Tastes Like Chicken Read online

  “It’s by the grace of God I didn’t kill that bitch,” Tyrone said.

  “We’re taking that equipment back.”

  “What equipment?”

  “Everything you bought from the Spy Stop. You’re the wrong person for this kind of stuff. It’s going to be difficult enough keeping you from killing her with just the little bit of info you have right now.”

  “She’s dead, Trini,” he said. “I’m telling you, the little yellow bitch is dead.”

  “You’re yellow too, Tyrone, so stop throwing stones. You and your wife need to talk soon and get to the truth. Before everything you’ve got—your firm, your nice big boat, your mansion, and the rest of your life—goes straight to shit.”

  Toyz ’N Da Hood

  “The 405 sucks.”

  “Welcome to L.A.,” Sleazy said. “The fact that it’s raining only makes it worse.”

  Reesy was stuck in gridlock just past the Mulholland and Skirball exit. She was antsy as she talked on her cell phone, excited about getting to her first real audition. Rowena had told her it was open casting, which was good, because she hadn’t done any head shots yet.

  “So where is it?” he asked.

  “Stop making me think,” she said. “I’m already keyed up. What are you doing up so early anyway?”

  It was just 9:15. Reesy had made a mental note to call her parents later that day and tell them about her relocation. It hadn’t been two weeks, but she figured it would be better to let them know before they happened upon her disconnected phone.

  “I’ve gotta help my friends Chloe and Zoe move,” Sleazy said.

  “Chloe and Zoe?” Reesy said, stressing over the inching traffic. “You and your women, I swear.”

  “Yeah,” Sleazy said. “Those girls are wild. They’re the ones that had the party the other night.”

  “And now they’re moving? What was it, a farewell bash?”

  She blared her horn.

  “Hey, hey, mami,” Sleazy said. “We don’t do that here. You’ll get a ticket. Or shot. Relax.”

  “I can’t relax. I’m gonna miss this audition.”

  “You’ll be fine.”

  “Whatever. So your friends had a farewell party last night?”

  “Well,” Sleazy said, “it wasn’t intended to be. Apparently the beach house they live in belongs to their cousin. He popped into town outta nowhere the other day and told them they couldn’t throw any more wild parties. Well, these slicksters got him drunk and had a party anyway, so he’s throwing them out.”

  “That’s different,” Reesy said, nudging her car forward. “I’m surprised a guy wouldn’t be down for the kind of party you said it was going to be. Porn stars and all that. I thought that was every man’s dream. He must be older.”

  “Nah. This Dandre cat is young. Can’t be more than thirty-three, thirty-four. Good-looking guy, the kind chicks sweat and shit. I was surprised he wasn’t down for some action.”

  Reesy stared at the bumper of the car in front of her. Everything around her seemed to stand still. She didn’t speak. She couldn’t.

  “Yo, mami, you there?” Sleazy asked. “Did I lose you?” He could still hear feedback from cars going by, so he wasn’t sure if the call had dropped. “Mami? Reesy? Hey, you still on the line?”

  “Their cousin’s name is Dandre?” she said.

  “Yeah. I’m pretty sure that was his name.”

  She nibbled at the nail on her left forefinger.

  “That’s my ex,” she said. “I can’t believe your friends are related to my ex.”

  “Oh shit,” said Sleazy. “Gitdafugout.”

  “So you’ve seen him.”

  “Well…yeah,” he said, his voice riddled with disbelief.

  She was already anxious. Now her nerves kicked into high gear.

  “Maybe we should talk about this after you finish your audition,” Sleazy said. “I don’t want you going in there with your cap all twisted.”

  “I’m fine,” she lied. “Just tell me what you saw.”

  Sleazy let out a deep breath.

  “I don’t know, mami. He seemed like a nice guy. He definitely wasn’t trying to be down with any of the extra shit that’s been happening in the house. Zoe and Chloe said he used to be into that kind of thing. I know if it was me, I would have been on everything in the room with titties. That’s exactly what I was doing, as a matter of fact.”

