by Brick
That night after all the girls had finished the sets for the night we waited out back for the van that Dame would normally send for us, but it never showed. Surprisingly, the guard who was supposed to be watching me had disappeared too. What if that nigga is dead? I got to thinking.
“Y’all think he ain’t gon’ show up?” Niya asked.
“They said this motherfucker was dead on the news,” Bubbles added. “What if he is and this is our way out?”
“Our way out?” another girl repeated. “What we gon’ do if he is dead? All I got is the couple stacks I done made tonight and I ain’t got anywhere else to go. What the fuck I’ma do if this nigga is dead? I ain’t got nowhere to stay, nothing to eat, no clothes, nothing. Everything of mine was in that house.”
I listened on as most of the girls murmured agreeing with her. There we were, six young girls with no skill sets other than shaking ass and selling pussy. There was only one thing that made me different from them. I had $10,000 cash in my bag from the take on the night and a couple more stacks from what I had made the night before. Sometimes, if we made real good money, Dame would let us keep a couple thousand or so as a bonus. I’d been making enough bonuses to have a little stash saved up. While the girls were trying to decide their next move, I quickly called a cab.
“Where you going, Angel?” Bubbles yelled out once they all realized I was trying to make a quick getaway.
“I don’t know, but if this nigga Dame is dead, I can tell you I’m never going back to the Trap again.”
Bubbles rushed over and hugged me tight. “If I never see you again, thank you for always being there for me.”
All I did was smile and kiss her cheeks. I really didn’t have time to talk. I hopped in the back of that cab and told him to take me to the Westin.
I hadn’t looked back or been back to the Trap since. Yeah, at least that was the plan for me not to go back to the Trap. Life or God had a funny way of doing shit and at this point in the game, after all that I’d gone through, I wasn’t too sure there was even a God anymore. See, my intentions had been to run away from the life that Dame had forced me into. I had planned to do whatever was necessary to keep my nose clean, head above water, and stay out of trouble. Shit didn’t work out that way though. That $10,000 ran out quickly. Between staying in a hotel and buying food, that shit went as fast as it had come.
I was too damn scared to show my face at the City for a while for fear that Dame really wasn’t dead. Then one day I was out and I swore before all that was holy I’d seen that nigga walking into a restaurant talking to other bosses. That shit scared me so badly that I stood at the window openly gawking at the man sitting there. It was as if Dame had been resurrected. I stared for so long that he calmly tapped some cat in a suit and pointed in my direction without even looking at me. When the man got up and looked at me before moving toward the door of the place, I damn near killed myself in traffic on Peachtree Street trying to get away. I’d had no idea how close I’d come to falling into the clutches of a man who made Dame look like Mother Teresa.
“You keep watching me and people are going to start to talk.”
The voice startled me, bringing me back to reality as I sat on the bench next to the showers in the locker room. I went to turn around but he stopped me. I knew he was behind me but didn’t know how he had gotten in there.
“You wouldn’t know I was watching you if you weren’t watching me,” I responded.
“Put your headset on, then talk to me. That way if someone walks in it can look as if you’re just singing along with the song. And, for the record, I wasn’t watching you.”
My heart was beating in my chest because I’d known my past would catch up with me sooner or later. I did what he suggested then asked, “What do you want?”
“To know if my secret is as safe with you as yours is with me.”
“I don’t know you,” I told him.
“Good. I don’t know you either, li’l buddy.”
I responded, “Good.”
I could feel he was still there watching me although he was quiet. I didn’t know the method to his madness, but I assumed he wanted his secret to remain intact for the same reason I wanted mine to remain intact. He had a lot to lose, way more than I did. He’d built a solid image in the last few months, poster child for the NFL. If they had any idea that he had been a drug runner and hired killer, he’d be back in the Trap quicker than he could blink. Me, on the other hand, I just wanted a fresh life and a new start.
Chapter 3
Angel
“So, you’re the new girl, right?”
