Dollar Bill

by Joy

  “We cool,” Dollar replied.

  “Let me dance for you,” Storm said, getting out of her seat and pressing her pussy up against Dollar’s knee.

  As Dollar licked his lips he couldn’t help but be slightly turned on. “The game is crazy,” Dollar said. “You wanna dance for me, love?”

  “Oooh, I do,” Storm said as she closed her eyes and allowed Dollar to finger her pussy through her costume bottoms.

  “Cool,” Dollar said.

  Dollar finished off his drink and followed Storm into the Champagne Room. He handed the one hundred dollar bill to the bouncer who was guarding the entryway and proceeded to get his sweet bud satisfied.

  “Oooh oooh oooh ahh ahh ahh yeah yeah yeah what what what” were the words that crooned out of the ceiling speakers of the passionate room that was lit with one lamp that had a purple light bulb in it. The room was about the size of Dollar’s old jail cell, but it was plush. It looked like something from out of the seventies. The lamp sat on a glass end table with a black metal frame next to a big, velvet-like couch with purple satin pillows to match the lighting. The walls were painted a shiny black and the floor was covered with black furry rugs. Across from the couch was a mirrored bar with a black pleather ice bucket sitting on it. Inside the ice bucket was a bottle of Asti.

  Storm headed straight over to the bar and grabbed two of the champagne glasses that were lined up on the bar. She filled them to the top and then walked over to the couch where Dollar had sat down and made himself comfortable.

  “Cheers,” Storm said as she handed Dollar a glass of champagne. “Drink up, baby, but allow me to intoxicate you.”

  “Go on and talk that shit.” Dollar winked as he spread his legs, sat an elbow on each one, with the hand free of champagne cupping his chin.

  Storm began to roll her hips and allow her tongue to stroll across her top lip. All Dollar could imagine was her tongue strolling across the tip of his dick.

  “‘I’m just an R&B thug babe,’” Dollar lip-synched to the song. It must be a crime not to have R. Kelly’s songs playing in a strip club. It surely wasn’t the place for Luther. R’s shit made a nigga wanna stop whatever he was doing and fuck. Damn that making love and making babies shit Luther specializes in. Gangsta niggaz wanna fuck. And for another Benji, that’s exactly what Storm offered Dollar.

  Dollar never thought in a million years he would trick, pay for some muthafuckin’ pussy while there were hoes giving the shit away for free. But he had been locked up for eight years and the pussy was in his face. No nigga in their right mind, in his situation, could have turned it away. No nigga in their right mind.

  Dollar went in his pocket and pulled out a wad of money. He peeled a one hundred dollar bill from the wad and placed it in Storm’s hand. Then he pulled out his dick. It was hard from just thinking about getting ready to run up in some pussy. He had even pre-ejaculated in his drawers.

  After properly placing a Magnum-style condom on his penis, Dollar watched as Storm’s pussy sucked in all ten inches of his dick. Dollar felt like he was watching a magic show the way Storm made that shit disappear.

  Storm put on a brief rodeo show for Dollar. She wrapped both legs around Dollars neck and bounced it out. Dollar watched as his dick went in and out of her, pussy juice flowing, dripping down his nut sack. Then Storm flipped it on him backward so that her ass smacked down on Dollar’s six pack. That’s when Dollar exploded. She rolled them hips like an ocean, and Dollar couldn’t hold back the tidal wave.

  Storm could feel Dollar’s muscle flexing inside of her, so she proceeded to make the appropriate moans and groans to enhance his climax. Her pussy was working Dollar’s dick like it was an old Atari 2600 joystick and she was playing Centipede. Once she knew Dollar had shot out all the juices he could, she then rested back on his chest and wrapped his arms around her body.

  It didn’t last as long as Dollar would have liked it to, but it had been awhile since he busted one up inside some pussy. There was no way to prolong it. It was quick, easy, and greasy, but it was pleasing.

  “Did you like that, baby?” Storm asked as she sucked on Dollar’s middle finger. “Did you, poppa? Did it feel good to you?”

  “You know that shit was on point,” Dollar moaned while kissing Storm’s neck.

  “Stop it. That tickles.” Storm giggled, putting her head down and getting off of Dollar.

  “Oh, now you wanna play the shy role.”

