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  “Hey, I forgot about that bourgie sister of yours. Her business might not do so well if she’s tied to you,” Lorraine snarled.

  Jazz screamed something unintelligible at the same time she grabbed the front of Lorraine’s sweater. Caught off guard, the older woman swung a fist at Jazz’s head. The glancing blow made Jazz blink, but rage kept her from feeling pain. Jazz punched Lorraine in the chest. She worked on getting her hands around Lorraine’s throat, but a force yanked her away.

  Byron put his brawny frame between them. “What the hell…”

  “Shit,” Tyretta yelled. She dragged Lorraine out of the office and into the hallway.

  Chyna and Lilly came running from the club, both shouting in excitement. They helped Tyretta subdue a thrashing Lorraine. The three women pinned her against the wall, all talking at once and telling her to calm down.

  “I’m going to finish you off,” Lorraine gasped. “You hear me, bitch?”

  Jazz tried to twist free of Byron’s iron grip. “Yeah, I’ll k—”

  “Boss, shut the fuck up,” Byron boomed. He shook Jazz by both shoulders until she blinked hard and looked at him. “We can’t have this shit, not now!”

  Chyna made a wide circle around Tyretta and Lilly who had Lorraine pinned against the hallway wall. Eyes wide, Chyna rushed up to Jazz and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You threaten, she turn up dead, bad news.”

  “Stay with her,” Byron ordered Chyna. He pushed both of them into the office and banged the door shut.

  Jazz kicked it and spun around. Marching to a small bar at the other end of the sofa, Jazz grabbed the squat round bottle of brandy. She poured herself a generous portion. After taking a sip, she remembered Chyna and held up her glass.

  “You want some?”

  Chyna nodded. “I’ll fix. You sit and get calm.”

  “Going to take more liquor and a couple of days. The nerve of her coming in here.” Jazz broke off at the muffled angry voices through the door.

  “So, we had a good night for business.” Chyna casually walked to the door and stood so that she blocked Jazz’s view. “After all that’s happened you have plenty of customers. Competitors get jealous. My father faced the same thing when he first opened his business.”

  “Uh-huh.” Jazz leaned against the edge of her desk.

  “Success is the best revenge.” Chyna gazed at Jazz as if looking for signs she’d bolt for the door. “I don’t hear voices now. She must be gone.”

  “Yeah.” Jazz lost her taste for the brandy. Instead she pulled a slim cigar from the pack on her desk.

  Lilly came in first. She blew out a breath noisily and fanned her face. “Damn, that old heffa got some fight in her. I don’t get it. She’s got her own place in Easy Town. Everybody says she does good business.”

  “She still wants payback. First thing I’m going to do is change that damn name.” Jazz stabbed the glowing red end of the cigar like it was a pointer.

  “Okay.” Lilly exchanged a glance with Chyna, who shrugged in response. “At least I don’t hear sirens headed this way.”

  “Lorraine won’t call the police. I don’t care what she said,” Jazz replied.

  Byron pushed through the door. “Tyretta, put Lorraine in her car and got her to leave.”

  “Humph,” Jazz grunted with a nod.

  The others talked off their adrenaline rush from the fight scene. Jazz said nothing, but continued to puff on the small cigar. She studied the swirls of smoke floating away. The patterns were interesting, like the pattern of events spinning around her. If you watched long enough you began to see shapes and meaning.

  “Lorraine didn’t come over here just to gloat. That was just a bonus. No, she came over here for another reason,” Jazz said softly. The others stopped talking and turned to her.

  “What you thinkin’, boss?” Byron said.

  “I don’t know. Right now the whole picture isn’t together. But Lorraine wasn’t all that attached to this place. Her mother used to get drunk and treat her like dirt. She told me the same stories at least a hundred times once she got to drinking and smoking weed.” Jazz looked around.

  Tyretta snorted a laugh as she slumped into a chair. “One time she threatened to burn the place down. Said she was gone bring her mama from the nursing and make her watch it go up.”

  “Real nice,” Byron muttered. He wiped his brow with a wad of paper towels.

  “You should have seen this office when I got in here. Papers piled everywhere, stained with beer and grease. The bookkeeping tablets were a joke.” Jazz wrinkled her nose in distaste at the memory of how smelly the whole place had been.

