A Gangster's Girl (10 page)

Things slowly came together as the months passed. I attended court with Vegas for the case he had in Virginia Beach Juvenile Domestic Court. “Karen White versus Laymont Jackson” the court clerk announced.

As I walked in, I noticed a much older woman with a child who looked at least twelve years old.
Now I know Vegas was a male whore in his younger days, but this is ridiculous. In fact, it's virtually impossible,
I thought as they brought Vegas from the back holding cell and stood him in front of the judge. Then the judge explained that they were there for child support. Vegas looked back at me pitifully and I glared at him with a look of death. While the judge spoke, the woman looked at Vegas as if she was in a state of confusion.

“This in not my child's father. I'm here to collect back child support from Laymont Jackson,” the woman said after the judge finished speaking.

“That is Laymont Jackson,” the judge responded.

As it turned out, the courts had subpoenaed the wrong Laymont Jackson. Vegas was telling the truth. He didn't know that woman after all. I felt so bad that I had doubted him. I should have trusted him. I watched as the deputy took him away in shackles. He looked at me and gave me that same mesmerizing smile from the first day we met and whispered, “Catch my heart.”

Tears rolled from my eyes as I blew him a kiss and mouthed the words “I love you.”

For the first time in months, I felt like I loved Vegas and missed him. I had so much anger and frustration inside of me over the past few months that I nearly forgot what it was like to love.

Things with India were continuously progressing. She returned to work, and with Charlotte's help, she got over Samuel as well. After the shooting at the condo, everything came together. The masked person from that night was a female by the name of Chantelli. She was one of Samuel's soldiers. It was the same girl India had seen in the restaurant that night. We slipped up when we went to our favorite restaurant. Samuel knew India would end up there eventually so he had the girl stake out the place for weeks until we showed up.

We soon found out that Samuel's brother was the culprit behind all the hysteria. He was jealous of Samuel's success, so he set him up. He knew if Samuel was killed or jailed, the empire would be passed on to him. Therefore, he contacted the authorities and gave them leads on a number of murders. Then, he gave them the cue for the arrest. Because he was Samuel's brother, he knew there were only a few instances when Samuel would be alone. Usually Samuel was surrounded by his soldiers and they were always ready for war. However, his brother knew Samuel had one thing he did alone, and that was sex. So, when Samuel was in the act, his brother gave the signal. The police rushed in and caught him with his pants down, literally. He was standing ass naked, with penis strong, getting what seemed to be the head of a lifetime.

We were surprised to learn a bootie boy was giving the head he was receiving. Who would have ever thought the don dada would be getting sucked off by a homo? That's why he was alone. He was so afraid of someone finding out about his secret life that he would risk his safety and send his soldiers away. Any good kingpin would have known that would be his downfall.

India was infuriated by Samuel's infidelity. She wanted to get even. She wanted him to pay dearly for breaking her heart. She had put her career and her life in danger by doing the money exchange for him. She was even going to leave the States, move to Jamaica, and marry Samuel. And to think the entire time he had a secret life. He had to pay.

India asked that I lay an evil cloud above his head for the misery and pain she suffered. The evil spells of voodoo were not something I usually practiced, but I agreed. The smell of cinnamon was in the air as I did the wicked trickery. The empire of his family would surely fall and his soul along with it.

Tionna and Jonathan decided to get married. They were planning a huge wedding at the botanical gardens in Norfolk. Tionna arranged for a wedding party of at least fifteen and invited five hundred guests. They would spend their honeymoon in Paris. I was so happy for Tionna. She deserved Jonathan, the wedding, and the honeymoon. She was dealt bad hands her whole life, and it was finally her turn to be blessed.

Although they were not granted the right to adopt Tonya's little boy, she was still happy. The adoption agency felt the circumstances by which the child was conceived did not make Tionna the best candidate for the adoption. They did grant the adoption to her uncle, though. We were just happy the child was going to be raised by a family member. Tionna and Jonathan had plans of their own to have a child. With Jonathan being a gynecologist, he did plenty of research on a number of studies about infertility. He arranged for Tionna to try infertility pills, injections, and if neither of those methods work, in vitro fertilization.

Once they got married, they were planning to move to Atlanta. Jonathan landed a job with the Centers for Disease Control and Tionna wanted a new start. Her life was finally on the path we all dreamed of and we wished her well.

