Unconditionally Single (3 page)

I
f the women took care of the women, the world would be a better place.

I’d come to Honey’s office to invite my girl to lunch. Pop champagne and celebrate my exciting news. Thanks in part to Honey, I was on my way to Hollywood to star in my first feature film,
Something on the Side.
My juicy booty and big titties wore my leopard hip-hugging dress that stopped right above my knees. My mani and pedi were the new hot color all the celebs were sporting since Obama was elected, black. My long brown hair swayed across my back. My juicy red lips and dramatic eyelashes commanded attention. Honey told me it was better for a woman to command attention by the way she presented herself. Stripping for a few years at Stilettos, the switch in my hips made men beg to lick my clit.

Posing with my hand on my hip, I was not prepared to hear Onyx tell me, “Honey has been kidnapped.” Honey didn’t adhere to the law, she lived by her own rules. I had to admit her methods were unorthodox but highly effective. I prayed Honey was okay.

Kneeling on the plush gray carpet, I buried my face in my hands and screamed, “Noooo,” then held tight to Onyx’s smooth-shaven leg. Clawing my way up her skirt, I held her curvy hips, gripped her waist, then clamped her biceps. Her muscles were firm, her stance was weak as mine. My trembling hands slowly slid down her silky jet black skin to her long slender fingers. I interlocked my fingers with hers, then squeezed real tight before letting go. Two inches from her face, I cupped my wet cheeks, crying between sniffles. “Where is Honey? Please tell me where she’s at. Is she all right? What are we waiting for? Let’s go get her.”

Onyx held up her hand. “Red Velvet, please stop. You’re not helping.”

I backed away from Onyx. She wasn’t aware of my feelings for Honey. I was Honey’s first pro bono client. Honey had tracked down my son’s father, Alphonso, blackmailed him, got me seventy-two grand in back child support from the creep, a sleazebag who’d raped and impregnated me, then threatened me not to call him ever again ’cause he didn’t want his wife to know he’d fathered our son, Ronnie.

Onyx and I were alone in the office. Onyx came to me, held the phone behind my back, hugged me, pulled my nose to hers, then whispered, “I’m scared too. Before you walked in, I heard gunshots.”

“Huh…gun?” I cried. “God, no. Don’t take Honey.” I was four years younger than Honey. An only child with a child, I’d felt like Honey’s baby sister when she’d come to my aid.

Onyx slapped her palm to my mouth, smearing my red lipstick. Her large brown irises swept hard against her eyelids, loosening the edge of her lash. “If he hurts Honey, I swear, I’ma kill him. No questions asked.”

Could I kill? For my son, definitely. My mother, absolutely. Honey, maybe. Honey believed in my dreams of becoming an actor. She’d accompanied me to Los Angeles to meet with my agent and took us to Alphonso’s house unannounced so that Ronnie could meet his father for the first time. When Honey boldly invited herself, my mother, and Ronnie in, I stayed in the car. While questioning Alphonso and his wife about Ronnie, Honey discovered Alphonso was Sapphire’s stepfather and later learned from Sapphire that the scumbag had repeatedly raped Sapphire when she was sixteen.

The triangle of triumphs uniting Honey, Sapphire, and me was no coincidence. Scared to tell her mother, Sapphire became a runaway or as the system had labeled her, voluntarily missing. At the age of sixteen, Honey had been kicked out of her house. I’d never met Honey’s mother but any woman who’d put her child out was mean.

My mom would never put me out. Not much to say about my dad. No man I’d ever met had put me first, including my dad. Not the way Mr. President treated our First Lady. I saw the love in President Obama’s eyes for his wife, Michelle, his daughters, Sasha and Malia. I wanted a man to feel that way about me. The possibility existed. I knew it did the moment I saw how Grant looked through me (without speaking a word) and saw Honey. I felt his love for her was ingrained in his eyes, his heart, his pores, his spirit, and his delicate touch. Grant and Mr. President showed me that if a man didn’t look into my eyes with passion and compassion, that meant he was reserving that special part of himself for someone else.

