that stairway. I hardened. She moved slow against my hand until she couldn’t move slow anymore. She was there, eyes tight, mouth shaped like the letter O, all ragged breaths.
Her back arched when she began crossing that threshold, a moaner, a wiggler, a screamer.
I kept fingering her, suckling her breast, watched her face cringe and glow.
She came in jerky motions, whining, moaning my name.
Her eyes opened wide. She swallowed.
I pulled her clothes off. Took mine off. Her legs opened, welcomed me.
Day’s break eased into the room, squeaks and moans fading with the rising of the sun.
The clock told me it was time to shower, get dressed, head toward LAX.
Panther asked, “You gonna be able to make it on no sleep?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t know.
Her cellular rang. It was her mother, calling for their morning conversation. Panther went into Southern-fried daughter mode, all smiles and giggles, restless, moving that cornbread and buttermilk body back and forth. Since she didn’t have pajamas and slippers, she put on my suit coat and shoes. My clothes swallowed her. She paced, checking the window every time she heard a noise, her voice sounding like nothing was wrong. Overheard her asking about her sister and her nieces, then they went on talking about her brother being deployed in Iraq, another man living in a combat zone.
My cellular blew up.
Lisa’s number showed up. My head wound came back to life, throbbed.
I touched my old Band-Aid, stepped into the bathroom and answered.
She wanted to meet.
22
Lisa’s Hummer was in the employee parking garage of the Hilton. She had told me to meet her on the lower level, right outside the entrance for 24-Hour Fitness. Panther had dropped me off across the street at Carl’s Jr., then I had walked over.
There were a few people downstairs, blue suits and dark dresses. Some were setting up for some sort of technology convention.
Lisa was standing next to a column, dressed in a black suit, low heels, hair in a bun.
Smiling.
She asked, “How’re you coming on getting me my money?”
“I should slap the fuck out of your crazy ass.”
“Penalties and interest, Driver.”
“That shit wasn’t necessary.”
“Whatever you said to my husband wasn’t necessary.”
“Oh, you’re the good wife now.”
“I hope that’s where you and your whore were heading last night, to bring me what you stole from me. And instead of lying up in a cheap hotel with your whore, you’d better get busy trying to get my money.”
She knew where I was last night. That stopped me. I’d looked around last night, made sure we weren’t being followed. I snapped, “What, you put a GPS on my friend’s car?”
Lisa laughed.
I asked, “You got somebody following me?”
Her laughter grew.
My chest rose and fell, out of sync with my throbbing head. A few people came our way, stared at us, walked by without saying a word, got on the elevator.
I sucked in a hard breath, eyes burned from being open all night, head hurt from not eating. Despite all that, I took it down a notch, said, “Here. I have three.”
“Three? This some kind of a joke?”
“Working on the rest.”
I handed her the money I’d gotten from Arizona. A rubber band held it together.
She held the three large in her right palm, like her hand was a monetary scale.
She sounded like she was in a state of extreme agitation, said, “That’s not the deal. You have a problem with integrity, a serious issue honoring your end of the contract on all levels. I said get me half, and you give me three?”
“Will that get your ass to back off for a minute?”
“Penalties and interest accrue all day. Every second of every minute.”
It took all I had to not backhand her ass right then. She owed me for the damage she had done to me, the damage she had done to Panther. I wanted to slap her down into the pavement, but all I could do was shake my head, laugh a bit, push my heavy lips up into a sardonic smile.
I asked, “Until I get half, what can I do to make this better?”
A pause rested between us.
She said, almost in a whisper, “Oh. Now you want to fuck me?”
“I didn’t say that.”
I stayed strong. Felt like I was facing a nigga on the yard. She was just as bad, just as relentless. I told her, my tone hard, “Back off. I’ll get you your money.”
“That’s sounds very Christian. Now you have integrity, a man of your word.”
“Save the Flip Wilson routine. I’ll get your