Uptown Thief

by Aya De León

  Woof began to snore. Carefully, Tyesha climbed out of bed, but the motion of the water turned him over onto his back.

  She climbed back into the bed and planted him firmly on his side, arranging him to stay put. But as she got out of the water bed, it sloshed him onto his back again. She kept wrestling him onto his side, but he rolled back each time she got up.

  She called Marisol and explained the situation. “What should I do?”

  “You can’t leave,” Marisol said. “Picture the headline? ‘Rapper Thug Woofer found dead—police seeking three escorts.’ ”

  “But I have a midterm tomorrow at ten,” Tyesha said. “I need to pull an all-nighter.”

  “Did you bring your books?”

  “I was studying on the train ride over.”

  “So pull your all-nighter there,” Marisol said.

  “I want a bonus for this,” Tyesha said.

  “Time and a half,” Marisol agreed, and they hung up.

  Tyesha tiptoed out into the darkened living room to get her book bag out of the bottom of the liquor boxes. While she was at it, she raided the fridge. Only beer, orange juice, and energy drinks. Tyesha grabbed four cans of Ramp Up! and crept back into the bedroom.

  Chapter 10

  After she left, Kim and Jody popped up from the couch.

  “Did she see us?” Kim whispered. “Marisol would kill us for getting our freak on here.”

  “I don’t think Tyesha saw,” Jody said, “but we’d better get down on the floor, just in case.”

  Kim chuckled. “Always looking for an excuse to get down on the floor.”

  Kim lay back and Jody straddled her, sliding her hands up under the black lingerie to caress Kim’s breasts.

  “Was he any good?” Jody whispered.

  “He thought so.” Kim stifled a giggle.

  “Mine hadn’t been with anyone but his fiancée in years,” Jody said. “She may be black, but she was keeping it vanilla in bed. I pulled a few prostate tricks. Knocked him right out.”

  “My guy, too,” Kim said. “I left him sleeping like a baby. All that booze they drank didn’t hurt, either.” She leaned in and gave Jody an openmouthed kiss. “When I was with him, I was definitely wishing it was your hands, your lips, your body.”

  “My guy had a decent-size dick,” Jody said. “I wanted to ask him, hey, can I borrow that for a minute after we’re done?”

  Kim laughed, and Jody shushed her.

  “Sorry. I was just thinking you’d know better than him what to do with it. Did you bring any toys?”

  “No room in the boxes with all of Tyesha’s books. But I did bring ten fingers and a tongue.”

  Jody ran her tongue in circles around Kim’s nipples and then began to lick them in earnest, as she traced her fingers down into her panties.

  “Are you wet for me or for him?” Jody asked.

  “I took a shower afterward, so what do you think?”

  Jody slid her finger up and down.

  “I want you to tell me,” she encouraged.

  Kim moaned.

  “It’s okay, baby.” Jody smiled. “You can tell me.”

  Kim pulled a pillow off the couch and bit into it to contain the noise of her moans.

  Jody kissed both of Kim’s breasts, the crests of her ribs, her belly, working her way down between Kim’s thighs.

  Jody opened Kim’s lips, and after a moment of soft licking alternated with firm fingers, Jody asked again, “Who’re you wet for, baby?”

  “You,” Kim gasped.

  “Tell me again,” Jody said, thrusting four fingers inside Kim, but keeping her thumb on the clitoris still rubbing insistently.

  “All you, baby,” Kim whimpered. “Oh—you! All you.”

  And then Kim proceeded to rip the seam on the couch pillow with her teeth, as she tried to keep quiet amidst the intense bucking of her orgasm.

  Afterward, Kim and Jody lay on the couch.

  “I love you,” Kim said, stroking Jody’s face.

  “I love you, too.” Jody leaned in and kissed her softly.

  “Maybe one of these days you’ll let me do you after a hard day at work.”

  “Not a chance.” Jody shook her head. “I get off making you get off. You can do me on nights when it’s just the two of us, start to finish. Not on work nights.”

  “Speaking of work,” Kim said.

  “I know,” Jody agreed. “Let’s case this place so we can go home.”

