The Scourge

by R. Tilden Smith

  Darryl turned and faced her. “Look Mo, I know what you think of her but Jill is good people. If anybody’s bringing drama into my house, it’s you. I think you need to check yourself. “

  Darryl’s rebuke stung Moji like a slap across the face. “Wha-, what the hell Darryl? I’m the one bringing drama? What would make you say that?”

  “Come on Moji, don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You been doing this shit all day. Hatin’ on how I spend my money, where I spend my time, who my friends are. Ever since I signed my deal, you’ve been acting more like my momma than my girl. A brother can only take so much of that shit Mo. Give it a break and let me enjoy my life.”

  Moji was stunned speechless. How come he can’t see I only want the best for him? she thought.

  Darryl glared at her for only a second or two before breaking eye contact and continuing his trek toward the main house.

  A child’s voice bubbled up from her subconscious, Looks like you’ve done what you do best, make people hate you.

  He doesn’t hate me, she thought, he’s just confused. I don’t know what stunt Jill is trying to pull by sending her little hoe army to Darryl’s party, but I plan to find out.

  Jill Harrow, a former Houston Vipers cheerleader and Texas state beauty pageant queen, was the Vice President of Sales and Promotion for the Houston Vipers as well as the director of the team’s cheerleading squad. The story of Jill’s rise to prominence in the Vipers organization was well known in the marketing industry, as Jill herself never tired of telling it. When Jill hired Moji’s employer, Leland Productions, as its promotions consultant last year, she asked that Moji, Leland’s VP of Marketing and its only woman and minority executive, be cast as the person to represent Leland in its dealings with the Vipers. Initially Moji was ecstatic. The Vipers were a major client, the biggest Leland has ever had, and doing well with them could propel her career. But Moji soon discovered that Jill didn’t choose Moji for any altruistic tendencies she harbored, but for reasons much more sinister.

  Bitch was just trying to pimp me, she thought. Memories of that eventful meeting flashed through her mind like a cheap picture show. I should of quit right then and there. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. She quickly wiped the tears that had pooled on her lower eyelids and hurried after Darryl, trying not to lose sight of him in the ever thickening crowd.

  5

  “Moji honey,” Jill offered one day as they were going over a draft day promotional campaign, “you could make a right good Houston Hook if I do say so myself.”

  Moji, confused by the use of the unfamiliar term but not wanting to seem ignorant or unprofessional in the presence of Leland’s biggest client, countered with a casual and non-threatening “Excuse me?”

  Jill, as beautiful and statuesque as modern cosmetic surgery could make a forty-seven year old woman look, smiled effortlessly and patted Moji lovingly on the back of the hand.

  “Oh honey, I don’t mean no harm! I’m just saying that a beautiful rubenesque girl like you could prove to be a great asset to the Houston Vipers in more ways than one.”

  Moji had heard the rumors about Jill. That she had proved adept at using her surgically enhanced assets to gain favor with the Houston Vipers’ owner, Haywood McGowen. And those unique skills had gotten her to where she was today.

  “I’m sorry Ms. Harrow, I’m confused. What are you implying?”

  “Oh honey, please call me Jill. Everybody else does. And cool your jets. I’m not suggesting you engage in anything unladylike.”

  She got up from the small table where they were working and glided over to an antique liquor cabinet in the far corner of her expansive office. Moji couldn’t help but notice that the expensive Versace ensemble she wore hung perfectly on her surgically sculpted body, almost as if it were sewn on.

  “You want a drink honey?” she asked. “I’m gonna pour me a little something. I’m parched.”

  “No, thank you,” Moji said.

  “Well, suit yourself.”

  She watched with stifled awe as Jill deftly mixed the contents of several bottles into a cocktail glass, finishing with ice, stirrer, and cherry, all without relaxing her smile or taking her eyes off of Moji. Jill swirled the concoction slightly and then took a sip and swallowed hard, her face reacting with an expression of momentary pain mixed with satisfaction.

