Pink Lips (20 page)

Although she was mad, Willow knew Nicole was one of those microwave bitches; she liked money quick, so she couldn't drain his account without breaking her off something. She could afford to spare some money, so she was going to be as fake as a three-dollar bill right now to try to lower what she would have to give her.

“Don't ‘hey, Miss DuBois' me.” Nicole pointed her long nail. “Yo' ass been here for months and I have yet to see you,” she said with a serious face. “I've seen Kail several times, but you, I haven't seen.”

“I'm sorry.” Willow leaned on the teller's window. “I just have been busy.”

“Busy getting shot with that nigga?” she asked.

“Yes, that was him and I was in the car.” Willow lifted her head up to expose her bandages, trying to earn sympathy points.

“You got shot?” she asked, falling into her trap.

“I got grazed, but a piece of the bullet got lodged in my throat, and they had to surgically remove it.” Willow rubbed her throat through the bandages.

“Girl, shut up,” she exclaimed, causing a scene.

“I'm dead-ass, but that's why I'm here. I need to get them duckies out of Duke's account.”

“What's in it for me?” she asked as she bit on her press-on nail.

“How much is in the account?”

“Demarcus Williams?” Willow nodded her head. “It says he has ninety-eight up in this bad boy, so that mean you want ninety back, right?” she asked, winking at her.

“I guess so,” Willow said, rolling her eyes.

“That's what's up.” She hopped off the stool while popping the gum in her mouth. “I'll be right back, girl. We ain't got that kind of bread up here, but I'll go get it.”

Willow tapped her fingers at the window waiting for her to return. Nicole came back with a paper for Willow to sign and a smile on her face from ear to ear. Willow guessed she had just gotten ninety-eight thousand from the back, but stopped and put that eight she was getting from her in her purse.

“You want me to put this in sumthin' or just hand it to you?” she asked, flashing the money at her.

“Just hand it to me,” Willow told her as she opened up her sixteen hundred-dollar Balenciaga handbag. It was the perfect size to hold the money.

“Be careful with that,” she warned her as she waved her off, “niggas is crazy these days.”

Willow left the bank, hugging her bag like her life depended on it, hoping she wasn't drawing too much attention to herself. She got inside the SUV and instructed the driver and guards to take her home.

A couple blocks away from her destination, she saw the red truck from her nightmares. Her mind raced as flashes of the night of the shooting came back to her. It was the same truck from that night.

As she was driving up the block, she saw a tall paper-sack-brown-skinned dude run out to the truck. He had to be at least six-five or six-six. He had on plaid shorts, a button-down shirt, and some house shoes. She saw a ring shining on every finger and a couple of necklaces around his neck. She wondered if Craig knew anything about him.

•  •  •

Willow made her way back to the condo to come up with a plan. She couldn't just sit by idle; she needed to know if that was the dude who killed Duke. She was deep in thought as she went to her room to hide the money she had gotten out of the bank account.

She picked up her phone and dialed. “Craig, can you come scoop me up?” she asked, stopping him from saying anything as he answered his cell phone.

“Where you at?” he asked as his voice got low. “Does Choice know about this?”

“I'm at my condo, but come to the back because security is watching me like a hawk. And, no, she doesn't know.” Willow put different items on top of the purse with the money in it.

“Security?” he asked as Willow checked herself out in the mirror.

“Don't worry about all that. Are you coming?”

“I'm on my way.” He hung up the phone.

He would be there in ten minutes and Willow wanted to be ready when he arrived. She grabbed a purse from a box of purses that she'd never worn. Her Christian Louboutins stomped throughout the condo as she made her way to the back exit.

She saw Craig pull up slowly to the back door. She entered the car, then ducked down when he passed the SUVs in front of her condo. She felt like a little kid sneaking off with her boyfriend in the middle of the night. She knew Rock meant well by trying to
protect her, but she was a menace to society in her own right. She could only be down for so long.

“So, what's up?” he asked.

