by Kirk Alex
Mrs. Sepulveda collected her youngsters, and was out the door.
“Can you believe that shit? Spent all her good years living it up—and now she’s coming down on me for trying to live my own life? Too much.”
“I like your mother. She’s right. This sucks.”
“Yeah? You can have her. You got no idea what she’s really like. Try living with her—then come and talk to me about how right she is, Pearl.” Lana withdrew money from her bathrobe that she had withheld from her mother.
“Barely got enough to score some rocks, pay off some bills. Woman drives me absolutely fucking nuts.” She stuffed the money in her purse. Shed the bathrobe and stepped into a shower stall. Stella got out of her own robe as well and opted for a shower next to Lana’s.
“I’m thinking of quitting.”
“And do what, Pearl?” Stella said. “And go where?”
“Vegas. Maybe try to get hired on Solid Gold.”
“Yeah. Sure,” Lana said. “Pipe dream.”
“McCoy’s constantly on my back. I don’t know how much longer I can take it.”
“I can take it as long as the tips keep coming.”
“I told you guys about Vegas,” said Stella. “You get busted doing toot and you are out on your ass. They don’t want their talent fooling with dope.”
“It’s too fucking strict out there,” Lana seconded. “At least with Fritz he don’t give a shit about that ’cause he’s into it himself—so long as you’re cool about it. Speaking of dope, I wonder what Cecil’s flunky will come in here with this time. I hope it’s super fly shit whatever it is.”
“There’s no way I’m going back to that smelly old house,” said Pearleen. She was enamored with the baby and wondered if she’d be able to hold her for a while once Dione was done breast-feeding her.
“Of course you can,” said Dione.
“What was that, Pearl?” Lana yelled out from the shower. “You can’t wait to go back for another visit to that smelly old house?”
“Not me. No more. Who needs it?”
“Where have I heard that before? Reverend Stinky knows exactly what he’s doing. Gives Marvin enough to get us interested—then he’ll say: If you want more of the same come on over to the bishop’s cribby and do a private strip for the dude. He’ll give you all the dope you can hack.”
“I’m with Pearl,” said Stella. “I’m not going back—unless absolutely necessary.”
“We’ll see about that,” Lana said, stepping out of the shower.
CHAPTER 58
There was nothing resembling anything close to a real knock on the dressing room door when it opened and Muck walked in with a stupid grin on his face. Dione was finishing up breast-feeding her baby and Marvin’s grin widened.
“That chile got all the luck in the world.”
Dione was quick to shove the exposed breast back inside her robe, only it hadn’t been quick enough as far as her husband Danny was concerned. His wife glanced at him with a shrug: What was she supposed to have done? Maybe Marvin behaved like a jerk because he just happened to be one. He’d entered the dressing room practically unannounced. Hadn’t even given anyone a chance to cover themselves up. Yes, she also knew it was no place for a child. They had to bear up under the circumstances.
As she said she would, she let Pearleen hold Clarissa, then stepped into a shower herself, all the while keeping an eye on the room so that she wouldn’t miss out on what might be taking place with Marvin and whatever he may have brought with him.
Marvin had moved close enough to the showers to catch enough bare skin now and then through the clear plastic shower curtains as she and Stella lathered up in their respective stalls.
The other strippers were, in fact, aware of what Muck was up to but did not make a fuss, as he very often brought “goodies” with him, even if he did smell nearly as bad as Biggs himself, and dressed even worse.
“How all you fine hoe’ like the jack Brotha Muck left in the bowl for my bitches?”
“Bullshit,” Lana said, drying herself off with a towel. “That was the man’s own cash you dropped in the tip glass. Everyone knows you don’t have a pot to piss in, ‘Free Ride.’ ’Cause if you did, you wouldn’t be wearing them clothes. Lookit them kicks. Like a senior citizen.”
Marvin looked down. It was nothing more than a knee-jerk reaction. He’d heard it all before. When he looked back up he was grinning anyway.
