Beautiful Liar (11 page)

“And what’s my reason?”

“Well,” she said, observing his clothes,
“it’s obvious you just attended a funeral. Who died, if you don’t
mind me asking?”

Ray stirred his drink a full minute before he
answered her.

“A friend of mine.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Was y’all
close?”

“We were cool. She dealt with my
partner.”

“Oh, my. I know that he’s feeling crummy
right now.”

“Ha! Hardly.”

The bartender brought the woman’s drink.
“There you go, ma’am.”

“Thanks. Can you make sure that you come back
in ten minutes to check on us? We’re both going through
something.”

“Will do.”

The woman frowned when she tasted her drink.
“Whoa! Stronger than what I’m used to. By the way, what’s your
name?”

Ray hesitated and the woman placed a hand on
his. “You know what? Forget that I asked you that. Names don’t
matter tonight. We’re just two troubled souls that want to drink
our pain away.”

Ray liked the sound of that because he knew
that Debbie would scream bloody murder if it got back to her he was
drinking in a bar with another female. She had made it very clear
from the beginning she viewed talking to another woman as cheating.
But the idea of venting to a complete stranger who could possibly
offer some unbiased advice, seemed too attractive for him to pass
up. He faced her and told her all about his famous friend.

“We’re going to get caught,” Vanessa said,
pushing Cairo’s hand away.

“You know I can’t do nothing. I just want to
see them.”

“Boy, you nasty.”

The singer briefly lifted her shirt to reveal
her firm D-cups, making Cairo smile in satisfaction. “I can’t wait
until my shit gets back right. We’re going to Italy for a week or
two. Have you ever been?” he asked.

“You know my money ain’t right like that yet.
But wait ‘til my album drops. I’m going to tour the world.”

“As long as you’re my baby, your money will
always be right. We can tour at any given time.”

She melted. “You’re so sweet.”

“I’m not trying to be. I’m just being me.
Plus, I really dig you like that. For real, for real. I hate that
JD signed you before I started my record label. I would’ve made it
my business to make you a star.”

“I like you a lot also, but…”

“But, what?”

“I know this is going to sound crazy, but I
think that you got too much money for me.”

He frowned. “Yeah, that does sound crazy. I’m
lost.”

“What I mean is, what if those same guys that
shot you try to rob you again? It’s a miracle that you survived ten
shots.”

“Ten shots can’t kill me,” he boasted. “I’m
too pretty to die.”

“It’s not a joke. I’m really scared.”

“Don’t be.” He consoled her. “They’re not
going to mess with me again. I promise.”

“How do you know?”

“’Cause they know I’m not going to give them
shit. But I don’t see what that has to do with us.”

“Because it could put me in danger. Then, I’m
trying to lift off my career, and I don’t need any bad publicity.
The media will eat me alive if I’m with you and it happens again. I
just don’t need that; it’ll shift the focus from my music.”

A grave expression came across Cairo’s face.
“I can’t help who I am. I definitely can’t dictate the action of
all these broke ass Niggas in the A. McDonald’s can’t hire them
all, you know?”

“I know. Can you at least hire some
bodyguards? That way, they’ll think twice before they try you
again. And I’ll be safer with you.”

“That’s what I’m about to do,” he lied. “I’m
interviewing Andre 3000’s ex-bodyguard at four.”

“Good.”

Terry entered the room dressed in black, and
Vanessa adjusted her shirt. “Hi, Mr. Terry.”

“Hey, Kayla.”

“It’s Vanessa,” she corrected him.

“Oh, I’m sorry. How are you doing,
Vanessa?”

“Fine.”

Cairo chuckled. “What’s up, Pops? You’re
dressed up like you about to go to a BMF party. Where you
going?”

“To Tracey’s funeral.”

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot her funeral is
today.”

Terry pulled a slim envelope from his pocket
and handed it to him. “Son, you were wrong about that baby no—”

“Hold, hold, hold!” he said cutting his
father off and looking to Vanessa. “Let me talk to my pops in
private, would you?”

“I have to be at the studio in a few, anyway.
I’ll call you later. Bye.”

He kissed her. “Bye.”

“See you later, Mr. Terry.”

