Riding Dirty on I-95 (32 page)

“Look, baby,” Cleezy said, releasing her and looking in her eyes. “This is how it's got to go down. Both of us can't be on I-95. If anybody is going to get their hands dirty, it's going to be me. Not you. You have a dream, you have a career, a way out. That's what I need you to focus on, your craft. Your talent. I need you to be legit—if not for you, then for us.”

“I know, but I-95 has been my only means of survival for so long. I finally thought I was going to be able to leave that life behind me when I hooked up with Tallya, but then when she did that shit to me, I had no choice.”

“I feel you, but peace this, you throwing in the towel.” She
tried to speak, but he cut her off. “You got me now, and I'm going to make sho' you a'ight. That's on everything I love,” Cleezy said sincerely.

Mercy didn't know what to think. Everything Cleezy said sounded good. She felt the chemistry—she knew there was something there—but was it enough for her to cut off the hand that was feeding her, the hand that had seemed to come swoop her up just when she was about to fall? She really didn't want to break off the relationship with Hyena. Although her work was done, she had been waiting around to see if she could pick up another job on the way back. But instead she called Hyena right there in front of Cleezy. She told him that she had a family emergency and had to go back home so that the meeting had to be canceled. After Mercy hung up with Hyena she flopped down on the bed, not knowing what her next move would be, realizing that she had taken her fate out of the hands of one man only to give it to yet another. It seemed to be a cycle Mercy had no control over.

“Look, I want you to focus on your new movie and continue to create larger-than-life scripts, a'ight,” Cleezy said. “The public loves you, and you have to be able to be in the public eye.”

“Without a doubt, I am going to always write, but I'm not going to be in the public eye no more.”

“Why?”

She didn't answer at first, but then Cleezy gave her a look and reminded her to “keep it real.”

“Because I'm just not what people are expecting. I mean, look at me. Do I look like the success story everybody kept hearing about at first? Look at me. I mean really look at me. I'm too damn fat to be on anybody's red carpet, and image is everything,” Mercy admitted.

Cleezy looked her up and down for a minute. Yeah, she was thick, but for some reason, until she'd pointed it out, he had never
thought twice about it. She was phat but not fat, and very sexy to him. It didn't matter to him. “Well, we gotta get a trainer then, and we'll work out together. Me drinking and eating good got me getting a little pudgy.” He patted his stomach.

“I been damn near working out for years and it don't work. I need a quick fix.”

“Like what?”

“I need some plastic surgery.”

“I don't really agree with that mess. That's white people's shit.”

“Well, I do, and that's what I want.”

“Look, I don't want you cutting on yourself.” He took her hands and continued. “You cool just the way you are, and for real, don't nobody want no skinny broad.”

“I ain't trying to be skinny. I just want to be happy with my body and my weight. I have been struggling with my weight for so long.”

“I understand.”

“Really, do you?”

“Yeah, I do. Are you sure this is going to make you happy, though?”

“Yes, I am really, really sure. A flat stomach and a small waist would be great for my self-image.”

“A'ight, well, we'll make an appointment and see what the doctor is talking about.”

Mercy was shocked. “Are you serious?”

“Why not?”

“But I told you I ain't got no money for that. The money I have is for paying my bills.”

“Don't worry. Didn't I tell you I got you? I got that. I'm serious, Mercy. I ain't about talk. I'm a man who knows what he wants off the bat. I don't have to go through all the pleasantries of dating and all that bullshit. I just know.”

“You just know, huh?” Mercy said, feeling good as she heard the sincerity in Cleezy's voice.

“Yeah. And if this is going to make my baby happy and help enhance your image, then it's done. Look, don't worry about the money—just focus on your career.”

Although Cleezy had never been the type to take care of any woman besides his scandalous mother, he was willing to have Mercy's back without a doubt.

“Okay,” she agreed, and gave Cleezy a hug. “Just promise me something: Don't leave me.”

“Just don't ever cross me.”

W
hen Mercy and Cleezy returned to Richmond they found themselves in a whirlwind romance. When Cleezy wasn't grindin', he was taking Mercy out to the movies. This might not have been a big deal for most, but Cleezy wasn't the “going out to the movies” type of guy. If he wanted to watch a flick, he just copped the movie bootleg; but the first time he went out and bought a bootleg DVD Mercy clowned. After breaking it down to him how she felt about someone else making money off of something she put her blood, sweat, and tears into while she didn't see a penny of the profit, he had a new opinion about buying bootleg shit. He simply didn't do it. Other than that little incident, Cleezy and Mercy rarely had disagreements about anything.

They never imagined that they could have so much in common. Within a month, Mercy had used all her movie contract as financial leverge to purchase a nice $500,000 spec home. Cleezy would give her the cash to buy the home outright later, so no questions would be asked about the source of the funds. That sucker was nice, too. The couple who'd originally had it custom-built ended up separating between the time the hole was dug and the time the carpet was laid. Luckily for Mercy and Cleezy, the
couple had excellent taste, and since it was a spec home, they were able to move in right away.

