Playing Dirty (10 page)

“Is Paul back yet?” I asked.

“Paul is not taking any visits or conducting any meetings today,” she said sternly, her face in a scowl. This bitch just didn’t know who she was fucking with today. I was ready to slap the shit out of her.

“I don’t want to visit his ass, nor do I want to have a fucking meeting. Now get the fuck out of my way before I call your trailer-park-ass husband and tell him about how you are fucking your boss.” I retaliated with vicious words.

She was left speechless and she stumbled back down into her seat. I burst into Paul’s office and he was on the phone. He looked up at the doorway in shock.

“Let me call you right back,” he said to the person on the other end of the phone line. He turned his attention to me. “What can I do for you, Yoshi Lomax?” he asked sarcastically. His fake-ass smile cracked his crispy-ass face.

“What kind of fucking games are you playing, Paul?” I sneered, biting into the side of my jaw. I had promised myself that I was not going to break down in front of Paul.

“Games? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Paul replied, playing dumb.

“Oh, so giving my office and parking spot to a fucking newbie is not a game?” I screamed, feeling the growing fire that was my temper burning in my chest and rising quickly up my neck.

“Well, Yoshi, you are a junior partner and he was hired as an associate partner. And, besides, you really didn’t need all that office space, because sooner or later the feds would have come and torn the walls off in there and ransacked everything, causing the firm thousands of dollars in repairs. And I told you, we can’t have that type of nonsense going on in here—that’s why we moved you to the back office. Back there, no one will even know that you’re here,” he answered, his words feeling like daggers stabbing me through the heart. “Speaking of which,” he continued, “did you ever find out what the hell they were looking for? Because I would sure like to know.”

“Fuck you, Paul, and the fucking boat you sailed to this country on!” I snapped. I had had enough of his bullshit. I had put my life and career at risk for the firm, and for what? I felt like an idiot standing in his office—an office I aspired to have one day. I wanted so badly to cry, but the hardened, cold, and vindictive person that I’d become wouldn’t let a tear drop. Instead, I immediately thought of something that would get to his ass.

“Okay, Paul. You want to play that game, huh? Well, let’s get ready to take a ride, because I’m about to get into the driver seat of this car and I am going to take you on a fucking whirlwind. I like revenge, just like you, and I think Mrs. Shapiro would love to hear from me,” I started.

I could see the anger rising on Paul’s face. But I continued; “Yeah, Paul, how about I tell your precious wife how you come in my pussy and in my ass and suck it back out. Oh wait—no, how about I tell her that her precious Paul likes it when I fuck him in the ass with my dildo and act like I’m another man!” I gritted my teeth, letting the words sink in. I just wanted him to feel like I was feeling—hurt, lost, used, and afraid. Paul’s eyes darkened to a color that I don’t think I’ve ever seen before—black, with a flash of red, and piercing. His face turned a burnt orange as blood rushed to his cheeks. In one swift motion, he leaped out of his chair and was standing so close to my face I could smell the cinnamon Altoids on his breath.

“You bitch! If you even go near my wife, I will kill you. You think you can threaten me? I know all about you. All about how you came from a peasant-whore bitch who sucked cock to feed her daughter after her husband walked out on her ass,” Paul started, small drips of his spit landing on my cheeks.

But before Paul could finish talking about my mother, I slapped the shit out of him. It was a knee-jerk reaction, so he knew I was pissed. At the same beat of the drum, Paul grabbed my face roughly, like he was about to do me some serious bodily harm. Just as he was about to raise his fist, his door swung open. It was his nosy-ass assistant. She must’ve heard the commotion and figured we were having an afternoon fuck session.

“Mr. Shapiro…Mr. Witherspoon is on line one,” she said, looking from me to Paul and from Paul to me. Paul let go of my face and straightened up. That poor white-trash bitch didn’t know she had just saved me from whatever wrath Paul was about to unleash. I inhaled deeply, kind of relieved. I brushed myself off and stormed toward his door.

“You think you won, Paul, but as God is my witness, you will pay for every fucked-up thing you’ve ever done to me or anybody else.”

“Get out of my office!” he yelled.

