Real Wifeys: Get Money

by Mink, Meesha

  I froze. I didn’t move. I didn’t fucking breathe.

  Suddenly I felt the cold metal of the gun against my temple. My guts twisted like a pretzel.

  “Suck my dick,” he said, tapping the barrel of the gun lightly against my temple near my eye. I closed my eyes just as a tear raced down my cheek.

  “Suck. My. Dick,” the dirty cop said again, unzipping his pants with his free hand.

  On the real? I thought that was one dick I would never see or feel or taste again.

  “The condom,” I said softly.

  He laughed like a lunatic and I jumped as he dented my cheek with the gun. “My fucking wife threw me out. It don’t fucking matter no more,” he said in this mad crazy sing-song tone that was straight out of a horror flick.

  My eyes darted around. The sun had fallen and it was dark. He was waiting for Goldie to leave the building. We were parked beneath a tree and it shadowed us from the streetlights. With the tint, someone would have to press their face to the window to see in.

  I lowered my head to his lap and the smell of unwashed crotch rose, making me gag as I used my hand to guide his dick into my mouth. I frowned at the salty taste of him. There was no way in hell this motherfucker washed in the last few days.

  I gagged at the back of my throat.

  He pressed the gun to the back of my head. “If you bite me, I will blow your fucking brains out,” he said, before he moaned in pleasure.

  As I sucked him, I felt like the scared and confused little six-year-old being taught to suck dick before my mouth could even open wide enough to take it. My tears fell blended with my slobber around my hand. I opened my eyes, and through my tears, I could see my handbag sitting there between his feet. My gun was so close and I couldn’t get to it.

  That shit made me cry even harder.

  “Oh shit. Oh yeah,” he moaned, pushing down on the back of my head, and he moved his hips back and forth. “Aaaahhhh.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut as his cum squirted against the back of my throat. I had to swallow it or choke. A little piece of me died on the inside. This could not be my life. NOT. MY. LIFE.

  I tried to lift my head, but the pressure of the gun kept it down, my mouth locked around his dick. I moaned at the disgusting taste of his semen and salty, dirty dick as my shoulders shook with my tears.

  He grabbed my hair, jerked my head up, and then pushed it against the driver’s-side window. Hard. “What the fuck are you crying for?” he asked, pressing the gun against my mouth.

  “You lost your job? Your reputation? The respect of your partner? Your family? Huh, you black cunt? Answer me?”

  I shifted my eyes down at the gun, scared as hell he was going to miss and shoot me while he was carrying on. I shook my head.

  He leaned over to press his face against mine. “Then shut the fuck up!” he screamed into my face before he dropped back in the passenger seat and tapped the gun against the passenger door. Tap-tap-tap.

  I used my shirt to spit out as much of the sticky cum as I could as quiet as I could. I side-eyed him. His eyes was closed. I shifted my eyes down to that gun.

  Tap-tap-tap.

  I shifted my eyes back up to him.

  If this crazy motherfucka missed and let that nut rock his ass to sleep, I was going to put a bullet through his head with either his gun or mine.

  Tap-tap-tap.

  I watched him, thinking hard. It was him or me, and I would deal with the consequences later.

  Tap-tap-tap.

  My eyes went to the driver’s-door latch. Or should I just jump out this bitch and run like hell?

  Tap-tap.

  My heart pounded like crazy as my eyes shot back to him and then down at the gun.

  Tap.

  I froze.

  His eyes were still closed and his mouth open. His breathing was slow as his chest rose and deflated nice and easily. His gun was a little slack in his hand.

  Another goddamn “what to do?” moment. I was having way too many of them lately. Run or grab the gun? My eyes shifted from the door handle, to the gun, to his face. Run or grab the gun?

  Run, Luscious, and run like hell, I decided.

  I eased my heels off as I reached out slowly for the door lock. I wouldn’t have long to hit the bitch and grab the handle to open the door wide enough to get out before he had a chance to wake up and fire his gun.

  “One, two, three,” I mouthed, getting myself ready.

  I hit the door lock.

  BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!

  “What the fuck?” Detective Dick sat up with his gun pointed at me as someone pounded on the door window.

  “So now you sitting outside my house stalking me, bitch!”

  It felt like my spirit and my shoulders dropped damn near to my knees as I looked up at Goldie banging on the driver’s-side window.

  “So you want some more, bitch. Get at me,” she shouted, her spit spraying the glass.

  “Lower the fucking window,” he said.

  I closed my eyes as Goldie kept carrying on. He pressed the gun to the back of my head. “Lower . . . the . . . window.”

  I reached out and did as he said, revealing Goldie’s angry face inch by inch as the tinted window lowered.

  “You dumb—”

  Her words froze and her gold eyes got big as shit as he pointed the gun across my face and square on her forehead. “Just the bitch I been waiting for. I’m Detective Jon Rossi. No, nope. My fucking bad. I’m not a detective no more. You made sure of that with your political johns, right?”

  I looked up at Goldie’s eyes and saw that what he said was true. Goldie had pulled more of her strings to get him fired for what he did to me.

  Damn.

  “I think it’s time the three of us took a little ride.”

  The whole time I drove the car, Detective Dick drank his liquor with one hand and kept his gun pointed at my head with the other. Talk about a scared bitch? My eyes shifted up to the rearview mirror to look at Goldie sitting in the backseat with her hands on the headrest the way he told her.

  “Too bad you sucked my dick until I came. We coulda had a ménage,” he said.

  I was too embarrassed that he revealed that. Even in the face of danger, I was thinking Now what the fuck is his purpose?

  “I would need a little time to build up the juices to have enough to spread between you two bitches, but you’ll probably be dead by then.”

  Me and Goldie’s eyes met in the rearview mirror.

  We gonna die.

  She squinted her eyes and then shook her head no.

  We will not die tonight.

  “Turn down this alley,” he said, motioning with his bottle of liquor.

  I did like he said, but I was looking around for anything in the area that might be open. A store. An apartment building that wasn’t abandoned. Cars passing by.

  Any fucking thing.

  But all I saw was absolutely nothing popping on the whole block.

  This shit looked like a mini ghost town.

  Perfect place to kill—and then leave—dead bodies.

  “Park by that Dumpster,” he said, motioning with the gun.

  The alley was tight. Not more than fifteen feet across the two abandoned buildings that had been completely destroyed by fire. The darkness was broken up by a flickering streetlight and I could barely make out a fence that dead-ended the alley. A fence that seemed to be a good seven or eight feet high.

  My eyes went back to the rearview mirror and Goldie was already looking at me. This shit didn’t look good at all.

  I slowed the car to a stop. My nerves made me slam on the brakes too hard and our bodies lurched forward.

  WHAP!

  I didn’t even see that backhand coming until just before it landed across my mouth. I cried out even as I tasted the blood. Son of a bitch.

  “Dumb fucking cunt,” he spat, actually spraying my face with his spit. “Get out the car. Put your hands on your nappy-ass head and stand in front of the car.”

>   I opened the car door, moving slowly, and plit-plotting like a motherfucker. As I stood there, my eyes shifted to look down the alley. Past the car. To the street. To freedom.

  All I had to do was run as fast as I could and then scream as soon as I spotted someone.

  No . . . no, all I really had to do was run . . . and leave Goldie behind.

  But I couldn’t do that.

  “Move, bitch!” he said, poking the barrel of the gun into my lower back.

  I put my hands on my head and walked to the front of the car, the headlights on me like a spotlight on a stage. I watched as he pressed the gun to Goldie’s head as she released the lever to move the seat forward. She climbed out and pressed her hands against her hair as he trained the gun on her even through the glass.

  “First chance we get, we are going to take this fool out,” Goldie said, barely moving her lips.

  “I’m ready to fight, because I damn sure ain’t ready to die,” I whispered as he climbed out the car with the gun in his right hand and already pointed at us through the open door.

  “You strapped?” I asked.

  “No,” she said. “You?”

  “No.”

  “Shuddafuckup!” he shouted.

