by K'wan
“Then for your sake, you’d better keep the wheel steady,” Marty said mischievously.
Persia watched curiously as Marty’s hands glided up and down the shaft of Julio’s dick. Marty ran her fingers over her pussy until they were wet, then smeared them on Julio’s throbbing muscle. Persia could see the veins in Julio’s neck bulge when Marty locked her thumb and index fingers of one hand at the base of his shaft and stroked him feverishly with the other one, causing Julio to whimper in pleasure. Persia wasn’t sure if it was the pill or the way Marty was working Julio, but she was getting turned on by the show. Without even realizing she was doing it, she dropped her hand between her legs and started toying with the lining of her damp panties.
All Julio could do was bite his lip and mumble in Spanish as Marty worked. She had the most gifted hands he’d ever felt. Her strokes now became aggressive and she squeezed his dick hard enough to hurt him, but he dared not tell her to stop. Julio’s face flushed red and he looked like he was having trouble catching his breath, which only made Marty stroke him harder and faster. The cruel expression on her face said that she was enjoying his discomfort. Julio could feel the buildup, but he was determined to hold it in for as long as she could, but when she dipped her head and ran her tongue ever so gently across the head of his dick, he lost it. Marty moved her face out of the way just as Julio shot his load on the steering wheel and his pants.
When the show was over, Persia released the breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding. A thin sheen of sweat had formed on her forehead and her panties felt soggy. She looked up at the rearview mirror and saw Marty’s eyes staring back at her. She wondered how long she’d been watching. Persia was embarrassed, but Marty seemed amused, giving her a playful wink.
“Damn you, Marty,” Julio said when he was finally able to compose himself. There was cum everywhere.
“You complaining?” Marty asked, wiping her hands with some McDonald’s napkins she’d found in the glove compartment.
“Not at all, baby. I ain’t never came that quick before,” Julio lied. “Listen, since that hand job was just a warm up, how about I pull over somewhere so I can get at you properly.”
“Aww.” She patted him on the cheek with the same hand she’d just wiped the cum off. “As much as I would love to, I don’t want my dress ruined before I get a chance to show it off.” Before Julio could press the conversation, Marty busied herself engaging her friends in small talk.
A few minutes later they were in Manhattan and turning onto the block of the club. Traffic was bumper to bumper and it took them almost five minutes to make it halfway down the block. The sidewalk outside the club was teeming with people. A line went from the entrance to the next corner and seemed to keep getting longer. The street looked like a car show, with foreign and domestic cars, fitted with rims, tints, and loud sound systems lining the block. Dudes talking loud and wearing gaudy jewelry trolled the sidewalk, spitting game at women who were dressed in little to no clothes. The whole scene was one juggling monkey short of a circus.
“This is insane,” Persia said, looking out the rear window.
“There’re always huge turnouts at Big Dawg events. I heard once they had to call in the riot squad because things got so out of control,” Sarah said.
“I wonder how long we’re gonna have to wait on that line?” Persia thought out loud.
Marty gave Persia a look. “Sweetie, for as long as you’ve known me, have I ever waited on line for anything? You’ve been hanging around the washed-up and impoverished for too long. Let me remind you how the young and privileged do it. Let us out right in front, Julio,” she ordered.
When Marty and her girls stepped onto the curb, they turned more than a few heads. Dudes tried to spit game at them and females rolled their eyes. Marty soaked it all up, hate and praises alike. She loved to be seen. With her head held high, and her walk confident, she strode up to the front of the line, where a burly man wearing a tight black jacket stood holding a clipboard and checking IDs. Marty flashed him her winning smile, expecting the rope to part like the Red Sea for her and her friends, but it didn’t quite play out like that.
“Line starts back there, ladies,” the bouncer told them.
“We’re on the list, I’m Martina Slaughter,” Marty introduced herself.
The bouncer scanned the clipboard. “Sorry, I don’t see your name, which means you’ll have to get on line.”
