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CHAPTER 10

B
arron Dominion was in chill mode as he rode down the mean streets of Dallas. He was on his way to a meeting with the shareholders of his father’s company, and he nodded his head to the sounds of Jay-Z that blasted from the luxury automobile’s twenty-one strategically placed speakers.

The rear roof was wide open, and the sun was on full beam as he slid his finger across his iPad and checked the latest stock reports from Dominion Oil. His father, Viceroy Dominion, was a cutthroat oil baron who had come up in the slums of Houston and made his money the good old-fashioned way: he stole that shit.

Rumor had it that Viceroy had come into his mega-millions by swindling one of his business partners in a crooked oil stock deal. The two had invested in a start-up company as equal partners, but at the end of the day it had been Earl Washington who ended up bleeding in the gutter, and Viceroy Dominion who stood on the throne pissing down on him.

At just twenty-five, Barron was one of the state’s best and brightest corporate attorneys, and he had graduated from top-tier schools. He had watched his father bum-rush and connive his way into power positions with some of the richest men in the oil industry, and although Viceroy had learned to walk and talk like an upstanding man of means, there was always that slick hint of hood in him, that switch-blade-carrying, dice-throwing nigga from the trenches that lived just beneath the surface of his skin.

Barron was cruising in the backseat of his 1.5 million-dollar whip and studying the bylaws of the company’s stockholder’s agreement when his cell phone vibrated and the front display lit up brightly. He glanced at the caller ID, then pressed a button on a side panel and spoke into the intercom in the white-on-white 2012 Maybach Landaulet.

“Yo, roll it up, Charlie. I gotta take a call.”

The smoked-glass panel that separated the chauffeur’s compartment from the rear seat area in the luxury sedan slid up smoothly, giving Barron complete privacy.

“Hi Ma. How you feeling today?”

Barron was a momma’s boy and he didn’t give a damn who knew it. Although he had his father’s sharp mind for business and could come off shrewd and cocky with his corporate opponents, Barron had nothing but love for his beautiful mother, Selah Ducane Dominion.

“Hello, baby,” Selah Dominion greeted her oldest son. “I’m doing okay. But I want you to know I got an exciting telephone call from Sam George earlier today.”

Barron sat up straighter in his seat. His moms was tipsy. He could hear the old familiar slur in her voice even though she was trying hard to control it. He adjusted his tie and pinched the razor-sharp crease in his pants.

“What did he want? What, he found another Sable wannabe? I guess that Internet news conference is getting a lot of hits, and people wanna see what they can get out of us. I’m telling you, Ma, you better brace yourself. With Daddy in the hospital all kinds of nuts are gonna start scurrying around us like project roaches.”

“Hmmm ... ,” Selah said. “Maybe. But this one seemed kind of promising. She called our hotline and they patched her through to Sam. He said he spoke to her for a little while, and she really impressed him. He gave me her number and I called her.”

Barron frowned. The scenery outside had changed from an urban hood to the Dallas business district, and the buzz of a small but vibrant city was in the air.

“Come on now, Ma. You shouldn’t even be talking to those people. They chase stories like ours just for the hell of it. Most of them are just schemers and con artists. They’ll tell you anything to play on your heart and get in your pockets. With Daddy being so sick you just don’t need that kind of distraction right now. Forget about this girl, and I’ll give Sam a call and remind him not to bother you when stuff like this comes up.”

“But I already spoke to her, Barron. I couldn’t tell a lot about her over the telephone, but there
are
a lot of similarities between her and Sable. She lives in New York, but she’s flying to Texas on Monday to take a DNA test, and we’re gonna get together and have lunch or something.”

Barron cursed under his breath. Sam’s dumb ass was about to get fucked up. Viceroy had been tearing him off under the table for years to keep the Sable imposters away from Selah, and as soon as his father got laid up this fool let one slip through the cracks.

“So did this girl take a DNA test yet? Sam shouldn’t even be calling you unless there’s some DNA results on the table.”

“No, she hasn’t taken the test yet. She’s going to do that when she flies in on Monday.”

Barron sighed. “Mama, I know it’s hard on you, but it’s been almost eighteen years now. Eighteen long years, and every last girl who’s called has either been a mental case or a broke opportunist, and I can’t see this girl being any different. How much cash did she ask you for?”