As the days passed, I continued missing Vegas more and more. Each weekend I would travel one hundred miles to visit him. I hated the constant struggle with the deputies every weekend. First, all the visitors lined up to be sniffed by a dog. Then, the butch female deputies sexually harassed us. Each week one particular female deputy would give me a hard time. I don't know what it was about me, but she just did not like me.

I wouldn't be surprised if she was fucking Vegas
, I would think to myself each weekend.

One visit she had the audacity to say, “Excuse me, ma'am. Do you have a thong on?”

I looked at her with a cold stare and said, “No, I do not.”

In fact, I had no panties on at all. It took all I had to keep from smacking the color off her face.

After the harassment session, we were seated on hard folding chairs as we waited for our loved ones to come out. Even though I went through hell to see Vegas, I enjoyed each visit.

I was always dressed for easy access. Vegas had it worked out with the correctional officers to simply ignore us when we went into the broom closet during each visit. The closet was about the size of a bathroom—just the right size for a quickie. Vegas would unfold the chair that was conveniently placed in the closet, pull down his pants, and sit with his penis at attention. That was my cue to pull up my skirt and hop right on it. I would ride him until he released inside me. It was amazing all the positions we could do in that chair. Vegas' favorite position was when I would sit on his penis facing away from him, grab my ankles, and bounce up and down. He loved to see my ass bounce while he watched his penis disappear deep inside my vagina. After our quick session, our visit was over and I was on the road home.

I would immediately run to the car to retrieve the wet wipes and panties that I had waiting. I would clean myself up, put on the fresh pair of panties, and hit the road. After a few visits, I was used to the drive and made it home with no problem.

Thanksgiving finally rolled around and it was time for me to take that dreaded trip to New York to see my father. The flight was smooth and I figured it would probably be the highlight of my entire trip. I knew hell was waiting. When I arrived at the airport, old blondie herself was waiting. “Hel-lo,” I greeted sarcastically. Before she could even return the greeting, the drama began. “Darling, you look terrible. Was your flight here okay?”

“Yeah, the flight was kind of rough, so what's your excuse?” I glared at her. Even though the flight was fine, I needed a comeback.

During the entire drive to the house, she quizzed me.

“How are things back home? Did that boyfriend of yours get out of prison yet? How is your mother? Is she still caring for sick poor people at that city hospital?”

A look of disgust crossed my face as she blabbed on and on. When she finally took a breath, I got my chance to fire back.

“Life at home is great. The business is doing well, and Vegas will be home soon. And as far as my mother is concerned, that's none of your business. Now, if you would like to know how things were before you became my father's mistress, I can certainly tell you about that.”

I would never tell that wench anything she could use to belittle me. She did everything she could to make me look bad and make herself look good. That's the only way she could lift herself up, because in reality, she was nothing without my dad.

It was cold and windy as I walked to the front door of my father's house. The butler met me and quickly took my coat. The house was warm and I could smell the aroma of fresh brewed coffee. I was shown to “my quarters” as the balding butler said in an English accent. The room was huge but not very welcoming. I don't know who my dad used as his interior decorator, but from the looks of things, I'm sure the dumb blonde had a lot to do with it. I felt like I was walking into a barn. The theme of the room was antique country, and it was disgusting. I felt like singing old MacDonald as I entered. There was definitely a moo-moo here and a quack-quack there. There were farm animals everywhere—the wallpaper border, linens, and even the pictures on the wall.

Once I was settled, I decided to give Carmin a call. She was in New York preparing for a Thanksgiving fashion show for the stars. I was glad she was close by to provide me relief from the Addam's family.

“Carmin's Creations,” she said as she answered the phone.

“Hey girl! Where's the party at tonight?” I said, surprising her.

“Ceazia Devereaux! What the hell is going on?” Carmin excitedly responded “You know the fashion show is on Thanksgiving, so I'm gonna be really busy. But I'll pick you up and we'll go to the show and then the after party. I have someone I want you to meet.”

Carmin knew damn well I wasn't trying to meet nobody.

“Don't nobody want to meet no possessive ass ‘I want you and my girl plus my man's girl' type nigga,” I complained.

“I'll be there at eight. Dress to impress,” Carmin said, ignoring my statement.

“A'ight girl,” I simply said, and with that, we hung up.

Just then, the butler knocked at the door. “The man of the house would like you in his presence.”

“And where might that man's presence be?” I laughed and said in a mocking voice.

