Big Juicy Lips

by Allison Hobbs

  Along with the paper towels, Brick tossed the two unused condoms. What Misty didn’t know surely wouldn’t hurt her. Feeling somewhat renewed, he left the restroom and sauntered up to the bar. “Two brews,” he told the bartender. “I’m not particular. Give me whatever you got on tap.” He settled into his seat, prepared for an extremely long wait.

  By the time Misty rushed inside the bar, Brick was on his fifth brew and feeling nice. He paid his tab and rose unsteadily from the bar stool.

  “I hope you’re not drunk.”

  “I’m cool.”

  “Are you sure?” Misty handed him a shiny bag. “I had to go buy another damn Betty Boop apron.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll explain in a minute,” she said in a conspiratorial voice, cutting a suspicious eye at the bartender. “You have to go back upstairs. I’ll walk with you to the elevator.”

  Brick’s stomach sank. “I can’t go back up there. That bitch was weird. She told me to get rough with her, and then after I did what she wanted, she started threatening to press charges against me.” He swallowed nervously.

  “I’m not talking about her. Fuck that talking-with-an-accent slut. She doesn’t even live in this country. She’s from somewhere in Europe. What the fuck I care about a bitch that can’t be a repeat customer? Bitch better not press any damn charges. She paid for you to get rough and I have her email as proof. I’m talking about another customer. Luckily, I had my laptop with me in the whip. I checked my emails and I was able to pull together a quick rendezvous. I talked the freak into checking into a room right here in this hotel.” Misty bobbed her head happily. “Your next client is a dude. He liked the Domesticated Bitch picture.”

  “I’m tired, Misty. I’m not feelin’ up to it.” There was a pleading tone in Brick’s voice.

  Exasperated, Misty raked her fingers through her hair. “Are you trying to stress me out?”

  “No, but—”

  “But, nothing. Don’t start your shit with me,” she warned. “There’s a customer upstairs waiting for you; he already paid.” Misty jabbed the elevator button. “He’s in room 726. When you walk in his suite, don’t even talk. Just give him the bag with the apron. He wants to wear it. All you have to do is pull your pants down and let him spread cream cheese on your jawn. That’s it.”

  “What?” A look of revulsion covered Brick’s face.

  Misty sighed. “The freak said he likes cheese sausage. He wants some cheese on your meat before he goes down on it.” Misty shrugged. “Hey, it’s easy money. You’ll be in and out of there in twenty minutes or less.” She scowled in thought. “That Betty Boop shit is such a success. In the future, we’re gonna have to travel with a couple of those jawns on hand. I’ll be damned if I’m going keep buying the bitches.”

  The elevator doors opened. Misty gave Brick a pat on his ass. “Go get ’im, boo. Oh, yeah—one more thing…he wants you to turn him over on your lap and smack his ass with a frying pan a couple of times before you let him taste that cheese sausage.”

  Brick stepped forward, preventing the elevator doors from closing. “I’m not into that spanking shit and you know it. That bitch, Yoyin, made me work her over. I ain’t got no more violence left in me.”

  Unsympathetic, Misty rolled her eyes at Brick. “In this business, you do what you gotta do. At least he brought his own frying pan. That helps, doesn’t it?”

  Brick stood motionless for a few moments. Defeated, he stepped backward inside the elevator.

  Satisfied, Misty gave him an approving smile. “Make sure he develops a strong appetite for your meat. We need as many return customers as we can get.” Just before the doors closed, Misty yelled, “Don’t forget to grab the apron before you bounce!”

  CHAPTER 17

  Misty snapped her cell phone shut. Slimy bastard! Hard knots of anger coiled inside her stomach. She’d just been told by Dane that he was in Philly. In an unnecessarily arrogant tone, he’d revealed that he’d been in town since early afternoon and was currently at his cousin’s house—smoking weed and sitting around, bullshitting. Even worse, he told her that he was going to hang out with his cousin and he’d see her tomorrow.

  Oh, hell no, he wasn’t! If she had to walk him to her X5 at gunpoint, that nigga was coming home with her today!

