by Noire
“Don’t you know all the bad stuff is happening out there?” Salida pointed toward the window as she went inside her desk drawer and came out with a small vial and a set of works. Ace and Nooni watched in silence as she cooked the crystals in a spoon and sucked the liquid up in a syringe.
“The cops are already looking for you because of that man you killed,” Salida reminded Nooni as she stood up and grabbed her trembling hand. She slapped up a vein in the crease of the young girl’s arm. “What do you think the police are going to do if they find out you were in the car with Truth when those bullets started flying? They’re gonna want to know who was shooting and why. They’re going to want to talk to you, Nooni. They’re going to take you in.”
Nooni’s eyes were wide as she stared at the syringe in Salida’s hand. She knew she was being elevated to the next level, and while the thought of getting on the needle scared the hell outta her, everything else about her life scared her even more.
She trembled as she held her arm out and allowed Salida to shoot a syringe full of liquid meth into her veins. Salida made soft, soothing noises as she pressed the plunger and flooded Nooni’s system with heat.
“There you go,” she cooed sweetly as Nooni sighed and relaxed. The young girl leaned forward and rested her cheek against Salida’s stomach like she was her mother. Above her, Salida wrinkled up her nose. The smell of fear, sweat, bloody gore, and unwashed ass came off Nooni in a thick wave, and as much as she wanted to push the girl away, Salida patted her back and stroked her hair instead.
She glared at Ace and craziness was all in her eyes. “Run downstairs and get Monique for me,” she demanded. “This here baby needs a bath. Tell Monique and Honey Dew to come get Nooni cleaned up so she can be fresh and ready for tonight.”
$$$$$
Pluto was on fire. His nephew was dead, and somebody was gonna have to pay.
“I’ma kill her. I swear to God I’ma smoke that hoe! That little bitch got my fuckin’ nephew slumped, man!”
Ace pushed back at him hard. “Yo, your nephew was aiding and abetting, P! That lil niggah was supposed to be working for us, but instead he was out there helping Nooni’s ass get gone. How you gon’ justify that shit, homey?”
There was no justification for Truth’s betrayal and Pluto knew it. It fucked him up that his sister’s baby boy had taken one to the noggin while helping their prized piece of property sneak out the back door, and the only thing he could figure was that the pussy musta got to him.
The boy’s nose musta been wide open on that young piece of ass he’d been snuggling up with every night. And as much as it hurt his heart to lose him, Pluto knew Truth had violated the most important law of a street niggah’s nature: never let pussy rule you.
But still. The boy had fucked up but that didn’t have nothing to do with him getting smoked. Whoever had popped him had disappeared down the crowded streets and gotten away, but the streets had a way of offering up what was due, and that was a fact.
Sooner or later, Pluto knew he’d find out whose finger had been on the trigger of the gat that killed his nephew. And when he did, chaos was gonna come to Harlem and the gutters would run red with that niggah’s blood.
“I feel you though, my dude,” Ace said sympathetically. “All this shit is Nooni’s fault.”
“Nah, it’s your fault!” Pluto shot back. “Who the fuck was supposed to be watchin’ her? That old bitch Salida got you so pussy-stumped you let the little mouse squeak right outta the goddamn trap!”
Ace eyed his boy evilly. His woman wasn’t gonna be too many more of Pluto’s bitches.
“Oh, so we back on that ol’ bullshit, huh? Every fuckin’ thing is Salida’s fault, right? Well suck my dick, niggah! Truth’s head getting split didn’t have shit to do with Salida!”
Pluto was just about to blast on him when his cell phone vibrated. He yanked it off his belt and saw he had a text message, and he couldn’t believe who the fuck it was from.
“Yo,” he said as he scrolled to open it. “Fuck that niggah Flex doin’ texting me, man?”
Ace waited impatiently while Pluto took forever to read the message. “What it say, P? What that lil niggah got to say?”
Pluto frowned.
“Flex said he’s turning in the G-Spot’s most wanted. He said Juicy’s back in Harlem and she’s riding with Cooter’s brother Trey. Flex don’t want our cash reward for the info, though.”
