Finding a working payphone took a lot longer than ten minutes. After finding one, he dumped in all the change he had in his pockets.
“This espionage shit is starting to work on my nerves. Tell me what happened,” Misty said, after she picked up his call.
“I murdered somebody,” Brick croaked.
“Huh? Repeat that, please.”
“This crackhead nigga broke in our house last night. Had a knife up to your mom’s throat. I ain’t ask a lot of questions. I fucked him up.”
“Protected your wife. Mmm. That’s gangsta. I’m loving the visuals. I know how you act when you go off. You black out…you get extremely animalistic.”
“Why you joking around, Misty? Ain’t nothing funny about none of this. Your mom is freaking out. I had to calm her down with some Xanies. Not the generic ones. I got the strong, football jawns. Bought ’em off the street.”
“Umph! I bet my mom flipped out when that doped-up nigga crashed into the crib. With all those bars up to all the windows…that home security system y’all got…how did somebody get inside the crib?”
“I don’t know,” he mumbled, not feeling in the mood to relive how it was his fault…for drinking…for letting his guard down. Forgot to lock up behind the neighbors…didn’t set the alarm. Left his house unguarded and allowed a schitzin’ lunatic to walk right through the front door.
CHAPTER 51
“I’m not feeling this loan crap. How much money are you requesting?”
“We gotta move from around here, Misty. Gotta buy ourselves another house.” Brick spoke quickly. Desperation coated every word that came from his mouth.
“We can’t sit around waiting for somebody to buy this one. The property value in this neighborhood is steadily dropping. I figured we’d rent the crib out…Section 8…so we can get the rent on time.”
“How much are you asking for?” Misty yelled, growing impatient.
Brick felt his heartbeat start to calm down. His softer tone conveyed a calmer spirit. “Being that my annual pay ain’t nothing to brag about…and your mom is on disability. We need to make a down payment of at least…sixty thousand.”
Misty started coughing. “You want me to fork over sixty thousand dollars?”
“I’m not asking you to give me anything. I need a loan.” Desperate, anxious, and distressed, he blurted, “I’ll pay you back, Misty. I promise. Please help me out.” Finding himself in a situation so desperate that he was pleading like a beggar on the streets, Brick suddenly felt compassion for the intruder whose life he’d taken.
“How you gon’ pay me back if you ain’t got no extra money coming in?”
“I’ll figure something out.”
“You expect me to hand over that large sum of money and then sit on my hands while you try to figure something out? I don’t think so.”
“Come on, Misty.”
“Well…okay…I know how you can pay me back,” she said in a sneaky tone of voice.
“H-how?” Dread caused him to stutter.
“Work for me. My mom don’t need to know about it.”
Brick wiped his hand down his face. Though it was cold outside, he was working up a sweat. “I put that lifestyle behind me. I can’t go back.”
“Hmph. Desperate times call for desperate measures,” she responded coolly. “If you pick up a few clients a week, you can work the loan off real quick. It should only take a couple of months of grindin’. Then you can go back to your ‘regular-folk life’…and act like nothing ever happened. It’ll be our little secret, Brick.”
Between a rock and a hard place, Brick didn’t speak. He couldn’t. His chest felt tight; breathing wasn’t easy. Forming words and making audible sounds was out of the question.
“I take your silence as ‘yes.’ So look, go find yourself a house with a little picket fence. I’ll foot the bill…but you owe me, Brick. You owe me. Don’t forget it.”
“I won’t. Thanks, Misty.” The words came out in a bitter whisper.
He hung up the phone, and then limped across the street. He’d gotten emergency daycare for his son today, but he had to get home and take care of his woman.
After the horrible ordeal last night…having a knife held to her throat, seeing a dead man’s body splayed on her kitchen floor…after cleaning up all that broken glass, spilled wine, and blood, Thomasina would go bonkers if she woke up and her husband wasn’t at her side.
Brick got in his car and headed home. Sweating, he imagined his house being decorated with that yellow tape the police used to broadcast a crime scene.