  POW!

  I literally heard the bullet whizzing past in the small space between our heads. We both hollered out and ducked down.

  He laughed like a maniac. “Don’t worry, you ain’t dead yet. I got other games for you to play before I make you bitches regret fucking with me,” he said, still laughing as he staggered backward, pressing his back to the brick wall right below faded graffiti of a gun with “187” in the background. I learned from Snoop Dogg that 187 was a police code for murder. The irony of that shit wasn’t funny.

  “Now beg me not to kill you,” he said, all laughter gone as he tilted his head to the side to look at us.

  “I can do better than that,” I said, slowly lowering my hands.

  He straightened his arm and turned the gun sideways, aimed at my chest. “Careful, bitch!”

  I started to pull my tank over my head. “I can’t hide anything if I’m naked,” I said, tossing the shirt onto the hood.

  He licked his lip.

  My lace bra followed.

  His eyes dipped down to take in my breasts.

  “I can do just as good,” Goldie said beside me, taking off her top and bra to toss onto the hood.

  His eyes went from her body to mine as we undressed for this fool. “Damn, you black bitches look good. Neither one of ya like pussy hairs, huh?”

  We both stood there in nothing but our heels.

  “See, nothing to hide,” I said, raising my hands high above my head as I turned slowly. Goldie also turned.

  We eyed each other. Let’s get this motherfucker.

  I faced him and jumped in surprise to see him already sitting on the hood with his dick out his pants. What the fuck? I knew right then his slick ass wasn’t as drunk as I thought.

  “Now, we’re sorry,” I said softly, stepping forward to stroke his dick. “Right, Goldie?”

  She stepped up with a smile I knew was fake as she stroked his thigh and brought his free hand up to press against her full ass. “Yes, I am so sorry, Daddy,” she said, soft as hell.

  His dick got even harder in my hand. “You bitches gone make me cum all over myself,” he said, pressing the gun into the soft flesh of my gut.

  I gasped like it pleasured me instead of scared the shit out of me. I held his dick tighter. “So if we take care good care of you, we can go?” I asked.

  “Shut up,” he snapped, like he had a reason to be irritated. “I’m trying to figure out which one sucks and which one fucks.”

  Goldie made a face as she eyed his short, fat dick.

  My eyes shot to his face. Damn. I knew he saw her. This asshole could not take rejection. At all.

  “You got a problem, bitch?” he asked, backhanding her across the face.

  WHAP!

  Goldie’s body twisted around from the force of his blow.

  He twisted the gun to point it at her.

  Shit!

  “No!” I shouted, punching him in his exposed nuts hard as fuck.

  “Fucking no-good, cunt-ass bitch,” he roared, bending over in pain.

  POW!

  The bullet went into the wall, causing chunks of brick to fly.

  I grabbed his wrist and fought to push his arm up high in the air. He recovered and grabbed my throat with his free hand.

  Goldie stormed over with titties swinging to pummel his face and stomach with blows. “Motherfuckin’ dirty-ass-cop,” she muttered as she swung out on his ass.

  As soon as he freed my throat I turned and lifted my leg to jam my knee down on his hanging nuts again.

  “Fucking bitches are jumpin’ me,” he screamed at the top of his lungs.

  POW!

  The gun fired up into the air and we both froze to see if one of us got shot. Dumb-ass move with the gun pointed to the sky. Dumb, wrong-ass move.

  He rammed his elbow down on the top of my head so hard I thought he snapped my neck. I stumbled back on my heels and fell against the funky, grimy Dumpster that he probably planned to dump our dead bodies in.

  Goldie grabbed his wrist and bit that motherfucker. Hard.

  The gun fell from his hand and landed between her feet as he used both his hands to box Goldie like she was a man.

  “Kick the gun by your foot, Goldie!” I screamed.

  He slapped her but she looked down and then kicked the gun toward me.

  It spiraled like a top on the ground and I lunged for it, just as he pushed Goldie’s naked body out the way and stepped forward to get it. I rolled over onto my side with that bitch in my hands just as Goldie jumped on his back and started punching him all about the head.