  Sleazy decided he wouldn’t tell her about the incident with the Tonies. According to the twins, Dandre hadn’t been down for it and that was the main reason they were being kicked out.

  “You might wanna rethink things,” he said. “I don’t think this cat is one of us.”

  The traffic began to move. Despite Sleazy’s words of encouragement, Reesy’s nerves were frantic as she maneuvered Black between lanes. She was still unable to process this less-than-six-degrees-of-absurdity moment.

  “What do you mean by ‘one of us’?” she asked.

  “Pimptastic. Dickalicious. A part of the chosen few. He might have been once, but his card’s been pulled. Or handed in. Damn. Now that’s some tragic shit. That would make you a player slayer.”

  “Well, he’s not getting another chance, if that’s what you’re suggesting. We’re over.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Yeah. Just like that.”

  “Meanwhile,” Sleazy said, “he’s sitting over there in that fabulous beach house all folded up on himself. You crushed that nigga like a cookie. That’s cold, mami.”

  She drove in silence, looking for the 101 Freeway. A sign said it was a couple of miles ahead.

  “Can I ask you a personal question?” Sleazy ventured.

  “I don’t know. Depends on what it is. Dammit, drive,” she snapped at the driver ahead of her.

  “It’s pretty much a yes-or-no question.”

  “So go then.”

  “Did your boy cheat on you? Is that why you broke out?”

  Reesy steered Black into the far right lane, squeezing in between cars that were trying either to get off onto Ventura Boulevard or merge onto the 101.

  “Hello?” Sleazy said. “Hello? Hello?” She didn’t respond.

  “Ree-see, is you wit’ me?” he sang.

  She merged onto the 101 in the direction of Ventura.

  “Did he cheat on you?” he asked again.

  She still didn’t answer.

  “Okay,” he said, taking her silence for a no. “If that wasn’t the problem, why’d you break out? Make this shit make sense to me.”

  “The problem was everybody saw pictures of him in a three-some on the day we were supposed to be married. Is that problem enough?”

  Sleazy was wandering around his apartment in a robe. The remark made him sit on the couch.

  “Damn,” he said, his voice low. “He had a threesome the day you were supposed to get married?”

  “No,” she said. “Everybody in the church saw pictures of the threesome.”

  “So when did the threesome happen, at the bachelor party?”

  “No. They were supposedly old, but anything’s possible.”

  She exited on Reseda and took a right, speeding down the street.

  Sleazy leaned back on the couch, considering what she had said.

  “So you basically left him because you felt you were publicly embarrassed?”

  “That, and other things.”

  “But nothing to do with believing he didn’t love you, right?”

  “No.” The ring glinted at her as she gripped the wheel.

  “I don’t know, mami. This seems kinda murky. Some vindictive trick probably handed those pictures out at the wedding.”

  “Actually, it was a woman dressed in all black and a veil.”

  “See? There you go. I mean, c’mon. If a guy used to be a big-time player and suddenly hung up his hat because he found the One, well, discarded chicks don’t take that too well. They like having the last say. Sort of like, if they can’t be happy, then no
body’s gonna be happy, especially the woman the man chooses.”

  “He should have had that under control,” she said, glancing at the directions she had written on a notepad. “The repercussions were bad. Really bad.”

  “How can he control someone outside himself?” Sleazy said.

  “He couldn’t stop you from leaving, could he? So why would he be able to tell some bitter bitch what to do? Who knows? It could be somebody he hadn’t messed with in years and the woman just never got over him.”

  “I doubt it.”

  She didn’t mention the woman’s recent appearance on Dandre’s doorstep.

  “Trust me, I’m a man and I’m a player.”

  “Why would you brag about that?” she said, turning right onto Victory. “I’ll never understand why grown-ass men consider it a badge of honor that they play with people’s feelings.”

