Luxe (6 page)

Rushing from room to room, he searched through the entire house until he stumbled upon two shoe boxes, tucked away in the top of a closet. Popping the tops, he realized what he had found. A half a brick of heroin sat neatly inside one of them, and the other was boxful of money. His heart raced and his eyes widened as he realized he had found Keon's stash. Noah scooped up both boxes and took one last look at Keon before stepping over his body and walking calmly out of the house. In case any prying eyes were watching, he didn't want to be the nigga rushing from the scene of the crime. He was grateful for the dark of night as he flipped his hood over his head and made his way to his car. He pulled off with mixed emotions. He was remorseful, feeling like scum for pulling the trigger, but he knew that when he weighed Keon against Bleu she would always win. Riding for her was a no-brainer. It was a sin Noah had committed on her behalf in order to keep her safe, but he knew that Keon's death wouldn't stop the bounty. Another shooter would simply step up to the plate. Noah couldn't gun down an entire city; instead he would have to keep Bleu hidden until he could get her on her way to Cali. It was the only way to keep her safe. Now their good-bye was inevitable, but he would rather care for her her from afar and know that she was safe than selfishly put her at risk. Love was a bitch and so was karma; he only hoped this murder wouldn't come back on him in the worst way.

 

4

The incessant banging on the door woke Bleu out of her sleep, but as she opened her eyes it felt as if she were living in a dreamworld. The medication that she was on did little to numb her pain. The wound that had been left behind was so gruesome that she was afraid to look down at it. Despite the fact that it didn't work, she was still grateful for the medication because it made her sleep. As long as she was unconscious, she couldn't feel the pain, but someone was interrupting that, dragging her into a wakeful state and forcing her to feel. She rolled over onto her side and put her weight on her elbows as she breathed deeply, gritting her teeth before she pushed herself up off the bed. The room seemed to tilt, making her feel unsteady on her feet.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“Wait a minute!” she shouted in frustration as she placed her hands along the wall. She was floating. After doubling her prescription she was kite high. It felt like she was walking on clouds as her feet sank into the plush carpet. By the time she made it to the front door of the apartment she was panting and had worked up a slight sweat. It was as if she had just run a marathon. Her body needed rest. She was overdoing it, trying to force herself to get better before she actually was. If money hadn't been a factor she would still be recovering in the secure wings of a hospital. She looked out of the peephole and frowned in confusion.

“Larry?” she asked. She stepped back and shook her head, thinking that perhaps she was higher than she thought.

“Bleu, it's me. Open the door,” he said.

She stood on her tiptoes and peered through the peephole again, confused. He hadn't called her that since the night he had raped her, and hearing it now instantly brought tears to her eyes. She then turned her head and looked across the room to the clock.
It's close to midnight; what is he doing here?
she thought.

She opened the door slightly, giving him just enough room to see her eyes.

“Larry? What are you—”

Before the question could leave her mouth Larry fell, as a silenced bullet crashed through his temple. She felt a forceful push as someone rammed his shoulder against the door. She jumped back as the door's security lock at the top stopped the door from opening completely. She backpedaled slightly, tripping over her own feet as she cursed herself for taking a double dose of medicine. She was incapacitated physically and mentally. As she stumbled to make her way back into Noah's bedroom, the chain gave way to the force on the other side. Pure panic invaded her as she saw the goon rush into the house. She tried to run, but her legs were so heavy that she clumsily fell to the floor, rocking her entire world when she made impact.

She roared as agony took over her body. Bleu scrambled to stand but knew that she had no wins in her current state.

“Keep your ass down there, bitch!” the intruder barked as he leveled her with a sharp kick to the abdomen.

She yelled out, completely broken, as her entire body quaked in torment. She had barely survived the gunshot wound. This attack would surely kill her. The pain alone would send her to her maker. It was like an earthquake, splitting her in two as the pain radiated through her entire body. She was too vulnerable to defend herself. She couldn't run or fight back and she curled into a fetal ball, trying to shield herself from the blows.