  * * *

  Tyesha didn’t understand why Marisol had her looking for Thug Woofer’s safe. Still, it was exciting to snoop around a superstar’s apartment.

  She tiptoed through the rooms, feeling the walls in the dim light and reaching behind framed posters of him.

  Woof had the predictable rugged good looks of a rap star. In one image, he had his shirt off, showing his chiseled chest and abs above his boxers and low-slung belt.

  On top of his bureau was a photograph of him hugging a thickset black woman in front of a modest, single-story house with a giant red bow on it. The woman was crying and grinning. Woof grinned, too, and his eyes were closed. He seemed to be sinking into the hug. Tyesha was surprised at how handsome he looked. Not glamorous, just a regular guy with a great smile, and kind of sweet. How had he gone from that cutie in the photo to the drunken dick on the bed next door?

  * * *

  As she met up with Kim and Jody in the living room, she chuckled to see Kim adjusting her bra.

  “I searched the whole master bedroom suite,” Tyesha said.

  Kim and Jody reported finding nothing in both guys’ bedrooms, as the three of them pulled out pen flashlights. They found nothing behind any of the framed albums in the living room. They crept down the central hallway of the apartment, peeking behind pictures.

  There was a total of five doors in the hallway. They could account for all of them, except a door to the right of the bathroom, recessed slightly into the hallway. Kim tried the doorknob, but it didn’t open.

  “Okay, Lock Whisperer,” Tyesha said. “Do your stuff.”

  Tyesha had given Kim the nickname. Even before she’d started to work with Marisol, Kim had been able to open locks and hot-wire cars. Kim knelt at the door and pulled out her lockpicks.

  Jody shone the flashlight beam on the doorknob.

  Kim was inserting the pick when they heard a noise from farther up the hallway. Jody snapped off the light and they all froze.

  One of the bedroom doors opened, and Brandon shuffled groggily down the hallway toward them. Barely breathing, the three women stood in the slightly recessed alcove only a foot deep. As he approached, they tensed.

  Brandon went into the bathroom. When the door closed, the women caught their breath. They heard the seat clack up and the sound of the stream into the toilet bowl.

  Jody pulled forward as if to move back into the living room, but Tyesha caught her arm.

  “Boys are quick,” she whispered. “Stay put.”

  The three of them stood flattened against the wall.

  Brandon opened the door and went back to bed.

  “He didn’t even flush or put the seat back down,” Jody said.

  “I pity the fiancée,” Tyesha said, as Kim got back to work.

  “Ooh, that close call got my adrenaline pumping,” Jody said. “Hurry up so I can get you home.” She tangled her fingers in Kim’s hair.

  Kim gave Jody a quick kiss on her pelvic bone. “Later, babe, I’m working.”

  “Calm the fuck down and focus,” Tyesha said as Jody ran her finger along Kim’s ear.

  “Don’t distract me,” Kim hissed, and then the lock clicked.

  The three of them entered what was apparently Thug Woofer’s study, a wood-paneled room, where the recessed door had made space for a bookcase. The safe’s dial was clearly visible on the wall behind the desk.

  “A Muscle Man safe,” Kim said. “My favorite.”

  “Wait,” Tyesha said, sliding a fingernail underneath the edge of the door. �
�It’s not locked.” She swung the safe’s door open with her nail.

  The only thing inside was a half-empty bottle of expensive Scotch.

  * * *

  In the morning Woof blinked a few times, looking disoriented. “Who the fuck are you?” he asked Tyesha.

  Clients never recognized her with her ponytail and glasses, especially not reading a book.

  “From last night.” Tyesha shook her chest facetiously, and recognition dawned in his face. “You okay?” she asked.

  Woof lifted his head and groaned. He winced as he rolled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom.

  Tyesha packed up her books. She’d gotten a lot done, but now it was time to go home, take a shower, and do a final review of her flash cards before the exam.

  Woof stepped out of the bathroom with a condom packet in his hand.

  “Where’d we leave off last night?” he asked, biting the end of the package and tearing it open. “I know you stayed to get some of this.” He began to unbuckle his belt.

