Sins of a Siren (11 page)

He smirked as they walked toward the elevators. “I didn't expect you to give me a key to your room just because I paid for it.”

She pressed the button for the eighth floor. “Bullshit! What man would pay for a room—an
expensive
room—and not expect some sort of compensation?”

“You're right; I do expect something from you.”

She crossed her arms. “I'm listenin'.”

He checked his watch. “I expect you to hurry up and put that bag away so we won't be late for our next stop.”

The elevator doors parted and they stepped inside. “
Next
stop?”

“Yes. This is just the first leg of our journey.”

The elevator swiftly carried them to the eighth floor. “When did this turn into a journey? I thought this was just a spontaneous moment?”

He followed her out the elevator. Recessed track lights in the ceiling illuminated the plush, light gray carpet and eggshell-colored walls. “Our moment isn't ove—” His cell phone rang. He flipped it open and looked at Trenda. “Hold on one sec.”

She crossed the hallway and looked into the chrome-framed mirror mounted to the wall. She listened as he tried to answer a flurry of questions.
Sounds like Dimples is needed at the meetin' after all.

He told the person he was talking to, to hold on. “Hey, Mya, I have to run across town for a while.” He pressed the button to call the elevator, went inside his jacket pocket and removed a gold-plated business card holder. He ejected a card and handed it to her. “Meet me in the lobby at six so we can go to dinner. You can reach me at the number on the card.”

Before she could answer, the elevator arrived. He put the phone to his ear as the elevator doors opened. He stepped inside, pressed the lobby button and rejoined his conversation. She hitched her bag up on her shoulder as he waved at her through the closing doors. She gave him a smirk, then walked down the hallway to room 8011. After entering the room, she placed one cardkey in her bag and the other on the coffee table. She placed the bag on the ottoman in front of the leather wingback chair, grinned and looked around the impressive room.
Walter, you just might have earned a piece of pussy.

She picked up her bag and opened the door to the bedroom. A pair of mahogany nightstands flanked the king-sized bed. Two
gold lamps sprouted from the wall over the bed. She opened her bag, removed her dirty clothes and put them in the clothes hamper in the closet. The adjoining bathroom was huge. She stood in front of the dual marble sinks and inspected herself in the large lighted mirror.

I have gotta get some more clothes.
She returned to the bed and removed her cell phone and charger. She turned on her phone and plugged the charger into the outlet next to the bed. She attempted to check her messages and found her phone service was interrupted. “Shit! I forgot my bill was due last week.” She checked the cash in her wallet. “I had better get outta here and handle my business.”

On the way out of the hotel, she spotted a sign in the lobby pointing to the laundry room. She also made note of the sign pointing to the pool and spa.
Damn! This joint is straight up five-star!

Several hours later, after paying her cell phone bill and purchasing a few new outfits, Trenda returned to her room. She changed into a new pair of tight, bell-bottom jeans and form-fitting white blouse. Once she'd put away the rest of her new clothes, her phone rang. She answered without checking the caller ID, thinking it was Walter. “Hello?”

“Hey, bitch…remember me?”

Piper's heavy voice chilled her ear. She hung up and sat heavily on the bed. The phone rang again.
Piper
. Trenda shut the phone off, lay on her back and exhaled. As it had all her life, trouble found her again. From taking the blame for stealing hair relaxer so her friend Sandy wouldn't get in trouble with her abusive father to being beaten by her mother for bringing home a stray cat and feeding it—trouble seemed to have always had her on speed dial. She closed her eyes. “I'm sure glad there's a few thousand miles between me and that nutty ho.”

T
wo hours before calling Trenda, a stranger knocked on Piper's door. She adjusted her new eyeglasses and looked into the peephole in her door. “Who is it?”

Darius's partner, Tyrone, stepped back so she could get a good look at him.
I sure hope this crazy plan works…
“My name's Eric. I'm looking for Piper Langford.”

She opened the door and studied the dark brown man eye-to-eye. “How do you know me?”

“We have a mutual friend…Trenda Fuqua.”

The rage he saw behind Piper's glasses was unmistakable. “That bitch is
not
my friend. What do you know about her? Do you know where she is?”

Tyrone looked up and down the hallway. “Can we go inside and talk?”

Piper studied him a moment longer, then stepped aside and let him in. She motioned toward her sofa. “Have a seat.”

He watched the bulky woman flop onto the loveseat across from him. Tyrone mentally went over the script he and Darius had formulated. “I'm gonna get straight to the point; Trenda used me. We were supposed to get married next month but instead, she conned me. She managed to get the passwords to my bank accounts and credit cards. She pretty much drained all my money and fucked up my credit. I also found out she returned the engagement ring I gave her and kept the cash…told me she was havin' it resized. She is fuckin'
scandalous
.”

Piper's face soured. “
Married
! She was going to
marry
you?” He gave a solemn look and nodded. “Yes…she accepted my proposal a few months ago.”

Piper's right eye twitched. “How could she do that? I didn't even know she liked men until I saw her on video giving this cop a blowjob. We had been lovers for over a year!”

Yeah, this big bitch is gettin' worked up now
! Tyrone feigned shock. “
What
? She told me you were just a friend she shared an apartment with. No wonder she never let me come here to visit. We always had to stay at my place when it came time for us to be intimate.”

Piper rose to her feet. “She didn't tell you about
us
?”

“No, nothing more than her letting you move in with her.”

