Chapter 3
A leader is admired, a boss is feared.
—Vicente del Bosque
“Anthony, what have I told you about touching the merchandise?”
Gene Hightower spoke with a cold tone, and the expression on his face was just as icy. His Dominican features fought against his black ones only to come out equally beautiful. Those very features gave his 58-year-old face a youth that would make one assume he was twenty years younger. His smooth, almond-colored skin always had a radiance to it, giving his handsome face even more allure. There was a flicker of annoyance in his light brown eyes, and three lines appeared on his forehead when he furrowed his brow. His bow-shaped lips were in a straight line as he thought about how he’d come home to relax, not punish.
He had just flown back into Miami after handling some business out of town, and the first place he stopped was the Bliss Lounge. The gentlemen’s club that he had built from the ground up was different from any other of its kind. It was much more than a strip club. It was a place of genuine business. Not only that, but in order to even think about walking up to the lounge’s door, one must have one of three member-status key cards. The memberships went from Silver to Gold to Black. Each membership came with its own bells and whistles, Silver being entry level and Black being the highest status reserved for the most elite members. Each month, members had to pay a monthly due, which they gladly obliged. Most frequented the club a few times a month, while some came every week, even members who didn’t stay in the state. It was a place where one’s wildest dreams could come true, and no secret would leave the walls. Gene’s motto was, “What is the point of doing business if it isn’t a pleasurable experience?”
It had come to Gene’s attention that in his absence, one of his workers had taken it upon himself to dabble in the club’s amenities. This was something that everyone who worked for him knew was strictly against policy. It was true that the Bliss Lounge had some of the most beautiful women in the nation, and that was why Gene had made sure to hire men who were not easily swayed by the allure of pussy. Or so he thought.
Before him sat a man he’d employed for the past year. Anthony was a dark-skinned brother, mid-30s, and muscular. He’d been hired as an extra security detail for the club, and up until then, he’d done a good job. That was why Gene had made the executive decision to let him off with a warning. They were alone in his office with two of Gene’s other workers, who were standing on either side of the door. Anthony sat across from Gene at his mahogany desk, trying to keep a blank expression on his face. But Gene saw past the facade. He could read the fear in Anthony’s eyes clear as day.
“What were the conditions upon which you were hired, Anthony?” Gene asked with a straight face.
“To protect your merchandise at all costs, sir,” replied Anthony.
“And what exactly is that merchandise?”
“This building, your money, the girls, and the drugs.”
“Exactly,” Gene said and held a finger up. “Now can you tell me the next clause in our agreement?”
“To not . . .” Anthony paused and cleared his throat. “To not dabble in the amenities, sir, especially when you are on the clock.”
“And do you care to explain to me what you have been doing? And before you even think to lie to me, you should know that just because the room isn’t finished, that doesn’t mean surveillance wasn’t already installed.”
Anthony didn’t answer. Instead, he turned his head and looked at the two men standing by the door. They paid him no mind. Their eyes were looking directly ahead at the wall behind Gene. Anthony swallowed and turned his attention back to his boss, but still, no words came from his mouth.
“What? Cat got your tongue?” Gene said with a chuckle. “No matter, I can recall your recent transgressions. You been digging your dick into Flare, our favorite redheaded gem, every chance you can get. Flare, who may I add, is an exclusive Black Card girl. Not only that, but I have witnessed with my own two eyes the both of you snorting the highest grade of cocaine Miami has to offer. My cocaine . . . which is also only available to Black Card members. Now riddle me this, my dear boy: do you have a Black Card? Because to my knowledge you aren’t even a member of the Bliss Lounge.”
“It won’t ever happen again, sir,” Anthony said and clasped his hands together. “She just kept coming on to me and . . . and . . . you’ve seen her!”
“And what do you think I should do about your disobedience?”
“I . . . it won’t ever happen again. I promise, sir. If you let me walk out of this room, I won’t even look Flare’s way again. Please.”
