Lipstick and I, Judas

By Xlibris US

In Lipstick, enjoy the fast pace adventures of an orphan child that rose to the heights of wealth only after she killed two people. It was with that birth that she discovered her true calling, her real purpose in life. Her lipstick-coated beauty takes murder and revenge to the ultimate level that will leave you guessing to the climatic end. It will have you speechless, excited, and wanting more.

Then as you come down from that story, SaBrowny Rae takes you right back up again with I, Judas. A powerful story of a bloodthirsty, sexually sadistic demon let out of hell with the sole purpose of creating more of his kindcreatures that would live on the life force of mankind. He becomes bent on capturing the woman of his desires as a team of unlikely people form to attempt to stop his pursuits and send him back to the darkest corner of hell. Entertaining in a way that will push your imagination to its limits.

Come join SaBrowny Rae as she invites you to meet her at the back door.

SaBrowny Rae is a vivid storyteller that will entertain you in the same way that she grew up. When on any given summer night, one would find the neighborhood children on the back porch, intensely listening to the latest story. She weaves two fast-paced novels that will leave you wanting more.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jul 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499037241

Book preview

53733.png

Chapter One

Zion was early. She loved to arrive before anyone else did at her office. She basked in the quiet and sat looking out the picture window that allowed her to look over the Manhattan skyline with the rising sun in the background. She loved New York. She was a native and could never get enough of her larger-than-life city. She put her high-heel-clad feet up on her desk and sipped her hot cup of green tea. She had given up coffee yet again but still needed that warm cup of peace first thing in the morning. The green tea still didn’t do the job for her, and she longed for a Starbucks grande caramel macchiato. Still she was not going to let the lack of her favorite beverage change her great mood.

Today she was meeting with one of her biggest clients and her best friend. Being the lawyer, manager, and business agent for many of the rising movie stars, music divas, models, and the biggest names in sports had afforded her and her partners with a great lifestyle. While many felt that she was only a person living off the fame of others, she knew that she worked hard for her 20 percent. She woke early and went home late to make sure her clients had the best deals and the most work that they could handle. Her reputation came from blood, sweat, and many nights of tears, but she never let her clients down. They could depend on her. Her name alone was now on the lips of many would-be famous people because they knew what she could do for them. She looked out of the picture window of the building that she owned.

Only she knew that one day she would rise to this level. What black American female other than the great Oprah Winfrey could achieve a level of this magnitude? She was a self-made woman in a world of vultures. She was a smart businesswoman, and after she made a name with a little-known model who happened to be her childhood friend and foster sister, together they took fashion modeling past the supermodel. She was sought after by people from all walks of life so she could change their lives, bringing them to the top levels in their fields. Zion completed her law degree with honors and opened her own practice at once. She went to the right parties and places where she could make the proper connections. She talked with all she could and brokered the best deals for her clients.

Today’s client was the hottest singer that had hit the scene since Beyoncé or Mary J. Blige. Liberty only wanted to have the Zion Crest Agency to represent her. She was energetic, talented, and took the music scene by storm. During that time, she had met many agents that attempted to take advantage and a manager who did not understand the business that she was in. She signed with Zion and now she was the biggest name in the industry—maybe only Lady Gaga commanded more of a worldwide audience. Her latest project would put her before the cameras in Hollywood, and she needed advice on the type of movies that she wanted to be a part of.

Since the Zion Crest Agency could do it all, Zion was going to look over the studio’s contracts as her legal representative. Zion knew that she had hours before she had to meet with Liberty so she willed herself to think of other things besides the work at hand. She looked into the fading stars as morning light began to drift into her building. Zion said a prayer of thanksgiving for her many blessings. How she had risen to the top, as she had at such a young age, coming from her background, always gave her a sense of gratitude. She thought about her foster care family. When she arrived there, she was afraid and so alone. Her birth mother had abandoned her, and she was found hungry, dirty, and sick on the streets of New York City. A church worker just happened to stumble upon Zion as the worker was en route to her church and called the authorities at once.

