, and”—Onyx pointed at Red Velvet—“you. Come with me. The rest of you are on standby. If we need you, I’ll call you.”

Standing in the foyer, I instructed, “When we get to the club, split up. I’ll handle the arrest. Your job is to prevent Valentino from trying to escape. Trip him, push him down, shoot him if you must, but don’t kill him. The same goes for Benito. Let’s go.”

We arrived at the club. The girls did as I’d told them. All except Red Velvet. She was having a reunion with the strippers, laughing and chatting with Trevor. Onyx’s lips were tight.

“Let it go. You can’t control her,” I said, but knew the burning sensation disrespect created.

Eight o’clock. I walked outside, patrolled the parking lot. No Valentino. Went inside and sat by Onyx. “Anything?”

“No,” she said. “I have another plan.”

“I’m listening.”

“If Valentino is broke, he’ll revert to pimping. We can put the girls on a quick stroll by the hot spot near the theme park. See if we get any leads,” Onyx suggested, then said, “I’m really disappointed in Grant. He gave his word that he’d be here. He lied.”

I remained quiet, listening to the crowd chant, “We want Red Velvet!” The louder they’d chant, the more Red Velvet smiled but she was smart not to get on the stage.

I maintained focus on my surroundings. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. The hours passed slowly. No Valentino or Benito. “Gather up the girls. Put Plan B in motion. I’ll have the hotel rooms waiting.”

A
ll my adult life I’d taken care of myself. I’d never been protected or in protective custody. I was a proud independent woman. The second I’d stop living my life my way, I’d die. I sat on the couch watching Hunter massage his big dick. It seemed automatic for him to touch himself frequently. He was engrossed in watching the morning news. I was turned on watching him. I’d seen, touched, smelt, fucked, and jacked-off so many dicks, Hunter’s actions didn’t offend me.

Most men couldn’t relate to my wealth and I couldn’t comprehend their ignorance. “I don’t care how much money a woman makes, I’m still the man.” I saw straight through that bullshit. Translation: “I wish I had your money but since I don’t, I’m going to dick you down real good and convince you to give me access to all your shit so I can impress my boys and other chicks.”

A dick and balls didn’t make a man, but Hunter had me hot. Made me curious. I wanted to see his dick. See if it was big like my favorite porn star’s, Lex.

The news had begun interfering with my sexual energy. Every other person was shot, killed, raped, homeless, unemployed, and so forth. I went into the bedroom, got a throw pillow, returned to the sofa, faced Hunter, and lay on my stomach. The T-shirt I wore, the one Sapphire had given me, barely covered my naked booty. Closing my eyes, I trampled through my mind creating my newsworthy highlights.

If a woman selling her body to keep a roof over her head was considered a prostitute, then what were the men called who solicited pussy in exchange for cash? Why were male prostitutes glorified as gigolos if they were heterosexual? Ostracized if they were homosexual? Yet if a woman, irrespective of her sexual orientation, was promiscuous, she was a ho, no explanation needed. Society had been bamboozled by a bunch of hypocrites.

I glanced at Hunter, exhaled. His hand roamed inside his sweats, stroking his dick. I squirmed, redirected my attention to the television.

“Breaking News” scrolled at the bottom of the screen.

“Do we have to watch this?” I asked Hunter.

“The news may not be what we’d prefer to hear but it’s real.”

I countered, “It’s propaganda.”

A reporter standing near the flagpole where I’d shot Ken announced, “A man identified as Ken Draper has been charged with four counts of rape, and one count of first-degree murder. He’s listed in stable condition after suffering a gunshot to his genitals. It’s alleged that Ken’s last victim shot him before fleeing the cemetery. An unknown person e-mailed this video clip of a woman wearing a red suit shooting Ken Draper. Anyone with information on the alleged victim is asked to call this number….”

Hunter stared at me. “Guess I wouldn’t like the news either if I was on it. That’s the suit you had on. That’s your hair. And your ass,” he said, admiring my butt. “I’m all ears. What happened?”

Thank God my face was not in the video. Whoever taped me had done so from behind. Hunter was not getting that close to me. Relieved that Ken was alive, I ignored Hunter. Ken deserved to suffer, but I didn’t want to have another man’s blood on my hands, on my conscience.

I began fantasizing about what to do once I got out of this web Valentino had created. Maybe move to California, where same-sex marriages were once recognized by law, cannabis clubs were legally thriving for medicinal purposes and prostitution was on the brink of legalization. Instead of men traveling to Amsterdam and Brazil, I could bring the women to America, host conventions in San Francisco and invite swingers and swappers to join in the fun. The demand for sex wasn’t going away and women should have the right to choose prostitution as a career so hopefully men like Ken would freely pay for pussy instead of raping women.

“Fine, don’t answer,” Hunter said, interrupting my thoughts. “But if you change your mind, seriously I want to hear from you what happened today.”