  Chyna jumped and grabbed onto Byron, eyes wide. “What was that noise?”

  “I didn’t hear nuthin’.” Tyretta started to say more when a loud thump sounded. “Oh shit.”

  “Stay here and lock the door,” Byron rumbled.

  “No, don’t go. Lorraine’s gang might be out there waiting for you, for all of us,” Chyna cried too late.

  “Hey!” Tyretta added reaching out to pull him back..

  “Don’t come out unless you hear from me.” Byron’s long legs had taken him out of the room before either of them could protest.

  “He’s actin’ a fool,” Tyretta said when the door closed in her face. Where’s your pistol, Jazz?” She spun around to find Jazz no longer standing next to her.

  “The police took all her guns,” Chyna whispered back.

  Jazz stood with a 9mm pistol in one hand. “I got his back. You hear any yelling, a shot, or anything dial 911.”

  “Oh shit. Y’all got to be crazy. Lorraine ain’t playing anytime she show to call you out,” Tyretta argued.

  “Yeah. So she gonna get the fight she wants,” Jazz retorted.

  She gave a curt nod, a signal for them to get out of her way. The two women parted to either side. Tyretta hissed, her mouth hanging open. Chyna’s wide-eyed stare turned glassy with fear. Though her lips moved, no sound came out. Jazz stepped out into the hall. She gently, yet firmly closed the door behind her. Then she moved with caution down the hallway. She heard more soft thumps. A shadow seemed to move to her right. Jazz caught herself before calling out to Byron. If someone had surprised and overcome the big man, she’d only give away her position. But seconds later a yelp and grunt of pain propelled her on. Jazz shoved aside several chairs as she ran across the open floor and around tables. Another shout, this time curse words, came from her left. She raced past the kitchen and adjacent small dining room, down a hallway and to the back. Byron leaned against the steel rear door leading, a palm pressed to his jaw.

  “What happened? You okay?” Jazz gasped when she got close, looking for blood.

  “I’m alright. Some dude was up in here. Tried to hold him, but he got in a couple good punches upside my head. He hit the door running and took off.” Byron seemed more angry than physically harmed.

  Jazz glanced outside. “Get in here. No telling what he might have done if you’d cornered him. Now I’m glad the fire marshal made me install this door.”

  City fire code required at least two exit doors be the push bar type. They locked when closed, but opened when the bar was pushed from inside. The doors provided the security Jazz required, yet if a fire or other emergency happened inside, people could get out fast. The big doors had been expensive, and Jazz complained loudly about them during renovations. At this moment, she wanted to kiss them.

  “How’d he get in?” Byron flinched when he moved one shoulder.

  “I don’t think it’s a coincidence some guy was hiding in here the same time Lorraine came to visit,” Jazz replied. “Let’s check the rest of the club.”

  Minutes later they returned to Jazz’s office. It took a good thirty seconds of convincing Chyna it wasn’t a trap, and she could let them in. Tyretta let loose with a string of profanity, yelling at Chyna to stop being a “crazy-ass wimp.” Byron grinned at Jazz.

  “Things already gettin’ back to normal,” he said.
/>   Tyretta yanked the door open. “What did I tell you? Ain’t nobody holding a gun on ‘em. Damn, the way she kept snivelin’ made me want to take the risk just to get outta here. Y’all awright?”

  “You didn’t know,” Chyna replied defensively as she wiped tears from her cheeks.

  “Ah, leave the kid alone. She’s not hard core like you,” Byron said. “You want, I’ll follow you all the way home.”

  Chyna clapped her hands together. “Yes!”

  “Oh please. They’re after Jazz, not you,” Tyretta blurted out.

  All three gazed at Jazz steadily in silence. Jazz nodded. “Yeah.”

  Chapter 12

  The next day at five thirty in the evening, Willa, MiMi, and Cedric came to Candy Girls. Willa and MiMi sat at the bar drinking soda while Cedric got the grand tour from Byron. As customers drifted in and the music started, they all moved to Jazz’s office. Saturdays got busy fast, and Rochelle had been cooking non-stop since eleven that morning. Once settled in with their various beverages of choice, Jazz gave an account of her adventures.

