"Answer me, Q?"

  He didn't answer. He strolled to the other side of the room and instead of using the button for the electric blinds, he pulled them back manually and glanced out into the city.

  "You're not going to answer me?"

  "Yes, we had sex. I'm not going to lie , but he was lying, he knew she was lying about the thong so he decided to lie too.

  "What?"

  "Who have you been sleeping with, Ms. Goody Two-Shoes."

  "I can't believe you asked me that. What kind of woman do you think I am?"

  "Hey, I just asked a question."

  "Q…I'll see you later, Q." She bee lined toward the door.

  Q wanted to run and jump in front of her and stop her but he decided against that. Instead, he yelled, "You're the one that wanted to take a break! What did you expect me to do?"

  "I expected you to do exactly what you did."

  "You know what, Starr. You don't know how to be loved. You're not ready for love. That's your problem. Come see me when you're ready to be loved."

  "Whatever, Q. Go fuck your little friend with her uppity ass."

  Chapter 22

  FBI agent Daniels showed up at Sasha's home right around 8 a.m. Daniels removed the hidden surveillance cameras from the smoke detectors and the hidden recording devices from the nightstand. She was relieved the investigation of her father was coming to an end and soon he would be arrested so she could achieve some sort of normalcy in her life. And even though he was a horrible monster of a man that had molested her since she was a little girl, she felt bittersweet about helping the Feds bring him down. As weird and disgusting as it seemed, she did love him.

  Daniels embraced her before she jerked away from him. He said, "I know this must have been hard for you, but you did the right thing. In time, you'll feel better."

  "You think so?"

  "I know so." He tried to embrace her again but she didn't allow it.

  "If this is all you need from me?"

  "Yes, this is all we need. You got him to admit that he was hiding the money. This is all that we need. We're going to get the grand jury to seek an indictment."

  "You think you're going to get it?"

  "It's almost certain that we're going to get it."

  Sasha smiled then asked, "Are you going to be able to help my friend out?"

  "Brooks?"

  "Yes."

  "I don't know, to be honest. We can try, but more than likely, he's stuck. Sasha, you were a victim and we wanted to help you. And that's all we're concerned about now."

  "But you said you would help."

  "We'll try. We can ask the AUSA if they would consider giving him a time cut. That's all we can ask for him."

  That's not the answer she wanted to hear and it was damn sure not the answer that Black wanted to hear. But it was an answer. She could tell Black, but there was nothing that she could do.

  * * * *

  Craig had injected fat taken from Fy-head's abdomen into her ass about a week ago, and it had been almost ten days since he'd given J-Will the money for the murder. The job had not been completed nor had he heard from anyone. The number that J-Will had given him was going straight to voice mail. Luckily for him, after he had performed the surgery on Fy-head, he'd taken her home so he had her home address.

  He decided to pay her a visit. He parked his car on the side of the road and as soon as he got out of the car, a police patrol car drove up. Before he could ask what the problem was, the two officers hopped out of the car, leaving the car in the middle of the road with the lights flashing. Both officers were six feet tall. One was an Asian with a goatee and the other was a black guy with a low haircut. The black officer looked like he spent most of his free time at the gym. His name tag identified him as Simmons and the Asian guy's name tag said Xiong.

  Simmons was chewing Bubble Yum. "So what are you doing over here?"

  "Going to visit a friend."

  "This is a drug infested neighborhood," Xiong said.

  "I didn't know that."

  "What's your friend's name?"

  "Cassandra."

  Xiong said, "Can I see your ID?"

  "My ID? For what? I haven't done anything!"

  Xiong looked at him and said, "You're going to lower your voice or else."

  "Or else what?"

  Simmons was standing there with a stupid-ass grin on his face, cracking his knuckles and blowing bubbles but didn't say a word. Craig glanced at the size of his ape-sized hands. Craig knew he was no match for the two officers.

  Craig made eye contact with Xiong and said, "Why do you want to see my ID?"

  Xiong stepped forward and when he and Craig were inches apart, he said, "Because…you… don't… belong … here."

  Simmons blew a huge bubble and when it popped, it stuck to his face. He removed it from his mustache with his index finger and said, "We said show us your ID and you can go on your way. If not, we're going to want to search your car."

  Craig laughed at the two asshole cops and said, "For what reason? There is absolutely no probable cause."

  "Oh yeah?" Xiong inched toward Craig's car, kneeled down and picked up a small Ziploc baggie with cocaine residue. He then made his way back over to Craig and glanced at the black officer. "Probable cause."

  "Not mine."

  "Who's going to believe you? White man in a black neighborhood. What the hell are you doing here?"

  Craig hadn't come to buy drugs, but he wasn't certain that his car was clean. He couldn't remember if he had drug paraphernalia in the car or not. He removed the license and handed it to the asshole cop who examined the license and handed it back to him

  "See how simple that was?" the cop said.

  "So where are you going?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Which house is your friend's?"

  Craig pointed to the green house. A man and a woman were on the porch smoking a cigarette and as soon as they noticed Craig pointing, they disappeared inside.

  Simmons started laughing and said, "He's going to the Ho house."

  "What?"

