Love Trumps Game (13 page)

M
yra's house was beautiful. The 4,000-square-foot mini-mansion boasted six bedrooms and seven baths with a slew of custom-designed touches. It sat on two acres of desert-landscaped property, complete with an outdoor kitchen, pool and spa. To Hattie it was the kind of home you couldn't feel cozy and comfortable in because it was too luxurious, too clean, and too perfect for everyday living.

The patio where they sat was equipped with a system that sprayed a fine mist of cool water every ten minutes to help fight off the day's typical desert, ninety-six-degree temperature. Myra was glad that it wasn't one of those 110-degree days that she didn't care for or they wouldn't be able to sit outside for more than fifteen minutes.

“Did you talk to that detective today?” Myra asked, fanning her face. She was still a little warm despite only wearing her bathing suit and matching sarong wrapped around her slender hips.

“Yes, I did,” Hattie said, smoothing down her beige Bermuda shorts. Even with her white tank top she was warmer than she cared to be. “They said they were doing all they could to find Neema, but just like everybody else with missing loved ones, we have to be patient.” She swatted at a pesky fly. It was amazing to her that any flying insect could live in such heat.

“That means they're not really looking.” Myra removed a small
apple from the bowl of fruit on the patio table. She shielded her eyes to gaze over at the kids to see what they were doing. “That's how they do us; take their time about everything.”

“Mama, what about Topps? Did you tell the police about him making threats?”

“I sure did. Until he actually causes me body harm, they can't go after him.”

“I bet he knows where Neema is.” Myra sipped her icy lemonade.

“I just keep praying she's okay.” A missing persons report on Neema had been filed, but it was like Detective Freeman had said; they had to wait for news. Hattie couldn't help feeling that they didn't think Neema was missing or had met with foul play. She simply didn't want to be found.

Myra took a small bite and chewed. “I know, Mama. I know.”

“I really appreciate you letting me and the kids stay here. Don't worry, we'll be out of your way as soon as the DMV sends my license and I can get to the bank.” Hattie picked up her glass of iced lemonade and kept her eyes on the kids in the shadow part of the lagoon-inspired pool. After ordering a new ATM card, the bank clerk had assured her that it would only take five to ten days to receive it. Without proper identification, an ATM card or her checkbook, it almost took an act of congress to withdraw money.

“I'm only doing what family would do.” Myra turned her attention to one of the twins splashing water in Brandon's face. She had to nip it before a fight ensued. “Kalena, stoppit! Leave your cousin alone. I'm not going to tell you again.” She turned her attention back to Hattie. “Glen said you guys are welcome to stay as long as it takes. He wanted to tell you himself, but he drives down the hill early in the morning for his rounds at the hospital.”

“Bless his heart, and don't let me keep you from going to the shop. I can watch the kids, if you want.” Hattie figured that if she
was staying for a while, she might as well earn her keep. What's three more kids in her charge?

“Mama, I wouldn't dare dump more kids on you. Actually, I'm thinking about closing the pet shop for a few weeks. I need a vacation, too. But I will have to train my new clerk to do daily feedings and meds while I'm out.” She dabbed at her hair in braids, something her husband Glen hated, but Myra couldn't care less. It was the end of August, hot and getting hotter. “If you need any money until you can access your bank account, let me know.” A tiny, white dog ran up and jumped into her lap. “How's my baby Princess today? Huh? How's my baby?”

Hattie turned her gaze away to keep from watching Myra let that dog lick her face. She had nothing against dogs, but dogs licked other dogs' privates and ate poop sometimes. Cute was one thing, but it was sickening to watch people all but tongue-kiss dogs. To her, that's what happens when black folks try to act white. Myra probably kissed more on Princess the dog than her own kids.

Brandon and Raynita started arguing about something silly, as usual. To Hattie's horror, Raynita pushed her brother into the pool's deep end. “Nita, no!” Alarmed, she shot up from her seat but relaxed when she saw that Brandon was an excellent swimmer. “Umph. Yeah, now that you mentioned it, I need to get to Target later and buy the kids some clothes so they won't have to smell like smoke.”

