by N'Tyse
Illusion held his attention. She was the most attractive woman he’d ever seen in his life, but he knew he’d be a fool to admit that kind of truth. As if considering, “Oh yeah? Humph. So, what can you show me that I might not already know about the D?” He crossed his arms and leaned against his car while waiting for her to enlighten him.
Illusion took two steps closer and whispered in his ear the way she hoped he’d let her do later. “I can make you forget all about that woman back in Florida,” she assured him, without a doubt. The look on her face was nothing short of a woman with determination that went after what she wanted, when she wanted it.
He lowered his eyes and drew his neck back. “Word?” he chuckled.
Illusion stood with no shame in her game and all confidence. She could fuck his world up and have him worshiping her pussy before night’s end. But right now, she wanted to know exactly what was so damned funny. She slid her hands across her hips, making sure he took full notice of the package. “I didn’t realize I was so funny before,” she said finally.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh. It’s just that,” he stopped, held his thoughts for a second. “Damn, y’all Dallas women sure do get straight to the point, don’t cha? Y’all don’t even give a brotha a life jacket. You just throw him in the pool and let him figure out how to swim all on his own, huh?”
Illusion shrugged her shoulders. Maybe that was true for some, but she wasn’t concerned about any other ho except for the ho in her that was dying to get to know him a little better and on a much more personal note. She studied him closely, digesting the idea of what his dick must taste like.
“Whoo. I don’t mean to come off ugly or ill-mannered in no kind of way, so do excuse me in advance. But,” he scratched his head, “I really don’t think I’m what you’re looking for in a man,” he admitted. Seeing where the conversation was heading, he pulled out of it prematurely. There wasn’t room for distractions like this one. He came too far. He was on a mission, and he predicted this woman before him would make him lose focus of the reason he was back in a place he vowed to never return to. He turned his back to Illusion and walked over to his side of the car, opened his car door, and hopped in.
“How you know what I’m looking for?” Illusion called out to him. “You don’t know anything about me. I could be the best thing that ever happened to you,” she insisted. “You know what I’m worth out here?” She considered throwing some numbers his way, just so he’d know he was in the presence of the real deal, but decided against it.
“Look, I’m not sure what you’re used to around here, but me personally, I don’t expect a woman to have sex with me when she doesn’t even know me. You too damn pretty for that, and I couldn’t live with myself knowing I cheated you out of what should be more than what you make in a day’s pay.” He smiled, allowing himself to stay in the game but ahead in the race. Had it been a few years ago, he knew he would have taken the pussy coupon, hit it, and quit it. But that was then. “Besides, you wouldn’t be interested in a guy of my caliber,” he told her flatly.
Illusion just looked at him. Was she being turned down? “And why wouldn’t I be interested in a guy like you?” Her menacing stare should have bore holes through his grape-colored skin. When he dropped, then lifted his head back up, his diamond solitaires glistened in her face.
He collected himself. Did she really want the answer to that? “Well, first off, I’m no trick.” He looked around, cranking his engine. They were holding up apparently the only two other good pumps since pump two was broken and pump one had a line forming.
“So, you know my type? Or you think you do?” she challenged. A trick to her was just another spot to fill in her little black book and a reliable stream of income. Her regulars never let her down. They’d make permanent room to see her. After all, she was their bonus prize they’d busted overtime for all week. But did that mean those were her type? Hell, no. Illusion crossed her arms, feeling somewhat insulted.
“No, I don’t know your type. I just know me.” He held up his finger, mouthing apologies to the people that waited impatiently in their vehicles.
Illusion was astounded. Not even Denzel Washington could play a better role than the one he was playing. She had never had to work so hard to convince a man of anything. The bit of dialogue they shared, she found it to be interesting enough to still bless him with her full attention.
“But I do happen to be on a special quest; otherwise, I’d enjoy talking with you some more,” he continued. He reached for his designer shades hanging off the visor and placed them over his face. Then he watched Illusion lose the thrill in her eyes. But it was his loss, not hers.