  Storm blushed. “So when you gonna come back and see me?” she asked as she began gathering her costume, which was Dollar’s hint that it was time to keep it moving.

  “I ain’t really into trickin’, ma. This was just a one-time thang, but I’ll hook you up with a drink or two the next time I roll through. Is that all right? Is that all right with you?” Dollar said, zipping up his pants.

  “Yeah, that’s what they all say,” Storm said. “But you’ll be back. Trust me; you’ll be back.”

  Storm vanished through a doorway leading into the changing room and Dollar let himself out of the Champagne Room. The first thing he saw was Tommy hugged up with some gold-tooth grill dude. Dude was all up in Tommy’s face, playing in her hair.

  Dollar took a seat back at the stage and made eye contact with Tommy. He widened his eyes and nodded his head as a sign to let her know that he was waiting to talk with her.

  Five minutes went by and Dollar was becoming impatient. Eventually Tommy stood up and headed Dollar’s way, but the dude who had been hawking her was right behind her. Tommy looked at Dollar and held up her index finger telling him to wait a minute. It didn’t take Dollar long to figure out that she was headed to the Champagne Room.

  Just then everything started going in slow motion. Dollar pictured ol’ dude doing to Tommy what he had just done to Storm. That shit wasn’t about to go down with him up in the spot. Dollar got up from his chair and approached Tommy as she was just about to head inside the Champagne Room.

  “Yo, T,” Dollar said. “I need to holla at you for a minute.”

  “It’s Wine,” Tommy corrected Dollar through gritted teeth.

  “Yeah, whatever. I need to holla at you real quick,” Dollar replied.

  “Is this yo’ man or somethin’?” the dude said to Tommy with a crooked face.

  “Naw,” Tommy replied. “We just friends.”

  “Then your friend needs to step. You workin’,” the dude said, pushing Tommy on into the room.

  “Mafucka, you don’t know nothing about this here,” Dollar said, pointing to Tommy and then to himself.

  Smelling that some shit was about to go down any minute, Tommy put her hand on Bear the bouncer’s chest to calm him as he began to flex.

  “Look, let me talk to my homie for a minute. You go in there and wait for me,” Tommy said to the dude. “When I get back, I’ll play an extra song for you, baby. I promise you it will be worth the wait.”

  Dollar wanted to puke, but he laughed instead. This scene was unreal.

  “It’s cool, Bear,” Tommy said.

  The dude followed Tommy’s instructions, and once he was out of sight, Tommy turned toward Dollar with devil eyes and said, “Follow me!”

  Tommy escorted Dollar out to the parking lot of the club. She was steaming mad. She couldn’t wait to get his ass outside so she could let him have it.

  “Do I come up on your job and interrupt what the fuck you doing?” Tommy scolded as her breath created a fog from the cold.

  “Look, my bad,” Dollar said. “You right. I don’t even know what got into me. I just couldn’t sit out there and wait for you while you went in that room to do God knows what.”

  Tommy was silent. She looked at Dollar in disgust. “Is that what you think of me? You think I was about to fuck ol’ dude just because I was going into the Champagne Room with him? Why, because you fucked Storm?”

  The look on Dollar’s face gave Tommy the answer she was looking for.

  “You triflin’ ass,” Tommy said. She shook her head and look
ed down at the ground. “Well, I’m not like Storm. I get paid to dance and that’s what I do. That’s all I do and I’m offended you would think otherwise. Yeah, like I said, I sell a little bud on the side to some of these cats, but that’s it.”

  “T, I’m sorry,” Dollar said with his head down like a puppy dog.

  “Sorry for what, fucking Storm or thinking I’m a slut?”

  “Whoa,” Dollar said. “I don’t have to apologize to you for who I fuck, do I?”

  “I didn’t mean it like that so don’t flatter yourself. Besides, Storm’s a dyke anyway.”

  “You said that like a true hater. Is Tommy jealous?” Dollar said, cooing at Tommy like she was a little girl.

  “Hell no, I ain’t jealous. What do I have to be jealous of? Storm really is a dyke.”

  “She might be bi, but she sho ain’t no dyke,” Dollar said, grabbing himself as to insinuate that he had beat that pussy up.

