She sits here debating and having second thoughts about it all. Storm and Wendy are trying their best to walk her through and teach her the ropes. “Just block it all out and look at it as business,” Wendy says as if she’s a master of the game now. She speaks with much more confidence now that it’s as if she just wasn’t in the same boat a short time ago.
“I know you’re thinking about your husband but scratch that shit,” Storm says. “Where he at he good. He get three square meals and he got a roof over his head. It’s you and your kids that are out here in the world that won’t have those luxuries if you don’t make shit happen. That’s your reality right now. Shit! I’m gon’ tell you like an old bitch told me… A wet pussy and a dry purse don’t match.”
Jazz takes it all in and accepts it as truth. She’s behind the eight-ball right now with a mortgage, car notes, and school tuition on her back. The few dollars her husband left behind are depleted at this point. He calls for her help, not once asking her where the help is coming from. That thought alone makes Jazz see him as selfish, yet she never says a word about it to him. She feels that he’s self-centered and only cares about his own well-being, and that is one of the justifications she uses to help her even consider betraying him in this manner. When she looks at it in that perspective, the guilt is erased temporarily.
“Look at it like this,” Toy says. She pauses long enough to dump the E pill. “The reality is you are gonna have to step out on your marriage sooner or later,” she says while holding the pill on her tongue. She turns the water bottle up to her mouth and guzzles. She swallows the pill before speaking. “It’s gonna happen. Eventually, you are going to need some help. You can fuck with some dude and take the risk of falling in love with him and betraying your husband and eventually abandoning him. Or you can do what you gotta do from a business standpoint with no emotional ties and never have to worry about it getting back to your husband.”
“That’s what I told her,” Wendy says.
“Look, I’m not here to get you to do nothing you don’t want to do,” Storm says with no emotion whatsoever. “If you want to fall back on it all, that’s cool with me. Just get the money back to me that I spent to get you here and we can scratch all this. Ain’t no pressure. The choice is yours. What’s it gonna be?”
The three of them look to her, wondering what her response will be. Jazz leans her head back with a deep exhale. She looks at Wendy with hatred for even talking her into this. She slowly clasps her right hand over her left. She slides the glistening three-karat diamond wedding band from her ring finger and tucks it into her pocketbook. “We here now,” she says softly. “Let’s go.”
27
Orlando, Florida
Amway Center Arena
Hours Later
Storm is stepping gracefully in a full-length snow white mink, a white mink hat, and white knee-high, strappy stilettos. She’s looking like Snow White without the dwarfs. She feels a bit overdressed to be going to a basketball arena, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. She also feels crazy in fur in fifty degree weather, but she isn’t the only one. The huge sunglasses on her eyes make her look like a celebrity, who is trying to be on the low but still screaming for attention. All the onlookers gawk at her, trying to figure out what famous person she could be.
She picks up her step, realizing that the Dunk Contest has already started but she has no problem being fashionably late. Up ahead she spots a familiar face standing to the side of the arena. Wendy glows like a lightning bug in the dark. Storm sees her engaging in conversation with a man and is glad to see her working.
As she gets closer and recognizes the man’s face, her blood boils. Johnny Cash stands in front of her, running his mouth as usual. His stable of young hood mice is not far away from him. She was sure he wouldn’t miss this event, and as much as she prayed for his presence, she still was not mentally prepared to see him again. The fury she felt that night they informally met is nothing compared to the fury she feels this moment.
She contains her rage as she approaches them. Wendy’s back is to Storm, so she doesn’t see her coming, but Johnny Cash does. As he spots her over Wendy’s shoulder, that cocky smile from the other night spreads over his face. His cocky aura livens. Storm stops short right behind Wendy, who turns around with a huge smile on her face. She can feel the rage burning through Storm’s sunglasses as the smile vanishes.
Out of nowhere, a crisp backhand presents itself, sending Wendy back a few steps while holding her face. All she can do is hold her face in shock before the embarrassment settles in. A few people standing close by have peeped it and are now staring. “You laughing with the enemy?” Storm asks.
Wendy stands there with her neck stiff from whiplash, nose running like a faucet and her face stinging. Storm has slapped snot out of her nose. She wipes her nose with embarrassment. She senses another backhand brewing and decides to get away before it takes place. She backs away with her head hanging low in humiliation.
Storm steps close to Johnny Cash, who is still wearing the smirk of sarcasm. He doesn’t budge until he feels the bulge from her pocket jam into his gut. She holds the gun, pointed at him. “If it wasn’t so many people out here right now, I would blow that dumb-ass smile right off your face and your head with it,” she says with her lip trembling as if she’s fighting to refrain from doing so.
He’s stuck and the smirk has vanished. He looks around, hoping someone sees it, but even the people who do don’t know she has a gun resting on him. She’s now chin to chest with him. “I told you we would meet again, but you thought it was a game. Laugh now.”
Johnny Cash’s faithful, bottom-chick steps over to his aid and Storm acts as if she doesn’t even see her. He looks to her with a fear in his eyes that she’s never seen. He gives her a sign by simply shaking his head no.
