“Yeah, big daddy, I’ll keep it hot.” She hung up.
“Girl, you dangerous,” Baby Blue said. “The chief of security ain’t a smart choice to be fuckin’ around with. He can watch your every move.”
“Why you so scared about every damn thing?” Reba snapped as a store worker led them into the dressing room. “An’ why you all of a sudden followin’ the rules when you shit on Slut Rule number five. Never date your clients.”
“I haven’t seen Brian in six months,” Baby Blue said, staring at the floor. “That crazy white boy loved black booty an’ rap music an’ dressin’ like a thug. But he was racist as hell.”
“But he was a Babylon client till you started givin’ it away for free.”
“He wanted to marry me,” Baby Blue said as they stepped into the spacious dressing room with red velvet chairs and mirrored walls, “but his parents said if he married a black chick, he wouldn’t get his trust fund money when he turnt twenty-five.”
Reba admired herself in the mirror. “Sheee-it. If I was him I’d wait too. Keep the love tip on the down low from my parents ’til I get the money then say, ‘Guess who’s comin’ to dinner?’” Her ponytail bounced as she laughed.
“I don’t want no part of that,” Baby Blue said. “Besides, I’ll do dick for work, but personally, I’d rather get wit’ a girl.”
Reba rolled her eyes. “You know damn well you’d be all ova some dude who wanted to get married, have babies, and live large in the suburbs.”
Baby Blue shook her head. “It’s not even like that for me. I like pussy over dick so I ain’t tryin’a be wifed up by a man.”
“Shit, I am,” Reba said. “I’m on a serious man gettin’ mission right now. And it will be accomplished.”
“Who’s the man?” Baby Blue asked, hanging clothes on hooks.
“Knight.”
“You dream on, girl! You sound like Milan when she was goin’ after Duke. You can only lose; look what happened to that stuck-up snob.”
“Got her due for lookin’ down her nose at us for so many years,” Reba said as she pulled off her jump suit.
“You playin’ wit’ fire. I don’t care how prissy you think Miss White Chocolate be. She don’t mess around when it come to her man.”
“I ain’t scared o’ that bitch,” Reba said, admiring her big, brown titties in the mirror. “Neither was Janet.”
Baby Blue peeled off her T-shirt and low-cut jeans.
“Damn, girl! You ain’t got no panties on under them jeans?” Reba exclaimed.
“I like the way my jeans rub up on my clit.” Baby Blue tapped her fingertips to the top of her fat pussy.
“Hey now, how I’m gon’ resist all that shit in my face?” Reba moaned. She dropped to her knees. “Tell me you ain’t givin’ me leftovers after snow white took a bite of this juicy apple,” Reba said.
“Eat!” Baby Blue ordered, falling back on a chair, spreading her legs.
Kneeling on the zebra striped carpet, Reba rubbed her fingertips on top of that slippery brown berry. “Damn! Yo’ pussy wet,” Reba said right before she slid her tongue up and down on Baby Blue’s pussy lips.
Baby Blue moaned, “Oh, that feels so good!” Reba slid her tongue in and out of Baby Blue’s wet opening while she kept rubbing her clit with her fingers.
“Don’t stop! I’m wanna cum like that.” Baby Blue felt her walls contract as she closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation.
“I got yo’ ass now,” she said. “Say you gon’ help me.”
Suddenly, a knock on the door interrupted their pleasure.
“Ladies, a man is coming here to see you,” the store owner said with a heavy accent.
Reba faked a confused expression.
“Can’t they wait ’til I get my nut first?” Baby Blue moaned.
“You will.” Reba didn’t bother to cover up as she opened the door.
Antoine stood there with a big bulge in his jeans. His brown sandals matched the mesh style of his long-sleeved shirt, which showed off his flat stomach and upper body muscles.
Reba said, “You like Superman, you know when it’s some bitches in need an’ you show up wit’ just the right tools.”
“At your service,” Antoine said, stepping in. The manager rolled his eyes and walked away.
Reba closed the door. “Shoot! As much money as I spend in this joint, he bet’ not say nothin’.”
Baby Blue sat up, closing her legs. “Is this just a coincidence or a set-up?”
“I was shopping next door and I saw you two fine ladies stoppin’ traffic out in the mall,” Antoine bullshitted. “I knew you’d get freaky up in here, so I came to offer my services.”