Zion was taken to a shelter where they cleaned her up and fed her, and she was taken to the hospital, where she showed early signs of pneumonia. From that point in time, the city’s social services stepped in and she was placed into the system. She had been one of the lucky ones. She was placed in the home of a pastor, his wife, and his daughter. They had wanted other children but were not able to have any. Zion was a couple of years older than their daughter and thought that she would be a great companion. They homeschooled both of the girls, and they found out how bright Zion was. Her foster father gave her the name Zion. Her birth name was Allison Jackson. Once they decided to adopt her and the judge asked what she wanted her name to be, she asked if she could change her entire name. That’s when she became Zion Crest. She never forgot that day and the celebration that Pastor Wilbert Crest and Lady Mama Trudy put on for her. She had cake and ice cream and presents. Pastor Wilbert informed her that from that day on, she was now their very own daughter. No one could take her away from them again.

She and Vashti danced around the room, singing that they were now real sisters. She was so happy and made sure that the Crest family would never regret making her their daughter. She excelled in her studies and was an ideal child. She was an active part of her adopted father’s church. She was a great big sister to Vashti, and she was the first to point out how stunningly beautiful Vash really was. Vashti from that point was groomed for modeling, and Zion was groomed for scholarly pursuits. Both played out to their advantage. Pastor Wilbert and Lady Trudy had been killed in a freak auto accident when the girls were in their early twenties, and that’s when Zion took over running their lives. She groomed Vashti into the world’s top model, and she invested into her line of clothing and cosmetics. Vash was a recurring judge for one of the modeling reality TV shows that took local girls and guys and turned them into the next big name in the world of modeling.

Vashti’s brand had long been established, and she owed it all to her sister Zion. The memories had Zion looking at the pictures on her desk. There was Pastor Wilbert and Lady Mama Trudy both smiling at her at her law school graduation. The other one was of her and Vashti hugging and smiling after Vash landed her first European runway job. She looked at the contrast in their skins. The difference between them never ceased to amaze her, yet they were both considered beautiful. Vashti had thick, curly shoulder-length jet-black hair that had a natural shine and sheen to it. Her skin tone was as dark and smooth as the finest dark Swiss chocolate. She had the most amazing eyes that one could imagine. She had bright blue eyes. Many people had stopped her and asked if her eye color was real.

For the longest time, it brought shame to Vashti that anyone would think that she had contacts in, but that was before she and Zion became sisters. Zion had taught her to embrace her beauty and not to allow anyone to make her feel bad for her natural looks. No one knew where Vashti got her eye color. Neither Pastor Wilbert nor Lady Mama Trudy had a hint of color in theirs. Both had dark brown eyes. It was said that Vash’s eye color was just a freak of nature and what God wanted her to have. Vashti had a true model’s body; she was tall, at five foot eleven, and had legs that never stopped. She did not have curves, so anything that she wore hung well on her. She could eat a house and not gain a pound. She had a natural runway walk and photographed well. Her smile was brilliant, and to top it off, she could speak as if she was a college scholar. She was the total package yet a very humble girl.

Zion, on the other hand, was a different type of beauty. She was a light-honey-brown-skinned girl. While shorter than Vash, she still had some height to her. She was five foot nine and had the curvy body of a black American woman. She had the hourglass form with large breasts, a tiny waist, and nice hips. She had the bottom that many women were going hard at the gym to achieve And a pair of legs that worked the heels that she loved to wear. She wore her hair below her shoulders in curly locs. She loved the ethnic look, and she was known for her many unique styles. She had light hazel- brown eyes that had a twinkle to them and full luscious lips. She was pretty, and with her higher-than-most intellect, it made her beautiful. Zion was confident in her own skin and could be ruthless when it came to the management of her clients.

