by Sa'id Salaam
“Nah, I’m a chill tonight. Next week, though, fo’ sho’,” he replied as Club Illusions popped back in his mind. Class cannot be purchased with money, but its twin imitation could be. Ju-baby planned to get him some classy clothes and one of those classy hos.
“Suit yo’self. I’m finna hit The Trap,” Wesley shot back. The partners exchanged a pound, and he set off to spread love and disease.
Chapter Eleven
“You go, girl!” Tasheena cheered at the pretty girl staring back at her in the mirror. She had to admit, she looked fierce in the knock-off tube dress she wore. Hell, she looked just like a movie star.
After a quick shower, minus the douche to keep Big Money’s little swimmers still swimming, she had squeezed into the tight little number. It graciously pushed the mounds of her plump titties out the top and threatened to show all her ass on the bottom. The dress had built-in contours that accentuated her already shapely shape, giving her an hourglass figure.
She went with a long, flowing brown wig that set off her hazel contacts covering her own eyes, which were only a shade away, but for some reason she inserted the contacts anyway. The panties full of crusted millionaire cum were placed in a plastic bag to be saved for a future paternity test.
“You are the father,” she giggled to her reflection as she added lipstick to go along with the eyes. Once her war paint was applied, she stepped into the high heels. She wobbled once before catching her balance for the rest of the night.
“Goodnight,” she replied to Tosha’s missed text. They had spoken earlier, and each had vowed to catch a movie on TV and get some rest. For Tasheena, that meant catching Big Money and having him all to herself. Her friend was in the way last night from her really being able to get down like she wanted to. She planned to unleash the freak in her tonight and make him fall in love with her.
Tasheena checked herself one last time before heading out the door and down to her piece of a car. It needed brakes, power steering, a window. Every week it needed something replaced or repaired. Little did she know it was by design, since she paid her mechanic Neil with sexual favors. He, in turn, made sure she had a reason to come back and see him on a regular.
“Please start,” she begged nicely once she was seated on the telephone book-filled seat. She eased the key into the ignition and gently turned it. The vehicle coughed, sneezed, sputtered, stuttered, but finally started. “Yes! Yes! Yes!”
Tasheena was no secret agent, but her car did have a smoke screen. The lack of power steering fluid contributed to her Angela Bassett triceps. Her squeaky brakes sounded like Neil had another blowjob coming his way. Even she hated to be seen in the hooptie, so she parked several blocks away and approached the club on foot.
“Damn,” she fussed, seeing the long line of ladies trying to get in free before eleven, although it was only a little after ten. Ironically, there wasn’t a single man in the line. To make matters worse, some blonde weave-wearing chick in line had on her same dress and shoes in white. As a matter of fact, she looked just like….
“Mm-hmm,” she hummed as she pulled her phone out and dialed Tosha’s number.
“Mmm. Hello?” Tosha answered in a husky voice as if she had just awoken. She even rubbed her eyes, like her best friend could see her, to add to the effect.
“Hey, girl, I ain’t wake you, did I?” Tasheena asked while creeping forward behind her as they spoke.
“Yeah, girl. My ass was knocked out,” Tosha replied quite convincingly. Had Tasheena not been two feet behind her, she would have believed her lie. Truth be told, they lied to one another’s faces on a regular basis, most times about fucking the same dude behind one another.
“Is that right? So you ain’t standing right in front of me outside the club?”
“Huh?” Tosha uttered, pausing to process the words she had just heard. She quickly spun around and came face to face with her friend. She still spoke into her phone, though, like they weren’t standing there eye to eye. “So? You said you was going to bed, too!”
“Girl, boo,” she huffed and hung up the phone.
“I know this chick ain’t hang up on me!” Tosha whined and prepared to call back.
“Girl,” she said, stopping the silly girl from dialing her number. “Anyway, Big Money called and asked me to come chill with him.”
“He did?” the naïve girl asked, pleadingly.
***
Breeze looked out at the long line and let out a huge sigh of relief. Last night was no fluke, and tonight should be a repeat. Actually, it would prove to be even better due to the priceless word of mouth advertising. People had so much fun the previous night they told other people, who came out to see for themselves.
