***

  Jada had traveled to Houston and followed Fresh’s instructions. She left word with Diego’s sister at Anna’s restaurant for Gordo to call him. Three days after Jada returned, Fresh received a call from Gordo, and by the end of the week, Gordo was in Atlanta. They all sat in Jada’s living room drinking Absolut vodka and eating salsa chips.

  Gordo said, “What happened to Q?”

  “I’ll let him tell you. I don’t exactly know.”

  “Have you been to see him?”

  “No.”

  Gordo’s nose wrinkled “That is supposed to be your friend.”

  “He is my friend.”

  “I don’t understand then. You don’t go see him and he want to keep…”He paused.

  Fresh wondered what he was trying to say. He knew Gordo had trouble with translation sometimes.

  “He tries to keep what?”asked Fresh.

  “Secret.”

  “What kind of secret?”

  “We were going to kill Diego.”

  “Who was going to kill Diego?”

  “Me and Q.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. The plan was to get Q to make a deal with him and then I was going to send my team in to take him out.”

  “Your own cousin?”

  “Yes. You and Q are like family to me, but I’m wondering, are you like family to each other because you never knew this?”

  This was shocking to Fresh. He wondered why Q never told him. Then he wondered why Diego stopped dealing with him toward the end of his life. Perhaps he sensed something. Or perhaps Q told him to stop dealing with him. Shady motherfuckin’ character.

  “Look, that’s why I wanted you to come visit. I didn’t want to say too much over the phone, but I’m wanted for murder. I killed two people in Houston.”

  Gordo narrowed his eyes.

  “They were trying to rob me.”

  “I understand.”

  “I need help.”

  “We need each other.”

  Fresh sipped his drink and said, “I need a shipment.”

  Gordo cut his eyes at Jada. He never liked discussing business in front of women.

  Fresh said, “She’s cool. She’s my girlfriend. Soon to be my wife.”

  Jada smiled. She knew it was all bullshit. Maybe it wasn’t, but why did he get this epiphany now that he was on his way to jail, perhaps prison.

  Jada stood. “I’ll just go to my room and catch up on House of Cards.”

  After she disappeared, Gordo said, “So, what happens if you get locked up and you aren’t able to pay me the money?”

  “That won’t happen.”

  “The Policia is after you?”

  “They are.”

  “So you don’t know if it will happen or not.”

  “You’re right. I can’t promise you that, but anytime you consign someone something, there is always a risk involved.”

  “True.”

  Fresh said, “Look, man, I need you more than ever. Remember, I convinced Q to see you when he didn’t want to see you. Now, there is no Q and no Diego.”

  “What happens when they catch you?”

  “I’m going to beat this case. I’m not going to run. I’m turning myself in.”

  “And after you beat it?”

  “We can go right back to work. I’m going to hustle till I die. This is all I have.”

  “And it’s all I have, too.”Gordo downed the liquor, then stood and made his way to the door.

  When the door closed, Jada appeared and said, “Fresh, tell me the goddamned truth. Did Q have something to do with Trey’s murder?”

  Fresh shrugged. “I know you probably won’t believe me but I don’t know.”

  “I believe you.”

  “Can we talk about something else?”he asked.

  Her heart raced and she grabbed his head and kissed him. “So, I’m going to be your wife?”

  “If you want to be.”

  “Fresh, don’t bullshit me. You know every girl wants to be a wife and I don’t appreciate you saying that shit just because you are going away.”

  “I’m saying this because I’m growing up, Jada. I see a woman I want to be with and I need to get her.”

  “I want you to meet my mom.”

  “After I surrender, I’ll meet the whole family.”

  “I have a sister that I want you to meet, too. She gets high. She is in and out of rehab. I don’t see her that much and I have a stepbrother that is in prison. Well, not a stepbrother, but a half-brother. We have the same father but not the same mother.”

  “I want to meet them all. Let me take care of this. I want to make some money and beat this case and settle down.”Then he looked at her with serious eyes. “I’m not getting out of the game. This is what I do. This is what I’m good at.”

  “I understand.”Of course Jada would want her man to get out of the game but she had come to terms that this was her fate.

  “Now, I need somebody to help me get rid of this shit that I got coming. You think Shamari would help?”

  “You can’t be serious?”

  “I am. Black said he was a good dude.”Jada studied his face and realized that he was.

  “I’ll ask.”

  ***

  Jada stood in front of him in a black bodysuit. Shamari imagined her fucking Fresh. Sucking Fresh. Getting doggy styled by Fresh. And she had the nerve to ask him to help Fresh? The man that was fucking the woman that he loved. Shamari laughed when Jada asked him to help Fresh get rid of his product. “You can’t be serious?”

  “He asked me to ask.”

  “You love this man?”

  She was silent. She knew that if she answered the question truthfully that it would hurt him.

  “I know you do.”Shamari said.

  “Do you wanna help or not?”

  “I just got out. Did you forget about that?”

  “I know.”

  “You want me back in prison?”

  “Of course I don’t.”

  “Between you and this punk-ass FBI agent, y’all are determined to put me back in the drug business.”

