No Love for the Wicked

by Tiana Laveen

  “That’s just meltin’ ice,” one guy retorted, despite the fact that the car was dry everywhere else underneath. I’m not dealing with the sharpest knife in the fuckin’ drawer I see…

  “Nah, sniff it,” Angelo persisted, waved his hand in front of the man’s face so he could get a whiff.

  “Shit. It is.” And off the fella went. Alibi established.

  Soon, the crowd around him thinned out sufficiently, while he continued on with his ruse. In typical fashion, no one was concerned enough to elicit help, or alert a fellow man. He pulled his toy from his jacket pocket, a white yo-yo, and began to fling it back and forth as he navigated towards the driver’s side. No one was paying much attention to him at all. Allowing the yo-yo to fall to the ground, he sneaked out a thin piece of metal from the tote and got the door open with a few good maneuvers of the makeshift tool.

  Once inside, he positioned himself low in the driver’s seat, unwrapped the string from around the yo-yo, and began to cut, tie, and yank with only the blinking lights of a Marlboro billboard aiding him. Soon, he was drenched in sweat. He hadn’t done such work in years, but some skills you simply never forget. When he was all done, he quickly checked his watch. Finished in just under three minutes. That might be a new record.

  Leaping out the car, he pointed out the gasoline ‘issue’ to another passerby to help spread the rumor around, and keep the immediate area less congested, then made his way back across the street, cleaning his hands with a damp soapy cloth he’d brought with him. Leaning against the iron bars protecting the glass wall of a closed instrument shop, he searched for a shield, someone who would help him blend in.

  “Hey, foxy, what’s shakin’?” He grinned wide at a tall, long-haired blonde making her way towards him.

  They engaged in a bit of conversation. The red-nosed young woman was desperate to sell her beaver for a buck. He pulled her arm, bringing her closer, guiding her in just the right way to help block him from being made. She kept right on yammering while out the corner of his eye, he noticed the old theater doors swinging open and closed. The big players in the life were being entertained and making bets, entering and exiting the establishment, which was now used for bookmaking, prostitution rings, freaky private dance shows, and drug dealing.

  “So, is it a deal or what?” she noisily chewed on a wad of pink gum. “Five for head, ten for bangin’. If ya got a big cock, it’s fifteen. You look like ya might have a big cock.” She winked, looked at his hands, then down at his shoes. The woman with the dead blue eyes finally gave a hard stare at his crotch.

  “Seems to me I’d deserve a discount, not an upcharge. How about up the ass?” He glanced down at the dusty rose roller skates and silky white short shorts she had on this freezing night, and shook his head.

  “That’s thirty-five. No negotiations.”

  “Thirty-five? Nah, I can—” Just then, William and a few of his lackeys exited the spot. “Not interested.”

  “You’re one of those freaks, aren’t cha?” she mocked while popping her gum and blowing big pink bubbles in his face. “What? Ya wanna piss on me? Want me to piss on you? I’ll do it if the price is right.” She showed her teeth.

  “Using you like a urinal isn’t my cup of whiskey. I get off on women walkin’ away. Love to see ya leave. Get the hell out of my face, and get your hot ass home.”

  “You asshole. You wasted my fucking time. And I don’t have a home!” She flipped him off. William was talking with a few guys on the sidewalk. She turned to walk away.

  “Stay put.” He jammed his hand in his pocket, pulled out a little cash and crammed it in her hand.

  “I don’t waste time. You did exactly what I needed you to do. You served your purpose, now leave.”

  She looked rather bewildered, yet strangely satisfied. She loitered a bit longer, counted the money, and sauntered off, glancing back at him every now and again. The back door of the gold ride was now open and William got inside, a black hat on his huge bald head. Soon after, he was joined by two other men, one of whom was the driver. The car pulled away from the curb and as soon as he stepped on the gas, the whole street was aglow.

  Bright lights. City lights. Sir William had to die tonight…

  People screamed and scattered in a panic as he casually walked up the sidewalk, leaving the big ball of fire behind him. He strolled for at least ten minutes, with not a care in the world. The notes of ‘Good Times,’ by Chic, drifted from a passing car. He lit a cigarette, then saddled up to a payphone.