He directed me down a long hall to my father's study. My father sat behind a huge maple wood desk in a burgundy leather chair reading a newspaper. When I entered, he looked over his glasses.

“Hi, darling. How are you?” he asked.

He seemed happy to see me, but I'll never know if it was genuine. My father had changed so much. He acted like he had a stick up his ass. He was such a stiff. When he lived with my mother and me, he didn't speak the way he does now, he didn't dress the way he does now, and he definitely didn't have the same taste in women. Who said money doesn't change people?

I gave my father a big hug. I really did miss him, even though he did so much to hurt me. I told him about everything that was going on at home. He was really bothered that his baby girl was surrounded by such drama. He gave me a long lecture on how I should move to New York so that I could be closer to him and he could protect me.

If I'm gonna end up anything like you, I definitely don't want to move
, I thought.

The next day, I woke up to breakfast in bed. The maid knocked on my door.

“Breakfast, Ms. Devereaux.”

I looked over at the clock and it read 7:00
A.M.

“Come in,” I said, still half asleep.

The maid walked in with a tray that consisted of breakfast, a newspaper, and a carnation. It instantly brought back memories of Cancun.

“Thank you,” I said as she turned to leave. I barely touched the food as I cried. I thought of the wonderful times Vegas and I had in Mexico and how much I missed him. It had been four months since Vegas was locked up and I felt so alone.

“Who in the hell is calling me so early? I looked at the caller ID on my cell phone. “Carmin. What the hell does she want so early in the morning?” I grumbled. “Hello.”

“C, wake up.”

“I am awake, and what do you want so early?” I said as I plucked the crust from my eyes.

“I'm headed to a video shoot and I want you to meet the artist. I'm on my way to get you now. Get dressed!”

Knowing that putting up an argument would be useless, I dragged myself out of bed and got dressed. Thirty minutes later, Carmin was out front and honking her horn. It didn't take long for us to arrive at the location of the shoot. It was just as I imagined: cameras, half-dressed chicks, make-up artists, and lots of wannabes.

“There's Cobra,” Carmin said as she grabbed my arm and pulled me along.

“What up, Carm? Who's that you got with you?” The dark, bald guy asked in a deep, scratchy voice. I really wasn't interested in entertaining this guy or his entourage, but I spoke up for Carmin's sake.

“I'm Ceazia, but you can call me C.”

“Okay. Nice to meet you, C.”

As he was speaking, I noticed one of his boys who stood apart from everyone else. He seemed to be in a deep phone conversation, but he was constantly giving me the eye. I pretended not to notice and walked over to the refreshment table for bottled water. That was the only escape from Cobra. Carmin walked over soon after me.

“So what do you think, girl?”

“I think I'm not interested. But his boy, the one with the dreads, Lakers throwback, and baby blue Pradas . . . he can get it,” I responded.

“Damn, girl, you were watching him like that?”

“Don't front, Carmin. You know how we do. It doesn't take but five seconds to do a complete rundown and calculation of net worth, deductions already included!”

“Okaaaaayyyyy!” we both shouted in our best sista girl voices as we gave each other a high-five.

The video shoot was long and tiring. I could have sworn they shot each scene at least ten times. It lasted until ten at night. Afterwards, we all decided to meet at Club Inferno at midnight. The limo brought us right to the front and we walked in. The club was jumping! People were packed shoulder to shoulder as we squeezed our way to the VIP section. We sat amongst Cobra and his crew. I made it my business to sit as close as possible to the dread-wearing brotha from earlier. The waitress brought over bottles of Cristal back to back. That's when he finally spoke.

“Ya want a drink, gal?”

“Aye, do ya ‘ear me, gal? Ya want a drink?”

I was so mesmerized I forgot to respond.

“Yes, I do. I would like a screwdriver,” I said in my most seductive voice as I gave him the eye. It was as if he didn't even notice as he ordered the drink for me.

“I don't know what his problem is, but I am the hottest chick in here,” I whispered to Carmin. “He can't front but for so long. I will have him by the end of the night.”

As the night went on, I did everything I could to get his attention without making it too obvious. I bent over the table to speak to Carmin so that my breasts would be clearly visible. I crossed my legs so that the split in my dress would show thigh up to my hip, and I even started small talk with him first. Nevertheless, he still seemed unmoved. I was finally fed up with this Rasta, so I decided to go find Carmin. In no time, I found her at the bar talking with a few Spanish girls. I noticed one girl staring at me, so I decided to break in the conversation and get Carmin's attention.

