Relapse: A Novel (21 page)

Willabee came in between them. “Please don’t do this here. I’m begging you, Beijing.”

“Why you gotta say something to me all the time, when I ain’t stole a goddamn thing!” Beijing asked her mother.

“Watch yo’ mouth, I’m talking to you because you are the only sensible one,” Willabee answered her daughter.

“’Cause she don’t want me to whip your ass in here, bitch,” Paris said, sounding more like a boxer at a press conference, than a crackhead.

“Whip my ass?” Beijing pointed around her mother, trying to reach Paris. “I’d like to know how you intend to do that. When you a junkie who probably ain’t even ate ’cause you jonesing.”

“Beijing. Please Beijing.” Willabee was trying to keep the punches from flying.

“You right, Momma, I wouldn’t even fight this trifling-ass bitch. What would I look like fighting a stone-cold druggie bitch? I’ve got the upper hand, simply because I eat three meals a day and I drink milk. The only thing this bitch done had to drink is cum!”

“No you didn’t. Meet me outside.” Paris started taking off her earrings.

“No problem, crackhead, but not until you come back from rehab. I wanna beat yo’ ass fair and square.”

“Beijing! Beijing! Beijing!” Willabee looked at her with the evil eye, surprised that Beijing was even entertaining Paris’s bullshit.

“You better get yo’ daughter, Momma, before I treat her like a bitch in the streets,” Paris said, adding fuel to the already burning house.

Two friends of Willabee’s helped to keep the girls apart.

“Beijing, you know better,” said Sharon, Willabee’s friend.

After Beijing had calmed down, she decided to leave—but not before going into Willabee’s room and putting a check on Willabee’s dresser.

On her way out, she stuck a finger in Paris’s face and said, “God don’t like ugly and anybody who can rob a fucking kid ain’t shit and damn sure ain’t gonna have no good luck! May God have mercy on your soul when it comes back to you!”

The next day when Beijing’s flight touched down in Atlanta, Don sent a car to pick her up and take her back to the mansion, since he was busy at rehearsal. To her surprise Don had given her the master suite; he had selected one of the smaller bedrooms for himself.

After taking a shower, changing clothes, and putting her things away, she looked around the place. Don had clearly finally cleaned up his act. He was back to the Don she’d known and loved at one time. She was so glad. She couldn’t understand how someone with so much talent could throw his life away the way Don almost did.

She had set up a meeting with Lamont Rowe that evening, but she was supposed to have dinner with Don before. Then Don called and threw a monkey wrench into their plans, telling her things were running a little longer at the studio than he had anticipated and that he would probably make it in by ten or eleven.
It was only six now, and Beijing was growing hungry. She wanted to get out and see the town.

She decided to call Rayna, who was supposed to be in Atlanta for a few days chilling out with York. Maybe she could get out from under him for a few hours and hang out with Beijing. Beijing hit the button to speed-dial her girlfriend’s number.

The phone rang three times.

“Hey bitch, what’s up?” Rayna answered, glad to hear from her girlfriend.

“I’m in Atlanta,” Beijing said, sighing. “Tell me you’re still down here.”

“So you did make it down to see that dope fiend rehab going muthafucka,” she said. “Yeah I’m in the A.”

“Then what it do, girl. I’m in this big-ass mansion the record company has Don staying in and I’m bored to death. I would’ve stayed in Charlotte if I wanted to be by myself.”

“I know that’s right, girl,” Rayna agreed. “Where’s that dust-head fiend of yours anyway? Only he would invite a muthafucka to come in town to visit him and not be home to greet them.”

“Don,” Beijing said, ignoring Rayna’s dig, “is in rehearsal. He sent a car to scoop me from the airport, but it’s going to be a while before he’s home.”

“Say no more. I mean, we still celebrating your birthday and all, right? You can’t stay there alone. Give me the address and I’ll be by to grab you,” Rayna said. “We can go out for something to eat. It’ll be a belated birthday dinner. Just you and me.”