Ace frowned. Niggahs like Flex didn’t give up nothing for free. “Well what that fool want then?”
Pluto looked up from his phone and said quietly. “He wants some info. Since he’s giving us Juicy, he wants us to give up the name of G’s main drug connect.”
$$$$$
“If her little ass can run, she can dance,” Monique declared to Salida as she led a freshly washed and shampooed Nooni over to a glistening gold pole.
“Get your ass up here,” Monique demanded as she pulled Nooni onto the stage. “Hey,” she called out loudly, “lemme get some music!”
A hot, funky beat blared through the speakers and Monique shoved Nooni roughly into the pole.
“You ain’t no damn baby no more, so pay attention,” Mo ordered. “Do exactly what I do.”
Monique took a deep breath in, and exhaled it slowly through her nose.
“Close your eyes,” she said, flexing her waist as she bobbed slightly at the knees. “You feel that?” she asked. “Can you feel that beat?”
Nooni closed her eyes and let the music wash over her. She relaxed and let her body do what the drugs and the music was telling it to do.
“Yeah,” Monique said with approval. “Yeah, start right there.”
She watched as Nooni’s upper body started to coil and uncoil.
“Put some hips in it!” Monique ordered.
Nooni placed her palms on her thighs and started gyrating her sweet hips, kicking them out from side to side and pausing to put a little dip in the middle.
“Now flex your back. Curl it and pop it. Like a hot snake.”
For the next thirty minutes Monique taught Nooni how to make a man scream just by taking off her clothes. Nooni was a natural too. With her curvy young body, Puerto Rican hips, and bangin’ sistah-girl’s ass, she had it going on in several different directions at once.
Monique shared quite a few of her ill na-na moves with the young girl, and she was surprised at how quickly Nooni picked up on the concept as well as the moves themselves.
“The trick is,” Monique said, as she watched Nooni turn around and jiggle her blooming onion, “you gotta be feeling it ya damn self. You gotta be straight turning yourself on out there if you wanna get all them deep-pocket niggahs hot. I mean, your pussy gotta be straight dripping honey, baby. It’s gotta be hot and stankin’, cause once them freaks get one good whiff of it I guarantee you they will wanna taste it.”
Monique went on to teach Nooni how to pull herself up on a pole and spin around without looking stupid or breaking her neck, and she showed her some in-the-air splits and gyrations that never failed to have her customers hollering for more. Nooni was a little slower to learn the pole moves, but Monique was patient, and eventually the girl got to a point where she was looking pretty good.
Later that night, after Salida filled up her veins again, Nooni made her breakout appearance on the G-Spot’s stage. Under Monique’s watchful eye she got up there and pretended she was a slithering snake, swirling her hips like a hula dancer and stirring up a storm in them old men’s drawers.
She went through three whole numbers, and she remembered almost all the moves Monique had taught her, and when she forgot one she just shook her ass like she was cumming and that seemed to do the trick. The customers loved it as her young flesh wiggled deliciously under the hot lights, and cash money sailed through the air all around her.
Monique was up next, and Nooni knew she was supposed to get off the stage fast so she could clear out for the main event. Even though she’d done a damn good job, there wasn’
t no whole lot of clapping or fanfare when she finished because Monique was the show-stopper and Nooni’s little amateur routine was designed just to entice the crowd and warm shit up.
So as soon as her music stopped Nooni reached down and plucked up her bra, her shawl, and the ten and twenty dollar bills that were laying on the floor just like she’d seen all the other strippers do. And when she climbed down the stage steps she strode off into the crowd shaking her hips with mad sex-appeal and confidence, like all the other strippers did too.
But instead of jetting straight to the dressing room like the other strippers usually did, Nooni walked her ass right through the crowd and straight outta the front door.
Barefoot, and dressed in nothing but a thong and carrying her bra and a handful of cash, the young girl tied the shawl around her naked breasts, then fled tearfully toward the busy corner and flagged down the first bootleg taxicab that drove past.
