"What?" He begins with a smile while handing me a cup of coffee, "No, ‘I'm not short' today as you roll your neck? No talking back?"
I take a sip of the coffee while trying not to smile. "Not today."
"Talk to me, ma. Tell me what's going on and why you aren't giving your coffee or tea to Aliyah."
"So, you know I never drink it?" I chuckle. Wow, Deondre usually can't get me to laugh. Or if I'm getting ready to start Aliyah comes sliding through all late.
"Yeah. Guess it's just wishful thinking that one day our little chats will be over coffee. Man, I think I even ordered almost every kind of tea available, all just to see if we could chat for a while and it would lead to you going out with me. Miss Independent, you don't make it easy on a brotha," he provides a 1000 watt smile, of clear white teeth. If only I had made Deondre smile like this a few months back.
Now I'm stuck on Vic so this sexy sight does nothing for me.
"Deondre," I bite my lip, "I'm not dating..."
"You sure?" Deondre gives an arched eyebrow that makes him look even sexier. "Word on the streets is that you got a white boy. And yes, I'm checking up on you, Lux."
I take another sip of the coffee, wanting so desperately not to answer that question. "It's complicated."
"I see." Deondre backs on out the door, with a smile. He really is a nice guy, despite the fact that he's a player and I know it. But why do I feel like Deondre has been waiting for us. Besides knowing that, his easy on the eye looks pulls him a bunch of random women, he has never brought them by cup after cup of coffee or tea. It's like we had a chance, but I never even allowed it to start.
At this place in my life, I don't want to make any moves. Victor and his ever-changing situation has my mind in disarray. He's splurged on dinner each time we ate, and that hotel room must be racking up. His clothing is expensive, even his undergarments sport a tag name. Yet, he's in debt for more money than I'll probably see in a lifetime.
$500,000.
He's bossy. Egotistical. One day Vic will be gone with the wind. But until then I'm captivated by his intensity. The sex is to die for.
Again Mom's words are in the back of my head. My dearest Lux, I wish you adventure on this journey we call life. Victor is nothing short of a jaw-dropping escapade. Then again, Mom said, "listen to your heart, and weigh out risks … " Of all Mom's golden morsels of advice, I never pondered this one.
Heart and Mind.
Those two entities are so uncomplimentary that the bit of insight doesn't even make sense.
"Mom that is the lousiest advice you've ever given," I say to myself, while chuckling through my tears. The heart knows not the worries of risk. The brain knows not the depth of the heart …
This day turns out to be a very lonely one as Aliyah called about 30 minutes into shift to tell me that she wasn't feeling well. It's a Tuesday. Not many people buy flowers on a Tuesday, so I end up with my kindle reading one of my guilty conscious street lit books. As I'm engrossed in the never-ending suspense, someone steps inside. I look up quickly. The intensity of the person's presence makes me think that it's Victor. Instead of hypnotic blue eyes threatening to possess me to the point of insanity, I look into the murky green ones.
The man is big, and I mean really big. Must be close to 7 feet tall. His buzz cut is a pale blond and almost matches his skin tone; one of his arms is the size of my thighs put together. He has on what may have been a white tee – now soiled yellow with spots and underarm stains – that stretches across his beefy chest, and army fatigues that appear to have been on his body for years.
"Good afternoon, Sir, how can I help you?" I smile despite the discomfort that I'm feeling while looking at the jagged scars in his arms, and it even appears that someone had attempted to slit his throat. There's a raise whelp going halfway across the left side of his neck.
"Hello, beautiful," he begins in a tone that's meant for one of those Russian war movies. The guy leans over onto the glass counter, and more scars from his thick knuckles become apparent. "You have gorgeous eyes, wow," he says.
"Thank you," I instinctively step back. My neighbor, Trina, walks past the window of the store. My heart clenches as she continues on without coming inside.
"That is good, it's just me and you," the man says, looking back too. Then his attention is sole on me again.
