Low Down and Dirty by Vickie M. Stringer

Author:Vickie M. Stringer
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atria Books

C H A P T E R T W E N T Y-S I X

A month later Red didn’t even know if it was safe to go back to her room at the Flamingo. All of Motown seemed to be moving on her. How the fuck were they tracking her? And how far did they have her narrowed down? Vegas, the Strip, the Flamingo, her room number?

Not her room number. Not as of the time she left Black’s ass at the Bellagio casino at any rate. If Black or any other nigga had known that much, he’d have kicked in her door and taken her down already. But how did Black know she’d be in the Bellagio that night? Maybe he’d just been checking all the joints up and down the Strip and just gotten lucky. There was another alternative, but Red didn’t even want to think about that.

The only person she knew in Vegas—the only one who could have dimed her—was Meme. But that just couldn’t be. Meme had taught her so much and helped her get what she needed to survive. If Meme wanted to betray her, she could have done it days ago. Besides, why would she? Money? Could Black and his runnin’ partners have put a bounty out on her? Possibly. After all, Meme was a straight player.

She thought about all the bitches she herself had stabbed in the back. But that had been business. If a bitch messed with you, you had to fuck her over. Red hadn’t messed with Meme. Then again, what did she know about Meme? Maybe she was Kera’s cousin out for payback. Bitch, you just gettin’ too paranoid now, she thought. There ain’t no muthafuckin’ way Kera and Meme came from the same bloodline. Besides, Meme knew her room number. If she had put Black on her plans for the Bellagio, why not just point him to the room itself?

In the end, it didn’t really matter. Bottom line, she couldn’t completely trust Meme or anyone else at this point. But she was confident that her room was not blown. Yet. And she had cash stashed up there from the scams she and Meme had put down. Lots of cash.

She decided she had to risk going back to her room to collect it, along with her clothes, but she needed to be careful about it. She wasn’t going to hang around. She had a cab driver drop her two blocks past the hotel, then she walked back. She entered through a side door and spent ten minutes surveying the lobby to make sure there were no Detroit niggas creeping around. Then she took the elevator up, got off two floors above her room, and took the stairs back down. She scooped everything into a single suitcase as quickly as she could. The cash she kept in the same Louis Vuitton bag she’d been carrying when she first met Meme. If she got caught out in the open and it turned into a foot chase, she could take the Louis Vuitton with her.

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