Flippin' the Hustle (10 page)

I
t didn't take much persuasion from Derrick to convince RJ that a short vacation to Jamaica wasn't such a bad idea. The problem for Derrick was the agency's sudden lack of support for the investigation.

Once Derrick brought the idea to director Gold, he was instantly met with a wall of hostility. “Jamaica!” Gold bellowed. “Are you crazy! I really can't trust you out of my sights here . . . Jamaica!” he said in a sarcastic manner.

Derrick used every ounce of willpower he had not to fire a crisp right hand into his boss's mouth. Instead, he calmly stood and exited the office.

His walk out of Director Gold's office was symbolic of his walking out of his life as an agent. He was on the verge of making such a decision final. Detective Gold's claim not to trust Derrick out of his sight was confirmation of what Derrick had dismissed as paranoia. Derrick's slow pace in producing the type of information on cases as he usually did at such a rapid pace was the link to Director Gold's suspicion. At least that's what Derrick gathered.

*****

It didn't take long for him and RJ to acquire false visas and numerous other pieces of identification from a business in Philadelphia. They headed to the airport.

Derrick peered out of the windows at the clouds during the flight. His mind was just as cloudy.

“What's on your mind, son?” RJ asked. “I see you in deep thought.”

Derrick shook his head. “Life.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You ever wonder how you end up here?”

RJ smiled. “Grinding, son. Hard motherfucking work on the streets of BK.”

“You got a point. But I mean, like, what you wanted to be when you was a kid?”

“A doctor.”

“Word?”

“Yeah,” RJ said. “Why you say it like that?”

“Just can't picture you with a stethoscope and white uniform.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“That brings me back to my first question. How did you end up here?”

RJ looked Derrick in the eyes in silence, drifted his stare down, and sighed. “Naria ever tell you about Dezo?”

“Nah,” Derrick responded.

“He was our older brother. Got murdered in Crown Heights when he was coming out of his spot.”

“Word?”

RJ nodded. “I dropped out of school and been on the street ever since.”

Derrick watched RJ's eyes drift off into space. But a million things were going through Derrick's mind at that point. He wanted to tell RJ how closely paralleled their lives were having both lost their older brothers to the game.

RJ turned and looked into Derrick's eyes. “You're turning out to be the closest thing I have to a brother since Dezo died.”

Derrick was happy that RJ turned his head as quickly as he stared at him, because Derrick didn't know how to respond. The more Derrick thought, RJ had been the closest thing to a brother he had also had since his brother Ray died. He looked back out the plane's window into the clouds. Derrick had never even taken a trip with his brother out of the country. In a twist of irony, RJ had filled in where Ray left off, providing not only someone who Derrick hung out with daily, but the person whose money had been helping Derrick's mother, just as Ray had provided for their mother's needs before he was murdered. Derrick peeped at RJ, knowing that nobody in the agency could come close to fulfilling the role the notorious crook played in his life.

Minutes later, Derrick and RJ were snatched from their thoughts. “Please, return your seats to their upright positions and fasten your seat belts. Thank you for flying US Air,” a flight attendant said over the PA system.

The flight from LaGuardia New York International to Miami International took less than four hours. Derrick looked over to the women in the seats across from them. Naria slept angelically beside Trina. He thought of their innocence and how they were attached to the streets by RJ and his lifestyle. He thought of Trina being shot because of RJ's lifestyle. He wanted more for them, just as he wanted more for himself and RJ. He contemplated what life would be like with both couples if RJ severed their ties to the streets and he severed his with the agency.

The federal agency that had been so loyal to him throughout his tenure had abandoned him. So many times he laid his life on the line, and they weren't willing to sacrifice a meager falsified visa. An internal war was taking place, and Derrick's lower self was winning the battle.

“Welcome to Miami!” a female's voice boomed over the PA system, snapping Derrick out of his thoughts.

RJ was already standing, removing Trina's Louis Vuitton carryon bags from the overhead compartment.

Ever since Trina's shooting, she had a dispirited demeanor. However, now that they were en route to their vacation destination, she was gleaming.