  “Don’t hate, mami,” said Sleazy. “These girls know what they’re getting into. It’s a game. They should stop deluding themselves. Women know a player when they see one. If they decide to participate, then what happens is on them.”

  Reesy was quiet as she searched for the address.

  “I’ve seen some evil women in my day.” Sleazy put his feet on the table in front of him. “They’re all honey, sugar, daisies, and shit as long as they’ve got your attention, but the minute you move on, it’s a crapshoot what can happen. I’ve had women scale buildings and break into my place, hold me at gunpoint, you name it. A SWAT team was called in to stop this one girl. She was strapped with explosives. The shit was sick.”

  “Why does it sound to me like you really love all this drama?”

  Sleazy smiled.

  “I dunno, mami. Maybe it’s because in a twisted way I do.”

  “I gotta go.”

  “Good luck,” he said. “Don’t end up on no scratchy casting couch.”

  Reesy pulled into the strip mall, thinking she was late. She was surprised to see hordes of women of all shapes and sizes spilling out of the front door of one of the businesses. She’d heard of open castings, but she didn’t expect this.

  So what, she thought as she got out of Black. She knew how to handle competition, so that didn’t scare her. What was a concern was the throng. Reesy hated waiting, and she didn’t know what to expect with this process. The audition for Black Barry’s Pie hadn’t been as hectic as this. But that was for off-Broadway. This was Hollywood and the chance to be on film.

  Two hours later, it was her turn.

  She walked into a stale, empty room. Three people were sitting at a table facing her, one woman and two men. Another man was operating a minicam on a tripod.

  The woman was small and brown with small eyes and a small Afro. The guy to the left of her was just as small with the same features. Reesy assumed they were brother and sister.

  The other person was the real surprise. It was the guy from the club the night she went out with Sleazy. The cutie who’d been giving her the eye from across the room.

  “Teresa Snowden?” he asked, glancing up from the sheet in front of him. There was a glint of recognition in his eye, but his face revealed nothing.

  His voice was bottom—a deep, dense, syrupy thing that oozed over her and made her feel sticky. Good sticky, not bad.

  “Yes.”

  “What’s your favorite food?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “Your favorite food? What is it?”

  He leaned forward, his eyes piercing through her. The hairs on Reesy’s body rose beneath the heat of his gaze. She wondered if he was kidding, then remembered the audition experience of Black Barry’s Pie. It too had been deceptive. What she thought was going on had not been the reality of the moment.

  Go with the flow, she thought. She figured he’d done this to everyone. She was going to show them that she was a sport.

  “Fried chicken.”

  “Show me.”

  “What?”

  “Act like some fried chicken,” he said.

  Reesy’s eyes lingered on his. The rich black pupils twinkled and danced. She looked at the brother/sister act beside him. They sat with pens poised, pads positioned, ready to capture the moment. The man with the minicam zoomed in on her.

  Without further prompting, she dropped to the floor and rolled herself from side to side. She was wearing a tight black turtleneck, a short black skirt, and black boots. She didn’t care if they could see her panties and peeper beneath the skirt. It wasn’t like her peeper hadn’t been peeped before. She rolled and rolled and rolled and rolled.

  She jumped up and shook herself off, throwing the best her fluid body had to offer into the act. She dropped to the floor again and made sizzling noises, writhing like a frenzied inchworm.

  The brother/sister act couldn’t contain their laughter. The cam eraman wore a broad grin, trying to catch it all on tape. The cutie watched with an unreadable face—except for his eyes. They danced with delight, impressed by Reesy’s enthusiasm and vigor.

  She stood and brushed her skirt down. She swept the dust from her clothes.

  The brother/sister act and the cameraman applauded.

  “That was good,” said the cutie with his nouveau–Barry White timbre. “I’m assuming you floured yourself, then hopped in the pan.”

  Reesy smiled.

  “Clever,” he said. “Very clever.”

  “Thank you.”