Illusion ignored the honking of car horns behind them. “Special quest? Okay, well, I don’t wanna hold you up,” she said, as she sneaked a quick scan of his car. She blocked the sun out of her eyes and just when she decided to let the man move on about his business, she almost gave herself whiplash. There was a gold cross hanging on the neck of his rearview mirror, but that wasn’t the reason her mouth flew open and her eyes began to strain. She tried to make out the girl who was posed in the picture wearing a red, white, and blue cheerleader uniform. She stepped closer until her breasts were nearly rubbing up against his ride. It had to be her. There was no doubt about it. Illusion broke out in chills, although she was standing directly in the morning sunlight. Gesturing to the picture, “Who’s the girl?” she asked. She had to take a second and third look. “She’s pretty.”
“Oh, this?” He took the wallet-sized portrait down and kissed it.
Illusion’s nose flared up, and the butterflies in her stomach began to swarm around.
His voice weakened. “This my baby sister, Tylesha,” he said, staring closely at the wallet portrait. “This here was her junior year in high school.” He inhaled deeply. “I drove all the way from Florida for this girl right here, and I promised my mother that I ain’t leaving until I find her.”Illusion remained paralyzed in complete and suffocating shock. “Look, lady, can you move your car!” a black guy yelled out of his window at her.
“Don’t you see me talking, rude ass?” Illusion snapped back. She turned back to Ty’s brother.
“Speaking of that, that’s my mission for being out this early ’cause a brother normally don’t crack a peek until at least ten in the morning,” he laughed. Beep! Beep! “Well, I better get out of these folks’ way. Thanks for the compliment,” he smiled.
“Huh? What?” Illusion had spaced out for a moment.
“My eyes, remember? Being sexy and all,” he grinned, showing a beautiful set of straight white teeth.
“Oh yeah.” Illusion rubbed her forehead. She wanted to tell him. She tried to tell him, but the words wouldn’t come out fast enough. “I,” she inhaled. “Um . . . I think I can help you find your sister.” She dropped her head and faced him again.
He muted the stereo volume so that he could hear her better. “What was that?” he asked her.
Illusion struggled with a way to tell him. She bit down on her bottom lip.
“Fuck you!” the irate guy yelled, whipping his truck around and reversing to the lane with the longer line. Illusion held up her middle finger without looking in his direction. “I know her. We. Humph. Look, I know your sister, okay? Let me just help you find her.”
He looked baffled, but the seriousness in Illusion’s face and voice said it all. She knew something. She had information. He removed his shades as if doing so would give him a better understanding of what she was telling him.
Illusion felt faint, and the burden that rested on her heart was all too unbearable. It was that exact same feeling she felt oftentimes when she thought about her baby. She wished she hadn’t run into him today. She wished she could walk away and pretend that Ty was better off in the streets, even if she knew it wasn’t true. Instead of feeling what she felt, she wished she was across the street, inside that truck, making her wages by the nut.
“Are you telling me you know where
my sister might be?”
“Yeah,” Illusion nodded. She was almost too ashamed to admit that she had that kind of information now. “I do. But I just hope you’re ready to find out,” she told him sadly.
“You stealing my gas! Come back! I not charge correctly!” the short Arabian clerk yelled from the front door at everyone who zoomed past in their cars, scurrying across the parking lot in different directions. He had a pen and paper in hand trying to record the license plates but couldn’t write them down fast enough.
Illusion looked around, then at the pump’s display. It was blinking. The clerk had turned them all off. “Follow me!” She circled the pump and hopped in the BMW. She drove it about half a block up from the service station, then she pulled into an empty driveway, just as if it were her own, and jumped out of the car lugging her belongings. She activated the alarm on the car, then slid the keys into her purse and quickly hopped inside the waiting Infiniti. She hoped this man wouldn’t ask her any questions about the car she just jumped out of, the house they were driving away from, and the bag of clothes she just pushed between her feet.
