One of the goons stepped to Misty. “They call me Tragic.” His mouth twisted into a snarl as he pointed at her. “I wanna hit that when the party starts.” He backed away, biting down hard on his bottom lip, his body jerking like he was doing an angry dance. Then he started rhyming…freestyling about the many ways he planned on penetrating.
“You crazy, Tragic,” a goon in the back of the room said.
“I ain’t gon’ show her no mercy, Jru. She gon’ have to work hard to keep up with me. And if she slow down…I’ma pop, pop, pop that lil’ ass.” Tragic thrust his pelvis hard and fast…smacking the air in rapid succession, giving a demonstration of stroking and ass-smacking.
The fourth member of the so-called entourage named Jru wore an idiotic smile as he watched Tragic now extending his tongue, darting it in and out…and even rolling it. Misty would have loved to experience the feeling of a tongue rolling into her coochie, but not Tragic’s. His rolling tongue would give her coochie the creeps.
Jru picked up a bottle of Grey Goose and started sipping from the bottle. Between sips, his eyes flicked from Tragic’s antics to sneakily roaming up and down Misty’s body.
Ew, Tragic is disgusting. And the bull, Jru, looks like a rapist. This has to be the worst-looking entourage in the music industry. I hate all of them, but especially Tragic.
Misty clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Listen up. My name is Misty—”
Tragic started making crying sounds, wiping his eyes. His shoulders shuddered as he acted a fool, pretending to be weeping. “Ahhh,” he whined with his stupid, ugly self. “You got me misty-eyed, Misty.”
Though she wanted to slap the shit out of his silly ass, Misty gave Tragic a patient smile. “So…I put together a party for y’all. I got three girls scheduled to arrive in about fifteen minutes.”
“Three! We axed for ten bitches.” Mustafa was livid.
“Sorry about that. Anyway, they’re coming to party with y’all and they want to give you a good time.”
Lots of grumbles about there being only three bitches coming.
Misty held up her hand, requesting silence. The level of noise decreased.
“Ain’t gon’ be no rough stuff.” She pointed to Lennox. “My man over here…his name is Lennox and he’s gonna pull the girls out if it seems like shit is getting out of hand.”
“We don’t need no overseer,” Tragic jeered. And then commenced to dancing and rapping about slavery, masters, and bed wenches. Misty rolled her eyes. She couldn’t help herself. She really hated Tragic.
“Chill, Tragic,” Larry scolded. “Misty’s the manager for the girls; show her some respect.”
“So what if she da manager? Whatchu saying, man? We ain’t allowed to smash her?” Mustafa sounded angry and offended.
Tragic stopped dancing. Jru’s smile slipped from his face. He folded his arms, as he leaned to the side and gritted on Misty. Tragic and Jru waited for Larry to respond to Mustafa’s question.
Larry shook his head at the three buffoons. “No, she’s not here for—” He paused, his words interrupted by his ringing cell.
Unperturbed by the entourage’s blatant disrespect and the disregard of her beauty, Misty took over the question-and-answer session while Larry spoke on the phone.
“I’m the party planner, slash manager. Sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not on the menu.” Misty smiled and gave an unapologetic shoulder shrug.
Her announcement was met with grumbles of discontent and hostile stares.
Mustafa gripped his dick and grimaced. “I bet you got some good yams, Misty. Come over here and let me find out,” Mustafa said, his voice thickened and lustful.
She shook her head. The nasty and disrespectful comments were irking the hell out of her. She wanted to hurl obscenities at everyone in the room and roll out, but being about her business, she stood there, surrounded by anti-social maniacs, waiting for Larry to get off of the phone.
“Damn, now my dick is feenin’ for Misty,” Jru muttered. She didn’t get his name and didn’t care to know it.
“Yo!” Lennox swung around in Jru’s direction. “Watch your fuckin’ mouth, man. That’s enough.”
“Ain’t nobody scared of you,” Jru snarled.
Misty grabbed Lennox’s arm. “Let it go.” Though she was ready to join Lennox and roll on these morons, she maintained her composure, refusing to be provoked by slurs that came from the mouths of a trio of ex-con-looking morons.
