Natalee's Revenge Read online

  Chapter One

  NATALEE

  I’m waiting outside Spyce’s house with a Glock in my lap.

  I watch as the arrogant bitch stands half dressed in front of the window of her third-floor apartment. She grips the bottom of her skin tight t-shirt and lifts it over her head, exposing two plump tits and a flat mid-section. Spyce is beautiful, with the body of a goddess.

  But Spyce is a junkie.

  Maybe that’s why she took the time to lure my naïve cousin, Raven, into her world of scamming and theft. Maybe that’s why she’s slept with 95% of her clientele for coke. It’s damn sure why she rushed me in the alley last week, tied me up and drove me to my house to rob me and my boyfriend, Troy.

  Now—Troy’s dead.

  And Raven’s locked up for his murder.

  And it’s all Spyce’s fault.

  So, the bitch has to die.

  I cut all the lights off in the car and kill the engine. If I’m going to do this shit, I have to be quick, agile and ready to dip at a moment’s notice.

  One false step, and I’ll be in the cell next to Raven.

  Or worse—dead.

  I ease my cocaine white Range Rover into the nearby alley, right next to Spyce’s building. I change out of my signature Jimmy Choo pumps and into a pair of Retro 12’s. Gripping the handle of the gun Troy left in his secret safe, behind the one Spyce just cleaned out, I quietly ease my car door open. I step onto the bricked alley walkway and creep toward the main road.

  There’s a hole in part of the chain link fence separating the building from the alley, so I duck down and crawl through.

  At 3am, it’s ghostly silent out tonight. I can almost feel Troy standing behind me, whispering in my ear, “Bae, she’s not worth this shit.”

  But I don’t listen.

  I back up, so I can get a clear shot of this bitch. Once the bullet pierces the window pane, and glass shatters everywhere, I have to be on my way back to the car.

  I raise the gun and aim for the bitch’s heart.

  Almost like she can sense I’m there, Spyce takes a step closer to the window. She’s swaying her hips, seductively, almost taunting me, like she’s saying, “come get me Natalee—if you can.”

  I cock the gun and Spyce tilts her head back and runs her fingers through her hair. She’s playing some weird ass music that probably sounds fire when you’re high as fuck.

  I’m just about to pull the trigger, when I hear a man’s voice float from the window. “Damn baby,” the rich baritone voice says. “Don’t keep me waiting. Come give Daddy what he’s been waiting on.”

  My eyes strain to see who else is in there with her. But all I can make out are the creamy legs of some dude—probably one of her tricks—sitting on the edge of her bed, with his legs gapped open and the largest penis I’ve ever seen standing at attention.

  It’s either now or never.

  My hands shake, as my brain tries to force my fingers to pull the trigger.

  I try. I really do.

  But—I can’t.

  I’m not a murderer.

  The second I put the gun back down at my side, the slut drops to her knees and swallows the man’s super dick whole. He leans forward in ecstasy, and that’s when I get a clear view of who the mother fucker is.

  It’s Vex, the owner of PlayBar, the high-end Club where I serve bottles in VIP. He looks out the window, our eyes connect, and I drop the gun to my side.

  Before he snitches to Spyce, I take off running back to my truck, hop in and peel off.

  Chapter Two

  RAVEN

  Remember when I told you some shit just ain’t fair?

  Well, somebody tell me, how bitches were kidnapped, jewels were snatched, and a motherfucker’s dead. But I’m in jail, having my insides scraped out with a wire hanger from the cellmate I barely know while the bitch who planned the heist in the first place is out walking the streets like shit’s all good?

  Real talk? Besides being right in the middle of this risky-ass prison abortion, the way I’m feeling these days, jail might be the best look for me. Here, shit is provided. Three hot’s and a cot and the struggle to survive just isn’t here.

  I would chill and let the government continue taking care of me for the rest of my days too—if, my daughter wasn’t out there somewhere waiting on me.