“So back to my sister, where is she?”
Illusion looked on in silence as he navigated his way through the South Dallas neighborhood. She finally looked up at Ty’s brother. “I’ll tell you where to find your sister,” she said. “And when you do, the best thing you can do for her is get her out of Texas. That’s if you want to keep her alive,” she said seriously.
Trent looked from her, then back to the road. He gripped the wheel tighter. A million things ran through his mind. He could only think the worst of what this woman was trying to tell him, but luckily, he came to Dallas prepared for anything.
“By the way, you never told me your name,” Illusion said, reaching for the sunglasses that rested in his lap.
“You never asked,” he smiled slyly, making a right and merging on to the I-30 freeway. “I’m Trent,” he said, scoping Illusion out in the corner of his eye as she placed his shades over her face.
“Trent?” she repeated. She turned to face him. “Well, Trent, I’m Illeshia.”
“Nice to meet you, Illeshia.”
“Pleasure’s all mines,” she smiled. Illusion took another look around her. She was just as afraid now of being spotted as she was earlier. She leaned farther back in her seat. As long as she was wanted by Chyna, she could never get comfortable.
Ever.
13
Fantasy’s head moved feverishly between Chyna’s succulent thighs. She kissed and drove her pretty pink tongue repeatedly over her lover and pimp’s smooth, erotic flesh until all Chyna could do was moan in pure ecstasy and spit orgasm after orgasm into her mouth. She pulled her in closer, gyrating her own hips while her wife’s tongue twirled the tip of her clit. It felt so good, but Chyna wanted more. She flipped Fantasy on her backside and played out the scene from all the times before.
“Make me come,” Fantasy called out.
Chyna was right behind her. She rocked her harder, faster. She was in control. Fantasy’s head fell back, and her breasts stole the show. Chyna moved her hands over Fantasy’s bouncing breasts, cupping them in her palm as she massaged her nipples between her fingers.
“Oh shit!” Fantasy cried out, her radiator overheating. She felt the rush of her orgasm bombard all her senses. She made the entire bed shake as if a herd of cows jumped in with them. Chyna looked down at her own wet stomach and satin sheets. She uncrossed her legs and eased off her bitch. “If my phone rings, answer it,” she said. “I’m expecting a drop today.”
Fantasy nodded her head obediently. “Okay,” she yawned. This was why she felt special. Chyna wasn’t fucking and spending time with the other girls like she did with her. She was her token, and it would always be that way if she had anything to do with it.
Three hours had passed before Chyna picked up the phone to call one of her runners. “I need to talk to P,” she said.
“Yeah, this him. What up wit’cha?” P answered groggily.
“What’s up with me? Nigga, where the fuck is my shit?” Chyna lashed out into the receiver.
“The drop? Man, you better get outta here with that shit, Chyna. That’s been done. Ya boy made that happen for us last night. Shit, you got your days twisted up or something? You got your dough.”
Chyna gripped the phone tighter. “If I had it, motherfucker, I wouldn’t be calling you, now, would I?” She glanced at her watch. She was already behind schedule.
“Man, catch this,” P said in his morning voice. “We did what you told us to. It was that new mark-ass cop friend of yours and whoever the fuck those other cats are you get down with,” P said, rambling off names. “We dropped half a mil last night on ya boy. Him and Aaron counted that shit, gave us our keys, and caught ghost. So all that shit you talkin’ in my ear right now ain’t what’s up, ma.”
Chyna got quiet. This couldn’t be happening.
Fantasy made her way back from the bathroom. She recognized the heated look in Chyna’s face.
“Look, my business is done here in Dallas. Adiós this shit,” P said before hanging up in her face.
Chyna stared at the phone in her hand.
“What’s going on?” Fantasy asked.
Chyna didn’t say a word. She tried calling James, but every call went straight to voice mail. She was furious. She punched in Aaron’s number, a veteran officer on the force, and her inside connect.