Larry returned his cell to his pocket. “Spydah wants to meet you, but your bodyguard…and the young blood…” He nodded at Troy. “They gotta fall back.”
Lennox questioned Misty with his eyes.
“It’s cool,” Misty responded and followed Larry out of the suite that had become stifling with male testosterone raging out of control.
Spydah was a lot cuter than Misty expected. None of the photos she’d seen had done him justice. He looked to be around five-nine or ten, slim with a slightly muscular build. Faint mustache, smooth brown skin. His gear was fresh. Expensive jeans, designer T-shirt, and a hoodie vest. He had a cleaner-cut look than the average rap artist, and he definitely looked more polished than his squad of ugly goons. Fucking morons.
Larry made the introductions and Misty extended her hand. Suave as shit, Spydah brushed his lips across the top of her hand.
“Aw, nigga, don’t go soft on me now,” Larry kidded the young rapper.
“She’s so gorgeous, I’m getting misty, man.” Playing around, Spydah dabbed at his eyes.
There was instant chemistry between Misty and Spydah. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.
“My phone is vibrating in my purse. I’m sure the girls have arrived. I brought my bodyguard to make sure they’re safe.”
“Ain’t nobody gon’ get hurt.”
“You never know.”
“Anyway, I wanted to say welcome to Philly and good luck with the new CD.”
“Thanks. But um…that ish you said sounds like a farewell speech,” Spydah said, frowning worriedly.
Misty laughed. “I didn’t plan on staying for the party. But don’t worry. My girls will hold it down. They real bitches. Guaranteed to show you and your boys a good time.”
Spydah reached for Misty’s wrist. “Eff them girls,” he said, respectfully refraining from using profanity. “I don’t even wanna meet those strippers. For real. I can get with a stripper in Miami… or anywhere else in the world. I’m not feeling that. I’m on some other ish right now. I’m tryna get to know you, Misty.”
Misty tossed back her heavy black hair. “I’m flattered, but this is a…a really awkward moment.” She withdrew her hand.
Larry coughed and gave Spydah a curious look that said, Man, what the fuck is wrong with you?
When Misty’s phone vibrated, she quickly retrieved it from her purse. “Hey, Felice. I’m coming down now. Meet me in the lobby.”
Avoiding Spydah’s eyes, she looked at Larry. “The girls are getting impatient. You ready to bring ’em up?”
“Yeah, I’m waiting for the boss to give me the heads-up. Whatchu wanna do, Spydah?”
“Go down and kick it with the girls. I want a few minutes of privacy. Is that all right with you, Misty?”
She gave a reluctant head nod. “Lemme call my man and put his mind at ease.” Misty turned her back to Larry and Spydah as she whispered in her cell, assuring Lennox that she was okay.
“What man is she calling?” Spydah asked, uncomprehending.
“She brought a bodyguard with her. And a lanky nigga she called her personal assistant.”
“Bodyguard? What she into? She gangsta like that?” Spydah sounded intrigued.
Misty was enjoying all the attention from the up-and-coming star, and if she continued to play her cards right, she’d be standing right by his side when his cash flow improved. She hoped his rise to stardom wouldn’t take too long.
Larry left to go get the girls.
Spydah eyed Misty from head to toe. �
�I like what I see. Why you gotta bounce? Why can’t you and me chill together…right here in my private suite?”
“Sorry.” She gave him an apologetic smile.
“Oh, you’re not that kind of girl?”
“No, I’m not.”
“You manage a bunch of strippers, so why you frontin’ like you Miss Innocent?”
“You rap about blowing up shit and putting niggas in the ground, but I don’t take it literally. That’s you expressing yourself. It’s art. Not your lifestyle.” She spoke from knowledge. She’d listened to some of his music on YouTube.
“I can’t even say nothing. You got me with that.”
“Seriously, Spydah…I only came through to make sure everything was copasetic. This was a favor for a friend. I’m on some business right now.”