  She’d been sending him money and waiting for his ass for almost two weeks and he didn’t have the decency to give her his flight information. She would have gladly picked him up at the airport and brought him back to her crib.

  She wasn’t the least bit concerned about Brick’s reaction to the sudden change in their lifestyle. She’d been throwing hints and mentally preparing Brick for Dane’s arrival—preparing him for life as part of a threesome.

  Dane, on the other hand, didn’t know what he was getting into. She’d told him about her pimp game, but she hadn’t delved into the extent of her personal involvement with Brick. Yes, she’d mentioned that Brick was a little slow and that he pretty much did whatever she wanted, but she didn’t tell him that she and Brick had been inseparable since childhood. Dane would simply have to adjust. She’d soften him up with the new diamond studs. After she bought him a new wardrobe, lined his pockets with paper, he’d soon see the benefit in keeping Brick around.

  If Dane refused to share the bed with her and Brick, then Brick could always sleep in her office—or on the sofa in the living room.

  With Dane sharing their crib, there would be ample opportunities for Brick to reap some benefits. He could watch, jerk off to the sounds of their lovemaking, and if things went the way she planned, Brick would be able to join her and Dane from time to time. Mmm, she could just imagine the joy of feeling Brick’s tongue slide against her clit, while Dane banged her from behind, doggy-style.

  She’d fit Brick in the picture. No matter how many dudes she fell in love with, Brick was her nigga for life. And if Dane didn’t treat her right, she’d make sure Brick gave him an ass-whipping that he’d never forget.

  Misty rushed around, getting herself together, and then it dawned on her that she was in a hell of a predicament. Her mom’s dance class ended at seven. Thomasina would throw up her hands and try to physically fight Misty if she left her stranded again. As small as she was, Misty could hold her own, but truth be told, without Brick’s help, Misty wouldn’t be able to do shit with her wild-ass mother.

  “Brick, I need a favor. I need you to go pick up my mom from her line-dancing class.”

  His eyebrows rose. “Huh? Come again?” Brick asked, without taking his eyes off the television screen. His shoulders dipped and moved from side to side as he played a football video game. “Fuck that. No! You know your mom don’t wanna see me. And I’m not trying to see her ignorant ass. Why can’t you pick her up?” He continued clicking the controller, eyes glued to the screen.

  Misty cocked her head to the side, her voice taking on a serious tone. “I’m trying to get our money right. I’m working on a big deal. The client is some important dude. He doesn’t want to leave a paper trail, so he wants to sit down and have a face-to-face meeting,” she said, making up the story as she went along.

  “Yo, Misty. That money deal is gonna fall through if I get locked up. I swear to God, if your mom comes out of her mouth with some real grimy shit, I’m gon’ punch her in her head. Real rap. After she calls the cops and gets me locked up, then what? How you gon’ eat, then?”

  Dang! Brick was coming at her neck. He really hated her mother. She couldn’t blame him. Misty quickly went into damage-control mode. When Brick lost his temper and went off like this, she had no choice but to humble herself and calm him down. “Baby, I already talked to my mom. I told her you’re picking her up and I also told her to act nice.”

  “I don’t need her to act nice. All she gotta do is stay the fuck outta my face!” he bellowed. “I’m tired of listening to her call me outta my name. I’m warning you, Misty, if your mom can’t control her mouth, then I’m gon’ act like I can’t control my fist. Now, think abo
ut it—you sure you want me to give your mom a ride?”

  Misty assumed a pitiful expression. “Brick, I don’t have a choice. Like I said, she’s gonna act right. I promise.”

  “I’ve been on my grind all week. All I wanna do is fall back. Can’t a nigga chill on his day off?” Fire shot from Brick’s eyes as he stared at the screen, pressing hard on the buttons on the controller, like he was trying to break a couple of legs of the opposing team of animated players.

  “Look, baby,” Misty said softly, “when this deal goes through, I won’t have to work you so hard. This new client is willing to sign a ninety-day contract for you to serve his wife,” Misty said, lying through her teeth.

  Brick frowned, put down the controller and cradled his chin. “I gotta fuck dude’s wife ninety times?”

