The Pink Panther Clique Read online

  “Let me think about it, and I’ll get back to you. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “That’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout. I’ll even obligate some of the record sales royalties to go toward directly paying the loan back.”

  “As long as your artist knows that’s what you’re doing. I don’t wanna be a part of any artists getting duped by their label. We go back a long way, so, of course, I am going to try to look out. But the loan needs to be the label’s obligation, not the artist’s.”

  “I’m fine with that, Milla.”

  “A’ight. I’ll have the lawyers draw everything up and make sure we’re good.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  “But you know, I’ll need a little something to get started because I have to make certain arrangements. I’ll also need all of your financials.”

  “I’ll e-mail everything over to you.”

  “No, mail it to me at this address.” I then handed him a card. I didn’t need a paper trail, just in case I had to get unorthodox.

  We exited the studio to meet up with King-G. He was kicking it with Jadakiss. Jada was so impressed that he decided to hop on a track with KG last minute. TI happened to walk in the studio, and he listened as well. When they were done, they looked at Cedrick. TI nodded and said, “If you don’t sign him, I will.” Jadakiss agreed. And when Jada put his seal on a young cat, he had to be fresh. And King-G definitely was certified. I could understand why Cedrick wanted him so bad.

  Cedrick went off with Jadakiss to kick it for a little while, and I was left all alone with KG.

  “I’m starving,” he said. “I been thuggin’ it out in the studio for two days straight. A nicca needs to eat. I’m worn out and exhausted,” he said, throwing back a bottle of water.

  “I bet. But your hard work is paying off. Your music is on point. You’ve got a lot of talent. You’re making hits.”

  “Somewhat. I’m just waiting for the right deal to come along. I got a lot of things in my life that aren’t quite right yet, feel me? I’m waiting for the right hit to come to me, the right label, the right lady . . .” he said, eyeing me. Something about the way he said it created a moment of silence. Okay, I saw his game. It was cute, but he was an unsigned artist who couldn’t do anything for me right now. The man who I chose to give my time and energy to would have to be already established. Been there and done that with those on the cusp of success. I wasn’t into gambling anymore. I needed a little bit more this go-round.

  “I hear you. Well, the only advice I can give you is to keep looking. I’m sure if you have patience, all of those things will eventually come along.”

  “Yeah, it most definitely will, ma.” He smiled. And then he did that thing with his eyes again. I looked the other way. Just when things were getting a little awkward, Cedrick came back into the room. He nodded for us to follow him, and we both did.

  The three of us went to the office in the back of the building. Cedrick was smiling and sweating at the same time. What was he up to? Finally, I heard it, and I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was. Cedrick offered King-G a deal with a $7 million signing bonus. I froze. My eyes widened as I processed what he just said! What the hell is he doing? I haven’t even gotten a green light on the deal. There isn’t a written contract, written proposal, or one financial document in my possession. And the pressure was now on, because if Cedrick couldn’t make good on his word, his career would be done. I smiled and tried to act happy, but I was really looking at him like he had lost his damn mind. Had I been psychic, I would have known that this deal was the worst possible thing I could have ever done in my life!

  Chapter 5

  Sunny-SolÉ

  * * *

  With my game face on, I calmly sat in the governor of New York’s oversized plush office. I made a few phone calls and fronted like I was a member of his New York campaign team. He owed me a favor, but he didn’t know it yet. He was one of my few customers I dealt with in my underground world. He purchased some counterfeit bills to replace some of the taxpayers’ money he stole from the MALCOLM AND MARTIN MAKE A CHANGE FUND. Money that was supposed to be used to help promote minority business opportunities. Because many blacks didn’t know about the fund, it was easy to exploit. And his crooked ass took $1.3 million from it last year. I wasn’t stupid. I kept track of each and every person who entered my hidden world. Initially, I found people who were in desperate situations and needed money. My way of helping them out was by providing fake bills. After a while, I earned a reputation for having the best “authentic-looking” fake money, and that’s why certain people with money problems sought me out. To protect myself, I hired a runner to screen all potential customers. Through him, I found out I had a potential customer coming down from Albany who wanted a large amount of money as soon as possible. The person checked out; they weren’t law enforcement, but it was close.

