The Game Never Ends. Zaire Crown
escorting two women. One preceded the other.
The first was a tall, slender Latina in perhaps her mid-forties. She was incredibly fine despite not trying to play up her femininity. She was in a Ralph Lauren suit tailored to fit with jet-black hair pulled back into a bun. She presented herself as all business and Tuesday thought she looked like one of their lawyers at Abel.
The woman that followed had the same height, build, and face. She was a twin but with a totally different look and swagger. The second was dressed like she had just left a gala. She was in a white mink wrap over a form-fitting tan suede dress that Tuesday thought was fly as hell. The gold shoes matched her belt and bag. Her hair spilled over her shoulders in shimmering cascades of black silk and Tuesday could tell it was all real.
Tuesday was floored because she was looking at one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen, and if it wasn’t for the moment probably would’ve yelled “Dayyummm!” Her dark-brown eyes were fierce and her mouth would tempt Jesus. She had the type of face that would get her the lead role on a Spanish soap opera even if she never acted a day in her life.
The Mexican beauty had her practically seeing stars but Marcus only looked at her with cool detachment.
The two valets fetched extra chairs. The ladies joined Tuesday and Marcus at their table like they were merely dinner guests arriving late due to traffic.
La Guapa looked to Marcus. “It’s been a long time. About fifteen years right?”
Whatever reaction she was hoping for, Marcus didn’t oblige. He had the face of a statue. “You went through a lot to set this up. I can tell by the look on your face, you’re really proud of yourself right now.”
“No, not proud. Actually, a little disappointed that you made this so easy. At what point did you realize?”
Marcus shook his head. “I see you still think everything’s a damn game.”
“But I like games, especially those that challenge the intellect.” She flashed a luminous smile with flawless white teeth. “Humor me, please.”
“Your boy here gave it away.” He motioned to the dead waiter at their feet leaking blood and cranial fluids. “It’s Cali, so it’s not uncommon to find all Mexican waiters at an Italian restaurant. But two Mexican waiters trying like hell to hide their south Texas accents, who just happen to have bulges under their vests.” He pointed to the second waiter who he shot at. “And that one there still got a little blood on his sleeve.”
The gunman looked down at his shirt and spotted two tiny drops on his cuff that were barely noticeable.
Marcus said, “Probably splashback from the real waiter he killed to get the uniform. I was slippin’ but my wife caught the biggest give away. Your boys shouldn’t have killed the chefs before they started cooking. Having some food to put out would’ve helped to sell it.”
“You know what a stickler I am for details.” La Guapa threw a nod to one of her personal escorts who immediately turned and shot the second waiter.
She turned back to Marcus. “Those amazing deductive powers aren’t as sharp as they used to be. The man I used to know would’ve sniffed out this trap before stepping out of his car.”
She gave Tuesday a smug grin that said, Yes bitch, your man used to suck my pussy.
“She’s pretty.” La Guapa stroked her sable wrap. “She sort of has a Shenahnay-from-around-the-way quality that some men find appealing. I just expected someone with your pedigree to have made a more refined choice.”
Marcus snapped, “You don’t know my pedigree and you don’t know hers. Now watch how you talk about my wife.”
Tuesday appreciated him checking her but didn’t appreciate that she couldn’t do it herself. She obeyed his warning. It was just hard letting this bitch talk about her like she wasn’t there.
While Tuesday kept her tongue in check, she didn’t shy away with her gray eyes. She sent a clear message to La Guapa that even though she had the ups, Tuesday wasn’t intimidated.
The two ladies became locked in a staring match and seemed to be gauging each other.
Tuesday was searching for any flaw, any pimple, blemish or imperfection that she could criticize her for. The problem was that La Guapa had none. Her attitude was shitty but even Tuesday had to admit there was an ethereal beauty about the woman, the kind that inspired artists and poets. Tuesday was a hood dime and used to being the baddest chick in the room, but sitting across from La Guapa made her feel a little insecure.
La Guapa smiled as if able to read that insecurity. It was the look a woman gave to another woman whom she didn’t consider competition. Tuesday knew it because she had given it to quite a few bitches in her day.
Marcus broke up the contest. “What the fuck you want, Reina? We both know this isn’t a hit.”
She sneered. “Don’t get cute. You won’t be able to hide behind my father for much longer.”
“Don’t make the mistake of thinking your father is the only powerful friend I have.”
“You haven’t worn the jewelry in a long time. From what I hear, nobody at the table recognizes you.”
His face was grim. “You already know that I ain’t never needed protection. So what are we doin’ here?”
She leaned back in her seat. “I’m just here to personally extend your invitation to our little gathering. Things are about to change and you play a critical role in this transition.”
Tuesday finally disobeyed her husband. “But why? Why he gotta be involved when he ain’t had nothing to do wit’ y’all for so long?”
She ignored the shut the fuck up look Marcus was giving her.
La Guapa laughed. “Oh, so she speaks. And so eloquently I might add. You didn’t tell me she was a poet laureate.”
Tuesday started to respond but Marcus spoke over her.
“I already made plans to be there. I also wanted to pay my respects to Rene.”
“He would like that,” said the conservative twin in the business suit who had not spoken.
Marcus quipped, “Roselyn, you still talk too much.”
This earned a thin smile from her. “Hello Sebastian, it’s good to see you too. I just hate that it had to be under these circumstances.”
He shrugged. “I guess we got your sister to thank for that. I thought you would’ve gotten away from this crazy bitch by now.”
It was her turn to shrug. “What can I say, somos hermanas.”
“I’ve tried to never hold that against you.” And they both laughed.
As they spoke, Tuesday could see La Guapa was annoyed by their banter. She rolled her eyes and made little disgruntled noises. It was obvious she didn’t like not being the center of attention.
She broke in: “You are incredible, Sebastian. Rico considered you his best friend, and even after you killed him, my father still embraced you like a son. You’ve had me in your bed, and after all these years, Rose still looks at you like she’s ready to cum in her panties.”
Tuesday watched the quiet sister look away, shamed. She and Marcus were going to have a talk when they got home.
La Guapa said: “Tell me your secret. Tell me our weakness. What is it about my family that makes us eat right out of the palm of your hand?”
Marcus stared at her for a moment. His expression was sincere and sympathetic. “Your family was my family, Reina. Rene was a father to me, and Rico was a brother. The saddest thing of all is that you done spent twenty years hating me for something I didn’t do. I carry my own guilt about Rico, but not because I killed him. Because I should’ve been with him.”
She shook