“None, Barron. She didn’t ask me for a dime.”

“Not even to buy her a plane ticket to get down here?”

“She didn’t ask me for anything. Nothing at all.”

Barron pressed his cell phone to his chest and pressed on the Maybach’s intercom button again.

“Turn it around, Charlie, and get Brian on the phone and tell him to cancel the board meeting. Tell him something came up and we’ll have to reschedule. Cancel my lunch date with my cousin Pilar too. Run me back to the estate real quick,” Barron ordered as his driver made an illegal U-Turn, then muttered under his breath, “So I can see what the hell is going on with my mother.”

Twenty minutes after taking his mother’s call, Barron walked through the front door of the Dominion Estate. His cousin, Pilar Ducane, was standing in the large foyer talking on her cell phone, and she ended the call and stuffed the phone inside her purse the moment she saw him.

“Barron! What the
hell
—?”

“What are you doing here?” he asked. “I thought you had a meeting in the city today?”

“I thought you had one too!” she said. “That’s why I wanted us to go to lunch. What the hell happened?” she asked, rushing at him with a frown on her gorgeous face. Pilar was a sexy-ass socialite and the spoiled only daughter of Barron’s uncle Digger. Her and Barron had grown up together and they’d always been tight, but lately Pilar had been playing him close and tossing around some steamy hints that let Barron know she wanted them to be a whole lot closer.

“You promised to take me to lunch today, B, and then Charlie calls and says you’re ditching out. What’s up with that?”

“Something came up,” Barron told her. He caught the pissed-off look that flashed across her face as he rushed past. “I’ll take you out tomorrow. I promise.”

“That’s what you said last week!” Pilar whined, and then she smirked at his back. “What? Let me guess. Carla’s got your ass running around in circles again, right? How come every time me and you are supposed to hook up that little hater tries to pull something slick?”

“It’s not Carla,” Barron said over his shoulder as he strode toward the parlor. “I gotta talk to Mama real quick. I just found out there’s another chick out there claiming to be Sable. I’ll tell you more about it later. After I handle this business.”

Pilar crossed her arms across her breasts and her stylish jewelry sparkled. “Oh, I’ve got some business for you to handle,” she muttered under her breath. “You can believe that.”

“A’ight, so we’ve got another nutcase on our hands,” Barron said as he stepped into the stunning, two-story parlor. Selah sat on an expensive sofa drinking a vodka tonic. She jumped up when her son entered the room, and there was excitement mixed with alcohol and hope in her eyes.

“I just got off the phone with Sam,” Barron told her. “He said to tell you he’s sorry for calling you with all that nonsense. The next girl who calls him thinking she’s Sable is gonna get sent straight to the lab.”

Barron had lit a fire under Sam’s ass and had the dumb dick apologizing until he was out of breath. For years, Viceroy had been sliding that fool big chunks of cool cash to keep this kind of shit away from Selah. But now that Sam had fucked around and let this crazy broad from New York slide through, all of that extra paper was about to be dead.

“So it’s all good, Ma. He won’t be calling you with no more nonsense.”

“But I told you I’m not really sure it’s nonsense this time,” Selah said as she raked her fingers through her silky, blow-dried hair. The liquor had broken her out in a sweat, even though the temperature in the mansion was always kept extra-cool.

“This girl seems like she might be the real thing, Barron. She had all the right answers. She has the same birthday as Sable, she was adopted at the right age, she has the sickle cell trait—she even has the same genetic mutation that causes babies to be born with six toes just like Sable was. I don’t know ... something tells me she could be the one.”

Barron stuck his hands down in the pockets of his tailored Brioni suit. “That’s the same thing you said about the last two girls, Mama. One of them freaks was trying to get a sex-change operation, and the other one wanted you to give away all your money because the world was coming to an end. C’mon.” He put his arm around her as they walked over to the window. “Right now Pops is enough for you to worry about. I don’t want you to go getting your hopes up high again on Sable.”

“Sable is still my baby,” Selah said as she sipped on her drink. At forty-eight she was still beautiful and classy, and she could have easily passed for thirty. She had a cool, distant air about her, but those who really knew her understood that she was fragile inside and could get broken down by too much stress.