The 5,000-square-foot, five-level split home had two master suites, both equipped with Jacuzzis in the corner of the room. The suite that Mercy and Cleezy shared had a marble shower area that was the size of a walk-in closet. Over their bed was a five-by-eight skylight with an electric shade. Although Mercy couldn't do that much damage in the kitchen, it was full of state-of-the-art stainless-steel appliances. The main attraction was the lower-level entertainment center that had the perfect theater screen they would use one day to view Mercy's movies.

For the first time ever, Mercy truly felt like she was living the life she was supposed to. Everything seemed to happen so fast. Cleezy deliberately tried not to keep long hours in the streets, but on nights when he came in at the wee hours of the morning, Mercy didn't argue with him about it. Most arguments between drug dealers and their girls were because of the late nights, but Mercy understood that hustlers could actually be out hustling and chasing the block all night long. But Mercy hugged the block herself. It wasn't literally the drug block, but she kept late hours on her computer perfecting her craft, chasing dollars. Then there were his business trips, which she didn't care about either as long as she could reach him. After all, she did the long nights on the computer and traveled herself to promote her project. Their relationship had an easy rhythm, and the communication was on point.

Other than Cleezy leaving to make that money and her time spent working on her scripts, they spent the majority of their time with each other. They had the same tastes. They could be driving down the street and if an old hip-hop song came on the radio, they both would sing the song word for word. Their theme songs were “Sunshine” by Jay-Z and Foxy Brown, and “All I Need” by
Mary J. Blige and Method Man. When “Me and My Bitch” came on by Biggie, he sang the words to her. Sometimes people in the cars alongside them would look at them and shake their heads.

Cleezy catered to Mercy in every way. He rubbed her feet and always treated her like nothing less than a queen. Cleezy never claimed to be a huge romantic, but he would leave notes for her all the time. One morning she woke up and found a note on Cleezy's pillow that read “I'm downstairs fixing you breakfast in bed.” If they went out and Mercy picked up something to look at twice, Cleezy would often make it his business to go back and get it for her, no matter what the cost.

If there was one weak spot in the relationship, it was the sex. Mercy had a hard time relaxing around the more experienced Cleezy. It was as if now that she found true love, the sex meant more and she worried she couldn't please him. And although Cleezy couldn't have asked for a more perfect relationship, he knew that he had to do something to help Mercy get her hips and back into the sex. He ended up paying for her to go to belly dancing classes. He told her that it was in order to tighten her stomach muscles, but really he wanted her to get the rhythm and learn to move her hips the way he needed her to. The sex got better and better each time.

Mercy had found her prince, she lived in a castle, she had the career of her dreams. She and Cleezy were on their way to happily ever after.

T
hree months later, Mercy flew to Los Angeles to meet with her agent, Davey, and pick up her check. Although he had told her he would overnight the check from the movie company to her, she was so excited to finally get her first huge check that she flew to LA to pick it up and to thank her agent in person. Not only did her agent give her a check, but he also gave her the date when her next movie would be shown on the big screen. Unlike her first, Mercy wouldn't be directing this film, and she was thankful for that. Directing had been fun, but she didn't want to take all that time away from Cleezy or from her writing. However, it was written in her contract that they would call her in as a consultant and she would get an associate producer credit. Davey explained to her that whatever she had experienced with Bermuda Triangle, that was small change and this was big-time.

“You are about to be larger than life,” Davey said. “And so is this project. You have no idea what kind of press you are about to receive.” Mercy smiled as Davey continued talking. “So you have to prepare your guest lists for your premieres. The studio needs that within the next month or so, so start thinking about that.”

“I will,” Mercy said as she sat at the table across from Davey in
a trendy LA restaurant, getting a glimpse of the paparazzi who flashed their cameras at whichever star they could spot dining.

“It's only a matter of months before they know who you are, and your life is never going to be the same.”

“You really think so?”

Davey smiled. “I know so.”

Mercy smiled from ear to ear. Davey and she had a great relationship; and from day one, he'd always been intrigued with Mercy, where she came from and her thoughts. It made Mercy feel good that he wasn't just concerned about the money she could make him, but about her as a person. As Davey slid in another comment, Mercy's smile got cut short. “You know we are going to have to really get your situation with Tallya taken care of.”

“I know.” Mercy frowned. Just hearing Tallya's name made her blood boil.

“I know she's your sister and all but—”

“You know what I just found out?” Mercy jumped in.

“What?”

“My uncle Roland, who is in the clinker—,” Mercy began, and looked at Davey.

“Unh-hunh,” he said, nodding.

“Well, I spoke to him right before I left to come out here.”

“He called you collect?”

“Davey, how the hell else you think I am going to speak to him?” she joked, because at times Davey could be so clueless about life outside of Hollywood.

“I didn't know, maybe you went to visit him or something. Anyway, continue, continue,” he said.

“Well, he told me that the bitch might not even be my real sister! That she has always been suspect from day one. My daddy was not the type to get no blood test or none of that done. He believed if he slept with a woman and she said the baby was his, then it
was. But in my heart I know that bitch ain't no sister of mine. My daddy didn't raise us up like that.”

“Well, sister, mother, or brother, she's going to have to cough up your money. I am going to have my attorney look over your contracts to see if he can find a loophole.”