Microphone Fiend

by Sa'id Salaam

  “Mmm. This shit good ‘n’ hot,” Wesley moaned as he fell to the bottom of La-La’s well-used snatch. The hotness he mentioned was courtesy of a rather nasty case of gonorrhea she had yet to get treated.

  “This one here got that wet wet,” Ju-baby announced as he splashed in and out of Shrimp’s insides. A thick clump of pubic hair covered her vagina, trapping in moisture and heat, along with pieces of toilet paper and a bad case of chlamydia.

  “Bruh, this shit is good!” Ju-baby bragged once more as he took long, squishy strokes.

  “We need to switch on these hos,” Wesley suggested as he took the bait Ju-baby dangled.

  “I ain’t no ho,” La-La said, and proved to be lying when she let the two men switch places without resisting. Wesley pulled out and took her V.D. over to Shrimp’s already infectious pussy. Likewise, Ju-baby carried Shrimp’s disease over to her friend.

  Chapter Six

  “We’re in! We’re in,” Tasheena cheered in disbelief after paying the admission fee and being officially allowed to enter the club. She had stood in line holding her breath until she actually gained entrance. She had been so scared they would be spotted and outed for being the ratchet girls they really were underneath all the extras.

  Billie patrolled the line, weeding out thots and thugs. She handed out blunts and passed out cash to get them to go elsewhere. She spotted Tasheena and Tosha and looked them over carefully. Spotting no signs of a buy one, get one free deal, she moved on.

  “We made it!” Tosha seconded. She looked around and knew she was out of her league amongst all the beautiful people inside the club.

  “Wow,” they said in unison as they scanned the interior of the classy club. It was a far cry from any of the juke joints and hole-in-the-walls they regularly attended. Tosha had gotten blood on her dress last week when some nigga bust another nigga in the head with a bottle. She was pissed, because it meant she couldn’t even take the dress back the next day.

  The men inside Club Illusions wore suits or slacks and blazers instead of sagging jeans, t-shirts, and the latest tennis shoe. Here they all had on belts as opposed to their pants hanging off of their asses. Tasheena furrowed her brow as she tried to recall ever dating a man with a belt on before. She shook her head and decided the cable man didn’t count, since his was actually a utility belt and not one to hold up his pants. Besides, it wasn’t a date. She fucked him for free premium channels.

  “Let’s get us a drink!” Tosha said urgently, pointing to the drink special sign that had just popped on.

  “Excuse me. Pardon me,” Tasheena said as she weaved in and out of the sea of people inside, surprised there was no elbowing, pushing, or shoving to get to the bar like she was used to.

  “Hello, pretty ladies,” a handsome fellow greeted them when they arrived at the bar. Tasheena scanned him from head to toe, calculating his worth as she did.

  “Whatever,” she said curtly when the total wasn’t quite high enough to meet her goals. The rejection wiped the smile off the man’s face and sent him on his way with his drinks.

  “What you do that for? He was cute,” Tosha whined.

  “Cute and broke. Girl, his shoes were scuffed. His watch was cheap, his shirt was wrinkled, and he ordered a two-for-one drink special,” she rattled off before ordering a two-for-one special of her own. “Two blue motherfuckers”

  “I’m sorry, but we don’t serve those here,” Pops announced contritely. “How about the house wine?”

  Carlton had ordered a ton of cheap white wine to use as drink specials. The wine may have been cheap, but it packed a punch due to its high alcohol content. A strong drink special meant drunk women, and drunk women tended to be very generous with the vagina. That meant the men would be happy, and therefore return week after week in search of easy prey.

  “Two, please,” Tasheena ordered before looking toward Tosha to pay. She quickly pulled a five-dollar bill from her purse to pay for their drinks. Reluctantly, she squeezed a dollar out and offered it as a tip. She made sure to put the money directly in Pops’ hand so Tasheena wouldn’t take it for herself. It wouldn’t be the first time she had clipped a tip.

  “Thank you,” Pops said, accepting the tip like it was a C-note. That was part of his appeal: making people feel important.

