Long Live the Queen, page 5
“Okay. Sounds like you got a work history.” What she had just spilled sounded good but that was one thing. I needed to know what she could do for this club in particular. “What are you trying to do different here?”
“Well, now I want to add club promoter strictly to my resume. I want to put all my energy into that. And I know I could do this if I had the chance. If you gave me the opportunity.”
“This club already has a reputation,” I had to remind her. “We pack the place five days a week. We have Happy Hour, and three nights a week, we pull crowds just to party with us. VIP is always booked. What can you contribute that we don’t already have?”
“Well, I’ve been grinding like I said. I’ve made some important contacts with a lot of local artists, some who have a hundred thousand or more followers on Instagram, Twitter, you name it. Meaning they have the potential to blow up and have a good following. I’m looking to bring those type of people in to perform and of course, their followers will come.” She was really trying to sell me. But I wasn’t all the way convinced yet.
“You’ve been doing your homework, that is a start,” was my nonchalant response. For a minute she looked confused. I think she thought her mention of bringing in her contacts would seal the deal. I could see her brain turning.
“So . . . umm, I also see you are hiring for a part-time bartender. I’m great at mixing drinks. I have my license to do so. With that being said, I would also like to apply for that position.” This time I was the one shocked. She really was shooting her shot to get in the doors and was determined not to be told no. And to be honest I really needed another part-time bartender. This could kill two birds with one stone. This time my brain was the one turning.
“I tell you what. I will give you the job as a part-time bartender. If you can bring in and promote some good clients that bring in good revenue, I will consider hiring you as a full-time club promoter, maybe.” The alarm on my phone beeped. The time I had to spare for this meeting was up. I had another engagement, so I wrapped this up. Shasha nearly jumped out of her seat; she was so happy I had agreed.
“Thank you so much for the opportunity. I promise you will not be disappointed.” Her cheeks stretched out from her huge grin.
“I guess time will tell.” I stood up. “Listen, I have to get going. But I need you to get started as a bartender this week. So, like ASAP. I’m going to leave you with Sharita. She is my top employee and in charge when I’m out. Sharita will finish up this interview with you and have you mix some drinks to make sure you are official. I know you say you have a license and whatnot, but the proof is in the pudding.” I kept it real.
“Hey, whatever you want me to do.” Shasha was still giddy.
Sharita had walked down to the other end of the bar where she was making sure the ice was stocked.
“How’d it go?” she asked as I approached her.
“Okay, I guess. I have to go. I want you to finish up the interview for me. She is applying for the part-time bartender position too. Have her mix some drinks ask a few more questions and report back.”
“Bartender huh?” Sharita gawked at her. “Yeah, I guess.” She seemed to read Shasha for clues. I giggled at her. Sharita had made it clear she wanted me to hire a guy for the bartending position. A fine one as she had put it to me.
I giggled as I walked away.
Chapter 7
“Can you give me a stop stick?” I asked the girl who passed me my cup of coffee out of the drive through window at the Dunkin’ on Crenshaw. Her long orange nails with diamond studded decorations nearly blinded me as the sun hit them. But they were cute though.
“We out.” She said so fast I thought she might be lying. I knew how lazy some of the workers could be. I nearly rolled my eyes from frustration. Stop sticks were important when people were driving. Just in case the hot coffee decided to spill over and burn the driver. I remembered hearing somewhere some coffee company had been sued for that exact same thing. If memory served me right, it was McDonalds. Clearly Dunkin’ Donuts had not gotten the memo. “Can I get you anything else?” she asked as if she was in a hurry for me to move, tapping her long nails on the windowsill.
“No thank you. But let your manager know stop sticks are important, they were made for a reason. Google it.” I added as a side note. Then I pulled out of the parking lot and out into the oncoming traffic. As usual, I noticed a few people hanging out, some attempting to sell things, others panhandling, and others telling anyone who would listen about their long-forgotten dreams. It was simply another normal day. But in Crenshaw you always kept your eyes open—it could jump off at any moment. And the last thing you wanted to be was the prey.
