Read Larger Than Lyfe for Free Online

lot of Bacardi rum. She wanted to be in just the right mode to get her “swerve” on once she arrived at Rasheed the Refugee’s party that night. Rasheed the Refugee’s “Land of the Lost” filled the room with Rasheed’s deep, laid-back, apocalyptic lyrical flow and basslaced, “sumthin’ you can ride to” rhythms.
    “Well, Miss Thing,” Misha said as she stood in the mirror patting her face dry after rinsing off her mask, “I think this party will be exactly the distraction you need to take your mind off business for at least a little while. It’s going to be wall-to-wall brothas.”

    “That’s the least of my priorities,” Keshari said without opening her eyes. “With Rick’s upcoming trial and this talent search project about to get underway, I’ll soon be playing both ends against the middle. I don’t have time for any romantic entanglements. Besides, I think you’ve got that little ‘hoochie mama’ routine hemmed up all by yourself. I’ll leave the brothas to you tonight. What would I look like trolling around through record label executives and would-be rappers for a date?”
    “Like a normal, young, red-blooded, extremely successful, damned woman,” Misha said, glaring at her sarcastic friend’s reflection in repose in the tub. “Furthermore, perhaps you should reassess your ‘priorities’ from time to time and make more of an effort to get yourself laid. That might take some of the pressure off. Deal with the talent search project tomorrow and let that fucked-up bastard ROT
in jail for all I care. I haven’t seen you in anything remotely resembling a healthy, romantic relationship since you made the mistake of getting yourself involved with him. What? Have you decided to stand by your man and serve him up with conjugal visits while he spends the rest of his sick-assed life behind bars?!”
    “Shit, Misha! Don’t start. I am definitely not in the mood.”
    “You stubborn bitch!” Misha replied. “Tonight is the perfect opportunity for you to meet somebody…somebody fun…somebody who could very well prove worthy of you.”
    Keshari didn’t even bother to respond. She wanted to sink into her bathwater until it covered her head. Sometimes Misha either intentionally dismissed or momentarily forgot who Keshari was.

    At 10 p.m., Keshari’s black Bentley convertible pulled into one of the congested valet lanes at the Mondrian Hotel in West Hollywood. She had two Suburbans with professional bodyguards escorting her. She also had a team of undercover security agents working the crowd.
    Keshari had rarely traveled with the kind of security that many wealthy, prominent figures in the entertainment industry kept regularly in their employ. She had always been under protection of The Consortium’s security and they were as professional and as adept at detecting and defending against danger as any of Los Angeles’ most reputable security firms. The Consortium’s security also had an advantage. Because they were a part of L.A.’s criminal underground, they virtually always knew, preemptively, who to watch, when to watch, and what was being planned. However, after Keshari’s visit with Ricky that day, along with her desire to ultimately extricate herself completely and permanently from the affairs of The Consortium, she knew that she would have to begin implementing different measures regarding her security immediately. When Misha looked at her quizzically as they rolled out of the gates of Keshari’s home, heavily secured as if Keshari was the new Suge Knight, Keshari quickly brushed it off with an offhand excuse about the label advising it for the party.
    The two women stepped from Keshari’s car simultaneously and stopped the hotel’s parking attendants in their tracks as they walked past. Clad in a form-fitting, backless, chocolate-beaded, Valentino jumpsuit with matching, chocolate satin, Jimmy Choo heels that wrapped and tied around her ankles, Keshari was positively stunning.