by N'Tyse
As Fletch’s footsteps faded, Illusion’s heart began to race. The adrenaline rush from the pill she’d swallowed minutes earlier was gradually taking her on a journey to her next euphoric high. If she had to go out there once again and grind on old tart-breath men who smelled like they’d been bathing in mothballs and Old Spice, then she’d make damn sure she was high enough to do it. And if the room was anything like she left it, there were at least six seniors in there, all gray-haired or balding, in suits and bow ties ready to get things jumping. The only thing that wasn’t quite a turnoff for Illusion was the fact they all were high-end clients of Chyna, meaning the scenery was greenery. But knowing Chyna, they’d already paid an upfront fee that included the gratuity because Chyna didn’t like certain customers placing that kind of money in her hoes’ hands. It’d give them a reason to leave her, maybe consider working for themselves. And Chyna couldn’t have her bitches thinking. At all. Because she did it for them. She simplified that part of the game. All that was needed from her hoes was to obey the orders they were given before going out on a sex date. And still after only ho’ing and showing for Chyna for two months, Illusion knew she wouldn’t be able to keep this up. She’d been better off working the streets alone, without a pimp “looking out for her” and “watching her back,” as she recalled all the crap Chyna sold her on.
Illusion waited a few minutes more while admiring the mosaic sculptures and art framings that embellished the room. Her focal point, a beautiful piece of hanging artwork and its array of rich, bold colors, softly blended with splashes of vibrant reds, emerald sea-greens, and indigo-blues. She found herself daydreaming about sweet nothings that included empty promises and dreams that never became realities. Then her thoughts drifted to someone else—her daughter. She wondered if her baby girl would remember her if she saw her now. No telling with all the hateful things she was sure her grandmother fed her. Last time she saw her baby, it was for her third birthday. Baby girl looked like a pretty little princess in all that pink and white, but that was over five years ago. Now her princess was eight, probably in the second or third grade.
Illusion hated everything her life had become and regretted all the bad decisions she’d ever made leading up to this very moment, starting with her daughter, a product of the streets that her mother still served. When Illusion gave birth to her daughter right in the breezeway of a vacant apartment building, instead of throwing her baby in the garbage can or leaving her in the backseat of a city bus for someone else to find, she gave her a better home, right on her mother’s doorstep.
Illusion wiped away the solo tear that snuck down her cheek. She had come to terms with herself a long time ago, so there was no need to sit and feel sorry all over again. That chapter in her life was closed—forever. But there wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t dwell on her past and wish that things had turned out differently. Unfortunately for her, that was life. It was shitty like that, to some. There was no Magic Marker or Incredible Crayon that could erase all the shit she’d done and been through. Everyone couldn’t be a doctor, lawyer, or teacher. Somebody had to be the pimp, ho, drug dealer, and homeless man on the corner with a “will work for food” sign. If not, the rich and famous, accomplished and privileged wouldn’t be so successful after all. Everyone would be common folk, average, and no better than the next.
That’s exactly how Illusion had come to view life. But she knew she could do better than turning tricks for money—much better. Illusion wanted and needed that change, but until change came, she had to do what a moneymaker had to do. Spin those tricks and get that money.
Illusion blinked back the tears threatening to fall from her eyes. The room was spinning. She recognized this. The X Fairy had come to visit, and the bitch was working her magic spell. As it came down on her, Illusion surprisingly found herself crawling under the 600-thread count Italian sheets, when normally, she’d be horny as hell and ready to fuck the first thing with a hard dick. She could faintly hear her theme music in the background and knew Ty was pulling in a double. As T-Pain remixed that he was in love with a stripper, Illusion visualized the men spanking Ty’s ass and yelling for her to take more clothes off, to give them their money’s worth.
Her eyelids gradually folded over the glossed whites of her eyes, then rose again. All she wanted was to dream—dream about the life she always wanted, the life she never had. She forced her eyes shut, and everything turned black. A sense of calmness comforted her. Sleep was the closest thing to death, and if death meant peace, then she’d pray to God that she would never wake up.