CHAPTER 25
“Your useless ass has got to be retarded!” Salida exploded. Monique had just come off the stage after her stripper set clutching the twenties and fifties that had rained down and littered the floor. Salida had pulled her into G’s office and told her that Nooni was missing. The girl was nowhere to be found in the club, and nobody had seen her for the last thirty minutes.
Salida was on fire. “First you let Juicy get past you at the airport with all that goddamn money, and now Nooni’s ass done gave you the slip too?” She shot Monique a look of pure disgust. “I want you to explain how the hell you let that dumb little girl get out the goddamn door?”
They were alone in G’s office and Monique was fed the fuck up. A ball of hot anger rose up in her and she based so hard and loud that she caught both herself and the older woman by surprise.
“Me?” she screeched, sweating mad as she backed Salida down. “Me? I was up on the stage shaking my ass! How the fuck did you let Nooni get out the door?” Sliding her hand down in her purse and gripping her switchblade, Monique got up in Salida’s face and grilled her like she was just another slimy bitch out in the street.
“Bitch I’m tired of your fuckin’ ass!” she spit, coming outta her purse with her blade and pointing it dead at Salida’s nose. Rage had made Monique cross the line, and she was so hot she took it all the way. Dropping all that phony sweetness and fake-ass respect she had once shown G’s bitch, she twisted up her lips and blew some real shit all over the older woman.
“You know what? You ain’t shit, Salida! Every damn thing that goes wrong around here is somebody else’s fault! But you the one who came up in here throwing salt in everybody’s game and messing shit up! We shoulda left your fuckin’ ass in that nut house where G stashed you at because you are one trifling, crazy-ass bitch!”
Fire flashed in Salida’s eyes, but then just as quickly it simmered and died out again. She knew she was at a disadvantage with Mo’s knife stuck in her face, and instead of jumping bad or trying to find a weapon of her own, Salida took a deep breath and blew it out slowly.
“Okay,” she said and stepped off calmly as daggers continued to fly outta Mo’s storming eyes. “I’ll be that crazy bitch. But I tell you what, Monique.” Salida turned her back on the stripper and went to stand in front of G’s long mahogany-framed mirror. She smoothed a strand of her hair and adjusted her suit collar and gave it a little pop.
“There’s a big difference between crazy and stupid, baby. You see, crazy is a bitch like me who took a bright idea and made it a half-a-million dollar reality. Stupid is a hussy like you whose only reality lives in her gutted-out pussy.”
It was all Monique could do to stop herself from running across the room and plunging her knife into Salida’s treacherous back. She wanted to stab that old bitch a million times, the same way she believed Salida had back-stabbed her.
But Mo didn’t. Because as mad as she was, she was still street-smart enough to sense the truth of Salida’s words. Salida had gotten outta the crazy house and commenced to making big moves, while Monique had been slaving away in the G-Spot for years, and the only moves she had made had been with her hips.
The realization that Salida was right and that she had wasted so much time conniving and tryna get ahead but had still ended up without a goddamn thing was a deep blow to Monique’s gut. All the fight went outta her and she dropped her knife back into her purse and turned away.
“You better stay the fuck off my back, Mizz Salida,” she said as she yanked open the office door. “I did everything you told me to do, and you still fuckin’ with me. Just stay the fuck off my back!”
Monique stomped out the door and slammed it as hard as she could. She was so mad that she didn’t even hear the loud crack the wooden door made as it collided with its frame. She didn’t hear the loud cackle of laughter that erupted from Salida’s crazy lips neither.
CHAPTER 26
Rita was watching little Chub and her friends pin the tail on a donkey when, for the second time in less than a year, she opened her door to a half-naked, beaten down girl who had ran up outta the G-Spot.
“Nooni!” she screamed and pulled the shivering teenager through the door. The girl was hysterical. Her eyes were bloodshot from crying, and she was shaking like a leaf.
“Lock the door!” Nooni shrieked as she jerked out of her sister’s arms. She pushed the door closed quickly, and then flipped the three heavy deadbolts until the tumbler slammed in the lock.
