Every so often, folks wanted to rent out my place for exclusive, all-night parties and that’s when I really raked in the dough.
Of course, O’Grady always got his cut. His bribes and kickbacks were already costing me a fortune, but when his greedy behind started demanding an even higher percentage of my exclusive parties, I had to draw the line. It was to the point where O’Grady was making damn near as much as I was without investing one red cent into the business.
So, I finally stood up to him, which was a big mistake on my part. That ornery son of a bitch sent two paddy wagons and three squad cars to my place. Those coppers didn’t merely kick the door in—no, sir, they showed me they meant business by tearing down the door with axes and sledgehammers.
I would have opened the door for them, but that would have deprived them of the fun of raiding the place. Oh, how those boys enjoyed causing a ruckus: blowing on their whistles, kicking over furniture, and smashing lamps with their billy clubs. Whores were running naked through the place, screaming and stampeding toward the back door. The tricks, holding shoes and a pile of clothing in their arms, were climbing out windows and huddling together on the rooftop.
Those coppers loved creating mayhem. Grinning with malicious delight, they collected the fleeing whores and chained us all together as they hauled us off to the county jail.
Believe me when I tell you that jail is not a place for a woman to be.
Mr. Banner tried to use his money and influence to get me out, but those honkies made me do a fourteen-day stint before they gave me bail. Though some may think two weeks isn’t a lot of time, it was too goddamn long for me. I’ll tell you something: when my court date came around, I was scared shitless that the judge was going to send me upstate and make me do some hard prison time. I was nervous, but I didn’t let it show. I pulled up at the courthouse in my Cadillac. I was glamorous as a movie star when I strutted inside the courtroom wearing dark sunglasses and wrapped up in a full-length mink coat. Pictures of me were splattered on the front pages of all the Negro newspapers in and around the Philadelphia area. I was notorious, honey!
It turned out the judge was a regular at my place, and I got off with only a slap on the wrist. But in order to continue running my establishment, I had to give in to O’Grady’s demands. Lord, how I despised that man. My hatred festered inside me to the point where all I could think about was getting revenge on him.
First of all, he had ruined the life of my best girl, Sophronia. It hurt when I had to run her off my property when she was hiding behind bushes, trying to secretly solicit my customers as they entered and exited the premises. According to gossip, she was offering to suck a dick for fifty cents and would suck off an entire party of men for two measly dollars.
My heart went out to Sophronia, but I was a businesswoman, and I couldn’t have her skulking about my property, harassing customers while looking like death warmed over. It didn’t take much to run Sophronia off. All I had to do was threaten to come outside and whoop the living daylights out of her. But there were times when that heroin habit of hers had her feeling brave. At those times she’d get right stubborn and ornery, and would refuse to carry her ass off my property. Whenever she got out of hand and refused to skedaddle, I was forced to come outside and scald her with a bucket of hot water. I didn’t like treating Sophronia so harshly, but it was the only way to get rid of her junkie ass.
Besides Sophronia getting on my nerves, there was O’Grady. That man was a monster and it seemed he lived and breathed to make my life miserable. When he started raiding my place on a weekly basis, he left me no choice but to find a way to get rid of him.
• • •
If I had to hear my grandmother admit to committing a heinous murder, I was sure I wouldn’t be able to sleep peacefully, so I turned off the recording. Before I knew it, I was in dreamland.
“What are you doing home so early, baby?” Maverick’s deep voice entered my dream and gently pulled me out. I yawned and stretched and then sat up and smiled at him.
“I had a short day at the studio,” I said, inhaling a whiff of something that smelled wonderfully spicy. “Is Tamara here already?”
“Yeah, she’s been here for over an hour.”
I glanced at the clock. It was after six, and I was surprised I’d slept for so long. I was also disappointed that I hadn’t gotten an opportunity to talk to Tamara in private before Maverick came home.
“Listening to your grandma’s tapes?” he asked, gesturing toward the old-fashioned tape player on the nightstand.
