Stud Princess

by N'Tyse

  “So you think you can fuckin’ play me, ho?” Sand barked. Her hand went straight for Ty’s left jaw, but she weaved in record time.

  Deja pulled Sand back with all her might, but Sand was way too strong for her 147 pounds to compete with. Sand got up close and personal with Ty.

  “What? You wanna hit me? I brought the shit back!” Ty yelled. She pushed the pillowcase of money into Sand’s chest. “It’s all there. Count it if you want to.”

  Sand snatched the bag, lowering it to her side. She stepped a foot closer to Ty so that the shit she was about to let loose didn’t get mistaken. “I ain’t fucking with you! If any of this money gone . . .”

  Deja switched her eyes from Ty, then back to Sand. She could see her nosy neighbors peeking out of their blinds from across the street. “Let’s go back in the house, y’all. You can talk it out in here.” She opened her door wider, but neither of them budged.

  “Naw. Ain’t nothing to talk about.” Sand gave Ty a hard up stare, daring her to give her a reason to knock the shit out of her ass. “I gotta get this shit back to Chyna before it get back to her that a drop was made last night while I had her car. Knowing her, she already looking for the shit.”“What makes you think she ain’t looking for me too? You forgot who was with you last night?” Ty said. “It’s not just you; it’s both of our heads.”

  Deja rolled her eyes at Ty. She didn’t know when to quit. She stared up at Sand with saddened eyes. “All right. I guess we can stick with our original plan. Sandrene’s, tonight at eleven.” She searched for assurance in Sand’s face, but it wasn’t there. Deja sensed there were no guarantees, but Sand had given her word, and that’s exactly what she was going to hold on to. Her showing up was going to be the only way that she would know that Sand was okay.

  As Sand turned to leave, Ty stormed right behind her. “You can’t just leave me out here, in the middle of nowhere.” She looked around her.

  “Humph, watch me.” Sand rounded the Lexus, opened the trunk, then hid the pillowcase full of Chyna’s money under the trunk board where the spare tire used to be. She pushed the duffel bag back in the center, closed the trunk, and got in the car.

  “Sand!”

  Sand started the engine, ignoring Ty. Then she backed out of the driveway.

  “Sand! I said I was sorry,” Ty yelled, chasing after her. She did indeed try to apologize, but when she saw how quickly Sand’s fist was coming toward her face once Deja opened that door, the words never quite left her lips.

  Sand was halfway down the street before she slammed on the brakes. She had to think with some sense. Ty knew all Chyna’s spots, at least those she frequented on a regular basis. Sand knew Ty had information that could assist her with carrying out her plan. “Get in the damn car!” she shouted.

  Ty ran for the car and hopped in.

  “You see this?” Sand flashed her chrome 9 mm. “I ain’t playin’ games with you no more.”

  Ty was petrified, and if she never took anybody seriously, in that moment, she knew to take Sand very seriously.

  Sand controlled the wheel. Her entire demeanor had changed. She felt like a different person now, and that raging adrenaline that pumped through her veins and knotted her stomach said no different. She punched her foot to the floor and swallowed that reminder. She was doing all of this to protect a woman, a woman she vowed to hate for the rest of her life. And when it was all over and done, Rene would be nothing more than just a hateful memory.

  16

  Illusion and Trent sat in a smoke-filled room at the opposite end of Applebee’s entrance. She was busy trying to digest the steak and potatoes, right along with everything else Trent had just told her. She could hardly believe she was having lunch with a real man of service, a man that was in the military. She didn’t know not one black person who could say they even thought about fighting for our country, let alone dying for it. But this man—wow; she just couldn’t stop smiling. He was brave. And maybe that’s exactly what she needed in her corner . . . a man like him who was fearless. While he could take on an entire country’s battle and allow its troubles to rest upon his shoulders, behind him needed to be a woman who he could surrender his tears to. Illusion wished for a second that that woman was her. She wondered if a good man like Trent could ever see himself with someone like her.

