The Pink Panther Clique Read online

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  The Pink Panther Clique

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter: 1 Milla

  Chapter 2: Sunny-SolÉ

  Chapter 3: Eshe

  Chapter 4: Milla

  Chapter 5: Sunny-SolÉ

  Chapter 6: Eshe

  Chapter 7: Milla

  Chapter 8: Sunny-SolÉ

  Chapter 9: Eshe

  Chapter 10: Milla

  Chapter 11: Sunny-SolÉ

  Chapter 12: Eshe

  Chapter 13: MILLA

  Chapter 14: Sunny-SolÉ

  Chapter 15: Eshe

  Chapter 16: Milla

  Chapter 17: Sunny-SolÉ

  Chapter 18: Eshe

  Chapter 19: Milla

  Chapter 20: Sunny-SolÉ

  Chapter 21: Eshe

  Chapter 22: Milla

  Chapter 23: Sunny-SolÉ

  Chapter 24: Eshe

  Chapter 25: Milla

  Chapter 26: Sunny-SolÉ

  Chapter 27: Eshe

  Chapter 28: Milla

  Chapter 29: Sunny-SolÉ

  Chapter 30: Eshe

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  About the Author

  About the Author

  WAHIDA CLARK PRESENTS

  The Pink Panther Clique

  Sunshine Smith-Williams

  Jamila T. Davis

  Aisha Hall

  with

  Wahida Clark

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.

  Wahida Clark Presents Publishing

  60 Evergreen Place

  Suite 904A

  East Orange, New Jersey 07018

  1(866)-910-6920

  www.wclarkpublishing.com

  Copyright 2017 © by Aisha Hall, Sunshine Smith-Williams, Jamila T. Davis with Wahida Clark

  All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-In-Publication Data:

  Aisha Hall, Sunshine Smith-Williams, Jamila T. Davis

  Pink Panther Clique Preview

  ISBN 13-digit 978-1936649556 (paperback)

  ISBN 13-digit 978-1936649730 (ebook)

  ISBN 13-digit: 978-1936649709 (Hardback)

  LCCN: 2017904236

  1. New York, NY - 2. Money Laundering 3. Hip Hop- 4. African American-Fiction- 5. Music Industry- 6. Federal Prisoners-

  Cover design and layout by Nuance Art, LLC

  Book design by [email protected]

  Cover photo by: Tina Shrivers

  Cover model: Stefanie Auree

  Edited by Linda Wilson

  Proofreader Alanna Boutin

  Printed in USA

  Dedication

  * * *

  To everyone locked up in the United States and abroad . . .

  Keep your head up! We feel your pain.

  Prologue

  * * *

  She swallowed a basketball. Her big, pregnant belly protruded, giving off that impression.

  “There’s no way she should still be pregnant. She looks like she’s about to drop that load any day now,” Sun-Solé, a short, voluptuous, caramel-toned woman with long, straight hair said.

  “Shhh. Girl, they’re going to hear us. Just keep mopping,” Eshe warned. She was a tall, chinky-eyed, brown-skinned girl with a strong New York swagger.

  “I can’t believe y’all got me down here,” Milla said. She was a bright-eyed, almond-toned diva who, even in prison, kept her clothes crisp and her makeup on fleek.

  The three women watched from a distance as the pregnant girl wobbled to her seat in the visiting room. They pretended to be cleaning, but they were there for a completely different reason. Sun-Solé was the main one who insisted they volunteer as prison orderlies today, because she could smell drama in the air.

  “I’m telling y’all,” Sun-Solé said, “I heard Prego on the phone. Baby daddy is coming today. Shit’s gonna hit the fan, word to mutha.”