  Simmons popped his Bubble Yum and said, "Now, come on, bro. Don't act like you don't know that's a Ho house."

  "A whore house?"

  "You say whore house, I say Ho house. You say tomato I say to-mah-to."

  "Look, I don't know anything about that."

  "Sure you don't. Just let me tell you, if the vice raid that house, your ass is going to jail."

  The Asian cop turned to his partner and said, "Come on, let's go. The car is in the middle of the street."

  Seconds later, they jumped in the patrol car and screeched off with the lights still flashing.

  Craig got out of his car and headed for the house. When he reached the front door he rang the doorbell.

  A man answered the door. A different man than the one that had been smoking a cigarette earlier.

  The black man was about fifty, with graying hair. He was thin and had tired eyes. "How can I help you?" he asked.

  "I'm looking for Cassandra." Craig said.

  "What you want with Cassandra? Are you the police?"

  "Hell, no!"

  Seconds later, a fat ugly tranny with a face full of Mary Kay makeup and a blond wig appeared wearing a nightgown. An unlit Newport dangled from her mouth.

  "I saw his ass talking to the police. He's fucking Po-Po. Me and Bobby was out here smoking a cigarette and I saw his ass right there in the middle of the road talking to them. He's the fucking Po-Po, man."

  Craig didn't know what Po-Po meant but judging by the context of the sentence, he could only assume that Po-Po meant police, which probably was not good in this neighborhood.

  "What do you want?"

  "I'm just looking for Cassandra."

  "Don't no Cassandra live here."

  Craig knew they didn't believe him and why should they believe him. He didn't fit in over here. He was the white guy standing in the middle of the road that had just pointed out their house to the police.

  The tranny lit her Newport and said, "You need to get the hell away from here and get away from here fast."

  "I'm not a cop."

  The man named Bobby came out—the one that had been on the porch smoking earlier. Bobby was a skinny motherfucker with a huge nose and flaring nostrils that you could see into. He had the words Evil and Good tatted across his knuckles. Though he was skinny, he definitely didn't look like the kind of motherfucker you wanted to mess with.

  Bobby said, "The man asked for Cassandra; he must know her. White boy, how you know Cassandra? You been tricking on her?"

  "Oh no, no. Nothing like that."

  "Cassandra is HIV positive. Just in case you get the notion to do something like that."

  Craig said, "Can you tell me where she is?"

  "No, she don't live here no more. I was her boyfriend."

  "What do you mean was?"

  "We broke up."

  "Why?"

  "That's none of your business."

  "She's HIV?"

  "That's none of your business."

  "Y'all motherfuckers have run your goddamned mouths too much as it is. I told you this man is the Po-Po," the tranny proclaimed.

  "Can you tell me where she is?"

  "I don't know."

  "If you knew, would you tell me?"

  "Hell, no."

  This conversation was pointless as far as Craig was concerned. He said, "I'm going to leave now."

  He turned and started to walk away. He was halfway down the steps of the porch when the man named Bobby approached and put a knife to his back. "Not before you leave something."

  "Like what?"

  "Your wallet."

  Craig removed his wallet. "I only have sixty dollars."

  "Give me the goddamned money and shut the fuck up if you want to make it out of here alive."

  Craig complied. He was halfway to his car when he wondered whether they still thought he was the Po-Po.

  Chapter 23

  The mayor staggered into Sasha's condo and she was surprised that he was still on the street. She had expected them to have picked him up by now. She didn't know how the Feds worked, but she had given them the evidence. She had expected someone from the family to call her and tell her that her daddy had been arrested, but instead, he was right here in her place.

  His necktie was loose and his eyes were glassy. She could only assume that he had been drinking. She knew that look.

  They stared at each other for a long time before he said, "You got something to drink in here?"

  "There is a bottle of Skyy in the cabinet."

  "What's that?"

  "Vodka."

  He stumbled his ass over to the counter and snatched a shot glass from the counter. He poured himself a shot of Skyy and downed it with one swift drink. "You know all I ever did for you was—" He stopped then he looked under the lampshade and scanned the area.

  "What are you looking for?"

  "Bugs and cameras. You know some people like to play around with bugs, wires and secret cameras." He grinned.

  "What are you talking about?

  "Oh, you know what I'm talking about. You know damn well what I'm talking about."

  She sat on the sofa and watched him closely as he almost knocked over the coffee table.

  "Watch where you're going!"

  "You don't tell me what the fuck to do. I tell you what to do." He plopped down on the sofa beside her and stared at her with those glassy eyes and said, "Why did you do it to me?"

  "Do what?"

  "Don't play dumb, bitch."

  She tried to ease away but he gripped her wrist and wouldn't let go of it. It was like he had a vice grip on her wrist. She struggled with him but couldn't break free. She used her other hand to try to pry his fingers off her wrist but she couldn't.

  "Didn't I give you everything that you ever wanted?"

  "You ruined my life is what you did."

  "I ruined your life?" He laughed. "You're the one that wants me to spend my life in a living hell!"