Derrick began gathering Naria and his bags. She looked up to him with an admiring expression. “You need some help?”

“Nah. I think I've got it,” he smoothly replied, effortlessly snatching the luggage down.

The foursome gradually made their way through the crowded airport to the baggage claim, and then out onto the loading area. There, in the long line of taxis, limousines, and passenger vehicles, were two matching platinum Rolls Royce Phantoms.

It wasn't until Derrick noticed the same man from the restaurant, standing along with another strangely outfitted dreadlocked man, that he realized the elaborate spectacle was for them. He nudged RJ and then motioned in the direction of the men.

The rear suicide door opened up and Tony slid out from the car. “Mi youth, Robert!” he yelled, garnering their attention and waving frantically for them to join him. “Bredron, mi ah send mi hospitality, amah you—A Bomba look de odder way!” Tony joked.

This instantly brought a round of laughter from the foursome, especially Trina and Naria. They'd always found such a thick accent amusing.

Once everyone was introduced. Ox, the tall Jamaican whom Derrick first saw in New York, and Oateek, the peculiar looking one of the two, retrieved their luggage and tossed them into the trunks of the luxurious automobiles.

Derrick could not help staring at Oateek and the long single dreadlock that hung from his chin, matching the silvery dreadlocks hanging from his head. The man looked to be the epitome of a seasoned Rastafarian militant. Derrick would soon learn that the man's menacing appearance couldn't be further from his lively demeanor.

“Come,” Tony announced, motioning them into the Phantoms.

Derrick noticed the car Trina and Naria were ushered into already contained an exotic looking female. Once Ox closed the door behind the women, Tony motioned him and RJ to the rear of the other Phantom, where Oateek held the rear door open.

Once Oateek was seated in the cockpit of the car, the vibrating bass of Sean Paul and Sasha's “Still in Love” blasted throughout the car.

With a smile on his face, Derrick leaned back and allowed the smooth crooning to put his mind at ease.

On the ride from the airport, Tony explained that the flight to Jamaica wouldn't be departing until the following day.

Peering out of the window as they drove across a short bridge into Miami Beach, Derrick made the mental note to revisit the beautiful city in a more up front and personal way.

“Tonight, I'ma show yah, ‘ow mi flex in ah Miami,” Tony announced just as the twin Phantoms pulled up to the Marriott, within a rocks throw of the beautiful sands of Miami Beach.

After assisting the two couples with getting checked into the hotel, Tony slid into the backseat beside the stunning Asian beauty. “Ten o'clock, be prepared for some wickedness.”

* * * * *

Naria burst into the hotel suite like an excited little girl. “Trez, Trez!” she yelled, lugging shopping bags into the bedroom.

Hearing his deceased brother's name called in such a distressing tone, caused Derrick to instantly bolt upright from his slumber. “Damn! What is it? Somebody chasing you or something?” he asked, full of agitation.

Naria placed her hands on her hips and replied, “Please. I may be a college graduate, but I was raised in Brooklyn.” She tossed the bags onto the small couch. “Trina and I found the hottest boutiques out here.” She pawed through the bags, which bore the logos of numerous top designers. She held up a cream-colored linen shirt. “I got this for you,” she announced proudly.

Eyeing the piece of clothing, Derrick immediately noticed the gold buttons shaped like tiny lion heads that lined the authentic piece from Giovanni Versace's line. “How much did you pay for this, Naria?” he asked in a serious tone.

“Why?” she shot back. “I brought it for you to wear tonight. Besides, Trina bought Robert something just as expensive, so . . .”

“Yeah! But I'm pretty sure Trina spent Robert's money too. I'm guessing you spent your money. Right!”

Eyeing Derrick, she slowly eased closer to him and placed her head onto his chest. Lightly running her nails up his spine, she purred, “Are we having our first argument?”

The jolts of pleasure that her hands were creating up and down his back momentarily paralyzed Derrick. He held Naria delicately in his arms.

His silence prompted her to repeat, “Are we?”

Derrick bent his knees until he stared directly into Naria's eyes. Meeting her lust-filled gaze with his own, he quickly covered her sweet tasting mouth with his own.

