The Glamorous Life (15 page)

T
he next day Lynx and Cook’em-up were up bright and early, bagging up the work from the new shipment Lynx had just gotten in.

Although Cook’em-up had surrounded himself with lots of cats who stacked major paper, Cook’em-up never had been the type to get out and make it happen for himself. Truth be told, the only two things Cook’em-up had ever been known for was being a gunslinger and murdering someone at the drop of a dime, and his skill for cooking crack cocaine like a world-class chef preparing a soufflé in a five-star restaurant.

When Lynx was only thirteen, Cook’em-up had recognized his drive. He’d taken Lynx under his wing and introduced him to the life from all angles. With Cook’em-up’s guidance, along with everything else Lynx soaked up, Lynx turned out to be one of the most thorough and wise young dudes to hit the streets of Richmond, V-A.

That morning Cook’em-up was trying to make light conversation with Lynx, but Lynx was distant.

“Damn, nigga, where yo mind at?”

Lynx just shook his head. “Man, I don’t even wanna say,” he said, as he added another stone of cocaine to what was already on the scale, trying to make the reading show an even four and a half ounces.

“What you thinking ’bout? That asshole full of money you ’bout to make off all that raw coke I just cooked up?”

“Nah, man, not even.” He used a playing card, the queen of hearts, to take some of the powder coke off the scale.

“What’s on yo mind then?”

“That honey from last night.”

“You mean Money from last night?” Cook’em-up asked, trying to crack a joke.

“Nah, I ain’t thinking ’bout no dude.”

“I know, damn, I meant honey that’s all about getting da money. The chick that throw the parties?”

“Yeah, man I’m straight into her. I am feeling her fo
real.
”

“Damn, it’s like that?” Cook’em-up asked as he opened up another box of baking soda to continue to cook the coke.

Lynx nodded. “But she won’t give a nigga the time of day. She made all my ‘Excuse me, miss’ lines look like two-cent checks. I was waiting for Sandman to come and get me.”

“Look at you, man, you all to pieces. She got you all open up like that and you ain’t even had the pussy yet. She something tough, huh?”

“Exactly.”

“Look, man, I told you that ho ain’t to be trusted. She ain’t from the streets and don’t know nothing ’bout the streets, and I don’t trust the bitch no further than I can see her.”

“Man, well, you ain’t the one who got to deal with her, are
you?” Lynx shot back as he realized that something had happened to his plastic glove. “Shit I got a fucking hole in my glove. Hand me another one.”

“A’ight man, I’m gonna back up, because you sprung, that’s all. We’ve been through a lot together, and we’ll get through this, too,” Cook’em-up said and handed him another glove out of the box.

Lynx didn’t say a word.

“Man, I hope I am wrong ’bout her. I hope she top-flight like you think. Because man, she really got you looking like Elmer Fudd, and that cartoon shit ain’t cute. I know you ain’t been no Casanova but, ummm, I know her kind. You gotta show her some real Romeo-type shit to finesse her.”

“Man, I sell drugs not dreams. I gotta be real with her.”

“Call the bitch then and see what she talking ’bout.”

“I will, and watch yo mouth.”

Once they were finished bagging up, Lynx decided to call Bambi. Shoot, he had wanted to call her last night as soon as he got her number, but he didn’t want to seem like he was pressed. There was an unspoken notion to wait, not to call the same day one gets the number. With any other chick, he wouldn’t care what they thought because he knew for a fact, right off the bat, they wanted him and it was a privilege to even receive a phone call from him. Bambi was different. He had to play his hand to the hilt with her. He looked in his pocket to get the number. It wasn’t there. He checked his other pockets as well, but somehow he had lost it. He was upset, but what could he do? He didn’t have the number and had no way to get in touch with her. He thought about calling her business to try to plan a party, but he didn’t want to seem too pressed. So he sucked it up and remembered that they basically traveled in the same circles, and he knew he would see her again somehow.

CHAPTER 15

Lost da Digits

F
or a few days, whenever Bambi’s cell phone rang, she hoped it was Lynx, but it never was, so she figured he was just another liar and player. Soon, she had other things to think about, like how to throw the biggest bash of the year—Tall Daddy’s party.

Tall Daddy may have been confined to a wheelchair, but he was a very powerful man. Tall Daddy was involved with anything crooked in Richmond that made money: whores, guns, drugs, real estate, extortion, and loan sharking. Once a year Tall Daddy had a celebration—and when he had a party, he had a party. He cut no corners and took no shortcuts. Heavy hitters from all over—New York, Chicago, Detroit, Miami, LA, and all points in-between—traveled near and far to party with Tall Daddy. Even the ones who played the background and had no use to be seen on the scene would come out and bless him with their appearance. It was all about showing respect and supporting Tall Daddy. The gold diggers and sac chasers did whatever they had to do to get on the guest list
and make this set. As soon as a confirmed date got out of Tall Daddy’s gala, females started saving to ensure they had the money for extravagant outfits that would be sure to turn heads, because they knew that it was going to be nothing but heavy hitters and major players who would be in attendance. They were sure with the right outfit, this could be the night they could come face-to-face with their knight in green shining armor who would ride up and take them from poverty to paradise.

Every year Tall Daddy outdid himself, and by no means was he going to let Disco’s little club parties outshine his. He hired Bambi to pull off this event and told her that she was the only person he knew of who could give the folks something to talk about.

Bambi had attended one of Tall Daddy’s parties a couple years back with Reggie, and she knew what type of crowd would come out. She was excited that he’d chosen her company to put the affair together. She knew that this party could take her company to the next level. She charged him a pretty penny and intended to make sure it was worth every dime he paid and then some, but Tall Daddy had no problem peeling off the digits for her—especially after he met with her and saw what she intended to do with the Arthur Ashe Center, which he had rented for the affair.