“I don’t fuck Studs,” Baby Blue said.
“A Slut standing on high moral ground,” Antoine said.
“Betta watch out. A flash-flood can come along, cause a mudslide, and you’ll be slippin’ into the cesspool with the rest of us unscrupulous muthafuckas.”
Baby Blue glared at Reba. “Girl, you know I can’t stand his pretty ass. I’m outta here.” She stood and reached for her clothes.
“Sit the fuck down,” Reba said with a hard tone. “I was tryin’ to be nice, but now I see I gotta go ghetto on your seditty ass.”
Antoine sat on the arm of the chair beside Baby Blue and cast a fake smile down at her.
“Why you look all jumpy an’ nervous?” Reba teased. “I’m ’bout to make you rich.”
“I have enough money,” Baby Blue said. “My life is just fine the way it is.”
“Don’t think small,” Reba said. “You an’ me, as little girls in that rathole apartment our trick-ass mommas shared, they taught us to think small. Like yo’ little hook-up at Babylon all you need.”
Antoine laughed. “Time to get your juicy slice of Babylon’s pie. You’ll never have to work again.”
“Yeah,” Reba said. “Think big.”
Baby Blue crossed her arms over her bare titties. Then she crossed her legs. “You both crazy. If you think bum rushin’ me with a hot pussy in a dressing room will intimidate me into doing your death wish, forget about it.”
Reba snatched her phone out of her purse. “I’ll call Knight right now and tell him about you dating a Babylon client for six months, giving away thousands of dollars worth of pussy.”
Baby Blue shrugged. “Call him. I’ll pay it back. I learned my lesson. And Knight would understand.”
“You ain’t hearin’ me, bitch!” Reba raked her fingernails into the back of Baby Blue’s head, grabbed a fistful of hair, and pulled back hard.
Baby Blue’s eyes got huge.
“You gon’ help us an’ you gon’ get paid, so listen,” Reba said.
Chapter 68
In the small apartment over his mother’s garage, Duke searched the doctor’s eyes for more answers than the vague words that were coming out of her mouth. He needed to recover from this bullshit ASAP so he could get back to the work of taking what was his.
“It looks nasty as hell,” he said, laying on the bed and staring at the shredded skin near his right ribcage. “Tell me it ain’t as bad as that shit looks.”
Doc Reynolds dabbed a cotton ball with white cream on the wound where Knight’s bullet had grazed him. “I’m afraid you need stitches,” she said, examining him through her purple framed glasses. “And all that time in the water, you were exposed to bacteria and possibly toxins that are causing a bad infection.” She leaned down to his leg. She shook her head. “And this wound; I’m afraid you shouldn’t walk on this.”
“It’s just a cut,” Duke said, remembering the ripping sound as he went overboard and the sharp tip of the rope notch sliced open his thigh. “Good thing ain’t no sharks in the Detroit River. I woulda been cum like a mug.”
Doc Reynolds shook her head. “I’m afraid you need stitches there too.”
Duke tried to get up. “I ain’t got time to lay up in bed.”
Her gentle hand on his chest pushed him back down. “Duke, if you
were as healthy as you were a year ago, you’d recover quickly and easily. But the drugs have severely compromised your body’s ability to heal. And the blood test, I’m afraid—”
“Quit sayin’ you afraid; just tell me, goddammit!” Duke cut her off.
“Sometime over the past year, you contracted HIV,” the Doctor said. “Whether it was from unprotected sex or sharing a needle.”
“Muthafuck me!” Duke shouted. “How long I got to live?”
“If you get on medication now, it can prolong the onset of AIDS. But those drugs are costly.”
Doc Reynolds knew what she was talking about. She was a good doctor. But for whatever reason, Knight had ousted her and replaced her with fancier doctors. Now Duke was recruiting her to work for him again, once he got things back up and running. After he got his body back up and running.
“Give me all the drugs I need,” Duke said.
Doc Reynolds shook her head, making her smooth black French roll move from side to side. She crossed her arms over her all-white uniform. “I can start you off with the small supply, maybe a month’s worth, that I have at the clinic, but since I left Babylon, I don’t have unlimited access to free meds.”
