by C. Stecko
I sipped, then puckered my lips makin’ sure the deep reddish lip glaze was still noticeable. My sex appeal was at a level that not even I understood. I’d changed, almost overnight. No longer self-conscious, no longer unsure about what I was capable of. My new attitude matched my new financial come-up. Sweet was what I called it.
I remember Tony telling me the day I moved in to trust him. He said, “Always look good and always smell good. Target the best hoe’s in town and run a tight ship. Take those two statements, keep them close to heart, and we’ll make plenty of money.” He really had me strung out when he told me there were many girls he could’ve asked to run the spot, but it was me who he knew would make it happen.
Every day I tried to hang onto Tony’s upliftin’ words. It was all that could be done, ’cause he certainly didn’t allow me to hang onto him. Tony’s brothel had been officially open for a week, but he’d only come by twice. He said he knew business was boomin’ and that I had everythin’ under control. The first day we opened, Tony had a slew of his workers and their friends swingin’ by our spot. Crazy thing was, Tony had more black friends than I expected. They knew how to market like crazy. They’d even reached out to some dudes who sold major coke down in Harlem. Supposedly they were comin’ through later, so my ladies needed to be up on it.
I picked up the phone to try Mike one more time before my mornin’ Hoe-meetin’ began. It was crazy how he’d been ignorin’ my calls for the past three weeks. It seemed like the moment I told him that I was down with Tony he spaced out, didn’t wanna come around the new spot, didn’t wanna meet me out anywhere, and wouldn’t even accept my phone calls anymore. Mike didn’t believe me when I explained that this situation was short term for me. He claimed that Tony was into a lot of crooked shit, more serious than we both could imagine. And even though Tony said I could bring Carlton back to Brooklyn, and that he’d find us another place to stay, Mike wasn’t buying it.
Of course I got his answerin’ service on the first ring. “Hey Mike, it’s me, Co-Co. Give me a call on my office phone 917-555-0766.” I paused. “And Mike…I really need to see you.”
I hung up the receiver, took a lengthy, deep breath, and strutted down the long hallway to the great room. As I sashayed from side to side, my satin, long black skirt spread widely apart, exposin’ the explicit split straight down the middle. Funny how Cinnamon had commented on how I now seemed to walk with way more confidence than needed. I often wondered what the otha girls workin’ for me really thought about me. But then again, who cared. I felt like muthufuckin’ royalty, a feelin’ I’d neva experienced before.
Moments later, I burst through the double-doors lookin’ around to make sure every girl was up on their feet to greet me. That was one of my many rules.
“Bitches at ease,” I announced in the firmest tone my voice could give off.
Even though it was already my fifth day repeatin’ the same thing when I walked into my mornin’ meetin’, it still seemed odd deep down. My reputation as a strict, no-nonsense Madam was non-negotiable. It wasn’t how I wanted to get down, but how I had been instructed to behave. One, I had to earn my respect or get disrespected in the process. And two, Tony ordered it. Although I had a set of rules for my ladies at the new brothel, Tony had a set of rules for me, too.
I looked ova at my crew, Fruity, Danielle, Delicious, Cinnamon, and Kitty, all standin’ straight forward like soldiers. It was a small crew, but all I could handle considerin’ the size of the house. Three thousand square feet wasn’t as large as Betty’s but at least we didn’t have her huge problems either.
The only major problem we had since openin’ was taken care of with the quickness and almost turned deadly. Day two, a chick named Cache showed up unannounced talkin’ ’bout one of Tony’s boy’s told her to come by to see me ’bout workin’. I was a lil’ leery about the girls we hired; most were hand-picked by Tony, and had contacts with someone he knew who could vouch for them. From where I sat, no one could be trusted, but I decided to give her a chance. Her first night on the job the bitch started lying ’bout how much money she made. Unlike Betty, I ask all the patrons to sign a sheet on their way out with the amount they paid each girl. I ran a tight fuckin’ ship, and was determined not to let anybody get ova. I guess Cache thought she’d played me for a fool, but she got played instead.