“Yeah? Well, this be one ‘senile citizen’ wiff somethin’ special all you womens is gonna be jumpin’ for joy. ’Sides, how you know I ain’t savin’ up all my bread to open up my own nightclub? How you know that? Gonna get me a real class joint. Hire all the best lookin’ bitches LA ever seen. Make twiced the bank you makin’ now workin’ for that ugly nigga what ain’t got a dick no bigger than my pussy finger. Got it all figured out, me. Up here. An’ you ain’t got to fuck no mens ’less you feel like it. An’ we split the coin so all of us be real happy wiff the arrangement all around.”
“Another one with a pipe dream,” Lana quipped. “I’d like to know what you’re on, ‘Brotha Muck,’ what you’ve been smokin’.”
“Don’t jive us, Marvin,” said Stella, stepping out of the shower herself. Grabbed a towel. “We don’t have time for your ‘boo-shit.’”
“No boo-shit. Why come I don’t spend my coin on bling and wardrobe. All that be later.”
He reached inside his pocket and pulled out the folded-over envelope, then the Ziploc baggy with enough crack to make the women stop giving him a hard time and go for crack pipes that they each owned and kept handy in purses that were never far from their reach.
“It ain’t what I been smokin’. More like what I’m about to.” Bitches be searchin’ for they glass stem’ and be ready to play the game, thought Marvin. They all be singin’ a different tune all of a sudden.
Lana was quickest to move. He watched her dump the contents of her purse onto the vanity counter and dig out a red box cutter. Had a few of them. Different colors: black, red, white. Aluminum. The kind with the single edge blade.
All of these hoe’ got somethin’ to hurt a dude wiff. Like Omar always be sayin’: never trust no ho, ’specially a ghetto ho. An’ they was that.
He watched her attempt to scrape out the bowl with the blade. Only the blade was too wide. She was back to rummaging through the pile of items on the counter: lipstick, nail polish, mirror, eyeliner, coins, Tampons.
Settled on a nail file. Scraped the bowl out and placed a new screen in. She was itching to get her hands on the Ziploc baggy. Marvin held it back. Beyond her reach.
“Just one thing.”
“Asshole. What’s the catch this time?”
“Catch? Yo, why you raggin’, Stella?”
“You heard her. What are you after this time? I don’t do anal.”
“You done it, shuga-bush. Seen the video, Lana. You take Jones in yo back door.”
“You couldn’t afford it.”
“Be that way. Only I ain’t even here for that. I be yo friend, you know that. Best friend you bitches got.”
“So are we hittin’ it, or what?”
“Yo, we gonna hit this shit, Stella.”
Marvin dangled the rocks before their hungry eyes. They wanted it, and were practically willing to do just about anything for it. Pearl was the only one who remained reserved. She craved the dope as much as the others, no matter what she had stated a moment ago, but would not let it show. Her high, from McCoy’s toot, was winding down. If she could have extended it by hitting the rocks a couple of times would have been real nice.
She didn’t say much. Waited to see how the thing would evolve. She played with the baby. Kissed her on the forehead.
“Only the dude aksed me if you was all willin’ to come back to the cribby. Get acquainted. You know.”
“What did I tell you? Fuckers always gotta be after something.”
“Only fair, ain’t it? When you dance on McCoy’ stage you get paid, Lana DaBottom.
When you dance in Cecil’ livin’ room you get paid, too. Crack don’t be free. Dude pay’ for it outta his own pocket.”
“How do we know rocks are any good?”
“‘Cause I be tellin’ you this be some great jellybean’, Lana. Had me some back at the cribby the other day. You know Cecil don’t never buy no weak dope. All the dope he get be some fly shit. Blow, smack, crank, crack. Name it. All be quality.”
CHAPTER 59
Danny Aragon, who had stood by the door all the while, saw what was about to take place in back of the dressing room and decided he’d like to be part of it. Why not? Just a hit or two. Wouldn’t hurt. LA can get you down. This was a way to stay up.
“Sorry, Brotha. Bitches only, I mean womens only. Don’t be enough here to go around.”
Clearly disappointed, Danny collected his infant daughter and left the room.
“That was uncalled for. It was rude.”