“Yes. I miss her and listening to her voice, hearing her talk about the good old days makes it seem like she’s still here.”
Maverick nodded in understanding. He had no idea that Grandma Eula Mae had been a notorious madam in her heyday. He was only aware of her culinary skills and how she’d cook for and hosted numerous civil rights activists at her restaurant and put them up in the hotel she ran for colored travelers in need of lodging.
“Listen, babe. I, uh…” Maverick hesitated as a slow smile crept across his face.
“What’s the smile for?” He looked so cute and kissable, I couldn’t help from smiling, too.
“Tamara brought an assistant with her tonight.”
Instantly pissed, I scowled and folded my arms across my chest. “That’s presumptuous of her. Fuck if we’re paying for a goddamn assistant. No one gave her permission to bring extra help.”
“Calm down; it was my idea. I was joking around with Kevin Berenbaum at the station today and he mentioned that back when his wife was his chef, she used to bring a helper with her from time to time.”
“But it’s not as if we’re having a big dinner party. Why does Tamara require a sous chef to cook a simple dinner for two people?”
Maverick and I had been more than generous with Tamara, and it annoyed me that she was trying to squeeze more money out of us.
“Before you blow up, let me explain.” Maverick spoke in a calm tone as if I were a loose cannon, apt to explode at any moment.
Matching his calm tone, I said, “Okay, explain.”
“Kevin’s wife and her kitchen helper used to put on a novelty act during the meal…if you catch my drift.” He raised his brows twice, suggesting that the novelty act was something salacious.
I’d had an idea of my own—a novelty act that I wanted Tamara to perform—but Maverick looked so excited about whatever our chef and the kitchen helper had plotted, I supposed I could put my plan on the back burner for now.
“I hope Tamara’s helper is discreet. The last thing we need is for someone to sneak and take pics of us and post them on Instagram. Did you confiscate the bitch’s phone?”
Maverick looked appalled by the suggestion. “No, I didn’t take her phone. What do I look like, the head of security for Drake or Chris Brown? I printed a copy of our confidentiality clause and she signed it.”
“Okay, but can you give me an idea of what the novelty act consists of?”
“I’m not sure, but you should put on something comfortable—and no panties.” He winked at me as if a mere hint of a naughty surprise should have excited me.
I wasn’t excited in the least. Having my cooch eaten by a woman was more of an annoyance than a turn-on. I spread my legs for bitches purely for Maverick’s enjoyment. Sure, my body reacted when a carpet muncher was trying to suck a nut out of me, but as far as my emotional needs went, I preferred feeling my husband’s strong arms gripping my shoulders while forcefully plunging dick into me.
After Maverick left the bedroom, I turned on the shower. In no rush for the novelty act, I deliberately took my time, letting the water jets pummel my shoulders and back while I closed my eyes and imagined my favorite fantasy: me standing on the stage, wiping away tears as I accepted my Emmy.
CHAPTER 22
I entered the dining room, wearing a black-and-white Givenchy dress tha
t had an ethnic look about it. I felt like an African queen about to hold court.
Maverick sat at his place at the dining room table, and I took a seat at the opposite end. Tamara emerged from the kitchen, pushing a serving cart. Behind her was the most ratchet-looking bitch I’d ever seen. The little thot was carrying a silver tray with a bottle of wine and two monogrammed crystal wineglasses. She was rocking a sparkly bustier and a super-short, tight skirt. Her seven-inch heels were leopard-print and had fringes dangling around the ankles. I frowned at her fingernails that were shaped like sharp daggers with multiple colors and designs.
Unbelievably tacky, she had to be a stripper. She looked like she’d been yanked straight off the pole of one of the sleaziest strip clubs in town. Her ass was so humongous, there was no way it was real. Her nasty-looking ass had to be the result of butt implants or ass injections. I would bet money that the ho was all over YouTube grinning at the camera while twerking and throwing that big ass around in complete circles.
