Lipstick Hustla

by Allison Hobbs

  Having two men bearing the image of her lips was definitely an ego boost.

  But there was a downside to being worshipped and adored.

  Twice in the same day, Misty had to physically put herself between Troy and Sailor. Under normal circumstances, she’d never put her precious body in harm’s way, but she needed these two Neanderthals to remain in one piece so they could go out on jobs and keep the money coming.

  It all started while Misty was trying to film them swordfighting. Neither Troy nor Sailor could keep an erection. Instead of battling with criss-crossed dicks, they were throwing punches. She had to put the camera down and stop them from killing each other. Assholes.

  “Fuck y’all,’ Misty snarled. “I’ma get Izell and Lennox to make the video for me.”

  “Aw, damn. I forgot to tell you,” Troy blurted out.

  “Tell me what?”

  “Um…he…um…” Troy became sidetracked when he noticed that the bandage on his arm had loosened during the altercation with Sailor. Distracted, he began fiddling with adhesive tape.

  “What did you forget to tell me?”

  “Oh, yeah. Izell wanted to talk to you about a party.”

  “What kind of party? Does he know someone who wants to book a party?” Excited, Misty started mentally adding up figures. A party for freaks could bring in a whole lot of stacks.

  Troy shrugged. “He didn’t mention what type of party.”

  Misty sucked her teeth. Troy was so dumb. Never could pass on accurate information.

  “Get Izell on the phone,” she ordered Sailor. “Even though my money bought his fucking cell, I’m not trying get Uncle Freaky riled up. He don’t need any excuses to send the law over here.”

  Sailor began pressing his touch-screen cell phone. “Hey, Izell. Misty wants to talk to you.” Sailor handed Misty his cell.

  Smiling, she pulled off an earring and pressed the phone against her ear. “What’s good, Izell? Troy told me you wanted to speak to me about a party.”

  “My cousin works with D.B. Spydah.”

  “Never heard of him.”

  “Rapper. Underground, mostly. But he gets a lot of play in Miami. Anyway, Spydah’s on the show with Smash Hitz—”

  “Smash Hitz!” Misty’s voice was high-pitched with excitement. Smash Hitz was one of the most famous and wealthiest rappers in the game. He owned his own record label, a clothing line, restaurants. There was gossip that he was about to buy a damn football team.

  Misty’s mental wheels began spinning fast. Her chest fell and rose rapidly. Calm down, heart. She rubbed the middle of her chest.

  Composing herself, she exhaled. “How do I fit into this equation?”

  “The show is scheduled for tomorrow, but Spydah and his associates hit town today. They got three suites at the hotel and asked me to bring some honeys through.” Izell laughed uncomfortably. “I don’t really know that many girls in Philly, but I figured you and some of your friends might want to—”

  “Hold up. Is this a paid gig?”

  “No, they just want some girls to party with.”

  Misty couldn’t believe what Izell was saying. Seething, she began pacing the length of the studio apartment. “I don’t take charity cases. I’m running a business…building a damn dynasty. What makes you think I have time to go round up a bunch of bitches to party with some unknown artist and his homeboys?”

  “Spydah’s big in Florida.”

  “Look, I never heard of no goddamn D.B. Spydah. I can’t believe you came at me with some bullshit like this. My time is precious. I’m about getting money, not fucking around with some broke-ass, opening-act mufucka.”

  “Can’t you do it for me? You know…on the strength—?”

  “On the strength of what? Kiss my ass, Izell.”

  “Misty, come on, man. Help me out with this.”

  “Hell no. First of all, I don’t fuck with bitches. Fucking with niggas is bad enough, but bitches are entirely too much trouble.” Misty thought of that hooker, Felice, with the big juicy pussy lips. That was one worthless hoe. A big-ass, unnecessary headache.

  “I’m just saying…” There was desperation in Izell’s tone.

  “I don’t care what you’re saying. Don’t sound like there’s nothing in this situation that would benefit me.”

  “Smash Hitz put a lot of money behind Spydah’s CD. It’s about to drop in a few days…it’s gon’ be big. My cousin said if I come through with some girls, he might be able to hook me up with a job on Spydah’s security team.”