“One way of lookin’ at it, Peachy. All I can do is what my homie tell’ me to do. Anyway, fuck Danny. He don’t pay for this shit. Crack don’t grow on no tree. Aks Cecil about that. Dude be remindin’ me all the time.”
The strippers had gathered round him, with the exception of Dione. Rest of them never give a damn about Danny anyway. Peach don’t neither. Only like’ to act like she do. Marvin knew it. Had the sly smile going. Man was in charge. Like Iceberg. King of all pimp’.
“Wait for me, you guys.” Dione was shampooing her hair and some of it had ended up in her eyes. She had stuck her head out, squinting, straining to make out what was going on. Marvin had the charm working overtime.
“Not to worry, sugar-bush. My main man Cecil got you covered. Dude say if you womens want to smoke the nugget’ you gonna havta come to the cribby and put on a show. Only be right. Don’t it?”
Dione’s eyes were burning and she needed to rinse the soap out of them and ducked back in the shower.
“Not a problem,” Lana said. “Only don’t tell me there’s no catch—because there always is.”
Rocks were in the pipe. She got her torch going. Had a long blast, as was her custom. Held the smoke in her lungs, then released it slowly. This was her way of going for the fullest effect.
Pipe was passed around to Stella and Peachy. By the time it reached Marvin there wasn’t much left to smoke. He sucked on it all the same, burning down the ’due.
“I don’t mind. Only you ain’t right to keep sayin’ there be a catch all the time. There don’t be no catch. Never been. You got bump and whatnot, weed an’ crack—and whatnot, last time you all was at the house—and what about them other time’ Stella and Lana and them other hoe’ what ain’t here no more—and all that great shit: ludes, Scotty, base?”
“Sure. We dance for the dickhead. If the rest of them nuggets are as good as this.”
Her friends nodded in agreement.
“Buncha funny-ass bitches. You smokin’ this fine dope and got nerve to say: Now, if the rest of that shit be as good. . . . How many time’ I got to prove it?”
He chuckled. “You can trust the deacon. Deacon Muck ain’t gonna come around with nothin’ but the best for all you fine stone bitches—’cause you deserves the best. That simple. How it all work’.”
“Wait for me,” Dione kept beseeching from the shower. Only Lana had already scraped out her bowl. Stuck a fresh screen in using the end of what looked like part of a chopstick. Added the new rocks. She had the torch going in no time, firing up the rocks. Stayed with it until she had the lot crinkling to her satisfaction.
She hit it, and passed the stem on to Stella Martel. Stella’s system was to go for short hits. Did a couple, then a third, before Pearleen held her hand out and opted for Lana’s way: taking a long, deep blast, and leaned back against the vanity counter.
Not wanting them to smoke it all up before he’d had his share, Muck pulled up a stool, got his hands on the stem and had a lasting, hard hit. Nothing like it in the world. The only way to top it would be to have one of the bitches suck his joint. Take his Johnson out and go to town on it. Only he didn’t know if he could make them do it. Risked getting busted by McCoy and kicked out for good. Did it matter? He was willing to take that chance.
“How ’bout it?”
“What?”
“Do me, Lana. Suck my dick, while I be suckin’ on this here pipe.”
“Ain’t happening.”
“Could go for a Double Master Blaster, me.”
“Not here, not now.”
“How about you, Stella? Ain’t none a y’all my friend?”
“You heard her.”
“Scotty be fly this time. Fuckin’ rocket fuel.”
Puttin’ up wiff Omar and his boo-shit was worf it when you got to smoke fly crack like this. Marvin’s brain felt like it was on fire. Sizzling. Be a cool way to burn. Go up in flame’.
CHAPTER 60
Stem was passed around, and in no time the crack was down to residue as before. Lana sucked on it anyway. Wasn’t much to get. The strippers eyed the rest of what remained in the baggy. Muck had it out. Baiting them. Was reluctant to go through with it.
“Bishop ain’t gonna like it if we do it up. Got to save some for the party, ain’t we?”
“Because you didn’t get your dick blown, so you have to play your fucking game.”
“Ain’t like that, Lana.”
“Sure it is.”
Stella had sidled up and was rubbing the inside of his thigh. Had her hand gently moving back and forth, just about near his groin. Massaged the area enough to be effective. It was working. Marvin fought the urge to want to get off. No chance.
