Double Dippin': Misty Part 15

"That's a negative way of looking at your man's livelihood. What's up, you trying to jinx him or something?" Natalie shook her head disapprovingly.

"Of course not, but I have been hinting for him to get a real job. I'd be much more comfortable if he was in a less dangerous profession," Anya said, making it sound like it was her idea for Sergio to get out of the game.

Natalie burst out laughing. "Keep dreaming, girl. That man's gonna ball 'til he falls. Do you really think he would give up his power to go work in the corporate world? Or would you prefer for him to flip burgers for a living? It seems like you're wis.h.i.+ng the worst for him," Natalie accused with her face twisted in a scowl.

"That's not true, but why don't we change the subject? I'm not comfortable talking about Sergio's personal business."

"I feel you on that. Majid would have a fit if he thought I was putting his business out there." Natalie glanced at the pen once more and then set it on the coffee table.

Anya was surprised to hear Natalie speaking as if she and Majid were in a serious relations.h.i.+p. First of all, Natalie was not Majid's main girl; she was one of many side pieces and was nothing more than a s.e.x toy to him. Secondly, Natalie had put his business out there when she disclosed that he hosted after-hour freak parties. But Anya didn't say anything. She reached over and returned the pen to the luxurious, cus.h.i.+oned box.

"So, how are you gonna celebrate your man's birthday? You should rent out the entire VIP area at the club and have a private party for him," Natalie suggested.

"I have other plans. Something quiet and romantic."

"Like what?"

"I was thinking about baking him a cake from scratch and-"

"OhmiG.o.d, that's so boring. What's wrong with you, girl? You're smas.h.i.+ng the biggest hustler in the area, and the only thing you can come up with for his birthday is a d.a.m.n cake? That's corny."

"That's not the only thing I'm planning to do. I'm trying to learn how to cook Dominican food, and I'm gonna surprise him with one of his favorite dishes-Pollo Guisado. That's chicken stew with a lot of flavor. It's served with rice and beans."

"Girl, if you don't stop being cheap and take your man out for a juicy steak and lobster instead of that c.r.a.p you're talking about. You gon' f.u.c.k around and lose Sergio to a b.i.t.c.h who knows how to treat a man."

"I know how to treat a man. Trust," Anya said with certainty. "It's not always about how much something costs, Natalie. It's about the effort involved in showing how much you care. I know Sergio, and he wouldn't want me to spend a fortune on an elaborate birthday gift. We're going to spend a quiet evening at home on his birthday and the fact that I'm taking the initiative to learn how to cook the food he loves will mean a lot to him."

"Oh, so you're gonna be cooking at his crib?"

Anya nodded. "You should see his house; it's stunning and huge with a pool and an outdoor Jacuzzi. And the kitchen looks like something out of a magazine. It's completely white with top-of-the-line appliances. I'm gonna love moving around and rattling pots and pans in his big, beautiful kitchen."

"I thought material things didn't mean anything to you and Sergio," Natalie said snidely.

"Obviously, we both like nice things, but I decided to cook for him. Something from the heart would mean more to him than something store-bought. After all, what can I buy Sergio that he can't buy himself?"

"Something better than a pen. If I had your money, I'd buy him a pure gold, Dookie chain to match the one he wears. That would look hot."

"No, I'm sticking to my gut and keeping it simple." Changing the subject, Anya said, "You know what he told me the other day? He said before he met me, he hardly ever stayed at home; he was always out in the streets. He said the place was so big, he felt lonely in there all alone. But now that we're seeing each other exclusively, he enjoys spending time at home." Anya went quiet briefly and then smiled. "Lately, I've been at his place a lot. He asked me to move in with him."

"Are you?"

Anya shrugged. "I don't know. We're getting really close, and I have to admit, I've been giving it a lot of thought. But I don't want to ruin what we have by moving too fast. You know what I mean?"

"I have no idea what you mean. s.h.i.+t, Majid wouldn't have to ask me twice. I'd be up in that b.i.t.c.h so fast...sitting in a plush chair with my feet up before he could blink his eyes." Natalie demonstrated by comically propping her feet up on Anya's coffee table.

Anya burst into laughter, and in the midst of it, she glimpsed the soles of Natalie's shoes and noticed they were painted a glossy red, mimicking Christian Louboutins. Sadly, the chipped and cracking paint was a dead giveaway that the shoes weren't authentic.

Anya had several pairs of Louboutins and wondered if Natalie was trying to compete with her. Embarra.s.sed for her friend, Anya glanced away from the cheap, hand-painted soles.

"So, how are things with you and Majid?" Anya asked, pretending that she considered their warped s.e.xual union as a genuine relations.h.i.+p.

"We're doing good; except for the fact that he got this b.i.t.c.h named Heidi who thinks she's running s.h.i.+t when Majid isn't around."

"What do you mean?"

"When he's taking care of business with Sergio, he can't personally attend the parties. So, the chick, Heidi, tries to get s.h.i.+t popping by telling Majid's other b.i.t.c.hes what to do." Looking disgruntled, Natalie twisted her lips. "It's one thing for Majid to tell me whose d.i.c.k to suck and whose p.u.s.s.y to eat, but I don't appreciate that b.i.t.c.h, Heidi, giving me orders."