“My name has to be on there. I’m a guest of Shorty’s; he’s with the group,” Marty said, blinking innocently. She had no idea who Shorty was, but she figured there was somebody in the Big Dawg entourage by that name. Every rapper knew someone named Shorty . . . or so she hoped.
The bouncer frowned. “Who the fuck is Shorty?”
“He’s with the group. How do you work here and not know who’s performing?” Marty snapped.
“Look, I don’t know who Shorty is and I don’t know you. If your name isn’t on the list, your ass is on the line.” He turned his back to her.
“Maybe we should just go home. Julio couldn’t have gotten too far, call him and have him pick us up,” Sarah suggested.
“Fuck going home, we’re going to have a good time like we set out to do,” Marty told her. “If you think I’m going to let that minimum-wage goon ruin our night, you’ve got another think coming. We’re getting in that club; we just have to be creative about it.”
Marty fired up a cigarette, so it would look like they were standing outside for a reason other than not being able to get in, while her devious mind worked on a way to get them past the bouncer.
A red BMW pulled up to the front of the club and the valet stepped off the curb to greet it. Persia thought the car looked familiar, but couldn’t remember where she had seen it before, until the driver stepped out.
With a devilish smile on her face, she turned to her girls and said, “Ladies, it looks like our luck might’ve just changed.”
“Is this fate, or a coincidence?” Chucky asked when he saw Persia approaching him. She looked good enough to eat in her form-fitting dress and heels.
“I waited for you to call, but you never did,” Persia lied. She hadn’t even been home to know if Chucky had called her after school like he promised.
“My fault, ma. I’ve had my hands full all day with work,” Chucky told her.
“You could’ve had your hands full with me,” Persia said playfully.
Chucky was a little thrown off by her directness, which made him take a hard look at her. He hadn’t peeped it at first, the dilated pupils, the fact that she was having trouble standing still. Persia was high off of something, but what he couldn’t be sure. It didn’t matter, the fact that she was willing to experiment with more than weed was a feather he would stick in his cap and use at a later time.
“Looks like somebody is feeling themselves,” Chucky said jokingly.
“And why shouldn’t I be? I’m young, fine, single, and ready to mingle.” Persia did a little dance.
“From the way you’re rocking that dress, you might not be single for long.” Chucky licked his lips.
“I don’t know about all that, Chucky. I’ve yet to meet a man who could tame my wild heart,” Persia told him.
“That’s because you haven’t met the right one yet.”
“So you’re saying you’re the right one?” Persia asked.
“I ain’t saying I’m the right one, but I’m not the wrong one either,” Chucky said. He had a good mind to blow off his meeting and take Persia somewhere where he could fuck her high-ass brains out, but he had to be cool about it. He didn’t want to overplay his hand too early and ruin the game. “Why don’t you come inside with me and let me buy you a drink?”
“I would love to, but I’ve got my girls with me.” Persia motioned toward Marty and Sarah, who were standing off to the side watching the exchange.
Chucky looked at the two white girls, with his eyes lingering on Marty. She was taking slow drags off her cigarette and givin
g Chucky a look that could’ve been taken one of several ways. “Fuck it, bring them too. I got all of y’all.”
With his arm draped around Persia, and her friends in tow, Chucky marched up to the front of the line, where the same bouncer who had turned Marty away was still at his post. Chucky gave him his name, which the bouncer found on the VIP section of the list. Realizing that Chucky was a guest of the group performing, the bouncer hurriedly opened the velvet rope to let Chucky and his guests in. One by one he stamped each of their hands with the special emblem reserved for important guests. When he went to stamp Marty’s hand, he had a flash of recognition.
Marty took her time, finishing the last few drags of her cigarette, before tossing the butt at his feet. “I trust you’ll get around to taking care of that. It’s so hard to find good help these days.” She flipped her hair and walked into the club laughing.
CHAPTER 21
The stop by Omega’s shorty’s crib took a bit longer than expected. Omega’s shorty lived in a two-bedroom apartment in Wagner Projects on the east side. Li’l Monk had never been to those particular projects, but they were familiar by reputation. It was a less-than-friendly place to outsiders.