  The place where they wanted to meet my runner was at some mansion in New Rochelle. It was owned by a corporation, owned by another corporation, owned by another. My curiosity was piqued. So I did some digging. And when I found out who really owned that property, I was floored.

  A man named Cliff Barnes met with my runner. Turns out, he was the silent business partner of the most powerful man in New York.

  The governor!

  I wouldn’t have believed it had I not seen it with my own eyes. When I found out that the person who made the purchase was strongly connected to him, I followed them the day the drop was made and saw him hand Governor Wyzask the package of counterfeit bills. I snapped a picture of the exchange, and I now had my evidence, which I planned to use to my advantage. If he didn’t want to be exposed, he needed to cooperate. And that was easy. All he had to do was sit and listen to what I had to say.

  “How can I help you, Mrs. Williamson?” the governor asked as he walked in. He sat down and gave me a fake smile. “You must know some powerful people, if you were able to get a meeting with me on such short notice.”

  “I know who I need to know.” My face was still and stoic. I wanted him to know I meant business.

  “Have we met before?” he asked.

  “Not exactly. Let’s just say we’ve done business together.”

  “I’m not really sure what you mean by that. What kind of business? Personal or for the good people of New York?” He smiled. This muh’fucka didn’t have a clue what I had over his head. But he was about to find out.

  “Let me be straight with you, Governor . . . I drove all the way here to Albany because I have an issue that only you can resolve. I’d like to show you something.”

  “All right,” he said slowly. His tone was curious, and he loosened his tie.

  “I’d like a pardon for my husband. He’s in federal prison right now, but—” The governor put his hand up and shook his head.

  “Okay, let me stop you right there. First and foremost, I have no idea who your husband is and why you’re really here. Second, if he’s in federal prison, I cannot help you. I deal with matters of New York State only. Sorry you came all the way here, ma’am, but he needs to file a commutation pardon request with the president.”

  “Actually, I have a better idea. He needs to be charged with a state crime. He’ll be summonsed to leave on a writ to deal with the pending charges you created. Then he will be moved to a New York State prison. After that, he’ll get pardoned . . . by you. Then, I will board a private jet and leave this country with my husband and son.” He looked at me as though I asked him to marry his own mother.

  “Get out! I’m calling the police. How dare you come in here with this insanity!” He picked up the phone.

  “Put the phone down, motherfucker,” I said as I crossed my legs. “If you’re calling them, tell them to pick your crooked ass up as well. I know what you’ve been doing.” He placed the black office phone back on the receiver.

  “What are you talking about?”

  I turned my phone’s screen in his direction and played a video. It showed him tak
ing the package that I knew had the money in it. Counterfeit money.

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Governor, sir. You see, this video I have is proof that you are the true recipient of $1,300,000 of false money. Counterfeit. Fake. Falsely printed bills. I think you understand! You purchased them for $300,000, and, as a matter of fact, you have another order pending. Does that refresh your memory?” I didn’t give him a chance to even respond. I kept on talking. “You stole the money from a fund for black people. You just figured nobody would find out. Turns out, I do a thorough check on every customer I deal with. So like I said, you’ll be calling the district attorney out of Queens and charging my husband with something. I’ll let you pick the charge. And then you will pardon him. You’re up for reelection this year. I’d hate for this information to get out and go public. Or even get to the FBI.”

  I could see the steam coming from his head, and I sensed fear. I knew I had him in my pocket, and he’d do anything to keep from being exposed.

  “Are you done?” he asked with his face screwed up.

  “Actually, no. One more thing . . . I want a meeting with crooked-ass Judge Brenda Doom. She’s federal.”

  “I can’t guarantee you that.”

