Smoothen Silky

by Derek Slaton

  “Dixxxxiiiee!” He missed her leg, and faceplanted into the shag carpet.

  “Well,” Rose cleared her throat, turning back to Silky, “they’re having a party on the beach later.”

  “DIXIEEEE.” Kerr squeaked out another of those high pitched giggles and pointed at her, arm wavering. “I… I can make your south rise again.” He hissed the last few words, raising his fist and clenching it for emphasis.

  “Huh?” Dixie and Trixie shrugged at each other. Then Trixie turned to Mixie and they exchanged blank stares. Then Mixie leaned forward to look at Dixie and they shared yet another shrug.

  “It’s okay hos, Silky don’t know what in the fuck he’s sayin’ neither,” their pimp piped up, and Kerr turned, eyes lighting up at the coffee mug. “Here, kitty kitty, come to ole Silky for some fuckin’ milk,” he cooed, backing up along the hardwood to coax the wobbly recruit out of the living room.

  As soon as Kerr crossed the threshold off of Silky’s shag carpet, his superior jabbed the mug forward, flinging the entire cup of hot coffee directly into his face.

  The recruit stayed still for a split second, drunk brain not registering what had just transpired.

  But then his nerves caught up with his head and they were on fire. He started to scream as his entire face started to burn up, feeling like it was melting down onto the floor.

  Rose winced as Kerr went down on his forehead, the rest of this body writhing about.

  “You was sayin’?” Silky prompted her, and she blinked, turning her gaze back to him.

  “We should be able to apprehend one of the frat demons at this party to find out what the Princess is doing to them.” She squared her shoulders, back to business. “They were all over her, and we had to extract Kerr, but on the beach in the dark we should be able to get one of the demons alone. The Princess might not even be there.”

  “All right, Silky’ll buy that,” he gave in, and leaned down to inspect Kerr’s cherry red face. “You sober now, bitch? Or does Silky need to get you another cup o’ joe?”

  “I’m good,” the recruit moaned, rolling away from him. “I’m good…”

  “That’s what Silky likes to hear, he does!” The pimp clapped his hands and tossed the mug behind him. It hit the floor and smashed into pieces. Rose winced. Why did the Boss trust them to stay anywhere nice? “Get your shit together, and be ready to leave in two hours!” Silky bellowed, and Kerr staggered to his feet, still moaning.

  “Ugh, you still reek like booze and barf,” Rose wrinkled her nose at him as he swayed in front of her.

  “Whoo-eee, you ain’t wrong, sista!” Silky held his nose dramatically, and wandered off into the living room. “You can be payin’ one o Silky’s hos to bathe you, honky, or maybe if you axe Rose real nice she’ll do it up for free!”

  Kerr raised his eyes to hers and she waved her hands in front of her frantically.

  “Oh hell no,” she said. “You can bathe yourself, thank you very much.” He swayed as trudged to the stairs, taking a deep breath before lifting a lead foot to land on the first step. Rose bit her lip as he managed to get up two steps before slipping and falling on his face.

  “I’m good, I’m good,” he whimpered, and struggled to get back to his feet. She pinched the bridge of her nose.

  “Ugh, I’m going to regret this,” she muttered, and hooked one of his arms over her shoulders to help him up the stairs.

  “You are so not going to regret this,” Kerr promised, trying to slip his arm further around her.

  “I’m not bathing you, I’m just helping you up to the bathroom, you horny drunk idiot,” Rose snapped. “And if you are anything less than gentlemanly I will kick your ass back down the stairs, understand?”

  He lazily curled his fingers into an a-okay sign, and then went full dead weight on her. She grunted and heaved, realizing that she was willingly carrying a half sober recruit up a flight of stairs in suburbia so he could shower before escorting her and a prostitute to a frat party.

  She couldn’t say that Agency life wasn’t interesting.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Kerr peeked out through the hay-like grass, peering down at the beach through his binoculars. They were night-vision, and he almost wished he’d worn sunglasses to stare through the damn things as the remains of his headache pulsed in the back of his head.

  But he was better off than he could have been. The vomiting at least had blown most of the alcohol out of his body before it had started to digest. He’d been lucky that Rose and Trixie had been able to get him out of there, and away from the Princess’ evil wiles.

  “There doesn’t look like there are too many of them,” he said quietly. “That’s good, right?” The beach behind the fraternity mansion had a bonfire that glowed a headache inducing white in the glow of the night-vision. But around it were a few staggering figures and some couples hanging off of each other in various positions up and down the sand bar.

  He flipped to regular vision to try to save his eyeballs--and his piercing forehead--the strain and watch for Trixie’s signature blonde pouf.

  “Could be,” Silky shrugged, reclining in the pop up chair he’d brought. “Depends.”

  Kerr shuffled back through their camouflage, raising an eyebrow at his relaxed superior. “Depends on what?”

  “Just depends, cracka,” Silky threw a hand up dismissively. “Just depends.”

  The recruit sighed, not particularly enjoying being told facts without being taught how those conclusions were come to. He was supposed to be learning, right? He dug in his pocket for the little bottle of Advil that Trixie had procured for him, and popped two, swallowing them dry.