The man towered over her and flipped her over onto her back, causing their eyes to meet. “Any last words, bitch, before I send you to your maker?”

She nodded, frantic, as tears built in her eyes. She opened her mouth and replied, “You'll beat me there.”

A look of confusion crossed the goon's face.

The bullet that Noah sent through the back of his skull ended him, and his body dropped to the floor. Deadweight. If Noah had shown up even a minute later … the thought alone made him shudder.

“B,” Noah whispered as he rushed to pick Bleu up from the floor. She crumbled like the fragile girl she was, her tears free-flowing as he cradled her in his arms. He picked her up with urgency and rushed her to his room.

“Lock the door, Bleu. Don't come out until I tell you to, you understand?” he asked.

The look in his eye scared her, but she nodded her head in obedience. “Larry … he shot him … he's … he's … dead,” she cried out of shock more than sympathy. She had wished death on him for years and, finally, someone had come to serve Larry's karma.

“Fuck Larry. He brought that nigga here, Bleu. Don't cry for him,” Noah said before disappearing down the hall and closing the door behind him.

*   *   *

Overwhelmed, Noah sent his fist through the wall, damn near breaking his knuckles, and pulled it back. He placed the palms of his hands against the wall and breathed heavily as he bowed his head. He had started his day as a young hustler just trying to make a dollar and had ended it with two bodies on his street résumé. He knew that murder and money went hand in hand. He had to be ready for this, but it didn't make it easier. He was selling his soul to protect one girl, but she was worth it. Noah shook his bleeding hand as he pulled out his cell phone with the other. He was about to make a call that he had said he never would. Drastic times called for drastic measures, however.

Khadafi Langston was Noah's father. He had never seen the man or even spoken to him before, but Noah's mother ensured that Noah knew his father's name. Noah had looked up the number almost a year ago and had never used it. His father had never been in Noah's life; he didn't even know if the man knew he had a son. The affair with Noah's mother had been a one-night stand, a casual fling, but the birth of Noah Langston was the result. As chance would have it, hustling was in his blood. Khadafi was the biggest kingpin Flint, Michigan, had ever seen, and Noah was about to call him for the first time. Noah wasn't dumb. He knew that he couldn't get rid of the two bodies that were lying in the middle of his living room. That required resources … a professional, and there was only one man Noah could reach out to. Just as he was about to press dial, police sirens rang out in the distance.

“Noah!” Bleu called in distress as she suddenly snatched open the bedroom door. “The police are coming up,” she said, frightened.

Noah never got to make his call, as his brain went into overdrive. He rushed to Bleu and cradled her face while staring her in the eyes. “We have to get our story straight and we don't have a lot of time to do it.”

“He came to the door with Larry.… He … he … he killed him and then muscled his way inside the door. I th-thought I was g-g-oing to die,” she stuttered.

“I came in and surprised him from behind as he held you at gunpoint. We tussled and I knocked the gun out of his hand, but he had another gun in his waistline. He pulled it on me and then you scrambled for the first gun and shot him in the back of the head. You feared for your life and you thought he was going to kill me. You understand? He brought both of these guns here. These belong to him. A'ight?”

She nodded her head in panic as she went over the details in her head. Noah hoped that she had it down, because one of those guns had two bodies on it and he could go away for life if anyone connected the dots of what had really occurred that night. He picked up the gun and placed it in Bleu's hands and told her to pull the trigger.

“You need residue on your hands,” he explained quickly as she shook uncontrollably.

“I'm scared,” Bleu admitted as tears fell.

“I know … I know, B. I got you,” he whispered.

At that moment four armed police officers infiltrated the apartment, guns drawn, aiming from Bleu to Noah, trying to assess the situation at first glance.

“Show me your hands! Put the gun down!” they yelled.

Bleu lifted her hands and let the gun fall to the floor with a clang.

“Get on your knees!”

Noah got on his knees with his hands planted firmly behind his head. He had seen the routine enough times to know how to not get shot. “She can't get on the ground. She's been shot. She's the victim in that store robbery that happened about a month ago!” Noah yelled.