  “Eww, this don’t taste like no Boones!” Tosha squealed as her face wrinkled in protest. Cheap wine, she believed, was better served in fruity flavors; such as apple and watermelon.

  “That’s ‘cause you ratchet and don’t know nothing about classy wines,” Tasheena replied before turning her face up at the dry Vino herself. “Umm. We need to fire this blunt up.”

  “And I’m ratchet,” Tasha said while shaking her head at her friend. “Girl, you gonna get us kicked out,” she exclaimed correctly.

  “Anyway, let’s hit the dance flo’,” Tasheena suggested. They both tossed back their glasses of wine and did just that.

  ***

  “Ooh, baby, I’m so proud of you!” Vita gushed as she rushed into Breeze’s embrace upon her arrival at Club Illusions. She squeezed him so tightly she missed the Chuck-E-Cheese smile spread across his face.

  The shit-eating grin he wore was there for several reasons. First of all, it was there because opening night was a huge success. The club was filling up quite nicely, and it still had a line stretched down the block. Secondly was the dress his woman had on. Lawd, have mercy! he thought.

  Vita’s sparsely-there outfit was the same shade of ebony as her flawless skin, and it was sheer in all the right places. It gave a generous peek at her breasts and flat stomach in the front, and in the back it plunged so low it almost displayed the crack of her shapely ass — an ass set up high on display courtesy of the four-inch heels she wore strapped upon her dainty feet. She looked so tantalizing in the outfit she was in serious danger of being rushed up to Breeze’s office and bent over his desk. As he rubbed his hands over her ass, his suspicions were confirmed: she didn’t have any panties on to get in the way.

  “Thank you,” Breeze replied proudly. “Come on over to my table and I’ll buy you a drink.”

  “Just because you buy me a drink doesn’t mean you can have your way with me,” Vita said putting her hands on her curvaceous hips.

  “Un-huh,” he laughed and took her by the hand. The walk to the V.I.P. section was extended due to Breeze being stopped every few steps. Everyone who knew him had come out to support and congratulate him. Vita almost admired how he worked the crowd like a politician seeking election would. He probably could have been a politician under different circumstances. There’s no telling what he could have been, had he grown up on the other side of town, around better people with better morals. However, decree placed him in the hood instead, and even under those circumstances, he still managed to excel.

  “Is that your mama?” Vita screeched in shock, pointing toward Alice on the crowded dance floor.

  “Where?” Breeze asked, pretending not to see his mother and sister out on the dance floor twerking.

  “Right there, next to your sister,” Vita said, laughing.

  “Umm. No. Come on,” he denied, and once again grabbed her hand to pull her along.

  “My nigga, Breezy Breeze, cool as the trees, got all the hos on their knees, and keep them…” a large man rapped while waving his large hands in the air.

  “’Sup, Big Money?” Breeze cut in before the loud, big man could finish his rap.

  Big Money stood 6’11” tall and was a professional basketball player, who also fashioned himself as being a rapper. Signing a 100 million dollar contract afforded him the right to be whatever he wanted.

  Big Money’s real name was Flint Ford, and before signing said contract, his nickname was Big Dummy. The Harlem, New York native picked up the moniker in school from one of his teachers. He wasn’t the smartest man in any room by far, not even when he was the only man in the room.

  The big in his name could apply to his height, his size 16 feet, the huge nose that spr
ead across his face, his big bubble lips, or the gigantic ears set on the sides of his head. As a result of his features, the goofy teen got absolutely zero girls in high school. Even as a standout college athlete who averaged ten blocked shots and ten dunks per game, he was still overlooked by the opposite sex.

  When he signed his lucrative contract, he switched his name from Big Dummy to Big Money. Nowadays only his grandmother still called him Big Dummy, but she drank a lot, so he overlooked it. Having big money now meant Big Money was finally able to get himself some pussy, and lots of it.

