Motown Showdown (23 page)

“No fucking chance.”

“Fine,” he groans. “But you go in with both eyes open, Gadget. You do not judge, or engage. You watch, you listen, and you follow her lead.”

“I am not a rookie, old man.”

“Tonight you are.” And then the bastard hung up.

The girls were gone for three hours. Neither one of them loved shopping; they do it because they have to. I was glad they went together even if that meant sitting here alone while they did it. Clearly Rome was pissed at me because he got home from work and avoided me like the plague. Now it’s five o’clock, and she’s still over there. I can hear the girls laughing. I can also hear Rome egging them on. I wasn’t invited, and I told myself I didn’t care.

So much for the brotherhood
.

We had a job tonight. An opportunity to prove to her I was a worthy partner to have. The chance to show her my skills. Of course, I called Bobo while she slept. He thought it was a horrible idea considering the job but refused to tell me what the job was until seven. He also mentioned my calling was a dick move, but I ignored it. I also ignored him warning me off. Both of them needed to know I could take care of my fucking self. I told myself if she saw my skill up close, there was a good chance she’d agree to back off guardian angel detail.

If she did that, then I wouldn’t have to let her go.

Which meant, I needed to be in on this.

Obviously, I was desperate for any excuse to keep her and in my mind it was a sound plan. I’d had enough of sitting here talking to myself too. I was an operator, a damn good one, and I needed some fucking action. Fine, I missed her and wanted to see her, I wanted to be the one making her laugh. Camo being upset with me was driving me nuts. Camo not laughing when she was near me was driving me nuts too. Fuck, since we started this roommate gig she’s laughed less and less.

Walking next door, I spotted her leaning over Kandace, painting. The living room exploded with paints, gels, and silicones. Rome’s eyes were on the girls while mine were on
my girl
. Taking a seat behind her, she doesn’t acknowledge me in any way. The task at hand had her complete focus but like always she knew I was close. After several more minutes, she sits up and says, “Voila!”

Rome was the first to gasp because her back was to him, followed by Kandace and then myself. Running to the mirror Kandace screams, “Holy shit!” before jumping up and down. I have never seen my sister jump up and down. Ever.

“How?” Rome asks Camo while staring at Kandace.

“Practice,” she shrugs.

While Camo starts to clean up, my sister comes to stand in front of me and asks, “Well?” Speechless, I look her up and down trying to find
my sister
. My very Caucasian sister but not finding her. Her body was her own, but her face, hair, and exposed skin was not her at all. Camo had literally morphed my sister into Beyoncé. If I wasn’t so shocked at my sister’s skin matching mine, I might actually laugh. Rome, however, wasn’t laughing he was lusting. I did not want to cover my eyes but I was thinking about it.

“Well,” Camo says slinging her bags on her arms. “Duty calls but I’ve got two words for you, Roman.” Nudging him in the shoulder she looks up and smiles, “Role play.”

Just then Kandace starts belting out
Drunk in Love
and Rome was all over it. Good God, I didn’t need to see this either. Proud of herself, Camo walks next door and hangs her clothing bags in the closet. “I’m jumping in the shower,” she says more to herself than to me. While she did that, I unzipped the bags and felt my jaw drop.

Where the fuck were we going?

Losing my mind, I pace the house waiting on her. It was six forty-five, she was still in the bathroom. I’ve heard the blow dryer, heard her moving around and at five to seven she walked out wearing only a towel. Her hair was down, curled and sprayed. But it was her face that got me. Not the silicone masks she wears but
her
God damn face. Heavy makeup around her eyes, bronzed cheeks and red lips.

I have never seen her in makeup. Camo with makeup on
her
skin was…
sinful
.

In that moment, even in a towel she looked…expensive.

Unzipping the bag, she pulls her gown out, drops the towel and slides the silk over her body. No bra, no panties or stockings. Silk on skin. Taking the lid off the box, she drops the heels to the floor stepping in. Standing erect, Camo was five eight, easy. That made those heels really fucking high. Blinking at her, I realized I didn’t know Camo at least, not this one. For a woman who wore workout clothes, I wasn’t equipped to handle this. Right now, she looked a lot like the women I used to fuck. Staring at her, I realized not only had I been a shallow bastard, but that she had more class than any broad I’d ever tagged. No one held a candle to her, no one.
Fuck, I was a fool…

Reaching for her phone, oblivious to my inner battle, she hit speaker and walked over to the dresser to spray perfume I never knew she wore. Bobo’s voice was clear and, so was our job.

Tonight, Camo was an escort.

A motherfucking
escort
. High paid, in demand and
generous
. According to him, she’s worked with this service for years and was well respected. How in the fuck did I not know this? Why in the fuck hadn’t she told me?

Cutting into my rage he tells me, I was to watch her from the shadows.

For the first time ever, I would have her back. An exposed back in fact. Because the fucking silk she was wearing exposed her entire back, all the way to the crack of her ass. The look on her face when I told her I was playing made sense now.

Camo did not want me to see her like this.

Swear to God, I was positive I didn’t either.

Didn’t matter though, I put on the suit.

“Black tie,” she says. “I left the details with your handler.”

“Only for you would I wear a dress and heels.”

Laughing, she finally calms and says, “Weapons check at the door. High security. Whatever you bring needs to be hidden. Your name is on the list with a guard as your plus one.”

“Not my first day on the job, Cinn.”

“Camo?” she whispers softly. “Thank you.”