Thomasina was awake and frantic when Brick arrived home. “Where have you been, Baron? I was terrified. You can’t disappear on me like that.”
“You were sleep, baby. I didn’t want to disturb you.”
Thomasina started crying. “I thought they had you locked up. I thought our life together was over.” She clutched Brick. He enfolded her in a strong embrace.
“Nah, it’s going to be aiight. I promise you, baby.”
“Where’d you go? What was so important that you’d leave me here all alone?”
Ashamed, Brick looked away from his wife’s face. He didn’t want to tell her that he called Misty. “I…uh…”
“Baron, there’s always been mutual trust between us. Please don’t start lying to me now.”
She was right. He had to tell the truth. “I called Misty.”
“Why?”
“Asked her for a loan.”
“For what?”
“To buy another house. In the suburbs. Somewhere safe.”
“You told her about last night?”
“Yeah, she asked me why we needed a loan. I’m not a good liar, baby. I haven’t had any sleep at all. My nerves are shattered. So when she started grilling me, I caved. Felt like I had no choice but to come clean. I gotta get my family out of this house. Out of this fucked-up neighborhood.”
“We can’t move away from here.”
Brick looked at Thomasina like she was crazy. “Why not?”
“I watch a lot of crime shows, Baron. Blood evidence is always the thing that ties criminals to the crime. No matter how much cleaning they do…there’s always a drop of blood left behind.”
“We’re not criminals.”
“In the eyes of the law we are.”
“We cleaned up. With bleach. Shouldn’t be any blood stains left behind.”
“Baron, I don’t want to move. We’ll raise suspicions. Suppose, after we leave, someone comes in here snooping around and finds a drop of blood?” Thomasina pulled away from Brick. “We should let this blow over. This tragedy is between me and you and the Lord above.” Looking grim, she shook her head. “And now Misty knows.”
“I’m sorry, baby. I should have discussed it with you first.”
Thomasina rubbed Brick’s arm affectionately. “Like you said, you weren’t thinking straight. Neither of us are. I don’t want a loan from Misty. I want us to try to move forward. Act like this never happened. We have to put it behind us, Baron…as best we can.”
“You got a point. We gon’ stick it out together. Won’t talk about it. Pretend it never happened.”
“I wish you hadn’t told Misty,” she muttered. “This was our secret, Baron.”
Brick had mixed feelings about staying in a home where a murder had taken place. Fortunately for him…and his marriage, he wouldn’t need a loan from Misty that would have to be paid back with a pound of his flesh.
Every time Smash had a spell: too much to drink…misuse of prescription drugs…a headache…or a bout of restless dick syndrome, he called Misty to utilize her service. He always expected her to join the worker. Not for a threesome, but rather to throw off the gossipers. “Can’t have my name in the headlines on some gay ish.”
Raquel apparently didn’t satisfy all of his desires. Whenever the mood hit him, it didn’t matter where he was…the States or Europe. Even if he was across the globe in fuckin’ Japan, it didn’t matter; Smash expected
Misty to drop everything and bring him a muscle-bound dick slinger for him to slurp on.
Being a beard for Smash Hitz was starting to get old. Smash paid well, but Misty had to look out for her future. Suppose Smash found someone else to provide him with pretty boy dick? Where would that leave her? Up shit’s creek, that’s where I’d be.
Borrowing a word from celebrity stylist, Jules Miata, Misty approached Smash with the idea of putting her on retainer.
“Put you on retainer? What for?” he barked.
“You never know when you gon’ have one of your spells,” she said in a concerned voice. “I want to make sure you utilize my services exclusively.”
“Fuck that. I don’t have that many spells.”
Now that’s a damn lie if I ever heard one. Smash is in denial. Some-times he used her service two or three times in the same week.
“I don’t see why I need to put you on the payroll for work you’re not even doing.”
“But I’m always working for you, Smash. Every dude I hire…I hire with your preferences in mind. I’m fully staffed and able to offer you a variety of unique services.”
“I gotta think on this. Don’t want none of this to come back and bite me in the ass.”