“For real, Ma. I mean it,” Barron warned her.

“I hear what you’re saying, Barron. But for some reason this girl just seemed different to me. She was so
convincing
. I can’t explain it. I just have a gut feeling this time. Call it a mother’s intuition or whatever you wanna call it, but I have it.”

Selah stood at the window and stared out over the sprawling forty-two-acre estate that her husband had built for her more than twenty-five years ago. She had grown up in a cold Brooklyn tenement, and now she lived in a dream house. A twenty-room mansion that she had helped design and had spent years decorating to her tastes. They had horses, cattle, swimming pools, tennis courts, ponds, and countless fine cars. Her children hadn’t been raised like she was raised—beneath a roaring elevated New York train station with city grime falling down on their heads, but instead, they’d grown up right here in the lap of luxury. And even though she had more money than she could ever spend, and the entire world was at her fingertips, Selah still wasn’t happy.

“A’ight,” Barron said as he stood beside her. He hated it when she got all silent on him. “So what’s her name this time? Where is she from?”

“Her name is Mink, and she’s from right there in New York. Harlem.”

Barron laughed. “Mink? Mama! Come on now. What? You hold a press conference and tell the world you’re looking for a missing child named Sable, and all of a sudden up pops some broad named Mink? Who’s gonna be on the phone next? A hood chick named Chinchilla? C’mon, Ma. Forget about this girl. I hate to say this, but it’s been a long time, and we don’t even know if Sable is still out there anymore.”

Selah hugged her son. For Barron to be adopted, it was funny how much like Viceroy he was. But Selah knew how to handle both of them. She wasn’t about to forget about finding Sable. She’d taken her eyes off her baby for just a few minutes and she’d lost her to a stranger. What kind of mother could forget that?

“You don’t have to tell me how long it’s been, Barron. I relive that day almost every night in my dreams. And all I can say is I’m sorry. I’m sorry for Sable, and I’m sorry for you too.”

“I know. But it’s okay, Ma. Everything is cool.” Barron put his arms around her again. If nobody else understood the pain she felt over losing Sable, he sure did. After all, the blame was partly his too. He was the oldest. He had been the one in charge. Sable had been snatched out of her stroller right in front of his eyes, and he hadn’t been able to do a damn thing about it.

“You were seven years old,” Selah said, reading his guilty thoughts. “Seven. It was my fault for leaving you alone with two babies. That lady was going to take Sable no matter what, and there wasn’t a damn thing you could have done about it. Nothing.”

Barron nodded and kissed the top of his mother’s head. She’d been telling him that same bullshit for over eighteen years.

Maybe one day he’d believe her.

CHAPTER 11

K
elvin Merchant was real easy to find on Facebook. Dude musta had his finger on the CONFIRM button because Bunni sent him a friend request and he approved it quick fast. We stalked his Facebook page and laughed like crazy as we read all his freaky info. He looked a good three hundred and fifty pounds in his pictures, and in the hobby section he had the nerve to put in “pain slut” and list a Web site called
meninpain.com

Bunni loved that shit!

“Oooh, I’ma join that group and look for him,” she said and pulled the site up on the screen. We hollered when a picture came up of a white dude hanging upside down with his balls wrapped in chains. He was dangling by his feet with both his arms tied behind his back. A skinny blond chick wearing nipple pasties and a black garter belt was grinning wickedly over her shoulder as she yanked his hair and ass-muffed his nose.

Sure enough, Mr. Pain Slut was already registered on the Web site.

“Damn, Kelvin is a pain slut for real!” I said as Bunni clicked on the registration box and started filling it out. “You really gonna join that shit?”

She smirked. “Hell fuckin’ yeah! I don’t mind beating a nigga’s ass when a nigga needs his ass beat!”

“Freak!” I screamed. “You’s a nasty little
freak
!”

“Look at this!” Bunni giggled as she read ol’ boy’s profile. “Mr. Pain Slut likes humiliation, inescapable bondage, boot worship, ass-lickin’, face-slappin’, butt-spanking, and
dick torture
!”

