by Kiki Swinson
Rocking the crying baby, Honore walked over to the kitchen area and plopped down at the table. She took the plate of chicken and mashed potatoes she’d been eating earlier and dipped her index finger down into the soft potatoes and then stuck it in the baby’s mouth.
“Here,” she said as he opened his tiny lips and sucked down the pat of potatoes greedily. She wasn’t surprised when his lil pink tongue darted outta his mouth and his lips puckered and started searching for more.
Honore waited to see what would happen next, and moments later the baby’s face turned red again as he let out a loud, angry screech that let her know he had liked them damn potatoes and was ready to go in hard again.
Honore raised up and slid her cell phone outta her back pocket, then she adjusted the baby in her arms so she could feed him with one finger and still have access to social media. Over and over she dipped her finger into the mound of potatoes and fed the baby while responding to the chaser who was still complimenting her ass-poses on Instagram.
“Damn sexy, ya pics are lit as hell.”
“Thanks.”
“I saw the link in your bio. So what type of prices do you charge for your booking sessions, Ma?”
Honore grinned. This was her favorite part. The money part.
“Ten grand,” she lied.
“Damn you must be real good to be charging all that. So what type of stuff do you perform for ten grand?”
“It ain’t just me. It’s my girls. We have an all-night party going on tonight. Drinks, drugs, and the best pussy poppers in the city, ya dig?”
“Well my pockets run deep but I ain’t no sucka neither. Am I the only one who gotta pay ten grand?”
“Hell naw, this party is for big boys only,” Honore typed with her thumb, already planning on how she could use this simp to get jacked. “We got some white boys on deck tonight, and everybody gotta pay ten stacks. If you scroll down my timeline you’ll see the chicks I fuck with. We some get-money bitches. We clean, we fine, we got condoms, and we provide a stress free environment. Time is money nigga, w’sup? Are you in or you out? You wanna video chat so you can see I’m for real? I got other niggas that I could be entertaining, you know.”
Honore knew if this nigga was running a fake page then he would never video chat. That was a sure way to find out if a nigga was playing with your time.
“I’m definitely down,” he typed. “I can see from ya pictures you got some bad bitches on ya team. Me and my homey tryna see what them cheeks is hittin for. Ten grand ain’t nothing. We blow that in a regular strip joint ere’ other night. We’ll swing by and party wit’cha. So w’sup with the info?”
“I’m about to send you the address and the room number to the suite,” Honore typed back with a smile. She was already counting that extra bread in her head. This was going to be a nice lil come up. “Send me your name and phone number and call me when you’re downstairs.”
“My name is Rasul,” he responded back. “I’ma see you real soon sexy.”
Honore was hyped as shit. She had just bagged another customer for Cucci and the girls to snatch up. If the girls put that pussy on ’em right they would be returning with more bread and more friends. Shit was all the way lit. Honore thought about telling Cucci about the new arrivals but she decided not to. She wanted to wait and see if her cousin would hold out on that extra bread, or come legit from the gate. Hell, Honore shrugged as she rocked the bald-headed baby. Every fuckin’ body was running game these days and looking to score something for nothing. Including her!
CHAPTER 3
Rayven “Cucci Momma” Jones was in the cut with a bottle of EFFEN Vodka sipping it to the face. She was working a criminal side-hustle tonight and a whole lotta greenbacks was on the line. Cucci also had a legit job as a lowly clerk at the New York Diamond and Jewelry Exchange, but that shit paid peanuts compared to the stacks she could make pitching out on the streets. Besides, with her step-daddy locked up in jail and his regular hood connections drying up, Cucci was now carrying the whole load for both her mother, Frita, and her cousin, Honore.
It was late night and the private hotel party she was hosting was lit, and the high-roller white boys who were funding it were having a blast. While Honore was busy babysitting for her new Jewish boss, Cucci was smoking some black weed and holding shit down. Her primary role was to supervise their five female escorts and make sure shit ran smooth at their party tonight. The white boy who had hired them was named Aubrey, and he was paying top dollar for an all-night fuck-fest for him and his corny frat boys. There was plenty of blow, weed, and liquor damn near flowing outta the faucet, and right now the sloshed dudes were dancing with the girls, sniffing coke, and running around naked in the spacious hotel suite.