  "And you made my life a living hell. How do you think I felt? I'm a thirty-year-old woman that can't have a relationship. Never been in love. Addicted to all sorts of weirdo sex because I have been molested and basically controlled since I was old enough to remember. Let go of my wrist." She tried to shake free from his grip again but couldn't.

  "You set me up, bitch, and you didn't think that I was going to find out? What the fuck? Did you think I was stupid?"

  "I have no idea what you're talking about."

  "Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about." She kicked him hard on his shin but he still held on to her. Then he pushed her to the floor and pinned her down with both hands. She fought hard with knees and kicks. He ripped her shirt off, exposing her chest.

  He placed his vodka smelling mouth on her lips and said, "Give me a kiss."

  She resisted and turning her head. Every time he did this, she felt disgusted, and this time, she felt even more disgusted. She spat in his face and he backhanded the fuck out of her. Blood sputtered from her nose down into her mouth like a faucet. He ripped her skirt off and now she was naked except for a pair of electric-blue lace panties.

  "No good ho is what you are."

  He ripped her panties off and she was naked. She kept struggling, and finally, she broke free and he chased her into the corner. He raised his hands to slap the fuck out of her but she flinched and he grabbed her by the throat and began to strangle her. Then he leaned forward and he met her mouth again. This time, despite the strong vodka stench, she didn't resist. She kissed him passionately like she would do to any of her past lovers. There was a look in her eye that he'd seen so many times before. He loosened his tie and she helped him unbutton his shirt. The pants came off and moments later, the boxers. He stood there butt naked, except for a pair of black church socks. His tiny uncircumcised penis pointing at her.

  Nothing about this man made any sense to her. He knew that she had flipped on him to the Feds, but he still wanted to fuck her.

  He leaned into her and kissed her. He picked her up and fell with her on the sofa. He was on top of her and they made eye contact. He jugged his fingers into her tight pussy. He was fingering her, trying to get her wet. She wanted to vomit every time he touched her down there.

  A look of disappointment came over his face. She had gotten a waxing earlier, hoping that she could convince Black to come over and fuck the shit out her. But her Daddy didn't like it bald. He was old school and he hated it bald, but it was ironic because when he first started touching her she was bald as a baby's head.

  She closed her eyes in an attempt to block out what was happening to her. He was rubbing his dick on her thigh, and then seconds later, he was inside her. She felt him thrust.

  He said, "Open your eyes."

  He always wanted her to open her eyes and this is what she hated most. She hated looking at him. She had his nose and his mouth and almost none of her mother's features. How can a man that gave her so much of himself, take so much away from her?

  She opened her eyes and made eye contact with him. His eyes were pink from the liquor and there was dried-up saliva on the side of his mouth. He thrusted and thrusted until she watched him go into convulsions as he came inside of her.

  Once he finished, he got up, his dick swinging wildly, as he eased back into the kitchen. He got the bottle of vodka and brought it into the living room. He sat on the sofa, still butt naked except for those stupid-ass church socks pulled all the way up to his knees.

  He said, "I guess it's over for me. I'm going to prison for a very long time."

  And he downed two more shots of liquor.

  She stood and slid back into her panties. He was staring at her body in admiration and when she noticed, she thought to herself, God don't let him go for round two.

  He stood and poured himself another shot. Just as he sat down, the glass slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor.

  "Motherfucker," he exclaimed and he dropped to his knees to pick up the tiny glass bits that covered the floor.

  Sasha made her way over to the floor. Her instincts told her to get a broom to clean up the mess. Instead, she picked up the Skyy bottle from the coffee table and she tried her best to crack his motherfucking cranium. The bottle shattered and knocked his ass out instantly. He was lying in a pool of blood. She checked his pulse. He was still breathing.

  She walked over to where his pants were and dug inside his pants pockets. She was going to take his keys with her but she was shocked to find a 9mm gun with a silencer on it. He had come to take her life. It was time to get missing. She was sure there were people who wanted her dead.

  Chapter 24

  When Q fired his engine up, Future's Dirty Sprite 2 blared through the speakers. He lowered the volume in a hurry and put it on something milder. Every time he got in his car after DeMontre had driven it, he knew what to expect—trap music to be blasting.

  There was supposed to be thirty-nine hundred dollars under the armrest. He had put it aside for some tires that he was going to buy, but when he'd gotten to the rim shop, the guy told him that the rims didn't hadn't come in. When he offered to pay, the man told him to just hold on to his money. He remembered putting the cash under the armrest and now it was gone. He called DeMontre.

  "Hey, Uncle Q."

  "Did you see some money under the armrest?'

  "No, all I saw was some mail. Why? Is there money missing?"

  "I don't know yet."

  "How much are you looking for?"

  "Close to four thousand dollars."

  "Oh hell, naw. I ain't seen money like that Uncle Q."

  "I was just asking, bruh. I didn't accuse you of anything."

  "Okay as long as you know I ain't do it."

  "Who washed the car?" Q said. He opened the glove compartment and there was no sign of the money in there either.

  "I washed the car. Why do you ask?"

  "I was thinking that maybe you took the car to a car wash and maybe someone from the car wash took the money."

  "No, I washed it myself."

  "Okay, I'll keep looking for it and if I find it, I will call you."