It was too quiet in the office. Onyx’s face was expressionless as she held the phone to her ear. “What are they saying?” I asked her.

“Nothing. I’m pissed at Valentino. He didn’t earn the money. We did.” Onyx mumbled, “Men ain’t shit.”

I’d lost faith in men when my father abandoned me, left my mother to bear the burden of raising me alone. Had my father forgotten I was alive? He’d taken the initiative to get my mom pregnant, but did he expect me to take the initiative to contact him? There was a part of me that maintained hope that all men were not selfish like Valentino and my father. So far, I’d been wrong. I refused to give up my dream of believing good single men existed. Had to maintain that sparkle in my eyes so my son wouldn’t become the type of man his father was. And so my childbearing hips could spit out a baby for my future husband. Whoever he was.

No pity party for Velvet Waters. I was blessed. Thanks to my mother, I knew love and I knew how to love. I was grateful to have a mother who sacrificed treating herself like a queen in order to make me her princess. Couldn’t imagine life without my mother. Other than my mom, Honey was the only woman who had shown me love. I had to help find Honey but had no idea where to go.

Onyx wiped her tears. “Before you came in, Valentino demanded his money back. Wants me to get it to him. I’ll gladly give him the million dollars Honey gave me. I’m sure the other girls would do the same, but he wants fifty million, not eleven. If I don’t get him what he wants, I don’t know what he’ll do…. He might…” Onyx drew me closer to her.

What was I getting into? Scared, I cried harder, praying my life wasn’t endangered over money I didn’t have or have access to. Onyx spoke about millions of dollars as though it was no big deal. Honey was a megamillionaire? I stared at the dangling black diamonds in Onyx’s ears, the Rolex watch, and the large square emerald surrounded by diamonds. The ring fit comfortably on her middle finger. Onyx was rich for real? The other girls were too? They seemed so ordinary, down to earth. I was more diva-ish than Onyx. With so much going on, I hadn’t dwelled on the fact that thanks to Honey, I too would become a millionaire once I made it to Hollywood and picked up my check from my agent.

Pulling away from Onyx, I matched the intensity of her hatred for a man I hadn’t met. “You sure you heard gunshots?” I was outraged. A real man would never take money from a woman. Before she answered, my voice escalated. “Who the fuck does Valentino think he is? Where is he? I’ma kick his ass.” I was cute but I’d fight if I had to. Kicking his ass was better than killing him.

Onyx pressed the mute button on the phone, then raised the phone to her ear. “This isn’t Hollywood, Red Velvet. Stop acting. This shit is real. Valentino might try to kill all of us.” Her large breasts repeatedly rose and fell. I suffocated, forgot to breathe. This nightmare had to end.

S
tanding in Honey’s office of Sweeter than Honey, I told myself, “Think, Velvet.” I noticed the place was immaculate. How much had she paid for the chocolate desk with platinum trimming facing the door? The plush wall-to-wall carpet? On the opposite side of the room, beyond the ceiling-to-floor glass window, was a chocolate round table covered with a custom mirror, surrounded by six white leather chairs. Surveillance cameras inside black domes were mounted on the ceiling. How much could we get for the office and the furniture?

A tall, thin woman about six feet tall stormed into the office, interrupting my thoughts. “Help me, please! My husband is threatening to kill me if I leave him. He’s crazy! He’ll do it. He’s following me. I have to hide.”

Reacting as though she was accustomed to the woman’s type of behavior, Onyx firmly told her, “Get behind my desk and be quiet. I’m in the middle of a crisis.” Onyx retrieved a key from her bra, opened one of the lower desk drawers, removed a .45, all while she continued holding the phone to her ear with her other hand.

Bam!
The office door swung open. I jumped aside. A madman approached me. “Where’s my woman?”

Click.
Onyx pointed the gun at his face. “Get the fuck out of here and don’t come back unless you want a bullet in your head. She doesn’t want you.”