  “Oh, that’s good,” she said to no one in particular and rejoined Moji at the table. “Have you heard about how I got started with the Vipers and how I came to have this job?”

  “Uh no,” Moji said, “I don’t believe I have.” Moji wasn’t comfortable lying, especially to clients, but she wanted to hear the story first hand. She eased into her best “I’m interested in what you’re saying” face and prepared herself to listen to a story she’s heard many times before—albeit from second and third hand sources. Seeing how stories seem to grow more elaborate and outrageous with each telling, Moji wondered if the first-hand account would be as interesting as the other versions.

  “Well shoot then,” Jill said, taking another generous sip from her drink, “let me fill you in on how Jill Harrow, former beauty pageant queen, cocktail waitress, and exotic dancer, became a Houston Vipers legend. When my momma stopped funding my beauty pageant career, I started waitressing part time during the day and dancing at the Hoedown at night, you know, to pay the bills.”

  “The Hoedown?” Moji asked. “What’s that?”

  “What? I’m surprised you never heard of it. Honey child, the Hoedown was one of biggest gentlemen’s clubs in Houston when I danced there. All the big shots used to come out to watch us girls strut our stuff. And I, one Miss Jill Scarlett Harrow, was the main attraction.”

  “Should I ask why?”

  Jill laughed. “Yes you should sweetie! You see, I was the best Hoe-girl they’ve ever seen because I had the complete package—I was tall, tan, toned, and had a set of hooters so firm and perky that I didn’t own a bra until I was thirty years old.”

  “Really?” Moji said, her folded arms squeezing her own heavy breasts a little tighter, “I don’t believe that.”

  “Honey, I’m not lying! I had all the customers eating out of my hands. I had so much money thrown at me during my sets that the other girls used to call me “Hoover Harrow” because, you know, I needed a vacuum to suck up all the money on the stage.”

  “So you were a famous Hoe-girl.”

  “Honey, I was more than famous, I was infamous,” Jill said, laughing. “Unfortunately, the other girls grew more than a little jealous of my success and threatened me with irreparable harm unless I shared my good fortune with them.”

  “So that’s what you did?”

  “At first yes, but then I got to thinking, why can’t all the Hoe-girls be Hoover-girls? After all, there was plenty of money to go around. The Hoedown had more than its share of well-to-do clientele. My momma always said that the road to a man’s heart goes right through that little brain he keeps between his legs and from there you can jump right on that ‘ole expressway that leads straight to his wallet. All the girls needed from me were a few pointers to help find the onramp.”

  The imagery the metaphor conjured in Moji’s mind made her a little uneasy. “I would imagine that all the women employed by the Hoedown were already attractive and pranced around mostly naked. Isn’t that what men go to strip clubs to see? Why would one good looking naked girl be any different from another?”

  “See Moji honey, this is exactly why we are having this conversation! You misunderstand how menfolk think. You are absolutely correct about the Hoedown girls. We were all beautiful. But I had something they didn’t. None of those girls had my years of beauty pageant training. They thought all they had to do was take off their clothes and, like you said, prance around on stage. But beauty pageants taught me that men are a bit more complex than that, especially those of power and means. You ain’t gonna get their attention just by jiggling some worn out T and A in their face. No honey, you’ve got
to work it a little harder than that or you ain’t never gonna have a chance to grab the brass ring, if you know what I mean.”

  The seriousness in which Jill drove home that last point startled Moji. Jill is not telling this story just to toot her own horn. Moji hadn’t figured it all out yet but she did suddenly realize that Jill was doing it for a reason. “So what were you doing that the other girls weren’t?”