“With pleasure,” I replied, and then I stormed out the door.

After I left Paul’s office, I stormed by everyone’s office that I couldn’t stand and made loud and lewd comments about them. They all looked at me like I was crazy, but I didn’t give a fuck. The way I was feeling, I could’ve spit in all their faces and not even give a damn about what consequences I would’ve faced. The way things were looking for me around here, my chances of becoming partner were slim to none. As a matter of fact, the likelihood that I was going to be working here in the next several months looked even bleaker. So I saw that I was going to have to get on the ball and get shit rolling. Shit, if these bastards around here wanted to throw shit on my lawn, then I was going to throw shit right back on theirs. And watch and see who got the last laugh. What was going to fuck their heads up even worse was when I left this place altogether and started up my own firm. I mean, hey, I had the revenue and the fucking clients to do it. So, to hell with all these motherfuckers! I was always going to remain on top. And I would die doing it.

On my way to my small-ass office, I didn’t bother to look for Donna. I mean, it was clear that she’d been fired. So, why run down behind her when I was walking on thin ice myself? When I stepped inside this box, I immediately felt claustrophobic. The room was so damn small, I didn’t have enough room to put all my things inside it. So, you know I was fucking furious. I mean, how could I go from a penthouse to a fucking studio apartment? That shit didn’t make sense! On top of that, this room didn’t have a fucking window. And if I’m not crazy, this room used to be a fucking utility room. And now they wanted to stuff my ass in here. Well, no can do! I would not tolerate this type of treatment, so something would be done about this. And I meant it. Instead of unpacking my things, I just left everything the way it was. I grabbed my car keys and my handbag and hauled ass out of there before anyone could blink their eyes.

“Leaving so soon?” Eric asked as he accompanied me on the elevator.

I stared at his ridiculous-looking ass from head to toe and said, “Mind your fucking business, please!”

He snickered to himself like I had said something humorous. It irritated the hell out of me. I knew he was doing this to ruffle my feathers, and it was definitely working. “What the fuck is so funny?” I snapped.

“It just amazes me how you will not humble yourself under no circumstances. Look at you, you still have this cocky attitude and your world is falling apart right before your very eyes,” he commented.

“Oh, so you think because Paul kicked me out of my office, my world is falling apart? Well, let me be the first to tell you that it’s not. That little fucking office he stuck me in has no bearing on the reputation I have as an attorney. I am very wealthy and I am nothing to fuck with, because I know the law better than you know yourself. So instead of filling your mind up with the ridiculous theory that my world is falling apart, try concentrating on your own fucked-up life. ’Cause if I can recall, you haven’t won a case in the past four months. And if you don’t get yourself on track, you’re going to be the next one Paul shoves in one of those back offices. Better yet, he might just get rid of your ass altogether. I mean, it’s not like you’re a top earner around here,” I replied, the venom spitting from my mouth.

“You bitch!” he uttered, his face bright red.

Right when I was about to let his ass have it, the elevator door opened, so I only called him a loser. I stepped off the elevator and then I turned all the way around and waved good-bye to him as the elevator door closed back up.

Walking away from that scene made me feel really good. Eric had always gotten under my skin. He had been hating on me since the first day I started working here, and I honestly couldn’t take it anymore. Hopefully, he learned a good lesson from this, and that’s not to fuck with Yoshi Lomax. I was one chick you don’t need to play with.

On my way home Maria called my BlackBerry twice, but I pressed down on the ignore button and kept it moving. How dare she try to contact me after all the shit that went down? I mean, what could she want to talk about after sending her boys to ransack my fucking office? Was she snorting the same fucking drug I was? Because if she was, then she’d definitely have a good explanation for her actions.

But in all fairness, I knew Maria and I knew she had to have had her back against the wall for her to turn on me like she did. So I didn’t hate her at all. The only problem I did have was that I knew she and I weren’t going to be cool like we used to be. That friendship we had was now over for good—so that meant no more trade-offs of information for money, which was going to really hurt me in the long run. But I’d be okay. Trust and believe, I’d find another source in this corrupt city. All I had to do was turn over a couple of rocks and they’d come crawling out.