  “Move, Goldie,” I screamed at the top of my lungs, aiming for his head.

  He kept coming. “You ain’t got the balls, bitch!”

  Goldie kept fighting him.

  Shit. The bullet could go through both of them.

  I lowered the gun and aimed for his dick just as he reared his foot back to kick me.

  POW!

  Blood and flesh splattered against my face.

  “You . . . black . . . bitch . . .”

  Goldie finally jumped down off his back.

  He took another step and I raised the gun to a spot just between his eyes.

  POW!

  I closed my eyes as his blood and brains sprayed out the back of his head against the hood of my car, our clothes, the wall, and Goldie’s body.

  We both screamed as his body slumped to the ground like the deadweight that motherfucker was.

  I let the gun and my head fall to the ground as I struggled to get air in my lungs and calm to my nerves.

  Detective Dick learned the same lesson about revenge that I had. His dead body was lying in that hole he thought he dug for me and Goldie.

  Epilogue

  Three Months Later

  We didn’t get charged for the dirty cop’s murder. We didn’t even know if anybody found his body yet. Never heard a thing about it. Lord knows, I was all over the news waiting for the story to break and for our asses to get locked up. Especially me. I shot the gun. I killed him.

  That night Goldie told me not to worry about it. Maybe it was another one of her favors from her powerful list of clients. Maybe it was karma. I didn’t know. I was just grateful because there wasn’t a damn thing about me cut out for life behind bars.

  But what I did know, what I couldn’t deny, was the fact that if we didn’t pull together he would’ve killed both of us instead of it being the other way around. Two enemies had to stick together to make it out alive.

  Just like we had to put the body in the Dumpster, burn our clothes, and toss the gun in the river.

  It’s funny, after all the shooting I did at the range, I still won’t ever be ready for blowing a motherfucker’s head off. It’s been three months and I still have n
ightmares about it, waking up shaking and shit and thinking I’m covered in his blood.

  That thing I had to swallow the most was just how right Michel had been. I never saw my enemy coming because my attention was locked on my own revenge. I was so ashamed that even in the face of danger I was ready to hand Goldie over to the bastard who tormented me. Even after knowing she saved my ass from those drug charges. Damn near got both of us killed. Revenge didn’t get me anywhere but damn near in my grave.

  I was young and still learning, but I would never forget the lesson of forgiveness.

  Me and Goldie, we ain’t friends. Too much shit done went down between us. It was fucked up what she did with Make$ but twice she had the chance to completely destroy me and she didn’t do it. Not with my arrest for drug charges and not with the murder of that cop. Both times she saved me from jail. How the fuck could I hate her after that? I’d have to be psycho to still hold a grudge. And now I realize I wasn’t doing a damn thing but hurting myself. So I gave her the BlackBerry back.

  Michel and Eve forgave me for kicking they crazy asses to the curb while I was on Mission: Destroy Goldie. Yummy Entertainment was back as strong as ever, just like our friendship. The Three Musketeers. Fuck with us.

  I was working on my issues with my parents, especially my father, but I loved them and I would never turn my back on them completely. I just went back to the way things were. See you when I see you!

  I wasn’t ready to forgive Mr. Alvarez, but I think anyone could understand that.

  I didn’t work for Goldie anymore on the booking agency side. Didn’t have a clue if she was still a madam, but I wouldn’t doubt it considering not a damn thing changed about her and Has’s lifestyle.

  Yep, Goldie and Has was still going strong. I heard they did get married in the Bahamas, with their best friends at they side. I couldn’t do shit but wish them the best and leave them to their lives.

  Besides, I had my own to live and I felt like I was finally ready to stop doing it alone. I was ready to finally try something different.

  “Baby, you ready?”

  I turned on the balcony of our suite in the Bahamas, knowing I looked good in my bikini, as I looked at Jamal, Mr. Grown and Sexy, standing there in his swim trunks, holding out his hand to me. I smiled as I took it and let him lead me out the suite to finish our weeklong vacation.