Street Chronicles Girls in the Game (11 page)

Just as I was getting ready to change my India. Arie CD, Bob pulled up behind me in an unmarked car. He walked over to the passenger side, holding a brown envelope, and got in.

“Bob, what's going on? You got me nervous as hell.”

“You know, Chris, we go way back, and I hate to do this to you, but—” Bob said.

“But what?” I cut him off.

“Here,” he said, handing me the envelope. I opened it, pulling out about ten Polaroid pictures and a few newspaper clippings. The first picture was of a baldheaded, thick-lipped brotha with his arms around a female who looked exactly like my Renée. He was holding the camera in front of them, taking the picture himself. The next picture was the same brotha, only this time he was lying across a bed and the girl was lying under his arm, wearing nothing but a bra and panties, as he snapped the picture of the two of them. The next picture was of the girl. She was now posing, completely naked, on the same bed, and by now I realized that it was definitely Renée.

“What the fuck?” I said, now scanning through the other photos, all of which either included Renée posing naked, in lingerie, or in this dude's arms.

“Is this Melvin Jones?” I asked, holding up one of the pictures with the two of them.

“Yes. Melvin Jones, aka Tank,” Bob answered. “It looks like your lady friend and Mr. Jones are very chummy.”

I looked through the newspaper clippings. A couple of them were pictures of me and Renée at formal affairs we had attended together. One of the headlines read, “Has the New Commonwealth's Attorney Met His Fair Lady?”

“What does this mean?” I said, not specifically seeking an answer from Bob, more from myself. All of a sudden I felt as if someone had just hit me in the face with a cast-iron skillet. The more I stared at the pictures, the tighter my stomach got. I felt betrayed, angry, and confused, all rolled up in one.

“Listen, Chris, I didn't show the pictures to anyone. I tried to get them out of the house without anybody noticing. But there might be others.”

“I know. I know. I appreciate it, Bob. I need to talk to Renée right now. Come on, tell me, as a detective, what do you think is going on?”

“Really, I thought about it on my way over here. Maybe they are trying to create a scandal of some sort and place you in the middle. ‘Jealous commonwealth's attorney working to convict drug-dealing ex-boyfriend of current girlfriend.’ They can make the Jones case look tainted and get it thrown out.”

“Come on, Bob, I had no idea Renée had any involvement with this thug.”

“I know that, but how will the defense attorney take all this?”

“Okay, okay. What is she trying to do to me? This shit is crazy! Absolutely crazy! I can't believe it! This woman told me she loved me. We talked about marriage, and she's fucking around with some thug. I don't believe this!” I slammed my hands on the steering wheel, causing the horn to blow.

“I don't know, Chris. I'm sorry, man. I need to get back to New Kent to see what else comes up. You have my number. Call me if you need me,” Bob said, patting me on the shoulder. He got out of the car, leaving me there with the pictures. In one of the pictures I swear Renée was wearing one of the Victoria's Secret bra and panty sets I bought for her, which told me these pictures were recent. It didn't seem like this was an ex-boyfriend at all. But when did she find time to see him? How deep was it? Did she love him? She told me she loved me. I pulled the car onto Broad Street and headed back to Grandma Lucy's house. I dialed Renée's cell phone number.

“Hello?” she said, sounding anxious to hear my voice.

“Hey, I'm on my way. Look, we need to talk. I should be there
in about fifteen minutes. Be outside in the front.” I didn't even give her enough time to respond. I wanted her to tell me everything, her point of view, before I jumped to conclusions. Maybe she was forced to take these pictures so that they could be used as blackmail. Maybe he threatened to kill her if she told me. I would find out soon enough.

I pulled in front of Grandma Lucy's, and Renée was standing on the porch as requested. I didn't get out of the car. I just blew the horn so she could come and get in. Grandma Lucy was in the doorway. She had a look on her face as if she was wondering where we were off to.

“I'll be back in a few minutes, Grandma Lucy,” I yelled. Renée got in the car and just sat there staring at me. She was so beautiful. I had a hard time trying to be cruel to her.

“What's going on, Chris?” she asked.