  “You work for me, nigga! You gotta lot of nerve, asking me to help you get another gig.”

  “Misty, I’m working for you for extra money. Tricking is not a lifetime career.” Izell sounded weary. “You know that I want to get into modeling. I might be able to get my foot in the door if I’m working for a celebrity.”

  “I never heard of anybody going from a security position to landing on a magazine cover,” she said sarcastically.

  “Maybe not. But being close with one of Smash Hitz’ artists could lead to modeling some of the fashion in his clothing line.”

  Izell had a point. Misty mulled over his last comment. Somewhere in this situation, there might be an opportunity for her.

  “Hold on for a minute. I need to check out this Spydah nigga and see whassup with him.”

  Setting the cell down, she opened her laptop, and googled D.B. Spydah.

  To Misty’s surprise, there was tons of information on the young rapper. She clicked on a link that led to a gossip page and peered at a photo of Smash Hitz with his arm around a younger dude. The caption read: Smash Hitz and his new recording artist, D.B. Spydah.

  This D.B. Spydah mufucka is starting to look kinda good.

  She checked out a few more links and scanned the words swiftly. From what she gathered, D.B. Spydah was a fairly successful, mixtape artist with a name that was recognized on the streets of Miami. After a few years on the underground rap scene, he’d done over one hundred recordings…many with high-profile artists. Now that he’d landed a deal with Smash Hitz’ label, his hard work was finally going to pay off. Spydah’s debut album was scheduled to drop during his tour.

  Misty’s mind wandered as she picked up the cell. “How many girls does your cousin want you to bring?”

  “Uh…as many possible. You know…the more the merrier.”

  “How many damn niggas are in Spydah’s entourage?”

  “Uh…I’m not sure.”

  “So why am I wasting my time talking with you?” she snarled. “What’s your cousin’s name?”

  “Larry.”

  “Tell Larry to get at me. I need to speak with him directly.”

  “For real? You gon’ talk to him?”

  “You don’t know shit, so why should I keep talking with you?”

  “You’re right,” Izell said, laughing. “Okay, I’ll tell him. Thanks, Misty. I owe you.”

  “Whatever.” She disconnected the call. Izell’s punk ass better be thankful that I’m a visionary. My eyes can see beyond the here and now. I can see the whole, big-ass picture.

  CHAPTER 24

  Even though Spydah was rolling with only a four-man crew, his boy, Larry, wanted Misty to bring at least ten girls to the hotel.

  “I’m on it,” Misty said agreeably. But she was really thinking, ‘Ten girls! Nigga, you trippin’.’ She got the pertinent information from him—the name of the hotel and the room numbers, and the time the party was getting started.

  Now she had to locate Felice. Felice AKA Juicy was the last bitch Misty wanted to see. She suspected Juicy had been fucking around with her ex, Dane. She couldn’t prove it, but her woman’s intuition told her that Felice and Dane had been up to no good.

  Anyway, that big pussy hooker would be perfect. For the right price, Felice would fuck all seven of those entourage mufuckas. The only problem was that this Larry bull and the other seven dickhead, hangers-on didn’t think they were supposed to pay for pussy.


  I’m gon’ have to pay Felice out of my own damn pocket. Oh well, paying for Felice to fuck an entourage was a cheap price to get a pass into Smash Hitz’ fabulously rich world.

  I’m going to consider any money I part with as a wise investment.

  She wondered if Felice still lived at that same spot in North Philly. Misty drummed her finger on the folding table she used as a work station.

  How could she get in touch with Felice? When she met her, she was working as a waitress at Hades, a club down on Delaware Avenue. Misty thought of Big Boy, one of the bouncers at the club. Big Boy knew Felice and probably could put Misty in touch with her.

  Luckily, she’d kept a lot of her old numbers. She scrolled through her contact list and found Big Boy’s name and number. She called him immediately, praying that the number was still good.

  “Yo, who dis?” Big Boy answered.

  “It’s Misty.”

  “Misty? Hey! What’s good, mami? I ain’t seen you in a minute. Thought you fell off the earth.”

  “Nah, I’ve been in Miami working with this up-and-coming rapper named D.B. Spydah.”

  “Oh, yeah? I think I heard of him.”