  “I think Fresh wanted me to ask you just because you are from Atlanta.”

  “And so are you.”

  “Hey, he asked me to ask and I asked.”

  He stood there contemplating, He had no solid plan for making money. He had the funds that Black had left him and he had wanted to help Black’s remaining kids any way that he could. He said, “What’s in it for me and why is this dude so desperate to recruit me?”

  “Because you’re real, Shamari.”She paused and said, “They’re not too many real dudes out here.”

  “There are lots of real dudes out here, Jada.”

  “Not like you. They don’t build them like you, Mari.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Can you help?”

  “Is it important to you?”

  “It is.”

  He laughed and said, “Jada, Jada, Jada. The dope boy’s best friend.”

  Jada slapped the fuck out of him. “So what are you saying, Mari?”

  “I’m just saying you can’t keep living your life like this. Starr has found her a way to stay away from the D-Boy lifestyle.”

  “Did she?”

  “Well, at least she is trying.”

  “I’m not Starr.”

  “I understand.”

  “You in or not?”

  “What’s in it for me?”

  “Low prices.”

  “What do you call low prices?”

  “He told me to tell you if you partner up with him, you can get a block for sixteen thousand.”

  Damn, Shamari thought. He had never had a price like that in Atlanta. He could make a few moves and then do something else.

  “I’m in, but this dude better not be a clown.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Gordo had agreed to do business with Fresh, but they would start small because his uncle had just lost a thousand kilos when Diego was murdered. His uncle was suspicious since Fresh was one of the last people that Diego saw before he was murdered.

  Fresh needed someone to bring the product back and Shantelle seemed like the perfect fit. She had transported for Trey, so she knew the routes from Houston to Atlanta. She said that she would agree to do it only if Q didn’t know about it and Fresh had assured her that he wouldn’t find out. Three weeks later, she had brought the product back. Fresh and Shamari worked well and got along even though he was Jada’s ex. After a month passed, Fresh invited Shamari to his home and poured him a glass of apple Ciroc.

  Fresh passed Shamari the shot of Ciroc and they sat in the living room. As they watched The people vs. OJ Simpson, Fresh said, “You know, Shamari. I like you a lot, man, and you seem a lot cooler than Black. I liked Black a lot. He showed me a lot about Atlanta, but Black only traveled in the fast lane, you know with him it was trap all night and chasing strippers and baby mama drama and I knew he was dealing with some crazy older bitch named TeTe. Black brought a lot of baggage.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  Fresh strolled to the other side of the room where there was a bag of weed on a table.

  He looked at Shamari. “Mind if I smoke?”

  “I could care less.”

  Fresh lit the Swisher, took a toke, and said, “Do you smoke?”

  “I used too.”

  “Look, I think I need to tell you something that Jada may or may not have told you.”

  Shamari’s eyebrow’s squished together. “What?”

  Fresh inhaled and coughed. Then coughed again. Then coughed again. He was smoking some powerful shit indeed. “First, I wanted to say I’m sorry how this whole thing went down with Jada and all. I mean, getting to know you really fucks with me. I didn’t know how cool you were. Had I known you before, this would have never happened.”

  “You wouldn’t have fucked my girl?”

  “I love her.”He inhaled the Swisher. “I’m sorry.”

  “No need to be. She’s not my girl. I cared about her. I wanted to be with her, but she made it clear that she didn’t want to fuck with me, so I had to move on.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you didn’t do anything that she didn’t allow you to do.”

  “Right.”

  Fresh sat back across from Shamari. He took possession of the remote and powered down the TV. He then deaded the swisher. “I’m on the run, bruh.”

  Shamari narrowed his eyes. Was he serious?

  “Yeah. I thought it was best that I tell you.”

  “On the run from what? Who?”

  “I’m wanted in Houston. I murdered two dudes that were going to kill me.”

  Shamari lips parted then he gasped.

  “I guess Jada didn’t tell you?”

  “She didn’t. What the fuck?”

  “I told her not to say anything.”

  “Did she tell you about my situation?”

  “She told me that you just got out.”

  “Exactly! which is why she could have at least told me.”

  “I told her not too. I’m sorry.”

  Shamari stood and strolled. Fresh cut him off. He stood in front of him and said, “Look, if it makes you feel any better, I want you to know I’m surrendering in a few weeks and I’ll let you meet the connect.”

  Shamari raised his eyebrows and said, “Why would you do that?”

  “I like you.”

  Shamari didn’t know whether he liked Fresh or not, but he did respect him for telling him that he was on the lam. He didn’t have to tell him shit.

  “Let me think about it.”

  As Shamari left, Shantelle entered. She greeted him but he said nothing.

  “What was his problem?”she asked.

  Fresh said, “I don’t know. He’s just having a bad day.”

  ***

  Dressed in a white backless dress that she’d ordered from Hot Miami Styles Ava pranced around the penthouse suite of the Four Seasons hotel like she was a queen. She was wondering who this high-profile client was. Though a lot of people probably would look down on her for her occupation choice, it was a means to an end. And she had to leave Charlotte. There were people that wanted her dead.