T
hat small-ass office I was forced to move into was really bothering me. My recreational cocaine use was getting a bit out of control. I found myself spending my own cash and copping my own shit, almost on a daily basis. I was in control—that was what I told myself every single day I found myself pushing the straw up my nose. Although I was getting high, I was still one bad bitch, and I still had motherfuckers requesting me to represent them daily. I was just too embarrassed to let any of my clients see my new workspace, so I always escorted them to one of the four conference rooms that the firm had. It had been working out pretty well, if I say so myself.

Now, Paul was another story. He was trying to throw shade every which way he could. I also told myself I could handle his ass as well. I had promised myself that after my little meeting with him, I was going to send his wife an anonymous letter, just to let him know I wasn’t playing with his ass.

But somehow or another I got lost in all the shit I had on my plate and I didn’t even bother. For instance, the first thing that happened after my meeting with Paul was that Judge Casey was carried out of his courtroom in handcuffs by the feds on national television. The feds had him on charges of bribery and gratuities. So I am like, “What the fuck is going on here?” That was the first time, in a long time, that I was scared as hell. I was so fucking shook, hoping that Casey didn’t turn me in as one of the attorneys who had paid him for favorable outcomes in the courtroom. I waited days and days after I saw the news report of his arrest and nothing happened. I’d reasoned that he wasn’t stupid enough to turn me in.

Other things in my life had also spiraled out of control—I mean so fast that my head was spinning daily. I had now gone from using cocaine once daily to three to four times a day. The shit happened so fast, I couldn’t remember where I’d gone wrong. I knew shit was getting bad when I contemplated selling one of my Rolexes for cash. Although I had money stashed in all kinds of accounts, I also knew a high-priced cocaine habit could make a bitch broke in no time. So instead of spending my own fucking money, I figured that there were many people with access to good coke who owed me their lives.

In short, I went back to fucking with Luis Santana and his wife, Adrianna—and, trust me, they had an endless supply of coke. That funny coke those fucking Santanas kept was the kind of shit that made me feel like dancing.

When I first called Mr. Santana, I hung up the telephone six or seven times before I got up the courage to say that I wanted to see them again.

“Come on by,” he said. “Adrianna has been asking about you a lot lately,” he continued.

“That’s nice to know,” I said, setting my sights on the pile of coke I knew they would have at their disposal.

When I arrived at their estate this night, the guard at the security gate let me right in. Damn, am I that well-known over here already? I thought. This time when I arrived was different; there were no smiling faces at the front door to greet me. This time, Luis had his maid let me in, which was strange, because I’d become accustomed to him and Adrianna greeting me.

I followed the maid inside. I walked into the massive foyer of their mansion—the mansion I had helped them keep by getting him off. I had a habit of mentally taking credit for every single thing that he had acquired. Even if Adrianna bought a new pair of drawers, I would think, It’s because of me that this bitch can afford those drawers.

I was asked to wait in the huge den that sat off the front foyer. I waited there for Luis and Adrianna and their cocaine—free cocaine. The maid did kind of a little bow in front of me and left. It was a weird feeling, being at their house. It always was. I mean, it wasn’t that long ago that he was my fucking client and needed me; now I fucking needed his ass. Something I would never admit to him or anyone else for that matter.

I looked around the den. I could tell that they definitely had an interior decorator—only a professional could put that ugly-ass furniture together with paint and accessories and make it look as good as it did. There were huge paintings of Luis and Adrianna hanging on all four walls, two of them together and one of each of them individually. How vain was that? I made a mental note to have my portrait painted and hang it up in my penthouse.

“Ahhh, Yoshi,” Luis called to me from behind. He grabbed me around my waist, like he was my man and happy to see me. His hands were cold and I winced as he moved them up my bare back. I immediately felt uneasy. My greed for cocaine was keeping me anchored there, because my logical brain was calling me a stupid bitch for being there and risking everything I had worked so hard for.

“You look stunning as usual,” he commented, referring to my tight white second-skin Cavalli jeans and my open-back drape-front BCBG MaxAzria top.

