Always Unique Page 9

  Lola’s eyes brightened with recognition of what Fat Tee had been trying to say. Then her normally sand-colored cheeks reddened with embarrassment.

  “You sick,” she said.

  “Me so sick,” Fat Tee assured her, nodding his head and somehow he made his eyes water a little like he was so anxious to go. “So you need to let me into my room, or give me a roll of toilet paper so that I can shit right here, because I have no intentions of dumping my load in my drawers.” He paced back and forth three times, then he stopped and crossed his ankles like he was desperate to hold it in. “And I don’t think management will appreciate you telling their guest to shit in the hallway.” Unsure of how much of what he said the housekeeper understood, Fat Tee started unbuckling his belt as if he was more than prepared to follow through on his threat.

  Lola’s arm shot out like a traffic monitor trying to cut short an eight-year-old from running into a busy street. “No! No!” she said, begging. “Please. No do that.” Digging out the master keycard from her workpants she said, “No vroom-vroom in hall. Come, come. Me let you in room.” She was afraid that she would have to clean up the mess and probably get fired for letting someone of caliber use the bathroom on himself. After all, since he was staying in the Presidential Suite, he must be a rich man, but more important, a VIP! Lola swiftly fed the keycard into the lock, unknowingly allowing an intruder into Unique’s room.

  Inside the room, Fat Tee’s intentions, at first, were to tighten Unique up a little for pulling the pistol out on him the previous day. It never dawned on Fat Tee that if he hadn’t cornered Unique, demanding that she set Kennard up to be robbed, that she never would have had to threaten him with the gun in the first place.

  To him, it didn’t matter that he was the one that had cornered her. Fuck, she thought she was Jessica James or somebody?

  Honestly, once inside the room, Fat Tee hadn’t intended for events to unfold the way they did or the shit to go as far as it did. While she was in the shower, he snuck in and cut the lights to scare her and catch her off guard. He yanked her out of the shower and hit her with a blow to the head. At first Unique was off balance, but she was a tough cookie, though, and the whore could take a punch better than some men could. Although the blow took the wind out of her, it didn’t take long for her to bounce back. Once Unique bit off his earlobe and snapped her knee up into his crotch like she was trying to place gold in the Tae-Bo Olympics, Fat Tee lost it. At first the pain immobilized him. Writhing in pain, he thought she had gotten out on him again.

  He hated that she was still able to inflict pain upon him. Mentally, it was more than he could handle. The way she had played with his emotions so many years ago, the way she not only set him up to be robbed blind, not once but twice. Kicking a man in his private parts was a treacherous pain but killing a man’s ego and pride was even worse. No way in this lifetime was he going to let a bitch, a worthless, nothingless, trick-ass-whore-turned-housewife, whip him. With that being said, rage set in and caused him to black out. All he wanted was to make this bitch suffer until her dying breath.

  When he set out for New York City a couple of months ago, all Fat Tee had wanted was to be properly compensated for what Unique and her ex-boyfriend, Took, had taken from him. But then as soon as Fat Tee saw that she was living larger than anyone from Virginia had ever expected her to, that quickly changed. He had spent so much energy hating her and blaming her for his misfortunes that he could never focus on trying to pick up the pieces and get money like he always had. His hate for Unique had taken over his life for the past seven years.

  He felt she deserved everything he could squeeze out of that raunchy bitch. How did she think she was going to be living the life of luxury in New York City, not thinking twice about him, after he was left in Virginia scrambling? He had never recovered mentally or emotionally from when Took and her had gotten him—and left him for broke. He simply couldn’t help or control himself from snapping out on Unique.

  When Fat Tee finally came out of his maniac fugue, gaining control of his faculties for the first time, he saw Unique lying on the floor in a crimson pool. She wasn’t moving. He kicked her. “Bitch, get up!” he said.

  She was nonresponsive, and for a minute he thought he lying killed her and he was happy if he did. In his eyes, the bitch deserved to die.

