The Cocaine Princess Part 5 (Cocaine Princess Series #5)(33)

“Rita, what you need to understand is—”

“Call me Rita Mae.”

“Rita Mae. There are virtually no jobs in poor black communities. Those kids are out there starving. None of their family members are doing well. They’re killing each other at the drop of a dime because they’re so broke that they no longer care about life. Blake used to be just like them. He’s not leaving the ghetto for Hollywood. He’s far too real and loyal to his roots to do that.”

“Still, though…he shouldn’t be glorifying drug-dealing.”

“Do you know how many U.S. companies are selling poison legally every single day? Look at how many people die every year from using tobacco products? Isn’t that poison? How is it illegal to smoke marijuana, which is perfectly harmless, yet it’s okay to smoke another plant that’ll probably give you a thousand different kinds of cancers?”

Rita Mae suddenly looked up from her plate and smiled a Colgate smile. She leaned forward, cupping her left hand around her neck. “There is nothing I can say to make you view Blake differently is there?”

“Nope,” Fredrick chuckled. “I’m riding this MBM train till the wheels fall off. We’re building an empire. Loyalty is the glue that holds empires together.”

“Well…there is something else I’d like you to be aware of before we…go any further.” Her smile vanished. “Last year, I got engaged to an MTN News anchorman named Nat Turner.”

He nodded his head knowingly. “I remember. The guy went crazy after his family was found dismembered in their Virginia home. He killed fifty-five Mexicans in Southampton, Virginia. Deadliest shooting since Virginia Tech. They say he hung himself before the authorities could capture him. November eleventh, I believe it was.”

“Okay, clearly you’ve been misinformed. But I’ll get to that in a second. The man I was with before Nat—Neal Miller, a homicide detective—is also dead. First he was paralyzed when Jennifer Costilla detonated a bomb on my doorstep, then he was killed when she hired a group of al Qaeda members to hijack an airplane and crash it into Alexus’ old beach house in Miami.”

“I remember that, too. Flights were canceled nationwide.”

Rita Mae sipped from her champagne flute. Ten silent seconds ticked by.

“So what you’re saying is…?” Fredrick asked.

“I’m bad luck. Jennifer’s out of prison and laying low somewhere in Mexico, but she could very easily come after me again. Papi killed Nat because he wants me to stay single if I’m not with him. He doesn’t really mind if I’m in a single relationship with someone. Anything more, though—an engagement ring, marriage plans—there’s no telling how he’ll take it.”

“Papi’s a killer?” He laughed. “Are you kidding me? He’s an old man, sixty something years old.”

It was Rita Mae Bishop’s turn to laugh; though hers was not an incredulous one. She sounded nervous.

“You don’t know Papi,” she said, and downed the remainder of her drink.





Chapter 21

Club LIV, Miami, Florida

‘How did I know this was going to happen,’ Alexus thought. Arms folded, she squinted at Trintino Walkson as he walked into the VIP section where she and her girls were seated. Her annoyance was palpable; she contemplated picking up one of the many bottles of Moscato Rosé from the table in front of her and cracking Tasia over the head with it.

“Tasia, I f*cking hate you,” she hissed, jamming her right elbow into Tasia’s ribcage. “You called and told him I was here, didn’t you?”

A guilty snicker burst from Tasia’s mouth.

T-Walk was dressed in an expensive light-blue suit. His handsome mulatto face was one big smile. The three men following behind him were also wearing expensive suits, and they all had braids. T-Walk was the only one with short hair, 360-degree waves.

“Daaaaaamn, girl,” Mercedes crooned lustfully from Alexus’ left side. “Who is that sexy-ass nigga? The one in the baby blue.”

“That’s T-Walk,” was all Alexus had to say. She’d already told her sister about her past relationship with Trintino, and that there was still a fifty-percent chance of him being King Neal’s father.

“You didn’t tell me he was that fine. He got a brother?” Mercedes japed.

Trey Songz and Waka Flocka’s “I Don’t Really Care” was blasting throughout the club, and T-Walk somehow managed to move to the beat as he swaggered over to Alexus, stopping to personally greet every girl in her section. When he finally made it to Alexus, she reluctantly stood up and hugged him, holding her breath in an effort to keep his enticing cologne from soaking her panties as he pulled her against his hard chest.

“You could’ve at least sent me an e-mail letting me know you were in town,” he muttered, taking a step back and resting his hands on her shoulders. His contagious smile infected her, and she smiled back. “If only you knew what that smile does to me, Lexi.”

“Nice to see you, too,” Alexus mumbled.

‘Shit,’ she thought. His scent was in her nose; her * started to palpitate, her pencil eraser-shaped nipples grew stiff.

Abruptly, she returned to her seat.

“You can’t be touching on me like that in public,” she said. “Look at how many people are aiming their smartphones over here. Those pics and videos will be on YouTube tonight and TMZ in the morning. They’re probably already on Facebook and Twitter.”