  Their eyes lingered. He pressed his lips together as if he was thinking. He rubbed his trimmed beard and jotted some notes on his pad.

  “Is that it?” Reesy asked, preparing to go.

  “No,” said the cutie. His mouth widened into a fabulous smile. “Now show us a biscuit.”

  She was back on the 405 South just passing Wilshire when her cell phone rang. It was an 818 number.

  “Hello?”

  “Well, hello,” the deep voice said.

  Reesy’s skin tingled.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi there.”

  Neither of them spoke for about five seconds, then they both began to babble at once.

  “That was different.”

  “You’re good.”

  They laughed. Hers was a provocative sound. His was a thick gumbo that gurgled and stirred her pot.

  “So we’re breaking for the day,” he said. “I’m about to grab some lunch. Are you still in the Valley?”

  “I’m not too far,” replied Reesy.

  “You like Cuban food?”

  “I love it,” she said.

  “So why don’t you meet me at Versailles in Encino. It’s right on Ventura.”

  “I don’t know where Encino is,” she said. “I’m new here.”

  “Really? From where?”

  “New York.”

  “I’m from BK,” he said.

  “Really?”

  “Really. I’m a Brooklyn son.”

  She smiled. That explained some of his sexy vibe.

  “If I tell you how to get to the restaurant, can you meet me for lunch?”

  “Is this a callback?” she asked.

  “Oh yes,” he answered in that malt liquor–smooth voice.

  “Most definitely. This is definitely a callback.”

  He was already at the table when Reesy arrived. He stood when she walked over. He was tall, about six feet three inches of beautiful meat. He smiled as he watched her. His teeth were dazzling.

  Damn, she thought.

  He held a chair out for her. She sat down and he took the seat across from her.

  “Thanks for coming,” he said.

  “Thanks for calling. Today was my first Hollywood audition and now I’m having my first Hollywood callback,” Reesy said.

  “That’s pretty rare in this town. It calls for a toast.” He signaled for the waiter.

  Reesy glanced around.

  “Where are your partners?”

  “They’re off checking out a location we’re considering. They’re associate producers. I’m the big chief.”

 
; “The big chief?” she asked.

  He laughed.

  “I wrote the script, and I’m the director and executive producer.”

  “I guess that’s pretty big,” she said.

  “Yeah. Troy and Ray just sat in on the initial auditions, but I’m handling all the callbacks myself.”

  “I’m assuming Troy’s the girl.”

  “No,” he said. “The girl is Ray.”

  The waiter was at their table.

  “We’d like to order a drink,” said the big chief.

  “Just water for me,” Reesy said.

  “We can’t toast with water.” He looked at the waiter. “Bring us a couple of mojitos, please. We’ll be ready to order when you bring back the drinks.”

  “Of course.” The waiter nodded and left.

  “Didn’t I see you the other night at the comedy club?” Reesy asked.

  “I don’t know,” he said with a mischievous smile.

  “Right.”

  “Yeah,” he admitted. “I was there. Imagine how surprised I was when I saw you walk into the audition.”

  “Good surprised?”

  “Most definitely,” he said.

  “So I never got your name.”

  “It’s James,” he said, extending a massive right paw. “James Rivers.”

  She reached out her left hand to shake his. There was a tangible jolt of energy as flesh met flesh. He glanced down at the ring on her finger. It sat between them like a sentinel pit bull.

  “Aha,” said James. “So we’re married.”

  “Not married.”

  “Engaged.”

  “Not engaged.”

  “Fakin’ the funk.”

  “Too fat to get the ring off.”

  “I would never call you fat.”

  She pulled her hand away.

  “So we were once engaged?”

  “So what’s up with the royal ‘we’?”

  “Touché,” James said with a laugh.

  The waiter arrived with the mojitos. “Are you ready to order?” he asked.

  James looked at Reesy. “Perhaps you should check the menu. I always have the same thing.”

  “No,” she said. “I know what I want. The pollo asado.” It was her favorite Cuban dish.