  “Tell me why you obsessed with getting your daughter back when you don’t even want the one you’re carrying?” my cellmate Queen asks, handing me a fresh hooch-soaked towel to bite on for the pain.

  “My daughter’s father Darnell and his bitch wife had some nerve snatching Kayla from up under me like that,” I explain, trying hard not to scream from the pain and catch the attention of one of the guards. I can’t risk the extra charges. “As soon as I beat this case, that bitch has an ass whipping coming to her.”

  Queen finally finishes her make-shift operation, by stuffing my underwear with my bedsheets. Then she sits on the edge of her bunk, lights up a cigarette, and gets back to mixing some shit she’s been messing with for a few days now, in the toilet. “Use the bathroom in the showers until I tell you it’s safe to use our pot again,” she tells me.

  You see what I mean? These bitches are straight up nasty in here. But at least I don’t have to worry about impressing none of them.

  “Ain’t you locked up for murder?” Queen asks, puffing a ring of smoke in the air. “Bitch, you ain’t never getting out of here.” She reaches her hand down deep in the toilet bowl and brings up some funky looking liquid inside a large clear baggy.

  I turn away from her then. One, because I don’t want to see whatever nasty shit she’s cooking up, and Two, I don’t have time for any negative vibes. She doesn’t think I know my chances of getting out are slim?

  But I have to keep hoping. Shit goes wrong in the system every day. Cases get thrown out on technicalities. Fraud. Payoffs, lazy ass judges. Shit, look what happened to me.

  I went to every parenting class, got my shit together. Did everything I could to get my daughter back and what happened?

  That stinking Judge Mays gave my daughter away to a deadbeat nigga and his bitch just because they have a little more money than me and can provide her a two-parent household and shit.”

  Which is why I know I shouldn’t hope for the best when I get put on the bus to court this morning. But I do anyway.

  But hours of sitting here, on these hard benches, waiting for my name to get called ends up pointless. Standing up there while the judge handed out nothing but a stank face and no chances?

  Waste of time.

  Just like Queen predicted, this judge is just like the last one I dealt with. “No bond,” she tells the court secretary, handing her my folder.

  I suck my teeth, wait for the guard to escort me back to my seat and slouch down real low until it’s time to go.

  **

  It’s dark out by the time I make it back to my cell. That means everybody’s in for the night. On lockdown, until they decide to let us out again. When I get back to my cell, I’m quiet as fuck, which catches Queen’s attention immediately. “That shit didn’t go how you thought, huh?” She asks from the edge of her bed.

  “Nah.” I keep the shit short. If this had been even a few months ago, I would’ve been ready to fight this burly ass joint for rubbing the shit in. But long hours sucking in stale air and even longer, quiet nights have managed to calm me down some. Either that, or I just don’t have much fight left in me anymore.

  Queen leans back on her bed. “So, what you going to do?”

  “It’s nothing I can do,” I tell her.

  “What if I had something for you to get into?” Queen asks, real slow like, like she’s been plotting on the best way to hand me my golden ticket since I left for co
urt this morning.

  I blow a breath, not really in the mood for nonsense right now.

  “Hooch,” she says tell.

  “Hooch?”

  “Yeah, illegal liquor. You’re going to need a good lawyer if you ever want to see your daughter again. I have a way for you to get the retainer money.”

  I side eye this strange joint I don’t even know like that. “What’s in it for you?” I ask.

  Queen shrugs from where she’s laying. “I need help making and moving product. Bitches love getting faded. Especially bitches on lockdown.”

  Chapter Three

  NATALEE

  Vex is doing his usual thing, the day I return to PlayBar, the club I worked at serving bottles in the VIP section, before all the shit went down between me, my cousin Raven and Spyce.

  Vex has all the bottle girls, waitresses, and hostesses gathered around the bar and he’s firing off directions and threats like this is the first time we’ve heard all this mess.