  She thought back to the day that she and her best friend, Shakira, and her boyfriend took the money from a drug lord that had trusted her. She knew that if Mario ever found her, she would be dead. She knew that they were still looking for her. A few months ago, she had posted a picture on Instagram of her and her sugar daddy, George, on the island of Santorini, and someone had commented that she was going to be a dead bitch. She had to make money so she could buy her a dream home and the nightclub she always wanted and hopefully meet a nice man that didn’t know about her past. But she had to act fast.

  She was elated that TeTe had decided that she could work for her. She had created a profile on those sugar daddy websites, and while it was effortless to get a man to splurge on her, they usually demanded a relationship and she didn’t want to fuck with those old, shriveled up, white men night after night. Working as a high-class escort was much easier. She had told TeTe that she desired athletes and dope boys, and if she had to go out of the country, she would travel to Abu Dhabi or Dubai.

  She would just get wasted, fuck the client and be on her way. There would be no hanging around, cuddling, toying with his old sagging balls smothered with gray pubic hair. Yuck! She wanted to puke just thinking about it. She strolled over to the curtain and peered into the Atlanta night then checked her watch. It was 7:44 p.m. Where the hell was the client? He was fourteen minutes late. She grabbed a bottle of Coke from the fridge. As she was about to open the bottle, the door opened and there he was—the client. A tall, gorgeous, black man with lustrous chocolate skin and sparkling white teeth. He was wearing a black Nike running suit and a pair of black Nike Huaraches.

  He closed the door then secured it with the gold chain attached to the door, and turned and said “Hi.”

  She stood and she recognized him right away—DeSean Cummings, the quarterback for the Atlanta Falcons. What the fuck was he doing here? Why was he buying pussy? Wasn’t he married? But it wasn’t her job to ask questions. She just smiled and said, “I’m Ava.”

  “I’m—.”

  “I know who you are.”

  He made direct eye contact with her. “You have to keep this under wraps.”

  “No problem. It’s my job.”

  He plopped on the bed and clasped his hands behind his head. “I bet you’re wondering why I’m here.”

  She smiled and said, “Not my place to wonder.”

  He said, “You’re even more beautiful in person than you are on the pictures.”

  “Thank you.”She blushed. She couldn’t believe it and she wanted to smile harder. She couldn’t believe that this multi- millionaire athlete was right here in her hotel room, telling her how great she looked.

  He said, “Why are you doing this?”

  “Huh?”

  “You know, like selling your body?”He crossed his arms.

  She shrugged her shoulders and said, “I dunno.”Though she knew exactly why she was selling her body.

  “I’m sure you could easily get a man to take care of you.”

  She took a swig from her Coke and said, “You don’t look like the type that needs to buy pussy either.”

  He laughed and said, “So you don’t drink?”

  “I do.”

  “What’s up with the Coke?”

  “I was waiting on you to get here and I guess I got thirsty.”

  “Let’s order some drinks.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Surprise me.”

  “I can go to the liquor store if you want. It’s cheaper.”

  “No, just order it from the bar. I really don’t need anyone knowing I’m here.”

  “I can go. You can stay here. I won’t tell anyone.”

  “Look, just order from room service. Don’t worry about the cost.”

  “Oh, excuse me, Mr. One-Hundred-Million-Dollar Man.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “How did you get in here without someone recognizing you?”

  “The freight elevator.”

  “When was the last time you were here.?”

  “Not in a while.”

  She called downstairs and ordered a bottle of Hennessy and a bottle of Patron. The liquor was delivered fifteen minutes later. After two drinks, they were both relaxed. She was lying on the bed next to him, massaging his chest, and he asked, “Do you smoke?”

  “Weed?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Sometimes. You got any?”

  He stood up and dug into his pocket. She lusted at his traps and his broad shoulders. She would have bet a million dollars there was an eight pack under his shirt. Greek God status for sure. She would have fucked him for free, but it would have to be another time. Right now she was here on business.

  He removed the Sour Diesel—pungent, frosty, light green buds that lit the whole room up.

  She said, “Don’t you get tested?”

  “Tested?”

  “For like drugs and stuff?”

  “The season is over, but yeah sometimes they test us randomly. I’m not worried though. I know how to pass the test.”

  “You want to throw all that money away taking a chance of being labeled as an addict?”

  He smiled and licked those beautiful ripe lips. She wanted to rip that goddamned Nike suit off his lean body. She wanted that man inside her.

  “That’s about the only thing they haven’t said about me this season.”

  “Huh?”

  “Do you even watch football?”

  “No.”

  “Well, how do you know me?”

  “Nike and Gatorade commercials.”

  “I had one of the worst years of my career. Statistically, I was the worst in every quarterback category so you won’t be seeing me on any commercials anytime soon.”He sighed then dumped those frosty buds into a cigar, before rolling a blunt.

  “You’re depressed.”

  “I’m not depressed.”

  “I think you are.”

  He looked annoyed and then said, “Well, if that’s what you want to call it.”

  “You have a lot to be thankful for.”

  “Do I? Like what? Besides having money and having to take care of every goddamned soul in my family. Not including my friends. This shit is a curse.”