  Milla rolled her eyes at Sun-Solé. She found it funny to see her prison sister with a mop in her hand because, on the contrary, Sun-Solé was a grown-ass princess. Milla knew how her girl truly lived. Maids and assistants did everything at her home, and she never lifted a finger. Sun-Solé’s domestic act had Milla chuckling to herself. Those who only knew her in prison would assume Sun-Solé was a regular Suzy Homemaker who took every cleaning job the prison offered. Anything to get her off the cell block and onto Gossip Street. Sun-Solé cleaned every place from the warden’s office to the guards’ locker room. Then she’d report all that was going on in the prison to Eshe and Milla. She even knew what was happening in the men’s facility. But that was an entirely different story.

  Sun-Solé, Eshe, and Milla’s eyes were like three sharp surveillance cameras, recording every moment, each of them looking on for various reasons. Sun-Solé was the entertainer. She thought everything was a movie, but instead of it being on the big-screen, she watched things play out in real time. Life was one big reality show to her. She took in the whole scene of Prego with her baby daddy and got high from the action of it all.

  Milla watched because she wanted to write about every single injustice that was done to each woman in the prison system. She wanted to tear it down, brick by brick, one story at a time, and end mass incarceration once and for all. She hated the American so-called criminal justice system with a passion because it destroyed families. Specifically, women.

  Eshe was extremely unconventional. The female corporate thug, a walking almanac who could probably tell you what the weather was like on any given day in the sixth century. The pragmatic one of the group, Eshe moved when driven by logic only and tried to intervene in situations where she could be of help by adding her opinion. Sometimes, it worked; other times, she had to get a bit ratchet and remind chicks where she was from. Eshe got along with everyone, for the most part, but would buck on the guards at any moment.

  All of the ladies were from New York, and they moved with a different swag. They observed Prego on the DL, to see how she would get out of the situation. Prego was just a nickname for the pregnant girl whom they’d been observing. Prego’s boyfriend stared her down with a confused look.

  “This doesn’t feel right. You denied my visits all this time. This shouldn’t be the first time I’m seeing you. You won’t call me. I’m starting to lose my mind. And look at you; you’re as big as a house. This doesn’t add up. How can you possibly still be pregnant?”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “You’ve been locked up for ten months and two weeks. You found out you were pregnant before you got here. What the hell is going on? I mean, you need to see a specialist—something! You’re going to explode. This shit ain’t normal,” Prego’s boyfriend said.

  “There’s something I need to tell you.” Prego did not look at her man. She stared at the floor as if looking for a quick escape. But there was no escaping reality. At least, not for the ladies in Danbury Federal Prison.

  “Well, what is it, baby? It’s bad enough you’re in here carrying my first child. Is there some type of medical condition I need to know about?” he asked, raising his hands and shaking his head. His perplexed expression caused all three spies to immediately label him as stupid. It didn’t matter that he was an attorney. He was a plain ol’ dumb ass.

  “Visitation is over!” the officer yelled out. “Emergency lockdown. I repeat, visitation is over.”

  “Awww, shit,” one of the
spies whispered. “Damn. It’s about to go down. Lieutenant Longwood is walking toward them. Look, girl!” Sun-Solé was so excited to see what was about to unfold. Milla was ready to go, and Eshe was in protection mode.

  Lieutenant Longwood stepped in front of Prego and her man. “Do you all not hear well? Visitation is over.”

  “As far as I know, according to policy, visits trump all other prison matters. I’m an attorney. I’m seeing my pregnant fiancée for the first time in months. Can you just give us a minute?” Prego still looked at the floor.

  “I don’t care what you do, but her . . . She is going back to her unit, now!” Then he did the unthinkable: he grabbed Prego by her arm and lifted her from her seat. Then he whispered something in her ear. A tear fell from her eye.

  “Hey, don’t put your hands on her like that. Man, are you crazy?” Prego’s baby daddy said. Lieutenant Longwood released her arm and folded his own arms across his chest.

  “You got one minute!”

  “Baby, does this man do this often? I am going to file a complaint,” he said in a low tone.

  “Don’t bother. I’m stuck here. They do what they want.”

  “Time’s up!” Longwood stated.

  “Can I at least give her a kiss? Damn!”

