Lifestyles of the Rich and Shameless

by Noire

  The young girl was steady beefing as Zsa Zsa moved on to the next illegally parked car. She straight hated her job. She wasn’t built for this shit. The nature of her grind was all about freezing in the winter, getting soaked when it rained, and burning the hell up in the summer.

  For two long years Zsa Zsa had been pounding the concrete and choking on smog in midtown Manhattan. And like most NYC meter maids, she had been through it all. She’d been cussed out by all kinds of crazy sickos, had the shit smacked outta her by a rusty old white man, and had got bitten on the ankle by a poodle for writing his owner a double-parking ticket three days in a row.

  Zsa Zsa had never wanted to punch no clock or be nobody’s employee. Matter fact, due to her creative skills, and the prize package she was holding, she didn’t feel she should have to work a regular job at all. With her half-Asian, half-black, hot beauty blend, and a sistah’s curvy body that had been turning heads since she was twelve, she felt she should have been draped over some boss’s arm and living her dream life. Instead, she was busy walking up and down the street in a monkey suit looking stupid and feeling unglamorous.

  Zsa Zsa knew she was special, and not just because she was fine, neither. There were plenty of beautiful sistahs out there, but not many of them had the eye for fashion or the nose for business that Zsa Zsa had.

  For as far back as she could remember there had always been a sizzling spark in her that was trying to burst into a flame. Zsa Zsa was into fashion and she wanted to do big things. If given the opportunity, she knew she could launch the next major black clothing line and straight shock the fashion world. Her designs were so cold her line could break out like Nelly’s Apple Bottoms, or Beyoncé’s House of Deréon, or even Kimora Simmons’s urban fiyah line Baby Phat. Zsa Zsa would do anything for the chance to live her dream life. All she wanted to do with her life was create amazing fashions that could be sported by everyday women, or styled by chicks who were rich and famous!

  But even getting close to her dream was damn near impossible. For one thing, she was broke. And for another, she had a court order that dictated that she get a job and keep it for at least three years. When Zsa Zsa thought about how her life had gotten so turned around she wanted to kick herself up her own dumb ass.

  Consumed by greed and open on her own good looks, Zsa Zsa had bellied up to a local drug boss who had a serious gambling jones. Not only did he distribute drugs, they had stayed at the racetrack cheering on his horses. And for a long time his hand was hot and he raked in big bank. But the minute that fool’s horse started losing he had turned on Zsa Zsa. He got it in his head that she was some kinda bad luck charm, and one night he locked her in his crib and tried to beat all the mo outta her.

  Zsa Zsa was done. Dude was clearly mental, and she wasn’t the type to take an ass-whipping and come back for more, but old boy wasn’t tryna let her go. She moved out of her cousin’s house and went to live with her aunt, but he still followed her. He’d be hiding all up in the bushes and shit, or tapping on the windows at night, scaring the hell outta her auntie.

  Zsa Zsa knew some loco shit was gonna go down if that niggah didn’t leave her alone, but she had never imagined how bad it would be. One night when she came home he was waiting on her aunt’s stoop talking about they needed to talk. He said if she took a little ride with him and let him explain himself, then they could both move on and he would leave her alone. Something had told her not to get in his whip, but he was chill tonight and looking sane in the face ... damn, was it a mistake!

  As soon as she got in he locked the doors and took off driving faster than shit. He was laughing, Zsa Zsa was screaming, and people on the streets were scattering outta his way. That fool didn’t care who he mighta hit. Kids, women, old ladies ... It was like he had a death wish, and he wanted to take Zsa Zsa with him.

  It wasn’t long before flashing lights were behind them and sirens were wailing in the air. Zsa Zsa thought about jumping out the car, but they were going too fast, and plus he had the doors locked. She knew he was crazy when he snatched her handbag off her lap. He steered the car with his knees and she saw him take something off the seat and stuff it inside her bag. Zsa Zsa figured it out when he rolled down his window and tossed her handbag clean out, but by then it was too late. That fool pulled the car over like everything was cool, and their high-speed chase was over.