Gino happened to be leavin’ after seeing the last contractor to his car. He heard me goin’ off on Cache and intercepted the beef. Cache ended up gettin’ a beat-down by Gino right in front of everybody. Blood gushed from her face while bein’ struck like a nigga in the street. He kicked her ass near my office and all the way outside to the front lawn, while she screamed, beggin’ him to stop. It scared the hell outta me, but I dared not show it. Watchin’ Gino’s three hundred pound body assault a woman caused pain to fill my eyes as I was reminded of Bo. So many times, I had to remind myself that he was behind me. I was a madam now, someone of substance.
Snappin’ from my thoughts, my feet moved slowly, marchin’ up and down the short line. Each girl had to be examined for hair, outfits, and make-up. While I inspected my line, I ran down my check-list recitin’ last night’s revenue, expected sales for the night, and issues that needed to be taken care of. I was on the second portion of my agenda when an annoyin’ voice sounded.
“I gotta pee.”
My pupils rolled toward the back of my eyelids. Stupidity seemed to make me ill. “What?” I shouted and moved swiftly in the direction of the voice. Delicious stood about five-feet-two with big brown eyes and oversized tits to match. Her body was well-developed, but her voice needed to catch up. It was light, squeaky, and damn near childish.
“Look a here, stop talkin’ like you should be at home playin’ with a Bratz doll instead of strokin’ a dick. Time is money. My money! So come again!” I held my hand up to my ear lettin’ her know I wanted her to speak…and fast.
She stuttered. “I got-t-t-ta pee,” she repeated.
“No. Nada!” I shouted, then moved down to Kitty who thought the shit was funny.
She was an eighteen-year-old, wide-eyed chick who seemed to be all giddy but hadn’t made hardly any money. I felt like the quota I’d imposed wasn’t too much to ask. As I moved closer, I wondered if her pussy stank. She had a pair of low rider jeans on that looked extra good on her small frame. She was cute and as usual wore a top to accentuate and show off her trim waistline. So for me, I couldn’t think of any otha reason that she wasn’t pullin’ in the niggas. She snagged a paid black dude her first day on the job who came in the door sayin’ he had a ‘g’ to spend. He’d somehow chosen Kitty, and left thirty minutes later with the majority of his money still in his pocket.
I leaned into her face. “Kitty, you either make me $500.00 dollars today, or your ass is outta here! Understood. Capiche?” I loved using Tony’s famous word.
“Got it,” she said.
“No… I said Capiche…Capiche?” I made sure my voice was extra deep.
“Capiche,” Kitty finally said.
I moved on to my next topic, the laundry. “Make sure if it’s your night to do the towels, do them. We don’t want no soiled funky towels in this spot, and of course if we get low on baby wipes, let me or Cinnamon know.”
I glanced down at Cinnamon who looked away from my stare. She knew she was my girl for life. Although we’d met a short time ago at Betty’s, we’d gotten real tight ova the last three weeks. She was startin’ to get to know the real me-my thoughts-my wants- my dreams. I had been lacin’ her pockets every night with a lil’ extra cash from Tony’s cut. All she had to do was help me run the place doing odds and ends, and to keep her eyes out for any shady shit goin’ down with the girls. Of course, I wasn’t gonna put my trust in those bitches.
Who knows- her co-workers were probably jealous of her, too. I made sure Cinnamon’s clothes were sexy yet classy, just a step under mine. Her perky attitude hadn’t changed so she always behaved like she didn’t have a care in the world. Suddenly,
I could tell they were gettin’ restless. Besides, the doors would be opened shortly. I ended with, “That’s it. Just remember, fuck hard, give good service and make that money!”
Damn, I shoulda been a motivational speaker, I joked to myself.
The girls all nodded in agreement and dispersed to either the oversized couch, or the bar that I’d put the final touches on just yesterday. Cinnamon waltzed ova to me and shot me an undercover smile. I winked, turned my head and headed back to my office to go ova the previous night’s take. Before I could even get out of the room, Kitty rushed behind me actin’ like what she had to say was extra important.
I stopped abruptly, then turned my nose up. “What?”
