by Derek Slaton
“Spitting pennies?” Kerr blurted in his nervousness, and Silky scoffed, lashing out to slap him in the back of the head.
“They’s penny loafers, muthafucka!” He lifted his foot and rested it on the edge of Kerr’s suitcase to show him the shiny white shoes. “Silky gonna have to teach your inbred ass everything? Goddamn.”
He sighed and lowered his foot, the heel hitting the carpet with a soft thud. He waved for the recruit to follow him, wandering through the doorway at the back of the living room towards the basement.
“What’s down there?” Kerr asked as Silky opened the door, motioning towards the stairs that headed down into darkness.
“That’s where you stayin’,” the pimp replied.
“Down there?” A burst of anger flared up in Kerr’s chest as the stress and humiliation bubble burst.
“Down there.” Silky smiled.
“But that’s the basement,” the recruit snapped.
“Whoo-eee, you’s an observant muthafucka, ain’t ya?” Silky leaned on the door and crossed his feet at the ankles.
“Years of Agency training, what can I say?” Kerr retorted before he even thought about it, a smart ass tone shining through in his exasperation.
“Get yo cracka ass down there before Silky whoops it,” Silky threatened in a menacing tone.
The recruit clenched his jaw and stepped down onto the wooden staircase, the door slamming into his back before he was fully inside. He stumbled down a few steps, pain exploding in his forehead as he bonked his head against the low ceiling.
He mumbled a few curses under his breath, and ducked down into the area that looked like it was more for storage than a real basement. There were boxes piled from floor to ceiling, and a tattered reclining lawn chair that looked like it had seen better days.
Kerr dropped his suitcase on the concrete floor and collapsed into the chair. He leaned back and settled in, staring at the wooden beams overhead.
There was a creak and groan, and the chair collapsed, pain reverberating up his spine like lightning as his tailbone hit the cement floor.
He rolled onto his side, throwing an arm over his eyes as he hissed in pain.
This was going to be a long assignment.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Kerr finished placing his things on the makeshift shelf he’d created out of the boxes, and then sat back on the decently comfortable bed he’d managed to make up. A few of the bigger boxes had been full of comforters, so he’d crafted a pallet out of cardboard and layered blankets on top.
He stretched out on his homemade cot and pulled out his phone, scrolling aimlessly through his Twitter feed before his stomach growled loudly. It was getting to be around dinnertime.
Why was he hanging out in the basement anyway? Silky had sent him down here, but was he really just going to stay down here until he was called, like a dog?
Kerr stood up and stretched his arms up over his head, relishing in the sweet crackle of his back and shoulders as he did so. Enough was enough. Smoothen Silky was his superior, but Kerr had done his time at the Agency. He would prove himself or die trying.
He opened the basement door with authority, and then strolled through the kitchen into the living room with as much confidence as he could muster. He’d never had a problem with the other recruits; he needed to stay in that mindset here.
“There you is, let’s get this shit started,” Silky waved him over from his perch on the couch, surrounded by his women. The two on either side snuggled up to him like a Silky sandwich, and the third straddled his back, hands working at his bare shoulders. The pristine powder blue coat hung artfully on a coat rack behind them, an imposing presence all on its own.
Kerr stopped short, bravado forgotten when he realized he’d been fucking around in the basement when he was supposed to be in a strategy meeting. “Sorry, I wasn’t aware that-”
“That’s yo problem, Wonder Bread, you wouldn’t be aware of shit on a sandwich,” Silky tilted his head down, eyeing the recruit from over the top of his sunglasses.
Kerr squared his shoulders again, determined to keep his cool. Mere minutes after vowing to do better he was already being insulted, but instead of arguing he needed to just face this head on. Grunts always got the abuse, right? He had to just take it in stride and eventually he’d get to be the one knocking around new recruits.
He turned to the opposite couch to sit, and his breath caught in his throat at the woman sitting there with her laptop. She hadn’t been around with the other three earlier, fawning all over Silky. In fact, she didn’t look like she belonged in the pimp room at all.
Thick red curls draped over creamy shoulders, a pale yellow sundress hugging a shapely body. Mile long legs stretched out, ending at bare feet that braced themselves on the coffee table.
Kerr blinked a few times and gulped as he sank down into the couch, and she immediately turned her bright green eyes on him. It was as if he’d been stabbed in the gut by her glare, and her deliciously full lips pursed as she exaggerated looking down at his thigh pressed up against hers.
He coughed nervously, not having meant to plop down right against her, and backed up so that he was at the opposite end of the couch. He caught a faint whiff of lavender as he slid away from her, and resisted the urge to lean forward and bury his nose in her hair.
So professional, he mentally chastised himself, and forced his gaze to Silky, who had gotten up to pace.
“Alright, so we’s got a job to do down here,” the pimp began as he strutted back and forth along the crimson shag carpet. “And you know what? We’s gonna get it done hella quick so Silky can go soak up some of them rays and pick up a ho or two. Or three.”
