The Pink Palace

by Marlon McCaulsky

  “Yeah, okay.”

  Oh my God, what if she’s right? What if Tommy doesn’t come back? All this time I’ve been worried about him getting killed, I never thought about what I’d do if he just decided to stay up there. Who am I kidding? I’m not that important to him. I’m just some ho working at a strip club. Welcome back to reality, Mo’Nique.

  After Nikki goes on stage, I decide to do a couple of table dances. There are a few regulars in the club tonight. My main inhouse trick, Mike, a.k.a. Snaggle Puss, is on the couch with his boys, Lew and Pat. They call themselves the Royal Blue Crew for some reason. I really don’t care why they call themselves that. All I know is that they are some big ballers that tip well.

  “What’s up, Snaggle? What you in the mood for tonight?” I teasingly ask him.

  “Oh, you know what I want, shorty. I been dying to see you again,” Mike says as he pulls out a fifty.

  “I know. You gonna tell me why they call you Snaggle Puss tonight?”

  “I can show you better than I can tell you. . . . oh, shit,” Mike says as I turn around and show him my fat ass in my red thong.

  “I bet you can.”

  “You see, that’s why I can’t get enough of you, Mo’Nique. Damn.” Mike and his crew are awestruck by the way I roll my ass and grind my waist to the beat.

  T-Pain’s “I’m N Love Wit A Stripper” bumps over the loudspeakers. I arch my back and pop my ass like a freak in heat until I have them all coming out the nose with money. I undo the straps of my bikini and let my top fall slowly. First my right nipple says peek-a-boo, and then my left does the same, as Mike’s tongue hangs out of his face like a dog’s. Pretty soon, I see a hundred dollar bill being stuffed in my thong as Mike’s fingers try to get a free sample of my goodies. I turn around just in time, pulling his finger out and leaving the money in. Now I see why they call him Snaggle Puss, sneaky mutherfucka!

  By the time the song ends, I get at least $1,100 out of the Royal Blue Crew. “Thank you, boys,” I say as I walk away.

  “Damn, she the finest girl up in here,” I hear Mike tell his boys. Maybe I should just forget about Tommy and go back to hustling these tricks like Nikki said I should do. It’s pretty obvious Tommy’s forgotten about me. I go back to the dressing room and open my locker. My Helio buzzes with a new text message:

  Hey, just wanted you 2 know that I miss U and I’m gonna be back soon. I can’t stop thinking about you.

  Luv U.

  -Tommy

  Damn, just when I thought it was all a fluke, he goes and does this. I can’t stop smiling. After I get his message, I leave the club and go home. Besides, I already made enough for the night. I’m gonna send Tommy some naked pictures of me. I’m gonna remind him of what he’s missing down here so that he’ll hurry back.

  4

  Deep cover

  Jamaica, Queens, New York

  JAYSON

  This is my first time in New York. Damien and I arrive at 5 p.m. and take a taxi to King’s home in Jamaica, Queens. His place is more like a mansion than a house. Damien tells me that he paid seven million for the estate.

  King’s rise to the top of New York’s drug dealer food chain is nothing short of remarkable. He gave “hostile takeover” a new meaning by the way he locked things down when he got out of prison in ’97.

  As we pull into the white mansion’s circular driveway, all I can think about is how nobody’s ever been this deep before. Damien and I knock on the door, and a maid comes to show us in. This cat has money for real.

  “Hey, Dame, so how much is it all worth?”

  “What do you mean?” he looks at me and asks.

  “The empire,” I clarify.

  “Hmmm, roughly about seventy mil,” he says.

  “Damn, I can dig that,” I say as we walk through the marble foyer.

  We enter into King’s huge living room. It’s decorated in hardwood with handmade tables and chairs that look too expensive to sit in. We walk through two double doors and into another big room, where we see Dwayne “King” Smith sitting on a huge black leather sofa. He’s watching the Knicks play the Spurs on a Samsung 50-inch widescreen plasma TV. King is a light-skinned nigga with a freshly shaven fade. He holds a blunt in his hands.