  “That’s what you get, beyatch, for fucking my life up the way you did!” he said as if she could hear him and then he spit on her. But seeing her lying there so helpless and lifeless, for a moment, he sobered up quickly.

  “I gotta get the hell outta here,” he said out loud. Fat Tee went into the closet and got out a suit that probably belonged to Kennard. He grabbed a plastic hotel-issued laundry bag off another rack and put his bloody clothes inside it. He wiped everything down that he had touched, besides Unique. His eyes scanned the bathroom to be sure he hadn’t missed anything. He thought how it looked like a bad scene from a horror movie.

  Sneaking out the door in Kennard’s suit, Fat Tee thought, There’s always one survivor in those movies, and that’s me.

  Two hours later, Fat Tee sat with a bird’s-eye view of everything coming and going in and out of the Tabby Hotel. He pretended to read The New York Times while sipping on his coffee and watching the fire department arrive first, then the paramedics, and finally the police. From the top speed in which the paramedics were moving, Tee guessed that the damage he had done to Unique wasn’t fatal. He smiled to himself, thinking how tough Unique really was—that was the thing he always loved about her, her tenacity.

  He sat in in his booth dumbfounded and before he had even realized it, he had mumbled under his breath, “Damn, the beyatch ain’t dead after all!”

  THE CIRCUS

  Tyeedah arrived at the hospital a few minutes after the ambulance. She gave the cabbie a hundred dollars and ran inside, just in time to see two nurses prying Kennard’s hands away from Unique to take her into surgery.

  Once Unique was taken behind the double doors for the doctors to work wonders on their friend, she hugged Kennard. “She’s a fighter. You gotta know she’s going to pull through this.” She tried to console him though she had tears in her eyes. Tyeedah truly believed what she was saying; she just hoped that God did, too.

  It was hard for her, but she knew she had to be strong for her best friend’s man. She knew firsthand how much the two of them loved each other.

  Together they waited in the designated area for family and friends. It damn near broke Tyeedah’s heart when she saw the doctors have to pry Kennard’s hands away from Unique’s. Though she had heard about Kennard’s reputation with the girls around town long before Unique had even stepped foot in the city, having a front-row seat to witness firsthand their relationship develop from the very second it started could only lead to one question in Tyeedah’s head.

  Tyeedah’s mind went back to the one-in-a-million encounter.

  The party was in the Hamptons. A rapper who Tyeedah had become pen pals with in prison, invited her. Once they both returned to society, every now and again he came through and hit it. Though there was nothing serious between the two of them, he didn’t let the fact that his name was in lights affect anything between them. He still kept it real with her and made sure that Tyeedah’s name was on the list.

  At first, Unique didn’t believe Tyeedah when she informed them of their trip to the Hamptons and claimed that Diddy was throwing the party. But to be honest, she didn’t care if that bad boy was being catered by Osama bin Laden, Unique wasn’t turning down the opportunity to flaunt her stuff in the Hamptons practically since she arrived in New York. In her eyes it was a hell of a welcoming party.

  On that Friday, they got there early to make sure everything was in order. They didn’t want to be embarrassed if God forbid their names weren’t on the guest list. But not only were they on the guest list as promised, Tyeedah’s friend had set them up in VIP.

  Standing by the poolside and admiring all the famous guests, Unique had told Tyee
dah, “There must not be a concert anywhere in the country tonight, because everybody and their cousin is up in here.” Everywhere they looked there was a celebrity.

  Chicks were eyeballing the two of them down like they were purple martinis with green boogers. Tyeedah and Unique could never figure out why some girls had a problem complimenting other women since this was so not the case for either of them. In their minds, they may not have had the money or fame that a lot of these chicks had, but they could hold their own in the body and looks department. Giving others their just due was easy when one didn’t have insecurities of oneself.

