The Conglomerate: A Luxorious Tale (18 page)

              Evan fixed everyone a drink before taking a seat. Joey guzzled hers down right away, and then tearfully told her friends what transpired in her office an hour earlier.

             
“That’s some ole’ bullshit,” Cee announced when Joey finished speaking. “Where is Zay? Did you call him?”

             
“No, this isn’t something that I can tell him over the phone. You know Zay he will flip out, find Dawhar, and kill him.”

             
“And Dawhar deserves it,” Evan added.

             
“Evan, no one can get away with killing someone that high profiled. Either way he’s going to spaz as soon as he sees my face. At least if we’re face to face I can calm him down and get him to be rational. I feel like a fool,” Joey sobbed.

             
“Don't,” Cee stopped her. “You better not dare blame yourself for what that sick perv did to you. If Zay don't get him, I will.”

             
“Whoa,” Joey dabbed the tears from her eyes with a piece of tissue. “I know that you got a lot of pinned up aggression because of what you’re going through, but I did get him pretty good myself. I don't want anyone, especially you, getting in trouble. Your kids have already lost one parent.”

             
“I know and speaking of Petey, right before Bev called me one of the detectives on his case called me. They caught the arsonist.”

       
“They did!” Evan and Joey exclaimed in unison.

             
“That’s great,” Evan chimed breathing a sigh of relief.

             
“Not exactly,” Cee responded. “He’s not the person that shot Petey.”

             
“Are they sure?” Joey questioned.

             
“Yes they are very sure; he was locked up in Durham that night.”

             
Shaking her head Joey peered in Evan’s direction. Refusing to meet Joey’s blaming eyes Evan focused on Cee asking, “Do they have any other suspects?”

             
“Nope, not at all, but they assured me that they will keep looking.”

             
The friends sat for two hours drinking and talking. In the middle of their girlfriend reunion, Cee received a call from her daughter, Talia. The news on the other end was disturbing. After conversing briefly Cee hung up the phone and told Joey. “Come on we need to get you out of here. Shit is about to hit the fan.”

             
“Who was that?”

             
“It was Talia, and she said TMP and Wahoo Sports are reporting that Dawhar was just released from the hospital. They’re saying that he was there because he was beaten by Luxe bouncers after refusing your advances.”

             
Deeply appalled Joey scoffed. “The fucking nerve!” The humiliation took a back seat to the rage that was gripping her. “That’s okay, because I’ll give the gossip sites something to blog about. I do have to get out of here and get to Zay before the news does.”

             
The trio traveled down the buildings service elevator in order to avoid party goers. As they neared Joey’s parking space, headlights shined brightly at them as speeding vehicle veered towards them slamming to a stop less than a foot from their bodies. The driver’s side front and rear doors flew open, out jumped Dawhar’s trophy wife, Leska, along with the wife of another Tiger player.

             
Charging at Joey Leska screamed, “You fucking slut whore what kinda of shit are you on? My husband doesn’t want your raggedy Ann looking ass so you get your rental cops to jump him!”

             
“Back your prissy mix breed ass the fuck up out my face before I stomp a hole in it. Your creep of a husband tried to rape me and he got what his hand called for by me and not my security team.”

             
“He tried to rape you?” Leska mocked with a cackle. “Dawhar doesn’t have to rape you. He has me and he could have any woman that he wants.”

             
“That’s the problem he ran into one that he couldn’t have.”

              Emerging from the car, Dawhar shouted, “Ain’t nobody try to rape you hoe. You was throwing that pussy at me.”

             
Joey was flabbergasted by Dawhar. Prior to opening the Luxe she’d promoted events and parties for him over the last four years. In doing business she’d never picked up on his sociopathic traits.

             
“You have to be the foulest nigga walking,” Joey seethed at Dawhar then said to Leska, “he’s lying about this rape, the same way he lies about those two little boys that he has by that young girl on the Southside.”

