Smooth Operator (26 page)

Dominique’s heels clicked against the wood floor as she entered
the foyer. She sent the boys to their rooms to change into their pajamas. “I’ll be up there to read you a story in a minute,” she yelled behind them, walking toward the ground-floor master suite. She approached the doorway and could tell by the reeking of perfume that Quinton had had his mistress here—or the bitch was still here, riding his dick at this very moment.

She shook her head in disbelief that he would be so fuckin’ disrespectful as to have his mistress in her home and in her bed. For a moment she wondered if she needed to grab a knife and slice one of these bitches, but then she remembered the video camera she’d planted in her bedroom and figured she would have to kick ass with her bare hands. She pushed the double doors to their master suite open and immediately Dominique lost her breath. She knew she had to be mistaken, so instinctively she closed her eyes tight and opened them quickly. Nothing about the vision had changed and there lay Quinton—dead: handcuffed and shackled to the bed, a red leather noose pulled tight around his neck, and fresh cum covering his still dick.

A
rri’s hair flowed over her shoulders as she sauntered across the cobblestone street in Zurich to the concrete steps of the Central Bank. Her Manolo heels clicked in rhythm as she opened the glass doors and walked into the bank’s lobby. She caught a glimpse of herself dressed in her Dolce & Gabbana cream power suit and Louis Vuitton shoulder bag.

She passed Lyfe on the way into the bank. He sat in the lobby, leafing through the morning paper, and once her heels clicked past him, he looked up and nodded his head. Arri walked over to the customer service rep and smiled. “How are you today?”

“I’m fine.” The rep smiled back at her. “How are you?”

“All is well.”

“May I help you with anything?” the smiling representative asked her in a thick Swiss accent.

“Yes,” Arri said, “I would like to transfer money from my account, please.”

“Okay, I need to see your passport, please.”

“No problem.” Arri handed it to her and the representative quickly handed it back.

“May I have your account number and password?”

“Certainly—000678214, and the password is Smooth Operator.”

The representative typed the information that Arri gave her
into the computer. “How much would you like to transfer?” she asked.

“All of it to these accounts.” Arri waited patiently while the representative completed the transfers.

“Thank you very much.” The teller handed Arri back her bankbook.

“Have a good day.”

Arri smiled and walked toward the lobby, where she walked past Lyfe and out the front door. She slid into a taxi and rode to a small hangar on the outskirts of the city. She walked over to Lyfe, who’d arrived shortly before she did and was now waiting for her outside of the chartered plane. “It’s done.” She handed him the bankbook. “All transferred evenly into these accounts.”

“Great.”

“Where’s Zion?” she asked.

“I sent him ahead with Khris: She and Tyree arrived here this morning. We’ll meet them in the Caymans when we get there.”

“We’re going to the Cayman Islands?” She smiled.

“Yeah,” he said. “You remember where I took you before.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it’s home now. We own it.”

She kissed him passionately. “I love you.”

“You better.” Lyfe smiled. “Now, are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Well, let’s go.”

D
ominique sat in the front pew of the church, gazing at Quinton’s mahogany and brass casket. She stroked the arm of her older four-year-old twin and he placed his head on her lap and sobbed. The feeling in the center of her chest was one she’d never felt before: her husband dead at the hands of Payton was sweeter than she ever dreamed. She always knew that they wouldn’t be together forever, but this ending deserved an Academy Award.

The California Mass Choir hummed “Nearer My God to Thee” as Quinton lay dressed in a tailor-made black Armani suit, with a soft pink rose pinned to his lapel. He looked well rested as he lay among a sea of bleeding heart wreaths, carnations, roses, and mountains and mountains of wildflowers.

Light sobs and cries could be heard throughout the church as the pastor invited Quinton’s family, friends, and coworkers to speak their peace about how great of a man, father, and husband they thought he was.

“Sit up, baby,” Dominique said to her son, kissing him on his forehead, as he leaned against the back of the pew. “Everything will be okay,” she assured him.

Dominique rose to her feet and slowly made her way to the casket. She stood before Quinton and ran her soft, black satin
gloves from the gathered silk lining that trimmed the edge of the casket to Quinton’s still lips.