  Tyeedah was bothered by how chicks were gritting on them, but Unique was enjoying herself to the fullest. The deejay was spinning on the wheels of steel and Unique started moving her shoulders, swaying her hips and snapping her fingers.

  Unique said, “Oh, that’s my jam right there!”

  Feeling the beat of the music, Unique started shaking what her momma gave her and drawing attention to herself. Just when she was just about ready to show them how to drop it like it was hot, VA style, someone bumped her, spilling some of the drink he was holding in his hand onto her dress.

  “What the hell?” She whipped around on five-and-a-half-inch heels, ready to curse out a clumsy, ditsy bitch. The sexy number she was wearing cost a grip and she had not even gotten a good wear out of it.

  Unique couldn’t believe her eyes. To her surprise, the culprit standing in front of her wasn’t at all what she was expecting. To say the least, she was pleasantly surprised. Boy, the big city had her dreaming even bigger.

  The hating chick turned out to be a six-foot-three man with the whitest teeth and the darkest, smoothest skin that looked tastier than Godiva chocolate. He had wavy hair, a killer smile, and black diamonds for eyes.

  Unique watched his lips as the words rolled off his tongue “My name is Kennard,” he said in a way that she would have bet her last piece of cash or ass that “Swagger” was his middle name.

  Maybe it was the alcohol but she liked the way his New York accent snapped off each syllable and that voice of his made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

  She said, “Don’t worry about it, hon!” The realness of the matter was that she would let a brother that fine dump a bucket of water on her, and as hot as he was, she would need every drop to cool down.

  Those eyes that sparkled like chocolate diamonds looked directly into hers. “At least let me have your dress cleaned. You are wearing it so well I would hate to be responsible for the destruction of such a masterpiece.” He shook his head and looked her over. “I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”

  She shrugged her shoulders and acted like she had a closet full of designer dresses. “It’s nothing.” She gave him her sexy voice and best smile. “As long as what’s in the dress is okay.” She looked up into his glistening eyes. “That’s all that matters.”

  Unique could tell that he was used to women flirting but he seemed to enjoy the sport and most of all, the prelude to what might be.

  His stare was hungry, like a lion that hadn’t eaten in a week staring at its prey. “From my vantage point, what’s in the dress is a whole lot better than okay, but I won’t take no for an answer.”

  Looking in his eyes, never showing that she was the least bit confused by what he meant, she asked, “No to what?”

  “Dinner? Breakfast? Lunch? New dress?” He turned his hands up toward the stars. “The sky’s the limit and I’m not hard to get along with, I just want to get to know you better.”

  Unique wasn’t looking for a quick fuck and was reluctant to accept what he was offering. Those days for her were over. She’d had enough of those to last her a couple of lifetimes. Although Kennard looked like he could really work it, she turned to Tyeedah.

  Tyeedah nodded and gave a look that translated to: Bitch, you better go with him.

  Unique did, and from that moment on, she and Kennard never left each other’s side. Nine months later, their love for each other seemed to grow deeper and deeper every day.

  And if anybody had ever doubted Kennard’s love for Unique, this day was the proof. Together, Tyeedah and Kennard waited in the room designated for family and friends. After about an hour of Kennard pacing the floor, two men in cheap suits and soft bottom, lace-up shoes walked in and approached him.

  The taller of the two offered Kennard his hand. “I’m Detective Jones,” he said with deference in his tone. “This is my partner, Detective McGeary. Sorry to have to meet like this, Mr. DuVall.” The empathy in his voice implied that he didn’t want to be there any more than Kennard did. “But we have a few questions that need to be asked.”

  Kennard’s red eyes held Detective Jones’s stare.

  Forging forward, Detective Jones pulled out a small pad. He checked his personal notes and said, “So you were the one that found Ms. Bryant in the bathroom?”

  Kennard nodded.

  Detective Jones waited a few beats to be sure Kennard didn’t want to elaborate further. Sometimes witnesses and suspects alike would run off at the mouth a mile a minute, unprompted, and sometimes they had to be coerced. “In your own words, can you tell me what happened, from the beginning?”