His flaming red eyes scanned the conference room. “I saw her come in here. I’m not leaving without my woman,” he grunted.

Onyx calmly sat the phone on her desk, pointed the gun at his head. “You’ve got three seconds to leave. One…two…”

“Don’t shoot him!” the woman yelled, coming from behind the desk. “Please don’t kill my husband.”

Click.
Onyx pointed the gun at the woman, told her, “Get out of my office.”

“No, no. It’s okay. Shoot
him,”
the woman said, backing away from Onyx. Her eyes moved in different directions but she hadn’t looked at her man. “I can’t take him beating me. Help me, please.”

Help her?
I had to rescue Honey first.

“You’re going to regret this day,” the man said, backing up toward the door. “You’ve got to come home eventually and when you do, I’ma beat your ass so bad you’ll wish you were dead.” He shot her a menacing glare before leaving.

“Get her an intake form. Put her in the conference room. I’ll help her later,” Onyx said, putting the gun in the drawer. She locked the drawer, placed the key in her bra.

I escorted the woman to the conference room. “Have a seat, fill this out, and stay here. I’ll be back,” I said, closing the glass door, returning to Onyx.

Onyx’s eyes closed. Tears streamed over her cheeks, staining her sleeveless gold silk blouse. Her mouth opened. Blackberry lips parted, exposing chocolate gums that complimented white teeth. Circling her long black ponytail in her palm, she jammed the phone to her ear, squinted. She was taking too long to say something. I snatched the phone from her hand.

Onyx waved at me. “I was listening. Waiting. Do not hang up. Honey said, ‘Don’t hang up.’ Things got quiet but I think she’s still on the other end. Oh, God, help us, please.” rubbing her palms on her skirt, Onyx paced the floor, circled her desk.

I pressed the phone to my ear, heard lots of static.

Onyx cried. “He’s serious. He killed Sunny and he’ll kill Honey. Valentino is crazy. He’s going to kill her if he doesn’t get his money back. I know he will.”

Killed Sunny? His money back? Honey had stolen his money? I had to find
my replacement for my acting gig.
“I’ma call Grant. He’ll straighten this out. Grant is a real man and he’ll kick Valentino’s ass.” I scrolled my electronic phonebook.

I’d saved Grant’s number in my phone when my ex-boss, Trevor Williams, owner of Stilettos, arranged for me to pleasure Grant. I’d sexed Grant so Grant would partner with Trevor on a real estate development deal. I didn’t know the details of their deal. All I knew was I’d gotten paid one grand to fuck a fine ass man that I would’ve sexed for free. The business deal collapsed when Grant declined Trevor’s offer. The encounter with Grant happened before I’d met Honey but Honey sensed our energy. At first she was mad at me. Then she was upset with Grant. None of that mattered now that her life was endangered.

Onyx shook her head. “I talked to him before you got here. He’s on his way.”

“That’s whatz up.” Plan B. “I’ll call Sapphire then.” I pressed the letter S on my phone.

I’d met Sapphire at a bar in Las Vegas. Honey and Grant were upstairs in their hotel room having make-up sex. I didn’t want to stay alone in my room so I went to the bar. Sat next to this sexy stranger. The more we talked, introduced ourselves, I found out Sapphire knew Honey and Alphonso. What I didn’t know that night was Sapphire also knew Grant. Our separation was less than six degrees.

“She’s on her way too,” Onyx said.

Relieved that we had serious backup on the way, I yelled into the cordless, “Hey! Valentino! Answer this damn phone. This is Red Velvet, motherfucker.”

The constant static in the phone stopped. Silence crept into my ear. Chills crawled up my spine, tensing my neck when I heard a man’s voice, “Who the hell is this?”

“This is Red Velvet and I’m going to personally beat your ass if you harm Honey.” I stood in the doorway. The outskirts of downtown Atlanta were close to the hood. Convenience must’ve been Honey’s motive for choosing this location on Peachtree. “Punk. Where is Honey?”

