Biker Chick (21 page)

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Authors: Dakota Knight

BOOK: Biker Chick
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Chapter Thirty
When I decided to face my troubles . . .
I faced the next morning with clouds in my head. It was Saturday, and since I couldn't sleep, my plan was to be in my car bright and early to make the drive. I thought about what to wear; tight pants and a tight shirt would do the trick, I wanted to expose every curve I had. I wanted to make sure I looked good.
Before I left for my destination, I contacted Ginger. With the late night we had at the club, she was still groggy, but I had to let her know that I would be late.
“It's funny how things work out, right? We think up a great trick to get Dymond to the club and then an emergency really does come up?”
“Do you need any help?” Ginger's voice was heavy with sleep, and I doubted she could help me even if I wanted her to.
“It's something I need to take care of myself. You may need to start without me. That's really okay.”
“But you're Dymond's best friend,” Ginger argued, suddenly alert. “We can't have the party without you.”
“Yes, you can. It's Dymond's party, not mine. Just let her know that I'll be on my way. Can you do that for me?”
“Yeah.”
“Great. I'll see you this evening.”
It took me longer than I wanted to get ready. I lingered in the shower, and it took forever to choose just the right outfit for my trip. My mind began racing with all the probabilities and possibilities of the great betrayers—Ray and Lala. Today, they would only begin to feel my wrath.
I didn't realize how much the news had affected me until I stared at my reflection in the mirror to apply my makeup. My eyes were puffy and surrounded by dark circles. My cheeks seemed drawn in, highlighting my high cheek bones even further. My skin, normally the essence of honey, looked almost gray. My hair was a tangled mess. I would have bet real money that several more silver hairs had sprung up on my head overnight.
I'm not going to be able to take care of business like this
, I thought.
It's time to put your game face on . . . really
. It took about thirty minutes for the puffiness to go down. M•A•C did the rest. By the time I finished applying concealer, foundation, eyeshadow, bronzer, blush, and lipstick, I could have passed for normal. I choose a tight-fitting shirt that could have rivaled my old Doll shirt, except my shirt revealed more cleavage. My jeans melded against my body, highlighting and enhancing all of my good parts.
The sky was as cloudy as my mind. It was overcast, and rain was falling slowly and steadily. I hopped into my CLK, top up, and drove toward the freeway. My destination was the Orient Correctional Complex, a prison located about an hour and a half away from Columbus. It was Ray's current residence. The ride itself was uneventful. I drove slowly, going over every detail of my plans for Ray when I saw him. I had to steel myself and hope I didn't break down when I saw him. Because every time I thought about him with Lala, an anger so deep and dark would gather in the pit of my stomach, ready to explode. When I saw him, I had to be cool and calculated if I was going to make it out of the facility with my dignity intact.
When I finally entered the visitor's area of the prison, I was ready to burst. I didn't know how I would react when I saw him. But my heart was so heavy, I didn't care about much anymore.
I wonder how he will react
. I had written in my journal.
I wonder if he will react at all. What if he acts like it's no big deal? I don't think I would be able to control myself. I will just go in there and say what I have to say and be done with it. I have to prepare myself for the reality that he won't care that I know he was with Lala
.
And I won't cry. That I will not do. He won't have the pleasure of seeing me in tears. I want him to be the one with the tortured nights. I want him to miss me. I want him to suffer . . .
He smiled when he saw me. He still looked the same as when I met him, except for the prison gear. For over four years, I had devoted my heart and soul to that man. I never even thought about looking to someone else, even though he was locked up and I was lonely. I was also seeing him in a different light. He was exposed as the man who had lied to me, betrayed me, and rocked my soul to the core.
“Hey, Ma,” Ray said as he walked up to me. Through the anger and the pain, the love was still there. A yearning that almost made me want to forget what I had learned. “What a surprise. And looking so good, too. Are you tryin' to get a nigga in trouble up in here?”
Ray reached out to hug me. I was pleasured and repulsed at the same time. When I didn't respond to his embrace, he stepped back. “What's wrong?” he asked.
The night before, I had thought about all the things I wanted to say to him. I wanted him to know just how much he had hurt me. All I wanted to know was, “Why?” But in the moment, I couldn't say anything. Instead, I gave him an envelope I held in my hand. The guards usually wouldn't have let me bring it in without opening it, but some gentle prodding and my breasts almost spilling out of my shirt allowed them to cut me some slack.
“A present, huh?” Ray took the envelope.
“Open it,” I said softly.
“You sound all serious and sexy at the same time,” Ray said as he opened the envelope.
When he reached inside and pulled out the picture, he looked puzzled. He flipped the picture around and raised it. “What's this, something new for the boys?” he asked curiously.
At that moment, as I looked at Lala's face in front of me, I knew I couldn't hold back any longer. I grabbed Ray and hugged him tight, and as he bent down to kiss me, I turned my head and whispered in his ear. “I know.”
He released me slowly. I didn't wait for his eyes to connect with mine and I no longer wanted to hear his voice. I turned around and walked away. And he didn't even call out for me.