The Crest girls were a pair to reckon with, and they never let anyone come between them. While they had been brought up in a Christian home, both had let most of their early training go to the wayside. She picked up the picture of her adopted parents and kissed it as she did often. The imprint of her pink lipstick left her kiss right where it always was. She then picked up the picture of her lovely sister and kissed her side of the picture. She made sure that she kissed them every morning and let them know that they were loved. She was forever grateful for the life that she had received from their kindness. She would never forget, and she would always be in their debt.

Zion took a sip of her green tea again and was done. She got up and walked to the little kitchenette in her large office. Enough was enough; she was going to have a cup of coffee. What was the point of working so hard and not enjoying the little things? As her coffee brewed, the aroma immediately gave her comfort, and she knew that this day in her great city she would have another wonderful day.

The taxi pulled up to the enormous Catholic church, and Lipstick paid the driver and left him with a generous tip. She got out and knew that she made quite the scene as she walked into the church dressed in red from head to toe. She had made arrangements earlier to meet with the priest and informed him that this would be an all-day confession. He stated that he had to schedule his time in order to accommodate her needs, but he would be glad to do it. Especially when she told him that she planned to leave the church a very large donation in the one-hundred-thousand dollar range. This perked up his superior’s ears, and the priest was hers for as long as she wanted to have him.

Oh, how she wanted to have him. She had waited too long for this, and she was going to take her time. Since he knew who she was, he wanted to meet in his office, but she insisted on the confessional. She wanted the full drama of them talking with the little curtained wall and window between them. She watched the older man approach her. She saw at once the look of manly lust in his eyes. He liked what he saw. She smiled and walked up to him. Father, right on time. I like that in a man. As you well know, time is so valuable, and I would not want to miss one second of our meeting. He looked at her with a strange look and was at a momentary loss for words, but he recovered quickly and responded after clearing his voice. Please excuse me, miss. I’m sorry, all I have noted on this card is the name Lipstick. This must be an oversight of some sort. What is your name, dear?

You were right the first time, Father. It is just that—Lipstick. As I stated before, time is important, and we have a lot of confession to cover, so shall we begin? Once again, the priest was taken for a loop and wondered how long this harlot of a woman in red would demand of his time. His superiors told him that he had no choice in the matter and to give her what she wanted. For a poor parish, the sum of money that she would leave with them could keep the church running for over a year. He turned and walked toward the little confessionals. In a way, he was so glad he would not have to see her face during their time together. He was glad she would not see the effect her presence had on his body. As he sat down on his side, he had to take his hand and place it on his own manly parts. They had come alive, and he could not control them. All he could think of were those full red lips and he had to fight to prevent release. Then he heard the husky voice and stopped dead in his tracks. This was going to be a long day, and he had no idea how he would make it. Thank God for the curtain wall between them and the little window that only allowed him to see the full red lips.

He could take care of his own needs discreetly and no one would be the wiser. Again, he was pulled out of his lust when he heard the voice that would change his life forever.

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned … really sinned!

53740.png

Chapter Two

The pictures on his kill board were beginning to blur. He had been at it all night, and now morning had set in. He could not drink another cup of coffee. Nor could he stand to read another sentence. He had to throw in the towel and call it a day. He would go home, shower, and then just sleep. He had a free day coming, and as he listened to his body, he knew that today would be the day that he took it. No one, not even his mother, told him there would be days and nights like this. He had to laugh at his own thoughts. He always knew that in order to make it in the FBI as a black man he would have to pull double duty. It didn’t matter that he was a mixed child. It never mattered that his skin was as white as most Caucasian men. All that mattered was that his father was black, and that made him black too. In the Bureau, all they saw was the fact that you were not part of the old boy club, and you were not going to get in even if you were a top honors graduate of Harvard.

It always made him proud that he, an army brat, had gone to that school and did so well. He knew that his admiral father would not have it any other way, and while he had wanted the military for him, he was satisfied with the FBI. His mother, on the other hand, just wanted him happy and content. She was a good lady, and she never saw color; she only saw God and the good in people. In fact, right now he could hear her voice getting on him about not sleeping or eating properly. She had been a stay-at-home mom and devoted all of her time and attention to her husband and son. She could not have any more children no matter how hard she attempted, and this left her depressed and moody.

