by Sa'id Salaam
Earl, who had just driven for over twenty-seven hours straight, followed orders without complaint.
* * *
Pony was enjoying the back of Diva’s throat so much that he almost ignored his vibrating phone. “Oh shit!” he exclaimed, startling Diva off the wood. “Tell me something good, big homie,” Pony said as he eased Diva’s head back down.
“Eighteen for a whole one,” P.I.G. said warmly, “and it’s that glass.”
“That glass? Eighteen?” Pony repeated, enthused. He made a nice lick off the couple ounces of whipped dope, but his customers were grumbling.
“Come on,” P.I.G. said urgently.
Diva knew coke talk when she heard it and worked her neck a little harder.
“I’m coming!” Pony yelled to both P.I.G. and Diva.
CHAPTER 17
Tiffany re-counted her stash and could not believe the tally. Even smoking a quarter of an ounce a day, she still managed to squirrel away $10,000. Her freak show propelled her to the top spot at the club. It was beyond belief that men paid so much for her to get herself off. She was now the headliner, the position once held by her housemate.
The spotlight wasn’t the only thing Tiffany stole from Wanda. Mike now took her home three or four nights a week, while Wanda got none. Oddly enough, Wanda didn’t trip. However, her behavior became more erratic by the day as her cocaine consumption grew to Blast-like proportions.
Tiffany had set a goal to move once she reached ten stacks. Now that she had achieved it, it was time to bounce.
Mike had been promising to let her move in with him, but Tiffany couldn’t wait on him. After she put her money back in the shoebox that doubled as a safe, she set out to Mike’s.
I wonder what this “big favor” is, Tiffany mused to herself, mocking Mike’s voice. He had called and told her to drop everything and rush over, and that was exactly what she did, speeding to get there.
She was now head-over-heels in love with Mike, and she knew he felt the same. He just never said it, though he was always talking to her about “us” and “our future.”
“Yeah, he love you, girl,” she told her reflection in the elevator as it took her upwards. When she arrived at his floor, she glided down the hallway and rang the bell.
“Damn, you made it quick,” Mike said in astonishment. He pulled the door open wide and ushered her inside.
“I told you I’m here for you whenever you need me,” Tiffany told him, meaning every syllable. “So what’s this big favor?” she asked as they sank onto the plush leather sofa.
For a response, Mike leaned back and pulled out his semi-erect penis.
“My, that IS a big favor!” Tiffany chuckled as she stood to undress.
“Uh huh,” Mike said, pulling her back down. He gently caressed her neck, guiding her head down toward his growing erection.
“Nooo, babeeey. I told you I don’t do that,” Tiffany cooed. She had refused to go down on him, no matter how many times he made her cum with his tongue. The firm grip on her neck told her refusing wasn’t an option anymore. “I don’t even know how to do it,” she said, kissing the throbbing head. Finding it nowhere near as repulsive as she thought it would be, she kissed it some more.
“Mmmm, baby. I love you so much,” Mike said, causing her lips to spread. When they did, he pushed his way inside.
Tiffany had witnessed countless blow jobs at P.I.G.’s and the club, so she mimicked what she saw. She was soon working her head and hands like an old pro.
Mike slid a hand under her miniskirt and pushed a finger past her panties. They both moaned loudly as they pleased each other. A few minutes later, they came together. When Mike exploded in her mouth, he held her head in place, forcing her to take every drop. When he relaxed his grip, Tiffany took off for the bathroom like she had been shot out of a cannon.
Mike slumped back on the sofa as Tiffany spat, rinsed, gargled, brushed, rinsed, and spat some more. Five minutes later, she emerged, pouting with her arms folded across her chest.
“So that…was your big favor?” Tiffany asked with far more attitude than she felt.
“Actually, that is a part of it,” Mike replied, pulling her down next to him. “I have a very important client on the way, and I need to impress him. This is the break we need,” he said urgently.
“What do you need me to do?” Tiffany asked, eager to please.
“Exactly what you did just now,” he responded. “Fuck him, suck him, whatever he wants.”
The doorbell rang just as Tiffany opened her mouth to protest.