  “Oh yes, you can. Not only are you going to guarantee it, but you’re going to set it up!” I’d never blackmailed anyone in my life, but I had to do something. I couldn’t let my husband go down in a crooked-ass justice system, where everybody who handed out justice was crooked as well! I had my king on my back and my son on my shoulders, and I’d be damned if I allowed this bullshit to split up my family!

  Chapter 6

  Eshe

  * * *

  Agent Perrell. That was his name. We were on our way to get rid of the body. We removed his clothing, destroyed his phones and all other communication devices we found on him, and prayed that once we dumped him, his body would never be discovered. Anything that might have been being tracked showing his location was smashed to pieces. I went with them to the Osmogos River to dump the body because if anything went down, I would not let my brothers take responsibility for it. Jerry shot him. And Marcellus and I were going to help finish everything off. We were in this as a family. Point-blank!

  We opened the trunk of the rental, and my brothers pulled the body out. Marcellus lifted the body and dropped him on the ground. “Uggh, mmm.” There was a groan. The low fog and moist ground added to the eerie feeling.

  “What the hell was that?” I asked. It took a second, but after locking eyes with one another, we all looked down in the direction of where the noise was coming from. The ground. And sure enough, the body moved a little.

  “Impossible!” Marcellus said.

  “He’s not dead? You’ve gotta be kidding me. This can’t be possible. Fuck!”

  Jerry pulled his piece out. “I’ll take care of it.” He aimed it at the agent’s head. He moaned again. Shit. This wasn’t supposed to be happening this way.

  I stepped over him, sheltering his body with mine. “No! Don’t shoot him!” I knew that if I had just said it, Jerry might have pulled the trigger anyway. I had to make sure he didn’t.

  “Boss Lady, we have to make sure he’s dead,” Marcellus warned.

  “He survived a gunshot wound to the head. He wasn’t meant to die. We can’t.”

  “Nah. Eshe, you’re trippin’. We let him live, and then what? He’s gotta go.” Then suddenly I felt something on my leg. I looked down, and it was the agent’s hand wrapped around my ankle. His eyes were fluttering.

  “Pluh-pluh-please. Don’t. Duhh . . .” He couldn’t finish speaking. He was in and out of consciousness. But he was breathing.

  “My final answer is no. Cellus, get him in the backseat. And be careful moving him.”

  “You’re making a big mistake, Eshe. We’ll do life in prison,” Marcellus added. My mind was made up. “This is a Secret Serv—”

  “You think I don’t know that?” I said, frustrated.

  “You acting like we—” I interrupted him with my body language. I threw up my hand and shook my head to signal that I didn’t want to talk.

  “Whatever!” Marcellus said, kicking the dirt. He hated when I did that. But I needed to think.

  “You know how she gets when she’s going into problem-solving mode,” Jerry said to Marcellus. He nodded, knowing that I was plagued with the decision to do the right thing and protect my brothers at the same time. I wasn’t a killer. I didn’t like ending life at all. Had he been dead, fine. We could have dealt with that. But seeing a person clinging to life was something I’d never seen before, and I didn’t have the heart to kill a begging man. Jerry drove, and I rode shotgun. Marcellus got in the back with the butt naked white agent. His chest was moving up and down. He was alive, but barely.

  I pulled out my phone and made a call.

  “Dende! Cuz, how are you?”

  “I’m good. I’m shocked you have spare time to call your favorite cousin.”

  “I know. I have got to do better. But, cuz, I’ve got an emergency situation that only you can help me with.”

  “You okay?” he asked, truly concerned.

  “Not really, Dende. I need your help ASAP.”

  “Okay, what’s up? I’ve got a scheduled surgery in two hours.”

  “Can we talk face-to-face, in private?”

  “Of course. Sure. Anything for you, Eshe.”

  “This is life or death, Dende. I’m coming right now.”

  “Hurry, Eshe. I can’t be late for surgery. You know the hospital.”

  “Absolutely. I’m on my way.”

