This short chapter is much darker than the rest of the story. It developed that way as I was writing it. If issues of drug addiction are difficult for you then you might want to give it a miss. I'll return to my usual tone for Chapter 12 - the finale of this part of the story.
*
Romeo the DJ hadn't been wrong - once you navigated the maze of streets you really couldn't miss his address. On one side was a huge block, built fifty years ago to house the community but now decaying and abandoned. Gang tags covered the walls and the boarded-up windows. Jessica navigated around another pot-hole in the road and stopped in front of his house. There was a high wall with a gate and through it she could see an expensive automobile. Around here that wall wouldn't keep the thieves and other predators out. Only one thing could do that - reputation. She checked again - not one tag on that outside wall. Masta Playa was clearly still a man to be reckoned with.
She buzzed the intercom. "You the one Romeo sent," said a voice like dark chocolate, a voice she recognised from that night at Antwan's club, "bring your wheels in or you'll be walking home."
By the time she had parked in the driveway the house's big main door was open. That this place should exist here was ridiculous. She'd seen houses like it back in the old days when she was with her ex-husband but never in any neighborhood remotely like this.
"Sent the help home, baby, so we could talk business." Masta Playa was perhaps 45 but the years lay well on him. They gave him a certain gravitas. She recognised everything in the house was of the finest and so was his wardrobe, from a hand-painted silk tie through his immaculate hand-tailored suit right down to his Italian shoes. Everything around him radiated power and it all fitted the man like a glove.
He'd seen her checking him out. "What did you expect - a hat with a feather in it? Times have moved on. When you running your stable you got to keep up with what's happening. Always another opportunity to take, always another asset to acquire."
She could see how others had felt attraction for him. Men of authority were a weakness for her and despite all she knew about him she couldn't help savouring his confidence and personal magnetism. His features were regular and his smile was charming. Dark chocolate eyes looked out with a twinkle in them and she knew that he liked what he saw too.
"Would you like a drink?"
Her suspicions were immediately aroused - she knew that she had to be careful around a man like this. She'd seen that first look he had given her as she got out of her car. She was used to men looking at her but not like that. He had been like a farmer at a cattle auction appraising potential new livestock. In a half-second he'd checked her face, figure and bearing. She was in no doubt that if you asked him, and he felt inclined to talk, then the Masta Playa could have told you EXACTLY how much money she could make in a year as one of his whores. Then he'd turned on the charm and the velvet-smooth voice but not before she'd seen that first look. Take a drink from the Masta Playa, no way!
"Thank you," she replied, "I'm fine."
He gave her a little knowing smile. Romeo had told him that this one was a corporate lawyer. That suggested she had brains and her not taking a drink proved it. He liked intelligent white women, they were ... a challenge.
He finally held up two hands and chuckled. "Jessica, that is your name? Yes, well, I know you've heard lots about me - I expect 99% of it is true. I was a dangerous man before I retired. But that's a young man's game and I don't need more money than I have." He waved a casual hand around him. "Besides, at my best, I didn't ever need to use mickeys." He chuckled again. "Sit down. You must have something as a guest in my home. Our municipal water system is still just about drinkable - I can at least get you a glass of water from the faucet over there. You can watch me run it if you like."
Jessica momentarily felt silly for her caution. "Yes, thank you," was out of her mouth even before she knew it. Then she remembered who this man was and the fact that, besides Romeo, a self-confessed old associate of the Playa, no-one knew that she was here. She cursed her stupidity - damn right she was going to watch him.
The Masta Playa could feel her eyes boring into him as he carefully washed and wiped a glass before doing the same to the interior of a jug. He filled the jug with water straight from the faucet and then poured a glass for her. She was a careful woman and that just made her even more delicious, even more desirable. He was a connoisseur of the female form, it had been his livelihood, and this one was out of the top drawer but he savoured her more for those keen, intelligent, eyes. Watching him every step of the way.
He handed her the glass and then turned to replace the jug on his French antique side-board. In the small mirror he saw her hold the glass up to the light of a window and inspect it. She was so suspicious and so lovely. He saw her raise the glass and take a cautious sip. He turned and walked to his seat. It was clear that he was ready to talk business. Without a flicker of reaction he saw her take a mouthful of the water and then put the glass down on the table by her chair.
She had done enough. Enough to show that she respected his home, enough not to reject his hospitality.
She had done enough. He'd never used 'mickeys' - knock-out drops - leave that to the young idiots running stables today. His drug was far more subtle and, of course, had been in the spout of the water-jug. He was sure she had drunk enough - he would know in about ten minutes time.
"I hear you are interested in my song? It still sells - but I didn't make it for the money. I did it just to show that in my spare time I could produce better than all those so-called gangstas. The song speak to you?"
"Yes," said Jessica and picked her words carefully, "I thought it was amazing. I saw what it did to a crowd and some of my friends."
"At Antwan's place in the city?"
"Yes."
The Playa smiled a slow smile. "Always liked the fact Romeo uses my song like that. Makes it worthwhile. What you need from me?"
"Its the music really, I have some different lyrics." She handed him a sheet of paper from her briefcase.
He scanned them and an eye-brow slowly raised. "The music was my speciality, lyrics not so much. Couldn't claim to be the best at them but I got my message across, told it how it is. These, pardon me saying so, ain't much as lyrics but they do send a message and I like them."