“Jeez, you’re sexy as fuck,” an ass-naked college dude said as he stumbled over to the couch where Cucci was staring down at her cell phone. He stood in front of her swaying in a wide-legged stance. “What you doing sitting over here all by yourself? You should come over here and sit that black ass on my big dick.”
“Back up off me, white boy,” Cucci snapped, gripping her vodka and smirking at his stiff piece of pink meat as she shot him a mean ice grill. “There’s plenty of pussy around here for you to play in. I’m not a part of the party so step off.”
“Oh, you got a smart mouth,” the guy said with a cocky sneer on his face. “But I’m sure there’s a price on your chocolate twat just like there is on the rest of these hoes. I tell you what. I’ll pay you two hundred dollars extra on top of what my friend is already giving your gorgeous ghetto ass. Now be a good little bitch and come put that black pussy on this dick.”
“Okay, I got you baby,” Cucci said calmly. She slid her cell phone deep down between the sofa cushions, then leaned forward and reached for his pale woody and gently took it in her fist. Suddenly in one motion she squeezed it real tight and yanked that shit and twisted it so hard she almost broke his dick bone. The white boy yelped and fell to his knees. Cucci dropped her bottle and jumped up. She pulled a razor from her bra as she stood over him ready to amputate his lil three-inch knob right down to the root.
“How about you sit on this blade mothafucka,” Cucci spit. “I told you to fall back, but your stupid ass still had to try it, huh? Don’t make me carve yo pink ass up in this bitch.”
The partying had stopped and all eyes were on the situation that was beginning to turn ugly. The escort girls were amped to make some moves straight for the door. These sweet Polly Purebreds talked a mean fight game, but they were cold-footed frauds on the low, and they were ready to take the money and run if any shit popped off.
“Hey Dustin, I see you’ve met our lovely host, Cucci,” Aubrey said calmly as he walked over and tried to smooth things over. “Let me see if I can figure this out. You probably said something enormously stupid to her and she put you in check. Is that about right?”
Dustin shook his head yes as he wiggled around on the ground gripping his dick as it changed all kinds of colors from pink to purple.
“Sorry about him, Cucci,” Aubrey said with a grin. “He’s an idiot, but he’s a good guy too. I don’t wanna ruin the mood or our business relationship. Can we move past this and keep the party twerking?”
“Of course. As long as he finds some chill it’s all cool, Aubrey,” Cucci said, smiling with dollar signs in her eyes. She wasn’t tryna fuck up the money neither so she raised her hand in the air and signaled for the girls to keep working. “Just make sure the rest of your boys stay in they damn lane too.”
Cucci had just turned her head to say something slick to the doofus-looking white boy who was still laying on the floor, when suddenly the hotel room door opened up wide. Three masked gunmen walked calmly inside and closed the door behind them.
“Hey! What the hell is going on?” Aubrey said as the blood drained from his face. He held up his trembling hands as one of the dudes advanced on him. “Ay, I don’t want any trouble guys, really.”
Instead of responding, th
e masked gunmen sent a quick unspoken message that told everybody in the room to shut the fuck up and pay attention.
POP!
Dustin, the naked guy on the floor, caught a hot slug to the face. The back of his head exploded and one of the strippers screamed real loud before she could catch herself.
“Shhh,” the shorter gunman of the group warned. “Scream again bitch and I promise you it’ll be the last sound you ever make. I ain’t here to fuck around,” he said coldly, “so I’m only gonna ask you muthafuckas one time. Where the fuck is the bread at? If I gotta ask again I’ma splash every last one of y’all pussies in here and then look for that ten grand myself.”
Without hesitation Aubrey walked nervously over to the closet to retrieve his black briefcase. Dustin was already dead and his other friends were being manhandled and shoved facedown to the floor and getting their pockets ran through by one hitta, while the other one pointed a high-caliber weapon at their domes.