My eyes scrolled up to her weave and I blinked in revulsion. Her hair, a pale shade of green with lavender, pink, and gold streaks running through it, was an assault to my eyes. She looked vile and unclean, like she was full of STDs. She looked like the kind of girl whose pussy smelled like ass.
“Hey, y’all! We up in this bitch with the food and wine,” the stripper announced, bouncing her shoulders, and wiggling her ass like she was the featured entertainment at a bachelors’ party.
It was embarrassing to imagine this gutter slut entering my exclusive apartment building and announcing that she’d come to visit Maverick and me. I shuddered to think about how offended our concierge must have been by our skanky guest.
I shot Maverick a murderous look. He returned my look with a dumb expression, like he didn’t understand what my problem was.
Astounded that Maverick and Tamara would think it was okay to invite such ghetto-trash into a fine and decent home, I swiveled and gawked at both of them.
But neither met my gaze; both pretended that it was perfectly normal for Tamara to have an assistant that looked like she missed the cut for Love & Hip Hop.
Tamara cleared her throat. “Cori, this is Heavenly.”
I groaned inwardly. Of course, she would have a stripper name. I felt appalled and annoyed and personally violated that someone named Heavenly was in my presence and was actually standing in the dining room of my sumptuous apartment.
“Hi, Cori,” Heavenly said, grinning. From her confident smile and the way she dragged out the word, “hi,” I could tell that Heavenly thought she was the shit.
I didn’t bother to return her greeting. Instead, I addressed my husband. “Did Heavenly sign her stripper name or did she use her government name on the confidentiality agreement?”
“She used her real name,” Maverick responded. Embarrassed by my sarcasm, his eyes darted downward.
Taking me totally off guard, Heavenly shot across the dining room and slammed the silver tray on the table. The crystal glasses clattered loudly against the wine bottle. Startled, my body involuntarily jerked in alarm.
“Yo, bitch, don’t be talking trash about me and acting like I ain’t even standing here. If you got a question about me, then ask me. I don’t need your husband or no-fucking-body else to speak for me.”
The nasally tone of her voice grated on my nerves, not to mention her grammar. “She’s a novelty act, indeed,” I said, speaking pointedly to Maverick. “I want this tacky chick out of here!”
“Who you calling ‘tacky’? Fuck you, you dumb bitch, acting like you better than somebody. Bitch, please,” Heavenly squawked in her annoying voice.
I gawked at Maverick and Tamara. “Are either of you going to do something?”
“You’re overreacting, Cori,” Maverick said with a stupid smile that I wanted to slap off his face. “You and Heavenly got off on the wrong foot, that’s all.”
I couldn’t believe that my husband was actually taking up for a ho that was disrespecting me in my own home. I was about to curse him out when Heavenly suddenly moved into my personal space. She bent over, positioning herself so that her face was only inches from mine.
“Don’t start with me, bitch. I don’t appreciate being called out of my name. Just because you on TV, shit don’t make you better than me.” Looking around the room, she smirked and said, “You got ahead in life when you lucked up and sucked the right athlete’s dick.”
Appalled, I gasped. “You better get the fuck out of my face!” I pushed my chair back, putting a little distance between us.
“And you better watch that smart-ass mouth of yours…don’t be talking shit about me,” Heavenly clapped back.
“I want her off the premises this instant,” I yelled at the top of my lungs.
“Cori! Babe, calm down,” Maverick said.
“No, I’m not calming down. I want this clown bitch out of my home.” At that point I stood up and to my utter shock, Heavenly pushed me back down.
“We about to have a problem, you bougie bitch. Even though this is your crib, you can’t insult me and expect to get a pass.” Heavenly dug her sharpened nails into my shoulder.
“Ow!” I tried to squirm out of her clutch, but she was clawing me with her dagger nails, holding me in place. It was a natural reaction to swing my fist at her in defense.
To my horror, she reacted by grabbing the wine bottle from the table and wielded it like a weapon. “I told you not to start with me, bitch. Put your hands on me again and I’ma crack you in the face.”
