Dirty Red: A Novel - Softcover

Stringer, Vickie M.

Softcover

ISBN 10: 074349363X ISBN 13: 9780743493635

Publisher: Atria Books, 2007

Synopsis

From the "queen of urban fiction" (Publishers Weekly), Vicki Stringer, comes a scorching tale of love, lies, loss, and the indomitable spirit of a woman scorned.

Mischievous and manipulative, eighteen-year-old Red is an expert at deception with a provocative femininity. She employs her dirty ways - even faking a pregnancy with her boyfriend - to win a closet full of Gucci bags, a deluxe condominium full of baby accessories, a new car, and a book deal. But when one of Red's scams backfires and she winds up truly pregnant by her inmate ex-boyfriend, Bacon, she finds herself in more trouble than she's ever known. The drama truly unravels when Red's picture-perfect cons fall apart due to the power of - surprisingly - love.

About this title

About the Author:

Vickie M. Stringer is the author of Essence bestsellers, including Imagine This, Let that Be the Reason, Dirty Red, Still Dirty, and Dirtier Than Ever. She is the publisher of Triple Crown publications, one of the most successful African American book publishers in the U.S. and abroad. She has been featured in such prominent news media as The New York Times, Newsweek, MTV News, Publishers Weekly, Vibe, Millionaire Blueprints, Writer's Newsweek, Black Expressions, and many more. She lives in Columbus, Ohio, with her two children.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

Chapter 1: Wifey

A little privacy, please?" Red lifted her right eyebrow as she studied Q, who was leaning against the granite-topped vanity in the oversized bathroom. She noticed how his hands were balled into fists -- fists which could easily pummel her to death. Q's knuckles blanched as he gripped the counter's edge. It was easy to imagine him slipping on a pair of brass knuckles at any moment. She didn't want to think of what he might do to her -- that is, if things didn't work out.

"Pee, bitch! Knock it off and drop them pants!" Q screamed.

Red slowly began to slip her True Religion jeans down to just above her knees. The more Q screamed at her to hurry, the more she began to calculate her next move. "Fuck you, nigga! Can a bitch piss in peace, goddamn it?"

"As many times I done ran up in that pussy, I know you ain't worried about me seeing it now." Q refused to take his eyes off Red for even a second. Detroit, Michigan, niggas were clever and calculating. They didn't trust anyone, including females. It was a dog-eat-dog world on the streets of Detroit and females weren't immune to getting a beat-down by a nigga in the game.

Q stood an even six feet with dark brown eyes and dark hair that he kept cut in a low faded Caesar. With Shemar Moore looks, his outward appearance hid a dark past. Q hustled with a vengeance and felt that life owed him something. At first, his future included a career as a professional football player, but a knee injury changed all of that. So, the streets gave him the fame and power that a professional sports career would have. He reaped all the benefits and recognition of a celebrity.

Red, trying to gain control over the situation, used another tactic in her huge arsenal to calm Q down a notch. Getting up off of the toilet and pulling her pants back up, she walked over to him and touched his arm. "Q, would it be so bad if -- "

"How would I know it's mine? Y'all some trick-ass bitches and this is y'all's number one game!" he interrupted.

Her tactic failed. Damn! It didn't work, she thought.

"Nigga, ain't nobody tryin' to trick yo' ass. What the fuck make you think I wanna be carrying your seed?"

"See, your whole tone changed just like that." Q snapped his fingers. "Y'all bitches is scandalous, always tryin' to fuck wit' a nigga." He folded his arms and got comfortable, as if he had all the time in the world to wait.

"Scandalous?" Red shouted. She rolled her hazel eyes and sat back on the toilet as Q glared at her.

"Did I stutter? You heard what I said . . . scandalous! Shit, in my twenty-four years, I done seen some bullshit from y'all hos." Q stared Red dead in her eyes and pointed. "Now piss in that cup so I can dip this stick to see if the line turns pink."

"Nigga, this is ridiculous. After all this time, this is what I'm reduced to? A pregnancy test?" Red was intentionally stalling. "It's gon' turn pink, and then what, nigga?"

Q shook his head, tired of Red talkin' shit. "Just piss already. Damn."

In the "D," niggas had to maintain their manhood by not allowing shiesty-ass women to fuck over their dicks. But Q had a weakness for a woman carrying his baby, and Red knew this. Like most other men in his line of work, Q wanted some part of his own flesh and blood to carry on his legacy in the event of his demise. Q was no stranger to responsibility and doing the right thing, and felt guilty denying a child and mother when he knew damn well he had enough money to take care of them. He held resentment in his heart for his own daddy for abandoning him, his mother and four siblings when he was young, and vowed to never be like him.

This made Q an attractive and lucrative target. He had already been tricked on a couple of occasions when he was a youngster. And to make matters worse, neither of the two children even looked like him.