“I hope Sapphire has Valentino in custody so I can go home to my man.”

Hunter said, “Not me. I want to get to know you,” resuming his massage.

Successful women were prey for fast-talking, good-looking, shiftless men in search of free rides and riders. Most men didn’t know how to fuck or make love. The way Hunter’s hand grooved up and down his shaft, he had good rhythm. I’d been with enough johns to testify firsthand that too many men were horrible in bed. They didn’t know the purpose of a woman’s clit, where her G-spot or erogenous zones were. Men wanted to control women but didn’t know how to control their dicks by prolonging their erection until their women were satisfied. Had Hunter learned to prolong his pleasure by constantly stimulating his dick? I wanted to see him masturbate.

Having to create my own happiness without my parents or a man, part of me felt miserably trapped in this condo with Hunter. The other part of me felt like a celebrity hiding from crazed fans. Was being married going to overwhelm me? Maybe I was better off being unconditionally single than being conditionally married. Would Grant help with the kids? Or would he be a part-time husband and dad expecting me to become a stay-at-home mother while he stayed away from home? How long should I pretend I was missing? If I called off the charade, I could leave now.

I continued lying on the sofa. I watched Hunter recline in the oversized leather chair, spread his legs wider. His pelvis sunk between the arms. His long legs stretched beyond the footrest, neck wrestled with the headrest in search of comfort. Remote control in one hand, dick in the other. Gun on the end table beside him, pointed away from me.

Hunter’s lips were succulent, mustache neat. I imagined him kissing my pussy. I understood Sapphire hitting on him but her approach was self-destructive. Hunter was a man. Men were hunters. Hunters enjoyed the chase, take away the chase, take away his interest.

“Hunter.”

“What would you like?” he asked, watching me and the news at the same time.

“I’m going crazy cooped up in here.” I stood, stretched. “I need to get out. Breathe fresh air. Take me for a walk…outside.”

He stared at the imprints of my nipples under the loose-fitting T-shirt, witnessing my excitement. The T-shirt Sapphire had given me was all I’d slept in and all I’d worn since showering this morning. Last time I’d asked, two hours ago, to stretch my legs, Hunter created an obstacle course in the living room, then selected yoga via on-demand.

“Make this temporary arrangement easy on us. Stop asking for what you can’t have,” he said, sounding annoyed.

“Okay, I’ll stop asking if you tell me where I am.”

“That would defeat the purpose of my being your bodyguard and violate my contract. You wouldn’t want me to breach my contract, would you?”

Honoring his responsibilities was a good indication that Hunter could be loyal. “Fine, then talk to me. Tell me about yourself,” I said, plopping on the couch, spreading my thighs. “I can’t sit here on the sofa all day watching you entertain your dick and watch television.” I was used to getting up, showering, getting dressed, and leaving my house every day, unless I was in bed with Grant.

Hunter smiled, glanced between my legs, then asked, “What would you like to know?”

Did he prefer bald or hairy pussies? Some of my johns hated hairless pussies. Said the smoothness reminded them of girls, not women. My Brazilian wax never stopped a man from fucking me.

“Back into it. Start from today, then tell me how you became a bodyguard, then tell me about your childhood, and conclude with telling me about your parents.”

Hunter reclined, lowered his sweats under his balls, squeezed his dick, pumped three times, then stroked. “Not sure if we have enough time for the entire debriefing. I’ll do my best.” He turned off the television, pulled up his sweats, moved to the opposite end of the sofa facing me. No smile. His elbows leaned on his knees. He had this hypnotic stare. His eyes were set so far back they seemed to hide from his face.

He exhaled. “I seriously need to talk about my life.”

Oh, God. I prayed he wasn’t one of those men who badgered women with their depressing problems. I asked for it but I didn’t have to take it. If Hunter was a chronic complainer, I was prepared to end our conversation.

He stared at the white carpet. “Every time I say, ‘I’m getting out of this business,’ someone makes me an offer I can’t refuse. Boss told me this was easy money. I’m not going to lie. I do need the money. Boss said I wouldn’t have to kill anyone unless your life was in jeopardy. My game high points scored when I played college basketball was seven.”

He sucked at basketball? To laugh would’ve been rude so I laughed on the inside.

Hunter looked at me. “Protecting my clients, I’ve killed more than seven people. It’s my job but I’m tired of playing God.”

Seven wasn’t a large number. Having killed one person, I couldn’t imagine multiplying that by seven. Hunter’s eyes penetrated my spirit. I understood his pain. Courage pulled the trigger when I shot Ken. I wanted to avenge the women Ken had murdered but vengeance was not mine.

Hunter moved to the middle of the sofa. Placed my feet in his lap. “I didn’t expect you to be so beautiful,” he said, massaging my foot. “After seeing you, I wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone who’d attempt to hurt you. Best you don’t tell me what Ken Draper did to you.”