“You’ve reached Aaron. Leave me ya number and a message, and I’ll hit you back.”
Chyna didn’t want to talk to no damn answering machine! The anger that filled her made her hurl the phone clean across the room. She dragged her fingernails through her hair, nearly peeling the skin off her scalp. “Goddammit!” she yelled. She finally raised her head and saw Fantasy standing in a corner, afraid to make a move. “Call Fletch!” she ordered.
Fantasy knew by the look in Chyna’s eyes that it could only mean trouble. She picked up Chyna’s phone and punched in Fletch’s digits as Chyna paced the room. She waited after a few rings, then handed her the phone.
“Hello,” the raspy voice on the other end of the telephone line called out.
“Let me talk to Fletch,” Chyna demanded.
“Who’s this?” the woman questioned, unaware that she was speaking to Fletch’s boss.
“Bitch, just put him on the motherfucking phone!”
“Bitch?” The woman directed her anger at Fletch. “I’m tired of your bitches calling. You need to check your hoes—”
“Didn’t nobody tell your ass to answer my phone anyway,” Fletch fired back. “Who the fuck is this?” he asked, still half-asleep.
“So, I have to be one of your bitches now?”
Fletch’s eyes popped open, and the bass in his voice vanished once he realized it was Chyna. He double-checked the number on the phone. “Chyna? I, uh, was, uh, just about to call you,” he said, trying to get his lie together. “Man, I looked all night for Illusion’s ass. She must have—”
Chyna cut him off and saved him the embarrassment of getting bitched out in front of his woman. “Look,” she exhaled, “I got crossed last night, and I need you to help me track my package.”
Fletch was almost unsure if the woman on the phone was really Chyna, sounding as desperate as she was sounding right now. “What kind of package?” he asked warily.
Chyna knew that she was about to give Fletch more information than he needed to know, but she didn’t feel like she had much of a choice. All she wanted was her fucking money. She cleared her throat. “Half a million dollars.”
Those last few words had his full attention. He wiped the matter out of his eyes and hopped out of the bed and took a walk down the hall, away from the woman whose name had completely escaped him. He rested on the love seat, lit up the leftover blunt in the ashtray, and concentrated on his next question. He had to consider what was in it for him, but Chyna quickly eased his concerns.
“Fifty grand!” she blurted, reading h
is mind.
That was more than Fletch could ask for. He quickly agreed to do it. “Let me round up my boys and get some shit crackalacking,” he said with confidence. Fletch knew the streets like nobody’s business, so he was certain that somebody was gonna slip up.
Chyna made a mental deduction of what she had just promised Fletch. That fifty grand dropped to twenty-five hundred immediately. He was crazy if he thought for one second that she didn’t know he was fucking Ty behind her back, but now was not the time to bring it to the table. “You do that,” she told him. “In the meantime, Illusion is still a priority.”
Fletch rolled his eyes as he inhaled his morning herb.
Chyna rattled off her instructions. “I’ll call you in about an hour. Until then, I think you need to check Ms. Mouth over there. She needs to recognize a superior when she’s speaking to one.” With that, she disconnected the call. Chyna played everything out in her mind. She knew she could only count on Fletch to a certain extent, but right now, he was her only hope, so all she could do was believe that everything would pan out nice and smoothly. She took another look at Fantasy. “Go round up the girls. I want everybody to hear this.”
Fantasy stood to her feet and headed in the direction of upstairs.
Chyna had a lot on her plate, but that wasn’t anything new. She closed her eyes, exhaled a sigh, and balled her fists at her side. She didn’t have time for this shit today. She checked the time again. She had runs to make, appointments to clear, and dope to distribute.
All the girls stumbled in one by one, a few looking as though they were about to rip the runway, and the others still draped in whatever they slept in. Chyna glanced around the room, eyeballing every last one of them. She was two short of twelve girls.
“What’s going on? We having a meeting or something?” Peaches asked everybody. All the other women stared at her bug-eyed.