  But Zsa Zsa’s problems were just beginning. The cops had muscled both of them outta the car and smashed them into the concrete at gunpoint. They were taken straight to the precinct, and since his drugs had been found in Zsa Zsa’s bag, she’d gotten knocked and carted off to Rikers Island just like any other petty criminal.

  But the judge had had a little mercy on Zsa Zsa after her drug test came back clean. He had believed her when she said she was not involved in the drug game, had never personally used drugs, and was definitely not down with selling them.

  And it was all true too.

  Zsa Zsa had been grateful when the judge offered to drop the charges and seal her record on the condition that she find employment within ninety days. She had taken the competitive exams for a couple of city jobs about a year or so earlier, and as soon as she was released from Rikers her auntie had hooked her up with an interview at One Police Plaza in the offices of the Traffic Enforcement Agency.

  She had been relieved to get the job before her ninety days were up and she had to go back and face the judge, but even as she was going through the whole hiring process, Zsa Zsa had known the gig was only gonna be temporary.

  For one thing, traffic enforcement agents might work for the police department, but they were not cops. And out of all the TEA employees, meter maids were the doo-doo on the bottom of the shoe, the most hated people in uniforms. Besides, did she really wanna be out there walking the damn streets writing tickets all day? Hell no. She wasn’t tryna wear out the bottoms of her goddamn feet! She was tryna start her own empire, not ruin her life with a thirty-year career.

  So day in and day out, Zsa Zsa had been scheming on a way to accomplish her goals. If she was ever gonna have a chance to quit her job and do her own thing, she’d have to catch herself a good man. One who could sit her down and bring her inside out of the cold. A man who had the means and the moolah to set her up lovely, and help a flamboyant mami get her bizz up off the ground so she could rub shoulders with the stars.

  Zsa Zsa sighed and glanced at the diamond-specked watch that the guy she was seeing had bought her. Instead of buying her all kinds of pretty stuff, what she really wished he would do was get down on his knees and ask her to be his wife!

  She smirked. Dude was a winner and he had her heart and all that. And he was definitely a card-carrying member of the big dick club. But he had some shit about himself too. Papi knew he had options and choices, and he’d made it clear that he was seeing other chicks. He said he was gonna let them all know who he’d chosen on his thirtieth birthday. Well, Zsa Zsa wasn’t really the man-sharing type, but she had some birthday plans for him. Whoever he was banging, they couldn’t have been wiping it on him the way she was. Convincing Noble that she was the right woman for him was just gonna take some time and some skills, and Zsa Zsa was steady working on her plan.

  She sighed again and wiggled her aching toes around in her ugly work shoes. She was dying to dip into the Chinese restaurant across the street and get off her feet for a little while, but she had an appointment to catch that she’d been dreading all week.

  There was a whole fleet of meter maids walking the streets of New York City, and a few of her ditzy blond-haired coworkers were some sho’nuff sistah haters. Them white girls been dropping big dimes on Zsa Zsa for ducking into pizza parlors during work hours, or for getting her shop on when she was supposed to be out there burning the skin off the bottom of her feet and writing parking tickets.

  For the third time in six months, a supervisor had run up on her chilling with her feet up in a sandwich shop, and Zsa Zsa had sworn up and down that she only went inside a resta
urant or store if she had to use the bathroom. The supervisor was a young Puerto Rican guy, and he had been more interested in Zsa Zsa’s tits than the words that were coming outta her mouth, and she’d been able to wiggle her way outta that infraction.

  But just recently one of them jealous coworker bitches had managed to mess her up again. Juicy Couture was having a crazy sale, and Zsa Zsa had dropped a fat scoop of cream on fashion wear that fit her toned body to a tee. She was rushing outta the store carrying sick shopping bags when she ran right up on two white female supervisors.

  She was busted! One of them white hoes had set her up! Since it was her third malingering infraction, Zsa Zsa had been ordered to report across town to see the boss man. Of course she was nervous and pressed about it, but she was hoping to just get written up and maybe docked a little bit of pay, and perhaps it wouldn’t go no further than that.