  “It wasn’t just what I was doing Moji. It was how I was doing it and what I looked like while I was doing it that got me all the attention.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, these girls, while beautiful and all, had more than a few shortcomings when it came to the art of grabbing men’s hearts. I taught them how to put on their makeup just so, how to do their hair, and how to walk like a lady while wearing six inch heels. I showed them exercises that would keep them toned and accentuate all the right muscles, how to eat right to keep the weight off, and how to scrub and buff their skin and nails to perfection. We even met on our days off and made up little dance routines that fit each girl’s personality. Then we would go shopping to find just the right outfit to complement the routine. It was quite the production! Honey, I even got them girls to pool their money so they could buy each other the greatest gift a Hoe-girl could ever have—a brand spanking new set of hooters.”

  “You bought each other breast implants?”

  “Sure did. Well, I already had mine. My momma got me a pair for my eighteenth birthday. They were spectacular! Everybody loved them! Like I said, I didn’t have to switch those ladies out until I was thirty.”

  “When you started wearing bras?”

  “Yes, unfortunately. Cheerleading and father time had their way with my original pair. All the perkiness was gone. Lucky for me Haywood offered to let me trade them in for a bigger set.”

  “You mean Haywood McGowen, the owner of the Vipers, paid for you to have a breast enhancement?”

  “Oh yes dear,” Jill said, taking a deep breath while simultaneously tugging on the hem of her blouse, her ample breasts straining against the delicate fabric. “There was a time when Haywood absolutely adored my ladies.”

  There was an uncomfortable silence. Jill’s mouth went slack and she stared out the window, and her eyes were unfocused and emotionless, as if she were replaying an old memory. Moji cleared her throat.

  Jill blinked and looked at Moji. Her face brightened and a smile returned to her lips. “Oh look at me getting all sappy.” She picked up her drink and finished it with two large gulps. She slammed the glass to the table with a flourish and took a deep breath. “So where were we? Oh yes, as I was saying, I taught those girls almost everything I knew about how to grab and keep a man’s attention.”

  “Almost everything?” Moji asked.

  “Well, a girl's gotta have some secrets,” Jill said with a wink. “With all the girls doing their thing the club became more popular than ever, so much so that the owner at the time, a Mr. Jason Harlin, took notice and started to ask around about the new things the girls were doing. My name kept coming up in conversation, so he made a point to call me into his office and personally thank me for the work I had done with the girls. I thought that was the end of it, but a couple of weeks later he called me into his office again. This time Haywood was there. He told me how impressed he was with what I had done with the Hoe-girls. He said he was thinking of creating a cheerleading squad for the Houston Vipers and asked if I would be interested in leading the effort. I was floored. I had never done anything like that but I jumped at the chance. The next thing I knew I was holding auditions, looking for twenty girls who could meet the expectations that Haywood and I had set for the Houston Vipers cheerleaders.”

  “And what were those expectations?” Moji asked, trying hard not to sound overly callous.

  “Haywood saw how the customers at the Hoedown responded to the sensuality the Hoe-girls exhibited while they danced and he wanted to bring that same feeling to the cheerleading performance. He surmised that since the target audience for Houston Vipers football was the same demographic as those who patronized the services of the Hoedown, a sexually charged cheerleading squad would not only attract new fans but it would galvanize the current fanbase, enticing them to attend more games, buy more season tickets and luxury suites, and purchase more team merchandise. He was right on all counts. The moment the Houston Vipers cheerleaders hit the field they were instant celebrities! They got as much airtime as the team during televised games. Everybody wanted to meet them. That first squad I put together, many of them former exotic dancers, were experts at selling sexy. Everything from the uniforms, the dance routines, and even the way the girls gazed into the camera during televised games was meticulously planned and executed to emphasize their sensuality. We even had a name for the concept. We called it the Houston Hook.”

  Moji felt anger welling up in her gut. “So when you said that I would make a good Houston Hook, is that what you meant, that I would make a good objectified sexpot?”

  “Oh no, no, no Moji, that’s not what I meant at all!” Jill said quickly. “What I meant in your case is something much more subtle.”

  “Really.”