  “Hell, no!” he said. “As a matter of fact, Inmate Gaines, don’t you have something to tell this clown?”

  “Clown? Man, what the fuck is your issue?”

  “Not now, Longwood. I’ll tell him next time,” Prego said.

  “Next time? There won’t be a next time. You need to let him know, or I will. Today is my last day here, so it needs to be done.” She nodded and another tear fell from her eye.

  “Okay, I’m gonna just come out and say it.”

  “Say what?” Baby Daddy asked.

  “I’m with Lieutenant Longwood. This is his baby, not yours.” Milla, Eshe, and Sun-Solé’s mouths dropped open.

  “This shit ain’t right!” Eshe whispered.

  “Well, what the hell are we supposed to do?” Milla added.

  “Nothing. What can we do?” Sun-Solé said. By this time, none of them were even pretending to clean. They were just watching. The visiting room was damn near empty, so there was nobody else around to see what was going down.

  It was only for a second that they’d looked at each other to speak, but a second was all it took for chaos to break out. By the time they looked back at the love triangle, Baby Daddy was swinging at Lieutenant Longwood. He snuffed the homie.

  Crack!

  Longwood’s jaw fractured. At least that’s what it sounded like. Longwood removed his flashlight and caught Baby Daddy in the head. He fell backward. An alarm sounded, and correction officers were every-damn-where. They were pulling Longwood off of Baby Daddy, and another group had pushed the spies to the corner.

  Then suddenly there was a piercing cry. “My stomach!” Prego called out. “Oh God! I think my water broke!” The fight was broken up, and medical workers were paged. Milla, Eshe, and Sun-Solé broke through the human barricade of guards who were guarding them in the corner and ran to Prego.

  “It’s going to be all right,” Eshe said, sitting Prego onto the floor.

  “No, it’s not,” she whispered. “This baby ain’t neither one of theirs!”

  “What! Who’s the father?” Eshe asked.

  More guards arrived in the visiting room, and they ordered the three spies to get up against the wall so they could be cuffed and taken back to their unit. Sun-Solé was ear hustling. Her hearing was on high alert like a bunny’s ears. But nobody heard anything because there was too much noise and chaos. There was blood everywhere from both Lieutenant Longwood and Baby Daddy. Eshe turned around one last time to look at Prego, and she quickly mouthed one name to her. A name they all knew.

  Nahhhhh. It can’t be! The scandal was deeper than anyone could have ever imagined, and shit was about to hit the fan!

  Chapter 1

  Milla

  * * *

  ♫ You the only one I love (uh-huh)/The only man I know that I can trust (yup)/And if I ever should need you, I know you’ll come (yeah) ready to kill with a smoking gun (with a smoking gun). ♫

  I sang passionately to Jadakiss’s song “Smoking Gun.” The words made me think about love and how it used to feel. But at this very moment, the most important thing on my mind was money. I put L. Boogie, Jill Scott, and Adele on rotation to keep me in my zone. Until my office phone rang and interrupted me. After five rings, I picked up. My boss’s extension showed on the display in big, black digital numbers.

  “Yes, Mr. Darding,” I answered.

  “Ms. Davison, I need to see you in my office . . . pronto!”

  “Sure thing.” I hung up and sat there awhile. Although he was my boss, I wasn’t the type of employee who asked how high when a higher-up told me to jump. After I was good and ready, I turned my music off and got into professional mode. Professional mode was something that came natural to me, but so did my street persona.

  By the way, my name is Jamila Davison, but I go by the name of Milla. I work for Standard American Bank, also known as SAB, one of the largest banks in the country. Currently, I’m a loan agent, and I’ve got the best track record in our district. I close millions of dollars’ worth of loans every single month, and my numbers are steadily increasing. In other words, I’m a beast when it comes to finance. But once I left the office and got into the comfort of my whip, I opened my ashtray, lit up some bud, and blasted Jadakiss. I knew how to turn it on and off. It was a survival mechanism that I’d learned over the years while growing up in Queens. I am who I am, a true black woman who loves her culture. I could pick up a mic and spit a verse with the dudes I grew up with, or I could pick up a mic and sell our bank’s latest loan products to a crowd of investors. Because I was equipped with a skill set that allowed me to indulge in the best of both worlds, I was a true chameleon. I grew up not missing a beat in the streets, but also staying on top of my schooling. I was sure my persona would take me far, and I would soon find out just how far once I walked into Mr. Darding’s office.

