The Cocaine Princess Part 5 (Cocaine Princess Series #5)(67)

“That boy needs counseling,” Rita said.

Shaking his head, Frederick pushed a cup into Rita’s hand, popped open the gold bottle of Ace of Spades, and filled both cups with the smooth intoxicant. “What he needs is your daughter. Alexus is the only person he’ll listen to.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but that’s not going to happen. I won’t let it.” Rita took a step back and crossed her arms defensively. “T-Walk and Alexus were meant for each other. She’s happier than she’s ever been. T-Walk’s with her and the baby every day and night, like a real man’s supposed to be, and he’s the most talked about black man in Hollywood. In fact, he’s the one who’s directing and producing the movie I was just telling you about. There’s no way I’d allow my daughter to take Blake back into her home. I absolutely refuse to let that man influence my grandson with his gangster ideologies.”

Frederick turned around and leaned back against the window, smiling at Rita’s resolute frown. The soft glow of her desk lamp illuminated her curvaceous figure, exacerbating her fiercely determined expression.

“Stop smiling at me,” she said, and swallowed her drink in two gulps.

“You look so sexy in that dress.”

“Don’t try to change the subject.”

“I’m serious. You look amazing.”

Rita glanced down at her fuchsia-colored dress. “For thirty thousand dollars, I’d better look like something,” she muttered.

Her iPhone started rattling around on her desk. She walked over and put it on speakerphone, smiling coyly as she noticed that Fred’s eyes were stapled to her voluminous backside.

But the panic-stricken tone of her daughter’s voice wiped the smirk away and replaced it with a straight-lipped worry.

“Hello? Momma?” Alexus sounded like she was crying.

“What’s wrong with you? Are you okay? Is it the baby?”

“No, King’s fine. I just--I need you to be careful, Momma We think Aunt Jenny may be back in the country, and she might have brought a nuclear weapon with her.”

“A nuclear weapon?” Rita’s heart sank faster than her body as she dropped down into her leather Fendi swivel chair. “I thought the FBI had permanently banned her from the United States?”

“They did. But she’s been missing since the day those men tried to assassinate Mercedes.”

“Somebody tried to kill Mercedes?”

“It’s a long story,” Alexus said with a sigh. “I’ll send someone over to pick you up in a few minutes. I’m at Blake’s house.”

“What?!” Rita regarded Fred with an accusatory scowl.

“Don’t worry, Momma. It’s not what you think. I’m here with Papi and Uncle Flako. Blake probably won’t even make it home tonight. If he does, I’ll make him sleep in the guest house.”

It was Rita’s turn to sigh, and hers was a sigh of relief. She wanted to ask Alexus why they had chosen to stay at Blake’s place, but the grim possibility of a nuclear weapon in Jenny Costilla’s possession took precedence over that frivolous question.

“I’m still at the office,” Rita said. “Just sit tight, okay? Fred and I will be there in--” She paused for a long moment, and an icy chill raced down her spine. Alexus got quiet too.

Rita’s last two lovers—Neal Miller and Nat Turner—had both been killed by the Costillas; bringing Frederick around them was too much of a risk.

“I’ll be there shortly,” she finally said.

“Good idea,” Alexus caught on quick. A couple of seconds later, she said, “I, uh, watched your show earlier today. That was a good interview you did with Kerry Washington.”

Suddenly, Frederick walked up behind Rita and started kissing on the side of her neck. He sat his bottle and cup on the desk, then kissed her neck again, filling his palms with her heavy breasts.

“I… have to go, Alexus,” Rita said as Frederick spun her chair around and kneeled in front of her. He pushed up her dress, saw that she wasn’t wearing any panties, and immediately went to work sucking and licking her clit, shifting his incredibly flexible tongue in different shapes and sizes.

“I love you, Momma,” Alexus said. “Please be safe, okay? If you see anyone following you, call that FBI agent right away and tell him what’s going on.”

“Oh… okay. Love you, too.” Rita ended the call abruptly.

Leaning back in her swivel, she dug her fingers into Fred’s thick crop of hair—a Dr. Cornel West-like afro—and let out a tremulous moan.

*****

Down in the lobby, a fifty-something black male janitor was busy buffing the floor and listening to Al Green’s “Love And Happiness” via a pair of Beats by Dre headphones when he looked up and saw the pretty Hispanic woman. She was knocking frantically on the steel-framed glass door, her shoulders bunched against the gelid winds.

The janitor pushed the headphones down around his neck. “Doors don’t open till six a.m.,” he shouted, turning off the buffer. He walked to the door. “You hear me? I said the doors don’t open till six. Come back then.”

“Restroom?” The lady asked.

“Can’t.”

“Not even for a hundred bucks?” She reached in her coat pocket and pulled out a bankroll.