“Please, I was just released from the hospital today,” she whispered.

She trembled like prey as a female officer approached her. “Place your wrists in front of you, dear. We don't know what happened here, but we still have to cuff you. I'll be gentle,” the woman said.

“I … I shot him,” Bleu whispered. “I thought he was going to kill me.”

The female officer lowered her voice, whispering, “Sweetheart, I don't know what happened here, but you don't say one word without a lawyer, okay?”

Bleu nodded her head as she was escorted out into the night. Every resident who lived in Black Wall Street seemed to be out as the police walked her to the squad car. Life moved in slow motion as she met the eyes of the neighbors. It felt like she was taking the long walk of shame, and as the officers stuffed her in the back of police car, she saw the officers escorting Noah out. It hit her. He had saved her life. If it were not for him, she would be the one the coroner would be tagging. She stared at Noah through the window with tear-filled eyes and mouthed,
I love you.
A simple nod was his only reply as the car started and pulled away.

 

5

“I'm looking at five years, Bleu,” Noah said as he gripped the phone and stared at Bleu through the thick glass that separated them.

Her heart broke when she heard the news, and pools of emotion immediately gathered beneath her lashes. “But how? I told them what happened. They let me go! Why are you still in here?” she asked desperately.

“I had a brick of heroin on me that night. They don't even want to pin the bodies on me. They're concerned about the dope. If I fight it I could get life, Bleu. I can do a quick five and be out. I'm going to take the plea,” Noah replied, trying to sound as if this entire plan were okay.

“Noah,” Bleu whispered, heartbroken, as she placed her hand against the glass. “I'll wait for you. What you did for me, the way you look at me … I finally see it. I love you and I'm going to wait for you, no matter how long it takes,” she promised.

Noah grimaced as he sniffed loudly, trying to contain his emotions. He had wanted to hear her say this for years. He had been in love with this one girl since it was innocent enough to be just a crush. She mattered most to him, and as he stared into her beauty, he was mesmerized. She wasn't overly sexy, but she was just his type. Brown skin, shoulder-length hair that fell in messy curls around her face, hips wide, waist slim, and a smile uniquely hers. A small gap rested between her two front teeth, just big enough to notice. Bleu hated it, but like a mole was to a model, it was more a gift than a curse. Her body more dangerous than the curves of a racer's path, he had enjoyed watching her walk away from him so many times before. Today, however, he dreaded it, because he knew that it would be the last time. He just stared at her, gripping the phone as he tried to paint a picture of her beautiful face in his head. He knew that he couldn't keep her. There was still a bounty on her head. She was like a walking money bag. Anyone with a thirst for some quick cash would try to off her. With Noah locked up, she would have no protection. She would be a sheep among wolves. Every gun in the city would be at her head until she was dead. She couldn't stick around and wait for him, but he knew if he told her the truth … if he told her that he loved her more than the air in his lungs … that he saw his future in her … that besides money she was the only thing that occupied his thoughts … if he told her these truths, she would stay regardless. He had to lie to get rid of her.

“Don't wait for me,” he responded.

She frowned in confusion. “What? What are you saying to me, Noah?”

“I'm in here because of you. You brought that heat to my crib and now I'm doing a bid behind it. You Hollywood, right? That was your dream? You're off to sunny California, and I'll be rotting away behind concrete and steel bars. You've overstayed your welcome, B. I should have never taken on your burdens. Maybe you should just catch that bus to the West Coast,” he said without flinching, showing no emotion.

She blinked in confusion as her mouth fell open, flabbergasted by his rejection.

He saw her feelings fold as a hint of heartbreak reflected in her eyes, and it ate away at him that he had caused it.

“Noah—”

“Just go, Bleu! Damn!” he interrupted. “High school is over. It's time we went our separate ways.” He got to his feet and slammed the phone down. He didn't even turn around to give her one last glance before he disappeared out of her sight.