"Are you really okay with the lifestyle you're leading?" Anya asked, choosing her words carefully. "I don't think it's emotionally or physically healthy for you to be tricking for Majid."

"I'm not tricking," Natalie protested.

"What do you call it?"

"Having fun, working parties."

"But you're not having fun."

"It's a lot of fun when I make my baby happy. But when Majid's not there, I don't like that b.i.t.c.h ordering me around."

Natalie's warped way of thinking was outrageous, but despite her flaws, Anya had grown to like her. She also felt sorry for her, and had come to the conclusion that Natalie was mentally slow. She hoped her friends.h.i.+p and guidance would steer her in the right direction.

"There's no reason for you to allow this Heidi chick to degrade you."

"There's nothing I can do about it."

"Yes, there is." With patient weariness, Anya touched Natalie's hand. "You have to stop selling yourself to entertain people who don't care about you. You have to start loving yourself."

"I have to keep Majid happy."

"No, you don't. You have to keep yourself happy."

"Who are you supposed to be, my therapist or somebody? Look, I have a plan and one day I'm gonna be in Heidi's position. I'm gonna be the one calling the shots. But right now I have to stay humble and play my part."

"I'm scared something bad is gonna happen to you, Natalie."

Natalie dismissed that idea with a hand wave. "Ain't nothing gonna happen to me. Now that I'm getting money, I don't have to make my rounds to different churches on Sunday."

Anya stared at Natalie blankly. "What are you talking about?"

"Me and my brother used to go from church to church sitting through boring sermons, waiting for the collection plate to come around."

Anya gasped. "Don't tell me..."

"Uh-huh. That used to be my hustle," Natalie said proudly. "Money s.n.a.t.c.hed from the collection plate would pay for our weed for a whole week."

Natalie's confession was so unexpected, Anya was startled into laughter. "You stole from the church to buy weed?"

"Sure did. Don't judge! The preacher's doing the same thing, but he's taking a lot more than weed money," Natalie rationalized.

CHAPTER 23.

Misty waited patiently for Gavin's tears to subside, watching as he dabbed his eyes and returned the handkerchief to his pocket. Deciding that he'd sufficiently pulled himself together, she addressed him.

"I've made a recent discovery," she said, gazing into Gavin's red-rimmed eyes. "It's a huge money-making venture."

"I already have money; I'm not interested in any venture, especially if it involves you giving public readings like a gypsy at a carnival," Gavin said with a look of repugnance.

Misty chose not to take offense to the verbal jab, at least not at the moment. She'd pay him back for insulting her when he least expected it. At present, she needed him to be on her side.

"Your income, though immense, is doled out to you on a semi-annual basis. Wouldn't it be awesome to earn billions of your own?"

"Billions?" he asked with a smirk. "I doubt if there are any clairvoyant billionaires."

"I'll be the first," Misty said confidently. "I've made a recent discovery that will rock the world, but I don't want to go public, and that's where you come in. Through your family's connections, you have access to some of the wealthiest people in the world. I plan to do business with only the affluent; I want a select and very elite clientele."

"You can't be serious. You expect me to contact business tyc.o.o.ns from the Forbes Billionaire List and tell them about your marvelous ability to see into the future? A nebulous future without any sense of a time frame, I might add," he said sarcastically. Frowning in disapproval, Gavin made a scoffing sound.

"I have more than the ability to foretell the future. I have exactly what the filthy rich are not able to buy," Misty said knowingly.

"And what might that be?" Gavin gave a weary sigh. "Love? That's such a cliche. Believe me, money can buy you a wonderful illusion of love, and with that in mind, I've decided to self-medicate my love sickness by taking a solo trip to Brazil. I'm sure I'll meet a buff young, hottie on the beach-someone who'll take my mind off Randolph for a while. That's the kind of instant gratification that money can buy."

"I can offer something much more lasting." Misty gripped the arms of the wheelchair and slowly, dramatically pushed herself up until she was standing upright.

"You...you're standing. How is that possible?" Gavin stammered, his face suddenly deathly pale. Stunned to the point of shaking, his trembling fingers began to fidget with his collar, and then the b.u.t.tons of his crisp, light-blue s.h.i.+rt. "I don't understand how you're managing to stand."

Showing off, Misty took graceful steps and even twirled around.

"I knew you had some movement in your arms, but I thought you were completely paralyzed from the waist down." Gavin's vocal tone changed from shocked to indignant, as if Misty had been faking her inability to walk.