2
“I know this bitch ain’t finally show her face after I done did all the damn work!” Ty huffed loudly, straining the vessels in her skinny neck. “Uh-uh. Hell, naw. Fuck that! Take me to the house, Fletch, and leave this bitch here!” she ordered. “I ain’t playin’. This ho ain’t ridin’ with us.”
“Ty, calm all that shit down, girl!” Fletch yelled. “I got this.” He turned to face Illusion. “What happened, ma?”
Illusion rolled her eyes upward. “Shit, I fell asleep. Blacked out. Hell, I don’t know. And why didn’t your ass come back up and get me? Thought you were looking out,” she went off, mimicking his earlier remark. She felt a headache coming on. If it wasn’t for one of those drunk-ass men trying to slip in the bed with her, she would probably still be asleep, dead to the world. When the old man told Illusion the party was over and that her friends were leaving, she jumped up, knocking him to the floor, and hauled ass to the elevator, catching up to Fletch and Ty as they were getting into the Hummer.
“Remember, you the one told me to leave your ass alone,” Fletch hollered back, refreshing her memory. “I tried to tell you these people paid for a two-ho show tonight. Not one, but two,” he repeated, waving the peace sign directly in her face. “Besides, I was outside watching the door. Making sure y’all’s asses were safe,” he seethed.
Illusion wasn’t buying that. “Yeah, sure you were. Your ass was probably down here jackin’ off,” she huffed. “Everybody know what you do in there with them windows rolled up,” she blasted, putting him on front street. Her gold chandelier earrings dangled across her shoulders every time her head swayed from side to side. “You ain’t fooling no-damn-body. And so what? Y’all was just gonna leave me here?”
“Come on now. You know good and well I was—”
“You ain’t gotta explain shit to this bitch!” Ty shot, cutting Fletch off mid-sentence. “She knew what time it was when we got here. And now the bitch acting brand new all of a sudden,” she raved. Ty didn’t give a flying fuck that Illusion was standing right there in close enough range to hear every word she said. “Now she thinks she’s too good to work a call like this, leaving me in there all by my damned self.” Ty balled her hands and pumped her fists, then slammed the door. “Trifling bitch,” she spat under her breath while finding it hard as hell to believe that she got played.
Illusion was reading Ty’s lips. “Bitch? I ain’t gon’ be too many more of your bitches, I’ll tell you that much! Ya li’l young high-yella ass need to learn how to respect your fucking elders,” Illusion chastised, knowing she was probably only a few years older than Ty. “Better get your little Chocolate tie-a-shoe or tie-a-whateva you want somebody to tie-lookin’ ass on somewhere.” Illusion combed through her hair with her fingertips, then neatly tucked her mane into a tight knot, just in case something popped off. After a minute or two, she pulled the back door handle, attempting to get in, finding it locked.
Fletch instantly looked over at Ty. “Ty, quit playing. We ain’t got all fucking night for this shit. Unlock the damn door!”
“Hell, no! That bitch about to walk her ass to Midlothian. Hope them feet ready, bitch!” Ty sang. “Now, sleep on that,” she laughed.
“Ty, give me the keys,” Fletch said, holding his hand out to her.
Ty rocked her head from side to side. With her lips poked out like a bird’s, her eyes open wide, and her short, spiked hairdo, which
was highlighted a royal blue and honey blond, she looked just like the peacock the girls in the house jokingly called her. But she thought the style was tight, and Chyna never said otherwise. She smacked her lips and popped her tongue. “Make that bitch walk some of the fat off her ass. Horse-built skank. Hell, she ain’t running a damn thing over here,” she said as she gripped Fletch’s keys tighter and relaxed back in the seat, unfazed. She rolled up all the windows in Illusion’s face, bringing her yapping down to a minimum.
Illusion tried the door again, but it was still locked. Her high in less effect, she began hitting on the windows for them to let her in. She couldn’t see through the illegal tint, but she knew, without a doubt, that Ty was getting a kick out of everything. Her patience had already run thin, plus, it was too damn cold to be standing there playing childish-ass games. Illusion was wishing like hell that she hadn’t showed up to work the party tonight. Chyna knew better than pairing them up because Illusion didn’t want or need a sidekick. She was good on her own. So all the extra Chyna sent along with her was a bunch of BS.
