by Tiana Laveen
“Oh my, Ms. Raven,” he said with indignation, veering back and placing his hand over his heart. A slightly disgusted expression creased his face as if she’d burped right next to his nose. “Now you know a true pimp doesn’t pay for pussy, baby.” He grinned. “A true pimp would have also determined, if you were a whore he was trying to pursue, that you weren’t worth the time and effort, but you see, I’m not looking to make you into my whore. I want something else…”
“And what’s that?” Her lips twisted up like a bread tie. She’d had about enough of this man, but he was handsome and suave as hell, so she endured him a bit longer. At least he was entertaining.
“Oh, sweetheart, it’s simple. Here’s what I’m going to do.” He looked away, as if someone had called his name then returned his gaze to her and leaned slightly to the side. “I’m going to arrive at your house, your real house,”—he looked up at the apartment complex then back at her—“and we’re going to go out. We’re going to have a real date, with real food, and real conversation. After which, you can decide if I get to fuck you or not.” He sucked his bottom lip as his brows dipped, veering in a bit closer to her, making her squirm and saturate her damn panties. “If I do get to take you to Smoke Island, hurray for me, and really for you too, but if I don’t, so be it.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t mean that’s the end because my main objective is not only to have sex with you, Paris, but to make you mine. I made my final decision while I’ve been standing here talking to you.”
“Oh, have you now?” She smirked.
“Before I walked across this damn street,” he said, pointing behind him, “I was still on the fence, but now I know…”
“And don’t I have some say in this?”
“Of course you do, but your eyes already told me ‘yes’…”
She hated that she was smiling in that mothafucka’s face right now. He became a complete pimp-tation, luring her into an area she’d vowed she’d never go again. He was macking the fuck out of her, and she was no novice or silly young thing. She knew exactly what he was doing, yet what made it all the more sadistically beautiful—the shit was working, despite her understanding of the scenario playing out before her.
“It’s lonely out here.” He looked briefly towards the ground. “I’m being one hundred with you. No games. No filter. Fact of the matter is, nobody wants to date a ho, yet everybody wants to date a ho, Paris. Everybody wants to date a pimp, and nobody wants to date a pimp, you feel me, baby?”
“Yeah.” She couldn’t help but agree. “I feel you, Smoke.”
“I’m tired of this shit.” he hissed, his expression growing tight.
Either he was the best actor in the whole damn world, or the man was doing his utmost to get her into his space and time. She saw loud and clear why his brand of magic worked on so many women. He was a natural at the ‘woo’.
“I’m giving you an invitation to get to know me, the real me. I want you… and if you have no objections, I will have you…”
For the first time in a long while, she was rendered speechless.
“I hate to admit this.” She sighed, knowing her self-disgust was evident in her stance and tone. “But you have me captivated. I can’t believe I’m actually considering this shit…going out with you.” She looked towards the ground, shook her head, grinning.
“Paris, I consider myself successful and respectful. But I don’t have to not have a woman in my life, just because of what I do. If I found a lady that could understand me and be there with me anyway, then that’s all I’d ever need. She’d never have to worry about a damn thing for as long as she breathed and if for some reason she couldn’t inhale any more, I’d breathe for her, all day, every day.”
Pimpology…this motherfucker is doing the damn most…
Every time she’d inch away, convince herself it was too good to be true, he’d say one more damn thing to make her hesitate, make her want to stay a bit longer and listen to this mess.
“Not every time my mouth opens, a lie is flying out, okay? Here’s something my father taught me, ‘be real when it is advantageous to be.’ We have to have split personalities to be successful in this shit. We need to know when to bullshit, when to be authentic, and know when to open up a bit more and trust someone. There’s no need to try and run game on you because you already know the game, you helped create the game and besides, you don’t fit that criteria for those endeavors.”
…And he knows how to speak. He can go from a bit of street slang—and not sound like a damn fool because of the color of his skin—to an eloquent diplomat in the same damn conversation. This fucker is unbelievable…
“I saw that…”
She smirked and hung her head. Yes, she’d laughed and smiled more times than she could count now.
“Yeah, sweetheart, you’re busted.” He grinned wide at her now. “I might be from Ohio, but there is nothing small town about me, baby. No Gomer Pyle, Opie and Andy Taylor, okay?” He raised a dark brow. “I know women. All good pimps know women, Paris. We make our living off how well we know women and I know, you’re tired of being alone, too. I can see it in those beautiful eyes of yours I just can’t seem to turn away from.”
“You’re not alone.” She pointed across the street at his ho house.
“Paris, a man can be surrounded by five million damn people and still feel deserted…”
She rolled in his words, taking every last one in.
“Why shouldn’t we go out, huh? The worst that could happen is that we can’t fucking stand each other, and end up staying out of each other’s way. No one loses from this.”
They both chuckled. From his cunning eyes, he knew he almost had her; a bit more, and she’d be in his damn palm. She’d made it so damn hard for him, but he broke her down, right to the bone.
“You’d have no worries if you got with me, Ms. Raven. You know why?”