  She glanced at her watch again, then looked around at the cars parked at the meters and wondered if she was being watched. Yeah, envious eyes were probably crawling all over her, just waiting for her to mess up so they could stab her in the back and try to get her fired. She hated white chicks!

  On the real, she did have time to write at least four or five more tickets before she needed to catch the crosstown bus to see the chief, but bump that. Zsa Zsa had a check that was about to burn a hole in the bottom of her designer purse, and she needed to get to the bank.

  Clipping her ticket pad to her waist, Zsa Zsa eyed a black Nissan that was double parked at the corner. The driver couldn’t have been worried about being seen chillin’ in a no-parking zone because ridiculously loud music was blaring from his windows. She moved a little bit closer.

  A ruff-looking dude with a red doo-rag on his head sat behind the wheel with a cigarette dangling from his lips. Zsa Zsa glanced around to see if any other meter maids or maybe even a street cop was anywhere nearby. When she saw none, she smirked, then rolled her eyes, then turned around and started walking in the opposite direction. All that “enforce the law at all costs” shit was a bunch of bull. She wasn’t about to roll up on no hood niggah in midtown and get the shit slapped outta her.

  Instead, she eyed a dirty white Taurus whose meter was real close to expiring. She had ticketed this car many times before, and couldn’t believe the owner was too dumb to come outside and feed the damn meter. Well, whoever owns this nasty-ass whooptie, they about to get another damn ticket! The meter still had close to ten minutes on it, but Zsa Zsa wasn’t about to wait around for somebody who was in the habit of letting their flag go up. The driver of this car was a serial illegal parker, and whoever it was, they didn’t deserve no sympathy. She whipped out her pad and got to writing.

  The bank was only a few blocks away from where her boo worked directing traffic, and after sticking the ticket on the gritty windshield, Zsa Zsa fell in with the crowd of frenzied walkers as she broke out to cash her check.

  Like everybody else on the streets of New York, Zsa Zsa kept to herself. She walked like she was about the bizz, her hips rolling hard with her stride. And even though she was dressed in a monkey suit/play-cop uniform, her flowing hair and bomb body still attracted mad attention.

  She walked up to Fifty-ninth Street and peeped her man standing in his grid square with his arms waving and his white gloves gesturing. Even from the back he was fine. Tall, built, nice muscled-up ass ... you couldn’t even tell he was missing a leg.

  Her boo had been shot in the line of duty and had most of his right leg amputated. And although it had been kinda awkward in the bedroom at first, Zsa Zsa had forgotten all about that stump the moment she felt his snake sliding all up in her.

  In fact, she had been so impressed with his sex game and so proud of him for having the balls to get his leg shot off and still get back up on his feet, that after she rode his dick until it faded into the sunset, Zsa Zsa had stood up on the bed and proclaimed Noble Browne her wounded warrior, and then she reached down and gave him a butt-naked high five!

  With a slight smile on her lips, she pushed through the doors of Omega Bank and scanned the crowd. “Damn,” she cursed under her breath as her smile flipped over to a frown. The line was long as hell. It snaked around the lanes twice, and the waiting customers stood talking on cell phones, text-ing, or just gazing around impatiently.

  Zsa Zsa got behind the last person on line and prepared to wait her turn. She had been coming to this bank for a while and there was always a crowd. Every few minutes she shuffled forward a few steps as the tellers finished with one customer and called for the next person in line. It took a good ten minutes before she was close to the front. And when she finally did get up there she glanced at the next available teller and rolled her eyes.

  How come I had to get this stuck-up bitch? Zsa Zsa thought as she reluctantly walked over to the station of the one teller in the whole bank that she couldn’t stand.

  The name tag outside the teller’s window read Malisha Chambers, and the chick sitting behind the thick bulletproof glass had a distracted look on her face.

  Zsa Zsa took the check from her purse and pushed it through the slot.

  “I need to cash this, please.”

  She hated coming to this girl’s window. For one thing the chick worked slow. It seemed like she counted out every dollar at least fifteen damn times. And she was a pain in the ass too. Zsa Zsa had been cashing checks there for two whole years, but every time she stepped up to this teller’s window the chick acted like she had never seen her before.