  My cousin Dende was a general surgeon. I met him at the hospital, and told him how dire the circumstances were for the agent. I offered him a hundred grand to see the Secret Service agent privately and to make sure he stayed alive. Dende hesitated at first, but when he heard the seriousness and urgency of my tone, he agreed. Thank goodness for Dr. Dende Hunt. He snuck him in and took him straight to the basement of the hospital, right behind the medical records office. He said nobody came back there. Dende set up a bed, hooked him up to all types of equipment that he snuck down, and he immediately began working on the agent. Jerry stood watch to make sure nobody came into the room. If so, he’d distract them.

  “I can lose my job for this. My license,” Dende stated.

  “I know, cuz. I know. But I could lose my life if you don’t help us. I’ll pay off all your medical school bills. Anything you need.”

  He looked at me. “All of them?”

  “Yes, and some. Just don’t let this man die. I’ll explain later.”

  “I hope you’re not into anything crazy,” he said as he injected the man with what I assumed was some type of anesthesia. “The bullet must have passed through. That’s a good sign. I think he’ll survive.” I turned and looked at Marcellus. We both knew the problem with what my cousin just said. If the bullet passed through, that meant it was still possibly in the office. We had to get back there and handle our business. I left Jerry with my cousin. Marcellus and I headed back to the office.

  We cleaned wherever we saw blood. I immediately had someone go to Home Depot and get new carpet and a crew to install it. I wanted the old shit up in less than an hour and the new carpet laid down before any of my employees had the chance to arrive at work. We had four hours to replace everything and find the bullet and shell casing.

  By 8:15 a.m., everything was done. If I could have, I would have given everyone the day off, but I couldn’t. We were holding tens of millions of dollars of our clients’ money, and we could not be unavailable at any time during normal business hours. That wasn’t the way this worked. My phone rang. It was my cousin Dende.

  “He’ll live. He’s recovering. But he’s gotta be out of here in the next two hours. I’ll get him set up wherever you want him to rest. Then I’m done, cuz. You’re on your own.”

  “Thank you! Thank you so much, Dende.” I called Jerry and told him to take the man to the Westin Hotel. Dend
e could set him up there. I had to find out why this man had done what he did. And I knew he wasn’t acting alone.

  My employees arrived by 8:30. I tried my best to hide the stressed look on my face. I sat behind my desk, tapping my favorite pen on the imported ebony wood. I spent more time here than in my own home. The phone rang, distracting me. It was my client, Mr. Kevin James.

  “Hello, Kevin,” I said.

  “Any news?” he asked.

  “Mr. James, give me ten minutes, and I’ll call you right back.” I hung up the phone. I pulled up his file and looked over his assets. The oil trader was wrong for denying him. One hundred million dollars was way too much money to expect him to have. They were keeping wealth among the same types of people, and pushing everyone else who didn’t look like them out. I’d already been dealing with one crisis, and I didn’t know what the future held. So I decided, fuck it. What did I have to lose? I was going to take a huge risk, unlike one that I’d ever taken before. I added an extra zero to his account balance and put my stamp of verification on it. I wasn’t going to let something so stupid stop a good man from reaching another level. He was now worth over $100 million on paper.

  I called him and told him what I had done. I took care of his banker, who would verify it if the oil company wanted to confirm his balance. I explained to him that it was totally his choice, and my fee would remain the same. He agreed. I was tired of seeing my people always get the bad end of the deal. So I did what was necessary. I ended the call with Mr. James when Marcellus knocked on my door.

  “Boss, we got a problem. The Secret Service is up front, and they’re asking to talk to you.”

  This was a problem. We never found the bullet or the casing!

  Chapter 7

  Milla

  * * *

  I worked my magic with the underwriters and got it done. I got the $12 million loan approved for Cedrick. Around the office they really started calling me Milla “Winfrey” because they said I handled them checks like Oprah. They thought it was a nice compliment. I took it as something to aspire to. I couldn’t wait to share the news with him. Plus, it would get him off my back. He’d been blowing up my phone nonstop because he needed that money. It only took me about three weeks to get the check cut. And I was meeting with him today to go over the terms. Terms that I would explain he could not deviate from, no matter the circumstances.