  “Woof,” Tyesha said. “I stayed because I didn’t want you to choke on your own vomit. You passed out. Now you’re awake and safe and I’m leaving.”

  “Wait a minute,” he said. “I paid my money.”

  “You paid for three strippers and a private party last night. The party’s over.”

  “But I paid for some pussy,” he said.

  “You paid for some time,” she said. “And the time is over.”

  “Fine,” he said and began to look around for his wallet. “How much more do you want?”

  “I’m an escort, Woof. That means you call the agency. I don’t work for cash. I shouldn’t even be here. I just wanted to make sure you woke up breathing.”

  “You worried about me?” He smiled.

  “Woof, this is business.”

  “Fine,” Woof said, pulling out a credit card. “If you an escort, who do I call to get you to suck my dick right now?”

  “Nobody,” Tyesha said. “I’m not available today.”

  “You don’t even know how much I’m willing to pay,” Woof said.

  “If you wanna set up another date with me, have your guy call the agency and ask for me—Candi Jones.”

  “Girl, what’s your real name?”

  “Candi Jones is all you need to know.” Tyesha smiled. “Have your guy call if you’ve got a jones for more candy.” She pulled her bag onto her shoulder and walked to the door.

  “Probably gonna see some rich guy who like early morning pussy,” Woof said. “Can’t keep yo sugar daddy waiting for a nigga like me, huh? I bet he’s white.”

  “I have a midterm, and I been here all night, watching over your drunk ass.” She cocked her bag up higher on her shoulder and put a hand on her hip. “You wake up demanding pussy because you passed out last night? This is bullshit. You know what? Don’t call the agency. I wouldn’t fuck your no-home-training ass for a truckload of money.”

  Chapter 11

  The Monday after the three girls did the call, Thug Woofer’s manager began calling Marisol. “My guy wants to hire Candi Jones again,” his voice-mail message said.

  Marisol called back from a cab en route to a breakfast meeting. “Your guys were satisfied with the service?”

  “Sure. Woof wants to see Candi Jones again.”

  “She’s not available, but I’ve got other black girls, equally charming. How about Janice Jackson? She’s nasty.”

  “Not available?” he asked. “I didn’t even say when.”

  “She doesn’t want to work with Woof,” Marisol said, stepping out of the taxi, paying the driver, and getting a receipt.

  “Why not?”

  “You’re Thug Woofer’s manager. You know why.” Marisol stepped into a café. She grabbed a cheese croissant and stood in line. “He acted like a dick. That bridge is burned.”

  “But can’t you—”

  “Look,” Marisol said. “It’s the moment on Love Connection when the girl says no, she doesn’t want another date. Suck it up and move on. Doesn’t Woof have a ‘pussy line around the block’? Hang on—” She turned to the woman behind the counter. “Mocha, please. Sorry, I’m back.”

  “What if I double the price?” the manager asked.

  “I told you at the beginning, the girls have the final say. I got Janice Jackson. I got Sugar Golden. He’d like these other girls, and they might even like him.”

  “He’s not gonna like this,” he said.

  “I’m glad our service was otherwise satisfactory,” Marisol said. “Your office will get the donation receipt for tax season. Pleasure doing business with you.”

  * * *

  That night, she met with her team in the office. “Sorry this is so late,” she said. “Things have been crazy since the fund-raiser.”

  She slung the purse onto the desk and unloaded the bricks of cash. “From the tech guy heist two weeks ago,” Marisol said. “I haven’t counted it.”

  “Did he really do the wife with you right there in the vent?” Jody asked.

  Marisol grimaced. “Don’t remind me.” She distributed the bills to the team to count and recount.

  Someone knocked loudly on the door. Marisol leaped up, startled. Tyesha jolted and knocked a tall stack of cash off the desk. The loose bills fluttered down.

  “Pick those up!” Marisol hissed, striding across the office.

  “Sorry,” Tyesha whispered.

  “Yes?” Marisol asked through the door.

  “Marisol? . . . Hey, it’s Raul.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Front desk sent me. You have a package.”