  One time Zsa Zsa had forgotten her ID card at home, and even though the girl had just cashed a check for her a few days earlier, she had nutted up and played dumb. Zsa Zsa had fumed while the chick took a year to go to the file and look up her signature, and still after all that, she had held the check all up in the air and studied it like it might be fake.

  “It’s a damned government check!” Zsa Zsa had damn near shouted, but the girl had paid her no mind. She made Zsa Zsa sign the check in front of her, twice, and then told her she needed to go to the customer service desk and get an approval.

  Zsa Zsa wasn’t up for no shit outta Ms. Malisha today, and she was pretty shocked when the girl didn’t give her none.

  “You have to sign it,” the teller said, looking away as she pushed the check back through the slot.

  Zsa Zsa nodded and picked up the pen that was dangling from a wire bolted to the counter. “I know. I was waiting to sign it in front of you.”

  Bougie bitch! She signed her name and pushed the check back through the slot.

  “Wait a minute!” Zsa Zsa said quickly. She dug in her shirt breast pocket. “Here’s my ID.”

  The girl looked up briefly.

  “I know who you are,” she said softly, then put her head back down as she worked on the check.

  Zsa Zsa was shocked. Not just because the chick was acting all mild mannered and was about to cash her check without seeing her ID, but the girl just didn’t look right. She looked wiped out. Her hair was usually butter, and her makeup was always on point. Zsa Zsa had figured her for one of them uptown bitches who thought she was cute. Or maybe she was a flosser from somewhere up in Harlem.

  Wherever the heffah came from, she was real cute, Zsa Zsa had to admit, and her style was usually classy and airtight. But today she looked whipped in the face. Tired. Shot out. Like life had jumped on her back and was dragging her through a Canal Street gutter.

  Zsa Zsa didn’t have a drop of sympathy for her ass though. Why should she? This chick worked indoors and sat on her ass all day! Her damn feet were probably feeling just fine! Without giving the teller another glance, Zsa Zsa scooped her money up and stuck it in her purse, then jetted out the bank so she could get across town for her mandatory misconduct meeting.

  She was speed walking as she headed toward the bus stop. As much as she hated her job, she couldn’t afford to get fired, and after everything they had on her, being late to see the boss just wouldn’t look good for her.

  “Hi, Noble,�
�� she called as she crossed the intersection of Madison Avenue and stood at the bus stop. He waved, and a grin spread across Zsa Zsa’s face when she noted the look of stunned appreciation in his eyes.

  Standing near the bus stop, Zsa Zsa leaned against a light pole and posed for her man. She knew she was a banga. Her entire package stood out from the crowd. With her jet black, slightly curled hair that always looked windswept, to her flawless light brown skin and slanted eyes, she didn’t need nobody to tell her she was beautiful. Her round ass and tiny waist were just an added bonus, and the bouncy breasts that stood out prominently on her chest were like a cherry at the top of a creamy, delicious milkshake.

  “Hey, baby,” Noble said, removing the whistle from his mouth so he could flash her his gorgeous white smile. “I thought you were working down below Fifty-fifth Street today. What you doing up on this end?”

  “I’m about to catch the bus across town. I need to take care of some business,” she said vaguely, acting all nonchalant. Zsa Zsa knew how to keep a niggah guessing. Keep him on his toes. Most men just wanted to fuck her. She had accepted that as a fact by the time she was twelve. But for the few who actually wanted to get in her head, and for the one or two she truly gave a damn about, she had learned to keep the mystique going. The less she revealed about herself, the more they wanted to know.

  Zsa Zsa had first met Noble right at this very intersection, and within seconds he’d coaxed her cell phone number right outta her mouth. She’d been surprised when he called her just a few hours later, and she’d listened carefully as he told her a little bit about his life.

  Of course, she’d been impressed. A fine-ass dude like him, with no kids or baby’s mamas, and who had a job and a crib and a car? For a moment Zsa Zsa had felt stupid to even be thinking about hooking up with a guy who probably only made about forty grand a year. Her crazy-ass drug kingpin had spent more than that on her during a weekend in the Cayman Islands. Shit, he’d tossed away more than that at a single horse race.