“Yes, I am, if you want to call it that.” I smiled and looked at the bulky football player sitting next to me. His big, beefy hand was on my thigh and, every so often, it would inch higher and higher toward my pussy. I just smiled and played it off. I looked at the man decorated in so much jewelry the lights in the room were dancing off of him creating a light show. He had a few things I wanted and needed. He was the means to an end. There was a party going on, one where the best of the best in the NFL were invited. In order for any chick to be there she had to be a part of the Bounce Girls and she had to be one of the main dancers. I mean, there were some other girls walking around, but they were all entertainment, which meant the man in charge had gone to Magic City and Diamonds of Atlanta and grabbed the cream of the crop.
Me, I was a Bounce Girl but only as an alternate, which was fine by me. All I’d wanted to do initially was get a job so I could be sure not to fall back into my old lifestyle.
“I’ll call it that because you have a different style about you. All these other chickens walking around here trying to catch a nigga’s pockets, but the fact that you bought me a drink says you’re different.”
“I don’t buy every nigga a drink, so the fact that I liked you enough to do so says you stand out to me. Look at you; you’re not all loud and boisterous like these other clowns.”
Reggie grinned; or at least I thought his name was Reggie. I couldn’t remember. And while he may not have been loud and boisterous in the sense that he wasn’t shouting about fine bitches, big booties, and liquor, his jewelry spoke loud enough for him.
I watched the man’s eyelids droop some more then scoped out all of his jewelry. I knew he had a bankroll in his pocket, too, since he had flexed just minutes before buying another bottle just to show me he could. That would be his mistake in the long haul. When I’d purchased him that drink, I slipped an Indigo pill into it. I didn’t know who had made that shit, but if you mixed it with alcohol, it put the biggest of niggas on their backs. It would be my fourth time running the scheme. The first three times had worked like a charm. Like I said, it would be a cold day in hell before I went back to shaking my ass and selling pussy.
He slid closer to me and I gave a fake moan when his fingers finally found their way up to my clit. I opened my legs a bit more so he could get a feel of what he wanted.
“Fat pussy, huh?” I asked with a smirk then leaned closer to his lips so mine could brush his as I spoke.
“Damn, girl,” was all he could say.
“Why don’t you meet me in the bathroom downstairs in the kitchen?”
His eyes widened. “Why not up here? Shit, we can get down right here if you want.”
“No, because what I want to do to you, you’re not going to want anyone to see. So meet me down there in ten minutes.”
I let my hand massage the ever-growing bulge in his pants. Since he was damn near slobbering from the mouth, I hoped this fool could actually make it down the stairs to the bathroom before passing out.
He stood then snatched me up with him, grabbing a handful of my ass in the process. “Ten minutes?” he asked with a hungry look in his eyes.
The grip he had on my ass actually hurt, but I smiled and played it off. “Yeah. Now go. My pussy ain’t gon’ stay this wet and hot all night.”
I was more than happy when that nigga turned and bumped into a few people as he made his wa
y down the stairs. I looked at my watch and started counting down to my next victim. Everything for the night was going as planned. All I had to do was get to the bathroom downstairs in ten minutes and I could have my bounty. If you haven’t figured it out by now then let me explain it to you: I drugged a football player and when the drugs finally took a toll on him, I would rob him of his jewels and his money. Then I would make my escape through the back door of the kitchen since it was the easiest escape route. At least that was the plan until shit went way left.
“This is how this shit is going to go, my man. And I’m only going to say this shit once, you’re going to take this shit, and you gon’ like this shit, understand?”
I watched Micah as Tino cried in front of him. What I had come to learn since joining the Atlanta Nightwings cheerleading squad was that nothing was as it seemed. From the auditions to where I was at the moment—some isolated mansion in the backwoods of Alpharetta—everything was a farce. Music bumped and blared around the place. There were hundreds of people in and out of the house at a time. The pool was live with half-naked men and women. The backyard was filled with people dancing and partaking in alcoholic poisons. Football players from all over were at the party. It was the big throw down before the next game with the Angels versus the Nightwings. Their rivalry was almost celebrated like a holiday.