I kissed him on both cheeks, as this was now our customary greeting. Luis had on just a robe, and when I leaned in to kiss him, he let it fall open. He exposed his beautiful nine-inch dick that I was desperate for.

Seeing his dick made me have a flashback to the night of his party. Back at the hotel room, he had sprinkled cocaine on the tip of his dick and I sniffed it off; then I sucked the huge piece of meat until I gagged.

“Adrianna awaits us at the pool house,” Luis said, ushering me toward a large glass door. I really couldn’t care less about Luis or Adrianna—what I wanted were the good drugs they supplied. I entered the pool house and I was taken aback. There were about six extra people there. I immediately looked at Luis, confused and a little angry. He had set me up.

“Yoshi, this is our swinging group. We wanted them to meet you,” Luis explained.

Swinging! I screamed in my head. Luis must have been losing his fucking mind; I thought our little thing was exclusive. My heart started racing and little sweat beads lined up like soldiers on my hairline. I took the back of my hand and swiped my forehead. I had to think. I couldn’t participate in anything like this and risk being exposed. Luis had promised that our little thing was private…just between us. He had betrayed me!

“Luis, I can’t stay,” I said nervously, not wanting any of the other people to recognize me. But when I looked over at the wooden bar and saw the cocaine, all logic and thoughts of leaving went out the window. I told myself that if I stayed for only ten minutes, that would be enough time to get two lines in and get out of there. Luis didn’t even have to speak the words. He already knew that I had it bad for the cocaine.

“Yoshi, don’t look at it. Help yourself,” he said, pointing toward what I had really come there for.

I walked over to the bar, picked up their customary metal straws, and snorted two lines. Two lines made me feel right. Adrianna knew me so well that she was right on top of me after I finished. If they came on to me immediately after I did a line, I was down for whatever. But after my drugs wore off, I was terribly embarrassed and always raced home.

“C’mere,” Adrianna said seductively. She was always so high, I could never tell if she was ever sober. I followed her lead. One of Gloria Estefan’s songs was playing, which was regular in their household. Adrianna took me over to a small curved chair; it was purple suede and S-shaped.

Without saying a word, she pulled down the front of my shirt, which was barely covering my titties anyway. She took a handful of cocaine and smeared the white devil powder all over my tits. I started giggling like a high-school bitch about to get her first piece. Adrianna smiled, looked at me wickedly, and buried her face in my chest. She snorted up the powder like her nose was a vacuum cleaner. Then she licked me from nipple to nipple, flicking her tongue roughly over my erect nipples.

The drugs sent a tingling sensation through my areolas, which made them very sensitive to her tongue. I was in ecstasy for real. Before I could say a word, another girl, whom I did not know, came over to join us. The girl stood about five feet five inches and had jet black hair. At first glance, she looked like Kim Kardashian; I had to do a double take.

The new girl lifted Adrianna’s thin see-through skirt and began eating Adrianna’s pussy from the back. That drove me wild. I frantically started fidgeting with my pants buttons. I was so horny from the drugs and Adrianna that I didn’t know what to do with myself.

When I got my pants down, Adrianna did the same thing with the cocaine, but on my clit. She sucked on my clit like it was a pacifier, and as swollen as it was, that is exactly what it looked like. I could feel my chest heaving with excitement. Adrianna moved from my clit, took her hands and parted my pussy lips wide open. I was dripping wet by now. She stuck her tongue in and out of my hole rapidly with no countable rhythm. I threw my head back on that little curved chair and let her work. I felt like I was in some kind of heaven…maybe not the one saints go to, but this certainly wasn’t hell. I felt cum welling up in my loins and I was about to explode.

“Arrghhh,” I moaned. I grabbed Adrianna’s head forcefully and pushed her farther into my pussy. She jumped up and stopped. My eyes popped open to see what happened, and just as I opened them, I saw Luis getting on his knees with his dick in his hands. He mounted me and drove his dick so far up in me I screamed out in pleasurable pain. Luis pumped up and down on me and Adrianna came and stood over my face. She put her pussy over my mouth and I stuck out my tongue to oblige her.