  Being dumb, rich, and horny was a recipe for disaster. Luckily for Big Money, his contract only paid him ten million a year, or he’d probably be broke the way he fucked up money. He quickly burned through a cool mill putting out a rap album that flopped. A gigantic portion went toward his pursuit of pussy. He was so happy to be getting some that he was reckless with it, which caused him to end up paying for it before and after he got laid. In his recklessness, he wasn’t wearing condoms and ended up with ten paternity suits, which resulted in eight children. If a chick called talking about being pregnant, he directed her to his accountant. At the rate he was jacking off money, he was destined to be that old dude in the club wearing a sweat suit and church shoes, but until then, he had vaginas to meet.

  “Nice spot, yo. You got some bad bitches up in here,” Big Money exclaimed as he tried to look through Vita’s dress.

  “Ewww!” Vita squealed and took refuge behind Breeze when she saw the big man gawking at her.

  “Well, have fun. If you need anything,” Breeze started, and paused while he waved a waitress over, “Meeka will take care of you.”

  “Sure will, Mr. Johnson,” Meeka agreed, smiling brightly up at her boss. A little too brightly, causing Vita to come back around to stand in front of her man.

  “Bring me a couple bottles of Mo, and a couple of hos,” Big Money ordered, sizing Meeka up as he did so.

  “Hos?” Meeka asked, looking over at Breeze and making exclamation points with her eyebrows. He stifled a laugh, shrugged, and quickly walked away. “Right away, sir.” Champagne and hos. Mo and hos, Meeka grumbled internally as she made her way to the bar to place his order.

  She was delighted the boss put her in the coveted V.I.P. section with the big spenders and great tippers, but the dudes in it were too damn extra. She had been enduring arrogant come-ons all night. She was a medical student who had a very bright future ahead of her. As a matter of fact, her future would outshine most of theirs. When their light had fizzled out and died, hers would still be shining brightly.

  “Can you believe this dude in V.I.P. asked me to bring him some hos with his champagne?” she questioned Pops. As usual, a slow smile spread across his handsome face while he put together the right words to reply. He wouldn’t get the chance to impart his words of wisdom.

  “Who? Who looking for hos in V.I.P.?” Tasheena desperately wanted to know. She had been a ho in the projects, and a ho in school, so she had no problem being a ho in V.I.P., where she could drink free champagne all night.

  “We’ll go!” Tosha quickly shouted before some other hos could come and snatch away the opportunity.

  “Um,” was all Meeka could think to say in response to such foolishness

  “Your Moet and umm…. Yeah, the rest of your order,” Meeka said, making her delivery. She stared at the hundred-dollar tip with mixed emotions. Pimpin’ ain’t easy, and medical school ain’t cheap, she reflected and accepted it. “Thank you.”

  “I’m Big Money. Have a seat, ladies,” he said as an introduction as he patted the seats, inviting the ladies to have one.

  “Hey, Big Money,” the girls sang in unison like a pair of back-up singers as they sat down flanking the big man. As they sat, they were each treated to a flute of champagne while being groped by the multi-millionaire. The action was foreplay in their minds, and they were in ho heaven from it.

  “Guess he got his hos,” Vita laughed as she glanced over and saw Big Money having big fun with the two girls.

  “I guess so,” Breeze chuckled. He was in such a good mood — as a matter of fact, he was in a great mood. It was all good, until it wasn’t.

  “Boss, we need you out front. We have a slight problem,” Billie stated as she approached Breeze’s table.

  “Problem? What?” he questioned with worry audible in his voice.

  “Umm…. Ray-Ray’s here,” was all she said before Breeze headed for the club’s front entrance.

  Chapter Seven

  Raymond Johnson, A.K.A. Ray-Ray, was Breeze’s youngest — and some might say living — brother. Their brother Joe was killed trying to expand the family’s drug business on the east side. His attempted hostile takeover was thwarted by even more hostility from his opponents. Whoever said you can’t fight fire with fire had obviously never been in a gunfight.

  Dex, another one of their brothers, decided to take an AK-47 and get revenge for his slaughtered brother. He found it alright, but along with it came multiple life sentences in the state penitentiary. Serving a life sentence in jail was worse than being dead in a grave. It was also a hell of a lot lonelier.

  Ray-Ray took advantage of the situation and set up shop on the east side. Armed with a large supply of quality coke from Breeze, he was easily able to fill the void. It didn’t hurt to mention the violent shootings his brother had committed in broad daylight as incentive to let the competition know the Johnson brothers weren’t to be trifled with. Most people talk tough about what they’ll do. However, no one really wants to get shot.