  Marisol glanced at her team picking up bills strewn across the carpet.

  “Of course,” Marisol said. “Thanks for bringing it.” She unlocked the bolt and slid out of the barely open door.

  Raul held a huge box in both arms. “Lemme drop it in your office.”

  “I can get it,” Marisol said.

  “It’s really heavy,” he said. “I know you’re strong, but I had to rest halfway up the stairs with this.”

  “Sorry, you can’t come in right now,” Marisol said, peeking back into the office to see Kim squeezing under the desk to get several hundred-dollar bills. “I’m meeting with my outreach team, and we have open client files. Patient confidentiality. It would be—” She glanced back to see Tyesha stuffing bills into a drawer. “It would be illegal.”

  “Can I just leave it here?” he asked.

  Marisol looked at the sender. “No,” she said. “It’s got syringes and bottles of narcan. That’s why security sent it up. It’s locked in my office by special protocol.”

  “Okay,” Raul said. “I hope you’ve been working out.”

  She heaved the package into her arms. Although she clenched every muscle, it knocked her backward.

  Raul caught her. “Cuidado,” he said and stood behind her to steady her grip.

  She felt his warm shoulder against the back of her neck and his pectoral muscle against her shoulder blade. Her pulse picked up. She wanted to tell him to back up, that she had the package, but she was unsteady.

  “Nice upper body strength,” he said in her ear. His breath tickled the hairs at the nape of her neck. “Lemme help you balance.” He pressed up against her, his crotch at the base of her spine. Her body fit so easily with his, and it was an identical temperature to her own. She was simultaneously unaware of it and intensely, chemically aware.

  Jody stepped out of the office. “Need a hand?”

  “Yes,” Marisol gasped.

  Jody lifted the box from Raul’s arm and swung the office door open with her foot.

  Tyesha and Kim sat at the desk covered with nothing but files. Marisol sighed with relief.

  “I’ll let you get back to your meeting,” Raul murmured in her ear.

  Marisol nearly jumped. She hadn’t realized that he was still behind her. “Yes—I—” she stammered. “Thanks again.”

  He turned and walked down the stairs, and the women w
atched his wide shoulders, narrow hips, and firm ass.

  “He can deliver his package to me anytime,” Tyesha said. “If it wasn’t against the rules to date other staff, I would definitely tap that.”

  “Uh-uh,” Jody said. “He’s Marisol’s.”

  “No, he isn’t,” Marisol said.

  “Jody came out of the office and you were all squeezed up with him,” Kim said.

  “I was not squeezed up with him,” Marisol said. “I just overbalanced.”

  “Overbalancing,” Tyesha said. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

  “Don’t talk shit to me right now,” Marisol said. “If you hadn’t practically made it rain in front of an ex-cop, I wouldn’t have been in that position.”

  “What position is that?” Kim asked.

  “Shut up and count this damn money,” Marisol said.

  Soon there were no sounds but the shuffle and flip of treasury bills and the murmured love songs of women counting.

  * * *

  The next morning, Thug Woofer came to see Marisol. Before inviting him in, she put on her glasses, pulled her long hair back into a bun, and buttoned an additional button on her blouse.

  “I want Candi,” he said. “Candi Jones.”

  For a moment, she wanted to laugh. He was such a kid in those oversized, glittering designer clothes, demanding sweets.

  “I’m sorry,” Marisol said. “She’s not available.”

  “This some bullshit. How you gonna run a business, but won’t let me choose my merchandise?”

  “The girls aren’t merchandise. They’re service workers.”

  “How much I gotta pay to change her mind?”

  “You’re not gonna change her mind.”

  “You tell her to name her price,” he said. “And then call me.”

  He dropped a card on her desk. It read TW in raised silver letters and had a cell phone number. He hiked up his jeans and strode out the door.

  She recycled the card.

  * * *

  At the end of the day, Marisol and Serena had just finished a site visit from the NYC Board of Elections. Marisol had been trying for years to set the clinic up as a polling place. The visit had gone well, and she and Serena were walking back through the lobby toward the stairwell.