“Stop,” she told him as she pointed to the house. “The dude who shot us lives here or knows somebody that does. The same truck from the night of the shooting was here.”

“So, this where that bitch-ass nigga stay?” Craig parked in front of the house.

“I think so, but dude's whip ain't here no more.”

“It's Saturday, baby,” he said as he started to drive off, “everybody who is anybody is at the Zone.”

Willow leaned back and enjoyed the ride. She cut the music up and let the wind that was seeping through the open windows cool her off. She had never been to the “Zone,” but the park was infamous. She had heard stories about it. All the hard-heads gathered there to chill on a weekly basis.

Loud music mixed with the smell of liquor entered Craig's car as they pulled into the park. Women were walking around with the best knock-off pieces while men sat around showing off their new guns. Willow felt like she was in a twilight zone; she knew with or without Craig next to her, she would be okay because she had her gun, if anything were to pop off.

They got out of the car as Craig saw some of his homeboys from around the way. He mouthed to Willow that he would be right back as he walked toward their direction. Willow sat on the hood of his car as she scoped her surroundings. She calmed her scoping when she saw Choice walking toward her.

“ 'Sup, trick,” Choice said as she sat down next to her on the hood of the car; her eyes looking back at it, wondering if it was Craig's or not.

Choice looked at Willow as she rolled down the half top she
was wearing to show off her womanly assets. The gold-colored sandals on her feet rested on the license plate bolted to the front of the car as her long hair held still in a ponytail. The small shorts hugging her body exposed her beautiful legs as every man within view gawked over them.

“What's up?” Willow responded in a nonchalant manner.

In the middle of their conversation, she saw the same red truck pull up. It was the same one from earlier. The same man from earlier got out of the car and made his way to a group of goons. Willow saw Craig on the other side of the park and when he noticed the red truck, he started to walk toward her in the parking lot.

“What's up, baby?” Craig approached Choice and gave her a kiss. “What you doing in the ‘Zone'?”

“Chilling with some of my bitches,” she rubbed on his dick area, making Willow feel uncomfortable.

“That's him,” Willow told Craig as she looked up at him.

“It is?” He looked down at her. “That's Talvin.”

They continued their conversation, but Willow's focus stayed on Talvin. She wanted to get closer to hear his voice. She finally knew who was responsible for the stitches in her neck, and vengeance was on her mind. The way he stood there without a worry infuriated her. She had to talk herself out of approaching him and putting her gun to his throat.

“I'll be back.” Craig pulled out his nine and walked off.

“Craig, don't do that.” Willow grabbed his shirt, but he pulled away.

Willow's eyes followed Craig's every move as he walked to the group of goons where Talvin was standing. Although what he was about to do was for her, Willow prayed he didn't start anything. Her prayers were in vain as Craig removed his gun and pointed it
at Talvin before he walked away to continue his conversation with his homeboys.

Willow stole glances at Talvin to sketch his face into her mind, never wanting to forget how he looked. He glanced back at her, their eyes staring each other down before he looked in another direction. The fact that he didn't remember her face from the night of the shooting was a good thing to her.

As night came, the park became deserted. Everyone left, including Choice. Willow opened the door to Craig's car and found him smoking. She hopped inside, grabbed the blunt from his lips, and hit it until she couldn't hit it anymore.

“What did you say to Talvin?” Willow asked him, while passing the blunt back to him.

“The truth.” He started the car and drove off.

“What do you mean?”

“I told that nigga if we didn't have the same boss, I'd blow his fucking brains out,” he said in a serious voice.

“I told you not to get in this shit. I don't need you handling shit for me.”

“I don't give a fuck,” he yelled, interrupting her. “You think they only made one gun when they made that nigga? Fuck that bitch-ass nigga.”

“Okay, I fucking get it, nigga, so calm down,” she told him and decided to change the subject. “So who do y'all work for? Is that the job you were telling me about back in Hawaii?”

“What's up with all these questions?”

“I'm just wondering.” She handed the blunt back to him.