  “Alright now, don't get all huffy.”

  Moji leaned forward and shifted her weight to the edge of her seat. “Jill, I think it's time that you got to the point of this conversation.”

  “Ok dear, just hold on. Everything will make sense in just a minute.” Jill sat up in her chair, matching Moji’s stance and stare. “The profitability of the Houston Vipers organization is determined by two main factors, healthy revenue streams and reasonable, but minimal expenses. We already knew the Houston Hook concept, in the form of the cheerleading squad, had a significant and beneficial impact on revenue. What Haywood wanted to know was whether the same concept could be applied to the expense side of the business. So we talked about it and came up with a plan we thought would work, and dang it, if expenses didn’t start to fall. Not as quickly as revenues rose, but steadily over time expenses crept down to a level that was significantly below the median for the league.”

  “And what was this plan?”

  “Well, actually, it was pretty simple. Our biggest expense is player salaries. At the time, most teams relied on the terms of the collective bargaining agreement and player performance statistics to keep salaries at a reasonable level. We found an indirect way to drive the baseline to a new low.”

  Though Moji was still fuming inside at Jill’s implication that she could be used as some sort of sexual lure, as a marketing executive, her interest was piqued. After all, this is what they did at Leland Productions. They served their clients by developing and implementing marketing strategies that significantly improve the profitability of their client’s business. In ninety-nine percent of the cases, it was a strategy that involved increasing revenue. Marketing strategies that drove down expenses were rare, and if Leland could package this method that Jill spoke of, it could be a big differentiator between her firm and all the other consultancies out there.

  “I see your little marketing brain churning darling,” Jill said, all the southern gentility suddenly gone from her voice. “That’s why I picked you to work with me on this, because you’re smart. But before I go on, I need to remind you of the non-disclosure agreement your company signed with the Vipers. Don’t get your panties all wet thinking you’re going to take my idea and go make yourself a wad of cash with another team. It ain’t gonna happen.”

  Moji blushed. “I understand. I would never compromise the integrity of our firm or the relationship we have with the Vipers by knowingly violating a client’s confidentiality.”

  “Make sure you don’t. Haywood’s got some nasty lawyers. There’s nothing they would enjoy more than to sue your little company out of existence.”

  The look in Jill’s eyes convinced Moji that her warning was no idle threat. Moji knew that she would have to keep whatever Jill told her in strict confidence or risk the loss of her job
and maybe her career.

  “Do you want me to go on Moji? You look a little peaked.”

  “No, I’m fine. Please continue.”

  “Well darling, like I said, the idea is pretty simple. Here’s a question. Who has the biggest influence over a player’s career decisions other than their agent?”

  Moji thought for a moment. “Their parents or maybe their pastor?”

  “No silly! Our data says that parents and pastors have influence on how a player’s money is spent but they don’t play a big part in career decisions like contract negotiations, sponsorship deals, or whether or not to play with an injury. No my dear, those types of decisions are discussed most often with a player’s significant other.”

  “That makes sense. I should have thought of that.”

  “Now, that knowledge is widely known around the league. But nobody, except me of course, has sought to exploit that knowledge for the benefit of their team.”

  Jill stood up from the table and began to pace back and forth.

  “What if you could convince that girlfriend, boyfriend, or wife to be an ally of the team? They could feed you information you needed during contract talks or engage in a little pillow talk that encourages them to take this deal or that.”

  Moji frowned. “But who in their right mind would do that? Why would anyone undermine their relationship with their spouse or significant other to help their spouse’s employer make money?”

  “On the surface it doesn’t make much sense does it? But here’s the kicker. What if the player’s significant other was also on the team’s payroll? Better yet, what if that significant other was on team’s payroll before they became the player’s significant other?”

  “Are you saying that you’ve hired people to intentionally develop intimate relationships with players for the express purpose of manipulating that player into signing contracts that benefit the owner’s bottom line?”