             
Rumors of Dawhar’s illegitimate kids were an extreme sore spot for Leska, for the obvious reasons but even more because she was barren. The mere mention of those kids made her manic. Leska drew back and swung at Joey. Cee caught Leska’s arm mid-air, bent it behind her back, and whaled on her.

             
“Oh hell no,” Leska’s friend stepped up to intervene.

             
Joey scooped her up and slammed her down. Grabbing her back she rolled around crying, and groaning. Joey shook her head,
this silly bitch running up and don't even want it.

             
Dawhar marched over to rescue his wife. He froze when Evan pulled her gun and aimed it at him. “Don't even try it. I already want to put something in you for that shit you tried to pull on Joey.”

              Yes, he was bigger and stronger than all of them put together but he wasn’t made of teflon. “Just get your girl off of my wife that’s all I want. She doesn’t deserve that. She doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

             
“Oh well she shouldn’t have brought her punk ass up here,” Evan said coolly keeping the gun aimed at him.

             
The thrashing that Cee was doling out was cringe worthy. Growing up Joey, Cee, and Evan were known for their fist game. Among them, Cee was known to be the better fighter. Evan and Joey had seen Cee deliver some beat downs over the years but none this harsh. Leska’s efforts to fight back were futile. Cee’s punches were coming at Leska at what felt like one hundred miles per hour. Joey and Evan attributed Cee’s ruthlessness to pinned up frustrations stemming from Petey’s death. Little did they know the extra strength was from the powder she snorted during a trip to the restroom.

             
“Cee that’s enough,” Joey wrapped her arms around Cee’s midsection and tried to tug her away. “Chill Cee,” using all her strength Joey yanked hard and pulled Cee off.

             
Dawhar moved in fast to check on his wife as flashing blue lights lit the darkness. Sirens rang out as a black unmarked car followed by four squad cars converged on the parking lot and pulled right up on them. One of the detectives, a short black man sporting a pot belly in a cheap suit, went over to Dawhar.

             
“What are you doing here? I told you to go straight home and we would handle this,” he fussed. “What happened to your wife?” He pointed at Leska’s freshly battered face.

             
“That dumb ass black bitch,” Dawhar shouted nodding at Cee, “she beat her up.”

             
“Dumb bitch?” Cee frowned. “You fucking faggot ass rapist.”

             
“Do you wanna press charges?” the detective asked Dawhar and Leska.

             
“They can’t press shit,” Cee rolled her neck. “This is our property. I was defending myself and my business partners.”

             
“Hey,” a thin nosed white detective yelled. “Everybody be quiet.” He looked over at his partner, “Sanders we can handle that later.” The white detective was becoming annoyed by his partners’ blatant ass kissing of the NFL star. Through his wire frame glasses he scanned the faces before him. Pausing on Joey’s face, he said “Joell Tappens.”

             
A raised brow and her anti-authority attitude in effect, Joey responded, “Yes?”

             
“I’m Det. Blankenship and this is my partner, Det. Sanders. We’re going to need you and security team to come downtown.”

             
“In regards to what?”

              “The attack on Dawhar Bradley.”

             
“So he really went to five-o with that whack ass lie?” Joey chuckled softly in disbelief. “What if I told you that I had proof that he’s lying.”

             
Blankenship’s ears perked up, he’d found Dawhar’s version account of the events hard to believe. He knew that the only reason his colleagues were so quick to gobble up Dawhar’s story was because of his celebrity status. A woman having a man beaten because he rebuffed her advances was too farfetched for the seasoned detective. Blankenship saw it exactly for what it was— a man trying to save face with his wife. Being that it was his job he had to investigate the allegations. Placing a hand on  Joey’s upper arm, Blankenship eased her off to the side out of his partner and Dawhar’s earshot. “What kind of proof do you have?”

             
Joey hated that she was even talking to the police. She didn’t like the police and although she was the victim, Joey felt like she was snitching. Looking at Dawhar’s smug face she realized that the only way she could defend herself against his insulting lies was to share her proof with the law.