She avoided his stunning, blue gaze, crossed her arms, but couldn’t stop grinning to save her life! Such a dominant man, this guy in front of her, determined yet careful, shrewd and caring all at the same time. What an enigma… Then, she took a chance and looked him in the eye, drowned in his double-crossing beauty.
“Why?”
“Because if we decided it was good for us to get together,” he said, joining his palms, “you’d be the only woman in my vision…the only woman getting the best from me. The only one I’d see in that way. I’d be blind to the bullshit, but crystal clear for a woman named Paris. I don’t want to visit your heart, I want to move the hell in. Now, you go ahead and marinate on that for a minute.”
Without saying another damn word, he turned his back, popped his collar and crossed the street, leaving her there, breathless, angry, concerned, and her panties soaked. His sales pitch went over without a hitch, for her pussy craved that motherfucker like a biscuit desires jam.
What a strange man…and I like the shit out of him!
*
Chapter Four
SMOKE PITCHED HIS iPhone to and fro between his hands. He wasn’t much a phone person and didn’t enjoy endless chatter, for no specific purpose. He was all about business. His calls consisted of money matters, checking in on his stable when he wasn’t on the premises, and other related matters. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d picked up the phone and called someone simply to shoot the shit…but now, he was seriously contemplating it, especially since he knew without a shadow of a doubt, she’d reached out first. He placed his cell in the palm of his hand, and ran his finger over the screen until he saw her number. Taking a deep breath, he sat back in his mustard yellow, leather chair and waited.
“Hello?”
“Hello Paris, how are you doing?”
The woman hesitated, a short silence followed by a light laugh.
“Smoke, how’d you get my number?”
“How’d you know it was me?” he retorted, derailing the situation before she even got started.
“I know your voice…”
“And yo
u like it, right?” He grinned as he stretched out a bit, and crossed his leg over his thigh.
“Is there something specific you wanted? Like a referral to another neighborhood? A cab ride to the other side of town?” she teased.
“That’s funny … No.” He reached forward and pulled at the material of his pants. “I just wanted to see how your day was going, let you know I’m aware you’re the one who called me from that blocked number, the missed call last night…”
“Oh.” She sounded genuinely surprised. “Well, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but my day is going quite well, actually. Thank you.”
“Okay, I’ll let it go, but we both know it was you. As for your day, beautiful…” he said lightly, his smile growing a bit larger. “Are you busy right now? Do you have time for a little talk?”
“…I knew you wanted something,” she simpered.
“I do, but not in the way you think. I just wanted to ask you a few things is all.”
“Like what?”
“Like, what do you enjoy the most, aside from work? What makes you happy? Makes you smile? Since you’re considering going out with me, I think we should get to know each other a bit better, don’t you agree?”
He could tell by her silence she was once again taken aback.
“Well, let’s see. I enjoy reading and—”
“Reading what?” He wanted to know everything…
“Well.” She huffed. “I really like romance novels actually. I also like biographies.”
Hmmmm, interesting…
“Let’s see, what else?” she continued. “I like to go jogging, especially in the morning. I also pride myself on having a green thumb. What about you?”
“I used to read more when I had more time. Not into romances, though.”
She gave a slight chuckle.
“I like reading biographies too, actually. Oh, and science fiction. I need to get back into it. I have no interest in gardening. However, I do enjoy working out. I have a room here at the apartment building that is set up like a large gym as well as one in my own residence. A man taking care of himself, in all aspects, is important. I also like to swim but most of all, I love being in the sky.”
“In the sky? Like flying?”
“Yeah.” He uncrossed his legs and ran his palm over his slightly twitching crotch as her voice sang to him on the other line. “I can fly a plane. I’ve taken a lot of classes, clocked a lot of hours. It’s my thing.” He shrugged. “I have an extensive model plane collection; some of them are quite rare. Perhaps sometime I could show it to you…”
“Yeah, perhaps you can.” He didn’t miss the sarcasm in her voice as she mocked his choice of words. “You know what I find strange about you, Smoke?”
“What?”
“You speak in three different styles. You speak one way to your girls no doubt, another way when you are in your pimp mode, trying to entice someone, and another way when you are talking to me, like this. You are very Midwestern right now, almost Southern, but with refinement. It is unsettling how you can morph and change like that on a dime…like a chameleon. Some would deem that an untrustworthy characteristic.”
Clearly, the woman had had both the time and inclination to dissect their previous conversation. She took it apart like a surgeon, and had somehow convinced herself he was bullshitting her. Some would say he was back at square one, but he knew better. He was making monumental progress; this was simply her final defense before she opened the floodgates and let his ass inside.
“Well, Paris, that’s one difference between a pimp and a madam. I am a man and will always be one, so I act accordingly. I don’t have to be, how can I say it?”—he trailed a finger over his bottom lip as he sorted his mind like a laundry bin, trying to conjure the right word—“As sensitive as you, you know? I mean, shit, I don’t speak to all women the same, but I speak to everyone with my objective in mind.”
“So you’re playing a role?”
“We all play roles, baby.”