  “He ’bout to blow up. Just signed with Smash Hitz. Yo, Big Boy… I might be able to put you on with some security detail. We flew in this morning to do the show at the Wachovia Center.”

  “Yeah, I heard Smash was coming to town. I gotta work to-morrow night, though.”

  “Don’t even worry about it. You can still meet him.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “I’ve been searching for a club to throw a fly after-party. I might as well rent out the VIP area at Hades and bring Smash and all his associates through.”

  “Yo…Misty. You dat bitch.”

  “Who you telling?” she said, laughing. “I’ma set you and him up with a quick conversation. If Smash is feeling you, get ready to travel, nigga.”

  “Yo. My bag’s already packed.” Big Boy gave a loud, belly laugh.

  As Big Boy envisioned his life changing from ordinary to super fabulous, Misty switched up the conversation, moving forward to the real point of her call. “By the way…have you seen Felice?”

  “Uh…nah. Last I heard, she was working at a strip club.”

  Misty wasn’t a bit surprised. Fucking hoe. “Where she working at?”

  “Downtown. At that joint on Twelfth Street…Silky and Sweet.”

  “Okay, I know the spot you’re talking about.” But Misty didn’t have time to run around looking for Felice’s dumb ass. “Do you know any of the bouncers who work there?”

  “Yeah, my bull, Myron, works there.”

  “Okay, do me a favor because I don’t have a lot of time. I have to holla at my peoples and let them know that we need to get with the management at Hades and set up the after-party for tomorrow night.”

  “Right. Okay, so whatchu need me to do?”

  “Get with ya bull, Myron. Tell him to put you in touch with Felice. ASAP! Lock my number in.”

  “I gotchu.”

  “Let Felice know that this call is about money. Shit, I might be able to put ya bull, Myron, on this, too.”

  “Nah, let’s not move too fast. Everything’s not for everybody. Y’ah mean? I’ma keep this hook-up to my damn self.”

  “Aiight. I feel you. Look, make sure Felice gets back to me real quick.”

  “I gotchu, mami,” Big Boy assured her.

  “Don’t embarrass me when I introduce you to Smash. You better be as big and burly as you were the last time I saw your ass.”

  “Shit, if anything…I’m bigger!” he promptly responded with uproarious laughter.

  Misty laughed with him. “Okay, Big Boy. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She disconnected the call.

  “Damn, I’ma playa! Did y’all hear all that game I just kicked!” Misty shouted.

  When no one answered, her gaze drifted over her shoulder. Sailor was engrossed in CNN news. Troy was nowhere in sight. Probably in the bathroom.

  “Hey, Sailor. Did you hear what I was saying on the phone?” Misty asked, puffed up with pride.

  “No, I didn’t. I don’t eavesdrop on personal conversations.”

  “Stop being a hater, Sailor. You know you need to give me my props.”

  “Seriously. I wasn’t paying any attention.”

  “Whatever.”

  The jangle of her phone pulled her attention away from Sailor. She didn’t recognize the number on the screen.

  “Hello.” Please be Felice!

  “’Sup, Misty?”

  “Felice?”

  “Yeah, girl. How you been?” Felice went through the pleasantries.

  “I’m doing fabulous, Felice. I just got in from Miami, girl. I’m working with Smash Hitz.”

  “Get out of here!”

  “Girl, you know how I do. So look. I need for you and a couple of your stripper friends to put on a private show.”

  “You want us to dance for Smash Hitz?”

  “Chill, girl. You gotta work your way up the ranks before you dance for Smash. I need y’all to shake your asses for his protégé, a young bull from Miami. Underground rapper called D.B. Spydah.”

  Felice screamed, “I love Spydah!”

  “You heard of him?” Misty was shocked.

  “Yeah. They always play him where I work at.”

  “Well, get your girls together and meet me at the Sheraton Suites parking lot. The one on Island Avenue.”

  “Okay. So…um, Misty, how much is Spydah paying?”

  “That’s the thing. This gig ain’t totally about money. Know what I mean?”

  Felice didn’t respond.

  “Y’all gon get free tickets to the show at the Wachovia Center and backstage passes.”