  He felt a surge of bravery as he parted the grass again, taking a deep breath to ask the question he’d been burning with all day. “So what’s your story?” He asked, as casually as he could muster.

  “What you talkin’ about, honky?” Silky barked, bending a leg at the knee to rest his mint green clad arm over it. He was the pinnacle of relaxation, massive sunglasses under an equally large hat, light green velvet to match his jacket.

  The recruit had no idea how he could even see in those massive glasses in the dark, but questioning Silky’s fashion choices seemed like a step too far.

  “You.” Kerr sat back again, eyeing his eccentric superior. “I mean, how the hell does a pimp end up working for a demon hunting agency?”

  “It’s a long story, cracka,” Silky drawled. “We ain’t got time for that shit.”

  “Don’t have time?” The recruit scoffed. “We’re hiding in birdshit infested grass waiting for a bunch of frat boys to drink themselves to death. I think we’ve got time.”

  “Aight,” the pimp sighed, leaning his head right back in his chair. “You wanna know what Silky’s all about, wonder bread? Here you go. Silky’s a muthafuckin’ angel.”

  Kerr blinked at him. “What?”

  “Is you deaf or somethin’, boy? Silky said he’s an angel.”

  “A pimp angel.” The recruit rolled his eyes, and turned back to the grass, poking the binoculars back through. “Look, if you didn’t want to tell me your story, you could have just said that.”

  “Silky’s tellin’ the truth, muthafucka.” The pimp’s voice raised an octave at his subordinate’s attitude. “Silky’s been a top dog pimp for years, but he’s always encouraged his hos to use the money they be makin’ to better ‘emselves. Go to school, get ‘em an education and shit. Hos can’t fuck forever, ya dig.”

  “A pimp with a heart of gold,” Kerr joked.

  “Goddamn right, honky,” Silky snapped. “Now you gonna let Silky finish, or you gonna keep fuckin’ interruptin’?”

  “By all means, continue,” the recruit chuckled, and backed up through the grass. He turned and sat on his haunches as the pimp slid off of his beach chair.

  Silky grinned his golden toothy grin as he reached out and poked his pointer finger right into the middle of Kerr’s forehead. The younger man went crosseyed with curiosity as he t
ried to focus on the finger, and then the wind went out of him as his center of gravity pitched forward.

  Kerr blinked and realized they were standing in a massive hall, set up like a posh banquet but full of the sexiest and sluttiest women he’d ever seen. The color scheme was all deep crimson and gold, and tits, just tits everywhere.

  “What the-” he stammered, but was speechless as he realized there were two Silkys standing in front of him. One in the same peppermint getup as before, and another in a far more outlandish leopard print suit and coat, complete with a golden cane and a hat that had to be at least three feet in diameter.

  “As Silky was sayin’,” spearmint Silky said, and his doppleganger didn’t even notice his presence. Kerr’s lower lip moved up and down but no sound came out. What was happening? “About three years ago, Silky was hostin’ his annual Fuckin’ For A Future reunion dinner for all his former hos that made somethin’ of themselves.”

  That explained the sexy women everywhere. Some were sitting at tables, some were dancing on them. Some had a man or woman on their arm, others were grouped together, catching up. There were random men spattered about the group, clearly Johns that had been invited for the current hos to proposition. Ever the businessman, Silky was.

  Past Silky strutted up onto the stage, spotlight flashing off of his epic grill. He had a woman on either side of him, each in a long pastel elegant gown that would have looked like something out of a prom had there not been mounds of soft flesh bursting out of the extremely low necklines.

  Cheers erupted throughout the hall, and Kerr stared around wide eyed at the uproar. Everyone was hooting, hollering, up on their feet to applaud. This pimp had clearly made a difference to a lot of people.

  The on-stage Silky spread his arms, motioning for everyone to settle down. It took a good two minutes until everyone finally stopped whistling and took their seats again, giving him their undivided attention.

  “Ladies and gentle-hos,” he began, and a chuckle rippled through the crowd. “It’s damn good to have all’s y’all together again this year. My sweet ass Lola graduated from Nursin’ School with fuckin’ honors last month!” He clapped his hands and there was more thunderous applause. The woman to the left of him blushed hard and waved shyly to the audience, clearly not used to such praise.

  She turned and kissed Silky on the cheek, and he patted her backside lovingly. He turned back to the crowd, but as he opened his mouth to say more, there were two sharp cracks, and then all hell broke loose.

  Kerr had been so fixated on the show that he hadn’t noticed the man with the gun stand up from his table, and pop off two rounds directly into Silky’s chest. The hos on either side of him shrieked as he fell to his knees, looking down at the blood pouring from his heart in shock.

  In slow motion, people lunged forward on top of the gun man, but it was too late. The leopard clad pimp fell back onto the stage, the tears of his hos dripping down onto his lifeless face as they tried to rouse him back from the dead.

  The scene slowed down even further until it was completely frozen, and Kerr’s eyes darted around, his heart pounding. He nearly jumped out of his skin when minty Silky put a hand on his shoulder.

