In The Cut (13 page)

“Shit!” Olivia said. She sighed when she saw that it was her brother and his partner.

“Olivia what’s going on?” he asked, ready to put some work in, himself.

“I’m going to kill Jon-Jon.”

“Jon-Jon did this?”

“He’s the cause of it.”

Mike got on his radio. “79 to base. Situation all clear.”

“Copy that,” the dispatcher said.

“Chuck, you and Jordan, take her to the back,” Olivia said, pointing to Lynise.

Mike watched as the two men lifted her up and carried her to the back. His partner looked at him. He shot his partner the don’t-worry-it’s-okay look. “Why don’t you go wait in the car, Gee. I got this.”

“Whatever you say, Mike.”

“Sis, you need to tell me from the beginning what happened.”

Olivia walked to the front door. She locked it and turned the open sign to closed. Everyone followed her to the back where she nudged Lynise until she came to. Everyone sat down and listened in shock as Lynise told them how Jon-Jon came up with the idea to run an escort service from her shop. Her, Renee, and Simone propositioned certain wealthy clients. The ones who they knew wouldn’t tell what they were doing.

Those that wanted the ‘complete package’ would call Jon-Jon and tell him ahead of time. He would then set up the apartment that Olivia let him stay in from time to time above the salon. Once that certain client got their haircut, manicure, or pedicure, Jon-Jon would lead them to the apartment where Lynise, Renee or Simone would be waiting.

Lynise, Renee, and Simone all swore, as God be their witness, that they weren’t going to press charges or say anything to anyone. The one truth that they did tell from the start was being students at Hunter College. They knew if this got out, they would no longer be allowed to attend. Everyone parted the way and let them walk out on their own two feet.

After they left, Olivia shared with everyone the visit that Byron had paid her, and she told them about the extortion note and pictures. Jon-Jon had took pictures of Lynise, Renee, and Simone ‘servicing’ Bryon on different occasions. Jon-Jon was trying to sell the pictures to him.

“All my years of hard work was for nothing.” Olivia said, on the verge of crying.

“I’ll go have a ‘chat’ with Byron,” Mike said.

“No, that’s exactly what he would want,” Olivia said.

“What does he want?” Glenn asked.

“He wants to sue me and make a public spectacle of me.”

“There has to be a way to reason with him,” Grace said.

“The way he was talking earlier, I don’t know if he’s open to any kind of reasoning.”

“Maybe when he cools off,” Miki said, hoping to lighten the mood.

Olivia shook her head. “No matter how you look at it, he’s going to fuck me. Whether he sues me or if he wants to deal. I would have to basically accept any deal he shoves in my face.” Olivia turned to her brother so fast he jumped. “You tell Jon-Jon to do himself a favor and don’t come anywhere near me. I swear, I will hurt that boy.”

Glenn stood up. “I gotta run.”

“Run?” Grace said. “Now?”

“Yeah, I have a lunch appointment with—”

“Cancel it. We need you here.”

“No,” Olivia said. “Go handle your business, Glenn.”

“I’ll be back at seven to pick you up,” he said to Grace.

She acted like she didn’t hear him.

Mike walked Glenn to the front door and let him out. As soon as Glenn’s feet hit the curb he flipped open his cell and hit the speed dial.

“We need to talk. Shit has hit the fan.”

“Yeah, Glenn. You can tell me all about it tomorrow,” Saint sighed.

“There might not be a tomorrow for Butta Cutz.”

Chapter 8

For the past two days, Jon-Jon had been staying with his man Ira. His brothers were blowing his cell phone up, leaving all kinds of messages to get in touch with them as soon as possible. Jon-Jon wasn’t up to facing them or Olivia. He’d fucked up.

I should’ve stayed with the white motherfuckers
, he thought to himself.
They just coughed the money up. It’s always a black motherfucker that got to throw a monkey wrench in the program and fuck shit up
.