“I feel you,” Spydah said sadly.
“If it’s meant to be…we’ll meet up again,” she promised, wearing a smile that told Spydah she was feeling him, too.
“I’m not happy about this. After you leave, I’m locking my door and drowning my sorrows in a couple bottles of vodka.” Spydah gave Misty a lingering look.
She threw up her hands helplessly. “I have to go and pay the girls. On some real shit, I’m handling all their expenses. You might as well join your friends. Have yourself some fun. This party is on me.”
Spydah looked shocked. “Yo, I told Larry to invite some groupies. How much you gotta pay the strippers?”
“They top-notch. I’m paying ’em three stacks for the whole night.” The lie rolled off her tongue with ease.
“I ain’t even got that kind of cake on me. But I can get it…after the show tomorrow night.”
“Don’t worry about it. Tonight is my treat.”
“Nah, I gotta make this up to you. I’ma tell Larry to get you and your people good seats at the show tomorrow night. You coming, right?”
“Oh! Are you inviting me to your show?”
“Hell yeah. I want you to be my guest at the after-party, too.”
She had Spydah right where she wanted him. “That sounds real good. So…I guess I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
With those words, she pressed her lips gently against his and then rolled out. Strolling down the corridor, she met up with Larry, Felice, and the other two hookers.
Felice looked the same. Big tits and big ass. Cute…if you were into the trashy, stripper look.
Misty pulled Felice to the side, told her that Lennox would be looking out for her and the other dancers. “I want you to keep an eye on my assistant. His name is Troy. He can have fun, but he’s on my payroll. I don’t want him leaving here with a drippy dick.”
“I gotchu,” Felice replied. “You look nice, Misty. You ain’t changed at all. Still as fly as ever.” Though Felice was smiling, Misty could see the envy in her eyes.
“Thanks.” Misty peeled off five bills.
Felice grabbed the money. Pulling a stunt that would have impressed Houdini, Felice made the money disappear…beneath her clothes, somewhere.
Misty smiled. Five hundred dollars was a small sacrifice for a lifestyle change.
CHAPTER 26
You missed it, Sailor. Last night was off the chain,” Troy bragged as he shook Captain Crunch Berries into a bowl. “Titties and ass up for grabs.”
Sailor shrugged nonchalantly as he browsed through a University of Wisconsin catalog.
“I hope you ain’t smash nothing with the naked dick,” Misty said gruffly.
“Nah, man.”
“Lemme find out you ain’t strap up. I told Felice to keep an eye out. She’ll tell me the truth.”
“I ain’t got no reason to lie. I don’t stick my joint up in no strange nookie without covering it up.” Troy crunched cereal with a pissed-off look on his face.
“So what about the niggas?”
“What about ’em?”
“Any of ’em working with a broke wrist?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Stop playing, Troy. You recognize the signs to look for. Was anybody staring at your dick while you was stroking?”
“Oh, yeah. That beady-eyed bull was watching me. What was his name…Mustafa? Yeah, seemed like he had a homo side to hisself.”
“I’m not even surprised. That nut-ass was acting all pressed…talkin’ ’bout he wanted ten bitches, knowing all along that what he really wanted was some dick.”
Troy and Misty laughed together. Sailor turned the pages of the catalog, paying no attention to the discussion.
“You wanna go to a concert tonight, Sailor?” Misty asked.
“A rap concert?”
“Uh-huh. I got free tickets to Smash’s show.”
“No. I’m good.”
“You got tickets?” Troy asked.
“Yeah, Spydah said Larry is gon’ hook us up. By the way, how many women went to Spydah’s room?”
“None that I know of. He came through the suite where we were at. Signed some autographs…joked around for a minute, but that’s as far as it went. He went back to his own suite…by hisself.”
Good boy!
Misty stared at her cell as it vibrated on the table. “That damn Felice is blowing up my phone.” She served her purpose; now she needs to get a life and leave me the hell alone.” I ain’t got no show tickets for her dumb ass.
“Man, Felice’s coochie is crazy.”
“You fucked her?”
