Ruthless (43 page)

I had wrestled with the knowledge of Mona's husband being the one I referred to as the
Calm One
ever since I'd learned of his tattoo of a panther over his left shoulder.

For weeks, after Jasper's funeral, I played the news over and over in my head to the point I was practically obsessing over it. Then, finally, I decided to let it go. I had to. Avery had caused me no real harm. So there was no reason for me to cause him any. Ruining his marriage or destroying Mona's world, like mine had been destroyed, wasn't an option. I love her. And I didn't want to risk losing Mona's friendship.

So I had come to terms with letting it go.

And I had.

Until three days ago.

Until I pulled out my laptop and logged back into my Deep Throat Diva AOL email account, pulling up an old email from Ready2nutInU, then emailing him.
WE NEED TO TALK.
Four hours later, he replied back. I
'D HOPED WE'D NEVER NEED 2.
W
HERE
?

The next morning, at seven o'clock, we met where it all began. Mountainside Park. I slide into his SUV. And although flashes of his beautiful curved dick popped in and out of my head as I sat in the front seat looking at him, there was only one thing on my mind. “Why, Avery?”

His cologne wafted over to me. I breathed him in and watched as he fidgeted in his seat, searching for words to explain, to express, his regret for his involvement in what happened to me.

“On my family and everything else I love, Pasha, I wanted no part of that shit Jasper had planned for you. And I refused to get down with it. But, then, I was asked to be there to make sure shit didn't get crazy. To make sure none of them niggas got way out of pocket and tried no extra shit. I tried to keep you safe the best way I could, Pasha. It hurt like hell to watch them do that shit to you.”

“But you did nothing to stop it.”

“I did what I could,” he offered solemnly. “I can't say any more than that. I hope, one day, you'll be able to forgive me.”

I swallowed back the sordid memories of those nights tied up down in that basement, feeling a hole being slowly eaten in the pit of my stomach. Still, I had to be honest; if not for him, for myself. “There's nothing to forgive, Avery. I wanted to be mad at you. I swear I did. Wanted to hate you like I hated all the rest. But I couldn't. And I still can't. Because, as crazy as this sounds, you were the only one giving me hope that I'd get out of there alive. How much money did you earn for that?”

He quickly shifted his gaze from mine, then landed his eyes on me again. “I didn't do it for the paper, Pasha. I did it because I had to. I needed to.”

I gave him a quizzical look. Wanted him to elaborate on his need to, on why he had to. Yet, I didn't push when he didn't say more. It wasn't that important. If for nothing else, meeting with him face to face was more about letting him know that I knew. The few times I'd seen him since my attack, I thought his uneasiness around me was because of our online encounter, thought it had to do with his secret desire for me to wet his dick. And here it was because he'd been there. And guilt was eating away at him.

I eyed him. “Tell me something, Avery. How many times did you get off after standing around watching me being forced to super-soak all those niggas' dicks? Did the images stay in your head? Did they brick your dick? Did you go home afterward and fuck Mona?”

He nervously opened and closed his legs. Ran a hand over his face. I was tempted to fuck with him. Curious to reach between his legs and grab his dick, to see how hard it'd gotten. I burned into him with my glare, waiting, smirking.

“What now…?” he said. All of a sudden, he'd gotten concerned I'd expose him to Mona. I wanted no part in that. But he didn't need to know that. I let the possibility dangle over his head, allowing an ominous silence to fill the space around us.

“Pasha,” he softly called out to me as I opened the door to leave, my body shifted, both heels already planted into the ground. I craned my neck, glancing at him, meeting his pained gaze. “I really do love Mona. I'm just not sexually satisfied.”

JT's face flashed in my head. And my heart ached for what he'd put her through. “Mona needs you, Avery. Talk to her.”

He looked away. When he returned his gaze, there was a glint
of sorrow in his eyes. “I've given her all I can. I have nothing else for her. I'm tired of talking.”

“Then leave her. Get out before she gets hurt. Before she realizes everything she's believed in was a lie.”

“I'm not leaving what we've built together.”

I felt a tinge of sadness bubbling up inside of me—for him, and Mona. “Then my advice, Avery: Be
very, very
careful.” I narrowed my eyes. “You have
no
idea exactly what lengths a scorned woman, a woman with nothing to lose, will go to in order to make someone she's loved suffer for hurting or betraying her.” I tilted my head, kept my eyes locked on him. “You see where Jasper is, don't you?” He gave me a blank stare, then blinked as my words finally registered. Despite myself, I leaned back into the truck, giving him a light kiss on the cheek. “You take care of yourself, Avery. And be safe.”

