Misty seethed silently for a little while, and then resumed her tirade. “How many women do you know who could survive having their own mother marrying their man? Make it so bad…Brick is still in love with me. He don’t want her. He’ll always love me. But he’s the type of man who’ll try to stick it out for the sake of his child.”
“Yo, Misty. Did you forget that Dane was a friend of mine? You dropped that nigga, Brick, after you met Dane. At first, you was fucking with Monroe. Then you acted like he was only a friend after you met Dane. You said Dane reminded you of some nigga who killed hisself.”
“Don’t you mention Shane’s name. I swear to God, Troy. If you say something bad about Shane, I’m gon’ spazz out on your ass.”
“I can’t say nothing about that suicide dude. I never met that man.”
“So what, Troy? Leave him out of this.”
“I’m just saying…you kicking it like Brick and your mom played you, when the way I remember, you moved Dane into your crib while Brick was still living there. What did you expect him to do? I know how Brick felt because ever since you brought Sailor home, you got me in that same kind of fucked-up position.” Troy raised an eyebrow. “You some kind of black widow?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“That suicide dude, Dane, and Monroe. All dead. Maybe I should really think twice about fucking with you.”
“I’ma pretend you ain’t hitting me with those low blows. I ain’t have shit to do with Dane and Monroe’s death. Bastards took my money and stole my whip. That was karma.”
Troy looked at her without commenting.
“Dane and Monroe got what they had coming. My own mother betrayed me. And believe me, she gon’ get hers someday. But now a goddamn faggot is fucking with me…ripping my entire operation apart. I swear to God…I can’t take no more.”
She shot Troy a dirty look. “And your ashy ass ain’t nothing but a momma’s boy, so fuck it…I don’t need you. Go ’head. Be with your mother. I don’t give two shits.”
Misty meant every word. She was never going to let anyone else have the power to fuck up her money. Not ever again.
Sensing that she meant business, Troy spoke softly, “Can we talk about this?”
“Fuck no. You called me a black widow.”
“I didn’t mean nothing.”
“Fuck you, Troy.”
“Come on, Misty. I was only talkin’ shit.”
“Go talk shit to your mother.”
“For real, man. I’m sorry about everything that I said.”
“Too late. I don’t want you and I damn sure don’t need you to get a Lamborghini. I can get it myself. You don’t believe me…watch me.”
“Misty, I’m sorry. Forgive me. I want a Lambo, too. Whatchu want me to do? I’ll get down on my knees if you want me to.”
She felt her mouth trying to form into a smile, but she prevented that by keeping her lips pressed tightly together.
Troy’s begging was not only putting a grin on her face, it was also making her hot. The lips puffed up, and became moist and bubbly, spreading into a big, juicy smile.
CHAPTER 21
Back in the apartment, she flipped open her laptop, in-tending to immediately change the password on all her accounts. There was no way was she going to sit back and let Sailor wipe her out the way Dane had done.
The video was pulling in bucks. Before pulling up the exact amount, she checked to make sure Troy wasn’t peeking over her shoulder. She could hear the water running in the shower.
Troy had better wash his cum-stained ass if wants to get some of this coochie.
Her eyes bulged as she stared at the computer screen. It was unbelievable. She’d racked up five thousand dollars since the last time she’d checked. That totaled seven thousand in one day.
She had to get her imagination going. Think up some more kinky shit. Making sex flicks was bringing in a fortune. This was her passport to success.
Hmm. What else is Troy good for…besides being ashy? Deep in thought, Misty rested her chin on her hand.
By the time Troy came out of the shower, Misty was in a fabulous mood. When she stood up, the closest thing to her lips was his forearm, which she kissed, leaving the imprint of lipstick-colored red lips.
“Yo, that looks like a tattoo,” Misty said, admiring the sight of her lips on Troy’s arms.
He held his arm up. “Damn sure does.”
Her eyes widened with excitement. “Oh, my God. I got a great idea.”