Carlton’s words about breaking even had haunted him all day. It would take a month of nights like this to reach the black. Sunday’s jazz night and weekdays combined wouldn’t do what a Friday or Saturday would. He was truly living for the weekend.
Vita was sympathetic when he told her about his fears. She had laid his head on her thighs and ran her fingers across his waves as he spoke to soothe him. In the end, her suggestion was just as haunting.
“You could always make a few moves for extra cash,” she reasoned. “Plenty of ballers that was in the club last night use blow. You have the ideal spot for rich clientele.”
“Nah, no dope for me. No dope in the club,” he said, resisting the idea. He made it out, and he intended to stay out for good.
“Boss?” Coach called for the third time, pulling him back into the present.
“’Sup?” Breeze asked as he frowned at the intrusion upon his thoughts. Coach pointed with his head toward the line. He saw who he meant and approached.
“I come in peace,” DJ Rain Man said, holding his hands up in surrender. “Just came to show my support and apologize again for my behavior.”
“We good,” Breeze replied before calling security over. “Coach! Let him in as a guest.”
“That’s peace,” the DJ said with a sincere face. He shook Breeze’s hand and slithered on inside.
***
“Girl, we got ten minutes,” Tosha exclaimed when they finally made it inside. It was almost eleven, when the buy one, get one free drink specials would end.
Tonight’s special was Long Island Ice Tea made from super strong cheap liquor, which would ensure tipsy women when the big spenders arrived. Again, drunk women were more generous with their vagina, which was good for business. Just like a fisherman returns to a spot where fish are biting, men return to a club where girls are fucking.
Last night was a boon for freaks and hos. Out of the thousands who passed through, there were a couple hundred who hooked up. The majority were one-night stands, but there would be a few couples who emerged from last night’s coupling, along with a few baby mamas and baby daddies. There would also be those who would have to make a trip to the clinic.
“Two Long Islands,” Tasheena ordered once they pushed and shoved their way to the bar with only minutes left to spare. Pops smiled and nodded before turning to fetch the drinks.
“Thanks,” Tosha murmured, assuming one of the drinks was hers. Proving the old adage about assuming, because she made an ass of herself.
“Thanks, hell! Thems for me.” Her friend laughed as Pops returned with her drink order. She quickly slammed one back and planned to sip on the other.
“Two for me, too,” Tosha said, shaking her head. She ordered the same, prepared to do the same. They were early enough to get a table, so they did. It was close enough to V.I.P. to stalk its occupants to see Big Money when he arrived.
It was just after midnight when the ballers began to arrive. Breeze played the good host and came to meet and greet them as they filled the V.I.P. section. He then sat with Vita in their personal booth and sipped bubbly.
“Isn’t that your brother?” Vita asked as Ray-Ray stepped into V.I.P. with another man. To Breeze’s relief, they both looked quite dapper in slacks, shirts with ties, and loafers, although Ray
did still have on a gaudy diamond chain.
“Yup, yup. Him and Goldmouth,” he replied. She opened her mouth to ask about the strange name, but Goldmouth opened his first, answering the question before it could even be asked.
“Oh my,” she exclaimed at what appeared to be rows and rows of gold and diamond-encrusted teeth. He really needed a set of braces, but figured gold would be cooler. She thought he looked like a blinged-out shark with his big buck gold teeth.
“Meeka, send them a bottle of Dom on me, please,” he said when he caught her attention and called her over.
“Thanks, Breeze! Right away,” she cheered at the hundred-dollar tip he handed her.
“Thanks, Breeze. Right away, Breeze,” Vita mocked scornfully when Meeka took off to fill the order. “She ain’t slick!”
“She’s a baby,” Breeze reminded his woman, already knowing what she was hinting at. At twenty-one, he still viewed her as a child, not a woman. “Excuse me.”
“You’re excused,” she quipped to his back as he made his way over to his brother and friend’s table. He caught the tail end of Goldmouth’s statement.
“You can keep them pretty bitches and give me an ugly ho any day,” Goldmouth shot back animatedly.
