Part 19 (1/2)
The inside of the car was completely dark except for the two pairs of eyes that glowed like full moons. A painfully familiar glow to Rhonda.
”Ricky, I said no thank you. I don't want no ride. Why you so interested in givin' me a ride anyway? I'm not gettin' high. You're just wastin' your time!”
Ricky stopped the car as Rhonda turned and walked away.
”Rhonda,” he called, trailing a few feet behind her now. ”Why the h.e.l.l you always got to bad mouth somebody. You don't wanna smoke. I ain't said a G.o.ddam thing 'bout smokin'. Hey! Quit walkin' away from me when I'm talkin'.”
Rhonda turned, now thoroughly irritated. She recalled her last few encounters with Ricky. The bus ride home from DePaul when he tempted her unsuccessfully. She blamed him for her first relapse. And here he was blatantly trying again.
”Ricky, just please let me be.”
Rain began to fall, gently at first, more harshly moments later. She thought about her walk home, a walk she now dreaded.
”Look it's pourin' now. I know you don't wanna walk home in this s.h.i.+t. Quit trippin'. Come on and get in the car. You ain't got no umbrella.” Ricky's voice softened.
Rhonda's canvas tennis shoes were soaking up the wetness like a towel.
”Take me straight home and drop me off in the parking lot.”
A triumphant smirk flashed across Ricky's face as Rhonda walked toward the idling car. They sputtered down the alley.
”We just got to make one stop.” Ricky said, studying her face in the rearview mirror.
Sat.u.r.day night. Champ pulled into the parking lot, circling twice in search of a safe spot for the Lexus.
”It's packed,” b.u.mp said, straightening the bandanna around his freshly braided cornrows.
Champ maneuvered between two cars and killed the engine.
”Stash the heater under the seat.”
b.u.mp pulled the gun from his belt buckle and slid it beneath the pa.s.senger seat.
Walking toward the club they straightened, brushed, and looked themselves over. b.u.mp wore baggy cargo pants and Timberland boots. A long sleeved T-s.h.i.+rt served as backdrop for a navel-length gold medallion. Champ wore leather boots squared at the toe, soft jeans, and a fitted silk s.h.i.+rt. Diamond studded earrings pulled at his lobes; a diamond ring and watch dazzled in the overhead light.
Music pulsated. People glanced at them as they waded through the crowd toward the bar. Champ ordered a double Hennessy, c.o.ke-chaser; b.u.mp ordered the same.
Heavy fog filled the room. Everywhere the clang of gla.s.ses, the buzz of conversations, the thud of base. Champ drifted through the crowd dispersing mandatory handshakes, hugs, and nods. Colors filtered through the room like light bending through crystals.
He greeted everyone as friends, all with a smile of familiarity. He saw everything unfold in the third person, like he imagined a well-seasoned director would notice every detail of a scene. He cut through the dance floor, found an empty table against a mirrored wall, and sat sipping his drink.
Champ's mind wandered, captured only faintly by the woman staring at him from across the room. He stirred the ice in his drink with a long straw watching it swirl in ch.o.r.eographed circles inside the gla.s.s. She sauntered across the room impervious to gawking eyes that followed her like radar. He stood, then leaned over and whispered, ”How you doin', beautiful?”
She smiled. ”Fine”
”What's your name?”
”Raven.”
”Very nice to meet you, Raven,” he said, extending his hand. ”I'm Champ.” Lights reflecting at precise angles made his ring glitter. ”You from around here?”
”Moved here a few months ago.”
”Figured that,” he said, almost stepping on her reply. ”I don't forget pretty faces and I haven't seen yours.”
”You talk a nice game . . . Champ.”
Champ smiled. He liked the way she said his name. He loved the way she looked. Beautiful. Flawless mahogany skin, almond shaped eyes, mesmerizing long, toned legs.
”I like your style . . . Champ.” She paused, overtly sizing him up. ”Different. Not like the rest of the brothers I've met.”
”Thank you.”
He took another sip, more from habit than necessity. ”You empty-handed or just not drinking?”
”Just finished one. So I guess that makes me empty-handed.”
”Well, drinks on me the rest of the night. A pretty lady like you shouldn't be empty-handed if you don't wanna be. Here, have my seat. What you drinkin'?”
”s.e.x on the Beach.” She smiled, revealing a set of perfect gleaming teeth.
Guilt crept up on Champ on his way toward the bar, his mind overwhelmed with thoughts of Kymm. He needed to hear her voice. He ordered the drink and took it back to Raven.
”Here you are,” he said, his voice flat. ”It was cool meetin' you, but I got to make a call.”
Raven's face twisted in a puzzled expression. Champ walked toward the far end of the club and told b.u.mp he was going outside. He needed quiet to make his calls.
His watch read 2:15. He dialed his home number; the phone rang three times before she picked up.
”h.e.l.lo,” Kymm's voice answered groggily.
”Hey baby.”
”Champ, why're you calling this late? I thought you were at the club?”
”I am at the club-well I'm outside the club. I was just thinking about you.”
Kymm didn't respond.