Not too proud to beg, Misty continued, “I promise that you’ll have a never-ending supply of fine, young men. I’ll never send the same person twice. And if you don’t like the product, I’ll have back-up. On standby.”
“I hope you don’t expect me to sign my name on some shit.”
“Yes, actually I do. But don’t worry; the jargon will be worded in a way that gives the impression that I’m outsourcing personal assistants.”
“I gotta think about all this,” Smash said gruffly.
She didn’t want Smash to think too long or too hard. She needed to get a mansion and a sexy car. ASAP!
Baad B and Spydah were carrying on in public like crazy. Misty did not like the way their story was unfolding. Baad was pregnant and living in Spydah’s web. Her upcoming baby shower was the talk of Miami. Misty really wished the bitch would miscarry or, better yet…she wished Baad would drop dead from pregnancy complications. Fuckin’ bitch!
If it weren’t for the fact that the media believed that Misty and Smash were considered an item, all the gossip about Baad and Spydah would have Misty hiding her head in shame. But Smash was the wealthiest man in the industry. So as far as the public was concerned, Misty had come up.
But her heart knew the truth. And she couldn’t understand it. First I lose Brick to an out-of-shape cougar; now Spydah’s been snatched by an ugly-mug hoochie. I’m slippin’. But I’ma be up in a minute. Watch me.
CHAPTER 52
It was a long time coming, but Misty finally bought her dream home.
It wasn’t nearly as opulent as D.B. Spydah’s mansion, and couldn’t touch Smash Hitz’ palatial estate, but at $1.7 million, the six-bedroom property on Hidden Pond Drive in Chadds Ford, Pennsylvania was more than Misty could have afforded without Smash’s generous contributions.
Lately, Smash had been putting her on with some of his high-powered friends that had a penchant for dabbling in dick.
Now Misty was unstoppable. Money coming in from multiple big-money sponsors.
No more worries about keeping a roof over her head.
Before hiring an interior decorator, before one stick of furniture was moved in, Misty plastered the walls with her image. Jumbo-sized photographs and several portraits that were painted in oil were hung with utmost care.
Finally able to pay for his college education, Sailor happily accepted the keys and the title to Misty’s old X5. She was sad to see Sailor go back to Wisconsin, but didn’t miss him for very long. She had stripped Uncle Freaky of all his boys and kept lifting the new ones that he copped from the Caring Cottage. With so many hunks to handle, she didn’t pine for Sailor very long.
More money, more troubles.
Baad B was her biggest headache.
She had Spydah, she’d given birth to his little insect, and she had her own recording career, but she still wasn’t satisfied.
Baad kept tweeting about Misty, throwing slurs in her rap songs, and generally bad-mouthing and tossing threats every chance she got.
Misty asked Smash to handle it. He needed to shut Baad down. After all, Baad was signed to his label…and as far as the public was concerned, Misty was his girl. Of course, tranny Raquel hated that she did the dirty work, while Misty got the praise. Oh well.
For him to allow Baad to disrespect her had Misty looking bad in the public’s eye.
But Smash acted like Baad’s beef with Misty was cute. In fact, he was so much about his money, he was capitalizing on the squabble, giving the green light to a video where Baad and a Misty look-alike were engaged in a girl fight. At the end of the video, Baad whooped “Misty’s” ass, brushed off her clothes, jumped in a Lambo, and drove off.
Baad didn’t actually own a Lamborghini; it was a loaner for the video. But seeing her driving one sent Misty into a jealous rage.
“Misty?” Smash’s voice sounded uncertain.
“Yes.”
“What’s going on? I ain’t seen you in months. Where you been keeping yourself at?”
“I was just in Miami last—” Oh! Smash was pretending to be off-balance, over-medicated or drunk…pretending to be caught up in one of his spells. This mofo is really sick in the head. Why we gotta keep playing these games? Why can’t he simply tell me what kind of dude he wants?
“I miss you, too. I can come to Miami whenever you want.”
“Tonight.”
