The Conglomerate: A Luxorious Tale (23 page)

             
Dorenda and Joey had yet to discuss the assault. By all appearances, Joey seemed to be doing well, but Dorenda wanted to gage how well she was doing emotionally.

             
“Joey, I know you probably don’t want to talk about the assault... But I want to know how you are doing and I want the truth.

             
Joey contemplated for a moment then spoke, “Right after it happened I kept bouncing between sadness, embarrassment, and anger. I was miserable, but then those girls that he actually raped came forward. One of them said if he had not been caught on tape attacking me, she would have never come forward.” Joey shook her head, “that poor girl said her own mom didn’t believe her. She said her mom told her that he has beautiful women throwing themselves at him so why would he need to rape her.” Tears began leaking from Joey’s eyes as she went on. “Baby girl was only fifteen when he raped her and she said if her mother didn’t believe her she knew that the police wouldn’t. Ohhhh that broke my heart.” The manicurist dabbed Joeys face with a piece of tissue.

             
Joey smiled at her, “Thank you.”

             
“That is just terrible,” Dorenda replied. “Some women should have never been allowed to have children.”

             
“After hearing that I stopped pitying myself. Those young girls did get raped and as hard as he tried he couldn’t rape me.”

             
“I tell you this, God works in mysterious ways and everything happens for a reason. Dawhar came up against a woman that he couldn’t intimidate and he got exposed for what he truly is. The attack on you made it possible for those babies to come forward. Now they will be able to get the justice they deserve.”

***

              During his twelve years in the league Dawhar had been a celebrated wide receiver with unlimited talent comparable to the likes of Darelle Revis. At thirty-six he was faster and better than half the league’s young corners. A charismatic guy, fans across the nation loved Dawhar, therefore companies lined up to give him endorsement deals. Following the assault on Joey and the allegations from the other women, he was suspended from the league indefinitely. All of the endorsement deals he garnered over the years were snatched away, players around the league; including his friends disassociated themselves, and his wife hardly said two words to him.

             
Once the city’s most beloved star, Dawhar, used to frequent the finest bars and restaurants. A lot of times he didn’t even have to take his wallet out. The red carpet that had been laid out for him at those establishments, were now rolled up for good. He was no longer welcomed. The only place the he could visit were hole in the wall dives, much like the eastside bar that he was in on this particular night drowning his issues in cheap cognac. It was filled with old coke heads, past-their-prime-prostitutes, and down trodden alcoholics. Dawhar didn’t mind the bar’s patrons, unlike everyone else in Charlotte they were not giving him dirty looks or heckling him with vulgar remarks.

             
Sitting at the far end of the bar, slumped down with his forearms resting on the bar top. Dawhar had just knocked down his fifth double shot when an edgy young beauty breezed through the door. Fair skinned with wild wavy blonde hair, the petite chick had on extra tight blue skinny jeans, a red sequin tank, and six inch Baker’s heels. From just a glimpse of Dawhar sat attention. He watched as she switched to the middle of the bar and slid onto a bar stool.

             
“Aye bar keep—” he called out waving the bartender over. “Give me another double and whatever she’s drinking,” he pointed at the girl. “I’m paying.” With all the trouble that he was in Dawhar still couldn’t help himself.

             
The bartender went over to talk to the girl then returned to the end of the bar with Dawhar’s double shot.

             
“She wants you to sit with her.”

             
Dawhar hopped off the stool and staggered over to her and took a seat on the stool next to her. In a spanish coated accent she said, “thank you for my drinks.”

             
“You are very welcome and beautiful,” he garbled. “What are you?”

             
“I black silly,” she giggled
.



            
 
“With that accent?
”



            
 
“I’m a black Dominican.”

             
“Okay, okay, I’m D. What’s your name?”

             
“I’m Mya.”

             
“Mya what is your fine ass doing in a nasty joint like this?”

             
“I come here for the strong martinis.”

             
Drooling and disrobing her with his eyes Dawhar said, “I know somewhere much nicer than this with better martinis.”

             
“And where is that?”

             
“The Ritz. I can get a room. We can order up some food and all the martinis you want.”

             
“Sure.”

             
“For real?” he couldn’t believe she agreed so easily.

             
“Yeah.”

             
Dawhar threw some money on the bar, “Let’s go.” With his blood alcohol level triple the legal limit he swayed and wobbled out the door.