  “No! He wants you to serve her up about once a week, and he’s willing to commit to a three-month contract. He’s paying in advance—big bucks. Cash!” Misty chuckled. “For the kind of gravy dude is willing to throw around, I should let my mom walk the hell home. It would make good business sense for you to join in on the meeting.”

  Brick scowled. “Why?”

  “You know, show good faith by letting you get acquainted with his wife tonight. Give her a sample of what she’ll be getting.”

  Brick furrowed his brows. He hadn’t planned on working tonight. He was trying to enjoy his free time. Maybe chauffeuring Thomasina wouldn’t be too bad after all.

  “But I don’t want to piss my mother off. Who knows when we’ll need her signature again? Come on, baby. I need you to have my back. You gotta help me out and go pick my mom up from her class.”

  “Aiight,” Brick said, his sour expression revealing that the last thing in the world he wanted to do was be anywhere near Misty’s mother. He glanced at his new Fossil watch. “What time should I leave?” he asked with a loud sigh.

  “I think you should leave now! You know how traffic is on Wadsworth Avenue. By the time you circle the block a couple times, she’ll be ready.” Holding a tube of lip gloss, Misty pointed the shiny tip toward Brick. “Please don’t have my mother standing around waiting.”

  Reluctantly, he put his football game on pause. “Don’t worry, the sooner I scoop her up and drop her ass off, the sooner I can get back to the crib and finish chillin’.”

  Misty’s eyes darted at the empty beer bottles. “And please don’t drive like a maniac.”

  “I’m not drunk.”

  “Not yet.”

  He picked up a can of Budweiser, snapped it open, and guzzled it down. “Now, I’m feeling nice enough to deal with your mom.”

  “I know she can be real ignorant sometimes, but don’t let her get to you. She can’t understand what I see in you. But that’s our business, right, boo?”

  “Yeah, you right,” he said solemnly.

  “If my mom wants to stop and pick up some groceries or something, just do it. For me.” Misty paused in thought. “In fact, I want you to offer to take her grocery shopping or something.”

  “What?” Brick looked horrified.

  “We need to keep Thomasina Bernard in a real good mood. Feel me?”

  No! Keeping the peace, Brick gave a head nod, but the thought of walking around a supermarket with Misty’s mom was about as farfetched as her greeting him politely.

  Thomasina approached the X5. Brick tilted his chin in acknowledgment and assembled his lips to form a cautious smile.

  “Where’s Misty?” Thomasina demanded; her mouth scrunched in irritation at the sight of Brick sitting behind the wheel.

  Here we go! Brick’s slightly smiling lips quickly curled into a defensive knot. “Didn’t she tell you that I was coming to pick you up?” He barely managed to keep the bass out of his voice. While his left hand gripped the steering wheel, his right hand, restless on his lap, balled into a ready fist. He steadied his tone. “She was supposed to get in touch with you and tell…”

  Thomasina gave Brick a scathing look and then waved her hand—cutting off his explanation. She flung open the passenger door. “I’ve been line-dancing for the past hour. How do you figure I had time to talk to my daughter on the phone?” She pulled her cell out of her pocketbook and scrolled through the calls. “She didn’t call,” she said accusingly.

  Brick glanced away. Misty promised to call her mom; she’d given Brick her word. She knew her mom had beef with him. Why would she put him in such an awkward position? She probably forgot, he reconciled. “I guess she forgot,” he verbalized to Thomasina. Trying to relax, Brick unfurled his fist, and turned the music up a notch. He hoped Thomasina would take a hint. Be quiet and enjoy the ride. If she kept running her mouth, she might fuck around and make an abrasive remark that didn’t sit well with him. If that were the case, who knew what angry demons he’d unleash on her?

  Determined to yak, Thomasina spoke in a voice loud enough to be heard over the music that blared from the speakers. “That girl sure is shiesty. Misty knows she still owes me a trip to the mall. All that stuff she bought me a few days ago was nice and everything, but those were her choices.”

  Brick shrugged. He had no idea what Misty’s mom was talking about.

  “Hell, I’d like the opportunity to shop for myself. You know what I mean, Brick?”