Calmly he said, “I thought this call had dropped. Put Onyx on the phone, Red Velvet.”

“I’m running this show. You gon’ talk to me.”

“Okay, Red Velvet. Is red your favorite color?” he asked.

“Yours?” I countered. “Stop wasting my time, you motherfucking coward. Where in the hell is Honey?”

“Honey is dead.”

Speechless, I prayed the fool was bluffing. He wasn’t that stupid. If Honey was dead, why would he be talking to me?

“You mean Lace. If I don’t get my money, she’s going to die,” he said. “I’m a generous motherfucker so I’ll personally drop her dead ass off on Blackland in front of her house, and trust me you won’t be able to identify her body. Or I’ll take her to a mortuary after I cut off her arms and legs. Save the coroner a trip. Since you’re in charge, you decide. You can give me my money in exchange for your precious Lace St. Thomas. Or I’ma put your ass on your back, spread your legs wide open until
you
fuck enough johns to earn me my money, bitch. All of it!”

Lace St. Thomas? Honey must’ve given Valentino a fake name.

Memories of Alphonso Allen raping me on Venice Beach haunted me. Valentino’s words took me back to a place I hated going. In my mind I could feel the sand in my hair, Alphonso’s dick trying to dig out my insides. I blamed myself for trusting a man I didn’t know. The more I cried, the harder he fucked me, until he came, until he emptied his seeds inside of me, then left me alone to give birth to his son. I wanted to abort his baby but I couldn’t kill my child.
Fuck Valentino.
He couldn’t put me on a stroll. Could he? I had to sort this out quick. I gestured at Onyx. She took the phone.

“Valentino, give me forty-eight hours,” Onyx pleaded. “I’ll find a way to wire you the money. I can’t withdraw funds from Honey’s account but I think I can arrange a wire.”

“What? Are you crazy?” I snatched the phone from Onyx. “We ain’t giving your ass shit, you hear me. No Honey, no money. You wanna talk? Meet us tonight at Stilettos Strip Club at eight o’clock and don’t be late. I want to meet your retarded ass in person.”

“You’re a hothead. Liable to get yourself killed tonight. I’ll be there. Eight o’clock. But your forty-eight hours start right now,” Valentino said, ending the call.

“Hello? Hello?” I looked at Onyx, then said, “He’s gone.”

Onyx sat behind her desk.

I sat on top of her desk. “Now what?”

Onyx pointed at the leather-cushioned seat beside her desk. I eased into it.

“I want you to come to our house, meet the other women, but keep this between us for now. I can’t trust any of them, especially Girl Six,” said Onyx, picking up her cell phone. She touched her keypad several times, placed her cell phone back on the desk.

Who was Girl Six?
If I had to meet them, I had to look right. I got my lipstick and compact mirror, then said, “We need Sapphire Bleu.” I stroked on a fresh coat of red. “She’ll take care of Valentino.”

Our triangle had the law to protect us. Sapphire was a cop, Honey’s friend, and my new friend. But I didn’t know Sapphire or Onyx the way I thought I knew Honey.

Onyx held my hand, then said, “I owe Honey my life. We all do. The other eleven girls too.”

“Where they at? The other girls you keep talkin’ ‘bout. Shouldn’t they be here? They could help us.” More like take over for me so I wouldn’t miss my flight to LA. My relocation was in a few days but no one knew how long Honey would be missing.

“They’re all out working, trying to convince prostitutes to stop selling their bodies. Red Velvet, we were all escorts in Vegas. High paid escorts. Honey was our madam. Honey started this business in Atlanta to help women get off their backs. Now she’s the one who needs our help. Let’s go,” said Onyx. She picked up her purse. “I just texted Girl Six and she hasn’t hit me back.”