The women on the couch giggled, stroking each other with seemingly practiced sensuality. Kerr forced his eyeballs to stay glued to his superior, ignoring the ridiculous amount of sex appeal oozing all over the room.
“So, what’s the plan?” He asked, proud of how firm his voice sounded.
“The plan is for you to shut the fuck up and let Silky talk, suga cube,” came the sharp retort, and Kerr sat back against the plush couch cushion. He resisted the urge to mime zipping his mouth shut, and continued to stare at the pacing pimp.
“Rose, what you got for ole Silky?” He pointed at the luscious redhead with the laptop.
“Well, I’ve pulled up rental records for the houses in this area,” she said, and Kerr wanted to slam his head against the wall at the husky tone of her voice. How did anyone work in these conditions? It wasn’t fucking fair. “There are half a dozen fraternities that have rented houses, and that’s just the ones that we know of.”
“Right, right.” Silky wound his fingers in a circle to encourage her to go on.
“We’ll have a couple of the ladies out on the town trying to get an invite to one of the parties,” Rose added, motioning to the three scantily clad ladies on the couch.
“Who’s our objective?” Kerr spoke up, injecting himself into the strategy meeting with an air of authority.
“Look at that, the slack jawed yokel finally axed a relevant question.” Sarcasm poured from Silky’s voice like a waterfall, but Kerr decided to take it as a compliment, however backhanded it was.
“Our target is this woman,” Rose turned her laptop to reveal a photo of a bleach blonde beach babe in a tiny bikini and a pageant sash. “She’s a nasty demon and we’re trying to figure out why she’s here for spring break.”
“Why frat parties?” Kerr asked with a shrug. “I mean, a woman that hot should be pretty easy to spot. Why not just drive around and look for her?”
“It’s more complicated than just following your dick.” Rose closed the laptop and leaned forward to set it on the coffee table. “The fraternities that we tracked down all have demon possession affiliation. For the most part, they use the fraternity as a front to harvest souls.”
Kerr was impressed with the woman’s articulate nature, and felt a little badly for sexualizing her so hard when he first saw her
. She seemed to be the most professional person in the room.
“With that tall skinny bitch in the mix, we’s pretty sure somethin’ big and fuckin’ bad’s goin’ down here.” Silky emphasized his words with swoops of a 9-iron. Kerr eyed it but was too afraid to ask.
“So, when do we leave?” He inquired instead, itching to get out there and show off his skills.
“Whoo-ah there cracka, you’s thinkin’ you ready for the field?” Silky stopped and put his hand up, palm out.
“Damn straight.” Kerr quenched his nervousness and stood up. It was now or never. He had come here to show the Agency what he was made of, and if he had to stand up to a pimp and his hos to do it, then that’s what he was going to do. “I graduated top of my class at the Agency, blowing away the competition. Besides, they sent me to you, didn’t they?” He motioned to Silky with a conspiratorial grin. “Surely they’re going to send the best recruit to the best field agent, aren’t they?”
“Oh, you’s a savvy muthafucka, ain’t ya?” Silky threw his head back and barked a laugh at the flattery. “Okay, okay, Silky’s gonna give you a shot. You just go on back down to yo hole and ole Silky will let you know when it’s time to get outta here.”
Kerr mentally high fived himself, totally surprised that the pimp seemed impressed by him. “Really?” He caught his childish hopeful tone and coughed to try to cover it up. “Yeah, alright.”
“Go on now, buddy, Silky’s gonna talk to Rose here and get yo plans all set up nice,” his superior said, shooing him off like a cat.
“Alright, Mister Silky,” Kerr couldn’t quash his excitement this time. A real field mission. This was it. He was doing it. “I won’t let you down.” He added, and scurried off back into the kitchen, grabbing a box of crackers on the way by the counter.
“Silky’s sure you won’t!” The pimp called after him, and when the basement door closed, he turned to share a conspiratorial smile with Rose. “That cracka don’t know what he’s in for.”
CHAPTER NINE
Silky descended the wooden steps into the basement, nose twitching at the smell of dank cardboard. At the bottom, his mauve hat grazing the low ceiling, he turned to see Kerr dancing off to the side.
No, not dancing, shadowboxing, it looked like. Some kind of kung fu shit, that was for sure.
“Whatchoo doin’ down here?” Silky asked, and Kerr didn’t respond. He was about to make a comment about how it was rude for a ho not to answer a question when she was asked, but then he realized that the kid was wearing earbuds.
He extended his trusty golf club and poked the recruit in the back, eliciting a yelp as Kerr leapt into the air, bonking the top of his head into a wooden beam.
“Ah, shit!” Kerr yanked the earbuds out, thrash metal blasting out of the little nubs. “Sorry sir, what’s up? Did you say something?”
“Silky asked what the fuck you doin’?” His superior asked, motioning to the earbuds and his shirtless and sweat sheened torso.