Now standing right behind Storm is Mud and his man that he brought along for the ride, as well as reassurance. They stand behind her, heads on swivel, watching their surroundings. Johnny Cash becomes more fearful as he recognizes their presence.
Storm continues on. “Listen, take you and your dirty little bitches and y’all blow the joint. Ain’t enough money here for all of us. We got it from here. Matter of fact, the next few events, we got those, too. You got a pass tonight. Take it as that. From this day on, anytime you see me in the building, recognize strength and get out of my way. Respect my handle and respect my pimping.”
She slowly backs away from him, gun still aimed in her pocket. “Now y’all go and pack it up before shit get crazy out here.” Mud and his man step closer. Johnny Cash wastes not another second. He steps away from them with a fake cool and calm demeanor.
Storm looks over to his bottom-bitch who is staring at her angrily. “And let me tell you something, you lil filthy bitch. The next time you step in my face, I will leave you and him right where you do it at. Since you wanna play bottom-bitch, after I smash him out, I will be sure to stack y’all two motherfuckers on top of each other, you on the bottom.”
Johnny Cash wraps his arm around the girl and leads her away. Storm steps toward the entrance of the arena as if nothing has happened. Mud and his man follow many feet behind like they aren’t together. She didn’t have him drive here for thirty hours for reinforcement because she really doesn’t need them for that.
Her only reason for having him drive here is to transport the guns because she couldn’t bring them on the plane. Johnny Cash caught her butt naked last time, but that will never happen again. From here on out, she will never be butt naked again. If she covers an event in Tahiti, she will find a way to have her guns meet her. That night, at Super Bowl Weekend, she made the vow that she will never again be caught with her pants down.
28
Storm and Toy sit side by side in their floor seats, watching the Dunk Contest, pretending to be concerned with it. Really they are watching the audience like hawks looking for work. Wendy sit
s a few seats away from them with empty seats in between them. Her face is still stinging from the backhand and her anger is still burning inside. She looks at Storm through the corner of her eye, pissed to no end with her.
If she thought she could get her hit back with no repercussions she would, but Toy already warned her to take the slap with a grain of salt and just chalk it up. They haven’t said a word to each other since they’ve been in here. Storm is curious to know what Wendy and him were talking about but hasn’t asked yet because it may only piss her off even more. She feels the conversation will present itself eventually.
She feels Wendy had no business interacting with him because that could have easily given him the impression that he could infiltrate their camp. Her perception; if he can make her smile, he can make her crossover. Humiliating Wendy publicly, brought Storm enjoyment and she has no regrets. She feels the slap was beyond justified because she had to send a message to Wendy that there are consequences for going against the grain. She had to prove to Johnny Cash, her and anybody else that may have been watching and may have known what was going on that her pimping will be respected.
* * *
Meanwhile, as hard as Jazz has been trying to stay out of the way and not be noticed, it’s been impossible. Her beauty seems to be outshining the beauty of the other two and attracting the attention of men the whole time. It’s like her laidback demeanor is making them gravitate to her more. None of them see her as a working girl here trading sex for money.
Even without her wedding ring on her finger, they see her as the wifing type. Her true aura shines through. They are pushing up on her, offering her the world, and hoping she will give them a chance. That is until Wendy and Toy find a way to slide it into the conversation that she’s for sale, just as they are.
It’s surprising to her that doesn’t turn them off in the least bit. In fact, once they find that out, they end up pushing up on her harder. She’s passed so many of them off to the other girls, basically rejecting all offers. She hates to be doing this anyway, and even though she’s sacrificing her morals, she refuses to just give herself to anyone.
As the night progresses and the thoughts of her bills back at home keep jabbing at her, she realizes she has to bust a move. Still she doesn’t go for just anybody who comes at her. After many turn-offs approached her, a halfway decent man made his presence known. It wasn’t necessarily his approach or his decency that had her contemplating his offer. It was that Storm was sitting right by her and heard every word, giving her no room to deny.
Right now, Jazz lie in the king-size bed in the hotel room, looking up at the ceiling with her legs spread wide open. The man pounds away at her guts with no compassion. Tears trickle down her face. Those tears are not tears of pain. They are tears of guilt.
She can’t believe that she is betraying her husband. It’s like an out of body experience right now. As hard as he’s pounding away at her, she can’t even feel him because her body may be here, but her mind is with her husband.
The nightstand rattles from the vibration of her phone. She peeks over and through teary, cloudy eyes she recognizes the number. It’s her husband calling from jail; how ironic. She watches the phone the entire time it’s ringing and all she can think is, what is he thinking right now. Her guilt makes her feel as if he knows she’s up to no good. She’s never missed one of his phone calls since he’s been away, and she’s sure he finds that strange.
The phone finally stops ringing but starts right back up instantly. Three back to back calls and he finally gives up. The tears now cover her face. She sobs with no sound. The man opens his eyes long enough to see her face full of tears. His ego shoots to the moon, figuring he’s fucking the life out of her. This, in turn, makes him pound harder. Still she doesn’t feel him. The pain he may be bringing to her pussy is nowhere near the pain that she feels in her heart.
29
The Next Night
Storm feels like a small child or a midget in the room of so many amazingly tall men. She’s never seen so many seven-footers in her life. It’s All-Star weekend and the Western Conference beat the Eastern, which is the reason for the celebration.