Unless you spend a lot of time in Detroit, you wouldn’t know there are hidden neighborhoods that are so gorgeous you’d sell your own kid to live there. I was pulling into one of them now. Most people hear Detroit and assume the worst, these people aren’t very bright. But that’s neither here nor there. With the crimson silk dress molded to my body, heels even the most experienced stripper would envy and makeup to rival RuPaul, I had a job to do. However, it wasn’t just a job but a favor too.

Back in the day, before I lost my parents, I went to school with a girl named Cinnamon. Then and now she was hands down the most gorgeous human being I have ever seen. When I say flawless on the outside, I mean flawless on the outside. The girl has never even had a zit for Christ’s sake. But she’d tell you as easily as I would, flawless on the outside doesn’t translate to flawless on the inside. If I thought, my life took a turn it didn’t hold a candle to hers.

A week after my parents were killed, she hit the streets, as in
lived on them
. She was thirteen. A man found her as she was about to get raped and dangled books in her face (fucking story books) to get her to come home with him. She loved books, so she went.

This man promised to love and protect her. And to a point he did. His name is Savage (by word and deed), and he treated her like a daughter until her eighteenth birthday. Fast forward to now. Savage was obsessed with her. But he was blind to the fact that while she was loyal to him, she loved another. The man in question is Savage’s competition. He also used to work for Savage, fell hard for Cinn and promised to come back for her. He never did and not because he didn’t try. He hasn’t succeeded yet because Savage keeps sending men to kill him. It hasn’t worked, and Cinn knows, like I know, the streets need balance.

She runs Savage’s den, his men and a huge chunk of the crime scene. His men worship her because she is that fucking good at running things. These days Cinn is under lock and key, literally. He is up her ass
round the clock
. Savage has a lot of years on her, knows he doesn’t satisfy her and that she loves his competition. That guy’s name is Monarch, and he loves Cinn so much that during their separation he built his own empire,
for her
. Loyalty and love are not mutually exclusive as Cinn herself would tell you.

You try fucking the man you think of as a father and tell me you wouldn’t go to extremes to get the fuck out of that life. Crime exists, I can’t stop it and would be foolish to try. But in this I agree with Cinn. Monarch and Cinn running things together would keep the streets even more balanced. Monarch needs a heads up, which he’ll get from me tonight. On top of that, I’m putting Monarch in a position to bring Cinn home where she belongs. Tonight I’m an escort, but I’m also a messenger.

A man named The Greek was here to kill him. Yes, it’s a stupid name but really I don’t have room to talk. Here’s where it gets good; I am The Greek’s date. He hires women; he doesn’t play house with them. He has specific tastes and demands. I’d have to play along, but I would not be fucking him. He’d be too dead to get it up, and I would never bang anyone named
The Greek
.

My objective was to play, tease and kill giving Monarch the ammo he needed to back Savage into a corner. That world is a violent one but oddly enough, a diplomatic one too. I look at it like a game of chess. Monarch wanted to be king, but his queen wasn’t in play yet. After tonight, she would be.

Cinn deserved some fucking happiness.

Many years ago, Cinn suggested I interview to work for the escort service a friend of hers owns. I, of course, refused until she explained the amount of cover it would provide me. She was right, it was a great cover and all I had to do was be the total opposite of myself. It was not lost on me that the opposite of myself was looking, dressing and acting the part of the skanks Gadget liked to fuck. I used the service as my in many nights
, but I could feel tonight would be different. How do I know this? Easy. Gadget took one look at me whored up, and he
liked
it. For me, this was another harsh reminder that I wasn’t what he truly wanted.
I
was what was available.

“----believe we’re in a fucking limo,” he says breaking me of my thoughts. “Are you listening to me?” he grunts.

“No.”

“God dammit, you aren’t even armed.”

“I don’t need to be,” I tell him adjusting my dress while we wait in the procession. “You’re here as my guard to watch me. Since I’m a professional, the rules of escorting are simple; stay back unless I call for you.”

“Which you won’t,” he points out.

“No,” I agree. “I won’t.”

“Is that…” he starts then sucks in a breath. “Why the fuck are we at a party with
The
Greek
?”

Smiling up at him after adjusting my killer heels I tell him simply, “He’s my date.”

Thankfully the limo lurched forward shutting him up. The driver opens my door allowing me to step out first.
Game face, girl
… With practiced seduction that took me years to perfect, I took the driver’s offered hand and smiled. At the top of the steps waiting for me was
The Greek
. A disgusting man on the inside but kinda yummy on the outside. You know, if sadists were your thing.

Taking his hand, he kisses the top of mine biting my knuckle. “I can’t wait to eat you,” was his opening line. “I hope you’re hungry,” was mine. Sliding his hand behind my back and cupping my ass, he leads us inside. Until this was over, for the first time in six years, I forced myself to forget Gadget existed.

To get us through this, I had to.

“Keep both eyes open, you do not judge or engage,” he’d said.

She didn’t look like my Camo. She wasn’t acting like my Camo. Fuck, she didn’t even smell like my Camo. Tonight was not going to bode well for me, I could feel it and I did not like how it felt.

Since she stepped out of the shower, she was in her own head. She wasn’t going to let me in, so I didn’t bother to push. From the hair to the shoes, none of it was her, not the real her. Not being able to follow was bullshit. This asshole intended to fuck her because it’s what he paid a lot of money for. Not knowing the job, the agenda or the outcome was dangerous because I wanted to kill the prick and if given the chance, would. But it took about ten seconds of being inside this house to realize we didn’t belong here. This party was catering to Detroit’s elite in crime.