             
“Would you like for me to drive?” she asked, expressing concern for his ability

to drive in his condition.

              “Why not?” he tossed her the keys without warning. “Have you ever driven a Bentley before?”

             
“No.”

             
“I don’t know why I even asked you that. Looking at those cheap ass shoes you ain’t never been close to a Bentley or inside one.” He bowled over in a fit of laughter.

             
Stupid Idiot
, Mya thought not amused
.



            
 
“Damn baby don’t be mad you rolling with a rich nigga, enjoy. Shit, you

suck this dick good I’ll change your life.”

              A black cargo van with blacked out windows pulled up behind Dawhar. The sliding opened suddenly. Dawhar turned and came face to face with three masked men. He twisted his body to run, but his efforts were thwarted by a black hood that one of the men slipped over his head. A long syringe was plunged into Dawhar’s neck, the fluid from the needle knocked him out instantly. The men tossed his body into the van and sped away.

             
“Pendejo Bastardo,” Mya muttered. “Tonto del culo.” She laughed as she slid comfortably into the Bentley driver’s seat. Starting the engine, she operated the luxury vehicle with ease. She owned two. “I hate cheap shit,” she kicked off the shoes and tossed them onto the backseat.

             
The name Mya was an alias, her real name was Dorca and she belonged to a well-structured hit squad out of South Florida. Dorca wheeled the Bentley to the parking lot’s exit, waited for the tractor trailer to pass, and made a right out of the parking lot. The trailer’s mechanical rear door slid upward, a silver metal ramp descended onto the street, and Dorca drove the Bentley into the trailer. The ramp retracted, the door went down, and the tractor disappeared into the night.

Chapter Eight

             
“Ooh my face is beat to death,” Joey raved peering into the floor length mirror in the living room of an extravagant three bedroom yacht that belonged to a yacht rental company that Zay owned. She had just received a flawless makeup job from M. Latrice, Miami’s top makeup artist and the head of makeup at King of Diamonds.

             
“I’m glad that you like it,” M said, scurrying around the room packing her makeup case.

             
“I know that Charlotte doesn’t compare to Miami, but there has to be something I can do to steal you from KOD’s.” Joey joked. “No, but for real I want to at least fly you in for my big events.”

             
“Now that is something that can be arranged, but aren’t the artist at the Luxe spa really good?”

             
“Not as good as you. I mean I can do what they do.”

             
“I could come up and do some hands on training classes with them.”

             
“That is a wonderful idea!”

             
“Before you leave Miami let’s sit down and work out the details.”

             
“Okay,” Joey said rummaging through her purse for cash. “M, did Cee pay you?”

             
“No, I almost forgot. She told me to call her when I was done with you.”

             
“I’m paying for the both of us,” Joey handed her four crisp one-hundred dollar bills.”

             
“Thank you Joey. I’m sorry that I have to rush. I really wanted to see you in your gown, but it’s one of our busiest nights at KOD. I have to get there early. Are you guys still coming through after your event?”

             
“Yes we’ll be there. The section is already reserved,” she replied escorting M off the yacht.

             
“See you tonight and I want to see plenty of pictures.”

             
“Alright, see you later.” Joey returned to the main salon. “Cee, I’m ready.”

Chatting and laughing amongst themselves in an intimate manner Cee and Jason e
ntered the salon. Zoning in on their body language—
are they flirting?
Joey thought.

             
“Jo do you want me to do your hair in here or in the bathroom?” Cee asked.

             
“The bathroom is fine,” she responded eyeing the pair suspiciously.

             
“Give me five minutes to set up,” Cee left the room.

             
When she was out of earshot, Joey questioned her brother-in-law.

             
“What’s going with you two?”

             
“What do you mean what’s going on?”

             
Cocking her head to the side, Joey twisted her lips. “You know exactly what I mean. Ever since y’all got down here y’all been real chummy, chatty and touchy-feely.”

             
“It ain’t like that, Cee good peoples and she needs someone in her corner right now. She don’t wanna burden you and Ev too much.”

             
“Yeah right!” Joey scoffed with one hand on her hip; she pointed at him. “Jason don’t be taking advantage of my friend while she is grieving.”

             
“I’m looking out for
your friend
, if her two best friends were on their job,” he stopped short before spilling the beans about Cee’s coke habit. “Look sis, you the last person I thought would be coming at me like that you know I don’t get down like a creep.”