  Appreciative that Thomasina’s anger was not directed at him, he gave a noncommittal nod. That was the best he could do. Thomasina had no idea that her redirected anger had saved her from getting a busted lip and a few missing teeth. Even better, Brick wouldn’t have to face aggravated assault charges.

  “Something’s wrong with Misty,” her mother commented.

  Brick cut a curious eye at Thomasina.

  “I’m beginning to think that being too pretty isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Being real good-looking is probably as bad as being real ug…” Thomasina’s voice trailed off.

  Here we go; this bitch is about to start throwing slurs. Putting his guard back up, he let his left hand slide off the steering wheel and let it rest on his thick thigh, clenched up, ready to go up inside somebody’s ignorant-ass mouth.

  “I know you know what I’m talking about. Take for example, the way people stare at you on account of that scar…now, that has to make you feel different than regular people. Well, Misty is in the same predicament.”

  Surprisingly, Brick didn’t feel the urge to knock the shit out of Thomasina. Curiosity over what she had to say about Misty’s situation pacified his building rage.

  “People have been staring and grinning at that girl since the day she was born. Strangers used to approach me and beg for the chance to hold my pretty baby in their arms. Acting like if they held her, some of her beauty might rub off on them. I couldn’t even take Misty around my other friends who had little girls. She outshined them so bad, it just didn’t seem fair. Think about it? How many girlfriends does Misty have?”

  Brick shrugged. “None.”

  “You want to know why? Because no girl with any amount of self-respect would want to stand next to a young woman as beautiful as Misty. There’s not a soul I’ve ever seen, except a movie star, who can hold a candle to Misty. And we don’t have movie stars running around in Philly, so Misty has to be the prettiest thing most people have ever set their eyes on.”

  “You right,” Brick agreed. People did gawk at Misty, stunned that such a gorgeous woman walked among mere mortals. Brick was sure Misty could have been a movie star if she’d gone to Hollywood and tried out for a part. But Misty enjoyed criminal activity much better than something that would require keeping regular hours and following any kind of orders. But fuck all that, how did Miss Thomasina figure he and Misty were in the same category?

  Brick cut an eye at Miss Thomasina. Misty and her mom didn’t have anything in common except their height and their sass. Both were short, only five feet or so, but Misty was slender and her mom was short and curvy. Misty didn’t get her looks from her mother. Miss Thomasina looked all right and everything, but she didn’t look like she was ev
en related to Misty.

  Brick knew Misty’s father was some Hispanic dude who had used her mom to get a green card, but to hear Miss Thomasina tell it, she sounded like she was taking full credit for Misty’s looks.

  “Starting from the day I gave birth to her, all Misty ever heard was, ‘Ooo! Oh my God! She’s beautiful. Can I hold her?’ I couldn’t even walk through the mall with her when she was toddling around. People always stopped to gawk at us. I had people ask if they could hold her while I snapped a picture. Now, that’s where I drew the line. Hell, no, I wasn’t letting potential child snatchers take a picture of my child. Brick, I’m telling you, you would have thought Misty was a child celebrity, the way people acted when they saw her.”

  Brick nodded. He knew exactly what Miss Thomasina was talking about.

  “Now, me, myself, I’m the first to admit that I’m just average-looking. I used to blush with pride when people made such fuss over my pretty baby. I sort of felt like the compliments were being extended to me as well.”

  Brick gave a hint of a smile. “I can dig it.” He often felt the same way. Sharing Misty’s shine made a mufucka feel good about himself—scarred-up face and all.

  “But now I see that all that finger pointing and people gathering around her because of her looks must have given Misty some kind of a complex.” Thomasina’s tone switched from cheerful to somber.

  Misty ain’t got no complex! How the hell did her mother figure that being extra pretty had given Misty a complex? Brick had a complex. He was aware that he had low self-esteem issues. But Misty was a stunna and she knew it. She used her looks to get her and Brick where they were today. Miss Thomasina was talking some bullshit now, and Brick started tuning her out, sorry he’d even bothered to give her a few minutes of ear time.

  He wanted to turn the music up extra loud, but that would probably make Miss Thomasina mad and then she’d start her shit. He couldn’t wait to pull in front of her house.