Piper slammed her beefy fist on top of an expensive Bose speaker, causing it to fall off its base. “That bitch! This is
my
place! I let her homeless-ass move in with
me
!” She paced the floor. A tear puddled behind the right lens of her glasses, then ran down her cheek. “I gave that cunt everything.
Every-fucking-thing!”

He wiped his hand down his face. “I can't believe she played both of us! I should have known what kind of person she was by the way she talked about you.”

Piper walked over and loomed over him. “
What?
”

He scooted back from her. “Well…I don't think you want to—”

“
Tell me
, goddammit!”

I'd better get up before her fat-ass pins me down
. He eased up off of the sofa. “She used to always tell me how you were such a…fool… she bragged about how she had you pay for all her stuff. I told her she was wrong for doing it, but she said that's the only thing you were good for…made me wonder what she said behind
my
back.”

She reeked with fury. “I'll kill that fucking cunt! After all I did… goddamn her!”

Tyrone watched in horror as she picked up an ink pen off of the coffee table and repeatedly jabbed it in her thigh. He then went into his back pocket and removed a folded piece of paper. “I see we want the same thing…I want her ass to
pay
.” He unfolded the sheet of paper and held it out to Piper.

She stopped stabbing her thick thigh and glared at him. “What the hell is that?”

“I did some investigatin' and found out where she went.” She dropped the pen, snatched the paper out of his hand and began reading it. “That's the information on the train she took to Oakland, California a few days ago. I was gonna go find her myself, but I have to go to Florida and take care of my mother for a while. She's in the late stages of cancer.”

Piper held the paper as if it was the map to a treasure. “That's okay; I'm going to go find her myself. I
might
leave her alive long enough for you to spit in her face before I kill her ass.”

He saw a small, dark stain blooming under her tan stretch pant leg covering her thigh.
Shit! This broad is nutty as a Snickers bar!
“Good! She deserves whatever she gets.” He watched as Piper mumbled to herself while staring at the sheet of paper. “Uh…I'll check with you later.”

Piper looked at him with eyes of the insane. “You do that.”

He cleared his throat. “Okay…my cell phone number's on the paper. Keep me posted.” He slowly walked away as she stared at him. Once outside the door, glad the cell phone number was one of the two dummy accounts set up for them by Darius, he hurried out the apartment and called his partner. “Man, that broad is
certifiable
! I damn near feel sorry for Trenda.”

The following morning, Piper woke up early with the slip of paper Tyrone had given her still in her hand. She unfolded the crumpled paper as she walked over and logged onto her computer. “I'm coming for you, bitch.” She navigated the internet until she came across a listing of Oakland area private detectives. She settled for the firm with the most impressive website and dialed their number.

“Dickerson Investigations, Nancy speaking, may I help you?” Piper pulled her robe closed over her huge naked tits. “Yes, I need to find a missing person.”

“Okay, let me get you over to one of our investigators.”

“Get me to your
best
investigator.”

“Well…
all
of our investigators are former federal agents and are all quite qualified.”

A vein on Piper's forehead began to throb. “Look, I want the best. I want the investigator with the
best
success rate. The cost is of no concern.”

After a pregnant pause, Nancy cleared her throat. “Although all of our agents have impressive success ratios, I think Mr. Martin would be able to assist you. I'll put you through to him. What's your name, ma'am?”

Piper sat back in her chair and waited to be connected.
Funny how fast you can get what you want when money is mentioned.
“Fine. My name is Ms. Langford.”

Seconds later, a baritone voice spoke. “Hello, Ms. Langford. I'm Hank Martin. I understand you need help finding a missing person?”

After an hour-long conversation, Piper emailed Hank a few pictures of Trenda, provided him with the Amtrak train information, gave him the number of her Platinum American Express Card, and told him to put a rush on finding her. “Like I told your
receptionist, I don't care how much it costs, I want her found.”

Hank looked at his computer screen and saw that her credit card was valid and grinned. “I just moved your case to my top priority. I'll report back to you within seventy-two hours. Good day, Ms. Langford.”

T
renda did her best to shake off the phone call from Piper, but that anger-filled voice haunted her. Instead of letting it handicap her, she got up, gathered up her dirty laundry and went downstairs to the laundry room. While waiting for her clothes to finish, she went into the lobby, picked up one of the complimentary copies of the
Oakland Tribune
, and scoured the want ads.
I'd better find me some kinda job until I can get my hustle on.
None of the minimum wage jobs appealed to her. The majority of the other jobs required a college degree she lacked. She sighed, folded the paper and put it back on the large, round coffee table. She removed her cell phone from her small Coach bag.
That bitch probably has filled up my voicemail.
Relief washed over her once she saw that Piper had left her no messages. A grin fixed her lips once she saw it was almost five. “Time for me to get ready for dinner with Dimples.”

After gathering her laundry, she went to her room, put the clothes away, showered and stood naked, trying to decide what to wear. She settled for an ankle-length tan, denim skirt, a copper, tight, short-sleeved V-neck sweater and a pair of sexy copper pumps. As she put on her gold hoop earrings, the phone on the nightstand rang. She answered. “Hello?”

“Hello, Red! I'm starving so hurry and get your butt down here to the lobby.”

She chuckled at how he had picked up the nickname people in her family called her because of her severely red hair. “And what
makes you think I'm going with you? I might already have a date, Mr. Man.”

“Well, if that's the case, he'd have to come eat at the bar because I have reserved a table for
two
at Dorsey's Locker. I hope you like soul food.”