The smell of rain brushed across Illusion’s nose. Recalling the weatherman’s forecast about cool temperatures and scattered showers, Illusion became infuriated at the idea of getting her fresh hairdo wet. She shot Ty a murderous look through the glass. “Bitch, I’ma whoop your ass! Believe that. I betcha won’t jump your ass outta the car!” Illusion challenged, pointing her long French-tipped nail at Ty. Illusion held her hands in the air, calling Ty out. “Come on. Get ya ass outta the car, ho!”
Illusion’s angry expression and her cat-eyed look frightened Fletch. He thought he was watching a scene from the Exorcist as curse words flew like flaming darts from each of the women’s mouths.
“Get out? Bitch, I don’t have to! I’m not the one who gon’ be walking. So get a head start, trick ho!”
Ty was pissed off and felt like she had every valid reason to be because Illusion had left her alone to strip, dance, and do whatever else she was asked to do for six stank-breath, wheezing old men. All six of them had begged for her to go down on them for a little something extra, and like a true moneymaking ho, she adhered to their every request. She sucked their wrinkled sac dicks without hesitation until each of them came one by one, believing she’d prove to Chyna that she was a ride-or-die chick for the paper.
“Ha ha ha. Come on, y’all, stop. It’s too late for all this shit,” Fletch finally admitted, lowering his driver’s-side window some more so Illusion could see all of his face. Although he was tempted to video his own Ghetto Brawl catfight and sell the DVDs for ten dollars a pop, he was tired and ready to get home to some pussy. Enough was enough. “My girl at home waiting on a nigga, so y’all needs to chill the fuck out and kill that noise, mayne!” He looked down to check his cellular. Aggravated, he sighed loud and hard, then pressed his head back against the headrest. “It’s almost one in the fuckin’ morning, and y’all muhfuckas out here arguing over some dumb shit.” He turned his whole body back to his right. “Give me my damn keys, girl, before I make your skinny ass walk right along with her. That way, both of y’all asses can shut the fuck up and raise up outta my ear with all dat!”
Ty flinched and turned up her nose. His breath was kicking, and he was starting to sound just like both of them. “Fletch, if you let this bitch in this car, I promise you, I will push her ass out into moving traffic. Do . . . not . . . test . . . me,” she forewarned. She was getting madder by the minute.
“All right, all right. Damn,” Fletch laughed, finally giving in to Ty. He slid his hands over his smooth baby soft face—the only other admiring feature that women saw in him in addition to his made-to-suck-pussy-eating tongue and lips.
“Yeah, nigga, remember who sucks your dick without the payment plan,” Ty scoffed, referring to him not having to pay Chyna for the services he got on the side. Of course, he knew if Chyna ever caught wind of that shit, it’d be all over for him. That was like stealing food out of her kitchen.
“Aww, shut the hell up! That’s favor for favor,” he shot back. Fletch already didn’t like being manhandled and threatened by a woman, let alone being blackmailed and punked by another. If the money wasn’t right, he would have told Chyna to kiss his ass long ago. But it was, so there were never any complaints out of him. He was paid to stick around and play LoJack. Not only that, he used to move weight for her uncle back in the day, so he was like part of the family, the way he saw it.
Just as Fletch was turning around to tell Illusion he would come back for her, she was already making her way around to the passenger side of the car where Ty had reclined the seat and gotten comfortable once again. Illusion unballed her right fist, letting the huge rock in her hand fly. Fletch saw the rock coming and ducked in record time. Illusion then took off her left shoe.
Raising up quickly as shattered glass covered her lap, Ty’s face was immediately met with Illusion’s size nine-and-a-half, six-inch heel, and a fist that showed no jealousy when it came to redecorating her face. Illusion used the heel on her shoe as the weapon it was never imagined to be and sliced and diced Ty’s face like she was discovering a new pumpkin-carving technique.