“Exactly…”
They both paused for a moment, then he continued. “But right now, I am just being myself. I’m not in character, okay?” Thoughts of his mother suddenly interrupted his flow, the way the woman would toss on an all-star performance, equipped with tears and the whole nine to get a heart to bleed in her honor, but he dashed away from that, wishing to stay on track.
He raised his hand as if she Paris were standing there. “So, you are seeing a side of me that only very close friends see. My whores know nothing about who you are seeing right now because it would not benefit them, on any level. It’s all about benefits, objectives.”
“And what’s your objective right at this moment, for this phone call?”
“The same one you had when you called me and blocked your number first.”
They swam inside the sea of a long pause.
“Okay, I did call you,” she finally admitted.
“I know you did, and as clear as I made my objective to you previously, I don’t mind doing it once more, but I know you remember it to the letter. Now repeat it back to me…” He smirked.
“You are something else, Smoke.” She laughed lightly.
“Come on, let me hear it.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“You know what I want you to say. Don’t play games… Now say it.”
“To get to know me…”
“Was that so hard?”
“Yes.”
Sensing the smile in her voice, he chuckled. “Your resistance to me has waned I see, though you still try to play the game a bit.” He gripped the shiny paw of the chair’s arm, traced it leisurely with his fingers. “I think you are starting to like me, starting to wonder. I think, Paris, that you wouldn’t mind a new friend in your life. You’ve made me work hard, baby… I paid the price, now I’m ready for my prize.”
“Prize, huh? And you think I want a new friend?” she flirted.
“Yeah…I think you want a new friend, baby.”
“Hmmm, I had no idea you were so perceptive,” she said sardonically, before she burst out laughing.
“We both are…” He briefly glanced down at his shoe before crossing his ankles. “And we both want to know what could happen here. Paris, somewhere in the world, this has already happened before. Somewhere in Thailand, London, India, and our very own country of America even. A man that sold pussy took interest in a woman that sold pussy. I’m not talking about the pimp and prostitute relationships—we know that happens far more than people admit; your parents were proof of that. No, I am talking about two businesspeople who don’t sell their own asses, at least not anymore, getting together for more than just a cup of coffee. Can you get with that?”
She paused for a moment. “I can,” she said in a low tone.
“I thought you could. Now, I won’t hold you any longer Pussycat, but before we go, I wanted to ask you something else. You may as well tell me, not force me to look it up.”
“Smoke, you are rattling my damn nerves.”
He burst out laughing. That was something his mother used to tell him as a child, but it sounded great coming out of Paris’ mouth, like slow moving liquor over ice.
“What is it?” she questioned.
“When is your birthday?”
“September 7th.”
“Alright, I’ll make a note of that.”
“What for? Will you surprise me and make my day by vanishing like…well, smoke?”
They both burst out laughing.
“You know you don’t want me to leave you alone, baby, so you can pause with that…”
“…You’re right. I don’t want you to stop, I…like it… I like you.”
“Beautiful. I like you, too…a whole fucking lot. Keep enjoying your day, gorgeous. I’ll be in touch.” And he disconnected the phone call…
*
Chapter Five
SMOKE WATCHED TWO of his whores squabble inside a bedroom with red walls about some missing cost
ume jewelry. They were sister-in-laws, the best of friends, but this shit was bound to happen from time to time. Tempers would flare, but they never seemed to realize it wasn’t really about the damn articles of clothing, jewelry, or anything like that. It always boiled down to something deeper, and it would be revealed sooner or later in some fucking catfight he’d have to break up. In better news, the apartment building was shaping up nicely, but everyone was beat and he’d just added a new recruit to his stable. His bottom bitch, Felicia, his personal stallion, had to get the whores in check that morning. Word got back to him that one of his girls was dabbling in heroine, and that sent him into a bloody rage. His policies were strict, and he knew and understood the original source for his outrage. That is, the one topic that remained completely off fucking limits. He dived head first into his past, the thoughts gripped him by his damn throat and cut off his air supply.
The issue elicited atrocious sentiments inside him, drudged up more damaging memories he tried to bury with a shovel in the backyard of his mind. Problem was, his entire psyche was becoming one big ass pine box. There was virtually no more room for the dead, decomposing bodies of promises squashed, broken and torn to pieces right before his very eyes. Where would he store the sky-high, piled stinking remains?
His heart had been hardened for so long, his own mother’s tears no longer moved him. Despite her ways, he always kept a level of respect for her, but his anger kept crawling up and out of the ground like a brain hungry zombie, ravenous, wanting to slash her to smithereens when she’d not tread lightly, and run in screaming as if she had the fucking right. On one hand, he loved her something fierce. There had been good times… On the other hand, it was too much to bear. He had pity on her, hated and loved her all at once. This twisted psychological mess haunted him during darker times in his life, when he allowed the memories to come, surround him, and have their twisted way with his soul.
He also realized he’d given his father one too many allowances all of those years ago, putting him up and above the rest, when he barely deserved to sit at the same table with the filth of the world. Because of this and more, Smoke hadn’t contemplated hanging up his robe. He’d had no designs prior to these recent, strange inklings of leaving the life, or settling down. He’d never even considered walking away from the game; by most accounts, he’d just gotten started. And as far as women and relationships?
