Wifey: Part 2

His lawyer nodded. Then he asked him where he went.

“I was in Vegas.”

“By yourself?”

“Nah. With my lady.”

Ron nodded. “And you don’t know nothing about this, right?”

“Only what the streets is saying. But I ain’t got nothing to do with that shit. I ain’t gonna sanction my own crib to get ran into and shot up.”

“All right.” Ron stood up and went to the door and motioned for the detectives to come in.

“You’re holding my client, and you didn’t charge him with anything? What the fuck is this?”

“We didn’t arrest him. We just want to question him,” the lead white detective replied.

“Don’t play games with me. I know who arrested him. They arrested him on your department’s request,” Ron shot back as he stood in his three-thousand-dollar tailor-made Italian suit, looking like he was about to give closing arguments in a courtroom.

“Ron, look. We got a murder that took place within our jurisdiction at your client’s residence. We want to ask him questions pertaining to that.”

“No. What you want to do is swoop down on my client while he’s getting off the plane and make a dramatic arrest and then question him and get him to confess to a crime that he had nothing to do with, just so you can have him do a perp walk out of this precinct with the news cameras flashing. That’s what you really want.”

Nico sat back. His lawyer was worth every dime he paid him.

The detective was about to say something, and Ron cut him off.

“Look, are you charging my client with murder or what? If not, then what the fuck are we doing here?”

“We just want to question him.”

“You lost that right with the dramatic way you guys

decided to handle things. My client isn’t talking.”

This was what the detectives feared, and that’s why they didn’t want Nico to lawyer up. The lead detective knew he was stuck. He looked at his partner for help.

“Ron, we’re not playing hardball, we just want to question your client. But we can play hardball and lock your client up on a conspiracy charge.”

Ron shook his head and smiled. “My client was nowhere in the vicinity of New York when the crimes in question took place, and he can prove that. Now, unless you gentlemen have direct eyewitness testimony and statements that implicate my client in a conspiracy of any kind, then I think he’s free to go.”

The detectives looked at each other, stumped.

“Nico, you’re free. Let’s go,” Ron said, and the two of them walked out of the interrogation room.

Nico wanted to retrieve his belongings before his lawyer drove him to meet up with BJ. He let the racist Port Authority cop, who was still sitting at his desk doing paperwork, know that he needed his stuff.

Now that an attorney accompanied Nico, the slick racist talk was no longer coming out of the cop’s mouth. The cop retrieved Nico’s things.

After Nico gathered his stuff and put away his cash and his wallet, he said to the cop, “Remember, it’s nigga, not nigger. You gotta add more ga into it, you feel me?”

He watched the cop turn red, then patted him on the shoulder. “I’m just fuckin’ wit’chu, man. Be easy,” he said, a sinister smile on his face.

Ten

While all kinds of drama was going on in New York, Mia was living it up twenty-five hundred miles away in Las Vegas. Although Nico wasn’t with her to help her enjoy the good life, that didn’t stop her. If she wasn’t at the Encore spa getting a massage, she was at the Wynn spa getting a manicure and a pedicure. And when she wasn’t pampering herself at the various spas, she was splurging on herself inside Alexander McQueen or buying a dress from the Chanel store. Between spending time at the Hermes, Dior, Graff Diamonds, and Louis Vuitton stores, Mia was in heaven and felt like a walking orgasm.

There was so much to do to keep her busy, she actually thought it was a blessing in disguise that Nico had flown back to New York because she knew all he would have wanted to do was gamble and fuck.