Jon-Jon took one more drag off his cigarette before flicking it onto the sidewalk before heading into Ira’s apartment building. Although Ira worked the midnight shift, and wouldn’t be home right now, Jon-Jon still respected his no smoking rule.

On his way up the stairs, his cell rang. He looked at the caller ID. He didn’t recognize the number, which meant it was probably one of his brothers calling from someone else’s phone. He tucked his cell back in his jacket and pulled out the apartment keys. He knew he couldn’t avoid the family forever. He just needed some time to think on how he was going to take care of Mr. Byron Turner. He unlocked the door and stepped in. The apartment was in total darkness, which wasn’t unusual, it was just after midnight and Ira always turned off all the lights when he left for work. What was unusual was when he hit the light switch nothing happened.

“You’re a hard man to track down,” A voice said in the darkness.

Jon-Jon reached for his gun. He felt it snatched out of his waistband a fraction of a second before his hand got there, causing him to grab nothing but air. He threw a punch at the figure in front of him. The figure moved like a phantom.

Jon-Jon gasped as a hand wrapped around his neck, while the other pinned him against the wall. The figure’s face came into view when he stepped into the light coming through the window from the street lamp.

When Jon-Jon saw his face, he started struggling. There was no way he was going to let a nerd-ass, bean counter rough him up.

Saint took a step back and threw a straight jab to the right side of Jon-Jon’s chest, just inside his right shoulder. Jon-Jon stumbled sideways from the impact. The pain was so intense, he stopped breathing.

“You fucked up one time this week, let’s not make it twice. Give me the disk with the pictures of all the clients you’ve been setting up.”

“I don’t’ know what you’re talking about.”

Saint delivered another knock out blow, this one aimed at the same point on his left side.

“My arms!” Jon-Jon screamed, panicking. “I can’t feel my arms!”

“Waste anymore of my time, and you won’t feel your legs either.”

“Who are you? You ain’t no accountant.”

“Disks, where are they?” Saint swept Jon-Jon’s feet from under him. When he fell flat on his ass, Saint rested his heel on Jon-Jon’s leg socket.

“Okay, okay. In the back room, in the Timberland box.”

Saint dragged him to the room and shoved him into the corner. He saw the box next to the bed. He picked it up and carried it to the desk and opened Jon-Jon’s lap top. He checked both disks and nodded. “These are the originals?”

Jon-Jon nodded.

“And you don’t have anymore?”

Jon-Jon shook his head. “That’s it.”

“Three things,” Saint said as he prepared to leave. “I’m going to clean up the mess you got your sister in, so if you got any stupid ideas of doing anything to Byron forget about it. Number two, if I find out that you’re lying to me, I will paralyze you permanently. And number three, get your life together.” Saint stuffed the disks in his jacket and took off, just as silently as he came.

“Jerry,” Byron said to the guy on the other end of his cell phone. “Trust me on this one. This investment with
Double Platinum
records is going to pay you triple what you’re putting in.” Byron walked into the office building in Long Island City, where his office was located on the fifth floor. “Have I ever failed you before? You damn right I never have, and I’m not going to start now.” He pressed the elevator button.

Five minutes later, he was on his floor, working on another deal on his cell phone. He stopped in his tracks.

“I’m going to have to call you back,” he said to the person on the other end of the line. He looked at his secretary like he was going to fire her.

“Mr. Turner—”

Byron quickly cut her off with a huff. “What are you doing here?” he asked Olivia.

“You’re not returning my phone calls, your secretary refuses to tell me when you’re in. It’s like you’re avoiding me.”

“It’s not
like
I’m avoiding you. I am. Anything you have to say, tell it to your lawyer and have him relay it to mine.” He spun on her and headed to his office.

“Byron… please,” Olivia called after him.

He turned and looked at her like she was an annoying gnat. Then he looked at his secretary. “Hold all my calls. Miss Martin and I have some business to discuss.”

“Yes, Mr. Turner.”