  “That cracka ass came in undercover, sent by a rival pimp to infiltrate Silky’s banquet.” He motioned to the guy that was flattened beneath a tableau of angry hos and their dates. “He wasn’t happy at the amount of his hos Silky had gotten out of the game and thinkin’ about them futures.”

  “Damn,” Kerr breathed, looking up at the anguished faces of the women frozen over Silky’s body. “You try to do the right thing.”

  “Damn is right, cracka,” the nostalgic pimp sighed. “Well, ole Silky was faced with a dilemma.” A bright light washed over the stage and a silver form materialized before their eyes, floating down to wash over the dead man.

  It slid over him, and the pimp let out a shocked gasp, crab walking backwards from the women over him that were frozen in time. He clutched at his chest that he remembered being full of bullets, and gazed open mouthed at the vaguely humanoid wisp floating above him.

  “Smoothen Silky,” an ethereal female voice floated down around the room, “you have changed many lives for the better in your short life.”

  “What in the fuckin’ shit is this?!” Silky exclaimed, and leapt to his feet, personality winning out over shock as he pointed at the wisp. “Silky just fuckin’ died, how the fuck is he still standin’?”

  The voice chuckled. “We want to offer you the chance to ascend to the heavens, Smoothen Silky,” it purred, and he pursed his lips.

  “Silky’s not too surprised he wasn’t endin’ up there in the first place,” he admitted. “But Silky ain’t no chump, what’s the catch, cloud lady?”

  “Help us with the war on demons, child, and you will live forever in the land of the angels,” the voice proclaimed, and he barked a laugh.

  “The war on fuckin’ demons?” He picked up his cane and struck a regal pose at center stage. “Silky was born for that shit.”

  The scene melted away and Kerr had that anti-gravity feeling before falling back into the grass. He blinked. The grass. They were back at the beach.

  “Understand, honky?” Silky leaned back in his chair once again.

  “Not really,” Kerr shook his head. “I mean you changing lives or not, why would they recruit a pimp?”

  “You a thick muthafucka sometimes,” the pimp sighed. “If you’s a demon and you make yo way up to this world from the depths of hell, what’s the first fuckin’ thing you gonna go lookin’ for?”

  The recruit screwed up his lips in thought. “Food?”

  “Hells, no!” Silky threw his hands up. “You’s gonna go lookin’ for a piece of ass! That’s why Silky was recruited. Cuz even up in heaven they know that Silky’s got the best pieces of ass in this world and the next.”

  Kerr rubbed his forehead in disbelief. “That’s… quite a story, man. Not sure if I really believe it all, but it is a hell of a story.”

  “Bitch, Silky showed you his fuckin’ memories, what more does ya need?” He humphed at Kerr’s shrug, and then lowered his sunglasses. “Believe this, cracka,” he said, and his eyes glowed into shining orbs of bright blue light.

  The recruit cried out, backing up a bit in the grass. “Alright, I’m with you,” he assured him, “just, ugh, stop doing that, it’s creepy.”

  “Aight, muthafucka, then get your snow white ass back to work here,” Silky’s eyes immediately lost the shine and fell back to their normal chocolate brown.

  Kerr gladly turned to look back through the grass, deciding not to ask any more questions for the moment. He’d bitten off more than he could chew with that one. Though a lot of things made more sense now, even with the fantastical story he’d just been told. He was hunting frat demons, so why was it so outlandish to think that there were pimp angels too?

  “I’ve got eyes on Trixie, she’s leading a frisky polo shirt down the beach,” Kerr reported, innately shuddering at his own stint wearing one of those atrocities.

  “That’s Silky’s fuckin’ cue.” The pimp stood up, flicking the chair expertly into a neat little package that he stowed away in his amazingly spacious jacket. He drew his golf club and motioned for his recruit to follow. “Rose’ll be finishing up the interrogation room, let’s skedaddle.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Trixie giggled as Roy tickled her ass while they crossed the threshold into the back of the beach house. Rose had procured this place for the night to interrogate their mark. Trixie whipped around and sashayed backwards through the sitting room, licking her lips as she went.

  “Slow down there, big boy,” she winked at him. “Let’s get inside my bedroom, first.”

  “Oh I plan on getting inside, alright.” Roy grabbed her wrists and pulled her flush against him. “Inside them pants. Whoo-haa.” He kissed down her throat, suckling at her collarbone, and she pushed at his chest.

  “Wow, you are a frisky one,” Trixie sai
d, laughing nervously as he held her in place.

  “Shut up, baby, you’re ruining the mood,” he said, voice hard, and wound a fist into her hair roughly. Warning bells went off in Trixie’s head, and she didn’t think that she was going to be able to get this guy back to the interrogation room before he overpowered her.

  She wriggled out of his grip, nearly managing to scurry away before he grabbed her bicep in a strong hand.

  “Where you going, baby?” Roy leered as he dragged her back against him. “I got what you need.” He lowered his mouth to her cheek and slid his hand down her hip, toying with the waistband of her shorts.