“Oh, just doing some training before my first mission,” Kerr explained, excited to get to share some personal details with him. “See, it’s a way for me to relax, and the music-”
“Silky didn’t ask for yo goddamn life story, honky.” The pimp held up a hand to stop him from rambling on.
“Sorry,” Kerr replied immediately, keeping his posture formal. He was vaguely aware that he probably smelled pretty bad, and needed to get upstairs to shower before any of the ladies got too close to him.
He was amazed at how put together and shiny the pimp was, having changed into a dusty deep purple suit and jacket. The feather proudly spewing from the top of his massive hat brushed against the wooden beams of the ceiling, and the recruit couldn’t help but feel a bit mesmerized by it.
“And quit apologizing so damn much,” Silky continued, tapping the golf club on the kids head with a hollow pock. “Man, you’s worse than a ho. Where’s that cracka I saw upstairs, huh? Silky needs a honky that believes in himself.”
“Alright.” Kerr blinked at him, amazed that he’d just gotten a pep talk from the guy that had spent most of the day insulting him. “No more apologies. What’s the mission?”
“That’s more like it, muthafucka,” Silky clapped the kid on the back. “One of Silky’s hos got picked up by a couple of those frat boy fucks, and they invited her to a party. She’s s’posed to be bringin’ a friend so’s they can do a little striptease thing.”
“And where do I fit in?” Kerr asked, turning off the music still blasting from the tiny speakers.
“Silky don’t like to send his hos out without protection, ya dig? Usually they be gettin’ a taser and a set of ball clamps. But seein’ as how you wanna shot and all, Silky’s gonna send you instead.”
“I get to be a bouncer?” The kid beamed, puffing out his chest. “Fuck yeah, I can be a bouncer. I look great in a muscle shirt. The ladies will go crazy for these guns.” He flexed his biceps with a sly grin.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, settle down there baby boy,” Silky stifled a laugh at the recruit’s train of thought. “You ain’t gonna be dressin’ like that.”
“Why not?” Kerr lowered his arms in disappointment.
“Cause if you do that they’s gonna know that you a bouncer.” The pimp raised his eyebrows, not sure how this green as hell agent wasn’t understanding.
“Well yeah, and I’ll intimidate them.” Kerr flexed his biceps again.
At that, Silky threw his head back, gold glinting as he bellowed a laugh. “Boy, you couldn’t intimidate a one legged crack whore with that apple pie fuckin’ face o yours,” he said with an amused grin that refused to go away.
“So what am I going to do?” Kerr scowled. “Be one of the strippers?”
“Cracka, this is an undercover mission,” Silky threw up a hand in exasperation. “We’s tryin’ to get info-mation, not collect money from these fools. You’s gonna have to blend in.” He reached into his coat and pulled out a very specific article of clothing.
“Oh, hell no,” the recruit protested, shaking his head. “You can’t expect me to… no.”
“You’s wanted field work, ole Silky’s got you field work.”
“But I didn’t know it involved… this.”
“That’s what you be fuckin’ gettin’ for not askin’,” Silky replied jovially, and tossed the garment at Kerr’s head. “Get a fuckin’ shower and put that shit on, cuz you’s leavin’ in five minutes.”
CHAPTER TEN
“I can’t believe I’m dressed like this,” Kerr muttered, and both Rose and Silky’s blonde ho stifled giggles.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” the redhead said while fighting a grin. “It looks fine. Right, Trixie?”
“Yeah,” Trixie agreed, “it really brings out your eyes.”
Kerr scowled, and picked at the hem of the pink polo shirt he’d been forced into wearing. “This fucking sucks.”
The roar of the waves seemed to accentuate his mood, swooshing up into the sand with more force than seemed necessary.
Rose clenched her jaw, pursing her lips to keep from bursting into laughter. “Pink looks good on you,” she tried to assure him, and Trixie let slip a snicker.
“I swear to god, if I could go back in time I’d find the person that decided pink shirts were a good idea and beat the ever living fuck out of them,” Kerr promised, and cracked his knuckles for effect. “I’m a man, dammit. The only legitimate reason for owning a pink shirt is if a red towel got thrown into the wash.”
“Are you done?” Rose raised an eyebrow at his outburst. It really wasn’t that big of a deal, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. He was acting like a hormonal teenager. Who said guys couldn’t wear pink?
“No, I’m not done!” He cried. “My manhood feels dirty from this! Hell, I feel like my manhood’s shrunk from this! In fact, I’m going to do something about it.” He motioned to Trixie with a determined stare. “May I?”
She shrugged sheepishly, putting her hands on her hips. “U
h, ok?” Her tits looked like they were ready to burst from her low cut shirt, and she assumed he was going to reach out and grab them.
Kerr simply took a long, deep look at her cleavage. He drew in a breath, held it, and then released. “Okay,” he said, voice almost zen. “I feel better now.”
Rose rolled her eyes at him, and he fought the urge to give her the finger as his phone trilled in his pocket.