I was in the area to meet up with Mob. He had called me an hour ago and asked me to meet up at a spot we had in the neighborhood. But I was craving coffee something bad, so I had to make this pit stop.
“Precious, you really need to talk to the vendor.” Promise was on the other end of the phone. Just that quick I had forgotten while trying to get my stop stick. Our ombre-colored, twenty-four-inch hair order had been delayed twice.
“I will handle it.” I gripped my hot coffee cup, thanking God I didn’t just waste it. “I’m on way to a meeting, but I’ll hit Sarah up when I’m done.” I placed the coffee in the cup holder as I slowed at a red light.
“Please and tell her we can send a courier to Miami if need be. But we must have that hair.” Promise sighed. She was frustrated and so was I. But I was ready to make other moves on our hair orders.
“I told you we need to go over to Spain and cut a deal with the distributor. Cut the middleman out, it’s the American way.”
“Shi’ddd we need to do something, or risk getting jumped about this hair. These females ain’t playing about their inches,” Promise added. She was serious but it was funny.
“I have the solution to that though. Stay locked up behind closed doors until the hair is delivered Then they can’t jump you. Now I gotta run.” I was tickled about her summation of how it would go down if we did not cough up that hair.
I pulled up to the spot and put my Mercedes in park, turned off the ignition, and climbed out. It was an old house that we kept utilities on year round. Inside, Rob and Mob greeted me. They sat around a table that was in the middle of the living room of the house. Something was up because this was an emergency meeting.
I pulled out a chair, eased down. “Since I know this is not a social call let’s not waste time on preliminaries.” I cut straight to the chase. Getting unexpected news was a given in the game. But there was never a good time to receive it.
Mob had been relaxed in his chair, but he sat straight up. “Rolla’s spot need to be shut down immediately.” Mob’s tone was matter of fact. “There was a shootout in one of his territories a few hours ago . . . an eight-year-old girl was shot and killed.”
“Damn.” Jumped out of my mouth. People being killed was one thing but a child being killed was another matter. A horrible one. No part of the game would ever make me used to that type of senseless killing. “Didn’t I tell him to get that shit under control? That block been hot.”
“Shit been crawling wit’ cops, like flies to shit. Now babies’ bodies poppin’ up. That shit gone be full of Feds,” Rob added. “Another dollar won’t be made up that motherfucker, no time soon, they presence gone be so tight.”
“Them hot headed ass niggas he got on his team. They tryna still make a name for they self. Gotta cut they ass off at the neck,” Mob barked.
“A’ight. Make that shit happen, tonight. Hit Rolla up and meet with him. He is not to move shit in that territory past tonight. He needs to move that supply to one of his other territories. And have the customers move with the work. Have Don P watch to be sure that he follows orders to shut down that territory and that it stays closed. Nothing else happens there until I give the word.”
“Done.” Mob said. “I got a mind to merc the trigger finger eight-year-old killer my damn self.” Mob eyes were red with anger. He looked at me. “But I know the rules.”
I didn’t have to say anything because he said it. Sometimes we had to chill. But I agreed with him one hundred percent. A child killer didn’t deserve to be walking around after stealing a life. I too had to remember the rules and why they were in place.
“And while I got you here, just a heads up. I need everybody’s payment in two days. Every dime they owe. Anybody short, you know what to do.” I had to head to Miami in two days to see El Guapo and bring him his money. So there was no time for games. Rent was due and there were no exceptions. Anybody who couldn’t meet their obligations had bodily injury to death consequences depending on the shortage. It was simple, you got to pay to play. It was business, never pleasure.
“Let’s get to work.” Rob glanced at Mob. With that the meeting was over.
Now I had to get on the horn and let Marlo know what was going on. Since we were both in charge of both areas, we had to keep each other in the loop. We both trusted each other to make the right decisions on what we called minor matters. But if it was something we weren’t sure about we would hit each other up. But there were certain matters that we had to speak about and agree on before acting. Like any successful business, we had protocol.