  “What’s up, my nigga?” King says to Damien as he gets up off the sofa and gives him a man-hug.

  “What’s up, King?” Damien says.

  “You looking sharp, nigga,” King remarks.

  “You know how I do. Yo, this is my man, Tommy Holloway,” Damien says.

  “So, you’re Tommy? I heard good things about ya, man,” King says.

  “I heard the same about you,” I reply.

  “Damien says you a real thoroughbred nigga. You saved Dame’s life.”

  “I just did what I had to do.”

  “You know, we don’t really fuck with niggas we don’t know, but if Dame says you down, that carries weight,” King says.

  “Damien says that you’re the one to be down with to make this money,” I say.

  “Well, look around. What do you think?” King asks me.

  “I think you doing major things,” I tell him.

  “So how’s the spot down there?” King asks Dame.

  “Yo, it’s nonstop, my nigga,” Damien reveals.

  King walks back to the sofa and sits down. “Sit down,” King tells us. We sit on the sofa. King takes a puff off his blunt and then passes it to Damien.

  “So, you know this deal I got working on with these cats out in L.A. is gonna make us a huge amount of money,” King tells us.

  Damien passes the blunt to me. “That sounds good, nigga,” Damien says.

  “What about the police and the ATF?” I ask him.

  King chuckles and looks at me. “Damien was right; you do think ahead. We got the police in our back pocket. Let’s just say that there are certain high-ranking officers and prosecutors who’ll be getting a large check as soon as the deal is complete,” King says.

  This guy is no small-time thug. If what he’s saying is true, he’s better connected than we thought.

  As King begins to reveal his plans to us, the double doors open, and standing there is a beautiful woman dressed in a blue striped silk dress with matching open-toed shoes. Her skin is a smooth, honey brown hue, and her dress hugs her curvy and well-toned body. She wears a simple silver necklace with a diamond charm hanging from it.

  My heart feels like it’s dancing on my tongue. My pulse jumps. It isn’t because of her obvious beauty that I’m bugging out. It’s because I know this woman, and more importantly, she knows me. Her name is Vanessa Wells, and she was my girlfriend from high school 12 years ago.

  “Yo, this is my better half, Vanessa, Tommy,” King says. I look in her eyes and she looks into mine. I’m a dead man. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. She knows me as Jayson Harper. My only other option now is to pull out my piece and maybe shoot my way out of here.

  To my surprise, Vanessa plays a different hand. “Nice to meet you, Tommy,” she says.

  “You too,” I nervously reply.

  “What’s up, Dame?” Vanessa says.

  “Hey, Vanessa,” Damien shoots back.

  This is unreal. Why does she, of all people, have to be here with him? The woman I was so in love with back in the day is here now. I know she recognizes me.

  “Baby, I didn’t mean to interrupt you, but I wanted to know if we were still going to your mother’s tonight,” Vanessa says.

  King gets an uneasy look on his face. “Uh, listen, we got some things we need to discuss. We can reschedule for another night,” King says.

  “Okay, but you know how your mother is.”

  “I’ll call her, all right?”

  “Whatever. It’s your mother,” Vanessa says as she walks out. “Tommy, it’s nice to have met you.” She closes the door and King laughs.

  “Women. Don’t ever settle down, niggas. They can be so demanding. It takes a real man to handle them,” King says.

 
“You don’t even gotta worry about that, nigga,” Damien says and puffs the blunt.

  We drink and smoke for the rest of night until about eleven o’clock. Damien decides to go check on his son up in Harlem, and King stays up to watch The Wire on HBO. He says that he’s addicted to the show.

  I go upstairs and settle into a room on the west side of the building. I lie on the bed with my gun under my pillow, in case things get ugly. I can’t sleep. How can Vanessa be here? We were together our whole senior year. We were in love with each other. The last time I saw her was before she left to go to NYU after high school. We tried the whole long-distance thing, but it never worked out. I married Lauren two years after we broke up, but I always wondered how Vanessa was doing. I never thought she would end up here.