The taxi let them out on Second Avenue, and they trooped through the projects. The unfamiliar faces drew a few curious glances, but no one said anything to them. In front of the building they were going to, about six or seven dudes were posted up, all with hard faces and larcenous hearts. Omega moved through the group like he belonged, nodding to those he knew and breezing past those he didn’t. Omega had a way about him where he seemed to be able to blend in anywhere.
Omega’s shorty had a two-bedroom apartment on the second floor, which she shared with her roommate and the five kids they had between them. She was a shapely Spanish chick, who was slightly older than Omega, but still had the body of a young girl. Li’l Monk was shown to the bathroom so he could shower, while Omega was led to the bedroom so she could show him how much she missed him.
Considering how many people lived in the house and the fact that they had popped up unexpectedly, the bathroom was surprisingly clean. Li’l Monk showered and dried himself with the T-shirt he’d just taken off, since neither Omega or his chick had bothered to provide him with a towel before they went off to handle their business. From the shopping bags he’d brought with him, he pulled out a crisp pair of black jeans, black Gore-Tex boots, and a black button-up shirt. It had been quite some time since Li’l Monk had been able to treat himself to something to wear and the new fabric felt good against his skin, but the gun tucked down the front of his jeans felt better.
Li’l Monk sat in the living room watching the news while Omega finished handling his business and went to shower. There was a story being reported about three bodies found in the lobby of a Harlem apartment building, which made Li’l Monk sit bolt upright and pay attention. They didn’t release the names of the victims, but they didn’t have to for Li’l Monk to know they were talking about the messes he and Omega had left behind. He continued to watch, nervously, just waiting to hear his name or Omega’s in connection with the crime, but the police didn’t seem to have any suspects, at least as of yet. Ramses had told them not to worry about it, that he would take care of everything, but Li’l Monk still felt like he was walking on eggshells.
Omega eventually came out. His chick had twisted his dreads into three large plaits, and he traded in his street clothes for jeans, a blazer, and a graphic T-shirt beneath. “Why are you sitting there looking all crazy in the face?” Omega asked, noticing something seemed to be troubling his friend.
“Nothing, I’ll talk to you about it outside,” Li’l Monk told him and got up to leave.
“Do you have to go?” the chick whined, pawing at Omega’s jacket.
“I told you I gotta bust some moves, but I’ll be back to finish knocking the bottom out of that later on tonight,” Omega said coolly.
“Omega, that’s the same bullshit excuse you give me all the time when you promise to come back and never do. I’m gonna stop opening my door for you,” she threatened.
“When one door closes another one opens. You keep that in the back of your mind while you’re talking slick,” Omega capped. “Let’s roll, my nigga.” He led Li’l Monk from the apartment. The chick called after him, telling him that she was just joking, but Omega never turned around to respond.
“That shit was on the news,” Li’l Monk finally told Omega once they were in the elevator.
“What shit?” Omega asked.
“The shooting.”
“What they talking about? They got any suspects?” Omega asked anxiously.
“Nah, they’re clueless as to who did it,” Li’l Monk told him.
“See, Ramses said he was going to take care of it and he did.” Omega smiled.
“We splattered those cats in the middle of the evening, and I know the old head who came out of her apartment saw our faces. You don’t think anybody is gonna go to the police with information?”
“Not if they know what’s good for them,” Omega said. “When you work for Pharaoh, you’re protected. Nobody is gonna say shit because they know if they do, them and everyone they love will likely be dead before we ever see the inside of a jail cell. We good, stop worrying.”
When they came out of the building the dudes were gone, and there was a police cruiser sitting in the middle of the projects. Li’l Monk tensed when they passed it and the cops started staring at them, and talking among each other. Their eyes felt like high beams on them and the gun in Li’l Monk’s pants suddenly felt very heavy. Li’l Monk kept his eyes down and kept walking, not daring to take a breath until they were out of the projects and in a taxi on their way to pick up their ladies.