“Nah, I ain’t get a chance. I seen it when she pulled her thong to the side. She got a swollen jawn…big juicy lips!”
“She’s too stupid to know what to do with her assets. It’ll be a hot day in December before I give that slimy bitch any more work.”
“Y’all got beef?” Troy asked.
“She was fucking Dane behind my back.”
“Oh.” Troy knew better than to dig deeper. Talking about Dane brought out Misty’s evil side.
The phone vibrated so hard, it spun around on the table. Misty fell out laughing.
“Felice is really tryna get some work.”
“Fuck her.”
“That’s what I was tryna do.” A grin covered Troy’s face.
“Don’t make me hit you with this phone, boy.”
Misty picked up the phone and peered at the screen. “Two calls from Felice. Two from Big Boy.”
“Who’s Big Boy?”
“Some nut-ass bouncer that thinks I owe him a favor.” She turned her screen toward Troy. “Look…”
Troy squinted as he looked at the screen. “You got three calls from Larry!”
Misty nodded proudly.
“Call that bull back. He probably tryna finalize some details about the show. I wonder if they gon’ send a limo for us?”
“It don’t matter to me because I’m not going.”
Troy choked. “You not what?”
“I’m not going. That Spydah mufucka can’t buy me with a ticket and a backstage pass.”
“What about me? I wanna go.” Troy had a desperate look in his eyes.
“Chill, Troy. I’m sending you and Lennox. But I’m not going.”
“Why not?”
“I’ma let Spydah sweat. Trust. If my plans work, we gon’ be out of this dump.”
Misty dropped Troy and Lennox off at the Wachovia Center in South Philly. Izell was already there with his cousin.
During the drive home, Larry’s calls came in quick succession. She listened to his most recent messages and was surprised to hear Spydah’s voice instead of Larry’s.
“Why you not answering my man’s calls? I’m hoping to see you tonight. Hit Larry back. I’m gettin’ ready to go on stage.” He paused and then added, “Don’t disappoint me.”
She had never imagined that someone who seemed so hardcore was actually softer than a marshmallow when it came to matters of the heart.
Damn, that young bull, Spydah, might have some stalker tendencies.
On the home front, Sailor had gone out and bought himself a new Xbox and was in front of the TV p
laying Guitar Hero. All his white blood was evident as he moved around jerkily, throwing his head around, and grimacing like a rock star.
“Whassup, Sailor?” she yelled over the loud music.
He stopped. Looked embarrassed. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“You were caught-up.”
He blushed.
“What are you gonna major in when you start college?”
“Economics.”
“Oh, you on some high-finance shit.”
“I have an aptitude for numbers.”
“And your skills are going to come in handy in my business. Tell you what…I realize you’re not feeling being in the trenches…you like working behind the scenes, right?”
“Honestly…I hate dealing with those sick dudes that like men.”
“I know…so I’m going to give you the new passwords and let you handle the money aspect of things.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh. But I want you to continue dealing with the creative end…filming and whatnot. Also, I want you to help me manage the fellas. Book their jobs and whatnot. Can you handle all that?”
“Yes.” Sailor nodded emphatically. “Thank you, Misty!” He put the guitar down. Took giant steps toward Misty, bear-hugging her, he picked her up and planted an appreciative kiss on her lips.
She hated the feeling of her legs dangling in the air. Squirming, she demanded, “Put me down, fool.”
Sailor set her back on the floor. “Thank you for trusting me again, Misty. You won’t regret it.”
“Show me,” she said, licking the pad of her middle finger, and then touching the hard seam in the crotch of her jeans…the area where wet heat was suddenly accumulating. What was stirring her sexual desire? The big payday that was coming her way? Or maybe it was Sailor’s guitar performance when he didn’t know anyone was watching? There was something unrestrained and primal in the way he moved when he didn’t know someone was watching.
I don’t know why my coochie is on fire, but it’s a good thing Sailor is right here on hand to blow out the flames.
“I’ve been missing you, Misty.” This time Sailor picked her up gently. Cradling her as he moved toward the bed.
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