“What?” He looked terrified. Misty was famous for coming up with some pretty hellish thoughts. Her ideas always put a smile on her face, while Troy cringed in horror.
“You said you’d do whatever I want, right?”
“Yeah,” he responded apprehensively.
“Tomorrow, we’re going to a tattoo joint. I want you to have my lips branded on your arm.”
“Oh, aiight. Bet.” Troy looked relieved. “I never had a tat before, but I heard that only the real big ones hurt.”
“You frontin’, Troy. You know you’re scared of any kind of pain.”
“I can deal with a lil’-ass tattoo. I thought your mind might be on some scandalous shit.”
“Not yet.” She giggled. “All in due time.”
Misty had already visualized what she wanted to film next.
Two dicks engaged in a swordfight.
Troy’s long dick smacking against a formidable opponent.
Yeah, that’s hot. That freaky shit is gon’ bring in a lot of paper.
Now all she had to do was find another dick.
Bright and early the next day, Misty and Troy were en route to a tattoo studio.
She kissed a piece of paper, walked inside the place and handed it to the tattoo artist.
“Can you duplicate this?” she asked the tattoo artist, a bald white guy.
“Sure can, but it’s gonna cost you a lot more than you need to spend.”
Ew! The dude had a big-ass tattoo on his tongue, and some piercings. Nasty-looking shit. Making her flesh crawl. She wanted to grab Troy by the arm and get the hell out of there. “Anyone else work here?” Misty asked, her lips scrunched in disgust.
“Yeah, Lena. She comes in around noon. Why?”
“Just wondering.” Misty didn’t bother to wipe the frown off of her face. The man’s tongue darted out of his mouth excessively, like he was being a deliberate creep.
Unfortunately, she didn’t feel like waiting until noon and she didn’t want to piss away more time driving to another tattoo place. She’d have to put up with the sight of his disgusting tongue. Maybe if she didn’t say much, he would take a hint and stop talking.
“Why spend that extra dough on a custom tat when I have dozens of lip designs?”
She tried to avert her gaze. Tried to focus on his neck…his chest…anywhere except his mouth, but her eyes were inexplicably drawn to his monstrous, multicolored tongue.
“Nah, I want my own lips on his right upper arm. Money is no object.”
Troy scowled at her. “If money is no object, how come I can’t get my own set of wheels?”
“Troy, this is an investment. You’re always thinking small. Why don’t you look at the big picture?”
“My name’s Zelgore,” the creepy tattoo artist said as he pulled on a pair of rubber gloves. “You want it placed right here?” Zelgore pointed to the area below Troy’s right shoulder.
“Nah. A little bit lower. Troy doesn’t always wear a wife beater. I want my lips to be visible when he’s wearing a T-shirt.”
“Got it.” Zelgore cleaned the area that Misty indicated.
Troy fidgeted nervously. “Damn, man. Hold up. Whatchu ’bout to get in to? You acting like you tryna perform some surgery or something,”
“Never been inked before?” he asked Troy with a chuckle.
“Nah, man. Never been interested.”
“Be careful. Getting inked and pierced can be addictive.”
Troy laughed. “I ain’t worried ab
out no addiction. I’m not even doing this for myself. I’m doing this for her…proving how strong my feelings are.” Troy looked at Misty. He puckered his lips, pantomiming a kiss.
She smiled at him.
“A better way to prove your feelings is to make sure she’s feeling good,” Zelgore offered, trying to get on Misty’s good side. Then the creep winked at her.
Ew! She sighed audibly, and then switched her gaze to Troy’s arm. She eyed the creep’s work, prepared to find something to complain about.
Seeing the outline of her lips took away some of her bad attitude. Zelgore was a nutjob but so far she liked what she saw.
“Tats are cool, man. But piercing your tongue or…down below…” He paused. “A piercing in the right place will give her something she can really feel.”
The tattooist grinned, revealing his terrible tongue again. Misty released a groan.
Being in a seated position, Troy wasn’t forced to view Zelgore’s gaudily decorated tongue.