Duke ground his teeth. “I’ll get the money.” And he’d get it from the folks running Babylon in two of America’s sexiest cities; Miami and Las Vegas. Shar Miller and Leroy Lewis were sick of Knight’s totalitarian regime and all his tight-ass rules. They were ready to bust out on their own, or bolster their bank as part of Duke’s new empire, Oz.
And I’m the new muthafuckin’ wizard.
Duke had just spoken with Shar and Leroy, who had both promised to put out feelers to recruit more Babylon controlled cities into Oz. Next, Duke was going to talk with sleazy-ass Moreno. Not for the meeting he’d planned a year ago in which Duke would seize all power from their family’s empire. This time, Duke would be teaming up with them, to bring down their common enemy: Knight. But first, Duke had to get his body back in top shape to run an empire and win back his Timbo lovin’ Duchess.
“Now I’m going to prep you so I can stitch up those wounds,” Doc Reynolds said. “I have to go to my car for supplies.” As she opened the door, Mama stood there crying. The dinner plate in her hand trembled so badly, the doctor grabbed it.
“Mrs. Johnson, I’m so sorry,” Doc Reynolds said, leading her inside.
“Boy, look at the mess you done made!” Mama shrieked. “No wonder Knight took control of e’rythang. You can’t no more run a business than stay alive. Now gone and caught the AIDS?” She grabbed a pillow and whacked him in the head. “Boy, you nothin’ but a dead junkie now. Ain’t no point sewin’ you up.”
“Mama, admit it. I can’t neva be as good as Knight in yo’ eyes. You, him, an’ Prince always looked at me as nothin’ but a knuckle-headed punk!”
Duke wanted to stand but his body hurt too much. All the rage from twenty-two years of feeling lesser than his brothers in their mother’s eyes suddenly surged up and shot out of his mouth like bullets at the woman who had both birthed him, and now, killed him inside. “You think I’m such an’ ain’t shit muthafucka’, Mama. I’ll be better off dead anyways. So go on back to church, tell God thank you for knockin’ off your no good baby boy. You and Knight can live happily ever after.”
Duchess’ face flashed in his mind.
“You even like his lady now, but you hated her when she was wit’ me!” He snatched the pillow and threw it at his mother. “Get the fuck out, Mama! You ain’t neva gotta look at this muthafucka again.”
Mama burst into tears. “Baby, I’m sorry. I’m just so mad you don’ throwed yo’ life away.” She spread her arms and leaned down to hug him. “I’m sorry, baby.”
Duke pushed her away. “Doc, take me outta here.”
“Baby!” Mama shrieked. “Baby, stay! You need rest! I’ll take care of you.”
Duke grimaced and gripped his leg and side as he angled his body to the edge of the bed. He pressed on the nightstand and forced himself to stand up, despite the blinding pain.
“Baby, stay!”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Johnson,” the doctor said as she put Duke’s arm over her shoulder and led him toward the door.
Duke turned back, focusing on the floor. “I ain’t stayin’ where don’t nobody love me. Bye, Mama.”
She screamed as he slammed the door.
Chapter 69
The Queen had never met the Moreno Triplets, but she strutted toward them like she owned the whole damn universe. Because after she got through with them, she would. At least the universe of organized sex for sale anywhere near D-town and a dozen big cities across America.
And that little bike chase this afternoon had shifted her all the way into bitch overdrive. If ever she wanted to use her mixed-race sex powers, she was about to whip some femme fatale on these muthafuckas.
When I get done, they’ll be beggin’ for scraps. And I won’t even toss ’em a muthafuckin’ thing.
Knight’s contacts had done extensive research on just what the Morenos controlled and wanted to acquire. They had massage parlors, escort services, and strip clubs. Now they were trying to muscle in on the traditional pussy party circuit. The kind that entertained men. But it turned out, Babylon had them beat in a big way, thanks to The Queen’s aggressive thrust into the female market. Only problem was, Moreno wanted what Babylon had. And this was the day to fuck them out of business entirely.
“Now it’s time for us to execute Prince’s Rule number four. Crush your enemies entirely,” Knight had said as they were chauffeured here by Ping and Pong in Hummer One. “But at the same time, they’ll never know they’re being smashed. The trick is to make them feel like they’re being praised as the kings.”