“Ho, I told you I was gon’ get that ass. Ugh! Now what? Talk all that hot shit now, you bald-headed tramp.” Illusion swung wildly, every intended blow landing on Ty’s once-flawless face. Not even the MAC makeup she wore would be able to disguise the damage from the ass beating she was receiving.
Ty tried to fight back, but the seat belt secured around her offered no advantage.
Fletch hurriedly jumped out of the car and ran to Ty’s rescue. His unzipped fly confirmed Illusion’s earlier accusations. “Illusion!” he screamed.
“Let me go, Fletch!” Illusion grabbed as much of Ty’s hair as she could fist, then pounded her face nonstop, using her shoe as a backup punch that intensified every unsparing hit.
“Stop it! You trippin’, girl.” Fletch managed to pull Illusion away from the car and snatch the shoe out of her hand. He threw it to the ground. “Man, stay yo’ ass right here! I’ll come back and get you!” he hollered, almost out of breath. “Y’all actin’ like some gotdamn five-year-olds!” He turned to face his ride, raising his hands over his head at the sight of it. “Shit! Why y’all always gotta bust out a nigga’s windows? Does my ride say ‘fuck a nigga shit up’?” he yelled.
Without a mark or scratch, Illusion stepped back, allowing Ty space and opportunity to hop out of the vehicle and take her on for round two. This time, face-to-face. Fist-to-fist. She made sure her bun was still tucked tightly in place. She knew females always went for the hair, and she’d be damned if she let Ty get the best of her in any way. While her eyes remained on the passenger door, she tuned out Fletch’s ranting and bitching about breaking his window. Wasn’t like it was the first time a woman had bust out his car windows, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. She looked him up and down as if she was sizing him up, then looked back down at the fragments of black glass that covered the curb and sidewalk.
Ty was still strapped in her seat, screaming, “My face! Awww! Look what this bitch did to my face!” The unending blood that dripped onto her shirt scared her even more.
“What I tell you? I told your ass not to fuck with me. Don’t let the good looks fool you, bitch,” Illusion boasted, feeling like Laila Ali.
“Illusion! Keep yo’ ass right here,” Fletch pointed at the ground. “I ain’t playin’ with you either, girl. I’ll be back soon as I drop Ty off,” he said. He hopped back into the Hummer and sped off.
Halfway down the road Illusion could still hear Ty’s screaming crybaby ass. She stepped back into her $200-designer shoe, wiggling it a little. Her heel was still intact. She could hardly believe it because she knew she had just whipped the shit out of Ty with it.
She struggled with whether she should wait on Fletch, get a head start and walk, or just turn around and go the other way altogether. She was already sick of living in that house. All those women. All that drama. Making way
less money than she walked in with, and dealing with way more madness than she signed up for. There wasn’t much to think about. Illusion made a few bad choices in life, but she was no dummy. She didn’t need Chyna to survive. Hell, survival came with a how-to kit and that kit was tucked tightly in between her legs.
Illusion started for the opposite direction. The city slickers and street kittens were all out at play. Midnight had turned into one in the morning and for the scavengers, goons, and hustlers on the block, the day was just beginning.
3
Chyna had been trying to reach Sand for over an hour now, only for the calls to be redirected to the motel’s switchboard. She was getting more irritated by the minute. Before she could dial the number again, her phone lit up. It was Fantasy calling her from the house.
“Chyna!”
“Speak to me.”
“Where are you? It’s Illusion!”
Chyna listened closely to the background noise on the other end of her line. “What about her?”
“She done beat this girl up! She bleeding every-gotdamn-where. Her eye, her nose, and her lip is busted. She’s gonna need stitches,” Fantasy rambled uncontrollably.
“Slow your roll, Fantasy! Beat who up?” Chyna snapped as she proceeded slowly through the blinking traffic light. She turned on the windshield wipers and attempted to wipe away the falling rain that made everything before her a constant blur.
“Ty!” Fantasy was cringing just from looking at the poor girl. “You gotta see this damn girl’s face.”
“Where’s Fletch?”
“He left to go back for Illusion because his dumb ass left her at the hotel.”
“I’ma kill that bitch! I swear that ho don’t know who the fuck she messin’ with. Just watch me. That bitch got it coming!”