"What do you want?" My arms fold, knowing the man is trying to be menacing.
"Your eyes." He makes this quick movement as if to show me how quickly it would be to pluck out my eyes.
The hair on the back of my neck rises, goose bumps dot my arms, and the Russian knows it. His lips curve and jagged crocked teeth begin to smile. This bastard is enjoying himself. Taking a deep breath, Lux from the Bronx takes over, "How funny, so you like my eyes, but that ain't as funny as your ass being full of buck shots if you don't get the hell out of here!" I shout at him, and step toward the register as if to indicate that I have some type of heat if he continues. The man's hands again lean on the glass, and then he pulls himself up and slides over.
My heart drops into the pit of my stomach as I look up, up, up at him.
"Luxury, girl, stop playing with me, ma, really when we going … out?" Deondre starts into the store.
My eyes wrench away from this beast of a man to my friend. Deondre has this look as his head cocks to the side, and his chest puffs up.
"Hey, man," Deondre says from the door, pulling a gun from his pocket. "Step the fuck away from – "
Instead of heeding the warning, the Russian's hands wrap around my neck and he holds me back to him like a shield. A foul odor from his musty pits threatens to subdue me.
"I'll take this little bitch out, squeeze her head from her neck in one quick sweep!"
He begins to back away, while strong-arming my neck with one hand. The difficulty of breathing as my neck is being tightened, thrust me toward a hazy light...
Victor
Rubbing my face, I slowly sit up in my Bulgari bed. The Egyptian cotton linen slides down my bare abs. Damn, overslept. Now Burt is in my ear, telling me that this was only going to end one way.
With the Whitsons' death.
Doctor Whitson because of the new assassin assigned to his case. Lux is collateral damage for fucking with me.
"Hire someone to watch Luxury around the clock, we have an important event coming up back home, Vic," Burt tries to interest me or deter me with the fact that I need to go home soon. His eyes are shrunken in as are mine since we've taken to watching Luxury in cycles around the clock.
"No," I shake my head, and begin into the bathroom to brush my teeth and shower.
"Duke of Arlington! Why are we taking on a security stance? Tell me?" He tries to get in my face, but I have a one-track mind. The fatherly tone won't work today.
Spitting out the foam, I wash my mouth out. "Burt, your orders are to watch Luxury until you could be relieved of duty. You don't look relieved to me!"
"She's at Urban Gardens virtually no customers today. That's beside the point. Victor Wesley D' Ross, when you accept a mission, you go in for the kill. It's therapy to you. Allowing you to strategize the death of someone you know not, and care not of. There's no connection involved."
"I need to get to Luxury's shop." I decide to quickly wash my face and dress in Burberry Exchange jeans and a shirt.
Burt stands at my door; it's all in his stance that I'm going above the call of duty for Lux.
"You want to know why this isn't just a closed case?" I ask, while hastily putting on loafers.
"You decided to make the mark's daughter yours!"
I put a hand up in consideration. Burt is past the point of no return with regard to arguing his position. Since he's always had this paternal stance with me, I decide not to get angry. He follows me to the living room, where I grab a stack of files off the coffee table. "This is why I'm not on top of my game." I shove the papers in his hands. While Burt was out watching Lux from midnight to noon, I've been reviewing the files that Monica sent.
Burt opens the manila envelope slowly. He gasps, ruffling through 8 by 7 photos of a female's mutilated body. "Ghastly! Who is this and what has it got to do with us?"
"Gina Whitson, Luxury's mother."
He continues to search each angle intensely, livid at the thought of someone accosting Luxury's mother. As a royal butler, his sole duty is my well-being and livelihood. He's done well for my entire thirty-five years of life, but the little minx pulls at Burt's heartstrings. Burt wants to help.
"Who did this?" Burt asks, his voice holding a slight tremor.
"The same man who put a hit out on the good doctor's life," I reply backing away. "Got to get to Luxury, she and Aliyah can't defend themselves."