I eased out of his truck, shutting the door, never looking back. Mona would find out on her own, in her own time, what type of man she was married to. It was only a matter of time.

The die had been cast.

• • •

“Paaaaasha,
daaaaahling,”
Zeus, my newly hired, seven-inch-heeled, gender-bender office manager for the salon here in L.A., drawls out as he sticks a wiry head of sandy-brown curls through the door. “Let's not keep the guests waiting.”

“I'll be out in a sec,” I say, slipping my diamond studs into my ears, screwing on the backs, then gliding a coat of gloss over my freshly painted lips. I smile at the reflection staring back at me in the mirror. Pleased, no…
happy
, with what I see.

Jasper had tried to break me. I
thought
he had broken me.
I believed he had destroyed me. But, no, I wasn't broken. I was beaten. I wasn't destroyed. I was damaged. But I am not the one who ended up dead.

I'm the last bitch standing—stilettos on my feet, diamonds around my neck, stepping over the bodies with over ten million dollars of Jasper's money, an insurance policy worth a half a mil that I'd taken out on him a few months before we were married, and the insurance check from a house I had someone else burn down.

And here I am. This is what I've become: a
ruthless
bitch that has emerged from the clouds of gun smoke and ashes, a bitch that will deliver your head on a silver platter and your tongue on a pitchfork without blinking an eye.

Fuck what anyone says. Vengeance was/is
mine
.

I pick up the folded piece of paper lying on the vanity, and open it, staring at the only visible name left on it.
Killah
. He'll have his own hell to pay one day. But it won't be by me, I think, as I reach for a pack of salon matches, striking a match, then setting a corner of the paper on fire. I toss the burning paper into the toilet, then flush.

Taking a deep breath, I shut off my light, and finally step out of my private bathroom, wearing a flowing black V-line dress with a cutout back and high/low hemline and a pair of six-inch stilettos. I decided to keep my look simple, yet classy.

He snaps his fingers in a zigzagging motion.
“Fiiiiiiierrrce,
I say. You serve it. You
weeeeerk
it.” I smile, taking in his smooth, honey-coated skin, long lashes, and pouty glossed lips. He licks his lips at my shimmering bare legs. “And you are giving me legs for
daaaaaaayz
, Miss Honeeey, okay. You give me life.”

I smile. Not only is Zeus beautiful to look at, he is a refreshing breath of air, and a no-nonsense kind of guy. He's a true godsend.
With flying back and forth to Jersey, I need someone I can trust to hold things down here for me. Still, I felt I should warn him before I hired him to not ever cross me. His response sealed the deal. “Diva, the only thing I cross are these long legs. Now when can I start?”

So far, he is more than I could have ever hoped for in an office manager. And I am falling head over heels in love with his energy. I follow him out front.

Dozens of white roses, calla lilies, and lilacs are situated throughout the salon in tall, sleek crystal vases. I glance around, smiling. Yes, I truly have arrived. I'm a young, beautiful, successful, and
very
wealthy woman surrounded by love, and lots of fine, hard-bodied men. Life couldn't be any better.

Everyone claps. And then I welcome and thank them for sharing in my success. Nappy No More II is more than a hair and body salon. It's an experience.

From the moment you step through the sliding glass door into the reception area and are greeted by a stunning rain curtain that flows from the ceiling to the black lava stones in the marble floor and the floating suspended mirrors, you know you have stepped into ten-thousand square feet of sleek sophistication. And the floor-to-ceiling windows, which allow natural light to enter throughout the salon, add to the ambiance, while the concierge desk and retail displays and open color bar offer optimum service and products.

The Steinmetz diamonds around my neck and wrists come alive under the recess lighting as I step into the center of the salon, a flute of sparkling scrumpy in my hand, glancing around the elegant space, smiling. Everyone is here: Paris, Porsha, and Persia; Mona; Bianca and Garrett; Cassandra; and, Greta, who was my savior
during my most trying moments. I owe her so much. They are all milling about, sipping on their choice of Armand de Brignac or Krug while nibbling on shrimp, caviar, and an array of other hors d'oeuvres.