  She tried not to stare Trent down, but it was so hard, so she diverted her eyes to the attention of men who propositioned her right from in their seats. Some of them with their significant others nearby. On another day, any other day beside today, Illusion would walk right on over and introduce herself. She was bold when it came to moves like that. However, instead of allowing her money-hungry intuition to intervene, she pulled out a cigarette, fondled the tip with her lips, and put her light to it. She sucked out the nicotine as if it would be the last thing she’d ever do. She exhaled a mouthful of smoke rings.

  “So, soldier boy, why don’t you like being in Dallas? I mean, this is where your family is,” she questioned, feeling Trent out.

  Trent studied Illusion closely. There was an undeniable mystique about her. “It’s not that I don’t like Dallas. There’s just nothing else here for me.”

  “And there is in Florida?” she asked, pursing her lips to the side for the smoke to seep out.

  “Humph,” Trent shook his head. Some things women just didn’t understand. Or maybe didn’t want to understand. “I moved away because I needed a change. I was so caught up in the street life when I was here that it wasn’t even funny. Every choice I had to make was a bad one.” He referred to the days he posted up in the cut, competing for business. Doing whatever he had to do to take care of his mother and baby sister since their biological father had walked out on them. “So I moved to get away from things that would have landed me either in jail or in the grave.” He watched Illusion’s expression change.

  “But you walked out on the only family you had—” As soon as Illusion said it, she wanted to take it back. Isn’t that what she had done to her baby? She shook her head, stared upward, and then sighed. “You know what? Forget I said that just now.” A burning sensation moved through her nose. She looked away from him, and the ash developing around her cigarette dropped in her lap.

  “You a’ight?” Trent asked, watching her eyes water.

  Illusion placed her cigarette into the ashtray. “I need to go to the ladies’ room.” She slid out of the booth, grabbing her purse.

  The moment Illusion stepped inside the stall, she broke down in tears. She leaned her head back against the door and a fury of silent regrets swept across her face. She missed her baby so much, and there wasn’t a second that went by that she didn’t think about her. The aches in her belly felt like tiny kicks of life. She rubbed at them, only to be reminded that she’d given that life away.

  Illusion relieved herself, then walked to the sink and turned on the faucet. She dipped her fingers under the stream. She couldn’t even stand to look at herself as she bent over and scooped cold water into her mouth, only to spit it back out. She pulled out a stick of gum and stuck it into her mouth.

  Walking back to the booth where Trent was no longer sitting, Illusion began looking around, almost hysterical. The waitress that waited on their table was passing her by, carrying a full tray of food and drinks. Illusion stopped her. “Hey, did you see where that guy went that I was sitting with?”

  The young woman nodded, then pointed to the front of the restaurant where people were both leaving and entering.

  Illusion excused herself as she passed those coming toward her. She spotted Trent and walked straight over to where he stood. He was on the phone. Illusion could hear a woman crying in the background.

  “Mama, calm down. I’ll find her. I promise you. She gon’ be all right.” Trent’s mother was still pouring out her soul over the phone.

  Illusion stepped back, giving him his privacy.

  When Trent finally looked up, Illusion was standing there, watching him. He walked over to her. “Th
at was my mother.” He took a deep breath. “Ty called,” he continued. He was visibly worried. “She sounded like she might be in some kind of trouble.” He looked Illusion in the eye and placed his hands over hers. “Look, I gotta find my sister. And I gotta find her tonight.” Trent had to be sure Illusion knew how important this was. Right now, nothing else mattered to him.

  “And we’re going to find her,” Illusion promised him. “But you have to know what you’re about to get yourself involved in.”

  Trent stared at Illusion incredulously. Hadn’t she figured it out? He wasn’t scared of shit out here in these streets. These streets are what made him who he was today. A hard-ass nigga with nothing to lose. If anything, it would be a family reunion.

  “I don’t care. Ain’t nothin’ gettin’ in my way.”

  “We’ll find her. Don’t worry.” But with the update they just got, even Illusion was starting to have doubts. Because the more time passed, the slimmer their chances of finding Ty were.