“Stop lying!” I squinted at the screen and then bust out laughing. “You gonna have some fun whippin’ on that ass!”

“Damn right,” Bunni said, and her eyes got big with excitement. “I’ma hafta order me some tools and stretch out real good before I go in hard on him, ’cause that’s a big ol’ dude and he’s got a whole lotta ass to whip!”

Kelvin and Bunni had the instant messages flying back and forth and they were getting real thick up in the mix. He invited her into an S & M chat room and they started turning each other on with all kinds of kinky torture talk and dark fantasies. Bunni told Kelvin she liked to dominate men and treat them like dog shit, and he confessed that he was passive and submissive, and he loved being spanked and slapped, especially on his face, dick, and ass.

He also told her that he walked around wearing a metal dick clamp up under his clothes, and he said one of his hottest fantasies involved having a woman torture him, then force him to eat her pussy out.

I was known to be the freak of the week, but all that pain shit didn’t turn me on not one damn bit. But Bunni was all for it. She got dude to tell her his safe word, and when he asked her if they could meet in person she cursed him out and told him she made the damn rules and said he never knew when she was gonna pop up outta the bushes and fuck his sissy ass up.

Peaches had all kinds of good ideas about what kinda whips and shit Bunni should take with her in her torture kit when we flew down to Texas.

“Girl, you should get you some of them Tenga toys! They got cock studs, and deep throat cups, and all that!”

“Handle ya bizz,” I told Bunni as I thought about my own plans. I had to make a stop or two before I dipped up outta New York. The first thing on my list was to get a ride to the nursing home where my mother had been living for the past seven years. “For real, I don’t care what you gotta do so your pain slut can get him a nut. Just make sure he takes damn good care of our asses when we get down there.”

Mama was in one of them state-run nursing homes where all kinds of violations went down unchecked. I hated visiting her. Not because I didn’t love her and wanna see her, but because every time I went there I ended up wanting to kick somebody’s ass for not doing their job and taking care of her.

“Mama,” I called her name and sat on the side of her bed. She smelled like she had been soaking in old pee, and only God knew when the last time her diaper had been changed. “It’s Mink, Mama. I came to see you.”

Even with her face stiff and her hands twisted inward like claws, my mother was still beautiful. Every time I visited her I brought a comb and brush and some pretty headbands and clips for her hair. I did her makeup and polished her fingernails, and I ran my mouth talking to her a mile a minute.

Going up there was bad enough, but leaving her was hard too, because she’d start reaching out for me and talking nonsense, and then all kinds of tears would roll down her face like it was breaking her heart to see me go.

As a teenager I knew my mother had done something real twisted and wrong when she drove her car into that river, but by the time I was grown I had come to understand more about that kinda thing. And even though in my heart I had forgiven her for what she did, I had never been able to say those words out loud to her.

“I gotta go outta town for a little while,” I told Mama as I brushed her soft, pretty hair and dabbed lipstick on her mouth. “Guess where I’m going? Down to Texas! You never been to Texas, huh? Well, I’m gonna be doing some acting work down there,” I lied. “I’ma be gone for a couple of weeks but I’ll be back to see you right after my birthday okay?”

A strange look came into my mama’s eyes. Like she was real scared of something. She started drooling a little bit and moving her lips around like she was tryna tell me something real important. Her twisted hands reached out to touch me and I grabbed them and kissed them.

“You gonna be all right,” I shushed her as loud moans came from her throat. I pressed her stiff hands to my chest and rocked her back and forth. “The doctors have my number, Mama. They’ll call me if you need me and I’ll come right back, okay?”

I always hated to leave my mama, but I couldn’t wait to get outta that damn nursing home. Peaches was waiting outside for me in his boyfriend’s car, and when I got in beside him his eyes was full of understanding. Peaches was good to me, and he was the only person in the whole world who really understood my soul. The woman laying in there in that bed mighta gave birth to me, but Peaches had been my mother when it really counted.

“You good, Madame Mink?” he asked softly.

I felt like shit inside, but a gwap was on the line so I wiped my tears and put on my game face and nodded.

Peaches touched my hair and smiled, and then we headed on back to Harlem.

BOOK: Natural Born Liar: The Misadventures of Mink LaRue

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