“Target?” Myra frowned at the name. She was more inclined to shop at Robinsons-May, Nordstrom, and Neiman-Marcus. Target and Walmart did seem more her mother's speed though.

“Yeah. I would go to Walmart, but we've been banned from there. Thanks to Raynita.”

Myra only shook her head. “Lordie, I would have died of embarrassment if my kids got caught stealing.”

“Imagine how I felt. Anyway, yeah, I could stand some money.”

“Here, let me go get it now.” Myra shooed Princess from her lap, got up and went to go get some cash. She came back and handed Hattie two thousand dollars before plopping back down. “If you need more, let me know.”

“Thanks. Neema will be paying this back. I can take all five kids with me, if you want.”

“That's okay, Mama. My kids have some chores to do. They'll be fine.”

Hattie didn't fret. There couldn't be too many chores because Myra utilized the services of a cleaning lady three times a week. She had a nagging feeling that Myra feared for her own kids' safety. In a way she couldn't blame her. “I'll need to borrow your car.”

“Let's get this clear now,” Hattie told Brandon and Raynita two hours later as they stood in front of the Apple Valley Target store entrance. Myra had a problem offering up the keys to her new SUV, but did give up the keys to her old car, a Toyota. “There will be no asking for things we didn't come to get, and absolutely no stealing. Do you hear me, Nita?” She gave a stern look.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“We don't want a repeat of what happened at Walmart, right, Brandon?” Hattie asked with a raised brow.

“Yeah, yeah, Nanny. Stop sweating me.”

Their shopping time went off without a hitch. Hattie purchased underwear and three outfits and a pair of pajamas for each. She was on her way back to Myra's house, feeling proud of how good the kids had been, when she exited the Target parking lot going right instead of left.

“Nanny, where the hell we going?” Brandon asked after ten minutes of driving east on Bear Valley Road.

“Watch your mouth, young man. And for your information,
we going home.” The thought tugged at her heart. She wished she was going home, to her own house, but that wasn't the case. Boarding up her damaged home and having to leave had been the hardest thing she'd ever done. “Back to Aunt Myra's house.” She looked to the right and then to the left. Nothing looked familiar. The streets were long between lights and the more she drove, the more rural and undeveloped the surroundings looked. Instead of Apple Valley, they should have named it Death Valley. That's what some parts reminded her of. They drove past large fields of tumbleweeds and Joshua trees.

“Nanny, I think we're going the wrong way.”

Like he should know.
“Brandon, I know what I'm doing.” Truly, she didn't. She'd only visited the city of Victorville twice, and the last time was more than six months ago. “Sit back and let me figure this out.” Hattie moved her rearview mirror to look at Brandon. The hard, cold stare of Topps Jackson was looking back at her. She blinked hard and looked again. Darn if he wasn't the splitting image of his father.

“Nanny, can we go to McDonald's?” Raynita wanted to know.

“Sure.” Hattie didn't see why not. They had been good at Target. So far, Brandon had used profanity only once, and Raynita hadn't stolen one thing. “As soon as I see one, I'll pull in.” She kept looking for something familiar—a landmark of sorts. It was time to turn the vehicle around and head back in the opposite direction. She executed a sharp right onto a side street so she could turn around when she noticed the big, black Denali behind her. The same rims, the same tinted windows. It was the same vehicle she had witnessed parked in front of her house the night of the fire.

“Ohmygawd, no.”

“What, Nanny?”

She ignored Raynita's inquiry. Hattie turned the car around and sped back to the main street, putting pedal to the metal as she whipped a left on Bear Valley Road.

“Ah shit, it's Daddy!” Brandon squealed, turned around in his seat.

If she'd had the time, she would've stopped and thumped Brandon's head, but she didn't. Hattie raced up Bear Valley until the traffic slowed. She copped a right into the parking lot of a strip mall and drove to an exit. She had no idea of where she was going or how far she was from Myra's place.

Raynita asked, “Where we going, Nanny?”