“Some nigga named Rock. He the head nigga around here, and he got some crazy-ass loot. I'm tryna get like that one day.”

“He ain't shit.”

“How you know dude?”

“He's my father,” she answered in an annoyed tone.

“Stop fucking with me.” He stared at her, now understanding the resemblance between her and Melee.

“I'm serious.”

“Why you ain't tell me?”

“It's not something that I brag about.”

“Man, if niggas knew that was yo' pops, nobody in their right mind would fuck with you. That nigga Rock is ill. I should have known that nigga was yo' pops.”

Craig continued to show homage to Rock and all Willow could do was sit there. She wondered if her father was really that nigga like everybody made him out to be. She wondered if she would have it easier if she would actually acknowledge the fact.

Willow debated asking Craig what he knew about Rock. She needed to pay him a visit, even though she hadn't seen him since the day at the hospital. She could have asked Junior, but she wanted to go see him on her own.

“Craig, do you know where Rock rests his head?” she asked while she closed his door after they arrived at the condo.

“He stays in the suburbs in the south.”

“You know a street name?”

“Pinewood,” he said while puffing on the blunt.

“Thanks,” she told him as she gave him a kiss and waved goodbye.

“Wait.” He got out of the car. “That wasn't a real kiss.”

“That's the kind of kiss I give my girl's man,” Willow said with her back on the door.

“You know what,” Craig put his face close to hers, “you not even supposed to be kissing yo' girl's man at all. So, if you gon' do sum-thin', do it right.”

They were alone there in the moonlight. He held her close, and she was protected within the circle of his arms. He didn't think about the next time they would kiss; he had dreamed about it. Her lips looked so inviting, yet he didn't want to invade them. First, he kissed her cheek, and moved slowly closer to the sweetness of her lips. He remembered that her lips were at first moist, and cool. She slightly parted her lips, and he did the same. Such sweetness he had never imagined.

“I love you,” Craig said, looking into her eyes.

Willow stood there in shock for a moment, his statement catching her off-guard. Before she could even say anything, his strong arms were around her, holding her as close as possible while he bent down and kissed her gently. The soft kiss gradually turned into a deep, passionate one.

All of a sudden, she stopped and pulled away instantly. Alarmed, he looked down to her. “What's wrong?” Craig asked.

“Uh. . .Nothing. Sorry.” She turned around. He scratched the back of his head nervously.

She smiled back at him as she walked in the door. After entering the condo, she made it to the living room and Junior and Kail looked at her like they had just seen a ghost. They both stood and if looks could kill, Willow would have been dead.

“Yo, where the fuck you been?” Junior asked.

“Your ass went to the park,” Kail said as she hung up the phone with Choice. “You think that shit was smart?”

“I had Craig with me, so I was okay.”

“Craig?” Junior's voice rose. “Don't ever trust that nigga to look after you, because the next thing you know, your ass will come up missing,” he said, referring to Melee. “Don't leave until we figure this shit out, Willow.”

“I got it,” she said as she went into her room, “calm down.”

She thought about she and Craig kissing, but Talvin was also on her mind. She wasn't a female bitch, but it was something about Craig that she couldn't shake. She blamed her actions on the fact that Duke was dead, and she was mourning, but even with that truth, she knew it was more than that. That day on the plane, she had felt something special with Craig. She only hoped that it didn't blow up in her face.

W
illow walked down the stairs of her condo as the sun's rays glowed from the clear sky, melting the little ice that was left on the ground. With her Michael Kors purse hanging from her hand, she crossed the street, ignoring the calls from security.

She got inside her car, putting her purse in the passenger seat before accelerating down the road. Countless vibrations jiggled throughout her purse from her cell phone as Kail and Junior called nonstop, but she ignored every call.

Willow wasn't ignorant to nice things, but the houses on the street where Rock lived were not houses in her eyes; they were mansions. She eased through the neighborhood to look for signs of which would be his house. When she saw guards standing at attention, she knew she had found the right house.