Terry continued once she left. “You were
wrong about that baby not being yours.”

Cairo tore the already opened envelope and
read the DNA results four times before he looked up, frowning.
“This is some bullshit!”

“No! That’s what it is! And if you don’t get
your ass up and see to that baby, you might as well forget about
me!”

“Pops!” he whined.

“I don’t want to hear it! If you disown that
baby, then I‘m going to disown you. Fair is fair, Cairo.”

Cairo knew this was crucial, because without
his father’s support, life as he knew it would come to an abrupt
halt. He sat up quickly, causing a sharp pain to shoot through his
body. “Oww! Ouch!”

Terry stared on, unaffected by his son’s
discomfort.

“No, Pops. Ain’t no need for all that. I’m
glad that’s my boy. I’m just shocked because I only had unprotected
sex with her once.”

“That’s all it takes.”

“I see. Well, let me get myself together
before I go see him.”

Terry stared at him suspiciously. “I’m not
playing with you, Cairo. Your mama would turn in her grave if she
knew what was going on.”

“I’m not playing either, Pops. I’m about to
go now. See you when you get back.”

Terry finally accepted that he had gotten his
point across and left for the funeral. That’s when Cairo threw his
pillow on the floor. “This is some bullshit!”

The lone man entered the funeral dressed all in
black. Everything about him seemed ghastly, right down to his
trench coat, which was too hot for the weather. It hung loosely,
concealing his right hand. No one seemed to notice or pay attention
to him as he walked deeper and deeper into the room, smiling
wickedly at the mass of people that chattered idly.

He figured the best way to go about the
situation was to go into the depths of the room where the podium
was located. That way, he would have a bird’s eye view of everyone,
and his presence would be felt tremendously.

JJ Jamieson walked past the casket, and the
sight of the lifeless woman only fueled his hostility. He smacked
off a glass of water that was sitting on the podium, and tapped
repeatedly on the microphone until he had everybody’s
attention.

“Oh, my God!” someone yelled.

“Yeah, it’s me, snitches!” JJ retorted. “I
know that everybody was hoping I wasn’t going to show up.” He
turned his attention to a man sitting in the crowd. “Uncle June,
why you lie? I thought you said that you was on your way to pick me
up.”

The older man with a long Jheri curl began to
stutter. “I…I…I…bl…blew the horn. I…I thought you must have caught
a ride with somebody else. I…I swear JJ.”

JJ nodded his head knowingly. “That’s a’ight.
You got me which is on me. You already know who the next one is
on.”

He then focused back on the mass of people.
“I know don’t nobody like me since I beat up Uncle June’s stepson
at the cookout a few years back. But personally, I don’t give a
fuck! It’s not about East or West. It’s about niggas and bitches,
power and money, riders and punks. Which side are you on?”

Everybody in the parlor began whispering,
wondering what JJ was talking about.

“In saying all of that, “ he said, while
pulling out a glossy 9 x 12 picture of Tracey from his trench coat.
“I’m here to show my respect to my niece, Tracey, and nobody
else!”

“Get your ass down from there, JJ!” someone
yelled.

“Come make me, mutha fucker! Whoever said
that.”

When no one stood up to try it, he continued.
“So, anyways. After this funeral is over and I go pray over her
baby, I’m going back to New York. But I’m forewarning everybody
ahead of time to give me three feet at all times, and we’ll have a
civil funeral. Thanks for hearing me out. Let’s do this for
Tracey.” He raised his fist, Black Panther style.

JJ stayed that way for a full minute before
finding a seat, leaving everybody who didn’t know him
flabbergasted.

Vicky looked over at Rasheeda, shaking her head.
“I should have known that JJ was going to bring his foolish ass
down here.”

“What in the hell was he talking about?”

“I don’t know, but I heard that line he
quoted from somewhere.”

“Me, too. I think that was 2-Pac.”

“You know that it’s about to be some shit,
right?”

“We should take him to Cairo’s room and sic
him on his ass.”

Vicky shook her head. “Nah, that would be too
good for him. We have to think of something worse than an ass
whipping.”

Rasheeda didn’t protest. “I’m surprised at
the number of people who drove all the way down here.”