“I need to talk to you about something.”
“Is it work related?”
“Not really.”
“Then that shit can wait,” I snapped, then shut the door behind me.
Twelve hours later, I found myself in the same outfit, in the same office, doin’ the same damn thing. The scenario was startin’ to become the story of my life. I’d get up before the crack of dawn to keep an eye out any girls rollin’ out early in the mornin’. Then I’d start my daily beauty regiment, keepin’ myself lookin’ my best for Tony. Not once had he ever caught me without a nice hair-do and shiny colored lips waitin’ to kiss him ferociously.
My next move was the mornin’ meetin’, then I’d police the house and the girls ‘til ten at night, sometimes grabbin’ a bite to eat in between. Of course my night would end just the way it did tonight. Tired!
I looked ova at Cinnamon who made her way toward my custom cabinets. I saw her grabbin’ my favorite cigars and reachin’ for the lighter above the fax machine. She was so on point and truly my right hand. She’d already poured my trusty glass of Chardonnay and collected the loot from all the girls.
The mood was mellow, with Lalah Hathaway’s new CD playin’ in the background. We had money scrambled all ova the floor separated by fives, tens, twenties, and hundreds. I didn’t accept ones- they did me no good. We’d already counted once and came up with $2,800 dollars.
It wasn’t my idea of great, but we’d at least reached my quota for the night. I knew Friday was comin’ and of course had high expectations. We’d opened the Friday before and made $5,600 dollars the first night, so this Friday I wanted more. $7,200 was what I wanted, nothin’ less. It seemed as though I was becomin’ greedier by the day. The money was gettin’ good and since Tony gave me fifty percent for runnin’ the place, I was ultra satisfied.
Well, maybe not ultra. All I needed to really make me happy was for Tony to spend some quality time with me. I missed the warmth of a man with his arms wrapped around me at night. I paused, lifted my cigar and puffed. I grinned proudly toward Cinnamon as if everythin’ was all good. It was important to keep the morale lifted. As she scooped the money from the floor, and shuffled it into a large, white, plastic bag, I kept my thoughts on Tony. Crazy thing is, every night he would promise to come by and spend some time with me. “Just the two of us,” he’d say. But it neva happened. It seemed his wife had him on a tighter leash than I expected.
I threw my right leg onto my desk and puffed again. As I released, I got cute with my smokin’ abilities. I exhaled, blowin’ tiny circles into the air just above my head. Then I reached ova to pull back the curtains on the bay window. It had become my favorite feature of the house. I loved how it gave me a clear view of majority of the block. Call it nosey, but I loved sittin’ smack in front of the window late at night watching the cars go by.
“Quick! Turn out the lights!” I ordered to Cinnamon.
“You okay?” she asked.
She looked worried about me.
“Of course. Why you say that?” I kept looking out the window moving behind the thick mahogany curtains just a bit.
“’cause you actin’ strange. That’s why. Drink some more damn wine.” She laughed.
“I thought a car slowed down in front of the house, that’s all. I can see better when the lights are out in here.”
“I’ll leave the money here so you can put it in the safe before you go to bed.” She stretched her arms widely. “I need a shower, then I’m going to bed. I can’t keep stayin’ up with you half the night drinkin’ and smokin’ girl…I’ve got my beauty to maintain.” She laughed again while tappin’ the side of her cheeks.
“Bet,” I told her feelin’ extra lazy, or maybe even a touch of depression. “Put the money in for me. The code is 1223. It’s Tony’s birthday.”
For a moment, I wanted to retract what I’d just said. Tony would kill me if he knew I’d given Cinnamon the code to his safe. But hell, she was runnin’ shit behind the scenes anyway.
Before I knew it, she was done and had thrown Tony’s wallet onto my desk. “That was inside the safe,” she said. “Remember to give it to him, he left it here yesterday.”
“Thanks.”