  “I called y’all over here because I know who the killer is,” Jazz said as she glanced around at a set of startled expressions. Then she laughed loudly. “Okay, I’m bullshitting around. I love old movies where they do that.”

  “You play too much,” Willa snapped.

  MiMi giggled. “Girl, you had me going.”

  “Damn boss. Give me a heart attack like I ain’t had enough excitement this week.” Byron exhaled noisily. “I’m going out on the floor. Rochelle ain’t had a break since two o’clock. Chyna came in to help her cook.”

  “How is she going to dance and cook?” Willa asked, looking at Jazz.

  “She’s not gonna dance anymore. I hired another girl to dance with Lilly tonight. Not that I need to explain how I run things,” Jazz wisecracked. She turned to Byron. “Fine. We’re going to have a normal night. Follow the usual routine.”

  Byron nodded. “Gotcha.”

  “Thanks again, man,” Cedric called out to him and waved.

  “No problem. If I don’t see y’all before you leave, everybody have a good evening.” Byron waved to everyone and left.

  “I may not be leaving. Mama Ruby and Aunt Beryl are spoiling Sage rotten tonight so I can shake my thang.” MiMi bobbed her head to the muted beat of music coming from the club.

  “You’ll shake it home to pick up your baby,” Willa said with a frown.

  “Yes, mother.” MiMi snorted to punctuate her sarcasm.

  “Sure, stay and party, girl,” Jazz put in to egg her on, but more to annoy her big sister.

  Cedric grinned at them and cleared his throat. “I like the security surveillance system. Impressive.” He looked at the two flat screen televisions set on the wall.

  “Thanks. I can turn on the sound, too.” Jazz went to her PC and hit a key. A throbbing neo soul tune flooded the office.

  “That’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.” MiMi jumped to her feet and danced across the floor, hips swaying.

  “ On Saturday nights jumps old school baby boomers come in around eight. They leave at midnight cause they gotta get up for church Sunday mornings.” Jazz laughed when Willa’s mouth formed a wide circle. “Your Aunt Ametrine would be up in here spraying holy oil if she knew. Bet I could name some of her church members.”

  “I’d pay to see online videos of church deacons jammin’, a drink in one hand,” Cedric said with a laugh.

  “Humph, you don’t have typical nights anymore. Half dead enemies show up. Evil ex-boss pops in like the devil.” Willa walked over to the screen and stared as if looking for suspects.

  “Typical for this part of town,” Jazz joked as she joined MiMi in dancing.

  “Impressive indeed .” Willa picked up the remote, lightly tapped a key and the music stopped.

  “Hey, I just got my groove going good,” MiMi complained loudly.

  “Tell me again what Lorraine had to say.” Willa sat down.

  “Basically she admitted setting me up,” Jazz replied. She fanned her face as she sat down as well.

  “She dropped enough hints to make it clear, but nothing you could report to the police,” Cedric put in.

  “Yeah. You’re on notice to deliver what she wants or else.” Willa wore a frown of anxiety. “We’ve got to stop her.”

  Jazz pointed a forefinger at each of them in turn. “You, you, or you won’t do anything. I’m handling Lorraine and her crap.”

  “Let’s review then. With your fancy security cameras she waltzed her ass in here and caught you by surprise,” Willa deadpanned.

  “We had a busy night. I was reviewing the receipts, invoices, and a half dozen other details.” Still Jazz avoided returning Willa’s gaze.

  “Not to mention you’re going on trial for murder. Please describe to us how you’re ‘handling Lorraine’? Or maybe you want us to believe this is all according to your grand plan.” Willa crossed her arms.

  “I, uh, well. Um.” Jazz sighed. “Okay, for once you have a point. But the fact that she showed up says something.”

  “Yeah, that she’s gloating because you’re about to go down for a murder you didn’t do,” Willa shot back. “The bonus is she’ll get her grimy hands on your property.”

  “Ouch.” MiMi winced at Willa’s sharpened point.

  Cedric switched his attention from admiring the security monitors and back to the conversation. “Wait a minute. I agree with Jazz to some degree. Lorraine didn’t come to just gloat. She came over to make Jazz an offer. Why would she do that if Jazz going to prison is a done deal?”

  “Because I have something she wants. Not my property,” Jazz said fast when Willa opened her mouth to comment.