When he moved out and went away to college, she had nothing to do and began to drink secretly. This drinking took a toll on her health, and she died in his second year at Harvard of cirrhosis of the liver. His father moved on with his life and married his high school sweetheart, who had been a widow. It felt funny to see his father with a woman of color, however, she was a great lady and sweet too. Overall, he had a good life and family. Roman smiled as he walked down memory lane but knew that it was the lack of sleep that caused him to be thinking in that way.

He got up and collected his materials. He knew that he would stay home, but he also knew that after sleep, he would get back to the task at hand. Special Agent Roman Elisha Allen, it’s time for you to take your sleepy and useless body home, he said to himself. He started walking out of his office and locked the door. He smiled again as he looked at his tiny office. He saw his name on the door and read his title. FBI profiler. That was him, all right. That was what he did—attempted to figure out what made these sick creeps tick. Not as romantic and exciting as TV made it out to be. Just long hours looking at the handiwork of sickos, describing who that might be, and then trying to lock them up.

Roman walked down the hall to the elevator, already thinking about his free day. He would get in some sleep and then go to the gym. Nothing like a good workout that would put the fire back to his brain. He would make sure that his phone was off; he did not want to get a call in the middle of his day. As he thought about these facts, he keyed in on his cell phone a message to his director that he was taking his free day and that he would be checking messages later that day. As he stepped into the elevator, he knew that the message meant nothing. Director Logan Sam Peyton would call him in or come and bring him in if he really wanted to so this was just a courtesy.

Roman got off the elevator and walked out of the main doors. The sun was just rising and the air in New York City was fresh and clean. For a town that never slept, this was maybe the only time of day that you would not see many people out. He loved his adopted city, and he loved the fact that it kept him very busy. He decided to walk to his loft, which was about twelve city blocks away. He knew that by the time he arrived home, he would indeed be sleepy enough to enjoy his shower and nap. Roman looked into the sky as if to plead directly to God. Please, Lord, not today. I really do need a day off. Keep the crazies at home. He laughed loudly as the couple of people walking on the same street looked at him as if he was one of the crazies. He knew that they didn’t care; they just wanted to make sure no one was trying to attack them.

Roman just strolled home feeling happy and content.

"Father I have been a bad girl for a very long time. I have not been to confession for over twenty years, and now I do feel the need to let you know just what I’ve been doing. Relax, Father, because you may need to take a break or two. This won’t go quickly, so I don’t want you to feel rushed."

God knows all, my child, and you don’t have to tell me every detail of your life.

That’s where you are wrong, dear Father. I do have to tell you. There is no way for me to be absolved without you understanding everything there is to know. So, dear Father, open your ears and your heart, and remember, whatever I tell you is between you and me. I am in confession, and that’s exactly what I’m about to do … confess!

Lipstick started laughing, a husky sexy laugh that started the fires burning once again in the old priest’s loins. He didn’t know how to recover and had to fake a cough so that he could clear his emotions in order to speak. Miss, you have all the time you need, and I am a man of the cloth, so anything you say to me during this confession is held in strict confidence. If you are ready, you may begin at any time.

I am ready, Father, and I will start at the beginning.

Lipstick crossed her legs and leaned back in the booth. She made sure she had direct eye contact with the priest at all times. She made sure that he could see her full red lips. She never wanted him to stop staring at those lips. She smiled and then just began to talk about herself. She had no intentions of leaving anything out.

"Father, I was the only child of an unwed mother and had a very religious grandmother . . ."