Bambi worked around the clock for weeks to pull the party together. She promised herself that the day of the party she’d have at least the morning and early afternoon to relax and get herself together, because she knew the night would be a night of remembrance.

The day of the party she visited the Regency Square Mall to pick up a few last-minute items, including the perfect strapless bra to wear under the halter dress that she planned to wear to
the party. As she passed the pet store, she saw a shiny black Persian cat in the window. Something about that cat caught her eye. Stopping in her tracks, she watched the cat sit all alone and show no emotion. The cat gazed at her but didn’t come over to investigate; nor did he entice her to come in and see him. She’d never had any interest in having a pet, not even as a child, so she was surprised that something about this cat connected with her. The cat reminded her of when she was a little girl. She was pretty, so black, and most of the time left alone because she didn’t fit in. The skin-color prejudices of her own black people made her feel like an outcast. The cat’s shiny coat made her smile as she thought of the Vaseline her mother would put on her face, saying, “It ain’t nothing worse than a black, ashy child. You might be black, but you’ll never be ashy.”

The cat’s nonchalant attitude brought back memories of being left alone to play as a child because none of the white kids wanted to play with her either. Then she thought about the times that her own father didn’t want to be bothered with her and seemed to showboat his other children by a light-bright-damned-near-white woman around town, never taking Bambi anywhere. To this day she had never ridden in her father’s car. For the longest time, his neglect had taken a toll on her, affecting her self-esteem, but after a while she’d gotten used to it and trained herself not to care.

As she stormed into the store, she thought to herself,
I betcha them stupid people bought all the white cats and left him sitting there. It’s all good though, because I am about to buy him. People make me so sick!

Before the sales clerk could ask her if she needed any help, Bambi pointed to the front of the store and demanded, “Did you guys have any white ones?”

“Are you talking about the Persian cat in the window?”

“Yes.” Bambi nodded.

“Ummm, we got those in about a week ago, and we got in ten white ones and two black ones. All the white ones are gone, and the other black one was sold to a family who had twins and they needed a way to differentiate the cats, so they got a black one and a white one.”

Bambi cut the woman off. “Let me see him.”

The woman reached into the window and got the cat. As soon as he was in Bambi’s arms, he purred, and she knew he was meant to be hers.

“He costs four hundred and thirty dollars,” the sales clerk informed her. She obviously felt the need to tell Bambi the price after inspecting her appearance. Bambi wore some blue faded and bleached tight-fitting jeans with strategically placed holes cut in them—only she had bought them like that. She wore a crisp white T-shirt that looked like it was a wifebeater without the ribbed material and some brand-spanking-new, white K-Swiss sneakers.

“Oh, okay, no problem. Is that all?” she asked.

The cat was so fluffy and cuddly. She hugged him tight before she handed him back to the lady. “Look, I want to pay for him now, and I’ll come back to pick him up later. I have some shopping to do and don’t want to lug him around the mall with me.”

“As soon as you pay for the cat you have to take him,” the clerk told her.

“Well, will you hold him for me, and I’ll be back for him in about an hour or so?” Bambi asked.

The clerk agreed. Bambi took one last look at the cat, whose eyes were filled with disappointment at her leaving.

“Baby, don’t worry. Momma will be back for you, okay?” she said as she turned to leave the store.

Once she found the bra, she stopped in the food court. She knew this would be the only time she’d be able to eat. She sat at a table eating a piece of greasy Sbarro pizza when someone walked up with some food from Chick-fil-A.

“Hey, miss. Lady, can we share this table?”

She looked up. It was Lynx, looking scrumptious even in his khaki pants and a khaki uniform shirt. Bambi remembered that Amy had told her Lynx owned a few businesses, but that crisp khaki outfit didn’t look like he had been doing any kind of strenuous work.

She rolled her eyes and said, “I don’t usually share tables with liars.”

“So that must mean yes, because I may be many things, but a liar ain’t one,” he said, and sat down across from her.

“I can’t tell.”

“Oh, if you talking about me not calling you, I lost your number.”

“Come a little better than that, baby. Give me a new and improved line, because that is the oldest line, or should I say lie, in the book.”

“For real, look a here, I looked high and low for that number. You going to give it to me again? I promise this time I’ll guard it with my life.”

“Sorry, Boo, you got a better chance getting it from the Psychic Network than from me.” She looked at her watch as if she had somewhere to get to.

“Damn, baby, tell me how someone so beautiful could be so cold.”

“I am not cold, but a brother makes me sick when he talks the talk but don’t walk the walk, know what I mean? Keep it real with me. I’ll keep it real with you.”

“So that’s what you want—a man who can keep it real.”

She nodded and smiled. “Yup.”

“Okay, then my question is, are you sure you can handle a man who’ll keep it real? Remember what they say: ‘Be careful what you ask for.’ ’Cause, babygirl, I’m as real as they come. I don’t play games. Hell, I quit school in kindergarten because they had recess.”

“Please. Baby, if you for real then I’m wit it ’cause I’m a true sister all the way in all ways.”

“We’ll see.” He smiled a big smile and then leaned over the table and whispered, “You got a big-ass booger hanging out of your nose! You better kill that sucker, because he sho is riding hard.”

Her smile turned to a frown, and the frown was converted into a look of embarrassment. When he saw that look, he moved in for the kill.

“See, I like you for you even with a booger in your nose,” he said, and casually handed her a napkin. He added, “I can get it for you, if you want me to.”

“No thanks.”

She went into her pocketbook and grabbed her handheld mirror, and lo and behold, Lynx wasn’t lying. Lynx changed the subject while he put her trash on his tray.

“I heard you doing my man’s party tonight, and they say you’re doing it big.”