He was not getting me to tell him about Ken. “I haven’t killed seven people, only one. Would kill again if I had to, but I don’t want to kill again,” I said, lying flat on the sofa. Hunter’s foot massage relaxed my body. “You had a good childhood?”

“No. I had a great childhood. I have two wonderful parents but they have no idea what I do to earn my keep. I split my time between sting operations and protecting people like you. My parents think I’m an exterminator.” Rotating his thumbs on the ball of my foot, Hunter blinked repeatedly.

“Can’t relate to the parent thing. I was never a child,” I said. “You are an exterminator of sorts. But I get it. They think you kill bugs, I mean pests. You know what I mean. You’ve covered that one.”

Hunter mumbled, “More like about to be exterminated.” His hands moved up my leg, massaged my shin. “You’re the first woman I’ve met that I like, who can relate to how I feel. And you’re so beautiful.” He strummed the back of my knee with his fingertips, making my pussy quiver.

I pulled away, tucked my heel under my ass. I’d be safer at home if the person protecting me needed protection too. “What did you mean by ‘more like you’re about to be exterminated’?”

“Part of the business. Eventually someone will come after me. Sorry I mentioned it. I’m curious,” he said, scooting closer.

“About?”

“Can I do a taste test? See if you really taste like your name?”

I placed my feet flat on the sofa, parted my knees, closed my eyes. Hunter couldn’t replace my love for Grant, but I wanted Hunter to take the edge off my sexual frustrations.

His moist lips kissed my shaft. His tongue spread my lips, then gently touched my pearl. “I don’t know who’s prettier,” he said, kissing me again.

I moaned, “Suck her for me, Hunter. I’m so fucking hot, I’ve got to cum or I’ma explode.”

Hunter eased his finger inside my pussy, strummed my G-spot, sucked my clit.

“I’m cumming already,” I moaned.

The door opened. We looked up at Sapphire. Damn! Bad timing. I sat up, clenched my pussy muscles, slid to the edge of the sofa, exhaled, and release the rest of my orgasm. Hunter picked up the remote, moved back to the recliner, turned on the television.

Sapphire sat on the sofa between us, closer to Hunter, turned to him, then lamented, “I told you to protect, not service her.”

“Did you arrest Valentino?” I asked.

“Neither Valentino nor Benito showed up last night. I’ll find them by tomorrow but I’m going to need the fifty mil to lure him. You’ll get it back,” she said, looking at me.

Tomorrow?
I didn’t believe her. “How do you know Valentino will give back my money?”

“Because he’ll never get it,” she said.

Hunter’s eyes widened, mine closed.

I asked her, “Then why do you need it?” Opening my eyes, I searched hers for the answer.

Sapphire turned her back to Hunter, faced me. “Are you saying you don’t trust me?”

I stared at the ceiling. I was not giving her my money. “I trust you—”

“But?”

“But we both know how shit can go wrong. What about Grant?”

Sapphire stared into my eyes. “He didn’t show up at Stilettos either.”

Tears burned my eyes. I scratched my brow, rubbed my neck, tugged my shirt. “I need a last will and testament.”

“Honey, you’re not dying. This arrangement is only for a few days. I—”

“I can take care of that for you if you’d like,” Hunter said. “Whatever you want. That’s why I’m here.”

Ignoring Hunter, I asked Sapphire, “Did Grant call you?”

“No. Honey, all I can advise is to be very careful with Hunter, darling. Grant loves you.” Sapphire stood, pointed at Hunter. “I know what you’re up to,” then told me, “You’re grown. You decide what’s best for you. I’ll be back later. Next time I’ll knock first.” Sapphire slammed the door behind her.

Hunter sat at the computer for fifteen minutes, printed a few pages, sat beside me on the sofa, handed me a blank last will and testament document.

“Let’s start with your beneficiaries,” he said, holding a pen.

“Hunter, I don’t have any. I gave each of my girls a million so they’ve got theirs. I hate my parents. I’m uncertain about Grant. I guess I could leave something to my sister’s son and maybe Red Velvet. Or divide everything equally between my girls. This is sad that I have lots of money and no one I want to leave it to.”

Hunter held my hand. “I prepared the will for my parents. It’s simple, and what’s great is you can always change it. I’ll help you decide for now. Let me call your parents. Tell them you’re dying and they have to come to Atlanta right away. When they arrive—”

I shook my head. “That won’t work. They won’t come.”

“Trust me, they’ll come.”

“My money?”

Hunter smiled. “Yep. My suggestion is, when they arrive you let me interrogate the shit out of them. I’ll tell them you need a kidney and one of them has to give it to you and neither of them is leaving until your surgery is a success. Then I’ll ask who wants to volunteer. If they volunteer without reservation, you know they love you. I say give them a check on the spot and name them in your will. If neither one of them speak up, I say give them a check—”