  Will she blow my cover to King? Does she know I’m a cop? As I’m thinking of different scenarios on how to get out of this alive, I hear a knock on the door. I grab my gun and take the safety off.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s me,” Vanessa says.

  I rest my hand under my pillow, still holding on to my gun. “Come in,” I say, uneasy about what’s about to happen.

  Vanessa walks in and closes the door behind her. We stare at each other in an uncomfortable silence.

  “What are you doing here, Jayson?”

  “I could ask you the same question,” I reply.

  “I think you’re in more of an awkward position than me. Why are you calling yourself Tommy?” she asks.

  “Vanessa, you know why. And you know why I’m here, too,” I say. I stare into her eyes and she immediately knows what I mean.

  “Oh my God, do you have any idea what he’ll do to you if he finds out?”

  “Yeah, I got a good idea. The more important question, however, is are you gonna tell him?”

  “Jayson, this is me you’re talking to. You know me. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

  “The Vanessa I knew wouldn’t be sleeping with Scarface downstairs either. What are you doing with him, Vanessa?”

  Vanessa looks away then gathers her thoughts. “A lot has changed since high school, Jayson. It’s not as black and white as you think,” she says.

  “Explain it to me then.”

  “Things happened in my life I couldn’t control. I . . . got caught up in some things and Dwayne helped me out,” Vanessa says to me regretfully.

  “So what, now you’re paying him back?”

  “When you get involved with a man like Dwayne, you can’t walk away so easily. How long does he have?” she asks.

  “As soon as this deal he’s planning is completed.”

  “And what happens to me?” she asks as she stares in my eyes.

  “If you’re not involved, nothing.”

  Vanessa breathes in relief. “It’s good to see you again, Jayson.” She turns and leaves the room. Damn, this shit has just gotten even more complicated.

  DAMIEN

  I’m driving to my BM’s house out in Harlem at about midnight. I love being back up here. This is my town. Back when I was a kid running these streets, I used to look up to the major hustlers. I was dying to be just like them. I used to be a corner boy, hustling all night long. King put me on and brought me into Da Untouchables with Bishop and got me hustling for real, making money. Now look at us. We run this city. We got most of New York on lock.

  Those were the days. The ’90s were off the chain. That’s when things were hot, for real. Can’t help but think of my girl, Stacy, back then. She was the only girl that ever really got to me, until her trifling ass started messing with that nigga, Remo, in Brooklyn. That’s when I realized you couldn’t trust any of these hoes. The only bitch I got any real love for is my baby momma, Trina. She’s a real downass chick, not just because she had my baby, but because she always had my back.

  I pull up to my Trina’s brownstone and park, then walk to the front and knock on the door.

  “Who is it?” Trina says. I know she sees me through the peephole.

  “It’s me. Open up.”

  Trina opens the door dressed in a long T-shirt and head wrap. She looks me up and down.

  “You gonna let me in?”

  “It’s after twelve. What if I had company?”

  “You better not have any nigga up in here with my son.” I walk by her.

  “He’s sleeping, Damien.”

  “I ain’t gonna wake him up.” I walk to his room and look at my seed sleeping in his tiny racecar bed. Damn, he’s gonna grow up and be just like me, only he won’t have to run the streets like me. I’m gonna take care of my boy.

  I kiss his head, close the door behind me, and walk to Trina’s bedroom. She’s sitting on her bed watching TV.

  “So, who you been fuckin’ with up here?”

  “Nigga, please. I know you down in Atlanta fucking some freak, so don’t be accusing me of shit,” she snaps. She’s right, but that’s not the point.

  “Don’t worry about what I’m doing. Answer the question,” I say to her.

  “I ain’t messing with nobody here, Damien. If I were, you would already know that.”

  “Damn right I would. I don’t want my seed calling no other nigga Daddy,” I tell her.

  “Whatever, Damien. What you doing up here?”

  “Just handling some business.”

  “Well, you can handle some business here too. Taye need some new clothes. He’s outgrowing everything,” Trina says.