  “Hello, who tha hell is it?” He recognized that voice, and it sure as hell wasn’t Tony.

  “Hey Lou, it’s Casper. I need to speak to Tony.” Lou was Tony’s personal assistant of sorts.

  “Heeey, Casper! How ya doin’?”

  “I’m fine, Lou.”

  “Tony stepped out. He’ll be back in about ten minutes. You wanna leave a message?”

  “I sure do. Tell him that I Johnny Cashed Sir William. The ride is over. Tell ’em that I created an alibi for the police, but in our circle, the story will be different. Tell him to give credit to the Barker Boys.” He paused, watching the smoke float up and dissipate. “Tell ’em I don’t need any accolades, acknowledgement, or attention. It ends with the ring of fire. I’m gonna keep on steppin’… He’ll know what that means. Also, tell him he’s a stand-up guy, a damn good friend despite us occasionally being in competition for gigs over the years. And tell him… tell him that I’ll see him on the flipside.”

  He hung up the phone, stared at the receiver for a long while, then exited the phone booth, surrounded in smoky haze.

  As he took steady steps, a car drove past blasting KC and the Sunshine Band’s, ‘I’m Your Boogie Man.’ He began to sing the lyrics, snapping his fingers to the beat, and did a 360-degree turn, busting a dance move. Smiling big, he relished the cool air hitting his face. As the music faded, he removed the fake scruffy beard and wig, tossed them, then the yo-yo, in a trashcan. He walked a few more blocks, bathed in bright lights while the sounds of stilted orgasms, drunken arguments, and joyous laughter surrounded him. Slipping into a rundown hotel, he quickly changed his clothing in the dull lobby restroom. He threw the tote bag in the trash, then beat a path back to the subway, eager to make up with his baby and reassure her that all was well.

  Andrea, I’m on my way. I told you I’d be back.

  I always keep my word.

  …A few weeks later

  Andrea held the album up, blew on it, then placed it on the record player. After a brief staticky noise, the seductive declarations of Prince broke through in his high-pitched, sexy, thunderous voice. ‘I Wanna Be Your Lover’ had her dancing to the groove around all the packing boxes. She’d begun gathering her belongings for a move to a beautiful, spacious, bi-level apartment she’d be sharing with her man in Forest Hills, Queens. Angelo wanted to get away, start fresh, but not abandon their roots. She’d never lived in Queens before, and had some reservations, but several of her friends assured her that though it was a little different from Brooklyn and Harlem, the only two boroughs she’d ever lived in, it was much safer, and a good spot to raise a family. Angelo had rented a unit for his grandmother, right up the tree-lined street. She even had a little balcony now and a place to plant flowers. Things were finally falling into place.

  “Hey.” Angelo walked out into her living room, naked as a jaybird and dripping wet from head to toe. “I need a towel.”

  “Angelo! You’re dripping water all over the place!”

  “Yeah… not having a towel kind of causes that… Owww!” She bopped the smart aleck on the arm as she marched past to the hall closet to get what he needed. When she returned with her favorite bright yellow towel, she found Angelo dancing and being silly. Before she could make fun of him, he chased her around the room, making gorilla noises and beating his hairy chest.

  “Ahhh!” She dropped the towel and raced around, her purple and green paisley bellbottom pants almost her undoing when she tripped on the hem
and tumbled over the couch. He lunged after her, only for her to slip away into the kitchen. Bad move. Black hair slicked away from his forehead, brandishing those killer blue eyes and that devastating smirk, he closed in on her. Big dick just swinging.

  “You’re cornered.”

  “Don’t you touch me!” She searched frantically for something to defend herself with, settling on the closest thing next to her. A damn slotted spoon. She waved it about like a sword.

  “What are ya going to do with that? Turn me into pasta and strain me? Come ’ere!” He grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her over his shoulder. She kicked and screamed, but Prince didn’t care; he just went on to serenade the next song, ‘Why You Wanna Treat Me So Bad?’

  “Put me down, Angelo! What do you want?” She almost choked on her spit, she was laughing so hard. He ran around the apartment with her, pausing only to make ape noises and hit his chest with one fist to the beat of the music. What a nut!

  “Pussy pussy pussy! Me Want Pussy!”