"The medical profession couldn't do anything for me. Doctors said I was doomed to sit in this disgusting chair for the rest of my life..." She paused and angrily gave the chair a hard shove, knocking it on its side. "But I cured myself." She stretched out her arms. "With these hands, I'm able to heal. People spend fortunes going to fake-a.s.s healers. I've done my research and I know what I'm talking about. Sites of so-called healing water springs and wells are scattered all over the world, and hordes of desperate people travel far and wide to get the magical water to rid themselves of AIDS, cancer, blindness, all types of maladies. I read online that up to ten thousand people a day visit this place in Mexico. They stand in long lines for hours to get a bottle of the supposedly miracle water. They're fools, but that's on them. Initially, I wanted a mega church that would attract thousands for readings. But after acquiring this new ability, I decided to cut to the chase. Instead of exhausting myself with all the work involved in building a following, and getting a lot of small sums of money from the working stiffs, I'm going to offer my services only to the super-rich and get paid a big chunk of their ever-acc.u.mulating wealth."

Misty sat on the couch. Wearing a smirk, she faced Gavin, leaned back and crossed her legs. Watching him closely, she noticed a spark of interest in his eyes.

"This may be a great idea," he said, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"It's an amazing idea. Go on and admit it," she said with teasing laughter. "Even the richest of the rich get sick. And they want a quick cure for what ails them and their loved ones. The starting price of my cure will be one million and upward, depending on the severity of the illness."

"Okay, I'm interested. But I need to know that you can really heal before I put the word out. Also, you and I have to legalize our partners.h.i.+p."

"You better pump your brakes, Gavin. I didn't say anything about a partners.h.i.+p."

"You couldn't possibly think I'm going to hand over an elite clientele out of the kindness of my heart. I've already paid to restore your beauty, and I didn't ask for anything in return except to learn the whereabouts of Randolph, and you've failed to hold up your end of the bargain."

"You didn't do anything out of the kindness of your heart. You want me to be your personal fortune teller, but you had ulterior motives, also."

"I did not!"

"Yes, you did. You're so fastidious and squeamish, you wouldn't have been able to look at me without having to fight the urge to vomit, so don't pretend that you're all merciful and full of grace, because you're not."

Gavin lowered his eyes guiltily. "Okay, I admit that when I saw the picture on your website with your face caved in on one side, you were an eyesore, Misty. It would have been extremely difficult to look at you without gagging. But despite my motive, I helped you. You can't deny that."

"You're absolutely right, and that's why I'm going to pay you ten percent of my earnings."

Gavin opened his mouth to protest, but Misty shut him up before he could speak. "Hey, ten percent of a billion dollars is a lot of paper, so don't turn your nose up."

He leaned forward in his seat. "Do you honestly expect to make a billion dollars?"

"Several billion," Misty said smugly. "I'd be one of the new billionaires featured on next year's Forbes list if I was willing to go public, but I'm not trying to put myself out there like that. I'm not trying to give Uncle Sam a cut of my hard-earned money."

Gavin nodded while deep in thought. "I have an aunt who's suffering from Alzheimer's. She doesn't recognize her own children, and it breaks their hearts. Do you think you could reverse the effects of that disease, and you know, give her back her mental faculties?"

"I'm positive. But I'm not giving away any family freebies. Your aunt has to come out of her pocket, like everyone else."

"But she's not capable of handling financial affairs."

"Get the money from her kids."

"That's not possible. Her children-my cousins-have their own inheritance and their mother's money is being handled by the executors of the Stallings estate. I couldn't possibly convince them to write a large check-"

"I don't accept checks. I need my money in cash," Misty said with an excessive frown.

"Cash? You're being completely unreasonable. This business venture doesn't have to be handled like an illegal drug operation, you know. There are ways to get around the IRS. We can set ourselves up as a religious organization or a nonprofit group."

"There you go with that 'we' s.h.i.+t. Ain't no we! You work for me, Gavin, and I call all the shots. That nonprofit mess you're talking will involve attorneys and a whole bunch of other people wanting a piece of my pie. That is not gonna happen. If those rich m.u.t.h.af.u.c.kas want what I can offer, then they better make a huge withdrawal out of their Swiss bank accounts."

Gavin sighed heavily. "You're impossible, Misty. You seemed so sweet when I first met you, but now your true colors are showing. You're greedy, mean, and narcissistic." He shook his head. "I'm not surprised that someone tried to take your life."

"Since you want to be mean and insulting, I'll take back my generous offer. I don't need you to generate business. I figured I would expedite matters by having a member of the prestigious Stallings family as my mouthpiece, but you know what? f.u.c.k you, Gavin! The billionaire list is public information, and I'm perfectly capable of seeking out every person on that list on my own."

Gavin resorted to tears again. "I want to be a part of this. I spoke out of anger and I apologize," he whined, pulling his monogrammed hanky from his pocket, again. "I'm tired of living on a stipend from my family. It's demoralizing. I tried to make it as an artist, but I failed. I know I could succeed as a..." Gavin went silent. "What is my job t.i.tle, exactly?"

"If I decide to hire you, you'll be my a.s.sistant."

"a.s.sistant? That sounds so lowly. I need a much more prestigious t.i.tle."

"How about director of life enrichment?"

Gavin smiled. "Hmm. I like that."

"Good, glad you like it. Okay, so, you're hired, but only on a trial basis. Use your resources to get me wealthy clients, and please use discretion. Clients don't need to know my full government name; they can simply refer to me as Misty."