“We can have that party right now. If you want. . . .”
“You got no idea what Omar be like. Dude got him a temper. Tight wiff his coin and dope. I got to do what the dude aksed me. Get you womens to come back to the cribby and do a show on his little bitty stage like he say. You ain’t got to do the dude if you don’t want, just do a show. Do yo act.”
Stella continued the gentle rubbing. Stayed clear of the crotch. Got near it, but not on it. She was quite the prick-teaser.
Muck handed the baggy over and watched Lana Sepulveda stuff what was left of the “gravel” down into the bowl of her pipe. Fired up the torch. Hit the glo long and hard, as before, to her friends’ dismay.
Pearleen Bell had her hand on the stem quickly enough and went for the longest of hits this time. Passed the stem back to Lana. Only when Stella objected with a “hey” did Lana place the stem in Stella’s mouth long enough for her to go for her few quick hits. Stella did this, all the while being kind to Marvin’s inner thigh.
Lana Sepulveda was back on it. Had her typical long blast, and passed it on to Pearleen. By the time Pearleen Bell had hers there was not much left for Muck to take in. He sucked on it all the same. Didn’t seem to care—so long as he got Stella to blow him. Only he wished she would get wiff it. Follow through. All the ho be doin’ is teasing his joint.
He unzipped his fly to help her along, and was about to unleash “the package” for that “Double Master Blaster” he was way over due. Only Stella stopped him in time. Ceased what she had been doing with her hand, too. Ended all of it. Had her reason. The other strippers were quick to back her.
“If Fritz catches us we’ll get shit-canned for sure.”
“Yo.” Marvin was practically pleading. “Y’all can’t leave me like this. Gonna give me blue balls.”
“Better you with blue balls, than what would happen to us.”
“Pearl’s telling the truth about Fritz. It pisses him off that he can’t get any of us to do him. Not a good idea to mix business with pleasure.”
“Now you tell me that, Lana? Now? After you done give me the blue balls.”
“You’re blaming us because you walk around with a guided missile 24/7? How is that our fault?”
“You play wiff my Johnson, Stella ‘Storm’ Martel, got it all good and hard, then say it don’t be yo fault? Whose fault do it be, then? Mine? I don�
�t be walkin’ in here wiff hard meat.”
“No?” said Lana. “That thing of yours never goes down.”
Frustrated as hell, Marvin had little choice but to shove his groin back inside his pants. There was somethin’ he coulda done, though. Rape the hoe’. Make the bitches suck his dick anyway—and risk going back to jail—for a long time. Rapin’ bitches got you more time than was worf it, ‘specially if you got caught.
Instead, he zipped up.
The strippers were after more crack. It don’t never be enough for them. Just like Omar say. Sometime’ that mofo know’ what he be talkin’ about.
“There don’t be no more. What do I look like? Pusher? You know I don’t be pushin.’ All I got is what I brung; what the mofo gimme.” Lest they forget: “Well don’t be dry. Where there be ‘Hope,’ there be dope. Back at the cribby. How about we decide what time you womens is comin’ by for a real party? We together on that? Yo.”
Now that they were where they needed to be, and there was no more to be had, they were no longer interested in “Deacon Muck” or anything that he had to say. Lana didn’t care that he didn’t like it, either. Let it be known.
“Seeing your ‘hero,’ BROTHA TRUSTY, cut a chicken’s head off the last time we were there, because that was the only way he could get it up, wasn’t exactly a pleasant sight. Didn’t exactly endear him to us.”
“If that don’t beat all. You done smoke’ the dope and now you sayin’ you ain’t comin’?”
“It’s the chicken killing. Cutting heads off chicken to get his dick up.”
“He don’t do that no more. Cecil ain’t like that. That was that one time he put that chicken down. His dick was nappin’ ’cause of the medication. He ain’t loco or nothin’. Dude get depress’. He ain’t ice’ no yardbird in a long time. Got my word on it. I ain’t lyin’.”
As far as the strippers were concerned, the discussion was over. They wanted this loser to go away and let them be.