Vicky nodded in agreement and scanned the
room. Her eyes rested on Terry, and she found herself gritting on
him. “He got some nerve showing his face here! I should go over
there and smack the shit out his ass!”

“Who?” Rasheeda asked, following Vicky’s
glare.

“Cairo’s father, Terry.”

“Didn’t you tell me that he and Tracey were
close?”

“Yes, but still…”

“You’re directing your anger towards the
wrong person.”

“I know, but I would get some kind of
satisfaction out of it.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll get our satisfaction. And
when we do, it’ll be the ultimate revenge.”

When Ray let himself
in this house, he
was unintentionally singing a mixture of three different songs. He
shut the door behind him and did his best impression of P. Diddy’s
signature dance.

Debbie, who was sitting on the couch watching
television, cocked her head at him. “Somebody is feeling good.”

“Ohh, hey baby,” he slurred, while making his
way over to her. “I didn’t see you. What are you watching?”

Debbie smelled the alcohol seeping through
his pores and ignored his question. “Whoa! You got crunk after the
funeral, didn’t you?”

“Nah, baby. I didn’t make it to the funeral;
I wasn’t up for the drama. Know what ‘m talking about?”

“What drama are you talking about, Ray?”

“You know. I knew that more than likely, they
were going to trip on me ‘cause I’m Cairo’s partner. I wasn’t up
for that shit, baby.”

“Where were you, then?”

Ray flopped back on the couch and began
scratching his neck. “To a super nice bar to gather my
thoughts.”

“Seems like you did more drinking than
anything.”

“I can’t lie about that none. I definitely
got my drink on, drinking and thinking,” he sung.

“You sure are happy. What happened at the
bar?” she asked, suspiciously.

“I came to a conclusion.”

“About what?”

“That’s a good question, baby. I’mma have to
answer that as soon as I use the bathroom.” He stumbled off.

He came back a few minutes later, and Debbie
started laughing when she saw that he had stripped down to his
boxers.

“It’s hot in here,” he said, flopping back on
the couch. “Turn on the air, will you?”

“It’s already on, boy. I’mma go get the lil’
fan in a minute. Tell me what conclusion that you came to
first.”

“It was something real simple that I’ve been
making hard. Know what I’m talking about?”

“No. Tell me.”

“You know how I’m always complaining about
Cairo’s fucked up ways, and how he puts me in compromising
situations at times?”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, Tracey’s death made me realized that
he only cares… he only cares about himself. Know what I’m talking
about?”

“Uh huh.”

“And even though we’ve been friends forever,
I’mma have to cut him back if he don’t change his ways. We’re like
night and day. Everything he represents, I oppose.”

“True. What do you think he’s going to
say?”

“I don’t give a fuck what he says. Know what
I’m talking about? Fuck Cairo.”

Debbie leaned in and kissed him. “I’m so
proud of you standing firm.”

“Baby.”

“Yes?”

“Can you got get the fan now?”

It took Cairo fifteen minutes to reach the
pediatric floor on his walker, but he found his son in less than a
minute. He was lying inside an incubator, looking so tiny and
frail. Cairo began to feel very uncomfortable.

A nurse doubled back when she saw Cairo. “May
I help you, sir?”

Cairo was in a daze, oblivious to her.

“Excuse me, sir.”

“Huh? Did you say something?”

“I was wondering if you needed some help.
Maybe back to your room?”

A somber expression came across his face.
“No, I’m fine. I just found out that he is my son.”

“Oh. Why the long face? You should be
happy.”

“I should be, but he’s in bad shape,” he
said, gesturing at the incubator.

“You’re his father? I only met the
grandfather.”

He nodded awkwardly.

“First, let me say that I’m so sorry about
his mother.”

It took Cairo great effort not to yawn.
“Thanks.”

“Secondly, from what I heard, your son’s
condition is improving.”

“It is?”

“That’s the word.”

“So he’s going to make it?”

“He should.”

He noticed the built-in glove that allowed
access to the baby, and stuck his hands into them.

The nurse pulled him back with surprising
force. “You have to sanitize first!”

“Oh, I didn’t know.”

He followed her to a sink and washed his
hands. Once the process was completed, he stuck his hand back into
the incubator and grasped his son’s tiny hand.