  “Remember when we checked Ral into Short Stay and I was talking to those two chicks? Well, Storm was one of them. The other one was her wife, girlfriend or whatever. Her name is Thunder. They been together for four years. Storm does dick on the side for money only. Thunder is straight pussy. And them bitches is raw.”

  “I knew I recognized her face from somewhere. They live at that hotel?” Dollar asked.

  “No. They work up out of there. They got a nice-ass crib out there in Merrillville. Storm got two daughters who go to private school. The girls call both Storm and Thunder Mommy.”

  “But I thought you said ol’ girl was a strict vegetarian, no meat,” Dollar said.

  “She is. Thunder don’t get down with men. Them kids are Storms. When the two of them put in work, they exin’ a nigga,” Tommy replied.

  “What?”

  “They gettin’ a cat high off that liquid ecstasy and robbin’ his dumb ass. Storm does what she needs to do and Thunder strips him for his goodies. Don’t let them find out the muthafucka married.” Tommy laughed. “They will blackmail his ass ’til Kingdom come.”

  “Hell no. Them bitches got hustle like that?” Dollar was impressed.

  “As quiet as it’s kept, they done put a couple of fools to sleep on that ex. They don’t even look like the type, especially when you see them out with their daughters. They be lookin’ like the perfect little mothers. Up in here, we call them Murder Mommies, also known as hit hoes.” Tommy was referencing one of Biggie’s songs with the nicknames.

  Tommy could see the wheels in Dollar’s head churning. “What you thinking?” she asked.

  “Oh, nothing. I’m just storing this info for future reference. You never know when a couple of hit hoes might come in handy.” Dollar winked. “Damn!” Dollar said, turning his attention to a girl getting out the passenger side of a yellow Hummer in a full-length mahogany mink coat. “Who’s that lookin’ like Lil’ Kim?”

  Tommy turned to look. “That’s Becka. Her brother, Wayne, the guy dropping her off, he sells them coats. She’s his walking advertisement,” Tommy answered.

  “Oh yeah, legit?” Dollar asked.

  “Actually, he does sell them legit. Their dad has a store in Chicago. He gets them for next to nothing. You know how they do it in Chi-Town with the furs. I hear they’re nice. Tiwana, the barmaid, her boyfriend is getting a load of them. He’s going to try to push them up North for double what he pays for them here.”

  “When’s he supposed to be coppin’ them?” Dollar asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You need to find that shit out so we can just happen to be around when the transaction takes place.” Game on!

  CHAPTER 14

  Back In Business

  It was midweek, about 7:45 p.m. Dollar wasn’t comfortable with an early evening stickup his first go-round since ’95, but hell, he was confident with his skills. He would have preferred a midnight or early a.m. stickup, but who runs around selling furs at midnight? Legit ones, anyway.

  Dollar’s big, buff self was crammed in Ral’s little hooptie. He felt like a clown at the circus in one of them li’l buggy cars. He had just dropped Ral off around the corner. All the pieces to the game were in place with the exception of the queen, which was Tommy. Dollar was awaiting her call on his cell.

  “Damn,” Dollar said, fiddling with the radio dial. “This bitch ain’t even got a tape deck in it. What was I thinking hooking my boy up with some shit like this?”

  As Dollar tapped his fingernails on the dashboard, he noticed how dull and rigid they were. “My nails are fucked up,” he said out loud as he began to gnaw on them. “I’m trippin’.” He laughed. “Since when do I give a fuck about my fingernails? I’m acting like a ho. Just relax, Dollar. Just relax.”

  Dollar continued to tap his nails on the dashboard. For some reason, even though he was wearing a ridiculously overpriced Phat Farm denim hookup and some clean AND1s, and was sporting a nice, fresh cut, which left him with a shiny, bald head, his nails were messing up his total look.

  “Niggaz get they nails done too,” Dollar said, trying to convince himself. “Fuck it! I’m gettin’ these shitz did.”

  Just then Dollar’s cell phone rang and he answered it.

  “He just dropped Becka off, so it’s on,” Tommy said.

  “Good lookin’ out. Peace,” Dollar said, closing the flap on his cell phone.

  A few minutes went by before Dollar saw the bright yellow Hummer H2 pull up across the street from him and park. Dollar sat at attention.

  “Dis mafucka rollin’ an H2 in the heart of the hood,” Dollar said, laughing as he used his cell phone to call Ral’s pager and key in the code. “This cat deserves to get got.”