When I reached my car, the tears started flowing and I started thinking about Lala. She had her part to play in the twisted tale that was my life. As my friend, first and foremost, she should have told me. In many ways, her betrayal was worse than Ray's. I had known her forever, and we had been through the storm together. Yet, for whatever reason, she had betrayed the past, present, and future that was our friendship.
As I headed out of Orient and back to Columbus, all of the emotion I had held inside began to erupt. I fought back tears as I drove, and eventually had to exit at a rest stop to unleash my pain. It was crippling, that emotion that overwhelmed me. Lala. That bitch. She would be at the Doll-house that evening, partying it up with the rest of the ladies. Her celebration wouldn't last long though. See, me and Lala, we were going to have a meeting. A conversation of sorts. And it wasn't going to end well for her.
Part Six
Flight
It may be lonely at the top, but it's
always better than the bottom.
—Highlights from The Hustler's Handbook
 
There's nothing more satisfying
than the luxury of Unrestricted Air.
When will you get your wings?
—Highlights from The Hustler's Handbook
Chapter Thirty-one
To gather my strength from the depths of my soul . . .
I discovered the one thing I hate most in life, and that's backstabbing bitches. Girls who gain your trust through the years and then stick a mental shank in your back at the first opportunity. It really hits a nerve with me. So I felt no remorse when I decided to beat my so-called girl down outside of the Doll House.
After my trip to Orient, I went back home and prepared for my meeting with Lala. I called Ginger to let her know I was on my way. She told me that they did have to start without me, but that the party was still jumping.
“You better hurry up, Silver, we're going to have to stop in another hour to prepare for our Saturday Night Special.” Ginger's tone was festive, and I could hear the music and females talking in the background.
“I'm on my way,” I said. “Hey, is Lala there?” I tried to match Ginger's tone.
“Yeah, want to talk to her?” Ginger asked.
“No. Do me a favor, though. Tell her to meet me outside the club in about fifteen minutes.”
I heard laughter before Ginger said, “What?”
“I said, tell Lala to meet me outside in fifteen minutes.” My voice was more forceful as anger seeped from my breath. Even Ginger noticed my change in tone.
“Everything okay?”
“Fine. Could you do that for me?”
“Sure thing.”
Less than a minute later, I was headed out the door. I positioned my tote bag over my shoulders and secured my helmet. It wasn't raining anymore, and I was ready to ride. I needed to feel Foxy Baby between my thighs. The air surrounding me was saturated, hot and heavy; it seemed to cling to me as I rode through the streets. My emotions threatened to overwhelm me again when the Doll House sign came into view. I was stopped at a red light on Livingston Avenue. It was my last chance to turn back, but I didn't. Once the light turned green, I sped forward, ready to face whatever occurred in the coming moments.
The Doll House's parking lot was scattered with cars belonging to the ladies that worked there. Once I turned off my engine, I could hear the sound of music coming from inside of the club. I didn't see Lala. I frowned, wondering if Ginger had given her the message. I had wanted to take care of business outside, but if everything had to go down in the club, then so be it. I took off my helmet, took my tote off my back, and prepared to enter the club. That's when I heard her voice. That bitch's light, airy, backstabbing voice.
“Hey, Crys, what's up?” Lala asked as she exited the door. “I've been looking out for you. Ginger said . . .”
I didn't let the bitch finish. I didn't want to hear her voice. I wanted her to feel pain. I squared her in the head with my Fendi tote filled with all my hard-ass shit and followed it with a well-placed push. When she hit the deck, I placed one of my black four-inch Jimmy Choo Orchid boots on her chest and pressed down hard, silently hoping the heel would penetrate her flesh.
“You know better than to mess with mine,” I spat out. She was looking at my boot. I know she wanted to grab it, along with my leg, and throw me onto the ground, but she obviously thought better of it when she noticed what I was holding in my hand. I had already reached inside my tote and pulled out my advantage. I was holding my nine in my hand.
Some of the girls from the Doll House caught wind of the action and started coming outside. Yeah, the Doll House might have been the most popular strip club on the east side, but now the parking lot was a ring, and I was in battle with my worst enemy.
“Damn, Silver, why you clock Lala like that?” I heard Tammy say in the background. I ignored her of course, because I didn't have to answer to anybody. But I heard the other ladies whispering, wondering how I found out. Ain't that always the case? The person it affects most always finds out last. So, even the ladies I supported and provided a path to make extra cash hadn't really had my back after all. The news should have devastated me, but it didn't. I had to keep my eyes on the prize.
I focused on Lala. Her cold blue eyes trained on me. I moved my Choo closer to Lala's neck. “I should make you eat this boot,” I said, tapping it against her chest. “At the least, I should make you suck on the fucking heel. With all the dick you suck in the VIP, four inches of Choo should be easy to swallow.”
Lala's eyes started to water. “Girl, you don't know how it went down, I . . .”
“Did I ask you to speak, bitch?” I interrupted her. I didn't want to hear her hoarse voice laced with fear and uncertainty because she didn't know if I would use my piece on her or what.