Sophie and Tasha stopped traffic when they came out of Sophie’s building. Tasha was wearing a tight jumpsuit with a leopard print and black thigh-high boots. Her dark face was made up smooth and flawless and there wasn’t a hair out of place. Tash was only sixteen, but that night she could’ve easily passed for twenty-something. Sophie kept it a bit simpler, but looked no less radiant. Red hot pants hugged her ass and thighs like they had been airbrushed on. Outside of a little lipstick, she wore no makeup, but she didn’t need any. Sophie was a little hood and rough around the edges, but she was a very pretty girl. Li’l Monk jumped out and held the door open for the ladies to get into the taxi.
“At least one of you has got some manners.” Tasha climbed in the car, rolling her eyes at Omega, who hadn’t so much as looked up from the blunt he was sitting in the passenger’s seat rolling.
Truth be told, Omega had just met Tasha that day, through Li’l Monk, and she had already let him hit it, which lost points for her in his book. Girls with loose pussies usually had loose mouths to go with them. In Omega’s chosen profession, secrecy could be the difference between life and death, so any girl he claimed he would have to know that he could trust her, which was why he didn’t have a steady girlfriend yet. Tasha was cool, but their relationship wouldn’t go beyond entertainment.
Li’l Monk didn’t hear her. He was too busy staring at Sophie. “Wow, you look really pretty.”
“Thanks.” Sophie blushed. “You clean up pretty nice yourself.” She fixed his collar.
“You two lovebirds get in the cab so we can make a move. I wanna get there before it gets crowded,” Omega said from the passenger’s seat.
Before heading to their destination, Omega had the cab stop by a liquor store, where he grabbed a pint of Hennessy for him and Li’l Monk and a pint of Long Island Iced Tea for the girls. On the ride downtown, they fired up two blunts of some Black weed that Omega had scored, to wash down the liquor. It smelled like burning wood, but it was high-powered pot. Everybody was feeling groovy, especially Sophie. She nestled close to Li’l Monk, eyes low and red, gazing out the window. He was surprised by the gesture, but receptive to it. He put his arm around Sophie, and pulled her a little closer.
“Y’all make a cute couple,” Tasha remark
ed.
“We ain’t a couple.” Li’l Monk withdrew his arm.
Sophie felt slighted, but she didn’t show it. “Yeah, we’re just friends.”
Tasha shook her head. “You two have been playing this game for as long as I’ve known you. Y’all always together, you’re fucking and neither one of you wants to see the other one with anyone else. It’s like you’re in a relationship already, so why not just make it official?”
“I got too much going on in my life right now to focus on a girlfriend,” Li’l Monk said.
“Boy, you sound crazy,” Tasha said.
“Leave it alone, Tasha. Ain’t nobody sweating Li’l Monk. Besides, his heart belongs to someone else already,” Sophie said.
The remark stung. Sophie was one of the only people Li’l Monk had ever confided in about his feelings for Persia. She knew it was a sensitive subject and had said it to hurt him, the way his rejection had hurt her.
For the rest of the ride, Li’l Monk didn’t say much and neither did Sophie. The earlier conversation had raised a wall of tension between them and for the first time things were awkward. This was another reason why Li’l Monk had never pursued a relationship with her. Sophie thought that Li’l Monk being in love with Persia was the reason that he refused to officially date her, but that was only partially correct. Next to Charlie, Sophie was his best friend and commitment would change that. He would rather not have Sophie as a lover than to lose her as a friend.
The cab let them out up the block from the club and they walked the rest of the way. Li’l Monk was surprised to see how many people were lined up outside. In addition to the club security there was also a noticeable police presence. He thought about stashing the guns, but Omega assured him that they wouldn’t have a problem getting them in.
At the door Omega greeted the bouncer with a smile and handshake, during which he passed the bouncer something Li’l Monk couldn’t see. The bouncer looked at whatever was in his hand, nodded, and opened the rope for them. When Omega and his group were directed around the metal detectors instead of having to go through like everyone else, Li’l Monk understood what the exchange was about.
