Sex in the Hood Saga (40 page)

The Queen had never met the Moreno Triplets, but she strutted toward them like she owned the whole damn universe. Because after she got through with them, she would. At least the universe of organized sex for sale anywhere near D-town and a dozen big cities across America.

And that little bike chase this afternoon had shifted her all the way into bitch overdrive. If ever she wanted to use her mixed-race sex powers, she was about to whip some
femme fatale
on these muthafuckas.

Knight's contacts had done extensive research on just what the Morenos controlled and wanted to acquire. They had massage parlors, escort services, and strip clubs. Now they were trying to muscle in on the traditional pussy party circuit. The kind that entertained men. But it turned out, Babylon had them beat in a big way, thanks to The Queen's aggressive thrust into the female market. Only problem was, Moreno wanted what Babylon had. And this was the day to fuck them out of business entirely.

“Now it's time for us to execute Prince's Rule number four.
Crush your enemies entirely,”
Knight had said as they were chauffeured here by Ping and Pong in Hummer One. “But at the same time, they'll never know they're being smashed. The trick is to make them feel like they're being praised as the kings.”

The Queen kept that in mind as she led Knight, Ping, and Pong into the private room of a five star restaurant on the seventy-second floor of the Renaissance Center. The all glass walls offered a breathtaking view of downtown Detroit, Windsor, and far beyond.

The Queen loved the way her spiky, high gold heels cut into the carpet with every step.

A hostess led them to the sleek meeting room with walls made of beige suede and glass blocks. Inside, at a large, square glass table sat the notorious Moreno Triplets, along with a heavyset, light-skinned guy with thick facial features and a bald head. Beside him, a freakishly skinny blond chick in a tight white pantsuit perched on one of the brown suede chairs. Behind them stood one bodyguard; he was a handsome, African giant wearing a brown suit. A glass wall that shielded them from the sophisticated crowd in the bustling restaurant set a chic backdrop for this gang of six.

Now, The Queen loved how all of their eyes became enchanted and danced all over her as she entered. A rhyme popped into her head; she'd have to write it down later and put it into a song she'd call “A Bad Bitch.”

A painfully horny expression radiated from their eyes as they checked her out from head to toe.

The Queen held back a smile as these new onlookers downright ogled the explosion of titties in the scandalously low-cut lapels that pressed two humps of hot bronze decadence up and into their faces. She had spread some iridescent lotion over her titties to make them shimmer as they bounced with her strut walk. All of them looked at her like she was the lunch that would be served on the table full of cream colored china, silverware, and crystal glasses.

Yet their lust mixed with evil was so strong in the air, she could taste it. In fact, a chill hung inside this small room, even though the rest of the restaurant felt warm and cozy as they'd entered from the elevator. While she had savored the scents of garlic, steak, and seafood cooking as they approached, this room had the choking odor of cigar smoke and too much expensive cologne.

“Queen,” the men said in unison, rising to bow slightly. Each wore a white suit, shirt, and silk tie. Their skin was beige, which could have made them Bolivian, Italian, Arabic, Yugoslavian, or even Spanish.

Knight had said they were from a small island in the Mediterranean Sea, but they had lived in Colombia and South Africa before joining an elderly uncle here in Detroit to stake their claim on his underworld empire before he died.

The Queen forced herself not to shiver as she checked out the diabolical vibe in their identical hazel eyes set in fleshy, clean-shaven faces with hook noses and thick black brows that were professionally sculpted. Their lips were unnaturally red, and their skin looked so pampered, it shone as if it were made of wax.

There was something familiar about them. Had she seen them before, or had Duke and Knight mentioned them so many times that she felt she already knew them? Or had she seen their faces and heard their names even before she'd come to Babylon? Had Moreno been among the names on those files that Daddy had asked her to feed into the shredder on that frantic Wednesday night before he blew his brains out?

The Queen's mind spun, but her face was as cool and seductive as a Cleopatra mask. She stared hard into the redhead's eyes as she purred, “You're as gorgeous as legend has it.”

He stood and extended his hand. His manicured, polished fingernails shined under the light of the modern chandelier. And his white jacket fell open to reveal a huge bulge in his pants. The white fabric was thin enough to reveal that he wore no boxers or briefs; the rim of the head of his big dick pressed like a face against glass inside the pleated polyester of his pants beside his front zipper.

“Enchante,”
he said, his eyes blazing with lust. “I meet beautiful women of every race around the world, but you are by far the most exquisite specimen of the black female I have ever had the delight of meeting.”

I ain't a muthafuckin' specimen in a science lab, but I'm glad you're taking the bait.
The Queen's lips felt hot as she smiled and made her eyes glow with seduction. She did a slow body scan over him, holding her gaze at his bulge, before she looked back into his eyes.

This dude was gorgeous. He reminded her—wait, maybe he
was
the man she had always seen at those super rich, prestigious parties at her ex-boyfriend Brian's mansion and at gatherings hosted by the parents of her ex-best friend, Tiffany. Daddy had even greeted that man, who always had dark, slicked back hair. And she had definitely seen the Asian chick on his arm before. The Queen remembered staring at that woman, wondering what her life was like as the sex kitten arm ornament for a gangster who was hooked into that very legitimate circle of CEOs, lawyers, doctors, and moguls.

Now I'm just like her. Only I got more power. That world,
The Queen remembered, would accept a quiet, passive Asian ornament. But they rejected the bone colored China that was actually black on the inside.