  It should have and would have been all good, had it not been for Ray-Ray’s two fatal character flaws. First and foremost, he was a fuck up, a complete dumbass. That’s only one, but it was major enough to be considered two in the lifestyle he lived in. His fate would eventually be the same as one of his older brothers’. Either he would end up dead or in prison. It was just a matter of which claimed his life first. He knew it, too, and therefore he lived his life full speed ahead. His reckless speeding is what would lead to the demise of his whole crew. Literally…

  “I see ol’ Ray-Ray has a new car,” Detective Stevens mentioned when Raymond pulled up to a loud stop in front of one of Breeze’s stash houses, which was under surveillance.

  “Yeah, but I know he can’t be dumb enough to be holding,” the other cop said.

  Ray-Ray opened the car door and stepped out, letting a cloud of weed smoke billow out as he did. The stereo system in the luxury vehicle, without tags, continued to belch out loud music as he went inside the house. A few minutes later he came out, climbed back into the car, and sped off.

  “Well, we’re about to find out,” Stevens stressed as he pulled out behind the young drug dealer. When Ray reached 75 mph in a 15 mph school zone, they hit their lights and made the stop. Stevens searched the car, just knowing he wasn’t going to find anything, while his partner ran Ray-Ray’s license. Neither search turned out good.

  “Pay dirt, now pay up, pay up, pay up!” Stevens shouted upon finding a kilo up under the driver’s seat.

  “And his license is suspended,” Foreman reported in disbelief. The older brother would never put himself anywhere near the action, but Dumbass was the action, with smoking weed, speeding, driving while suspended, and carrying coke.

  “Looky what we have here,” Stevens said, astounded by the compounded stupidity of Breeze’s youngest brother. “A gun.”

  “That’s not mine! Yo, you planted that!” Ray-Ray shouted, cracking the two cops up. He frowned curiously as the cops yucked it up.

  “You sure? ‘Cause I was gonna let you keep it.” Stevens stated once he regained his composure

  “You for real? I can keep it?” he asked, cocking his head dubiously to the side.

  “Yeah, not the gun, but here,” Stevens responded, handing him back the kilo of cocaine.

  “And I can go? Just leave?” Ray-Ray also questioned. He shot his head in all directions, looking for cameras. “Am I being Punked?”<
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  The cops both turned and walked back to their car in response. If they didn’t let him go, not only would they be there all day, but they would also be bogged down with paperwork once they made it back to the station.

  Ray-Ray watched via his rearview mirror to see if they would follow him, but to his surprise they didn’t. Little did he know, they didn’t need to, considering Stevens had planted a GPS tracker under the seat in his car.

  For the next few months, they were able to piece together the entire operation simply by following his dumb ass around.

  As much as Detective Stevens hated to admit it, Breeze never dealt directly with anything. He knew he was the boss, but as of now couldn’t prove it. Instead, everything fell squarely in Ice’s lap, which made it that much easier for him to take the rap. Stevens deliberately squashed everything they had on Ray-Ray. He decided that, along with his secret weapon, he would be Breeze’s downfall.

  To Breeze’s credit, he did everything in his power to reform not only himself, but also his corrupt brother. He tried his hardest to take him under his wing and out of the life with him when he went legit, but Ray-Ray wouldn’t hear of it.

  “Thug life, shawty! That’s all I know,” is what his little brother stated, like it was cool. Like it hadn’t already destroyed the lives of so many around him.

  Breeze knew his little brother well enough to know he was headed for mass destruction. He knew it was just a matter of time before the youngster would self-destruct, and to that end he put deposits down with both Clayton and Son’s Mortuary as well as Zell and Zell Law Firm. Again, it was just a matter of time before he would need one or the other. Breeze had reconciled with the fact either death or jail were in his brother’s bleak future. Tonight, however, he was not going to worry himself with it. No, instead he was going to try and get his party on.

  “There’s our boy now,” Foreman told his partner as Breeze emerged from the club to handle the situation.