Chapter 8
“Wake up, sleepy head.” I reluctantly rolled over and forced my eyes open. Promise had bounced down on the bed and startled me awake. I could not even remember when I had finally dozed off to sleep the night before. I had went straight home after meeting up with Mob and Rob, but I couldn’t shake that bad news out of my head of the eight-year-old girl being killed. I felt so bad for her family, and what they were probably going through. After taking a shower, I had attempted to watch a movie on TV, but I couldn’t focus. Eventually, I had poured myself a glass of Patron and mixed it with Cranberry. When the first glass didn’t work, I had tried another.
I remembered feeling sleepy but had no idea when I had dozed off. But thankfully the Patron had done its job. Now the sun was shining bright through my windows, and Promise had popped up. But I was still sleepy and not in the mood to be woken up yet.
“Why are you up, out, and bouncing on my bed this early in the morning?” I placed my face downward into my Versace sheet set. It felt like silk rubbing into my face. “Did you not feel like sleeping in?” I pouted.
“Nope. Believe it or not I could not sleep. Trust me I tried, but no matter what I did sleep just wouldn’t claim me. So, in the midst of my dismay I got out of bed at five o’clock and hit the gym.” That made me turn over to face her. Promise never worked out without me all but dragging her.
“You went to the gym without me forcing you? And why didn’t you wake me?”
Promise grinned. “I knew you would ask that. But yes, my dear sister, I found the courage to work out alone. And I worked out on the all the machines you have forced me to. And no, I did not skimp on the time.” She was always trying to cheat on the routine. If I told her run on the elliptical for twenty minutes, she tried to run for ten. If I said do thirty squats, she tried to do fifteen. “I decided to not wake you since I know you don’t get enough rest, and need to reset.”
“Ha,” I sang. “You didn’t have any problem waking me just now. Bouncing in my bed like a crazy person. What about that reset you said I needed?”
“Oh, stop your whining.” She reached for my covers and snatched them back. The cold chill in the room instantly turned to chill bumps on my skin. “Now get outta this bed and get in to gear. Rosa downstairs whipping up French toast and some juicy slices of bacon that she dipped in some maple, and it smells so good, Precious.” She licked her lips. “I’m so glad I been to the gym already. Them calories already burned.”
“You are silly.” I smiled. “But I’m wit’ all that. Now get off my bed. I’ll meet you downstairs in a minute.” I smiled and started to scoot to the edge of the bed. The sleep feeling was still weighing me down, but now my stomach was showing signs of being empty. And the announcement of Rosa’s breakfast was more than enough encouragement to snatch me out of bed. I headed for the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face.
“Rosa what would I do without you? This food smells so good.” I said as I entered the kitchen. The bacon smell was just purely divine. I could not wait to get that greasy, salty taste in my mouth. “I’m gaining weight just thinking about stuffing my face.”
Rosa pulled plates from the cabinet. Promise filled two glasses with Tropicana orange juice. I walked over to the counter and stood next to Rosa, she handed me a platter with bacon. “Set this on the table. I’ll scoop you both this hot French toast off the griddle.” I set the warm platter in the center of the table and placed my body in a chair. Promise sat a glass of orange juice in front of me.
“I’m so glad I came here this morning. Rosa, you have her so spoiled.”
“Don’t she,” I agreed, then reached for some bacon, I could feel the grease on my fingers, this was going to be good. I bit off my first piece and closed my eyes and chewed the goodness.
Rosa smiled. “Eat plenty and get full, señorita. You too, Promise. You both skin and bones.”
“We are not.” Promise and I said in unison while we grinned and chewed. Rosa always accused us of being too thin. She would feed us cornbread and flour tortillas everyday if we let her.
“I feed you until you get fat. American girls want to be skinny, nothing wrong with a little meat covering those bones.” She laughed and exited the kitchen.