“I have no idea. Just hold on tight.” Hattie veered to the left before making another quick right onto another side street. The black Denali was still behind her and gaining. Up ahead she spotted a 7-Eleven store. She didn't know if it would do any good or not, but she had to get to it. Topps would be a fool to try something in front of witnesses.

Raynita whined, “Nanny, I'm scared.”

“That's cause you a scary-cat baby. I ain't scared of shit.”

“Brandon, hush!” With her heart racing, Hattie screeched the car to a stop in front of a gas pump at the 7-Eleven. “Hurry up, get out!” She unbuckled and hopped out, making sure she had the Dooney & Bourke purse Myra had given her, especially with the rest of her cash inside. “Get inside the store,” she ordered. “Hurry up!”

“Why we running from my daddy?”

“Brandon, we don't have time for silly questions right now.” Hattie escorted the kids inside the cool building. A few customers gave them curious looks before going back to their business.

“Nanny, I'm hungry,” Raynita announced for the second time. “Can we get some chips and soda?”

“Yeah. Whatever.” Hattie's attention was out the large store window watching the black Denali pull up to the side of the old Corolla. She watched a hooded man dressed in black get out. She couldn't see his face well or his eyes through the dark shades he wore, but she watched in horror as he took out some kind of squirt bottle and sprayed liquid all over her car.

“Oh no, somebody stop that man! Stop him!” Hattie ran to the door but didn't dare step one foot outside. Not with that fool out there. He was crazy! No telling what he would do to her. “Call the police. He's doing something to my car!”

Not one passerby tried to stop him. It had to be Topps Jackson. Hattie almost fainted, watching him light a piece of paper and toss it into her open car window. Screams rang out the second flames burst to life.

“What the hell is he doing?” somebody inside the store screamed. Customers gathered at the window for a look, fearful that the fuel pumps might blow next. Gasps and “ohmygawds” rang out.

“Somebody call nine-one-one. The tanks could explode!” The clerk used speed dial and called for help.

Flames engulfed her car. “Ohmygawd, Lord help us. He's crazy.” Hattie watched the hooded man casually climb back into his vehicle and drive away. She felt a sense of relief that he was gone. She shuddered to think of what may have happened if he'd come inside the small convenience store. “You guys okay?”

The children both shook their heads.

A flurry of activity had customers leaving their selections to run for their vehicles and drive away before the fire caused an explosion. A fire truck rolled up on the scene. Two minutes later, Brandon's cell phone rang. Hattie had been holding on to the phone to keep Brandon from having unsupervised contact with his father behind her back. She flipped it up.

“Hello.” She was hesitant to put the phone to her ear, like it could be a bomb, then listened to the familiar icy voice.

“Second warning, bitch. Give up the kids or give up your life. What's it gonna be?”

“Never. Over my dead body.” Hattie hung up on him.

“Damn, baby. That was some crazy shit!”

Topps pulled the hood from his head. He was about to burn up from being out of his air conditioned whip handling his business. “For sho. That ol' woman better be glad it was too hot for a nigga to walk up into that store and set it off right.”

“For a minute, I thought it was on and cracking.” Energized, Gina rubbed her hand along his thigh. “That was fun. Can we go shopping now?”

“Yo', don't give me no grief.” Topps licked his lips looking over at her. Now that Neema was missing in action, he and Gina were kicking it pretty heavy. The short, black skirt Gina had on had her luscious brown thighs showing like a mutha. He was digging that red halter top she wore, too. Gina was sexy as hell. “Is that all you can think about? Spending my damn money.” For a hot minute, he was glad that she had made the long drive up with him to Victorville. Long drives made him antsy. His appreciation wouldn't last long because Gina was all about Gina. She knew damn well he was going through something heavy dealing with his kids, their missing mother and that damn Hattie, but all she could think about was shopping.

Gina popped her gum, smiling. “No, but you promised that we could check out the outlet stores in Barstow. It's only a half an hour up Highway 15.”

“Yeah, I said that shit, but that's after I take care of business.”

“Ain't that what you just did?” She popped her gum twice and rolled her eyes.