“You don’t have to twist my arm, girl.” Beijing rattled off the address, and asked, “How long before you show?”

Rayna was pushing the coordinates into the navigational system. “According to the Tom-Tom—” She paused for a moment to allow the machine to calculate. “—seventeen minutes.”

“Wonderful, darling, I’ll be waiting out front,” Beijing declared before hanging up to get ready.

Rayna arrived right on schedule. Beijing was slipping out of
the mansion when her friend pulled up in a midnight-blue Benz 600.

“This shit is plush, girl,” Beijing gushed, getting into the luxury vehicle. “I thought you like to keep it plain Jane?” She looked at Rayna with a shocked expression.

“I do,” she admitted. “York got this for me.” Then she lowered her voice in a conspiracy whisper as if someone else were in earshot. “This bitch does ride sweet, tho.” They both erupted with laughter, giving each other high fives.

They ended up at a trendy, upscale steak house in Buckhead. Valet parking, nicely dressed waiters wearing black shirts and pants with a white stripe down each leg, capped off with a fancy red jacket with gold buttons.

“Smoking or nonsmoking?” a gorgeous female attendant asked.

“Nonsmoking, please.” Rayna took the lead, following the hostess to their seats.

After directing them to a cozy table, she said, “Your waiter will be here to greet you shortly. Here are your menus.”

“Thank you,” both Rayna and Beijing sang in unison.

Before the attendant was out of earshot, Rayna squealed with wide eyes, “Did you see the ass on that bitch? I bet she used to be a stripper. I can tell by the way she struts.”

“You don’t know that girl from a ham sandwich,” Beijing playfully said from over the top of her menu.

“Believe me when I tell you,” Rayna insisted, “if that child ain’t never worked a pole you can best believe it’s in her future.”

“You are terrible.”

“Maybe so, but I know what I know.”

“Let’s just order, girl.” Beijing shook her head with a smile.

“Whatever. Don’t get mad at me because I know the business.”

“Aight, Madame Adult Sex trade,” Beijing joked.

They both decided on the eight-ounce steak cooked medium
well, and broiled butterfly shrimp with a baked potato. Rayna ordered an apple martini while Beijing sipped on a glass of pinot noir. The food was delivered quickly, and it looked delicious.

For the next twenty minutes there was nominal chitchat and an abundance of chewing. The food was even better than it looked. The steak was tender enough to cut with a fork, and the shrimp tasted like it had been pulled from the ocean minutes before they ordered. Both dishes were prepared by either a master chef or a magician.

Beijing was musing on how thoughtful Rayna had been to bring her to a fabulous restaurant to celebrate her birthday until she heard Rayna ask, “You got the check?” Beijing was patting her slightly protruding stomach.

“Excuse me? You would really make me pay on my birthday?” Beijing exclaimed incredulously.

“Well, technically … it’s not your birthday,” Rayna said after wiping her mouth with a cloth napkin. “It’s not your birthday today.”

Beijing rolled her eyes and smacked her lips. “Bitch, you’re scandalous.” She was not really surprised. After all, this was Rayna, who was as tight with a dollar as the hinges on the gates of hell.

“You are right,” she admitted with a slight laugh. “But goddamn, I ain’t balling like you. I don’t have filthy-rich clients that give me big tips or a paid-out-the-ass rich boyfriend like you.”

“Rich boyfriend?” Beijing questioned. “The last time I checked, my bed was empty.”

“Oh, he’ll be back,” Rayna assured, picking up Beijing’s glass and drinking down the last bit of wine.

After splitting the tab, Beijing fished her cell phone from her Jimmy Choo purse.

“Girl, is that the same bag you gave me?”

“Yes, but yours is black.”

“I think I like mine better. And I feel that was the least you could do being that I afforded you the opportunity to meet Lootchee.”

“The least I could have done was nothing or just given you a simple thanks.”

“Glad you got me the bag.” Rayna laughed a bit. “And bitch, best believe I appreciate it.”