The way his voice shook as he spoke was proof that Gene’s reputation preceded him. If Anthony only knew that the things in the wind about Gene were the PG version of the truth, he would have soiled his pants. No, he would have never even looked Flare’s way, because he would know the nightmare sure to follow. Gene’s lips spread to a small smile, and he nodded slightly.
“I guess it works out for you that I’m in good spirits,” Gene said. “I’m willing to let you go with a warning.”
“Thank you, sir,” Anthony said and shook his clasped hands. “Thank you.”
“No thanks needed,” Gene said and opened one of the drawers to his desk. “Forgiveness is something I learned on a trip that I made to Japan a few years back. I learned to forgive, but only at the sincerest form of apology.”
From the drawer, he pulled out a small wooden board, and on it was a small knife. He tested the blade and, when he was satisfied with its sharpness, slid it and the board over to Anthony. Clasping his own hands, he took pleasure in the bewildered expression on Anthony’s face.
“Yubitsume,” Gene said simply. “A ritual to atone for your wrongdoings here, Anthony, and all will be forgiven. Your pinky will do just fine.”
“You want me to cut off my own finger?”
“Not all of it, just the part right above your knuckle there,” Gene said and pointed to it. “I am willing to let you walk out of here with your life and your job. But even warnings come with a punishment.”
Anthony knew that the man sitting before him was serious. He looked from Gene back to the men guarding the door and saw that there was no way out. He swallowed a big gulp of air because all the liquid in his mouth had dried up, and with a shaky hand, he picked up the knife. Placing his left hand with the palm down on the board, he positioned the knife over his pinky finger. The blade on the knife was so sharp that it instantly sliced his skin. Seeing the blood trickle slowly down his finger brought him to what he thought were his senses. He stopped abruptly and dropped the knife back on the board.
“No,” he said defiantly, pushing the board back to Gene. “This ain’t no old fucking Japanese movie. I’ll pay whatever debt you believe I owe you, but I’m not cutting off my own finger.”
Gene glanced down at the board that was now back in front of him. His eyes lingered on the few drops of Anthony’s blood as they seeped into the wood, leaving only a dark red stain behind. He felt nothing and everything at the same time at Anthony’s contempt.
“I have no use for someone who isn’t willing to cut off his finger to save his hand,” he said. “Maybe if you knew the price of your debt was your life, that small piece of your finger would be in front of me right now.”
He gestured his pointer finger slightly, giving the men behind Anthony a signal. Without further ado, they removed their guns and fired them as soon as they were aimed. The shocked expression was frozen on Anthony’s face when the back of his head was blown off, and his brain particles flew every which way.
“Ugh,” Gene scoffed and removed the handkerchief from his suit pocket. “I just got this desk. Could you have been less messy?”
“Sorry, boss.”
“No matter. This is exactly why I removed the carpet from my office. Cleaning the stains out of it was getting quite expensive. Get him out of here and clean up the mess,” Gene said, swiveling in his chair. “And when you’re
done send Flare to me. I have to give her the bad news. She’s fired.”
“Yes, sir,” one of them said to the back of his chair. Gene didn’t know which one, nor did he care. As long as they did as they were told.
His eyes found solace in the painting that was on the wall behind his desk. It was a custom piece he had painted of an above shot of the city of Miami. His city. He didn’t run it with an iron fist, nor was he a big drug lord. He ran it with the power of pussy. Gene knew that even the most powerful man in the world fell victim to the charm of women, and he used that to his advantage. The Bliss Lounge was what he called the “main office.” However, he had shops just like it set up all over the nation and was still expanding. He even had a traveling tour bus that frequented his first-class customers twice a year. He figured it was a way to pay homage for their loyal business. Why make them come to him when he could send the pleasure to them? Gene’s Girls, of course, were accompanied by the sharpest shooters he had to offer to ensure the safety of his commodities. Only his best girls were allowed to travel the tour under the supervision of his head girl, Lady Passion. She wasn’t his oldest girl, but she’d proven many times over to be the most loyal. He trusted her.
Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz!
The phone vibrating violently in his pocket snatched him from his thoughts. Behind him, he heard his workers still picking up brain particles and dragging Anthony’s body from his office. Gene took his cell phone from his pocket and answered immediately when he saw who was calling.
“Aria, is everything all right? It’s only one o’clock in the afternoon. This isn’t your usual check-in time.”
“I know, but I wanted to call and let you know what’s going on before we reach Detroit and one of your other employees tells you.”
“What happened?” Gene asked, sitting up a little straighter in his seat.
“Nothing bad. It’s just . . .” Aria paused as if she were trying to get the balls to spit it out. “It’s just I recruited another girl. She’s on the bus with us right now.”
“You recruited another girl without first consulting with me?”
“Yes. I found her at a gas station in Illinois. These men were trying to rape her, Gene. I couldn’t leave her there.”
“You’ve seen worse things than a girl about to be raped, Aria. What made you allow a complete stranger passage onto my tour bus?”
“She . . . she reminds me of myself, Gene. I saw myself when I looked into her eyes. I think it’s what you must have seen when you found me.”
“What is this girl’s name?”
“Belle.”
“Belle for beauty. Tell me, what does she look like?”
“Exactly like her name. Ten times beyond it if I’m being completely honest. I told her that she could work as a greeter until we get back to Miami. She doesn’t have anybody, Gene. Her entire family is dead. I just couldn’t leave her.”
“Aria—”
“You wanted to see me, sir?” a sweet voice interrupted him as he was talking.
Gene swiveled his chair back around and saw Flare standing in front of him, wearing nothing but a red sultry dominatrix outfit with tall stilettos. The red hair on her head was pulled up into a long, high ponytail, and even Gene had to admit that she was very tantalizing. Still, that would not give her vindication for what she had done. One of the same employees who had just done Anthony in was standing behind her, and he slowly shut the door to the office.
“Now that I think about it,” Gene said into the phone, “a slot just opened up. But we don’t need a greeter. If she isn’t entertaining, she has to go.”
He disconnected the phone before Aria could say another word, and he gave Flare his undivided attention. He observed as her eyes skimmed over his office and saw the traces of blood still there. He smiled at her when those same eyes found his own.
“Flare, tsk tsk,” he said. “You’ve been a very, very bad girl.”
Chapter 4
Life is a journey that must be traveled no matter how bad the roads and accommodations.
—Oliver Goldsmith
After spending a couple of days with the girls, Belle didn’t even want to drive her own car, and she was sure that Kidd didn’t mind it much. He was having a ball pushing her hemi engine to the edge, and she was having a ball getting to know the girls. Besides Aria and Luscious, there were Cream, Russian Roulette, Dynasty, Blessing, and Drip. Russian Roulette may have been the only white girl, but she definitely had the soul of a sister. Belle could tell Cream had a little temper on her. Whenever she got irritated, she would go off on a Spanish rant, and nobody could understand what she was saying. Dynasty kept to herself mostly, but that mainly had to do with the fact that the weed she smoked kept her pretty mellow. Blessing and Drip were sisters and were almost spitting images of each other. If you didn’t know they were two years apart, you would think they were twins.
Two days had passed since Aria had found Belle and since her conversation with Luscious. It was strange how two days could feel like an eternity. They had finally made it to Detroit, and the first thing on all of their minds was the mall.
“I need some new shoes!” Russian Roulette said as she sat on the floor, wearing nothing but a T-shirt. She had been going through her suitcase and turning her nose up at all of her items. “And, Drip, I ain’t letting you borrow no more of my shit! You never give it back. I have to buy new everything.”