Right now, somehow, the Morenos were guilty of racism by association. Looking at them right now, and feeling their very bad vibe, roused up all the horrible feelings that The Queen had kept buried for more than a year.

Suddenly, a red mist of rage in The Queen's mind cast a sinister haze over this creepy cast of characters. All the anger, disappointment, and sadness that she had felt when Brian, and Tiffany and their parents kicked her out of their lives came surging up in a tongue load of cuss words that she now knew how to launch with precision and power.

Behind her, Knight must have sensed her angst. Because she heard him speak in her mind,
Keep complete and constant control of your emotions.
“Thank you,” The Queen said to the auburn haired Moreno.

“I'm Red,” he said, his long, hot fingers still gripping hers. “These are my brothers, Marco and Liam. We've been greatly anticipating this encounter with the singular woman who could meet Knight's superhuman standards of excellence.” Red nodded at Knight, who was still behind her. The man gripped The Queen's hand harder and bowed toward her.

The Queen allowed him to continue holding her hand as she stared into his eyes. They were like a marquis flashing DEVIL. The attractive shade of hazel coloring his irises did nothing to hide the violence and betrayal and greed that roiled in his soul. In fact, an aura of malice radiated around the three brothers so intensely. The Queen could almost see pale green vapors rising up around them, like she'd seen in a picture book around an evil dragon that Mommy would read to her as a little girl.

In that story, the beautiful princess always defeated the dragon with her charms, so she could free the handsome prince inside the dragon's scary cave. In the end, the prince and princess tamed the dragon as their pet; he even sang sweet songs instead of breathing fire.

That was their plan with Moreno. But he didn't breathe fire. No, he spoke with an accent that to anybody else, would be a dramatic smoke and mirrors type distraction to trick them into thinking he was an international aristocrat.

It didn't work on The Queen, though. Working with Daddy at his business, she had met authentic rich people and royalty who spoke with beautiful accents from all over the world.

She could see right through this fake, British wannabe. She bit her lip to stop a sudden burst of laughter. In her eyes, despite his expensive suit and impeccable grooming, he was a Eurotrash perpetrator who deserved nothing more than to get double crossed so Babylon could keep all that it had and get whatever else it wanted.

“These are my partners in charge of operations here in southeast Michigan,” Moreno said. He nodded toward the heavyset brunette guy and the skinny blond chick. “We met on holiday in Monaco, when they were celebrating their honeymoon at my favorite casino. They both possess brilliant business minds, thanks to their pedigreed family backgrounds.”

The Queen froze.

The guy and the chick stared back with equal intrigue. Brian and Tiffany. Those snobby, racist punks were working for a gangster now? Was this man the same dude she'd seen at the fancy parties with her friends from her white life? And was there a connection to Daddy's death?

The Queen's insides reeled with shock. If any of them identified her, they would be able to trump her power play by threatening to tell the feds exactly where she was. Plus that would crush Knight's leverage because they would hold all the juice in the deal.

The Queen smiled.

She looked nothing like she did a year ago. She now sported a deep, honey brown complexion, fifteen extra pounds of thickness and she spoke completely different than how she used to. Now, she was tough, assertive, nasty, and possessed a sexual aura that could dominate anyone; man or woman.

“How y'all doin'?” She nodded toward them. Her former boyfriend and best friend had never seen Victoria in this light before. Even CoCo was unrecognizable from her days working with her Daddy when she went by the name Marlene.

Brian and Tiffany were staring. If they had recognized her, it didn't seem like they were planning on saying anything.

Knight stepped forward to shake Red's hand. He pulled out a chair for The Queen so that she could sit close to Red.

“We've got a proposal that creates a triple win for all of us,” Knight said as he sat beside The Queen. “We keep an open mind and work together. Then the billions are ours for the taking.” He looked over at The Queen before continuing, “We propose that immediately following The Games, we create a collaboration.”

Red's gaze lowered for a second. He nodded then looked back into her eyes. “Tell me more.”

“It's essentially a situation where you keep yours, we keep ours, but together we create something much more powerful.”

Brian and Tiffany were staring very hard at The Queen.
They can't possibly know who I am
.

She took a good look at Brian and noticed how terrible he looked. All the weight Tiffany had lost, Brian had found, times ten. It distorted his face, thickening his nose, his lips, and the skin around his blue eyes, which still glinted with the same malice.

“Why should we trust you?” Brian asked, twirling his gold ring imprinted with the Martin's family coat of arms. His voice raked over the scars he had left on her soul.

She imagined herself getting up from the table, walking around the Moreno Triplets, and raising her stiletto heel with the lightning speed and lethal force that Lee Lee had taught her. Her heel would bash straight into his nose and he'd shut the fuck up.

“Trust,” The Queen said playfully. “What do you feel in your gut right now?”

Brian let out a sexy laugh. “I don't want to get crass while we're doing business. Because what I feel in my gut has nothing to do with trust.”

“I believe it does,” she says. “You feel sex.” The word sex came out of her mouth in such a seductive and powerful way that everyone at the table visibly winced.

“And sex is the name of this game,” The Queen said. “Trust
that.”

Knight watched her speak. His poker face hid his expression from the others, but The Queen saw a sparkle of pride that she was doing her thing.
Teamwork makes the dream work baby.

As her seductive words hung in the silent, still air, Brian grinned. Tiffany's nipples poked against the chest of her tight suit jacket.

“Trust is not a question,” Red said to Brian. “If it were, we would not be sitting here right now. The question is”—he turned to The Queen—“how will this collaboration work?”