Chapter 5 #3
“Yeah. In my bag but I’m usually careful. I was a little distracted and hungry last night. I didn’t think about the burger patty, but I usually ask before I order,” she explains. He nods before shoveling his fork filled with pancakes and eggs into his mouth.
Their conversation dies after that and they eat in silence.
It’s a strange but expected dynamic. They are still strangers, drawn together by a highly unusual and adversarial circumstance, now partners trying to navigate the new dynamic.
The main issue is trust. It’s naturally minimal on both sides but each is consciously willing—and trying—to see if it builds. For him, it’s the eyes, her eyes.
Seemingly out of the blue, while placing the containers in the trash, he glances at her and says, “You two really have the exact same eyes.”
Dismissively, she responds, “We are identical.” He nods slowly but contemplatively and she steps back to the kitchenette. “Does Terrance have any points for hotels or rentals?” she asks with a smirk.
“Nah. Just book anything.”
“Two rooms, right?” she asks, confirming that she is no longer his captive under constant watch.
“Of course,” he says.
“I’m going to do two nights just to be safe.”
“Bet. We can extend if needed.”
Fifteen minutes later, she booked their business class flights and reserved their rental car and two suites in downtown Jacksonville. When he didn’t mention a limit on the credit card, she decided they would fly, drive, and sleep in extra comfort.
“All set. I’ll be ready in thirty so we can get this sling,” she says, then closes her laptop.
At ten o’clock on the dot, Akeem and Sunjiya pull up to Lazy Nights Club.
Their flight was delayed by thirty minutes, and although the rental car was reserved, there was an additional wait for their full-size sedan.
They didn’t check into their suites at Serenity Hotel and Spa until after eight.
After showers and a few minutes to discuss their game plan, they left and headed to the club.
It’s Sunday night, one of its busiest nights due to drink and hookah specials and the headliner, Cocoa Kisses.
A line of at least thirty people wait to pay the fifty-dollar cover to get inside to the magic.
Lazy Nights gained popularity because of the all day and night hours of operations, the beds, and its beautiful and curvy dancers willingly breaking all Florida decency and prostitution laws for the right price.
“Are you ready for this?” Sunjiya asks, breaking his amorous stare.
From the moment she emerged from her suite dressed in simple black jeans paired with a black shirt with a plunging neckline and sexy black heels, Akeem had a hard time keeping his dark brown eyes off her.
She looked pretty in her comfortable yoga pants and tee shirt, but in this, she looks gorgeous, too fucking sexy.
While rubbing his beard with his thumb and pointer finger, he exhales, pushing his salacious thoughts to the back before answering.
“I’m always ready,” he admits with a tinge of arrogance.
Akeem is always prepared and two steps ahead before he does anything.
Before boarding the plane, he’d sent the name and location of the club to Axton and received the schematics, blueprints, and doctored financial statements.
Lazy Nights Club is owned by Ano Williams, a reformed dealer and pimp turned semi-legit.
He left the drug game but couldn’t give up the pussy one.
It’s sold in the club and he even arranges private fuck fests for top dollar athletes, celebrities, and those making real paper in the drug game.
The location of the club is perfect, just outside of the city, close to the water.
It’s a twenty thousand square foot converted warehouse with one main entrance, one in the back, and a side entrance for VIP.
Security guards dressed in all black with concealed weapons are stationed at all three and several plain-clothes guards linger inside.
Ano runs a tight ship and his patrons appreciate the security, discretion, and willing-to-fuck dancers.
“Are you ready?” he asks.
“Yes, I am. I just hope somebody in here knows her and maybe knows where she is,” she says while squeezing the lighter tightly in her left palm. She’s been holding the lighter the entire ride.
“I think this is a good start,” he admits.
Any lead, no matter how big or small, is something.
It can bridge a gap, provide new information, or even just lead to another link in a missing chain.
Learning a mark involves tracking and Akeem has mastered both.
“We’re just going to blend in. Scope this shit and wait before we ask questions,” he adds coolly.