  “Hmm.” Cedric stood, legs apart. He frowned as he rubbed his hands together. “ Yeah. The city is trying to shut you down. Seems like all Lorraine has to do is wait until you go to prison and make a bid for it again. So why go to the trouble of trying to cut a deal?”

  “Willa’s right. She’s a bitch enjoying your misery,” MiMi tossed out casually. She glanced at her fingernails. “I need a manicure bad. But I have to economize since somebody won’t help us find our cash.”

  “You won’t need manicures if thugs cut off your fingers, right?” Willa replied and grinned when MiMi let out a squeak.

  MiMi clasped her hands together. “You’re so mean.”

  Jazz gazed at the monitors with a frown. “Maybe. Nah, I don’t see it.”

  “What?” Cedric sat down in a chair.

  “MiMi may not be the only one hot to find Filipe’s missing money,” Jazz said.

  “You mean my fiancé’s missing money,” MiMi piped up.

  Jazz flipped a hand at MiMi’s comment as though brushing away an annoying gnat. “But Lorraine definitely wasn’t in Filipe’s gang, so how could she know? Much less think she had a right to it.”

  “Didn’t they hang out at Candy Girls back in the day? Filipe used to come here when Lorraine owned the place. That’s how y’all met,” Willa said.

  “She chatted him up like she did most customers dropping a bunch of money. Him and his boys would drink her best liquor, get the private room and tipped well. Real well.” Jazz smiled.

  “ Guys stuffed a bunch of bills in your g-string, huh? Shoot, the way my finances are going, I may have to do a bump and grind soon.” MiMi looked at her fingernails again.

  “Ah the good old days,” Jazz quipped. “You don’t want the down sides of working the pole, sweetie. Trust me.”

  “Where’s your private room?” MiMi asked. She seemed not to have heard Jazz’s warning.

  “I used that extra floor space for a DJ, and made my office bigger. My girls didn’t want to do private dances. Guys tended to expect more than dancing, and they’d want to do drugs. Not in my place.”

  “Aunt Ametrine would be pleased to hear it,” Willa joked with a crooked grin. Her fiercely church-going aunt still preached at Jazz from time to time.

  “Yeah, at le
ast I’m cutting down on the number of sins I’m committing,” Jazz replied with a laugh.

  “So Lorraine wasn’t in Filipe’s gang. Did she get drugs from him for the customers in that private room?” Cedric asked.

  “Nah, I would have known. Most of those folks brought their own.” Jazz rocked her leather executive chair back and forth a few times. A thought, really a memory, hit her. “Lorraine has three sons. Well she had four. One got killed back in 2010, shot on the street. One is locked up in New York State, death row. The other one is in Hunt Correctional, convicted in 2012 maybe, and got twenty-five years.”

  “You said four. What about the other one?” Willa said.

  “He lives straight from what I hear. Got a family and a good job in Dallas. He doesn’t come to visit. Too much drama I guess,” Jazz replied.

  “So one or all of the three bad boys could have been a member of Filipe’s gang.” Cedric frowned again. “But you would know that, too.”

  “I didn’t meet every thug Filipe did business with. He had a close circle of guys around him, but he had some loose associates as well.” Jazz gazed at Cedric. “Can you do some research?”

  “Hey, you’ve got that fine detective sweating after you. Put him on the case,” MiMi said with a wink.

  “I don’t want Don gettin’ caught up. He could lose everything behind this shit,” Jazz said with force.

  MiMi raised an eyebrow as she cut a glance at Willa. “Well, well, well. Sounds like you care a whole lot about Detective Feel Good. How long have y’all been a couple, may I ask?”

  Jazz lit a cigarillo. “No, you may not ask cause it’s none of your damn business.”

  “I believe that’s the answer.” MiMi wore a satisfied smirk.

  “Humph, from gangstas to a policeman,” Willa murmured with a shake of her head.

  “Back to the subject of why Lorraine came here,” Cedric put in before a battle could pick up steam.

  “Thank you, Cedric. Women always focus on getting up in other people’s private life.” Jazz gave Willa and MiMi a sour look. “Okay, so let’s go with the theory that at least one of Lorraine’s evil kids was in Filipe’s gang. I’d bet on the Jay-Jay. The oldest has been out of state too long.”