Misty wanted to get out of there. She was itching to go shopping. She needed to do something to take the edge off. But she couldn’t leave. She had to make sure the tattoo was done to her exact specification.
As Zelgore became engrossed in his work, his tongue lolled, reminding Misty of the way that Michael Jordan’s tongue used to hang out when he was making a shot.
Nasty. Misty looked at the floor, the walls, her cell…the front door. The clock on the wall.
Curiosity got the best of her. “What’s that tattoo on your tongue?”
Glad she asked, the nutjob happily projected his wide-ass tongue. Stuck it out as far as he could. Slimy bastard!
She gawked at the image inside his mouth and instantly regretted having asked to see it. He was sporting a damn mermaid on his tongue. Two silver balls that pierced his tongue represented her titties. And the bottom part…the fins and the tail and shit…were made up of all kinds of colors. Really fuckin’ bizarre. Goddamn! Why is the world filled with so many fucked-up people? Misty wondered, shaking her head. She definitely did not consider herself to be one of the multitudes of fucked-up people.
CHAPTER 22
Riding shotgun, Troy carefully reviewed the sheet of paper with care instructions for his tattoo.
“My arm hurts. I need a pain-killer,” Troy complained, looking down at the bandage that protected the new tattoo on his arm.
“I think we have some Tylenol back at the crib.”
“You think? Man, I’m in pain.”
“You need to stop whining, Troy. I’m tryna think how I’m gon’ pull this shit off. We’re back to square one. Just you and me. We gotta start the business all over again.”
Troy groaned in displeasure. “Yo, I’m out of commission. I can’t work for about a week. My arm really hurts, Misty. I’m dead up.”
“Shut up, Troy. You don’t use your arm on the job.” She gave him a sly look. “That is…I don’t think you’re using it. You might be playing with mufuckas’ dicks and balls for extra tips. You could be on some down-low shit for all I know.”
He sucked his teeth. Blew her off with a wave of his hand. “You crazy.”
“Then what you worrying about your arm for?”
He shrugged. “I’m just saying…”
Steering the car and keeping her eyes on the road, she spoke without looking at Troy. “You starting to seem suspect. Lemme find out.” She laughed; the tone held a malicious, taunting sound.
As she wheeled into a parking spot in front of her apartment building, Troy muttered, “Goddamn. This nigga done brought his ass back.”
Misty followed Troy’s gaze and was shocked to see Sailor standing on the steps, looking contrite. There were a couple of pieces of battered-looking luggage stacked near the front door.
“I hope you gon’ tell him to go back to wherever he came from.”
“I know how to handle my business. You said you’re in pain, so go inside the crib and lie down.”
“Here we go with this bullshit.”
“Go take some Tylenol and lay the fuck down!” she yelled.
Troy seemed to take forever to get out of the car. His body movements were unnecessarily languid and slow.
By the time he made it to the front steps, he found some reserved strength and bumped Sailor with the shoulder of his good arm.
“Watch it, dude!” Sailor barked.
“Fuck outta here,” Troy barked. He pulled out his key ring. As he began unlocking the main entry door, he sent Sailor dirty looks, trying his best to dissuade his nemesis from moving back in.
After Troy disappeared inside, Misty beckoned Sailor. With the engine idling, she waited for him. She already knew she was going to take him back, but she refused to make it easy for him. His bitch-ass needed to sweat.
Sailor took Troy’s seat. He covered his face as if coming up with an excuse for his actions was causing him anguish. He finally pulled his hands from his face. His light skin was flushed. “I’m really sorry, Misty. I didn’t plan on staying at Uncle Marshall’s. Things got a little out of control.”
“In what way? Did your gay uncle throw a pajama party for you and the boys?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m keeping it real! I don’t put anything past a mufucka who threatened to get me locked up because I called you! I didn’t even call you on his goddamn phone!” she bellowed.
“Calm down. I’m sitting right next to you. I can hear you. I get your point. Geeze, you don’t have to yell at me.”