The Queen kept that in mind as she led Knight, Ping, and Pong into the private room of a five star restaurant on the seventy-second floor of the Renaissance Center. The all glass walls offered a breathtaking view of downtown Detroit, Windsor, and far beyond.
I love this shit. We’re on top of the world. And we’re stayin’.
The Queen loved the way her spiky, high gold heels cut into the carpet with every step.
A hostess led them to the sleek meeting room with walls made of beige suede and glass blocks. Inside, at a large, square glass table sat the notorious Moreno Triplets, along with a heavyset, light-skinned guy with thick facial features and a bald head. Beside him, a freakishly skinny blond chick in a tight white pantsuit perched on one of the brown suede chairs. Behind them stood one bodyguard; he was a handsome, African giant wearing a brown suit. A glass wall that shielded them from the sophisticated crowd in the bustling restaurant set a chic backdrop for this gang of six.
Now, The Queen loved how all of their eyes became enchanted and danced all over her as she entered. A rhyme popped into her head; she’d have to write it down later and put it into a song she’d call “A Bad Bitch.”
A painfully horny expression radiated from their eyes as they checked her out from head to toe.
They neva seen nothin’ like me.
The Queen held back a smile as these new onlookers downright ogled the explosion of titties in the scandalously low-cut lapels that pressed two humps of hot bronze decadence up and into their faces. She had spread some iridescent lotion over her titties to make them shimmer as they bounced with her strut walk. All of them looked at her like she was the lunch that would be served on the table full of cream colored china, silverware, and crystal glasses.
Yet their lust mixed with evil was so strong in the air, she could taste it. In fact, a chill hung inside this small room, even though the rest of the restaurant felt warm and cozy as they’d entered from the elevator. While she had savored the scents of garlic, steak, and seafood cooking as they approached, this room had the choking odor of cigar smoke and too much expensive cologne.
“Queen,” the men said in unison, rising to bow slightly. Each wore a white suit, shirt, and silk tie. Their skin was beige, which could have made them Bolivian,
Italian, Arabic, Yugoslavian, or even Spanish.
Knight had said they were from a small island in the Mediterranean Sea, but they had lived in Colombia and South Africa before joining an elderly uncle here in Detroit to stake their claim on his underworld empire before he died.
The Queen forced herself not to shiver as she checked out the diabolical vibe in their identical hazel eyes set in fleshy, clean-shaven faces with hook noses and thick black brows that were professionally sculpted. Their lips were unnaturally red, and their skin looked so pampered, it shone as if it were made of wax.
There was something familiar about them. Had she seen them before, or had Duke and Knight mentioned them so many times that she felt she already knew them? Or had she seen their faces and heard their names even before she’d come to Babylon? Had Moreno been among the names on those files that Daddy had asked her to feed into the shredder on that frantic Wednesday night before he blew his brains out?
The Queen’s mind spun, but her face was as cool and seductive as a Cleopatra mask. She stared hard into the redhead’s eyes as she purred, “You’re as gorgeous as legend has it.”
He stood and extended his hand. His manicured, polished fingernails shined under the light of the modern chandelier. And his white jacket fell open to reveal a huge bulge in his pants. The white fabric was thin enough to reveal that he wore no boxers or briefs; the rim of the head of his big dick pressed like a face against glass inside the pleated polyester of his pants beside his front zipper.
“Enchante,” he said, his eyes blazing with lust. “I meet beautiful women of every race around the world, but you are by far the most exquisite specimen of the black female I have ever had the delight of meeting.”
I ain’t a muthafuckin’ specimen in a science lab, but I’m glad you’re taking the bait. The Queen’s lips felt hot as she smiled and made her eyes glow with seduction. She did a slow body scan over him, holding her gaze at his bulge, before she looked back into his eyes.
This dude was gorgeous. He reminded her—wait, maybe he was the man she had always seen at those super rich, prestigious parties at her ex-boyfriend Brian’s mansion and at gatherings hosted by the parents of her ex-best friend, Tiffany. Daddy had even greeted that man, who always had dark, slicked back hair. And she had definitely seen the Asian chick on his arm before. The Queen remembered staring at that woman, wondering what her life was like as the sex kitten arm ornament for a gangster who was hooked into that very legitimate circle of CEOs, lawyers, doctors, and moguls.
Sex in the Hood Saga Page 38