  She kicked her legs around, punching his back playfully until at last, he pinned her against the wall. The big, tall, sexy beast of a man let her slide slowly down, then claimed her lips in a slow kiss. He trailed kisses down her neck and shoulder, his damp hair tickling her skin. Dropping to his knees, he pulled her pants down to her ankles as he looked longingly into her eyes. He caressed her downy pubic hair with deft fingers, then buried his face between her thighs, inhaling deeply, as if she were the finest bottle of perfume he’d ever seen.

  “Oh, God.” She hissed when his hot tongue lapped at her heated flesh, at her pussy, the long, pink tender muscle tracing up and down the delicate folds of her love. She grabbed his head, pushing him impossibly closer to her needy clit. “Yes! Eat my pussy, baby!”

  He grabbed her thighs, his thumb digging into her flesh as he held on tight and made a buffet of her peach. Raking blood red nails through his hair, she teetered on the brink of a watery explosion.

  “Uh! Oh, shit! Oh shit, baby! Angelo! I’m cumming!” She trembled as he slid his mouth back and forth against her clit, rapidly flicking his tongue at each pass. The sound of his feasting and her uncontrolled wails of ecstasy competed against Prince’s voice – the lyrics of heartbreak and pleasure mingling together. When she was barely able to stand on her feet, he slowly stood and drove himself deep within her with a throaty growl. His gaze never left hers. Her pussy pulsed and grabbed onto the generous length of him. He thrust in and out, around and around, twisting and turning, taking her to levels never before reached. Resting his arms against the wall, his elbows on either side of her head, he kept staring into her eyes, his love for her pouring out with each ruthless, deep plunge.

  “You’re so wet for me, baby.”

  She stirred from his words. “That feels so good, Angelo. You know just what I need,” she purred, an aftershock of her orgasm making her tremble. He gripped her left ass cheek and pulled her closer. Back and forth they went, fucking slow and easy. His gaze lowered to her lips and as she closed her eyes, quaking with anticipation, he slipped his hot tongue within her mouth, pushing it in and out with the same rhythm and speed of his big dick.

  Soft lips trailed down her chin, landing on her neck, then her collarbone. That’s my spot… he knows that’s my spot! Her eyes rolled as he held her tight, lunging more forcefully inside her, driving her body up and down the wall. She wrapped her arms around him, hands along the back of his neck as they engaged in a kiss. She swayed to his rhythm, grinding against him, welcoming his plunges, ready to receive and release him back into her ocean. His pace increased, his look of love turned dark and demanding, and his groans richer and deeper…

  “I love every inch of you… You really turn me on, baby. I love your big, soft tits, your lips, beautiful smooth skin, the curl of your hair, up top and down there… and this tight pussy of yours.” The sexy words that came out of his beautiful mouth made her shudder. His head lolled back and she stared at his Adam’s apple, overdosing on his masculinity and the way he turned her into his most prized possession up against that cold, wood-paneled wall. As he deepened his love, she found herself pushing forward, resting her forehead along his shoulder blade close to the fresh scar, holding on tight.

  “Andrea!”

  Her pussy pulsed at the way he called out her name, sending her into a climax. As she reached her apex, he broke free, crashing into her hard as he roared. Warm juice filled her snatch but he kept going until there was not a drop left to spare. Sliding out of her, he placed a gentle, loving kiss on her cheek, then headed to the bathroom, without another word. She stood there for a while, her pussy hot and throbbing, leaking his love. Resting her shoulder on the wall, she touched her lips, still feeling the heat of his kiss, then followed him into the restroom to the tune of Prince’s, ‘Sexy Dancer.’

  They smiled at one another, while she turned on the bathtub, allowing the water to fill.

  “I’m gonna take a bath. You wanna watch a movie tonight, Angelo? I have the new TV Guide.”

  “All right. Yeah, fantastic.” He grabbed his spare toothbrush that he now kept at her place and brushed his teeth. A little toothpaste landed on his mustache. She pointed to it with a grin, so he licked it away, spit it out, then blew her a kiss. She hummed while pouring bubble bath into the water. Gathering a fresh bar of soap and washcloth, she settled into the bathtub while he went to the bedroom and got dressed. She was still sitting in the water, humming to the music playing in the living room, when he re-entered a few minutes later.