Wake up, you lazy thing. I don’t have time to deal with you this morning. I have to go to work and then to church. I have to pray for you, child, because I have been hit by the enemy. He has come into my house, and I have been given this lazy whore of a child who goes out and gets herself pregnant. Girl, all I can do is pray for you and ask God to clean your worthless soul. As soon as you have that demon from hell, you have to leave my house. Now get up and get this house cleaned up. I’m having people over this weekend for our women’s Bible study, and we have a lot of work to do. I expect you to clean this place from top to bottom. This weekend I don’t care where you go, but I don’t want your worthless bottom here making me look like a bad mother. Take your disgraceful pregnant self somewhere, and if you choose never to return, I will be very happy about that. Lord, Lord, I have to pray for this girl!

The young mother sat up on the cot that she slept in. Her mother would no longer allow her to sleep in her bed or have the room that was once hers. Since she became with child, her mother treated her as if she was the scum of the earth. She was sick of hearing about what a whore she was and that she had to pray for her. Everybody wanted her to tell who the father of her child was. She swore that she would never tell. He was a good and kind man, a man that would honor her if he could. It was his circumstances that prevented him from being with her. He could not marry her because of that. She would not let her mother and their busybody church hurt him because he could not help himself for falling in love with her.

She had contacted him about her pregnancy, and he promised to help her. Now was the time to leave her mother’s wicked and hypocritical house. He had sent her money, and she was going to buy a train ticket. She would contact him when she arrived in New York. She knew once she got there that everything would be all right for her and her baby. He would solve his situation and then marry her. She jumped up just as she heard her mother pull off. She washed herself and packed a quick lunch. She had no intentions of slaving away in that house, cleaning for her lazy mother. All she ever did was go to work and to church then brag about what a great Christian she was.

She was the only one that knew how evil her mother really was. She was mean and surly and only went to church to gain the attention of the pastor. She knew that he had come to their home and he had sexual relations with her mother. Yet her mother was the best friend of the church’s first lady. Hypocrite indeed! She packed her shabby belongings and called a taxi. She had more than $3,000 dollars, and it would last her for a short period until she got settled in New York. She would show her lover how good she was with his money and what a wonderful person she was. She picked up her little cardboard suitcase, and before she walked out to the taxi, she wrote on her mother’s precious new kitchen countertops that the good old pastor had installed after his weekly sexual favors.

She wrote in the bold color of her Bemine Vintage-Inspired Enchanting Lipstick, Noir Red, all over her counter. She wanted her mother to know it was she who did it and nobody else. Her mother always complained that the lipstick she wore was only for whores. She wrote in her best penmanship:

I will pray for you … you whore!

Then she walked out the door and slammed it shut, never to return again.

Lipstick took a pause in her storytelling for a short moment. Father, could you get me some water? I’m getting so dry, and I have so much more to tell.

Yes, my dear, he stated. Her voice and luscious red lips had him so overcome that he needed a reason to go and relieve himself. You can come out of the booth and walk around for a while as I go and get your water.

Thank you, Padre. I think I will.

Lipstick got up from her seat and stepped into the sanctuary and began to pace back and forth. She noticed how everyone looked at her and didn’t care. What she noticed the most was how the good old priest could not take his eyes off her as he walked across the room to go and get her water. She stopped and reached into her purse. She pulled out her tube of Noir Red lipstick and slowly reapplied a full coat to her lips. She watched the priest run into the office area as if he was going to explode.

She laughed loudly until she cried. She didn’t care if she disturbed the other parishioners from their prayers. She knew that they were all liars and fakes and that their prayers were selfish and phony. She turned and switched back into the confessional as she awaited her dear priest so she could continue with her story.

Yes, this had been a long time coming and worth every moment!

53744.png

Chapter Three

Liberty the Great had arrived. Zion didn’t have to be told because this girl knew how to make an entrance. She had been on the phone talking to her sister. Hey, Vash, she’s here. When are you flying home?

Zion, I should get in on Friday.

Then I will pick you up from the airport.

No, baby, you don’t have to. I will just meet you back at your place. Then we both can attend the gala on Saturday.

Are you sure, Vashy?

You haven’t called me that in years. I am very sure. See you soon. And I love you, sis.

Love you too, and see you Friday. You will always be my Vashy!