Cucci stood there frozen and watched as the ski-masked hitta moved quickly and efficiently, ripping wallets, car keys, Rolexes, and expensive rings off the terrified white boys as fast as he could.
“Here,” Aubrey said, thrusting out the briefcase. “This is it. This is everything that I brought with me to pay for the girls tonight. It’s ten grand in cash. Please take it because I don’t wanna die. Look at us; we’re obeying your commands and we’re not fighting back. Please, we’re young and we’re drunk. Take the money.” He practically flung the damn briefcase at the dude. “Take every damn thing you want, just let me and the rest of my friends live.”
“That’s my fucking money, yo!” Cucci hollered. The words flew out of her mouth before she could even check herself. She glared at the stone-cold hittas with nothing but getting them dollas on her mind. “Y’all niggas know this shit ain’t right! I worked for that bank! Me and my girl tryna come up just like y’all are!”
“Bitch, what,” the short guy in the mask said as he stepped over Dustin’s dead body to get to Cucci. “You got a smart-ass fuckin’ mouth, don’t you bitch!”
SLAP!
Dude smashed Cucci with the .45-caliber gun that was gripped in his hand and she dropped like a rock, falling backward on the couch halfway unconscious. She was so dazed she could barely hear all the yelling and crying and screaming that was coming from her strippers and the white boys alike. The side of her face throbbed like an elephant had kicked it in, and the last thing she felt was somebody tugging at the waist of her skin-tight leggings, and then she went completely into dreamland.
* * *
When Cucci Momma’s eyes fluttered open she couldn’t tell how much time had elapsed. She was laying on the couch, flat on her back. The whole right side of her face was swollen and numb, and her thong and leggings were dangling from one of her ankles. Two used condoms were on the floor and the empty wrappers had been tossed down there too. She swallowed hard and tried to sit up. Her whole body ached like crazy and the last thing she remembered was getting smacked in the face with a gun.
She stuck her tongue out to lick her swollen lip, then winced in pain and looked around. The Beats by Dre radio was still playing loudly over the speakers, but the only people in the room were her and the dead white boy that Aubrey had called Dustin. Everybody else had broke the fuck out and left them behind.
Cucci stared at the blood and red goo spread on the floor by Dustin’s blown melon and it all came rushing back to her.
Their lil shit had gotten stuck the fuck up! Licked!
A sudden wave of pain flooded her body and she looked down and saw a bunch of large red welts covering her arms and legs. Her right knee was swollen so bad it looked like an orange was sitting up under her skin. One of her shoes was missing from her feet, and her rings, necklace, and diamond earrings were all gone. Cucci sucked in a deep breath then winced as she tried to bend her knee. That shit was tender and stiff, and as the reality of her situation came raining down on her she realized her knee was the last damn thing she needed to be worrying about because her real problem wasn’t pretty at all.
They had gotten run down on. Somebody had scoped out their lil hustle and moved in for the kill. Not only had the masked hittas stolen her stash of money, they had kicked her ass while she was knocked out, and judging from the wetness and the throbbing pain she was now feeling between her legs, she had gotten fucked raw real good too.
Cucci’s heart banged and her gut clenched. Her body had been brutally violated but there was also ten thousand fuckin’ dollars gone! Just like that!
No! she screamed out in her mind. Her fuckin’ cousin Honore was gonna kill her! She was supposed to have set this shit up nice and tight so they could pocket some dough, but instead there was a dead white boy on the floor and they were ten grand short!
The sight of Dustin’s dead body had Cucci happy as hell to be alive, but she was still furious as fuck. There was mad throbbing going on between her legs and that meant that more than one of them gun-boys had stuck his dick in her! She was on the pill, but she didn’t know what kinda diseases them nasty scrubs was carrying around!