Her pearl bracelets draped on her wrist as she ran her hands over Quinton’s face and wondered how many people—including her own family—had thought she was stupid, crazy, insane … and even pitied her. After all, it was one thing for your husband to cheat, but it was a whole other ball game for his mistress to kill his ass. A mistress that no one knew, not even Quinton, was your sister.

Dominique’s veil swayed before her face like a netted shield as she lifted it and bent over into the casket. She looked at a still Quinton and said, “This is such a relief. You’re dead and my sister did all the dirty work. Don’t worry, I turned her ass in, because I got the murder on the surveillance camera. I thought that camera would just catch you cheating, but it served an even better purpose.”

Her heated breath hit against his stone cheeks. “Oh,” she giggled slightly, “wait, let me back up. You didn’t know that Payton was my sister, did you? You thought little ole—wait, excuse me—allow me to use your words; you thought fat-ass Dominique was all alone in the world and needed you … because I didn’t have anyone else. Well,” she smirked, “obviously you were wrong. You were such,” she paused, “a motherfucker to be married to.” She stared at him and shook her head. A smile curled her lips. “You thought you were such a smooth operator,” she whispered and arched her brow, “but here’s the secret, I’m the smoothest of them all.” She snickered. “Because no one ever saw me comin’.

“I knew you were fucking Payton—how stupid did you think I was; the bitch was far from subtle about it, and her perfume reeks—oh God, I hated that fuckin’ smell. But do you think that bitch gave a damn about what she was doing to me? Hell, no. She never has. She and my mother thought that I was nothing. They made me the black sheep. All because I wanted to be conventional, because I wanted a family, because I wanted a man for
more than money and dick, so they labeled me stupid and ridiculous. And they made my life,” she paused, “a living hell. But what they didn’t know is that I really held all the cards and that I was a bigger bitch than they could ever be.

“But one thing they were right about was you.” She smirked. “They had your bald-headed-sweat-too-fuckin’-much ass pegged. And to think for years I really wanted our marriage to work, I didn’t want to be like them—but you and my sister forced me to be. You two forced me to take matters into my own hands, because God knows that I never intended to be this chick. The chick that I am now.”

The choir continued to sing in the background and Quinton’s mother’s cries rocked the air. “Oh God,” Dominique snorted, “I wish she would shut the fuck up, because honestly, she’s the real reason why you never grew up to be a man.” Dominique shook her head. “I knew that you and Payton were stealing money from the onset. And I knew it because you were so dumb that you had the offshore account statements in your briefcase. Who does that? Didn’t you know I searched through your things?” She cracked up, laughing so hard that her cackle resonated around the room as if she were wailing.

The usher walked up behind Dominique and rubbed her back. “I’m okay,” Dominique sniffed. “Please, just give me a few more minutes with him.”

“I understand,” the usher said as she patted Dominique’s back again and then walked away.

“It’s amazing how many people think I’m distraught. They just don’t realize that I’m celebrating.” She clapped her hands together. “Hell, I stopped giving a fuck about you the night you came into the house and wouldn’t make love to me. So, as far as I’m concerned, you’ve been dead. And so I’m going to take the twenty million dollars that my man—oh, wait, you didn’t know that I had a man.” Her face lit up. “Well, yes, I did, he started as a one-nighter, but the dick was too good to let go, so I hired him
and had him join the private eye. I’d already put him on the case. And together they came up with the best plan ever. They acted like the FBI”—she cracked up laughing even more—“and they muscled Lyfe to steal a fortune from his wife. I hated I had to deceive Lyfe, someone who was innocent, but I count it a fair exchange: no robberies, because I’m the one who made sure he got the banking information he needed, and I knew he would use it, considering his prior history.

“Now it seems that Lyfe may have gotten away with more money than me, but I’m okay with that, because I’m going to take my money, and the boys and I are going to the South of France, to meet up with my man, Terrance aka Keenan. And Terrance and I are going to spread the money on the bed and fuck until the night cries out. So thank you. Thank you for being such an ass.” She stroked the side of his face. “You can rest now, sweetness, and take your sleep. Because when you wake up in hell you will see why it knows no fury like a woman scorned.”