“Hey, if I get to eat this good every day, I’ll welcome the fat.” Promise drowned her French toast with Mrs. Butterworth’s Light syrup.
“I know, right and save me some of that syrup. Dang, you gone eat it all.” I picked up my glass of orange juice. “So, why can’t you sleep?” I pried. I knew it had to be deep if Promise was waking up hitting the gym.
“Who knows.” She hunched her shoulders and passed me the syrup bottle. “Maybe I ate too late before laying down?” Pressing the fork down into her French toast she pulled off a piece and slid it into her mouth. “Mmmm,” she moaned.
“You so greedy,” I teased. “But real talk that could be why you couldn’t sleep.” I decided eating before bed was a good reason for sleep to elude someone. At least that is what I had heard many times in my life. “Are you going in at the salon today?”
Promise was chewing, she finished up then swallowed. “Yeah, around noon. I got two clients and some paperwork to handle.”
“Did you make it over to the hair store to pick up those deposits?”
“Taken care of.”
“Cool. I haven’t been able to get over there. I spoke with Sarah last night and the hair will be here tomorrow. But I got to get over to the store and place some more orders. I just have been too busy. I leave for Miami in a few days, so I gotta get it done.”
“Speaking of Miami, I’ve been talking to that guy, Money. He asked me to fly out.”
“Fly out?” I repeated her words from shock.
Promise set her fork on the edge of her plate. “Why you say it like that? All suspicious like.”
“Isn’t it obvious? Why would he ask you that? You don’t know him.” I looked her in the eyes and forked some more of my French toast. I didn’t want it to get cold.
She clasped her hands together and laughed. “Hence why we have been talking on the phone. There is a reason people do that, you know.” She teased me.
“Whatever, do what you want. But please . . . don’t make me merc the dude.” I tried to give a serious look but we both burst out laughing. But even still I was serious and she knew it.
Chapter 9
Today I really had a full plate of things I must cross off my to-do list. And I intended to do that no matter what tried to intervene. Which normally in the day and life of me could be just about anything. First, I was supposed to meet up with some painters over at Dad’s house. They were giving me a quote for the inside of his garage, and the attic that I was having repainted. It had been a long time since those were touched up and it was time. The paint was peeling, cracking, you name it.
But once again, other emergencies were trying to derail my plans. One of the pressers at the cleaners was acting up again. Katrina had called me before she closed last night to let me know. I could hear the frustration in her tone. She remembered when Dad was having trouble with the pressers back when he was alive. But his finances had been so bad that he couldn’t afford to have them fixed. And they were so old he couldn’t insure them. The ones I had were new, purchased when the dry cleaners had been remodeled. So, I was not sure what was going on, but I had to get the company on the phone where I had a contract, so they could get a technician out as soon as possible. To do that I had to be at the dry cleaners because there were specific ID numbers they required you to have off the machine when you called in, and I still had not gotten around to adding Katrina to the list of people they could speak with. I had been meaning for the past year to get that done. But for some reason or another I still had not. However, I would be making that change as soon as I was on the phone with them, this day.
“Hey Regina,” I spoke, as soon as I opened the door and stepped inside the dry cleaners. She was turned around, her back to the entrance, sorting some safety pins in a container we kept on the back counter. They were normally stuck together so I knew she was trying to spread them apart, which could be a daunting task. I used to spend hours doing that when I worked my shifts and I hated it.
“What’s up, Precious.” Regina turned to around. “Please tell me you are here about that big presser. It has been giving me the blues this morning. I just been running orders on the small one.”
“I’m so sick of that machine. I swear for all the money I paid for it . . . but yeah I’m going to call them now.” I stepped behind the counter. “Where Katrina at? I thought she would be here this morning?” I was surprised Regina was behind the counter. I had been expecting Katrina. She was always here at this time, and she never called out. I could set my watch to Katrina’s shifts; she was that dependable.