“Ooooh, Miss Pasha, girl,” Booty says, sauntering up to me dressed in a showstopping nude Emilio Pucci gown with a scalloped hemline. “You snatched ya damn drrrrawzzz, sugah-boo, ‘n' showed ya fluffy ass wit' this right here. Oooh, you so goddamn high-class. You done made me shit my drawz wit' all this elegance…”

I cringe inwardly. But Booty is Booty. And I'd never want her to change. Well, okay…maybe just a little here and there. I give her a wide smile. “Thank you. I'm glad you decided to come. I am really happy you're here.”

“Well, you know I ain't never been on no plane, Miss Pasha, girl. But ain't no way I was gonna miss a chance to see how the rich ‘n' famous do it. And you did me right, putting me in first-class. Yes, gawd. I could get used to this, sugah-boo. I wonder if I could transfer my section-eight out here ‘n' get me one'a them big ole mansions I seen drivin' through here. Mmmph.” She sees the blank look on my face, chuckling. “Miss Pasha, girl, you know I ain't leavin' the hood, sugah-boo. But I hope to get me some celebrity dingaling before I leave.” She reaches for another flute of champagne. “I shoulda brought my flask 'cause you know I ain't wit' all this fruity-tootie drinkin'. I need somethin' wit' a lil' more thug juice in it. I'm glad I packed me some get right in my clutch, though. I'ma go outside in a minute ‘n' get mind right.”

Despite myself, I can't help but laugh. I give her a hug. “Cassandra, thank you.”

“Ooooh, now hol' on, Miss Pasha, girl? You know I ain't wit' all this huggin' mess. Now what you thankin' me for?”

I smile at her, cupping her face, and looking her in the eyes. “For being your incredibly ghetto-fabulous self, for having my back, and for becoming a very special part of my life. You forced your way into my heart. And I love you, girl.”

She rapidly flaps her extra-long mink lashes. “Motherfuck you, Miss Pasha, girl. Goddamn you. You stay tryna do me.” Her lips quiver. “You ain't gonna be stayin' out here, is you? 'Cause I need to know how I'ma get my hair did. You know I can't let no other bitch lay her fingers through my scalp but you.”

“Cass, I'll
always
be here for you even when you piss me off… to do your hair. I'm not going to ever turn my back on you.”

I'm caught completely off guard when she grabs me in an embrace, and bursts into tears. It doesn't take long before we are both crying. She backs out of our embrace. We pull ourselves together, drying her eyes. “You ole ugly bitch. I hate…ev-v-eryt-t-thing… you stand for.”

Dabbing under my eyes, I laugh. “I love you, too, Cass.”

She grunts. “You ole messy bitch. You lucky I'ma keep it real elegant ‘n' not show my…” Her voice trails off when a celebrity rapper steps through the sliding doors with an entourage of ballers in tow. “Yes, lawdgawd, I think I done found my next…let's see, one, two, three, four, five, six sponsors. Heeeeey, sugah-boos,” she coos when she catches their eyes. I eye her, shaking my head, as she sways her hips in pursuit of her next victims.

I dab under my eyes again with the back of my pointer fingers. I smile warmly when I spot my realtor, Katrina, walking through the doors holding the hand of a deep dish of tall, dark chocolate.
Mygod!
My knees almost buckle. She throws me a wave, walking toward me, smiling. “Girl, you are fabulous,” I say as we air kiss. “So glad you could make it.”

She lifts her Cartier Paris shades, resting them atop her head. “Boo,” she says warmly. “I wouldn't have missed it. The place is fiiiyah, girl. I love what you've done to it. You are servin' me life. I can't wait to get my hair laid for filth up in here.” She turns to Mr. Fine Chocolate. “Oh, babe. This is Pasha, the owner. She's from Jersey, too. Pasha, this is my boo, Alex.”

“Yo, what's good?” He extends a wide hand. And my hand gets lost in it as he shakes it. “Congrats on ya spot. It's mad classy.”

I smile. “Thank you.” Katrina grabs a flute of champagne off a silver tray as a waiter walks by. “There's also a juice bar,” I say, looking at Mr. Fine Chocolate, “around the corner. Please. Mingle. Make yourselves comfortable.” He excuses himself, kisses Katrina on the cheek, then makes his way through the salon. “Girl, he's fine. When's the big day?”