“If we’re lucky, someone who knows her might approach us. ”
“I hope so,” she says before dropping the lighter into her small tote.
“Imma let you out here while I park,” he says as he creeps toward the main entrance.
“No. I’ll walk with you,” she insists.
“In those shoes?”
“Yes. I’m used to them.”
Before driving past the main door, he carefully watches security pat down the tall man at the entrance.
He hit all the main spots but did not extend his search down to the man’s ankles, a spot often overlooked.
After finding a parking spot on the second row, Akeem grabs his gun box from under the driver’s seat.
He removes his shirt, the holstered gun, and one from the small of his back.
Sunjiya’s eyes dart toward him. She notices the ink on his neck is connected to elaborate art that covers the right side of his toned chest, shoulder, and sculpted arm. The ink on his rich dark skin is breathtaking, absolutely gorgeous, and she’s caught up, staring.
Damn! All of that was under those hoodies.
While he places one gun into the box and the other securely into his Timbs, Sunjiya’s eyes don’t leave him. She’s stuck admiring him: this side profile, handsome face, and beautiful body. The sound of him clearing his throat is the only thing that pulls her eyes from him.
“You ready?” he asks, amusement lacing his tone because he caught her staring.
“Yeah…Um… Yeah, I was looking at the car over there,” she stumbles out, clearly not telling the truth. She points for added effect.
“Oh, okay,” he says ,then smirks before killing the engine and getting out.
“Shit,” she utters, disappointed that she let herself get caught up and mad that he caught her. The arrogant ass smug look when he got it couldn’t be missed.
When he opens her door, he extends his hand. She accepts and gets out. With his hand on the small of her back, they journey toward the door. At the line, instead of joining the tail, he coaxes her to the front.
“Ay, nigga, the line is byke dere,” the short man standing next to one of the security guards says with a heavy southern drawl.
After pulling out the three bills folded in his pocket, Akeem extends his hand. While cuffing the bills, he says, “I was hoping this could let us skip. My girl’s feet are killing her.”
The man eyes the bills in Akeem’s hand then shifts his eyes to Sunjiya’s three-inch heels. They aren’t the tallest he’s seen since working here but the bills sway his decision. The last nigga tried to jump the line with fifty damn dollars. This looks like two, maybe three bills.
Without saying a word to Akeem, he slaps hands with him and grabs the bills in the process.
He nods Akeem and Sunjiya toward security and they step over.
A few grumbles and grunts from the others in the line sound off but no one really says shit too loudly for fear of getting kicked out of line and not being allowed in at all.
One guard motions for Sunjiya to open her tote, barely shining his flashlight inside.
Then he brushes his hands down the sides of her body.
The other guard tells Akeem to raise his hands and open his legs.
His pat down is quick, and like Akeem suspected, it doesn’t include his ankles.
With his gun undetected and his hand on the small of Sunjiya’s back, they walk into the club and are immediately stopped for the cover charge.
“Welcome to Lazy. That’s one hundred,” the half-dressed lady behind the small window says.
“You accept cards?” he asks, already knowing they do. The website and a few reviews stated cards and money apps are acceptable forms of payments.
“Yes, and you can even get cash with it. Cash rules once you get out on the floor,” she says with a wink.
“Bet. Let me get two grand cash,” he says before sliding his card over to her. After processing the transaction, she places four stacks of bills in front of him.
“Five, one, fifteen hundred, two,” she says. When he eyes the motley stacks of ones, five, and tens, she sucks her teeth and says, “It’s all there. Do you need a bag?”
“No,” Sunjiya answers as she grabs two of the stacks and shoves them into her tote. He takes the other two and they walk into the club.
At first glance, they both have the same impression. The website needs to be updated.
The walls need a paint refresh. The floors, although polished, have major evidence of the many heels that have clacked against them over the years.
Two of the beds against the left side of the club lean on one side.
The club needs repairs that the owner, Ano, refuses to pay for.
As long as the bitches bring in a crowd, he doesn’t care about aesthetics.