  “That’s all good, but I gotta tell the girls how much they getting paid.”

  “I’m paying you a flat rate. Five hundred for the night. You can break your friends off any way you want to. Look, if you’re not feeling this, let me know. I got some other strippers lined up; big fans who are thrilled to party with Spydah.”

  “I’ma fan, too. I’m just saying…”

  “Take it or leave it. I was lookin’ out for you. Getting you in with the hottest new rapper out of Miami because…you know…we had previous business dealings.”

  “Alright. I’ll get the girls together. What time should we be there?”

  As Misty expected, Felice caved.

  The story she’d given Felice was a lie. Free tickets and a backstage pass, my ass. The only thing that hooker is gon’ get is a sore pussy and some memories.

  CHAPTER 25

  Misty, Lennox, and Troy arrived at the hotel a half-hour earlier than she was scheduled to meet Felice. Sailor had been left home. She couldn’t pass him off as a thug.

  With Lennox on her left and Troy on the right, she waited for Larry to come down and escort them up to the suites. She wanted to get a feel for the situation…check out Spydah and get a feel for his generosity before she let the strippers run amok throughout the various suites that Spydah hooked up.

  Rocking a pair of cut-out platform boots, and a curve-clinging white dress, Misty turned heads in the hotel lobby.

  Larry got off of the elevator and took one look at Misty. “Damn, shawty,” he mumbled. Lust was evident in his eyes and also in his husky vocal tone.

  Times like this, Misty really appreciated being blessed with stunning beauty. She had a plan, and her looks, along with her brains and cunning, were going to get her everything she wanted.

  Unlike his cousin, Izell, Larry was not tall and had no bulk. He was a short, light-skinned bull. Kind of chubby. No sex appeal that Misty could discern. He was no tough guy, either. She wondered what role he played when Spydah’s entourage engaged in a brawl. Did he join in the kicking and stomping or was he the calming force in an unruly entourage?

  “I’m Misty,” she said. She nodded to her left. “This is my bodyguard, Lennox.” With his mean grille on, Lennox gave a head nod.


  With a slight head tilt to the right, she introduced Troy as her personal assistant.

  “Whassup,” Troy said, wearing a poker face.

  “I’m expecting the girls to arrive in about a half-hour.”

  “What about you?” Larry licked his lips unconsciously. “You in da business. I know Spydah’s gon’ want you for hisself.”

  Shaking her head, Misty smiled. “Nah, that’s not possible. I’m the procuress.”

  “The pro-what-ess?”

  “The middle man,” Misty said with laughter. “I don’t get involved in playtime. My role is to provide the girls.”

  “So who you bringing…a bunch of hookers? Spydah don’t believe in paying for pussy.”

  “The girls are exotic dancers. Their services are on me. I’m trying to extend a little brotherly love as a courtesy to your cousin, Izell.”

  “Aw, damn. I like Philly. Let’s go up to the floor.” Inside the elevator, Larry swiped his card and pushed a button. As the elevator ascended, he looked at Misty again. “I don’t know, man…Spydah gon’ definitely want to get with you.”

  She smiled politely, but her eyes were on Troy’s face, watching him like a hawk. Her stern eyes informed him that he’d better keep a straight face. Like Felice, Troy dug Spydah’s underground music. Misty had given Troy a strict order to keep it professional and not to act like a freaking star-struck fan.

  So far, he was holding it together. Lennox was on point with the bodyguard role…staying close to Misty like she was precious cargo.

  They got off on the top floor. Larry rapped on a door. “Open up, Mustafa.”

  As though he didn’t trust that it was really Larry on the other side of the door, Mustafa opened up slowly, beady bloodshot eyes taking in Misty and the two men accompanying her.

  Swiping at his nostrils with the knuckle of his index finger, he was acting like he was on some shit. He frowned at Troy and Lennox. “What these niggas doin’ here?” His bloodshot gaze shifted to Misty. “She a fly lil’ shawty, but where the rest of the bitches?”

  “They coming in a few,” Larry informed.

  Inside the suite, the three members of the entourage milled about. Spydah had a tricked-up-looking squad. None of them were easy on the eyes. They all looked crazy…like they’d been recruited straight out of jail or from a halfway house.