Then one day he spotted one of his kids at the mall with some guy who was rumored to be the "real" father. Q had been taking care of the little bastard for two years. Come to find out, the baby's mother, Rochelle, had both Q and the dude pushing a stroller loaded with shopping bags thinking they were the father. She was playing both of them niggas for their cheese. All she cared about was their money and how much they were spending on her. From that moment in the mall, Q got hip to the bitch. He waited several days, giving her just enough time to snooze, and caught her out at a club and put his "act right" on her ass.

Always a man of his word, and not one to waste time barking about shit he couldn't make good on, Q gave her a thorough ass-whipping till she begged for mercy. His wrath curtailed any other woman from trying that shit again, at least on him. Ho-checking was simple -- do it in front of other hos, and they all got the picture. After teaching Rochelle not to mess with a nigga from the streets, Q did what most men do -- he bounced, leaving her with no dick, no money, and a screamin'-ass kid.

Now hip to most of the games played by the sack-chasers, Q had gotten to the point where he packed his own jimmys and placed them on his nine-inch dick himself. When he was done handling his business, he disposed of them in a napkin and placed the napkin in his pocket to be discarded later. Hell, for all he knew, bitches would open the used condoms and try to get some sperm to inseminate themselves, in the hopes of getting knocked up. Whatever the case, he wasn't having it.

Red and Q had known each other in passing, spotting each other at the hot spots and concerts. He peeped her when she was with her girls, and he holla'd at her. They even went as far as exchanging numbers and talking a time or two on the phone. They just kept it cool. Red didn't give him too much play because she was "with" Bacon and didn't want to mess that up. And there was no reason for her to leave her green grass for unknown pastures. But once Bacon went away, she needed to have a man around, and Q was willing.

For some reason, Q felt Red was different. He gave her credit for being above the chickenhead games that most girls played. But he was soon regretting his judgment, and found she was a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Red was the street E. F. Hutton; when she spoke, everybody listened. On this particular day, she found herself hemmed up in a bathroom at the Renaissance Hotel. Out of all the things she could've been doing on such a pleasant afternoon, she was in a plush hotel bathroom, running game, as usual.

Red wasn't your average bitch, though. Don't get it fucked up; she was a cold showstopper and she knew it. She had an average build; nothing was too big or too small. Her complexion was her star attraction. It was toffee-colored with a reddish hue, flawless, not a pimple in sight. Her mom's Puerto Rican genes gave her long, curly red hair with just the right luster. Her hazel eyes were courtesy of her father.

She could put a halt to rush-hour traffic with her Puerto Rican beauty complemented by African-American features. Her angelic smile and heavenly white teeth were the perfect cover for being as foul as she wanted to be. Always rockin' her game face, she knew how to bat her Cover Girl lashes and mesmerize even the hardest nigga into being an unwitting victim.

Oddly, Red had a rough edge about her that she combined with a powerful sex appeal. Her malicious ways were masked by her million-dollar smile. Always dressed to perfection, Red expressed her femininity by the length of her heels, whether they were sandals, boots or slides. This automatically gave her five feet, five inches of height the presence of a giant and she carried herself as such.

Red was definitely a dime, no doubt, but her ways made her ugly. Nobody and nothing could keep her from doing her dirt. Not only was Red a vindictive person, she also was a master dissembler. Living life in a New York state of mind, her goal was to get rich at all costs, regardless of who was hurt in the process. Red believed that there was no Lady Luck. Every opportunity meant preparation. She was convinced that success was not all that mysterious, and life was a game that needed to be played. And when it came to her, there were no rules -- and it was always her turn.

"Okay, can you get me a glass of water from the bar?" Red asked in a meek whisper.

"No, bitch, we gon' stay up in dis piece until you pee. I don't give a damn if it takes all day or all night." Q was getting more vexed by the moment. He couldn't believe that Red was wasting his time. He didn't know why she had picked a hotel to tell him this. As far as he was concerned a corner gas station would have been just fine. Not only had she picked a hotel, she picked the most expensive one in Detroit.

She sat on the toilet and rested her face in both of her hands. Q couldn't tell if she was crying or not. He didn't give a damn, either.

Looking at his diamond-studded Chopard watch, and then back at Red, Q noticed the room had gone silent. He prayed that she was not pregnant and vowed that although the pussy was some of the best, he wouldn't be caught dead fucking her again.

One question kept coming to mind: How did this happen? Q was the most careful with Red. Despite her complaints, he used protection every time. But, there was that one time . . . His rational mind couldn't determine how she had gotten the slip on him. Q often thought if she wasn't so scandalous, he would wife Red in a heartbeat, but she couldn't be trusted. It made no damn sense why someone so fine kept shit going all the damn time.

Over and over Q began to regret the decision to fuck her raw. People say that a man thinks with the wrong head, and now Q realized that the old saying was true. He sucked his teeth in disgust.

The next thing he knew, Red had diverted his attention from the matter at hand. He looked on as she slowly leaned back against the rear of the toilet. She spread her legs and began to rub her clit. She looked up at Q and began to lick her lips in a suggestive manner...

About this edition

• Publisher: Atria Books
• Publication date: 2007
• ISBN 10: 074349363X
• ISBN 13: 9780743493635
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 256