  “Our clientele is top shelf, just like our bottles,” he says. “Don’t fuck up and have them ordering that cheap shit. They try that sucker shit you remind them where they’re at. They can take that blue-collar shit down the street to one of them weak ass lounges with sticky shit all over the floor and birds walking around with stank breath.”

  Vex looked around the bar for the easiest employees to verbally assault. “Tasha and Rhoda? Y’all been slow as hell on the floor lately. Niggas are going to start taking their parched throats elsewhere waiting on y’all slow poke asses to bring them a sip of Moet or Dom.”

  Vex stomps over to the one of the hostesses. “Lexi, you the first face everyone sees when they walk in here, right?”

  Lexi nods real nervous like.

  “Then why the fuck do you have those spiders on your eyes? Either get the mink lashes or take your ass down to them clubs that only serve beer in plastic cups.”

  A few girls chuckle behind their hands while Lexi stands there looking at the floor.

  Vex walks around the bar, mean-mugging each girl, checking for hairs out of place, cheap- run over shoes and hot underarms. “As soon as you get an order, you fill that motherfucker fast. Keep the drinks flowing and your client’s dicks hard. The more these fools want you, the more they will spend.”

  Vex stops walking. He shoots me a weird look and I’m unsure if it’s because he knows I caught him with Spyce. Or if he remembers the barrel of my gun pointing directly at his dick. Whatever the case, Vex doesn’t look as confident as he normally does when he reaches between two bottle girls and slams his fist on the bar top. “Let’s make this money tonight. The girl who brings me the shortest stack is off the schedule for a month.”

  Everybody scurries away, but I take my time. Even with the time off, I’m a pro at this shit. I’m at the top of my game. I look good, I speak well, I smell delicious. I already know the money I bring in will bring a smile to Vex’s face at the end of the night.

  **

  Before I head up to my section, Vex grabs my arm. “Aye yo, Nat. About the other night—with Spyce—”

  I don’t miss a beat. “I mind my business, Vex. You know that.” I start walking toward the VIP section. Whatever, you two have going on is between you.”

  Vex nods real slow. “Ok, cool, cool.” He hesitates. “You good, Nat?” he asks. “You need anything?”

  Even before the shit outside of Spyce’s apartment, Vex always had a soft spot for me. I never had to worry about him treating me less than human, like the rest of the girls, because I work hard, bring him hella money and keep to myself. So, I’m not surprised he’s checking on me and looking out. But I’m not about to have him thinking I’m weak, no matter how much Troy’s death is killing me inside.

  “I got this Vex,” I tell him. And I do. No matter how I’m feeling inside, I’m ready to lace up my combat boots, rock this freak-um dress and get paid royally tonight.

  **

  I start out with a bang. My first clients, a group of basketball players, orders four bottles off top. I gather up a few of the junior bottle girls and we lose our minds, screaming our heads off and acting like these niggas just cured cancer or some shit.

  But that’s what you have to do, if you want them to keep running that tab up. We run to the back, grab up four huge sparklers, attach one to each bottle and come out in a neat little titty popping, ass jiggling line, holding the bottles high above our heads and blowing kisses with our free hands.

  We set the bottles down in the middle of the table, blow out the sparklers and pour drinks like experts. No foam, no spillovers.

  When my ball players are nice and settled, I move on to the next table in my section and repeat the process.

  **

  Everything’s going smooth. People are trickling in and heading straight for the dance floor. The VIP’s get escorted to the section of their choice, but the DJ is so hot right now, they can’t help leaning over the thick purple ropes, holding their glasses in the air and toasting to a good night.

  Before I know it, the place is packed. The hostess, Lexi brings a group of dudes my way and I recognize one from the new action flick that just came out. However, not every member of his entourage belongs behind the velvet ropes.

  “Excuse you,” I tell the one with them busted down J’s from three years ago. “Who let you in here, with that shit on your feet?”

  His boys cup their mouths and hoot and holler at how stuck his face looks right now. And the humiliation must have set him off, because before I know it, he’s charging me and pushing my back against the black and gold partitions that divide me and my girl Tomi’s section.