“Girl, hush,” Drip said from where she was halfway off of the bed. Her long hair was folded on the ground, and she had her phone up in the air as she was scrolling through her social media feeds. “Can’t nobody take that little squeaky voice of yours serious.”
“I don’t know why you would want that shit back anyways. Her pussy juices done soiled the material by now,” Luscious commented from her favorite spot, the vanity.
“I can’t help it if money makes me cum,” Drip said and sat upright, running her hands through her hair. She rolled her eyes in Luscious’s direction. “You’re always jumping into something with your country ass.”
“I’d rather be from the country than from Wyoming,” Luscious threw back. “I didn’t even know there were black people there. You might as well be from Maine like Russian Roulette.”
“You know what? Just finish your makeup before I throw some pussy-juice panties at your face,” Drip said. They all laughed, including Belle.
“Y’all are too loud!” Dynasty’s groggy voice sounded from the bed and underneath the covers. “Some people are still trying to sleep.”
“Bitch, if you don’t get your high ass up . . . It’s one o’clock!” Luscious dropped the makeup brush from her hands and got up. She went over to the bed and snatched the cover back. “You, Blessing, and Cream need to wake up.”
“No,” Cream whined and tried to grab the comforter. “Five more minutes! Please!”
“How about no more minutes? I told your ass about drinking all that tequila last night.”
“It was my off day!” Cream whined again.
“Bitch, it was all of our off days!” Russian Roulette giggled. “You didn’t see any of us getting white girl wasted, no pun intended.”
“That’s because you are all some prude bitches,” Cream said and reluctantly sat up. Her shoulder-length hair was disheveled all over her head, and she rocked the puffy-lipped “just woke up” look as she glared around the room.
“I can’t believe you just called a bus full of strippers prudes,” Drip laughed and nudged Cream playfully with her toe. “She must still be drunk.”
“No, I’m not. I’m . . .” Cream paused and grabbed Drip’s whole foot in her hands. “Girl, is this my new Pink Volt nail polish?”
“No!” Drip said and snatched her foot back.
The guilty expression on her face let Belle know that she was lying. Cream knew it too, because the next words out of her mouth were all Spanish. Russian Roulette rolled her eyes and went back to sorting through her suitcase while Belle went back to observing her. Th
e only things she kept were her jeans and dressy blouses. Everything else she put to the side.
“Are you throwing that stuff away?” Belle asked, and Russian Roulette looked at her like she was crazy.
“Girl, hell no. We usually hit a laundromat every three days while we’re on the road. I honestly should have washed them at the hotel we stayed in last night. Some of these pieces cost a pretty penny, and one thing we don’t do here is throw away money.”
“Oh,” was all Belle said.
“You must have been one of them rich girls, huh? You come from a family with money, don’t you?”
“What?”
“I’m just saying. Most college girls can’t afford a 2018 Camaro, let alone be laced in designer clothes.”
“Oh. Yeah. My dad owned a large company. I don’t really know much about what he did. I just know he helped his clients invest large amounts of money into things that would make them even more money. And that made him money. Lots of it.”
“So how did you end up with only five hundred dollars to your name?”
“Russian!” Luscious’s voice sounded.
Belle looked up to see that the five other girls had eased their way to the edge of the bed and were giving her and Russian Roulette’s conversation their full attention.
“What? I’m just asking.”
“It’s okay,” Belle assured Luscious with a small smile and turned back to Russian Roulette. “My dad isn’t . . . wasn’t really my birth dad. He married my mom when I was five. He was killed before he added me or my mother to his will. I know it’s something he should have done a long time ago, but I’m sure he thought he had plenty of time to do so. All of his stuff, including the business, went to his older brother, my uncle.”
“And he didn’t give you a dime?”
“No,” Belle told them. “And I didn’t plan on sticking around to beg him for my father’s money.”
“He hasn’t called you since you’ve been gone?”
“Not once. But that doesn’t surprise me. He never liked me. Or my mother.”
Belle Page 4