“I'll tell you in a minute.” I drove away from the house and headed toward Broad Street. I pulled over in the abandoned Staples parking lot and took a deep breath before putting the car in park. “Renée, I need you to tell me everything you know about Melvin Jones.” The strangest look came across her face. You would have thought that I told her I was HIV positive from her expression. She just sat there, not answering. “What did he do to you? Did he rape you? Did he force you to do something you didn't want to do?”

“Chris, calm down,” she said.

“Calm down? Calm down? Here, now you tell me I should calm down.” I threw the envelope of pictures to her. She took them out one by one, looking at them as if she'd never seen them before.

“What the fuck is going on? Talk to me, Renée!” I yelled.

“I don't know what to say. It wasn't supposed to happen like this,” she said, continuing to look through the pictures.

“What wasn't supposed to happen like this? Tell me what is going on, now!” She appeared to be nonchalant about the whole thing.

“Chris, listen, I'm going to explain the whole thing to you, but first I need to talk to Tank. Those pictures … they aren't what they seem.”

“You need to talk to Tank about what? You need to talk to me. Tell me what's going on. We were talking about marriage, for Christ sake! And you are going to sit here and tell me you need to talk to Tank? Fuck Tank!”

She crossed her arms and looked out the window.

“Say something!” I yelled. “Answer me, damn it!”

I couldn't believe how these motherfuckers were tearing up my house. All I could do was sit there and let them look around, trying to find something that ain't here. I never kept product in the house, never. And the bodies I had on the land, I had started moving them one by one right after Labor Day. Each day I'd take the remains, cut them up in pieces, put them in a suitcase, take a train up to Baltimore, then throw the suitcase into the Chesapeake Bay late at night. See, I knew eventually the day would come when they would come to my house trying to dig up dirt. But I dug the shit up first, literally.

The only thing they got were some pictures of me and Renée. I knew what I was doing by leaving them out. See, I couldn't let Renée know everything. If she knew everything, she probably would not have agreed to go along this far. I knew that the police had been after me for years. I knew they had been trying to build
a kingpin charge on me, too, but all of that would be null and void by the time the judge saw that nigga had been trying to frame me so he could have my girl all to himself All that needed to happen was for the police to find the fake-ass letters I planted in the kitchen drawer from that nigga Chris, threatening to set me up, all on his letterhead. On top of that, Renée left me keys to his office and his house, so I was able to plant so much evidence to incriminate that nigga, he'd wish he never even thought about meeting Renée.

I figured the original plan might've worked, but I couldn't take the chance of Renée having a change of heart. You know, she might've fallen for the nigga or something. I knew I'd done some fucked-up shit to Renée in the past. See, women get emotionally attached where men are concerned, so I had to play it safe with this whole setup. Was it right? Probably not, seeing as this put Renée in a fucked-up situation, but I needed to look out for myself. At the moment, she didn't know what cards to play Lucky for me I knew her so well—I knew she wouldn't tell him anything until she found out what was going on. She wouldn't incriminate me in any way.

Now I had to get to Renée, tell her to tell him that we dated before, hooked up a few times since they met, but that I meant nothing to her. Plant in his head that the only reason she got with me recently was because I threatened to hurt Chris. I would tell her they found the pictures by accident, so we would have to change our stories. Everything would fall into place. I realized this scandal could possibly affect Renée's career, but she'd bounce back. She had a degree; plus she was smart, so she'd be all right. But I couldn't take the chance of going up for a kingpin charge on top of a possible murder charge, so I had to do something.

I walked outside and sat in my truck, leaving the police officers
to have a field day trashing my house. I connected my voice recorder to my cell phone, then dialed Renée's cell phone.

“Hello?” Renée answered.

“Hey, baby. Where are you?” I asked her.

“Tank, you need to tell me,” she said, followed by a shuffling sound. Just then, a male voice came on the line. I could only assume it was Chris.

“Look, you twisted bastard, I don't know what you're trying to do to me and my woman, but I'm going to make sure that you rot in hell. You understand me?” asked Chris.

“This must be Chris,” I said, cool, calm, and collected.

“You goddamn right this is Chris. What are you trying to do, huh? You got something against me, you come to me. You don't put my woman in the middle, you sick fucker!”