“Whatever he wants!” Mike said again before opening the door.
The visitor was a handsome light-skinned guy about Mike’s size and age. The two men greeted each other warmly with the standard pound and man-hug.
“Tiffany, meet John. John, Tiffany,” Mike said by way of introduction.
“Hey, John,” Tiffany said shyly as John came over to shake her hand.
“Hey, yourself, cutie,” John said eagerly as he took her small hand into his. “Damn, Mike. You said she was fine, but damn!” John exclaimed.
“Well, if you two will excuse me, I got a quick errand to run. Tiff, keep John comfortable till I get back,” Mike said on his way out the door.
The door closed before Tiffany had a chance to say anything. Now she was all alone with a stranger. She hoped John didn’t know what was expected of her. Maybe I can just kick it with him, flirt a little till my man come home.
Her hopes were soon dashed as John began to undress.
Not knowing what else to do, Tiffany undressed and let the stranger have his way with her. To cope with it mentally, Tiffany pretended to be someone else. She was freaking John every which way but loose. In the hour they were alone, she had done everything sexually that she’d done in her life. If pleasing him was pleasing Mike, then Mike should have been thoroughly pleased, because John was spent.
When Tiffany returned from rinsing her mouth out again, John was fully dressed. “Thanks, babe,” John exclaimed, extending his hand. “That was great.”
Tiffany thought it odd to shake hands after all they had done, but she didn’t want to be rude. When she took his hand, it was full of cash. She looked at him in confusion but said nothing.
John thanked her again and then disappeared through the door.
Tiffany was still standing there holding the cash when Mike returned minutes later.
“How’d it go?” Mike asked enthusiastically.
“Okay, I guess,” Tiffany replied, still confused as to what just happened. “He gave me money,” she said, showing Mike the wad of bills.
“Great! Go buy yourself something nice,” he replied. He watched with delight as Tiffany put the money in her purse, having officially turned her first trick. It would, however, be the last time she kept the money. “Okay. Well, I got some things to do, so I’ll see you at the club later,” Mike said dismissively.
Tiffany got the hint that it was time to go, so she did.
As soon as the door closed behind her, Mike whipped out his cell phone and dialed. “John pleased,” Mike said with a chuckle as his friend Will answered.
“Ooh wee! Nigga, you got a goldmine. Shawty is all that,” Will exclaimed.
“Oh, I know it! Got them old niggas lined up at $2,500 a pop,” Mike gushed.
“Shit! I got off cheap for that $500 I gave her.” Will laughed.
“Yeah, especially since it was my $500,” Mike said, joining the laughter.
CHAPTER 18
Wanda knew her life was spiraling out of control but was powerless to stop it. She had no brakes, and rock bottom was rushing toward her at 100 miles an hour. The rage inside her boiled as she thought about her situation. The young girl she had taken in to help out had, in turn, helped herself to her job and her man. Lately, Mike had been acting as if he hardly knew her. She’d lost her headliner spot at the club and was reduced to just being one of the dancers. As the featured performer, Tiffany was pulling in thousands; Wanda,
on the other hand, only brought home hundreds.
Tiffany was now paying all the bills because Wanda smoked away every penny she earned. She couldn’t give a fuck about a light bill or the cable. To make matters worse, the little ingrate was even talking about moving out.
A plot took shape in Wanda’s head as she drained the last bit of smoke from her pipe. Before even exhaling, she sprang into action. She began tossing pillows off the sofa and scattering items haphazardly around the room. Wanda unhooked the TV and DVD player and placed them by the door. She then tossed her own room and placed the valuables by the front door as well.
Having no idea when Tiffany might return, Wanda moved quickly in her room. She made a beeline to the closet and the brand-new Coogi tube dress Tiffany just got. “Gotcha!” Wanda said to the dress as she plucked it from the stuffed closet. Of course the dress was too small for her, but she still didn’t want Tiffany to have it. Tiffany had made a big show of the dress when she brought it home, making sure to show Wanda the $1,500 price tag and let her know that Mike’s money had paid for it.