“If you don’t wanna hear my mouth, then get the fuck out of my ride!” Livid, Misty yelled so loud, she could feel the strain on her vocal chords.
“Can’t we have a discussion? Instead of screaming and yelling, let’s have some dialogue…like civilized human beings.”
“Uncle Freaky didn’t talk to me like he was civilized! That pussy threatened me and you ain’t stick up for me or nothing!”
“That’s not true. I didn’t know that you two had spoken until after the fact.”
“And?”
“I got a different story from him. He accused you of making terroristic threats. He asked me for your full name and address. He was very determined to file a PDA against you. I refused to cooperate.”
“Wow, you’re such a gentleman,” she said sarcastically. “Why didn’t you come back as soon as you paid him for your shit?”
“I’m not a cruel person, Misty. At first Uncle Marshall was angry, and then he broke down…the man was genuinely moved to tears.”
“I bet.”
“Seriously. That man helped me when I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I couldn’t callously leave him in such a stressful, emotional state.”
“What about me? I was stressed the fuck out, too. I was worried sick. I thought something had happened to you.”
“I’m sorry. Can I move back in?”
“I don’t know, Sailor. You might be kind of shady.”
“That’s not true. I was in a sort of moral dilemma.”
“How so?”
“Uncle Marshall was hinting at committing suicide.”
Normally, Misty would have made a sarcastic comment, but thinking about Shane made her heart sink.
She changed the subject. “Okay, I’m going to give some thought to you moving back in. What about Izell and Lennox? And the new dude? Do they want to continue working for me?”
“Yeah. I got the impression that all the fellas are beginning to feel like Uncle Marshall may not be totally together. You know what I mean?”
“Shit, yeah. One look at that nutty fruitcake and I realized he was thrown the fuck off.”
“The fellas are also starting to doubt if he really has any connections in the fashion industry.”
“I told you he had game. You didn’t want to believe me. All of y’all are young and naïve. He took advantage of you. At least I’m putting money in everyone’s pocket.”
“You’re right. I was naïve. But not anymore.”
“I want
to believe you, but I don’t feel like I can trust you anymore, Sailor.”
“I’m giving you my word. Scout’s honor.” Looking corny, he held up his fingers in some manner that was supposed to instill trust.
“Fuck a scout’s honor. I have a better idea.”
“Anything.”
“Anything?” she repeated.
“Within reason,” he said cautiously.
“I want you to get a tattoo. Is that reasonable?”
“Oh, yeah. I can do that.” He pulled up his pants leg, showing off his stupid dolphin tattoo.
“I hate that tattoo. What’s the deal with you and dolphins?”
“I like them. They’re sweet creatures.”
“Umph. Whatever. We need to take care of the tattoo. Are you ready?”
“Can I take my luggage inside first?”
She glanced at his funky-looking suitcase and beat-up duffel bag. Shit looked like it needed to be tossed into a trash bin. “I guess,” she said with a reluctant sigh. “Ring the bell. Troy will buzz you in.”
“Hey, what’s Troy’s freaking problem? He deliberately bumped into me…like he’s looking for a fight.”
“He was taking up for me. Troy doesn’t like it if he thinks someone is trying to take advantage of me,” she explained, though it was a lie.
“Oh, I’ll talk to him,” Sailor said good-naturedly.
“Don’t even bother. Let him work through his anger issues. He’ll be aiight.”
Sailor took his baggage inside the apartment building.
She was really glad to have Sailor back on board. And the possibility of getting all Uncle Freaky’s boys seemed within her reach.
Misty pressed her palm against her forehead. Damn, she didn’t feel like putting herself through another torturous visit with that tattoo artist. Zelgore had to be the creepiest-looking dude she’d ever set eyes on. But she had no choice. She had to seal the deal with Sailor and get him inked. Today.
Zelgore was a wacko for sure, but he did phenomenal work.
However…the next mofo that got tatted with Misty’s lips was going to have to take his own ass over to Zelgore’s South Street studio.
CHAPTER 23
Lipstick Hustla Page 10