  17

  Chyna rolled up and down the strip in her midnight-black Jaguar five times, hoping to catch Illusion slipping. It was Saturday, and her stable of hoes had their regulars, but Chyna had to pop in on her street interns. They would work the stroll and recruit fresh meat. They were her cover-ups to conceal what was really going down and were put in place to protect the higher-risk clients like the corporate players, mayors, city councilmen, pastors, judges, bank execs, etc., that would regularly partake in her business offerings. So at every turn, Chyna’s money train was rolling.

  Though only a handful of girls had Chyna’s name tattooed on their bodies, it was evident with the clothes they wore, the shoes they rocked, and the cost to have it all—that they were Chyna’s livestock. She charged her customers accordingly. And everything she had done was organized and calculated to prevent the slightest mishap, which is why her latest little misfire was going to be handled personally.

  While she already knew the money she was expected to make tonight, the fact of the matter was that she was still out five hundred large. Just that single thought made her choke on her own breath. With rage silently coursing through her veins, she vowed that whoever had her money may as well slit their own throat because they were as good as dead.

  That took her thoughts back to Albery. She knew where the man rested his head, who cooked his meals, the soap he used when he showered, and the flavor of his toothpaste. She knew Albery like the back of her right hand, and the very thing that she celebrated most happened to be his weakness—beautiful women. It was why he and his wife were now separated. It was why he chose to retire from his own company. It was why he moved from the city and to the quietness of the suburbs. It was also why he would pay thousands to keep his alternative lifestyle private. Chyna used those who were close to him, and those who knew him, to get what she needed to bring him down, because killing him flat-out was too easy. She wanted Albery to die a slow and painful death. And one that wouldn’t be missed.

  So when Chyna earned Albery’s business, she knew it was only a matter of time before she took back every penny her uncle ever put in his broke pockets—plus interest. But there was always the betrayal factor. Her uncle was serving three concurrent life sentences in the federal prison because his lawyer failed to deliver. So as the months went by, Chyna counted down the last days of Albery’s life in exchange for D’Troy’s. Then her uncle could carry out his sentence knowing that the person who helped put him there was dead.

  Chyna picked up her phone and dialed Fletch to see if he had any updates. Waiting for him to answer, she continued surfing the strip, daring to see one of her girls off the clock.

  “Dis dat nigga,” Fletch answered lively.

  “What you find out?” Chyna pressed.

  Fletch let out a long and exasperated sigh. “Shit. I mean, I been calling niggas and shit, trying to find out if anybody talking, and everybody playing dumb right now. Don’t nobody know nothin’.”

  Chyna meshed her lips together, tightening her jaws. That was the last thing she wanted to hear. “Well, if nobody’s talking, then you must not be giving them a reason to. Somebody knows where the fuck my money is! And I’m paying your ass to find that out!” Chyna was fuming inside. “This shit is making me look bad. Somebody rolling around this motherfucka laughing at me and you!” She wanted Fletch to understand that by him being her right hand, he was getting played too. She told him all kinds of things, psyching him up and playing him like one of her bitches. She needed him to have beef with whoever was behind this, as if it was his own money he got ran down for.

  “I’m gon’ find them niggas, Chyna. You ain’t gotta worry about that shit. ’Cause ain’t no motherfucka gon’ make Fletch look bad. I don’t give a fuck who that nigga is, how he roll, or what he roll!” he boasted, getting crunk off his own hype. He kissed the lips of his Beretta. “Pump fifteen in the nigga’s chest and make him feel blessed like a movie star. ’Cause he playing mighty nigga hero right now.” He laughed. Fletch thought that was funny. But when you were as high as he was, everything was funny. Even life in itself was a joke.

  Fletch was rolling heavy tonight. The Beretta in his lap wasn’t the only company he had tagging along. His boy Nike, who he often called on when it was time to put in work, was on his right, getting crunk off the same shit he was on.