Luis fucked me until he was ready to come. Right before he was about to burst, he stood up and let his cum shoot all over my face and Adrianna’s pussy. The black-haired girl was right there and she came over to me and started licking Luis’s cum off my chin.

I had never felt so good in my life. All my years of fucking men for money, positions, and drugs, I had never had this kind of experience or orgasm—not even with Brad. I was hooked, not only to the bomb-ass cocaine they had, but to the Santanas themselves.

That night ended like all the others. I was high to the point of delirium, and I ended up being put in my penthouse by God knows who.

I awoke to my BlackBerry ringing. I grabbed for it and read the messages. There was one from Sheldon Chisholm. I sat up in my bed, wincing at my spinning head. I placed the phone to my ear and listened.

“Ms. Lomax, I was arrested for a murder I didn’t commit. You need to come see me now!” he barked into the receiver.

I almost dropped the phone. What the hell did Sheldon go and do now? He was supposed to keep his shit clean; I mean, he knew his ass was out on bail. I was barely prepared for his simple drug trial with all of the judges getting hemmed up by the feds, and now this.

I stood up on wobbly legs and walked to the bathroom. When I looked up at myself in the mirror, I was horrified. My hair was standing up on my head, and my slanted Asian eyes were almost swollen shut. My cheeks were puffy and my skin was ashen. I was immediately reminded of the old…not-so-fabulous me: the Yoshi who barely had two outfits in college and who wore no makeup and never had her hair professionally done.

Looking in that mirror took me back to a sad place in my life—to a time when I was fucking for money just to eat and to help my mother pay my way through school. I looked at myself again and remembered that although I had diamonds, cars, a penthouse, and every designer label imaginable, I was still a third-generation Korean-peasant piece of shit.

I held my head down over the sink and splashed water on my face. I had to do something with myself; I couldn’t go back to those days and that was right where I was heading. I was at the point that I wasn’t just dabbling with cocaine; I was full out chasin’ it. And it was getting out of control. So out of control that I didn’t know if I was coming or going. I knew one thing, though. If I didn’t get my shit back in order, I was going to fall flat on my face, and no one was going to help me get back up—not even Maria.

So I yelled for Ophelia to get me a drink from my minibar, while I took a hot shower. I knew I was going to need some type of alcohol in me to deal with Sheldon’s bullshit this morning. Immediately after I stepped into my tub, I buried my face underneath the shower nozzle for a good five minutes until I was completely awake. Moments later I bathed myself and then I got out of the shower to get dressed. I knew time was of the essence, so it didn’t take me long to throw on some attire. I ended up slipping on a pair of Chip & Pepper jeans, along with a cute little button-down Polo shirt. And since I wasn’t in the mood to do anything special to my hair, I combed it back into a ponytail and headed out the door.

On my way down to the Miami-Dade County Jail, I told myself to stay calm. Sheldon needed me; it wasn’t the other way around. I also told myself that I would be charging his ass another two hundred thousand for this murder case. He’d paid me to get him off on those drug charges, but a body? Nah, he was going to have to come up out of his pocket for this shit. I had already placed a call to the district attorney’s office to find out who was on the case. I was told the assistant district attorney assigned to the case was Tiffany Wheatt, and she wasn’t one of the ADAs on my payroll.

“Fuck me!” I cursed out loud when I found out who I was assigned. Where the fuck was Brad? He had taken my fucking money and promised me freedom for Sheldon, and up until now I hadn’t heard from his fucking ass. I had a bone to pick with him.

I sat in the attorney waiting area as I waited for the CO to bring Sheldon over to me. I didn’t realize it at first, but my legs were shaking back and forth nervously. I had to catch myself—this wasn’t me. I was usually cool as a cucumber under pressure. But I had noticed that my nerves had been on edge since I started tooting again. So when I looked up and saw them approaching, I inhaled and thought of what I would say.

Sheldon hobbled over to the chair in front of me. He was handcuffed in the front, and his feet were shackled. His face, as usual, held no expression, except for the ugly grill he was born with.

“It’s good to know you got my message,” he said, frowning.

“Yes, I did,” I said, and then I looked down into my folder, like I was looking over some notes.