Her anger grew as she came across item after item in the closet with tags still attached. She couldn’t wear any of it, but Tiffany wasn’t going to either if she had anything to say about it.
She couldn’t help but admire Tiffany’s taste in shoes as she dumped them from their boxes. Wanda had to do a double-take as thousands of dollars fell out of one of the boxes. The thought of how much dope she could buy caused Wanda to fart loudly. She was laughing and farting as she stuffed the money in Tiffany’s new Prada purse.
She quickly loaded her car with the stolen loot and pulled off. If she’d taken a right instead of a left, she would have passed Tiffany heading home. Since left was P.I.G.’s direction, she missed her.
* * *
Tiffany always felt a little dirty after taking a client, so after the three men she’d serviced that day, she felt absolutely filthy. She had her heart set on a hot bath and a blast, and not necessarily in that order.
A sinking feeling came over her as she pulled into the driveway and saw the front door ajar. “Oh, what now!?” she said aloud, wondering what kind of stunt Wanda had cooked up. Every day it was something. “Hello?” Tiffany called out cautiously as she pushed open the front door.
She was gripped instantly by panic when she saw the ransacked room. She ran on shaky legs to check her room and more specifically, her stash. Despite all the clutter, Tiffany’s eyes were immediately drawn to the shoebox that had once contained her stash. Her legs came out from under her, causing her to sink to the floor. All her money was gone. All she could do was weep, so that was what she did.
“You still got me,” a soothing voice said reassuringly.
“Huh?” Tiffany said, looking around the room for the source.
“You know I got you, girl,” the calming voice said in its singsong manner.
She tilted her head and looked at her purse, puzzled at the voice emanating from within it. She snatched it open and checked her cell phone, but it wasn’t on.
“Right here,” the half-ounce of P.I.G.’s finest said, chuckling. “I’m here for you.”
“I know you are,” Tiffany sniffled, removing the drug and her shooter. For the next couple of hours, she made small talk with her crack as she smoked.
When she finally got around to surveying the damage, a pattern began to take shape. Wanda’s stuff seemed to be tossed with care, while hers was destroyed, much of it missing. The clothes that weren’t stolen were cut up, and there was urine on her bed.
“This bitch right here!” Tiffany said, shaking her head as she dialed her phone.
When Mike heard the distress in her voice, he dropped what he was doing and rushed over. When he arrived, Tiffany was curled up on the sofa of the ransacked room. “Fuck happened here?” Mike asked, looking around the room.
“We…well, no, I got robbed,” Tiffany replied with a pain-filled chuckle.
“Don’t worry. Ima find out who did this,” Mike boomed.
“Oh, I already know who did it,” Tiffany replied.
“Who?” Mike demanded, sitting next to her on the sofa.
“Take a look around, then you tell me. It ain’t hard to tell,” she replied.
Mike didn’t budge, looking at Tiffany, confused.
“Go on. Look around,” Tiffany urged.
Moments later, Mike stormed back in the room, fuming. “That trifling lil bitch!” he yelled.
“Trifling ain’t the word,” Tiffany said. “Bitch peed in my bed!”
“What all she took? I’ll get it back,” Mike said in earnest.
“Uh, let’s see…$15,000, my clothes, jewelry, shoes…” Tiffany went on. “My panties…”
Mike was dialing his phone was she spoke. “She gon’ give it all back.”
* * *
Wanda was in the middle of a long pull from her shooter when Mike’s name appeared on her caller ID. She hit the ignore button, sending the call to voicemail. After holding the smoke for as long as humanly possible, Wanda exhaled. “Lemme see what dis nigga talking about,” she said, checking her voicemail.
She knew Mike was gonna take Tiffany’s word about the robbery, so she intended to avoid him for as long as she could. When she heard the message, she was filled with hope. Perhaps there is a way out. To be sure, she replayed it again.
“Babe, it’s me. There was a break-in at the house. Are you okay? Call me and let me know you’re okay,” Mike said convincingly.
Wanda immediately returned the call and told Mike she was fine and on her way. She glared at P.I.G., daring him to complain about the ounce she was taking out of the house.
P.I.G. stared back but said nothing. The way she was hitting that pipe was victory enough for him. P.I.G. was a vet, and he knew the end was near.