  Nike bobbed his head to the lyrics of Foxx A Million as the twelves Fletch had shaking in the back brought out his thug persona. He dished out the gutter rap flow as fluent as a Sunday School Bible verse. Nike couldn’t contain himself. He was ready to get his feet wet again, and he didn’t give a damn about going back to jail because with the lick he was about to hit, his girl and his baby mama were going to be set for a while, at least until he finished his bid. “Yeah, we gon’ merk one of these niggas tonight,” Nike said, cocking his gun.

  Fletch relaxed in his seat, circling the steering wheel with the heel of his palm. “I’ll get back with you in like an hour,” he told Chyna, taking another pull off his Philly.

  Chyna checked her phone. It was a few minutes past the hour. “You do that,” she said before hanging up.

  * * *

  Rene sat waiting in the exact spot Chyna asked her to be in. She had gotten there by cab. This time, thank goodness, Chyna didn’t ask her to meet her on a railroad track like before. She waited just outside the Starbucks on Northwest Highway, reserving a small, round, brass table while watching the partygoers make their rounds through the crowded parking lot and over to the nightclub next door. The fellas that strolled past her like a car show clique, shortcutting through the coffee shop’s lot, tooted their horns as their spinning wheels competed for her attention. A few opted to stop, hoping to score a few pointers by spitting their preschool game as they showed off shining grills and bulky neck chains. Their twenty-inch tires were sitting as big as their egos.

  Chyna lowered her passenger window halfway, just enough so she could see Rene and Rene could see her. She sucked up every last bit of the image before pressing firmly on her horn.

  Rene looked up the second the horn blew, straining her eyes to be sure it was Chyna. She stood from her seat, slid her purse over her shoulder, and walked over to the black Jaguar. She got right in without having to be told.

  Chyna greeted her with a smile. “So, are we ready to have a little fun and make some more money?” she asked with a devilish grin.

  Rene pulled the seat belt around her. “I’m ready to do whatever I need to do so that Sand and I can move on from this,” she answered truthfully. She braced herself for the worst that could happen tonight.

  Chyna’s smile vanished. She had hoped for a much different response. Maybe one where Rene admitted that she liked the kind of money she was making and that she’d do whatever she needed to keep it coming. Even if it meant cancelling out her ex.

  Chyna sped out of the parking lot and in the direction of the Radisson Hotel. Almost an hour later, she and Rene were entering one of the beautiful suites she had reserved
.

  Rene followed only a few steps behind Chyna who had immediately made her way over to the mahogany table. Chyna placed the guitar case on the floor, right side up, and the other briefcase she carried she laid on the table and unsnapped it right away.

  Rene’s eyes didn’t miss a beat as she watched Chyna pull out a beautiful black negligee. “This is what you’re wearing tonight,” Chyna informed her.

  Rene could only imagine why. She eyed Chyna peculiarly, wondering so many things about the woman.

  “My client is very particular of what he wants to happen.” Chyna directed her eyes to Rene. “I’m sure you understand what I mean by that.” She smiled and pulled out a robe, slippers, oil, and condoms. “He likes to eat pussy more than he likes to fuck. So you’ll get a break from time to time,” Chyna continued. “Before his climax, he likes for you to shove two fingers in his ass.” She watched Rene’s face turn sour. “Last, but not least, he will finish off in your mouth.”

  Rene couldn’t stomach what she was hearing. The very thought going through her head was that Chyna was insane.

  Chyna strutted her long legs in Rene’s direction. “You’re in good hands,” she said, sounding like a protective guardian. “As long as I’m here, nothing will happen to you.” Chyna slid her finger gently down the left side of Rene’s face. She pulled back as Rene turned her head sideways, resisting her touch. Chyna’s hand then fell to her side. She handed Rene the briefcase. “The bathroom’s on the left,” she said, walking back over to the table.

  Rene quickly retreated to the bathroom, closed the door, and locked it. For that brief moment, she was alone. As she eased her clothes off, the unbearable guilt soaring through her entire body almost made her lose her balance. She balled her fists tightly as she stared at her naked silhouette. Tonight, her body no longer belonged to her.