Dominique turned toward her twins, “Come on, boys,” she said, “kiss your father good-bye.”

The boys walked to the casket and Dominique picked them up one by one. They kissed their father on the cheek and their tears wet Quinton’s face.

“It’s okay.” Dominique fought like hell not to smile, but she couldn’t resist holding it in, so she curled her lips and said, “In the end, sweetie, everyone gets their just due. Now, we have to go.” She looked at Quinton’s casket and gave him a soft wink. She grabbed her sons by the hands and proceeded out of the church and up the street to where a driver stood holding the back door to a stretched white Rolls-Royce open for them.

My Father, who art in Heaven, thank You for answering my prayers.

To my mother and father, thank you for always being there, for being the best parents in the world, and for always supporting me, my children, my husband, and my dreams. No girl could ever ask for more. I love you!

To my husband, thank you soooooo much for listening to me every night go on and on about my characters as if they were real people.

To my children, thank you for making me laugh, for giving me precious memories, and for always interrupting me when I’m on a tight deadline.

To my family: my grandma, aunties, uncles, cousins, and in-laws, your support means everything to me. I thank you for always spreading the word, for buying my books, passing them around, and always being the best family anyone can have.

To my cousin Sharif, you are such an inspiration to me. I admire your determination, your strength, and your desire. I pray for you every day and I believe in everything that you dream. Remember that we have dominion and the ability to move mountains. I love you, my cousin!

To my friends, church family, and my co-workers, your support is immeasurable and for that I will never be able to thank you enough.

To my One World/Ballantine family, those seen and unseen, thank you for everything! I may have written the manuscript but together we made this a book!

Melody Guy, thank you for being one of the best editors an author could have, but most of all thank you for your patience, especially when I always seem to need another week … and another … and another …

Porscha, Porscha, Porscha, wow, here we are. You are so incredibly talented and you certainly outdid yourself with this project. You were so dedicated, so amazingly patient, so willing to always give support, ideas, and share what you thought was best. I really enjoyed working with you on this project and I sincerely hope that in the end I made you proud!

To my agent, Sarah Camilli, thank you so much for all that you do; and to think we’re just getting started!

To Nakea Murray, my friend. Show me how to do it like you, show me how to do! You are so dedicated and you have such an amazing gift to see in others what they can’t even see in themselves. Thank you so much! Who knew that all of this would come from you simply telling me, “Risqué don’t go to church!”

Tiffany Smith, thanks for embracing me, for supporting my work, and for making me laugh! I’m elated and privileged to call you my friend.

And 3 Chicks On Lit, we’re in the building, every Wednesday night @7 on blogtalk radio!

To Dywane Birch, thank you for always keeping it real, for staying positive, and for being a wonderful friend!

To Adrianne Byrd, thank you for always being there to answer the phone at two, three, and six o’clock in the morning when I
was pulling my hair out! You are incredibly talented and I know without a doubt that
Hustlin’ Divas
is gon’ kill ’em!

To Danielle Santiago, you are so incredibly special and soooo gifted, believe me: the best is yet to come.

To my childhood friend Sharonda Smith: what has it been, close to thirty years that we’ve known each other? I want you to know that you are an amazingly strong woman. You deserve the best and it will come. Keep your head held high and know that no matter what, I will always be there for you! Love you, sis!

To my buddy AJ: one day we will write that script!

To Keisha, thanks for being my Thursday night reality show pot’nah! It’s been six years and I’ve seen your life grow in so many different ways. I want you to know that any- and everything is possible, that dreams come true, and that anything you put your mind to will be conquered. And just as I said in the last book, one day all the checks will cash (inside joke) and we will finally get what we deserve … or they’ll get it.

To K’wan and Charlotte, you guys are the best. Thanks for always being there to read, to chat, or to come over for a party. Love you guys. And K’wan, thanks for always answering the phone when I had a crazy idea! You are an amazing and talented author and I wish you nothing but the best, my friend.