You will always be my Zi-Zi. The girls laughed at their old pet names as they hung up. Zion had to take a couple of breaths because she knew there would be no more air when Liberty came into the room. She kept her smile on her face as her door swung open wide with a tornado-force whirlwind.

Zionnnnnnnnnnnnn! Liberty yelled as if everyone was deaf. I am so excited! Aren’t you? Liberty came over and gave Zion the biggest hug and a kiss on the cheek. She was just too much. Not big as a mouse but so energetic. She was very cute, and today she wore a pink wig with white tips that hung down her back. She had on a black jumpsuit and pink boots that had to be at least eight inches high. This made her height at least five feet nine inches from her regular frame of five foot five. She was a light-skinned black beauty, and her smooth skin glowed. She reminded Zion of her own sister in that respect. She had raven eyes with bits of some color and full lips. She had a voice that would make grown men weep and ladies scream. She also could play a mean piano and wrote her own lyrics and music. She was a smart little chick and had a good accountant head on her shoulders. Zion liked this fireball a lot and wanted to do right by her, as she did with all of her clients.

Liberty, how can we help you today?

Zion, I’m really not feeling this movie thing. I read over the script, and something is bothering me. I can’t put my finger on it, and I just wanted to run it by you. I know this should be the next step in my career, but for some reason I don’t want to go with this.

Are you afraid, Liberty?

I’m not sure. We are going to speak with the director at the gala. Maybe with you there, I can get a better feel on the project. What do you think?

No problem. We can go together if you want, and I will be with you when you talk with the director. Vashti is flying in on Friday, and she will be attending as well.

Oh great! I haven’t seen Vash in a while. Heard that she is loving Europe and hosting that show is reviving her career again. You don’t have to pick me up, I have to see a man about a dog … if you know what I mean, and then I will come from there. They both began to laugh. Zion knew well what she meant. She had a hot date with one of her boy toys, and then she would show up fashionably late for the gala.

OK, girl. Is there anything else pressing that we need to go over?

Yes, I want you to take a look at this. First, don’t get mad. I had another attorney draft this, and the reasons are obvious. Zion was just about to say something but thought that she should read the document first and then get her later. As she speed-read the paper, her eyes grew big. She looked up at Liberty and saw the smirk on her face. Liberty, what is the meaning of this?

Aw, come on, smart girl, it’s obvious. You are my beneficiary. If anything happens to me, it all goes to you.

But why? Don’t you have any relatives or a lover or someone else?

Nope and you and Vashti have been my only family. I just feel that I need to do this.

OK, but the good thing is you are young and have many years to get on my last nerve, and you came close to me pounding you for using another lawyer. However, I see why you couldn’t use me. So are we done here?

Yep.

Then let’s go hit the best restaurant in the city. The ladies jumped up and grabbed their purses. This was really what Liberty wanted every now and then—she had to spend time with Zion so her feet could touch solid ground again. As they walked out of her office, Zion let her administrative assistant know that she was gone for the day.

Lipstick reached through the tiny window that was between them in the confessional. As she reached for her water, she made sure that she touched his hand with her silk-clad red glove. She could feel him stir once contact was made. She smiled and licked her freshly painted red lips. She saw his vivid blue eyes water, and she knew she had him. Silly old man, she thought, this was too easy, but she was not about to let him off the hook. Shall we continue, dear Father, where I left off? she asked with a voice that sounded as if she was a purring kitten. He cleared his throat again and knew that he would have to take another break soon before he became unglued. Yes, my dear, you may begin again.

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. She loved to say this. She loved the reaction that she got from him every time she said those words. She also loved the way that it stirred up her spirit every time she said it as well. As I was saying …

The train ride was longer than she thought, but her excitement in being free at last allowed her to enjoy every moment of it. She thought about how her mother would react when she saw her precious counters all written on with her lipstick. She prayed that the color would never come out. She took her hand and rubbed her belly. She was not showing just yet but knew that it would not be long before she would not be able to hide her condition to the world. She knew by then she would be able to be a wife and a mother. She felt her abdomen and also made sure that her money was still well hidden. She felt as if she was a real tourist when she reached the city. The buildings were amazing, and there were so many people. It was nothing like the one-stoplight hick Alabama town that she grew up in, and she was happy to leave all that behind her now. It always amazed her that her love was stuck in that town anyway.