I followed Onyx to the door, stood outside and waited for her to lock up. I was beginning to understand that Honey was like the drug dealer who’d built a community center for neighborhood kids. Her money was dirty but her intentions were pure. What if Valentino didn’t bring Honey to Stilettos? What if he didn’t show up? What if Trevor was still upset with me for quitting?

Trying to reassure myself more than Onyx, I said, “We’ll find Honey. Believe that. This car is straight sexy.” I settled into her sweet ass black-on-black Lexus LX with tinted windows, the kind of car men envied a woman having. This was not the car Onyx was in when she dropped Honey and me off at Hartsfield when Honey took me to Las Vegas and Los Angeles.

Onyx kept her focus on our surroundings as she drove past the Fox Theatre. I had to ask, “What was it like? Being an escort. You know, lots of females have sex for free, let men used them. Must be better getting paid. How much did you make?”

A cold, hard expression appeared on her face. Onyx stopped at the red light at Seventeenth, then stared at me. “A woman would be better off auctioning her soul to the devil than letting a different man stick his dick in her mouth…pussy…asshole every night. Sometimes two, three, four men a night. Back-to-back-to-back. Two grand a night isn’t worth it when you end up shot in the head like my best friend, Sunny. One day before her twenty-first birthday, that bastard Valentino killed my best friend.”

Onyx wiped her tears. We passed the King Tut exhibit on our right, the Margaret Mitchell Museum to our left. I prayed Honey’s spirit hadn’t gone with the wind. Honey was a survivor. Onyx made an illegal U-turn, doubled back to Seventeenth, turned left, headed toward Atlantic Station. That was near my house.

“Don’t take me home. Best if I stay out while my mom has my son.”

“I’m not taking you home,” she said. “Just driving around to see where the girls are. See if I spot Honey or Valentino.”

Gently, I placed my hand on Onyx’s thigh. “I’m so sorry to hear about your friend.”

Onyx’s leg trembled. She spoke as though she hadn’t heard me. “Honey could’ve left us in Vegas but she didn’t. She gave us airline tickets. All of us came right away, except Girl Six.” Onyx’s eyes widened. She picked up her cell, placed a call, then said, “Girl Six, get your ass to the house. Now.”

Eyes shifting to Onyx, bottom lip tucked between my teeth, I asked, “You think Girl Six set Honey up?”

“Don’t know. The prostitution business made us hard-core. You’re a bad bitch yourself the way you stumped your spiked heel into that man’s wife’s pussy,” she said, giving me props.

Tolliver’s wife came to Stilettos the night Honey and Onyx were there. My mom had asked Honey to show up at Stillettos to convince me to quit stripping. Tolliver’s wife wanted him to stop fucking me. She had the right idea, wrong approach. When his wife tried to stab me in my back with a knife during my on-stage performance, Honey grabbed her. Onyx hit Tolliver in the head with her stiletto. And I stomped Tolliver’s wife in her clit with my spiked heel.

“Self-preservation,” I said, glad I’d given up stripping. “You ever been married?”

“I am married.”

“Were you married while you were an escort?”

“Yes,” she said, driving by Victoria’s Secret at Atlantic Station. “He was abusive. Either I left or I was going to kill him. He lucked out. Me too. I love my life now.” Onyx picked up her cellular. “Girl Six didn’t answer her phone. But I’m definitely going to find out if she’s involved in Honey’s disappearance. If she is, she’s dead. No questions asked.”

Onyx and Honey had my back that night but did that make me obligated to both of them? I had my son and my mother to protect. “On second thought, take me home.”

“I need you to stay with me until we find Honey,” she said, heading back toward downtown. “And you’ve got to pay attention to details. You forgot about the client you took into the conference room. I intentionally locked her in the office so she wouldn’t go home. We have to go back to the office, then to the house.”

“I didn’t forget. I assumed you wanted her to stay there,” I lied.

Onyx slammed on her breaks. “Stop lying! This situation is serious!”

Could she get charged with vehicular manslaughter if she had caused my neck to break? Thank God I had on my seat belt. At the peak of my career, I questioned my existence.