“Excuse me. Carmin, I need to speak to you for a second.”

“Hey, girl! Let me introduce you to my girls. Everyone this is my girl, Ceazia. C, this is Maritza, Chloe, Lachele, and Arizelli.”

Arizelli, Arizelli. Why does that sound familiar?
I wondered as I looked at the girl and tried to put a face with the name. She smiled at me seductively. My confusion must have been obvious, because Carmin began shaking my shoulder and shouting.

“C . . . C . . . You all right? What the hell you been drinking, girl?”

That's when it hit me.
Cancun . . . Arizelli. I know it's a small world, but how the hell did this happen
?

“Hellooooo . . . Ceazia?” Carmin was still trying to get my attention.

“Oh, I'm sorry, girl. My head is just spinning. I think it's from mixing those drinks. I just came over to tell you I'm giving up on the Rasta. For some reason, he's just not feeling me.”

“What? Nah, there has got to be something up. I'll be over there in a minute. You need to sit down and sober up a little.”

As I walked away, I noticed Carmin grabbing Arizelli around the waist as they whispered in each other's ears.

I returned to a seat far from Donovan, the Rasta. I made it a point not to notice him or acknowledge his presence at all. Then, just as the night was starting to get boring, the DJ began to play reggae and the party was on.

“Come down, selecta!” I heard a voice yell.

It was Donovan, and he was once again turning me on. Each time the DJ played a rhythm the crowd liked, Donovan would throw his fingers up and yell, “Buk, buk, buk, buk,” while banging his Guinness bottle against the table.

I was feeling nice and having a ball. When the DJ played Sean Paul's “Gimme the Light,” I jumped to my feet and started to wind. Everyone stared as I moved to the West Indian tunes. Out of nowhere, someone came behind me and began to dance along. I turned around and smiled when I realized it was Donovan.

“Ya dance like a yahd gal,” he whispered in my ear.

I did it. I finally did it. If I had known all I had to do was wind, he would have been mine a long time ago,
I thought as I continued to dance even more seductively.

“Thanks, but no yardie taught me these moves,” I said as I walked out of my wind and into the steps of Spragga Benz. Dancing was my drop, so if that's what he wanted, then that's what I was giving. I did every dance move I could think of. By the end of the night, he was eating out of the palm of my hand.

“Dancehall princess, come ‘ere. I want ta speak wit' ya,” he said as I took a break to sip on my drink. I sat beside him.

“Dancehall princess?” I questioned.

“True. Ya move dem crowd. It's like a wicked spell.”

“Oh, that's what it is?” I responded sarcastically.

“I not know the trickery of ya Creole gal. You wind up me heart with that evil art.”

Listening to Donovan was like interpreting Shakespeare, but I did well with my interpretations.

“Are you insinuating I used voodoo to put you in a trance through my dancing?”

“Ya, mon. I notice at first glance ya to be wed, so I stand clear. But now, like a magnet, you're near.”

I don't know if it was the drinks or what, but the more he talked, the more he sounded like a reggae song. I had to clear my head, so I excused myself.

“I'm sorry, but I'm feeling a little sick. I'm going to get a bottled water.”

“Take dis, keep da change.”

I walked away and headed back to the bar. As I got closer, I could see Carmin still chatting with Arizelli. She kissed her on her lips and began to walk in my direction.

Oh my goodness, Carmin is gay! What do I do? Does she know I just saw that? I don't know if I'm ready to have this conversation with Carmin.
But before I could decide what to do, Carmin and I were face to face.

“Hey, girl. I thought you were going to come back over to VIP with me earlier,” I said nervously.

“Well, reggae came on, so I knew you would be fine. How long have you been standing here?”

“Not long. I mean, I just started walking this way.”

“Ceazia,” Carmin said as if she knew I was lying, “follow me. I need to introduce you to someone.” We headed back toward the bar with the same girls.

“Okay, Carm, I think you had too much to drink now. Ummmm, you introduced me to all these girls earlier,” I said.

“I know, but I really need to explain some things about one girl in particular.”

Once we reached the bar, she grabbed Arizelli by the hand and we all went back to the VIP section. To my surprise, Cobra and his crew all knew Arizelli. This was getting weirder by the minute. We all sat down and Carmin began to explain.

“Ceazia, Arizelli is more than just a friend to me. She is my lover.”