His Final Deal. Theresa A. Campbell

      Chapter Twelve

      “I’m out,” Suave barked after exiting the club. He threw a cold look at Cobra before storming off toward his Benz. It was 1:00 a.m.

      “Suave. Wait.” Daddy Lizard ran up to the car as Suave slipped behind the steering wheel, slamming the car door shut. He started the car and rolled down the window.

      “At least take two soldiers with you,” Daddy Lizard implored his boss, his head hanging inside the car through the opened window. “Things are going to get rough. You can’t take any chances.”

      Suave replied, “I’m good. You know I don’t leave my piece. Plus, where I’m going, King Kong won’t venture.”

      “Are you sure? I know you’re pissed at what went down tonight, but you have to be careful.”

      Suave said through clinched teeth, “Now I’ll not only have King Kong and crazy Saddam on my behind but the police as well. I don’t need this right now.”

      “I know. Let’s sleep on it, and tomorrow, we’ll come up with a plan.” Daddy Lizard pulled back from the car.

      Suave peeled off without a response. He drove with one hand on the steering, the other reached for his cell phone and dialed a number. He held the phone to his ear.

      “Hey,” Pat answered Suave’s call on the first ring. “My mind just ran on you.”

      “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Suave’s voice was very cold. “Get some food ready because I’m starved.”

      “You know I got you, Big Daddy.” Pat’s voice held a mixture of fear and excitement. “It’ll be ready when you get here.”

      Suave clicked off the phone. With a mean, hard look on his face, he pressed a little harder on the gas. He needed to get to Pat’s fast so that he could get away from all the craziness that had gone down tonight.

      True to his word, twenty minutes later, Suave pulled up in front of Pat’s house in Havendale, Kingston. The garage door was up, so Suave drove in and parked beside a white convertible BMW. He exited the car, hurried over to the garage door opener mounted on the wall, and pressed it. The door made a low grinding sound as it rolled down.

      “Where are you?” Suave yelled when he entered the living room through the side door from the garage. “Yo, Pat?”

      “I’m right here.” Pat glided from the bedroom into the living room, wearing a short, sheer, red bathrobe with nothing under it and struck a pose in front of him. “Hey.” Pat stared at Suave’s face intently, trying to gauge his mood.

      Suave swallowed loudly, his face set in stone. “Where’s my food?” The grumbling of his stomach seemed to agree.

      Pat took a step back and laughed. “Someone is hungry. Come on, I heated up some chicken soup for you.” Pat walked into the kitchen with Suave a step behind.

      “So, how was the club?” Pat asked with caution as they sat around the dining table. “How many hoochie mamas gave you their number?”

      Suave took a sip of his soup before he looked up. “How many times I told you not to question me?”

      Pat frowned. “Sorry. I was just making conversation.”

      Suave drank some more of the delicious soup before saying, “Do I look like I need conversation to you? Just sit and keep your mouth shut.”

      Pat’s lips pouted like a spoiled child but didn’t speak again. Except for the slurping of the soup as Suave ate, no sound was heard.

      Moments later, Suave said, “So, how was your day?” He placed the spoon into the almost empty soup bowl and leaned back against the chair. Pat now had his undivided attention. It was time to converse for a while.

      “Same ole, same ole. I helped Queen Bee and the girls take care of some business. Queen Bee got into it with a few workers, so I had to break up some fights...”

      Suave laughed out loud.

      Pat stared at him for a few seconds before joining in.

      “That Queen Bee is something else. In fact, all of you are a piece of work,” Suave remarked when the laughter ceased.

      Pat smiled. “That we are. What can I say?”

      “So, where were you guys taking care of business and behaving like gangsters?” Suave was cunning in extracting as much information from Pat as possible. This was something he would do every time he and Pat were together. He asked questions about Queen Bee’s operation, and Pat, who was so infatuated with him, provided all the answers without even realizing it.

      “Over in Spanish Town. Central Village, to be exact.” Pat smiled, happy that he was conversing. It was all about pleasing Suave. “We have a new supplier who just came in from Haiti.”

      “Go, Queen Bee. You all are doing it, huh?” An idea began to form in Suave’s head. Queen Bee did business in Spanish Town today. The same day that someone robbed King Kong and killed Saddam’s grandfather. What a coincidence.

      “Yup, we are doing it,” Chatty Mouth continued. “We just got a huge shipment that will give even you, Big Shot, a run for your money.” Pat laughed out loud.

      Suave’s dimples flashed in his cheeks, his eyes as cold as icebergs. “Be careful where you keep this huge shipment.”