Dropping her bra on the floor, Nooni ran over to the windows and pulled down the blinds and closed all the curtains. Her eyes darted toward the kitchen, and she skirted inside and pulled two butcher knives from the rack sitting on the counter before shrugging the shawl off her shoulders and glancing around uncontrollably.
“I’ll kill those mothafuckas!” she gripped the butcher knives and threatened, wild-eyed and wearing only a thong. “I’ll kill all of them!”
“It’s okay, Nooni,” Rita whispered, not wanting to alarm the three little girls who were playing in the back room. She grabbed Nooni’s wrists and gently urged her to put the knives down and then took her into her arms. “It’s okay,” she said, sinking down to the floor and holding the girl like she was a baby. “You’re safe now, chica. Nobody’s going to hurt you. You don’t need any knives. You’re safe.”
Nooni huddled in her big sister’s arms, weeping like the child she was. She had been so fast and grown and hot in the ass that she had never considered how cold the world could be beyond the safety of her family’s front door.
“I’m sorry.” Nooni clung to Rita and whispered through her tears. She was ashamed of all the foul, dirty shit she had participated in. From faking her own kidnapping to helping lure her sister and Juicy into a money trap. “I’m sorry for everything, Rita,” she moaned, meaning it from the bottom of her tender heart. “I swear I’m sorry.”
Rita consoled the girl the best she could. She was so happy to see her little sister alive that she didn’t even try to hold back her own tears. She just let them flow unchecked.
“It’s okay,” she whispered, rocking her little sister back and forth. “It’s over. You’re home now, and you’re safe.”
$$$$$
While Nooni was safe at home with her family, somebody else’s child was about to take a ride with a stranger.
Pooch Johnson hated kids. It was just after two p.m. when he drove his big yellow school bus out of the yard where the large fleet was parked. His suburban New York route was one of the most sought-after in the Mount Vernon school district, but dressing up in a blue uniform and driving a bunch of hyped-up preschool brats irked the shit out of him every day.
Pooch pushed his tiny speaker plugs deep in his ear canal so he could listen to some tracks on his way to pick up the kids. Listening to music while driving was against the bus driver safety rules, but fuck all that. If he didn’t have his sounds he wouldn’t make it two blocks without tossing some of them whining-ass kids out the window.
He scrolled through the songs on his iPod and turned the music up
as loud as it would go as he pushed the school bus down the road and headed toward the preschool he was assigned to.
He had just made a right turn and was taking his usual short-cut through an abandoned industrial park when a man staggered out of the woods and ran directly in front of his bus.
Pooch slammed on the brakes and the tires squealed loudly as they fought to grip the pavement.
“Oh, shit!” Pooch put the bus in park and ripped his ear-plugs out and flung his iPod to the floor. He stood up and peered outta the window and over the nose of the bus. Dude musta been laying under the front end, even though Pooch coulda sworn he’d braked in time to miss hitting him.
“What the fuck?” he hollered as he released the hydraulic lever and opened the door. He went down the steps in one big leap and ran around the front of his bus with his heart beating like a hammer in his chest.
“Why the hell you run out in front of me, you fuckin’ fool?” he screamed on the downed man. He glanced around at the empty, deserted road. “And where the fuck did you come from?”
Pooch crouched down beside the still man and trembled. “Ah, shit!” Hitting a pedestrian would automatically get a niggah fired. What was wrong with this fool? Wasn’t even shit out here! No houses, no cars, no nothing!
“Yo, you okay?” he asked, touching the man’s shoulder. Dude looked like he was in his late twenties, and he was dressed in sweat pants and a dark hoody.
“Yo, muh’fucka!” Pooch shook him a little bit more and frowned. “Wake ya stupid ass up! That’s what you get for running out in front of me! I couldn’ta hit you that bad anyway. I barely fuckin’ touched you!”
Pooch reached out to shake the man one more time, and that’s when dude got him.
“Be easy, muh’fucka,” the downed man said, yoking Pooch around his neck and pressing the cold barrel of a Glock under his chin at the same time. The so-called “hit” pedestrian flipped Pooch over on the ground, then stood up and put his foot on the school bus driver’s heaving chest as he held him at gunpoint.