“Did she tell you? Did she tell you about us? How it used to be? That's okay; she'll be back,” I said.

“So that's what this is about? You crazy motherfucker. You got this woman scared to death of you, but I'm not scared. You are going to get exactly what you deserve, just wait.”

“Listen, man. I need to talk to Renée. She needs to know that I still love her and I want to be with her. She needs to know that I'm a changed man.”

“Are you crazy? She doesn't want you anymore. Whatever you had with her is over, okay?”

“Did you see the pictures?” I asked.

“Yeah, I saw the pictures. What did you do, threaten to kill her or threaten to kill me? She told me it wasn't what it appeared. I'll bet you threatened to kill me, huh? That's okay, because your ass is going down,” Chris said.

“Tell Renée I love her,” I said; then the line went dead.

Chris was screaming like a madman, and I was still at a loss for words. The only thing I told Chris was that the pictures were not what they seemed. I didn't know what else to say. Now he had my cell phone, yelling at Tank, and I had no idea which route to take. Chris shut my cell phone so hard that the antenna broke.

“He told me everything,” Chris said, breathing heavily. “Yeah, that's a sick bastard. He confirmed everything.”

“Chris, what did he say?” I asked, anxious.

“It's okay; I got his number. He confessed—not in so many words—but he confessed that he was in love with you, but you weren't with him anymore. Why didn't you tell me?”

Still a bit confused, I just played along. “I don't know. I … I couldn't. What exactly did Tank say?”

“He said something about still loving you and how he's a changed man. Hmph, this whole situation is foul. What I can't understand is why you never mentioned him to me. You've heard me talk about him before, but you didn't say a thing. As a matter of fact, I was talking about him this evening before you ran back into your apartment. What did you do, go and call him? This shit is not making sense to me.”

“Look, that situation with Tank, it was a long time ago. He's just upset because I've moved on with my life.” I leaned over and kissed Chris on the lips long and hard. “I'm with you, right? We're together, you and me. Those pictures mean nothing. They are old, before us.” By now I had leaned his seat back as far as it could go. I sat on his lap, straddling him.

“But in one of them, you're wearing the set I bought you,” he said.

“Shhhh,” I whispered, putting my finger over his mouth. I began to chew on his ear, making him breathe hard as I ground back and forth on him, making him get bigger and bigger.

“All I want is you and only you,” I said. I managed to unbuckle his pants, and before my hand reached his manhood, he was already moaning.

“Tank could never do for me what you can. You are my man, not Tank. Don't talk about the pictures. Don't even think about the pictures. This is obviously an attack on me. You let me deal with him my way, okay?” I began rubbing on his chest. I put my hand inside his sweater and played with his nipples. He seemed to get a thrill out of this.

“But … but … Renée, you were wearing the set … I … I …,” he stammered.

His cell phone rang, but I pushed it to the floor on the passenger side. I needed to get Chris back in sync with me and off of Tank.

“Don't talk about it. Just lean back and do me right here, right now. I need you in me. I love you,” I moaned.

By this time, Chris was so aroused that I thought he was going to explode inside his pants. I took charge by pulling up my skirt, turning full circle. Then I lay on top of Chris so that he was face-to-face with my thong. I was face-to-face with his erection. I unzipped his pants and found his manhood with my tongue as he went to town licking and sucking my valley. For whatever reason, doing it in the car was something that set Chris off, so I planted my size-eight-and-a-half Ann Taylor boots on the backseat while I rotated my valley and sucked Chris, all in unison. I tried to keep my eyes out for passersby to make sure no one knew what we were doing.

“I'm coming. I'm coming. Shit, Renée, I'm coming,” he moaned. His cell phone rang again, but this time we both ignored it.

“You going inside, or you want to stay outside and play?” I asked.

“Don't stop, don't stop,” he said.

Then, without full warning, he just shrieked, pushing my head back, and exploded all over his pants. I moved, almost breaking the heel of my boot on the console, when his cell phone rang again. I got in his lap, facing him, and pushed my tongue into his mouth.

After kissing him, I said, “All this is yours, okay? Don't worry about that thug Tank. I can handle him just fine. Just let me take care of it, okay?”