  On cue, Ral cleared the corner. He was wearing an olive green down coat with feathers poking out, some dirty jeans, and a funky baseball cap. He was looking like the recovering addict he was. He killed time by digging in garbage cans, collecting cans and whatnot. In the meantime, Wayne had gotten out of his Hummer and knocked on the door of Tiwana and her boyfriend’s apartment. Once assured that Tiwana’s boyfriend was home, Wayne returned to his truck. With three coats in arm multiplied by a total of four trips, he hauled the dozen minks into the apartment.

  Back in the day, Dollar would have probably pretended to be a customer looking to buy some furs. Once Wayne showed up, Dollar would have robbed him for whatever he had on him. But according to Romeo, that was one of Dollar’s mistakes. There wasn’t a need to befriend a mark and play pretend. Just sneak up from behind and handle them. All that other miscellaneous crap took up too much time and left room for error. Romeo brought up the point that if Cartel and his boys hadn’t been shot dead, they would have known exactly who to retaliate against. Now, with the situation at hand, if anything, Wayne would feel as though he had been set up by Tiwana’s boyfriend and that’s who he would look to seek revenge on.

  After Wayne’s fourth and final trip, Tiwana’s boyfriend closed the door behind him. That was Dollar and Ral’s sign that money was about to exchange hands. After ten minutes the apartment door opened and Wayne exited.

  As soon as he opened the door to the Hummer, Ral caught him off guard. “You got some change?” Ral asked. “Driving a fine automobile such as this, I know you got some change.”

  “Man, kick mud,” Wayne said. “I ain’t got shit for you.”

  “Then maybe you got something for me,” Dollar said, coming up behind Wayne and placing the gun he’d copped from Tommy into his back.

  “Oh, shit,” Wayne said, being caught off guard.

  “Yeah, oh shit is right, nigga,” Dollar said, cocking the gun.

  “Here’s my keys,” Wayne said. “Take it. Fuck it. Just don’t kill me.”

  “Look, we don’t want to kill you and we don’t want your truck,” Dollar said. “Just empty your pockets.”

  “Empty my pockets?” Wayne repeated.

  “Yeah, pull ’em out, nigga. Turn ’em inside out.”

  Wayne nervously put his hands down in his pockets and said, “Don’
t shoot. I’m just doin’ what you said. I’m going in my pockets.”

  Wayne pulled his pant pockets inside out and gave Dollar the contents, which was only a few thousand dollars.

  “Empty those pockets too,” Dollar said, pointing to Wayne’s jacket pockets.

  “These pockets too?” Wayne repeated.

  “What the fuck are you, an echo?” Ral added. “Yes, them pockets too.”

  Wayne emptied his inside jacket pockets that made the proceeds of the stickup around $30,000 in all hundred dollar bills. Meanwhile, Ral had raided the truck and retrieved a woman’s long black mink coat.

  Dollar forced Wayne to get into the back of his Hummer and ball up in a fetal position on the floor.

  “Count to one hundred Mississippis before getting up,” Ral ordered Wayne. “If you get up, our other partner who’s watchin’ all this go down is going to blow your muthafuckin’ head off. You got that?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Wayne said nervously and then started to count. “One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi.”

  As Wayne continued counting, Dollar and Ral headed for Ral’s car. Ral had trouble lugging the huge mink that was secured inside a clear clothing bag. Since Ral was frail, weighing in at about a buck twenty-five, the weight of the coat slowed Ral down. He even tripped and fell running with it and had a hard time getting the car door closed because he kept shutting the coat in the door. This bootleg scene from a Three Stooges episode was starting to piss Dollar off.

  “Why the fuck you always gotta do some extra shit?” Dollar asked. “We got the money. You need to learn how to keep your eye on the prize. That’s what fucked us up eight years ago. We doin’ things different now, Ral.”

  Dollar steered the car with one hand while fondling the coat on Ral’s lap with the other. “That’s a bitch’s coat anyway. What the fuck you gon’ do with a woman’s coat?”

  “Do you know how much pussy this can get me, amigo?” Ral replied.

  “Man, Ral, don’t fuck with me.” Dollar gave Ral the side eye, letting him know this wasn’t the time for his clownin’.

  “Seriously, how much loot we get away with from ol’ dude?”