She was so busy leaving her mother’s hateful home that it didn’t dawn on her to find a place to stay. She didn’t want to spend too much of her money. She thought that maybe she should call her baby’s father when she got off of the train and see if he had a place for her to go to. Her train pulled into the depot, and she got off with her small bag. She pulled out the number from her purse and went to the payphone. She called and asked for him. She held her breath as she waited to hear his voice. It had been so long since they were together, and she could not wait to see him again. Hello, the voice that made her drop to her knees spoke. Hello to you. It’s me, and guess what? I’m, or shall I say we, are in New York.

What … what are you doing here?

I’m here to be with you. You don’t sound too happy to hear from me.

To be with me. Woman, have you lost your mind? You know that could never be. I sent you the money for the abortion … I pray that you got it.

Abortion … abortion! she screamed. What do you mean by that? I thought the money was for us to live off until we got together. Are you telling me you don’t want me and the baby?

You are such a thick-headed hick. What made you think I would want anything with you except some sex every now and then? You are nothing but a slut, and I really don’t want any part of you. Do not ever call or contact me again. If you do, I will have you beaten and arrested. He slammed the phone down in her ear, and she stood in the phone booth, crying. She had no idea what or where she would go and what she would do. She knew she could not go back to her mother’s home.

She went over and found a seat and just cried. It never dawned on her that he didn’t love her. She felt like such a fool. She was too far gone to get an abortion, and she just couldn’t bring herself to think of doing anything of the sort. She sat crying and feeling lost when she heard a male voice speak to her. Don’t cry, little lady, it can’t be that bad. She looked up and she saw a black man dressed in the finest and fanciest clothing that she ever seen. She thought maybe he was a movie star or something. Oh yes, sir, it’s very bad. He sat down beside her and picked up her hand. He began to caress it lightly. Now just tell old Melvin what your problem is.

Before she knew it she had cried the entire story out to him. She never saw his smiling face. If she had she would have seen the face of a devil looking at her. When she said that she had over $3,000 dollars and didn’t have a place to live, his eyes lit up. Awwwww, don’t worry, apple dumpling. Old, Melvin is going to take care of you and that little baby you have growing inside of you. One man’s garbage is another man’s gain. Now let me take you home. She did not hesitate and went right home with him. She thought when she left her mother’s home that she was jumping out of the frying pan but had not realized that she was now into the fire.

Lipstick stopped again and took a breath to calm herself down. She was feeling emotions that she had not felt in years. It was making her weak, and weakness was not what she wanted today. The priest did not say a word and just waited. She didn’t care how long he had to wait … she had waited for a long time herself, and he could wait just as she did. Father, I have much more to tell you, but I’m going to step out for a moment, I will be right back. You can go and jerk off again if you need to.

She heard him hiss in a breath, and she smiled as she walked away; she got just the reaction that she wanted to get out of him.

53748.png

Chapter Four

Special Agent Herbert Maddox stood looking at the body. It never ceased to amaze him what a killer would do. This was not good. This happened to be victim number 3, and that made it appear to be the work of a serial killer. The bad part was, now the case was no longer NYPD’s problem. They called him, so now the feds, which he was one, had to deal with it … the good part was that he got to work with his buddy and prime FBI profiler, good old Roman. He placed that call himself. He had talked to Roman earlier that day, and he told Maddox that he was going to sleep and take a free day. Roman stated that he was going to turn off his phone and sleep all day. Maddox couldn’t wait to call him. Mad … didn’t I tell you no calls? Man, I can’t believe that you called me on our homeboy line.