I heard one of the other girls say, “Go get Dymond, quick.” Heels scurried across the lot.
The other girls knew not to fuck with me, not to mess in my business. Dymond, on the other hand, she was my crew, like family. Shit, Lala was supposed to be like a sister, too, but where did that get me? I knew Dymond would try to stop me from handling mine. I didn't want her in the way. I had to act quick.
“With all the shit we been through, and you going try to undermine me?” I asked coldly. “You going to fuck with my good shit and I made your shit good?” These were hard questions, but I didn't want her to answer. I just wanted to get the shit off my chest, and then put a bullet in her brain with a shot right between the eyes.
“Please, let me explain,” Lala begged. “It just got to me, I didn't want it to happen like it did. You know I would never want to hurt you. I'm so sorry,” she stammered.
“What's to explain? You know why your ass is on the ground. You don't have to explain a fucking thing to me.”
“I can't tell you how sorry . . .”
“Sorry ain't going to get you nowhere but to the grave,” I said.
I heard Dymond coming on the scene. She was yelling and the pounding of feet let me know she was running toward me. I didn't turn around, but I held up my nine so she would know not to get any closer. Angelica, another dancer at the club, came next, calling out my name.
“You all need to step back and let me do this.”
“Girl, don't mess up your life over some bullshit. We need to go into the club and talk this out,” Dymond said, her voice calm.
Dymond's words played over in my mind. My thoughts were frantic as I tried to keep myself under control. “Oh hell no, Dymond. Don't tell me you knew too?” I asked, already knowing the answer. “That's what you were talking about that night at the Brownstone. You knew about Ray and Lala and you didn't tell me. What kind of friend are you?” I was screaming, becoming hysterical as pain and rage beyond depth coursed through me.
Dymond took another step and said, “You really need to calm down. You really need to understand everything, Crys.”
I waved my gun. “Stay away from me,” I said coldly.
“Don't get crazy 'cause you got that fucking gun,” Dymond said sternly.
We all stood there silent for a minute. I was waiting to hear denials, voices saying, “you wrong, girl.” Instead, I heard the murmur of the other ladies around me. I started to realize I was the only one not in the know.
“Damn, we all supposed to be girls. After what I . . . did . . . you all . . . knew . . . and . . . didn't . . .” I began heaving, barely able to get out my words. “You let me . . . talk . . . about him . . . how much I loved . . .”
Dymond interrupted me, asking, “How we going to talk rational when you literally stepping on a member of your crew? There's some shit going on that don't need to be all out in this parking lot.”
Dymond walked up to me and stood beside me. “You've got a decision to make. Make the right one.”
I stared at Lala. Her eyes were wide and speaking in a language all their own, begging and pleading with me to let her go. Yeah, I had a decision, and at that moment, all I could think of was Lala's betrayal. My trigger finger was itching. I wanted to end her life.
“Please make the right decision, Crys. Don't make the situation worse than it already is.”
It was the voice of reason, and I could barely hear it. My mind was so full of thoughts and pain that I felt myself falling into a void, a deep dark place from which I knew there would be no return. I still stared at Lala. Her eyes were still wide and pleading. Yeah, I had a decision, and at that moment, all I could think was Lala's betrayal. But instead of raining bullets, I began crying a river.
“You supposed to be my sister, Lala, we have been down with each other through thick and thin, and you fuck my man!” I sobbed.
Dymond took the gun out of my hand and I put my hands up to my face, trying to hold back my tears. I took my foot off Lala's chest and backed away from her. She rolled away from me, coughing and gasping. I heard her say, “Crystal, I'm so sorry. I can explain.”
“I don't want to hear anything from you!” I screamed hysterically. “What explanation can you possibly have? You fucking ripped out my heart, you skanky bitch. I will never forgive you.” I turned my attention to the other ladies standing in the parking lot. “You all knew that Lala had been with my man and you didn't say anything! You've all betrayed me! All of you!”
The tears came quickly, and I yelled out as the pain poured out of my soul. Dymond reached for me and held me as I cried. I turned around and looked at Lala. She was on the ground, lying there looking pitiful. “You need to thank God I care more about my own life than yours. I fucking hate you. But know this, I don't ever want to see you again.”
I pulled myself away from Dymond and walked slowly to my Ninja. I didn't look back. I felt like it was the end of the world. I wiped my eyes and put on my helmet, ignoring Dymond's pleas for me to come back. If I stayed there, I didn't know where my pain would take me. I had to get on the road.
I revved up the engine and rode out of the parking lot, turning right onto Livingston headed east. The rain began to pick up. I sped along, picking up my pace. I couldn't let the wetness in the air or in my eyes stop me.
A light turned yellow in front of me and I stopped. I began thinking of Ray again. His face appeared before me. He was smiling and laughing. He told me he loved me. At that moment, I wanted to tell him I loved him back, but I couldn't speak. I was so deep in thought that I never heard the car screeching behind me. I never heard the horn blaring, warning me to get out of the way. As the lights in my world began to dim, all I heard were Ray's words, telling me he loved me over and over again.

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