  “You know I’m gonna take care of my seed, ma.”

  “Okay, whatever.” She rolls her eyes.

  “Why you acting like that?” I ask her.

  “Like what?” she sarcastically retorts.

  “Like you ain’t happy to see me.”

  “Should I be?”

  “Don’t front. You know you want me, ma.”

  Trina smiles as I caress her right titty through her shirt. That’s what I love about Trina—she’s a straight project chick, a whole lot of attitude and shit, but she’s fine as hell too. She ain’t as thick as Nikki, but she’s thick in all the right places.

  I sit next to her on the bed and kiss her neck. Trina might give me a lot of attitude, but she knows what time it is when I come through.

  I slide my hand up her thick brown thighs and play with her pussy under her panties. “Why you always gotta give me a hard time, girl?”

  “’Cause you give me one,” she says back.

  Damn, she gets wet so fast I can feel it through her panties. She raises her hips and I pull her underwear off as she lies back on the bed. I take my pants and boxers off and get on top of her.

  “I know you fucking some other bitch down in Atlanta, Damien,” Trina says to me unhappily, but still allowing me to rub her wet pussy with my dick.

  “You know you’re my heart, girl,” I say to her as I slide my dick up and down her moist slit. Then I push up in her and tear that ass up.

  “Oh . . . give me that dick, Dame,” Trina moans out in a Trinidadian accent.

  The sex is always live with Trina. She always be on some porno shit when we fuck. It must be that Trinidadian blood running in her veins. Her accent always comes out when we fight or have sex. I think that’s what turns me on about her. Plus, that little fat ass of hers makes me wanna bang all night long. Maybe I shouldn’t be hitting her ass raw dog, but her shit be so good a nigga can’t help but nut up in it. Oh, well. I might as well give Taye a little sister or something. I love homecomings.

  5

  The Last Dance

  MO’NIQUE

  Tommy’s been gone to New York for two weeks now. He called me a day ago and said he didn’t know when he would be back; he would call me when he knew. He says he’s fine, but I still can’t help but worry about him. Nikki calls me every other day, asking when I’m going to come back and dance at The Pink Palace. I keep on telling her not yet, even though I could use the money. Tommy left two grand for me to spend, but I haven’t touched it. I don’t want him to think I’m using him. I’ve actually signed u
p for a course so I can complete my GED. It turns out I only have to pass four tests with a C average or higher.

  I’ve been thinking about my life and what I wanna do with it. I used to love dancing before I started at The Palace, but now I can’t stand it. I like decorating. Maybe I could be an interior designer. I do like to sketch dress designs out on paper, too, but I won’t be designing shit if I don’t pass this course.

  I hear a knock on the door. I get up and answer it. It’s Nikki.

  “What’s up, Nikki?”

  “What’s up, girl? I see why you’ve been staying here. This shit is nice,” she says as she walks in and f lops down on the couch.

  “What’s going on, Nikki?”

  “Well, I know you’re on this new shit with Tommy, but I need your help.”

  “What is it?”

  “Well, you know that party I told you about last month? The one that Trey-D is throwing tomorrow night? Well, I promised him there would be three of us, and when I told him only two of us could make it, he said he’d find some other dancers to take our place.”

  “So you want me to come with y’all? Nikki, I know how Trey-D’s parties get down. I ain’t feeling that.”

  “Girl, please. I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t an emergency,” Nikki pleads.

  “Why don’t you get some other girl from the club?”

  “Them bitches? I ain’t trying to give them greedy hoes any of my money. Mo, if I show up with you, them niggas are gonna empty out their pockets! Ballers, Mo! You don’t have to do anything with them. Just shake a little something then bounce. Please, I need you,” Nikki says.

  I should say no, but Nikki has always looked out for me, and I do need some money. “All right, just this once,” I reluctantly say.

  “Thank you, girl! Hey, have you heard from Tommy?” she asks.

  “Yeah, just yesterday. Haven’t you been talking to Damien?”

  “Yeah, girl, you know he be blowing me up all day,” Nikki says quickly.