             
“Mmm hmm,” she said surveying his army green tee and fatigue cargo

shorts. “Why are you not dressed and where is Zay?”

              “Right here,” Zay entered the room in a dark beige tee and beige fatigue pants.

Joey looked at her watch
.

             
“When are y’all going to start getting ready? The car is going to be here in less than an hour.”

             
“I changed the pick-up time; the car will be here in two and a half hours.”

             
“Why did you that?”

             
“I have something important to take care of.” Zay kissed her softly slipping her a little tongue. “We’ll be back.”

             
Zay and Jason left the yacht, walked down the marina, and boarded a speed boat with two dark skinned Cuban men. The driver appeared to be in his late sixties and the younger Cuban couldn’t have been more than nineteen years old. The boat sped away and didn’t slow down until they were deep into the glades. The younger Cuban went below deck and returned with a man whose head was covered by a black sack.               The man’s wrist were tied so tight that they were deeply bruised and covered in dry blood. The young Cuban flung the hooded man onto the tarp covered floor. Zay reached down and snatched the hood from the man’s head. Dawhar opened his eyes, but couldn’t make the shadowy figures against the purplish-orange sun setting sky. He blinked rapidly to gain focus. When his vision cleared, his eyes bulged when he recognized Zay. He immediately began pleading, but it was just a bunch of muffled hums, because his mouth was covered in duct tape.

             
“Yeah nigga,” Zay grinned wickedly. “I’m guessing right about now you realizing you fucked with the wrong man’s wife, huh? You probably thought I was some lame ass dude.” Dawhar shook his head side to side hastily.

             
Not much for a lot of jaw jacking, Zay retrieved a fourteen inch knuckle guard combat knife with a serrated blade and shoved it into Dawhar’s abdomen repeatedly at least ten times then dropped the knife next to his near lifeless body. The Cubans picked up Dawhar’s limp body and tossed him into the water making a dull thud on contact. The sound attracted two massively humungous alligators lurking nearby.

             
Creeping over to the body, the gators positioned themselves at opposite ends of Dawhar. As if coordinated, they simultaneously opened wide, and sunk their teeth deep into his flesh. Twisting and pulling Dawhar like a rag doll.

             
Zay stared in silence as the alligators devoured their human meal. It felt good to avenge the attack on his wife. He wasn’t happy that he’d had to kill again. Zay didn’t take pleasure in killing because for him murder was a necessary means to an end when there was no other remedy. When someone harmed his family in the manner Dawhar had, murder was the only solution.

             
An approaching airboat took Zay’s attention away from the horrific scene in the water. Zay looked down at the older Cuban who was rolling up the blood soaked tarp,               “Ay my man someone’s coming.”

             
Without looking up he replied, “That’s your ride back. Take your clothes off.”

             
“Huh?”

             
He nodded at Zay’s clothes.

             
Zay looked down, his shirt and shorts were cover in blood. Hurriedly he began to remove his clothes.

             
The younger Cuban opened a metal insulated box affixed to the deck. Steam rose from the box, he dipped his hand, and pulled out two scalding hot damp towels. He gave the towels to Zay. “Use these to clean your skin while I get your clothes.”

             
Jason leaned over to Zay and muttered, “Damn these muhfuckas is thorough.”

The younger Cuban came back with a set of clothes identical to what Jason and Zay were wearing.

              “I’m good,” Jason said, “I don’t have any blood on me.”

             
“You must clean up and change too,” the older Cuban spoke. “Little spots that the eye can’t see could be on you.”

***

              Asaad Nyfeed’s annual gala was an extravagant fundraising event that he held every spring in Miami. The one-thousand dollar a plate affair was a mix of old money, new money, politicians, socialites, A-listers, and king pin level dealers. The proceeds from the yearly event went to the campaign funds and personal pockets. All of the politicians in attendance were in Asaad’s pocket.

             
Asaad’s heroine entered the country through three major port areas: California, Florida, and Louisiana. In each state he had high ranking police officials, judges, mayors, senators, and congressmen that he took good care of financially. In return through their connections the politicians made sure that the heroine made it into the country without interruption.