“I’ll see y’all later. My man need me,” Wanda told her fellow crackheads before turning her nose up at P.I.G. again.
“I can’t wait to see that black-hearted bitch fall,” P.I.G. said once Earl closed the door behind her. One thing he knew was that no one could keep smoking at that rate and not fall. He had been taking note of the gradual increase of her purchases and consumption. He noticed the subtle changes in her appearance that most people would miss. The jeans and shirt were designer, though wrinkled. Her usually meticulously done hair was pulled back into a lazy ponytail, tucked under a Braves cap. P.I.G. knew the difference between a bad hair day and a woman’s demise. He’d seen it hundreds of times, but none would be as sweet as Wanda’s. Just her sticking around to smoke with the “commoners” spoke volumes. “Just a matter of time,” P.I.G. snarled. “And I’ll be waiting, broom in hand.”
* * *
“Oh my God! What happened here?” Wanda exclaimed as she walked into the house.
“And the award for Best Actress goes to…” Tiffany chuckled at Wanda’s weak performance.
“Bitch, sit you rotten ass down,” Mike said in a deadly tone.
“Wh-what’s going on, Mike? What’s she talking ‘bout?” Wanda said, obeying the command to sit. She looked back and forth between Tiffany and Mike, wearing a pained expression. When her eyes met Tiffany’s, Tiffany sucked her teeth and looked away. “Fuck you sucking your teeth at me, bitch. I ain’t take yo’ damn money,” Wanda yelled, rising to her feet.
“Sit yo’ ass back down!” Mike ordered through clenched teeth. “And who said anything about her money?”
“I…I’m…I’m sayin’ tho’…” Wanda stammered. Realizing she was caught, she decided to Rush Tiffany. Getting her ass kicked was inevitable, so at least she could get a piece of Tiffany first.
Mike was too quick for Wanda and intercepted her before she made it across the room and began to pummel her. He was hitting her with his fists, feet, knees, and elbows. The heavy blows sounded off in the small room.
Tiffany, being unaccustomed to violence, was absolutely terrified. “Stop it! You’re gonna kill her!” she yelled, trying to pull Mike away.
In his fury, Mike wheeled around and slapped her across the room. The blow left her on the floor, dazed. “Babe? Are you okay?” Mike said, rushing to her side.
Tiffany was too stunned to reply. She watched Wanda spit blood and a tooth onto the carpet. Wanda took advantage of the reprieve and took off out the door.
Mike gave chase, but Wanda was too quick in running for her life. She was in her car and locking the door by the time Mike made it through the door. He took the front steps in a single bound and was at the car before Wanda could back out.
Wanda slammed the car in reverse and stood on the gas pedal. The tires squealed as she pulled out and down the street. She made it, but she left behind all her worldly possessions, things she would never see again in life.
Back inside, Mike found Tiffany packing what was left of her belongings. “What are you doing, baby?” Mike asked when he found her loading her bags.
In an instant, she had become tired of the sex and violence – tired of the club and tired of being a prostitute. She wanted to go home and be Tiffany again. “I can’t do this no more. I’m going home,” she pleaded.
“Fuck you mean, ‘home’?” Mike growled. “You belong to me!” he yelled, snatching her up.
“Nigga, you don’t own me!” Tiffany yelled, determine to take control of her life.
Mike’s hand was a blur as it sped toward her face. The slap, though not as hard, hurt more than the first because this one was deliberate. “Bitch, I DO own you. You are my property! Do you understand?” Mike screamed, inches from her face and clutching her harshly by the shoulders.
Tiffany was so scared she could only nod her head. She was shaking like a leaf, trying to pee on herself.
Mike sensed that he had accomplished his goal and softened his tone. “Look, baby…” he began, kissing her forehead as he spoke. “We are a team, you and me. I need you,” he said, feeling her relax with his words. “Ima make sure you get all your money back and then some. After we reach our goal, it’s over. You’re coming to live with me. That’s if you belong to me. Do you? Do you belong to me?” Mike then removed her clothes and laid her down as he spoke.