Byron cut his eyes at Olivia and walked toward his office. Olivia followed him in and started to sit down, but he stopped her.

“Don’t, you’re not going to be here for long.”

Olivia folded her arms and stared at him, as he folded his and slowly circled her.

“All I wanted to do was work with you, make us a lot of money. That’s what I do. I make plenty money.”

“Byron—”

“Shut… the fuck… up!” he snapped.

“You’re in my world, now. You have no say. All you do is listen, and if you want any kind of life, you will do exactly as I say. Am I clear?”

Olivia was so hot with anger that her face was glowing. “I’m listening.”

Byron stopped circling her and placed his hands behind his back as he dramatically walked to his office window and looked out. Without looking back at her he spoke. “What did you think you could gain by trying to black mail me?”

“I had no idea this was going on.”

“The girls work at your salon, fuck clients in your apartments, and you had no idea it was going on?”

“I’m sitting on a gold mine, Byron. You know that. The last thing I would want to do is run a prostitution ring out of it.”

“What does your husband think about all this?”

Olivia was about to tell him the truth about the whole Clayton situation, but something told her that he would somehow try and use it against her. “We’re not speaking to each other right now.”

“Does he know that you’re here, now?”

“No.”

“Seems to me that he doesn’t’ care what happens to you.” Olivia didn’t say anything.

“Funny thing is, I do.” Byron finally turned around to face her. “When I look at you, I see money, and I like money.” He walked up on her. “But I also see someone who tried to
fuck me
, that… I don’t like.” He let his eyes freely roam over her before looking into her eyes. “Do you know where Nell’s is?”

“It’s on 14
^th
street.”

“That’s where we’ll be eating tomorrow night.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Olivia said in a seething tone.

“I’ll make it real easy for you to understand. I get on the phone, call my people at the Daily News and New York Post, they will print whatever I tell them to. Then I call my very close friend who plays golf with the police commissioner. The police will shut your spot down and arrest everyone and charge them with promoting prostitution.” He got right up in her face. “The only hair you’ll be cutting is the hair off of Big Bertha’s back in the prison bath hall.”

Olivia took a step back. She tried her best to will her forming tears not to fall, but one did. She quickly turned away from him, but he grabbed her by the chin and made her face him.

“Not so tough after all.”

Olivia slapped his hand down and turned to leave. “Tomorrow night, eight o’clock, and don’t keep me waiting.”

Olivia stormed out of his office. Her knees were threatening to give out on her and her stomach was shouting for her to find the nearest bathroom to throw up. Her mind was going in so many directions at once that she didn’t see the man standing in her path. She bumped into him, knocking his newspaper to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” she said, starting to bend down to pick it up.

The man stopped her. “Don’t worry about it, Miss—”

“Martin,” Olivia said looking into his hazel eyes.

The man bent down and picked up his paper. “My name’s Dr. Whitman, please to meet you.” He stood about six feet. He wore a three-piece suit, and his shoulder-length dreds came down on either side of his face.

“I’m kind of nervous. Got a big meeting with Mr. Turner,” he said sheepishly.

Hearing Byron’s name reminded Olivia that she needed to hurry and look for that bathroom. Without another word she took off.

Dr. Whitman watched her disappear around the corner, and then shrugged his shoulders.

“Mr. Turner will see you now, Dr. Whitman,” the secretary said, hanging up her phone.

Olivia put her finger in her ears as three of her brothers, Baby, Esther, Grace, Miki, Chuck, and Jordan all argued back and forth. The only thing they agreed on was that there wasn’t going to be any compromising with Byron. The girls wanted to call up some people that they knew at the newspapers and magazines and run counter articles to whatever Byron may be putting out. The men couldn’t decide if they should kill him fast or kill him slow. Mike already paid Lynise, Renee, and Simone a visit. After his long talk with them, there was no one in the universe who could force a confession out of them. What they did in those apartments would be taken to their graves.