Maverick wasn’t doing a damn thing. He was sitting there gawking as if mesmerized. To get Heavenly off me, I picked up the glass of ice water from in front of me and tossed the water in her face. The shock of the cold water caused her to loosen her grip. I jumped out of my chair and rushed her, going for the weave and trying my best to yank that rainbow-colored bullshit clean out of her head.
The pain of her tracks being ripped out of her scalp disabled her. I was about to beat that bitch’s ass when Maverick decided to jump into the fray. Somehow he managed to get her weave out of my fists. Tamara grabbed Heavenly, holding her back, while Maverick held me.
Heavenly struggled to break Tamara’s hold. “Get off me, Tamara. Let me go. I’ma beat that bum-bitch’s ass.”
Being called a bum-bitch by a broke-ass trick caused me to flinch, but I recovered quickly. “Try to beat my ass! You’re not going to do shit, you thirsty bitch.” I had come down to her level, and I didn’t care. “I can’t believe I’m breathing the same air as a disgusting prostitute like you,” I shouted with my face twisted in disgust.
“It’s true. I be out here chasing dick to pay the rent. I do what I gotta do to pay my bills, but you need to look at your own damn self, before pointing a finger at me. I was invited here to get in a situation with your husband, so tell me…what does that say about you? I wouldn’t even be up in this piece if it wasn’t for your dry-ass pussy with no walls and no type of grip.”
Her accusations about my cooch were a goddamn lie, and I reacted with a straight face—I didn’t bat an eye. “Listen, stank ho…I’m asking you nicely to please leave the premises. Go twerk that fake ass on some other man because you are not touching my husband!”
Heavenly let out a bitter laugh. “Everybody got a little ho in ’em, so don’t act like you don’t. I bet you hoeing for the network to get ratings for your corny show. I wonder who you had to smash to get your face on TV.”
“Be quiet, Heavenly,” Tamara said, giving her a hard yank. “I think we should leave.”
“You think?” I shouted mockingly. “You no longer work for us, Tamara, so take your hooker friend with you and get the fuck out!”
“It’s not Tamara’s fault,” Maverick said, still holding me.
“I don’t care. Her employment is terminated as of right the fuck now!”
“I ain’t going nowher
e ’til I get my coins,” Heavenly yelled in a high screechy voice. “If y’all want me to roll, then somebody better pay me for my time.”
With every fiber of my being, I wanted to fight that bitch, but I had to walk away from this one. It wasn’t worth it. I had a show to tape and couldn’t risk turning up at work with my face scratched up. Clayton would have fainted on the spot if he were tasked with the job of having to patch up my clawed face with makeup.
“Pay that whore and get her out of here,” I told Maverick, and then jerked away from him. With all the dignity I could muster, I held my head high, and exited the dining room.
• • •
I sat on a chair in the bedroom, seething. Being married to a sexual deviant wasn’t easy, but I’d done my best to keep my husband happy, but this time, Maverick had pushed me to my limit. Maverick and his whoring ways were going to be the ruination of the wholesome image I’d carefully crafted for us.
I glanced at the time and felt myself growing angrier. Why was it taking him so long to pay the bitch and get rid of her? I stood up, intending to find out why that stank ho was still on the premises. But I only managed a few steps toward the door before Maverick entered the bedroom, looking guilty. I wondered if he’d tried to get his money’s worth by getting a quickie before the bitch bounced.
“Has Tamara and the stripper left, yet?”
He nodded.
“How much did you pay the ho?”
“Five hundred.”
“Some novelty act,” I said snidely, shaking my head as I repeated his terminology.
“We were supposed to have a good time. I had no idea she would go from zero to a hundred so fast.”
“That’s how those crack babies act. What were you thinking when you invited that trash to our residence? Don’t you realize that hood rats like her don’t care anything about a confidentiality agreement? She’ll post a picture up on Instagram without a second thought. What does she have to lose? If you were to sue her, what would you get? Nothing except a bunch of bad press. We can’t afford a scandal, Mav. I can’t understand why you’d flirt with disaster.”
Power Couple Page 16