*****

Derrick and RJ were dressed to perfection along with their ladies as they headed out to party. Once they pulled up to Club Amnesia in South Miami Beach, they all looked on in sheer astonishment. Eyeing the elaborate automobiles that littered the parking lot, Derrick knew they were in for an unforgettable experience. Ferraris and Lamborghinis were parked in every direction. Men and women entered the club as if they had just exited the warm waters of the Atlantic, surfboards in tow.

Oateek smoothly maneuvered the Phantom beside its twin near the entrance of the club. As he stepped from the car, Derrick noticed him retrieve his phone from his waist. In a matter of seconds, Ox exited the club.

Speaking briefly to Oateek in an unrecognizable dialect, both men rounded the car on either side, and opened the doors as if they were entertaining royalty. “Bredron, Tony ah wait fah ya in de VIP section. Come,” Ox announced, leading the way into the packed club.

Once Derrick entered the club, he looked on in disbelief. Staring straight up, he could clearly see the bright stars in the night sky. There was no roof at all.

As Pharrell and Gwen Steffani's hit, “You Want It Like That” blasted through the club's speakers, Derrick witnessed half-naked women jerking their bodies under a waterfall. The interior of the nightclub was designed in the likeness of an oasis. The bars, made of stone, were each equipped with a supermodel for a bartender. It was a surreal experience for Derrick, because he rarely got out since he was constantly working. The entire outing was a needed relief, not only from the agency, but from the drama that came on the streets of Brooklyn. It was a glimpse into the prospect of him and RJ starting a new life with their women in a new atmosphere.

Ox led them up a flight of stairs to a seated area. Tony lounged comfortably with his arm draped over the shoulder of a girl who was just as striking as the Asian bombshell they had seen earlier.

“Ave ah seat an' get relax,” Tony directed. “Bah-tender!” he yelled.

With his feet perched up on the table, Derrick couldn't help but notice the sparkling gold Nike sneakers Tony wore, reminiscent of the exact shoes that gold medalist Michael Johnson wore in the 1996 Olympics.

As the bartender approached, carrying a tray of alcoholic beverages, Derrick instantly understood that the short Jamaican was small in size, and a giant in status.

“Ah'll night, get dem whatever dem want,” he instructed the bartender, but then focused his attention back onto the exotic specimen within his grasp.

Once each of them grabbed a drink of their liking, there was only a bottle of Evian water, which was quickly snatched up by the short Jamaican. Derrick came to another conclusion—not only was Tony a man of great monetary stature, he was also a man of great reserve.

Derrick and RJ slid off to the side and took in the atmosphere. “This is life,” Derrick declared.

“Big difference from Brooklyn,” RJ said.

“Tell me about it.”

“Always good to get a breather every now and then,” RJ said.

“I'm thinking about a permanent break.”

“Just up and leave the game?”

Derrick nodded.

“You the first person I met that's tired of getting money.”

“Tired of the drama.”

RJ shrugged. “It's a part of the game. Wherever you go, whatever you do, there is gonna be something negative involved.”

Derrick looked over at their ladies smiling and drinking. “See how much fun they having?”

“Yeah.” RJ smiled.

“This is how it's supposed to be every night.”

“In a perfect world.”

“We got enough money to make it perfect.”

RJ put his hand on Derrick's shoulder. “We will. Eventually.”

“Damn,” Derrick blurted, looking up. Their night at Club Amnesia was closing with one thing partygoers always prayed would never happen: rain. However, to Derrick's surprise, the warm sprinkles seemed to beckon more people to the dance floor.

Eyeing the spectacle from where they were sheltered from the rain by a short tier, Naria looked to Derrick with a dazed look. “I've always wanted to dance in the rain.”

Derrick instinctively shot her an incredulous look that said, “Are you out of your mind?”

With her lips poked in a sexy pout, she whined, “Please.”

Before Derrick could even mount a defense, Tony spoke up. “Bredron, gwon bust a move wit' dem gal.” Standing, he added, “Every time de rain fall, I give me gal ah dance.” Leading his companion, who was at least seven inches taller, down the stairs, Tony stepped out onto the crowded dance floor.