“Ugly or pretty, it don’t matter to me as long as she thick! Give me a thick chick over… Oh, hey, big bruh,” Ray-Ray said when he saw his brother.
“What the hell are y’all over here talking ‘bout?” Breeze asked his brother once he released him from a bear hug.
“About who got the best pussy,” Goldmouth answered. “I’m tryna tell this nigga ugly girls do it better.”
“Fat gurls got that wet wet,” Ray-Ray cheered in response.
“Big girls do rock,” Breeze agreed with his younger brother.
“Nigga, you know you like ‘em ‘fisticated hos,” Ray-Ray said, using his own made up word. He actually had his own language, derived from variations of mispronounced words. Like “‘fose to” for “supposed to” and “‘rat dere” for “right there.” Luckily, his brother was fluent in Ray-Ray and understood what he was saying.
“Yes, I do like mine classy,” Breeze agreed as Meeka returned with the champagne.
“Shawty, we don’t drink that ‘fisticated stuff! Where dat yak?” Ray-Ray protested while devouring her with his eyes.
“Not tonight, lil’ bruh. Tonight you sip on grapes like the big dogs,” Breeze bribed. He knew what came along with a drunk Ray-Ray, and he didn’t want any part of it at his club. Ray looked around and noticed all the stars of rap, the silver screen, and the courts with buckets of bubbly.
“That’s what’s up,” he gave up and went back to the conversation.
“Them pretty hos be having too many rules when you fuck ‘em. Don’t put me in the buck, no back shots. Don’t mess up my hair….”
The three men all laughed and nodded in agreement at having dealt with the type. Meeka giggled under her breath in amusement as she filled their glasses. All eyes shot to her ass as it shifted from side to side as she made her departure.
“Spanish! You ever had some good Spanish pussy? Not from Mexico, but from Spain,” Goldmouth exclaimed.
“Fuck that, give me a hoodrat! A foul-mouthed, weed-smoking, liquor-dranking, panties and bras don’t match ho!” Ray-Ray said truthfully.
All heads again nodded for the ghetto girls. In the end, they agreed on big girls, ugly girls, skinny girls, and midget pussy. Albinos and Indians came in last, but ahead of ‘fisticated chicks.
“Well, gentlemen, enjoy yourselves,” Breeze said, excusing himself when he noticed Carlton approaching. As usual, Billie was rushing to keep up, but close behind nonetheless.
He stifled a smirk at how much more feminine Carlton walked than Billie. His walk was more fluid, with his hands swaying while hers were stiff and dorky. Even in the baggy men’s suit, he could tell she was shapely underneath.
“Congrats on what may be another successful night,” Carlton gushed and smiled, holding up a girly high five.
“Good job,” he replied toward Billie, pretending not to see his hand. Vita saw it from the booth and cracked up laughing until she saw Billie ducking and cheesing.
Carlton filled him in on the night’s events before heading back to work. Breeze turned and headed back to his booth and his woman. Vita twisted her lips and crossed her arms in greeting.
“She likes you,” she insisted before Breeze’s cheeks could touch the seat.
“Carlton? Nah, she just…”
“Not Carlton, silly,” Vita cracked up, despite fighting it. “I’m talking about Billie. She be acting all goofy when she’s around you.”
“I seriously doubt the girl even likes men,” Breeze pondered. Several male employees, as well as patrons, had seen past the nerdy façade and tried to holla at the pretty girl to no avail.
“Yes, she do. Trust me. A woman knows when another woman is interested in her man, and that girl is definitely interested in my man,” she insisted.
***
“Big Money,” Tasheena shouted when the ballplayer finally put in an appearance at Club Illusions. The girls had been dancing, but when she spotted him, she pushed Tosha down and took off toward him. Tosha popped right back up and was hot on her tail.
“Big Money! Big Money! Remember me? From last night?” she huffed, out of breath from sprinting across the club.
“And me?” Tosha shouted from behind her.
“’Sup?” The big man nodded and kept walking, heading into V.I.P. without them. Last night was just that: last night. The two girls were yesterday’s news. He was now in search of new vaginas to conquer.