“Micah, you ain’t tell me this many niggas was gon’ be in here like this,” Tino whined.
“Nigga, I don’t give a fuck how many niggas in that room. They paying so you playing, you feel me?” Micah gave a sarcastic laugh then wrapped a muscled arm around Tino’s neck.
To others passing by, it looked like Micah was just hugging his boy up, giving him dap, but I’d come to know better.
Micah spoke through clenched teeth. “Let me tell you something. I own you. Do you understand? I own everything about you including that loose booty of yours. All these down low niggas done heard about the way Tino swallow big dicks and take big dicks up the ass, no lube. They want to see what all the hype is about. So you pop this pill, drink this liquor, and make my money. And don’t act like I don’t break you off nice at the end of the night, too.”
Tino looked like he was about ready to fold into mist and disappear. He was one of the only three males on the cheerleading squads. To the outside world they were just guys there to spot when the girls were doing flips and tricks on the field, but those of us on the inside knew that all three of them were a part of the ring of prostitution and drugs: two of the dudes were candy for the down low dudes in the NFL who didn’t want anybody to know their secret.
“Micah, you told me this was about fun and I ain’t having fun no more. Some of these same niggas raped me last time,” Tino cried, but his voice was raised just a little bit too loud.
He drew attention with his antics and that was a no-go. I wanted to feel sorry for Tino because on the day that I’d made the team, he was one of the first ones to congratulate me. But I found out he was only being nice to me so he could introduce me to Micah. But I had peeped game from a mile away.
“Oh, so I see we using threatening words like rape and shit now, huh? I don’t know nothing about no rape, but I got this video that shows you sucking and fucking two niggas at once. The same niggas you screaming rape on be them same niggas on the tape. You got they cum all over your face, my nigga. So rape what?”
Micah had pulled away from Tino, and took a defensive pose. The crisp, ironed designer jeans cuffed over the fresh white Air Force Nikes, thick white designer T-shirt, and white blazer complemented the platinum and white gold sitting on Micah’s arms, neck, and in his ears. He was the squad’s manager. It was funny how Micah could be this smooth-talking pimp one minute, and then be a corporate executive when the time called for it.
“That was different, Micah.”
“Ask me if I give a fuck. I can take you out of this shit in a heartbeat.” Micah snapped his thick fingers. “Just like that.”
Micah glanced around quickly then clapped a hand on the back of Tino’s neck, bringing him closer so he could whisper in his ear. Whatever Micah said to him caused his spine to go so straight that one would have thought he was a statue. All the color drained from Tino’s face before he walked out of the room. Micah turned his attention back to me as he rolled his shoulders then brushed the lapels of his blazer over like it had some dirt or lint there.
“Now, where were we?” he asked me. “Oh.” He clapped once. “When you gon’ let me introduce you to all this money?”
As soon as I had walked into the party Micah summoned me. His main priority? To get me to do what he made Tino and most of the other girls on the team do: sell pussy. He’d cornered me just as I had been trying to leave to get downstairs.
I sighed and set down the champagne glass I had been drinking from. “I done told you, my pussy ain’t for sale.”
“You sure? Because I heard from some people who know some people that you used to shake that pussy down at Magic for my nigga Dame.”
I stood and glared at Micah. He and I had history. Being that he was one of Dame’s inside men, he got the pick of the litter when it came to the girls. I responded, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, but you do. I know you do, Angel.”
My whole body started to shake from the inside out. For months I’d been trying to hide all evidence of my old life. I knew that Micah was trying to force my hand. He had been talking loud enough for those standing around to slyly look on.
I licked my dry lips. “My name is Bianca,” I told him.
He tilted his head to the side and licked his lips in a way that reminded you of the singer D’Angelo. “I like you, Angel,” he said then chuckled. “My bad, Bianca. You’re beautiful and I can see why any man would want you on his team.”