  “Ms. Davison. How are you?” he said upon me entering.

  “I’m fine. How about you, sir?” I replied, shaking his hand.

  “Good, good. Have a seat.” I sat my well-rounded booty in the comfort of the black leather chair in front of his desk. He adjusted his seat so he could keep an eye on my legs. And like a salivating dog, he licked his lips as I crossed one leg over the other. Men. So damn predictable. It took everything in me to not burst out laughing. Darding was about fifty-five years old, partially bald, with an oversized gut. I didn’t give a damn how much money he had; I would never bounce up and down on his lap. Never. Ugh! But still, I smiled, anxious to know what he wanted from me.

  “Is everything all right? I see that you wanted me to come here right away. I can’t say I’m not nervous. Being called into the principal’s office is not always a good thing.” He laughed.

  “Milla. May I call you Milla?”

  “Sure. I prefer it actually. We’re all family here at SAB.” I threw on the charm, but I wished he would get to the damn point.

  “Well, you’re here because today is a very special day for you. There’s something we noticed about you.”

  I cleared my throat. “Like what?”

  “Most of the clients whom you’ve been giving loans to are rappers and other famous African Americans. Also, you’ve been bringing in other individuals who are . . . ummm, let’s just say, not the typical clients we see come into our bank. Or any bank for that matter.” He chuckled at his own joke. I did not. Then I started to think about this impromptu meeting . . . Awww, shit. If he’s going to fire me, he needs to just get to it and stop horsing around. I put a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into this bank. Hell, I brought in new business however I could. So if they’re trying to get rid of me, I got a few choice words for his ass!

  So here is the raw truth about how I played the banking game: I just happe
ned to see an opportunity with these celebrities and wanted to help them while helping myself. I had to pull teeth sometimes to get them approved for loans. I even had to tell little white lies sometimes because a lot of them didn’t have tax returns or had cash businesses. But what I did was still good. Helping guys with new record deals get their first Bentley, Maybach, Rolls-Royce, or Lamborghini. Taking dope boys from the projects to gated communities. So what, I made up pay stubs. They paid their bills, and that was all that mattered. I was making the bank lots of money because all my people paid their loans back. They better had, or else they would have to deal with me personally. I figured I would sell myself before he gave me the bad news. You know, try to save face.

  “I just spoke with Jadakiss. He’s a famous rapper right here in New York, and he was approved for a $2 million mortgage not too long ago. I got him to put a million down, so he’s well invested. I can tell you, I know him personally, and he will not only pay, but pay early. And Zab Judah, five-time champion boxer, he just paid off a $3.5 million loan that I worked very hard to get for him. I know my methods were a little nontraditional, but my goal is to make this bank #1 in the world. The world, sir. No other bank could do it, but I got it done. If there is something wrong with the—” He interrupted me.

  “No, there is nothing wrong. Actually, we think what you’re doing is great. You’re bringing in some unusual characters, yes, and it’s making the bank a lot of money. There is some good news that recently came down the pipeline.” He leaned in closer from his side of the desk. “We want to promote you. We want you to bring more of your, uh, your people into our establishment. It’s a win-win situation for all of us.” He got up and closed his office door, then sat back down and talked in a hushed tone.

  “I know a lot of these rapper characters don’t have good credit, Milla. We also noticed you seem to know a lot of . . .”—now he went into an all-out whisper—“drug dealers and street guys. But they still have plenty of money, and we can still sell houses to these people. We just need you and your wit to help continue to bridge that gap. We’ll give you whatever you need. There is just one condition.”