  Like most young black males that grew up in the hood, Kennard wasn’t a big fan of the police.

  “Do we have to do this now?” Tyeedah interjected.

  “Look, sir,” Detective Jones said, never acknowledging Tyeedah, “I know this is hard for you.”

  Detective Jones flipped his hands palms up in a gesture indicating that it didn’t matter to him either way, but said, “The quicker we get the information that we need, the quicker we can catch the perp.” Jones was a fourteen-year vet with the NYPD and knew how to handle these types of situations. “However,” he added, “based on my experience, it’s usually best to get this stuff out of the way as soon as possible. While the events are still fresh on the mind.”

  Kennard sucked in a deep, restorative breath, squared his shoulders, then exhaled. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s just get this over with. What is it that you need to know?”

  “Like I said,” said Jones, “I just need to hear your version of what took place.”

  Your version. Kennard didn’t appreciate the words Detective Jones chose to use or the tone in which he said them—as if there was more than one version. Kennard’s antenna instantly went up. He knew, from experience, that when something happened to a girlfriend or a spouse, the first person the police looked at was the man in the relationship. Nine years ago, when his baby mother was kidnapped and eventually killed, Kennard had been the main “person of interest” until he provided a plane ticket that put him on a flight back from Vegas at the time in question. Since physics dictated that it was impossible to be in two places at the same time, the police finally backed off.

  Not wanting his experiences then to affect the way he interacted with the police now, Kennard swallowed his disdain toward the NYPD’s prejudices and for the first time in his life, he shared with the detectives what little he did know. He started with the time he left the hotel room that morning, provided names of most of the people he met with, and how he ended up with some extra time and decided to spend it with his fiancée. “And that’s the way I found her,” he said, ending his account.

  Detective Jones wrote something down in his pad. “Was there anything—that you know of—missing from the room?”

  “I can’t say. I wasn’t thinking about that type of shit. I’d just found my fiancée lying on the fucking floor in a pool of fucking blood. Didn’t think to see if my tie pin was still where I left it.”

  Ignoring the sarcasm, Jones said he understood. “But can you tell me if there was anything of value in the room? Something someone would want to take?”

  The country was in a recession. What Bernie Madoff didn’t steal, people were spending on gas money and food. Of course there were things in the room that someone would steal. But Kennard didn’t think there was anything worth beating a wo
man and leaving her for dead over.

  He put his fist over his eyes, trying to knock the image of Unique’s battered body from the front of his mind so he could better cope. He said, “Maybe a couple of pieces of jewelry. Nothing serious enough to kill over.”

  Jones raised a brow as if he was a savant of criminal behavior. “You’d be surprised what people will kill for,” he said. “But that’s neither here nor there.” He seamlessly changed gears.

  “What makes you think the perp wanted her dead?” Jones obviously didn’t want an answer to that question because he went right on to the next. “Do you know of anyone that may have wanted to do Ms. Bryant harm?”

  “If I did,” Kennard said straight on, and without reservation, “I’d be already at their asses, not here wasting my time with you.” He was getting tired of the Q&A.

  “How about you, miss?”

  “You speaking to me?” Tyeedah said, surprised that Detective Jones had directed his line of questioning to her. Up until now he had acted as if she were invisible and not even in the room, which had been fine with her.

  “Yeah,” Jones said. “Do you know of anyone that may have wanted to hurt Ms. Bryant? Anybody at all?”

  Tyeedah thought about the question. She only knew of one person that fit the bill: Fat Tee. He had not only blackmailed and threatened Unique, he had raped her.

  “No, I don’t,” Tyeedah said to the detective.

  To link Fat Tee with the crime against Unique meant that Tyeedah would have to give some type of motive. To do so would implicate her and Unique’s involvement in a recent diamond heist. There was a time and place for everything, she believed, and here and now was neither.