“Ain’t that a…” Tasheena muttered in defeat. She still had his semen in her walls, as well as her preserved panties, so there was still hope.
“Come on, girl. There’s plenty of ballers up in here. One monkey don’t stop no show,” Tosha encouraged in an attempt to cheer her friend up. They slinked back to the dance floor to continue to shake their asses, hoping to get both some attention and a few free drinks. It didn’t take long before the two were noticed.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about ‘rat dere! Dem hos is ghetto as fuck,” Ray-Ray stated, seeing Tasheena and Tosha twerking on the dance floor. Tasheena’s dress rose up enough to show the bulls-eye tattoo she had on her ass cheek. It was for target practice if a man didn’t wear a condom.
“Yeah, they is,” Goldmouth concurred with a wide, gold-mouth grin.
“Can I get you guys anything else?” Meeka asked as she made her rounds. As usual, she had her trademark smile in place. She noticed the resemblance between Ray-Ray and his older brother and understood why he was given carte blanche.
“Yeah, you see them two hos twerking ‘rat dere?” Ray asked pointing toward the dance floor.
“The one in the orange?” she gasped, knowing who that was.
“Nah! That’s my mama. I’m talking ‘bout the ones in the white and black dresses.”
“Hell, yeah! Brang them hos up here!” Goldmouth ordered. Meeka pressed her lips together real tight to prevent what was on her mind from seeping out.
“Feel like I’m running a damn escort service,” Meeka grumbled to herself as she set off on her fifth ho delivery of the night. Last night’s total was ten, and she wonder how many tonight’s would be. Gonna start a company called Hos to Go, she chuckled inwardly.
Big Money had ordered a tableful of girls surrounding him in his booth. They were all giggling loudly, vying for his attention. Little did the girls know, it was all unnecessary, because he wanted to have sex with them all eventually.
“Excuse me,” Meeka called out to get Tasheena and Tosha’s attention on the dance floor. Her eyes opened wide in surprised when she realized that they were the same two girls from the night before who had left with the famous basketball player who was sitting in V.I.P. again tonight.
“Yes,” the two girls eagerly exclaimed, hoping to be delivered, and not in a spiritual sense of the word, either. Agai
n, Meeka thought Hos to Go.
“A couple of, um, gentlemen in V.I.P. have requested your…” was all the waitress got out before they took off, walking quickly toward the velvet rope separating V.I.P. from the common folk.
When Meeka made her delivery, Ray-Ray pulled Tasheena close to him, leaving Tosha for his partner, Goldmouth. The conversation ran the gamut of all things hood. Small talk served as foreplay before the main event. They let them suck down a few bottles of champagne before escorting them out of the club. Ray had rented a suite at an older Atlanta hotel that had seen better days. Twenty years ago, the hotel was the shit. Now it was just shit.
“Y’all help y’all selves,” Ray-Ray offered, nodding toward the green weed and white powder on the table. As usual, Tosha looked to Tasheena to see what she should do. When she leaned in and snorted a line, Tosha’s following ass was right behind her.
Drug dealers generally don’t use the drugs they deal. That is in direct violation of one of the ten crack commandments. It was actually commandment number four, never get high on your own supply. For a dealer to disregard this rule, he is either dumb, reckless, stupid, or Ray-Ray.
Ray-Ray was all of those plus a few more derogatory adjectives, probably because he smoked coke-laced blunts of super strong weed from the time he woke up until he went to sleep. His poor brain was stewed to a fricassee.
“I’m ready to fuck,” Ray announced when he felt his Viagra kick in. He took several a day to counteract the effects of using so much coke.
Tasheena giggled and waved at Tosha as he led her into one of the suites’ bedrooms. Tosha wasn’t attracted to Goldmouth in the least, but she still went with him into the other bedroom. This was one of the downsides to being a follower. She often found herself in situations she didn’t care to be in, and sometimes guys she didn’t care to be in her. Before they stripped down, she insisted on two things: he wore condoms and used back shots. She didn’t want to have to look at the huge gold nuggets hanging out of his mouth. Goldmouth settled for the run of the mill back shots and got his rocks off.