After finding the name she wanted stored in the contact section of her phone, she thumbed the button to dial. He answered on the fourth ring. “This is Monty. What’s up?”

Lamont Rowe played basketball for the Atlanta Hawks. This was his fourth year on the roster, and he’d just received a sixty-million-dollar contract.

“Good evening, Lamont.” She spoke in a professional manner. “This is Beijing Lee, how are you today?”

Lamont Rowe was six foot three; his skin was the color of hot coffee with barely a thimble of milk and a smile that belonged on a toothpaste commercial. The brother was fine and married.

“I can’t complain.” She imagined him smiling. “Even if I did it wouldn’t change a damn thing.”

“Depends on who you are doing your complaining to, Lamont.” Beijing steered the conversation back to business. “Are you still available to meet this evening?”

“Just tell me when and where.”

Rayna was sitting across from Beijing trying to figure out who this Lamont cat was that Beijing was talking about meeting somewhere. The suspense was eating at her.

Beijing was looking at her watch. “How about at the Velvet Rope in … let’s say about an hour.”

Lamont agreed.

“Who the fuck is Lamont?” Rayna blurted out as Beijing disconnected the call.

“My business,” Beijing playfully taunted her, “and none of yours.”

“Come on, B?” Rayna begged. “I thought we were girls.”

“He’s just a client, so get your panties out your ass. I’m supposed to get a few girls for his boy’s bachelor party. Maybe you can use your Madame Sex Trade eye and pick me out a couple of the must-book-hers.”

After answering a few more of Rayna’s who, what, and wheres, Beijing invited her friend to come along if she wanted, since Rayna was driving anyway.

The Velvet Rope was the newest, biggest, hottest strip club in Atlanta. Both males and females partied there. The dudes flexed by throwing money at some of the most accessible beautiful bodies in the city, and the women came there to meet and see which of the fellas had the money to burn.

“Damn right I’m going.” Rayna smiled devilishly.

$  $  $

Inside, the club lived up to all the hype and street promotion that it was getting all over the city. The place was huge and tastefully adorned. There was one main stage and six smaller stages with three crystal poles and four enormous bar stations. Most of the walls were mirrored, giving the downstairs area the illusion that it was even larger than its already enormous size.

Girls of different nationalities worked each of the stages. They all had great bodies, Beijing noticed. She smiled thinking of how her girl Dazzle would put them all to bed on a bad day.

Beijing was still evaluating the broad selection of eye candy when Lamont got her attention from across the room by sending the waitress over to tell her where he was sitting.

Beijing sashayed across the club with the grace of a runway model. “Sorry I’m late.”

“I’m just getting here myself,” he confided. “Please”—he pointed to the vacant booth—“have a seat.”

She smiled as she made herself comfortable. It was hard to keep her mind on business; seeing Lamont’s diamond-and-platinum
wedding band made her think about Lootchee, but she redirected her focus back on the matter at hand.

“Let me see if I have this straight,” Beijing said to Lamont. “You want the presidential suite at the Tabby here in Atlanta. The actual party is scheduled for eight hours give or take.” She smiled before continuing. “It’s conceivable and doable to have at least four fresh dancers arrive to the room every hour. And of course they will have their own private rooms on the floor for the duration of the party for any ‘extra’ celebrating that may arise.” She added, “Tips for the ladies are not included in the fee.”

“What about refreshments, food and drinks?” Lamont asked her.

“It’ll all be catered by the hotel.”

Lamont was throwing a party for his first cousin and had invited the whole team, plus some other family and friends. His friends were going to be talking about this party for years to come; the memories would probably outlast the marriage. It was definitely worth the hundred grand.

“Then I’m happy to be doing business with you, Beijing.”

They shook hands, closing the deal.

Beijing stood up from the booth, allowing her eyes to walk the club in search of Rayna. There she was in the middle of two well-dressed guys. She had a drink in her hand and a smile on her face. The girl knew how to have a good time.

Beijing was about to dip in her friend’s mix for a second when somebody grabbed her elbow from behind.