  “Hey, baby.” He waved around a bottle of wine. “You’re out of Night Train.”

  “Oh. Is the new bottle of Blue Nun gone, too?”

  “Yeah. We finished that a few days ago. I’m going down the street to grab us a bottle of something good, and some snacks, too.”

  “Okay, baby.” He kissed the top of her head, then left out the restroom.

  “You want anything specific?” he called out from the living room.

  “Um, now that you mention it, if they’ve got any of those fruit cups I like, you know the ones, please grab a couple for me. I can eat one tonight and the other for breakfast in the morning.”

  “You bet. I’ll grab a carton of eggs and some cornflakes for breakfast, too. I have the meeting with that Mr. Hopkins, the guy I told ya about.”

  “Oh yeah!” She turned on the hot water to warm it up a little more, then built up a nice lather by rubbing the soap on the wet cloth. “About the land for a range in Queens, right?” she called out over the music and gushing water.

  “Yes. The building is already there. Needs a little work, but there’s plenty of acreage, and we’re negotiating a price. I told him I plan to train a few guys myself and have it really top-notch. We’re talkin’ by appointment only, vending machines, fresh hot coffee, spic and span at all times, good target boards, the works. No horsin’ around.”

  “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.” She smiled proudly. How could she not be? She turned off the water.

  “I’m headin’ out, Andrea. I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

  “Okay, baby!”

  She soon heard him close and lock the door. After spending a few more minutes in the tub, she rinsed off and dried herself. Wrapping the blue towel around her body, she made her way to the living room and put on a new record, ‘Girlfriend,’ from Michael Jackson. One of her favorite songs.

  “Giiiirlfriend!” she sang along, swinging her hips to the tune. She slipped on a sexy black negligee, brushed her damp hair and arranged it into a sloppy ponytail, then applied cherry lip-gloss on her lips. Then, she plopped on the bed, ready to browse through The Good Housekeeping magazine she’d grabbed from the dresser. After a short while, she heard a clicking noise, like a key turning in the door.

  “Don’t tell me.” She giggled. “You forgot your wallet!”

  No response.

  Slow, heavy footsteps approached.

  Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Her heart b
egan to race. She knew how her lover moved, how Angelo walked, how he breathed.

  “Angelo?”

  No answer…

  “AHHHHH!” She shrieked when a hulking man with short blonde hair and a scruffy beard appeared by her bedroom door. His round stomach poked from under his shirt, and the evil in his eyes was like nothing she’d ever seen.

  Shit! She quickly reached for the dresser drawer, pulling it out so fast it nearly fell out.

  EMPTY.

  “Lookin’ for this?” the man asked in a monotone voice. He laughed when he spun her gun around on his finger, then opened the chamber, allowing the bullets to fall to the floor. Plop, plop, plop, plop.

  “STAY AWAY FROM ME!” She got on her knees in the bed and began to toss items at him as fast and hard as she could.

  “You bitch!” he yelled when the lamp flew across the room, slapping him in the eye. She made her move to race past him out the door but he caught her, looping his beefy arm around her neck and pulling her flush to his body. He dragged her back from the door. She tore at his arm, gasping, desperate for air. “Did you miss me?! I had to take a little time off!” He tossed her on the bed like a ragdoll. “I was in jail. My wife got the police involved, but nobody tells me where to go, and nobody can stop me from doing what I want. Like seeing my own fucking family! Just got out a couple of weeks ago and made a copy of your keys while I had the chance. I’m ready now. Let the real games begin.”

  “What do you want?!” She crawled up the bed towards the headboard, putting as much room between them as possible.

  “You’re the fucking psychic who told my wife to leave me!” It took a moment but then it came to her. A young lady had come to her about nine or ten months ago stating her husband was insane, and had begun beating her. She saw the bruises with her own eyes. “She came to you for one of those ridiculous, fake readings of yours, asked for some advice, and you told her she had to leave me! I guess after that, she plotted for a couple of months. Then, one day, she wiped out the damn bank account, took the kids and left! I couldn’t find her for weeks! Now she’s moved back to Florida and filed for divorce. YOU RUINED MY FUCKING LIFE!” he yelled so loud, her ears rang. “YOU’RE GONNA DIE, YOU BLACK BITCH!”