             
Joey spared no expense when it came to dressing for the gala, because the women that attended the gala were couture and atelier type. Joey was astonishing in a seven thousand dollar lilac, one shoulder chiffon Marchesa gown. The gown’s strap was wide and embellished with Swarovski crystals, fitted at the waist it flowed eloquently from her torso to the floor.

             
Cee was equally impressive in a black lace cap sleeve Marchesa gown, a gift from Joey, who’d begged her to come with her. She thought that it would be good for Cee to get away and to keep her company while Zay and Jason wandered the room networking. Usually she’d be stuck with a dingy vixen that Jason brought as a date. To Joey’s surprise this year Jason didn’t bring a date but judging by the way Cee and Jason were playing one another closely she understood why.

             
During the cocktail hour Joey and Cee people watched while playing fashion police. The friends giggled at a middle aged woman displaying a horrible set of legs in an outrageously short tight dress.

             
“Who told her that was okay with that horrible shape?” Joey joked.

             
“I don’t know, but um um,” Cee stuttered distracted by something over Joey’s shoulder. “Who is that chick with all that ass in Zay’s face?”

             
Joey turned to see a female with infinite curves in an emerald green lace and silk Versace gown that hugged her like a second set of skin. A young Joey would’ve flown over and said, “what the fuck is this?” Now older and refined she didn’t even flinch, the woman could easily be a business associate, and Joey wouldn’t dare embarrass Zay or herself by flipping out like a first rate hood rat. She was no fool though, from the distance she monitored carefully. Zay and sexy mystery women’s interaction seemed to be harmless, but if it veered towards flirty lane; Joey would most definitely check the situation. A familiar man soon approached the woman and Zay.

             
“Isn’t that Sincere?” Cee asked Joey.

             
“Yeah it sure is.” The woman turned toward Sincere and from her side profile Joey realized that it was her good friend. “Oh my God Cee that’s Kisa Kane.”

             
The two women walked over just as Jason was walking over. Joey eased up behind Kisa with her index finger over her lips so that no one would alert Kisa to her presence. Disguising her voice in a deep bass tone, Joey leaned into Kisa’s ear from behind and said, “All I want for my birthday is a big booty hoe,” then squeezed Kisa’s ample ass with both hands.

             
Kisa whipped around ready to spaz on the man who dared to try her. When she saw Joey’s face a smile spread across her face.

             
“Hey baby girl,” Kisa squealed excitedly wrapping her arms around Joey hugging her tightly. “How are you?”

             
“I’m good,” Joey beamed just as excited.

             
“No, how are you really doing?” Kisa raised her brow. By Kisa’s expression, Joey knew that she was referring to the Dawhar incident.

             
“I’m okay. Honestly I’m okay.”

             
“We’ve been out of the country. As soon as we got back, I went to your house first then I went to the Luxe looking for you and Bev told me that you were in Dubai.”

             
“Yes girl I had to go to Dubai and get away from all the chaos.” Kisa reached around Joey and grabbed Cee by the hand.

              “Damn Cee, I didn’t see you.” Kisa embraced her, “I’m so sorry about Petey and that Sin and I were not able to make the funeral. We’d just left the country when he passed. Did you get the flowers?”

             
“Yes Kane, I got the flowers, the cards, and the money which was a bit much.”

             
“The money was for the kids,” Kisa winked. “How are you holding up?

             
“I have good days and a lot of bad days, but I’m making it.”

             
“You already know if you need anything and I mean anything, you better pick up the phone and call me.”

             
“Man, don’t hate ‘cuz you niggas are the second and third flyest dudes in the building,” Sincere, Kisa’s husband, teased Zay and Jason animatedly. He was spectacular in a beautiful Dolce and Gabbana tuxedo, a white jacket with black lapels. Beneath it a black shirt, black suspenders, black pants, black diamond cufflinks, and black Mauri ostrich and suede loafers.

             
“I guess your flashy Harlem ass supposed to be the flyest man in here,” Zay said flashing his high wattage pearly whites, incredibly handsome himself in a navy Tom Ford tuxedo.

             
“To show me a dude flyer you gotta put a mirror in front of me.”

             
“You are still the slickest talking nigga I know.” Jason shook his head smiling.

             
“Blame it on my old head,” Sincere laughed. “I know one thing for sure the three baddest women in the building are standing right here.”

             
“Always the charmer,” Joey said. Kisa rolled her eyes.

             
“Always the flirt is more like it.”