Oh shit! I’m starting to hate this needy mufucka.
“I’ll bring two new flavors with me.”
“Two? Why you gotta bring two?”
“They’ve been working on a tag-team routine. I thought you might enjoy it.”
“Mmm. That sounds interesting. Same price for two?”
Hell no! “Uh…yeah. For you. Of course.”
The new flavors were named Ryder and Kingston. The new boys were on top of their game, double-teaming Smash Hitz for hours. While Smash had Kingston’s dick in his mouth, Ryder served Smash from behind.
Misty decided to throw herself into the mix. Just for the hell of it, she gave Smash’s little dick a vigorous hand job.
The freaky foursome was a first for Smash. He was hooked and wanted more. Turned out, nothing compared to getting all of his erogenous zones catered to at the same time. He immediately put in an order for three men to pleasure him during the next orgy. Ca-ching, ca-ching! However, there was a hitch. Smash demanded Misty’s presence at the group sex fling.
He told her that she knew all his erotic desires; he shouldn’t have to say a word. She needed to communicate his needs to the hired help. Damn! Now I gotta position mofos and feed them lines, like I’m directing a porn flick. This is some bullshit!
Smash was a disgusting degenerate, but he and his freaky, down- low cronies kept Misty’s pockets fat. If she ever decided to write a book about all the celebrity and rich-ass mufuckas that like swallowing dick—Umph! Put it like this, there were so many powerful down-low mofos who used her services, it wouldn’t be surprising if one day, one of them decided to put a hit out on her ass.
Misty’s fee for brokering the team-sex transaction for Smash was a Lamborghini. It didn’t hurt to ask, goddamnit!
Smash didn’t blink and he didn’t stutter. “What color you want, mami?”
“Black,” she said in a calm tone, but in her mind, she was jumping, shouting, and doing back flips.
Gloating, Misty sent a picture of her standing in front of her brand-new, black Lamborghini to all the gossip pages. She grinned from ear to ear when she saw the caption: Smash Hitz Surprises Misty Delagardo with a New Lambo.
How you like me now, Baad B?
That feeling of elation didn’t last for long.
Smash was on a new tour…one that included Baad B, Spydah, and other rappin’ mofos. They were in the Philad
elphia area with two shows scheduled at the Wachovia Center.
Misty wasn’t thinking about Baad or Spydah… they could both kiss her ass.
What she hated was the fact that Smash was in such close proximity. His nut-ass was renting a hideaway mansion in the suburbs, about ten miles from Misty’s new spot.
The problem with Smash being so close by was that he kept calling Misty, ordering dick like it was Chinese takeout. As soon as he finished with a dude, he was hungry for another. Even with her long list of workers, she was running out of hunks to satisfy Smash’s voracious sexual appetite.
Smash preferred well-built, good-looking men, but Misty was running out of options.
“You my last mufucka,” she told Troy. “I done sent everybody on my team at some point in time. Smash don’t like dealing with the same mofo twice. So I don’t have a choice. I have to send you to take care of Smash Hitz.”
“For real!” Troy looked excited.
“Believe me, I don’t want to. And don’t be surprised if Smash returns your skinny butt back to me, demanding a refund.”
“That’s not gon’ happen,” Troy said with confidence.
“It better not, or I’ma dock your pay. Now go lotion yourself up. I can’t have you representing my company looking all crusty.”
Hours later, when Troy returned from Smash’s crib, Misty was expecting the worst. But Troy had good news. He assured her that Smash had such a good time licking the ashiness from his dick, the man had fallen asleep, completely spent. Completely satisfied.
“Great!” Misty said with a big grin. “I didn’t think you’d pull it off. I’m so proud of you, Troy.”
“He said he was only taking a little nap, cuz he has to jet out of here early…around sunrise.”
Have a safe trip…but goodbye and good riddance, Smash! As much business as he’d thrown her way, she should have been happy to speak with Smash every day, but goddamnit, that mofo was hard work. She could use a long break from having to listen to his Miami, country-sounding voice.
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