  “Ay yo, who the fuck you think you talking to?” he says, jabbing his finger against my temple.

  His boys pipe down and one of them comes over to grab his arm. “Yo, Dave, calm down, my dude. You talking to a female—”

  “Naw, I’m talking to some chicken headed bitch with too much mouth.” He grabs my arm, and I try to yank away, but he’s holding on too tight.

  “Hold the fuck up.” Tomi steps her amazon legs out of her section and over to mine in two steps.

  She adjusts the mask on her face and steps right behind ol’ boy like she’s ready for beef if he wants to start shit.

  Unlike the rest of these fake hoes, I actually fucks with Tomi. She stays out of trouble for the most part. She’s not into flexing on anyone or trying to prove herself to nobody. Any aggression my girl Tomi has she takes it out on these dudes in V.I.P.

  Pulling her cattail nine-inch whip from her waist, Tomi grips the leather handle and lashes the whip across the nigga’s ass. “You sure you want to keep your hands wrapped around my girl Natalee’s throat like that?” she asks loudly.

  The dude yelps loud, releases my throat and grabs his ass with both hands. I run to get security while Tomi stomps around my section cracking her whip.

  “If Miss Tomi has to get involved in some shit, you know it’s about to be a problem up in here.”

  Crack.

  “Y’all motherfuckers must have slipped up and lost them manners your mamas taught you.”

  Crack.

  “But for all those who don’t know how to act in V.I.P.—

  Crack.

  “Miss Tomi has something for that ass.”

  Crack-crack.

  Security rushes the section, grabs the dude up by his collar and drags him down to the side entrance where the night crew empties out the garbage.

  The other dudes, blown that their friend just ruined their night, quickly grab up their things and start following security out the side door.

  The actor dude drags his feet a little and hangs back while I start fluffing the pillows up on the couch to get the section ready for the next group.

  “My boy was out of line,” he says behind me.

  I straighten a pillow on the couch. “It’s cool. Once he sleeps off the alcohol, he’s going to wake up tomorrow feeling like an ass.”

  When I turn around to head to
another table in my section, the actor is standing right up on me. “Can I help you?” I ask him.

  He smiles this sexy ass smile and sucks his teeth a little. “I like the way you handled yourself with class,” he says, “I would love to get to know you more. Call me sometime.” He holds out his card.

  I politely take it from him, but once he walks out to find his boys, I rip it up.

  I don’t care that the actor is probably worth millions, I’m still hurting over my man. And I’m just not ready to replace Troy yet. My heart is still too torn up.

  **

  “You been alright, girl?” Tomi asks, when we meet up again in the bottle room. She reaches out and gives me a hug. “I’ve been leaving you texts and voicemails and shit—”

  “My bad girl,” I tell her, hugging her back. “I just haven’t felt like talking to anybody since everything went down.”

  When Tomi takes her mask off her face for a quick breather, I get a good look at the dark circles and bags under her eyes. “Yo, are you okay, Tomi?”

  Tomi slips her mask back over her eyes and turns away. “Shits getting hard with my man, King still locked down.” She wipes a tear from her eye. “I thought he would be out by now. These bills are really stacking up.”

  I feel her on that shit. Ever since Troy’s death, I haven’t been able to just blow my money like I used to. Every single dollar has to pay for something I always counted on my man to cover, which is why I brought my ass back to work early in the first place. “Things will get better, soon, Tomi,” I tell her.

  “Will it?” she asks, right as a loud sound comes from the doorway.

  We both turn and look as Spyce comes stumbling through the door, drunk off her ass, high, or both. Tomi frowns up first. “How the fuck she ain’t sitting in jail right now?” she asks, keeping her voice low.

  I toss a few bottles on my drink cart and shake my head. This is my first time bumping into Spyce since I almost put a bullet in her and having her energy around me just isn’t sitting right in my soul. “She wasn’t nowhere around when the cops got there.” I slam a bottle of Hennessey down with the other bottles.