He said that then got quiet, studying me like I was a test he couldn’t figure out. Men didn’t have to tell me I was beautiful; I knew I was. No, I wasn’t mixed with anything as far as I knew, but from the pictures my grams had of my parents, they had just been good-looking black people. I had a head full of hair, but the shit was wild and straight out of Africa. I loved my hair, but the business I was in had no use for it. So, I kept it braided down and sewed in the best weave money could buy. Although money had been tight, I knew a couple of guys who broke into hair shops and stole hair then sold it on the street for the low.
I kept my body in tiptop condition because I didn’t know any other way to be. I knew how to use it to get what I wanted, too. But if I was going to be selling my pussy then all the money was coming to me. Long gone were the days I lay on my back then handed over all my money to a nigga.
“I think it’s time for me to go,” I said then tried to walk past Micah only to be body blocked by two massive guards.
“Come on, now, Angel. Give me a chance to make this shit right. You ain’t like these other bitches, I can see that. I was testing you. A nigga can see you ain’t at all impressed by the lavish life I live, and I could use a down-ass bitch like you on my team. Fuck with me for a second, mamí.”
He was blocking my money and it scared me more than annoyed me. If I didn’t get my last hit for the night then I wouldn’t have anywhere to sleep for the rest of the month. I really couldn’t risk revealing myself too much. It was my paranoia that my old life would come back to haunt me. That was why it was easier for me to live in hotels. After checking in, I could pay for my rooms weekly or monthly in cash. The credit card and ID I had didn’t tell my real identity.
I knew Micah was full of shit so I didn’t know what made me turn around to face him. And I probably would have told him just how full of shit he was had the whole house not erupted with shouts of, “Enzo!”
“Oh, shit. My nigga Enzo in the building.” Micah grinned and rubbed his hands together like he was Birdman from Cash Money.
Bitches started pulling their dresses up a little higher, pushing their tits up a little farther and fluffing their hair. Micah rushed out into t
he hall through the sea of people and yelled over the balcony, “Yo, my nigga Enzo. Ey, yo, bring my man up to the suite,” he ordered then turned back around and ordered his guards to clear the room.
He selected only the baddest of chicks to stay in the spacious room that had different styles of lounge chairs and sofas scattered about. The only men left in the room were those of importance. I turned to leave the room because I really didn’t want to be a part of whatever was about to go down; but, more importantly, I needed to get to the bathroom downstairs.
“Naw, naw, where you going?” Micah asked.
He didn’t give me time to answer before he grabbed my hand and yanked me back in the room. Every Sunday Enzo’s name was everywhere: ESPN, sports talk radio, SportsNation, et cetera. So I knew that by being in the same room with him it would be hard to pretend I didn’t know him.
“You need to be here to see this history in the making. You know why they call this nigga Enzo? Because every time this motherfucker gets the ball in his hand, he touches the end zone. Been watching this nigga since he was in camp. Knew he was gonna fuck some shit up once he got to the NFL,” Micah bragged around the room.
I could tell when the famous Enzo had finally made his way up the stairs. People parted like the Red Sea and my heart stopped. Nervousness swept through me when I saw that familiar face. My hands started to sweat and my knees got weak. I tried to pull away from Micah so I could get the hell out of there.
“Micah, I need to go to the bathroom,” I whispered to him, trying to snatch away, but he wouldn’t let go of my hand.
“Hey, you’ll be a’ight, okay? Work them pussy muscles and hold shit tight until you meet my nigga Enzo. Keep in mind you’re only a fucking alternate dancer. You ain’t even supposed to be at this party. I made shit happen and I can take shit away. Just relax. You wit’ me so naan nigga going to touch you unless I say so, you feel me?”
Micah was so arrogant and cocky that he thought I was afraid of some random niggas trying to fuck me. But no, I had made up in my mind that if I ever ran into anybody from Dame’s old days I wouldn’t make contact and would act as if I never knew them. The only reason I’d stayed on the dance team after finding Micah was the manager was because it was easy access to the players. And that meant I was closer to freeing them of their jewelry and money. Enzo was one of Dame’s old henchmen. He was the one guarding me in the club the night I learned Dame had died.