The smell of money is circulating through the air. Storm knew there would be an overabundance of fine, young millionaires present, and that is why she is here. Apparently Storm isn’t the only one who knew the money would be in the building. The ratio is one man to every ten women. Nine out of every ten women are out on the dance floor shaking it up, hoping to attract the attention of the wealthy ballplayers in the building. Right now the sounds of Alicia Keys’ “Girl on Fire” has them all on the floor, showing off their sexiest moves.
Storm locks her eyes onto the money. Directly across from them, a bunch of men are popping bottles and carrying on egotistically. The men are draped in so many glistening diamonds that it’s blinding. At that table the focal point is the most valuable player of the game. Kevin Durant can barely be seen through the men surrounding him. Everyone is carrying on, treating him like royalty.
A couple of beauties approach the men and they are welcomed hospitably. Storm sees them as a threat and fears they may beat them to the money. She realizes the time is now to send her team in. “Come on, y’all. Let’s get to it.”
With no hesitation, Toy gets up and gets herself together. She quickly leaves the table and Wendy follows close behind. A few steps and she turns around to see Jazz still sitting. Storm looks at Jazz with a piercing eye. Jazz gets up and follows behind the girls.
Storm sits low in her seat and watches with satisfaction as her “Angels,” as she likes to call them, infiltrate. Toy and Wendy operate like the perfect tag-team duo. Jazz, on the other hand, appears to be out of place, but Storm is sure she will eventually pick up some game. In minutes her girls manage to dominate the situation and take all of the attention. The few girls that were there, ease away from the table one by one. Storm sits back with pride, knowing that she’s trained her girls well.
An image pops up out of nowhere on Storm’s right side. She looks over with the smirk still plastered on her face. Her eyes meet with a stranger who stands at the edge of the table. She quickly erases the smirk and replaces it with her poker face.
“Damn! Why you hiding that lovely smile?” the man asks as leans onto the table. “I saw those pretty choppers from across the room,” he teases. She peers into his eyes coldly without a verbal reply. “I don’t mean no disrespect. I just wish I was the one who could bring a smile on your face like that one I just saw.”
Storm looks away from him, making him feel like a peon, but he’s persistent. “I came to buy you a drink, but from the looks of it somebody already beat me to it,” he says as he extends his hands over the champagne. “You mind if I take a seat?” he asks while sliding the chair from under the table.
As he’s speaking the reflection from the diamonds on his watch clash into the diamonds from her bracelet. It’s like two bolts of electricity have collided; quite blinding. The glare from their diamonds bounce off each other, dancing with perfect choreography.
He can’t help but to notice the quality of her diamonds. With a jewelry package like hers, he’s sure she’s not easy to impress. He feels obligated, to at least try. On the sly, he lets his sleeve slide up his wrist to show off his bracelet. When he does, the reflection from the diamonds ricochet off the foil on the champagne bottle and bounce onto the strobe light on the ceiling. It doesn’t stop there though. From the strobe light, the reflection bounces from table to table before cutting through the mirror in front of him. He stands there glowing like a superhero.
Storm purposely looks away from the bracelet because she knows he’s throwing his hand around with hopes of her seeing it. Once that tactic doesn’t work, he reaches in his bag of desperation. He drops his car key onto the table face up, exposing the Aston Martin symbol. He grabs the back of the seat. “Yes, no, maybe?” he asks with a charming smile.
There’s an evident brick wall in between the two of them and he loves it. Nothing is more entertaining to him than a challenge. What he doesn’t know is the challenge is really just a figment of his imagination because he has her attention right now. He just doesn’t know it because she doesn’t want to make it seem so easy for him.
If she was on the market looking, he surely would be one that she would look at. He’s just her type, smooth brown skin with the wavy hair to match. His teeth are so perfect, they are suspect to her. She assumes they have to be veneers. She’s not on the market though, so none of that matters. She will humor him, though, to kill time. Another reason she will entertain him is his level of game and would love to play around with him just to keep hers tight. As they say, steel sharpens steel.
“Can I?”
“Fuck you asking me for?” she asks hastily. “This a public bar. Sit where you want,” she says before rolling her eyes.
“Feisty lil one,” he laughs. “I love ’em feisty. Just my type.”
You took the words right out of my mouth, she thinks to herself. “My type as well,” she mumbles under her breath. She looks into his eyes for the first time and neither of them blink. “You don’t even dig it, though,” she mumbles under her breath.
“I’m Money Sal… What’s your name?”
Storm stares at him with a false disgust. It’s just her normal sassiness that she displays with men, whether interested or not. She knows no other way. “Listen, all these chicks in here, you can find another to run your lil bullshit on. I ain’t with it.”
“Dig, I ain’t about the bullshit either. I see all these other chicks in here, but I’m over here. Why we even talking about them?” he says as he cracks a charming smile. “I’m here.” The fact that she seems to be unimpressed with him makes him want her even more. He prepares for a game of mental tennis, which he knows will go back and forth for minutes until he breaks her down, but he’s prepared for it.
Heartless Page 12