Topps hated to see women drink too much, smoke nicotine and pop gum. “Do you see my damn kids in this whip?”

“No. I just saw some poor woman scared outta her freaking mind and trying to get away from you.”

“What the fuck you say?”

“Nothing.”

See. That's what he didn't like about Gina. She was opinionated and mouthy. Mouthy bitches had to be kept in their place at all times. He felt like smacking her good. “What? You have a problem with me trying to be a father to my kids?”

“Baby, no. Forget I said anything. I didn't mean nothing.”

“Oh, you meant somethin' all right. Just say what the hell you mean.” His fist clutched the steering wheel so hard, his knuckle started swelling.

“I just think that…well, that maybe the kids need to stay put 'til they mama can get them. How you gon' run yo' business with two kids underfoot?”

This ho is mad crazy.
Topps pulled the vehicle over and slid the gear into park. “You gotta damn problem with me gettin' my kids?”

“Not really.”

“Better not. Shit. You knew the drill before we got involved.”

“Baby, I don't have a problem. Damn. Sorry I said anything.”

“Damn right, 'cause I know what the hell I'm doing. You in Topps' world right now.” He felt like slapping her to get his point across. “They mama is missing and so is my shit she was transporting. She didn't deliver my product and I don't know where the hell she is. She may have left me, but she ain't left them damn kids for good. I know Neema. She'll be back for them kids, and they'll be with me, waiting for her lying, conniving ass.”

“Is that right?”

“My word on it, ma. My word.” Topps had been thinking about it long and hard. He was closing the business down. Going legit, or something close to it. He'd made up his mind and had already begun moving money from all locations. A shit load of his money was stashed at Gina's condo and she didn't have a clue where. He had so much cash that it was getting harder and harder to hide and keep up with it all. Once everything was all settled, he could relocate to another state. Maybe Florida or Georgia. A couple of times he thought about taking Gina with him. But nah, women like Gina couldn't act right for long. It wasn't in them. “Besides, it's my son, and my daughter. I should be able to have 'em when I feel like it. They my kids!”

“Hell yeah, you should.” Gina patted his thigh. “I'm sorry, baby.”

“Yeah. You need to be.” His lips curled as he rolled his eyes.

“I'm sorry, boo. Don't be mad. Here, let me make it up to you.”

“Make it up how?”

“Let me think of something.”

Topps blew out hard air. They were on a side street with little traffic. Large, barren fields could be seen in the distance. “Depends on what you have in mind.”

“Maybe something like this,” Gina said, rubbing the bulge of his crotch. Scooting over, she freed his manhood from his Rocawear sweats, lowered her head to his lap and got busy slurping and sucking.

“Ooh, baby, it's so big. Tastes good, too.”

“Damn, girl, you a freak for sho.” Topps squeezed her breasts and kept a lookout for anybody walking up on them. For a minute it was hard to concentrate on Gina's lips gliding up and down his shaft when he had so much on his mind: money, shutting down his operations; finding Neema, picking up his kids, and of course,
getting revenge. He couldn't let Hattie get away with trying to punk him. “Let me pull around to the back of this building.”

The coast looked clear enough for the two of them to climb into the roomy backseat where Topps discovered Gina didn't have on panties beneath her short skirt. In no time he had her skirt hiked up over her hips and one of her breasts hanging out from her black lace bra. With Gina on top, his tongue flicked around her hardened nipple as his hands kept pulling her soft, fleshy rear into his pelvis. Topps had his sweats pulled down enough to get the job done, sliding in and out of her warm wetness with hard, but smooth gliding.

Gina threw her head back. “Oh yeah, baby, do it. Do me harder. Make this pussy work, baby. Squeeze my ass. I'm coming…”

Dirty words to his ears made him pump faster, harder until he couldn't hold back any longer. Spent, the two disengaged breathing hard. They fixed their clothes before some nosey person walked up and caught them with their pants down, literally.

“Can we go shopping now?” Gina didn't give up.

“Hell yeah, girl. We'll get a room first, get cleaned up, then we can go shopping.”