Cucci reached down in the sofa cushion and retrieved her cell phone. She was dizzy as fuck when she stood up, and everything in her stomach felt like it was gonna explode outta her throat. Holding onto a chair, Cucci bent down and stuck her foot back in her thong and leggings and yanked them up on her damp ass. Despite the intense pain that was roaring through her body from head to toe, all she could think about was getting her ass outta that hotel room before the pigs showed up. Even beaten up and fucked, Cucci didn’t trust a blue boy under no goddamn circumstances. With that white college boy stretched out on the floor dead, she was sure to be taken down to the station for questioning. Instead of seeing her as a victim them savage cops woulda probably slapped the metal bracelets on her and charged her with a crime.
Barely able to see outta her punched eye, Cucci staggered into the small bedroom wearing one high heel and went searching for her purse at the top of the closet. Of course that shit was gone, just like the bag of money that she was supposed to collect.
Cucci felt like fuckin’ crying as she crossed back into the living room and stepped over the white boy’s naked body. She busted outta the door hoping like hell that none of those hittas were laying in the cut waiting to jump on her again.
“Bitch come and get me!” Cucci shrieked into her cell phone as she busted through the stairwell door and hobbled down the steps as fast as she could. Wincing in pain, fear and panic were bubbling all up in her throat and all she could do was pray to God that none of them hittas were still lurking around the hotel waiting to skim her weave and wet up her scalp the way they had wet up her drawers.
“What’s wrong? Where you at?”
“I’m on the staircase at the Hussy Hole Hotel!”
“What you mean come and get you?” Honore said, sounding real confused on the other end of the line. “Girl you know I’m at work watching this damn baby all night! I can’t just walk out and leave him!”
“Girl, we got set up! Stuck the fuck up too! Some ski-masked niggas had a key to the room and they slid in whipping out burners everywhere! They blasted one of the white boys and took all the cash, and I think some of them niggas fucked me too!”
“What?” Honore shrieked into the phone as she keyed in on the most important detail. “They took our cash?” She hollered that shit so loud that immediately the baby stirred and started crying again.
“Yeah! And they shot a white boy and dug my shit out too!”
“Shit!” Honore muttered as she flipped the baby onto his stomach and started patting on his back real rapidly. “Hold up.” She peered suspiciously at the phone. “Cucci Momma, you been smoking that black weed again? You know that shit be having you fucked up, girl. It was supposed to be an orgy, dammit. What the hell you talking about you got fucked, some dude got blasted, and all the money is gone? I know damn well you ain’t telling me no extra-ass shit like that!”
C
ucci was breathing so hard it felt like she was gonna pass out. A wave of dizziness and nausea washed over her, and cradling the phone between her cheek and her shoulder, she sank down on the steps and put her head between her knees.
“Bitch come and get me!” she barked at Honore again as soon as she caught her breath. “I don’t know how them niggas knew we was in there partying, or how they knew ten grand was gonna be stashed in the room, but they knew! Them niggas took my purse and I lost one of my shoes! I’m sitting on the fourth floor staircase and for all I know they might be in the lobby waiting to kill me!”
Honore’s hand was steady patting. “But who’s gonna watch the baby?”
“Wake his goddamn mama up!” Cucci snapped. “And tell her to come watch him her damn self! I don’t care what you gotta do,just come and get me and hurry the hell up!”
* * *
Honore hung up the phone and immediately called the number to that Rasul nigga that she had sent to the room. She was fearful that not only was she not gonna make any extra bread tonight, but that she had fucked around and set her own squad up to get booked.
“Yo who dis?”
“Pussy nigga, you know who the fuck it is!” Honore barked. “Did you really just do that shit to my party?”
“Ha-ha, w’sup sexy,” Rasul said with a sick laugh. “I didn’t see you up in the spot, sugar. It was jumping though. Me and my homies had a great night. Y’all stupid bitches really know how to show a nigga a good time. I hope you invite me back again.”
“Oh, yo bitch ass got jokes right?” Honore spit with utter disgust and venom. “Ya name is Rasul, right? I promise you I’ma find out who you are and get yo ass turned into maggot food. I can promise you that nigga! You did some real hoe-nigga shit tonight and you gonna pay with your fucking life!”