Maddox laughed into the phone as he listened to his best friend’s sleepy voice. Aw, come on, Roman, would I do that? Get your ‘I’m taking a free day’ self up and head on over to this address. We have another one, and now it’s official it’s a feds case, and it looks like we are dealing with a good old serial killer. Your type of work. I guess I’ll see you within the next hour or so … right?

No, you will see me in the next hour and a half! Roman slammed down the phone as he heard his best friend in the world laughing his heart out.

Lord, give me a break. I can’t believe I have to go in … really, God … really! Roman got out of the bed and knew that if Maddox called him, then he needed his work. They were great buds and went back a long way. Maddox was one of the best FBI special agents that was in New York and loved what he did. Roman showered and dressed as quickly as he could, then he grabbed a cup of coffee. This was the first thing in the morning for him since he didn’t go to bed until 10:00 a.m. Roman took one last look in the mirror. He took pride in how he presented himself.

He knew that he was a force to be reckoned with. He had his share of female admirers over the years. Roman stood six feet three inches tall. He was tall but not skinny. He was muscular and made sure that he kept his six-pack abs and muscular chest and arms by going to the gym daily. He had greenish-gray eyes with thick, curly black eyelashes. He had smooth, light-colored skin and a small goatee that his barber kept nice and trimmed. You would think that he was a real metrosexual, but then you looked at the hair that he wore in black locs that hung below his shoulders. He had on a custom-made gray suit with a black shirt and a black tie, with gray and tiny pink dots on it. He had straight white teeth and a smile that would light up a room, yet he was not conceited; he was just confident. He had an intellect that placed him above many of his peers and had his Harvard degree, which showed that he could hang with the best of the best. Roman was a package to be reckoned with.

He took his job seriously and was a national sought-after authority in his field. He could get into the mind of the socio/psychopath. From his knowledge, many serial murderers had been put into the best of the best federal prisons. However, right now all he wanted to do was go back home and crawl under the covers and then have his free day. As it was, he had a case on his desk that had been requested of him from Canada. They needed a profile on a predator that had been killing campers. That was the case that had him doing an all-night session and still he had not completed his work.

Nevertheless, he knew if Maddox called him personally, this one was bad. This case was personal because it was happening in their town. That was a no-no—not on their court. He and Maddox went back all the way to grade school. He was one of the first white kids that he bonded with. Mad, as Roman liked to call him, was one of the best baseball pitchers that he had ever met. They played on the same teams during his middle school and high school years. Major colleges had recruited Maddox, and he ended up going to school in Boston. They were still buddies while Roman was in Harvard, and when Maddox played with the Mets, he was a regular at all of the games. Maddox got his degree in criminal science and went right into the NYPD, and then they both joined the FBI. They continued to be boys and many times worked on the same cases. Maddox never allowed anyone to call him by his first name. When they first met as kids, he jumped into a fight when another kid and his friends started picking on him. Maddox fought as if he was a bull in heat. Roman jumped in when the odds were unfair.

The two of them beat the group down, and after the fight, Roman asked Maddox what started the fight. Maddox spoke as if it was the worst thing that could go wrong. He just simply stated, One of those kids called me Herbert. Roman had looked at him in shock after he spoke. But that is your name.

I know, but that does not mean that anyone but my mom can call me that. Roman had laughed at the feisty kid until he cried, and he and Maddox had been friends ever since. To this day, he never thought of him as Herbert Maddox, but just Maddox, or Mad, and right now Roman was pretty mad at his BFF.

Roman walked onto the crime scene and showed his credentials to the police officer that was at the door. He went under the crime scene tape. He grabbed a pair of surgical gloves and shoe covers and went into the room where Maddox was talking to the NYPD detectives. He watched Maddox turn and smile at him. He knew he would do his same old joke, one they had been doing for years. Excuse me, sir. You can’t be the famous Roman Allen of the FBI, the profiler of the criminally insane. We thought that guy was a white man.

Really? Roman responded. "And here I thought