When the door shut, I turned the music off and let my imagination go wild. I grabbed the wallet openin’ it up quickly. To no surprise, I was hit with a picture of his wife stuck down in the plastic slot on the left, and his driver’s license on the right. Without hesitation, I removed the license, rubbin’ my finger across his handsome face. I wanted him in the house with me. I needed him in my bed. I thought about callin’ Tony on his cell, but knew he wouldn’t answer. If he was gonna swing by it woulda been before ten. That was his normal track record. Either he’d spend a few hours with me during the day or a quick forty-five minutes before ten. Yet as always, promises promises, promises, that things would change.
I lifted the receiver and dialed. “Operator, I’m lookin’ for a number for Tony Marcelli.” I rattled off the address written on the license knowin’ the number wouldn’t be listed. I guess I wanted to torture myself.
When the female voice rattled off a telephone number, I yanked my foot off the desk and sat up boldly in the chair. What kind of gangsta had a published number? I hung up from the operator in a flash and dialed. My hands shook as the phone rang.
By the second ring, a mild-mannered voice spoke, “Hello.”
I said nothing.
“Hello,” she repeated.
“Is Tony there?”
“He isn’t. Who’s calling?”
“Chantel,” I answered boldly. She didn’t respond.
“Just tell’em to call his second home.”
Click.
Chapter 16
I woke up the next mornin’ a little later than usual. I’d spent half the night thinkin’ about my unstable life and where I really belonged. A part of me wanted to run far away where nobody even knew me; a chance to start my life ova again. Of course takin’ Toy’s cash with me entered my mind. Then, I slapped myself. I was makin’ crazy money; money I wouldn’t make anywhere else in such a short period of time. There was only one thing missin’ in my life.
As soon as the thought of Carlton entered my mind, my eyes darted to the clock. It was a couple minutes after nine, so I figured I’d give it a try. Callin’ Dre wasn’t one of the easiest things to do. He always had somethin’ smart to say. Of course tellin’ me what his girl thought about the situation like I gave a shit. If I were to ever find out that bitch put her hands on my son, it would be on and poppin’. The phone was on its fourth ring when she answered. The voice I didn’t want to hear. I tried to be extra nice.
“Ahhh…Lolita. This is Chantel. Did I miss Carlton already? I know he has to be at school by 9:30.”
There was silence.
“Is he there?” I asked. “Helloooooo,” I sounded off tryna be cute.
“You need to talk to Dre,” she snapped. “He said he was gonna tell you.”
Her tone worried me. What did he need to tell me? I asked myself. “Tell me what? You can tell me,” I replied. “No need to wait for Dre.” Chill bumps rose on the tips of my arms.
“Nah..it’s on him. I’ll tell him to call you.”
Click.
I nearly lost my mind. The bitch hung u
p leavin’ me hangin’. There was no way Dre was gonna call me ’cause he didn’t even have my number. Besides, I’d called a few times before tryin’ to speak to Carlton and Dre said he wasn’t home, or a few times he said Carlton was asleep. That nigga had plenty of opportunities to talk to me, but didn’t.
I paused for a quick second takin’ my mind off of my mini-panic attack. Kitty was at my door knockin’ like she really needed me.
“What the fuck is it?” I snapped.
“I really gotta talk to you. I got some info you probably need to know about.”
From the corner of my eye, I could see that both Gino and Mike had pulled up and double-parked out front. Instantly, I slid my big hoop earrings on and touched up my lips, hopin’ to get outside to break the ice. Gino was a beast, and since he didn’t know Mike, I didn’t want no trouble.
“Kitty, I don’t have time to hear it right now.”
I shooed her off with my hand, and hurried to throw on my gear. It was weird, but since I’d gotten my new position, it was hard for me to even listen to peons anymore. Besides, I had to hurry.
By the time I’d slipped on my pumps, and slid my revealing halter dress ova my head, Mike was knockin’ at the door. I rushed to get it, just in time to see Gino walkin’ up the stairs off the front porch, just yards behind Mike.
My expression showed that I was confused. I’d made a fool of myself thinkin’ Mike had come to talk to me. Instead, he was at my door with Angel standin’ next to him. Before I could even say anythin’, Gino brushed past them both and walked into the house like he owned the place. He neva said good mornin’, fuck you, or how’s everythin’. Nothin’.
