Lipstick Hustla

by Allison Hobbs

  “The show’s starting!” Brick yelled.

  Thomasina hustled into the living room. She set a plate piled up with wing dings on the coffee table in front of Brick.

  “Mmm. Smells good.” He dipped his finger in the sauce and tasted it. “The sauce is banging, baby.”

  Thomasina didn’t utter a word. She’d tuned Brick out. Staring at the TV screen, waiting for Misty to hit the red carpet.

  “Here comes my baby! Look at Misty!” Thomasina yelled when her daughter stepped onto the red carpet.

  “Look at lil’ Misty, rubbing elbows with the stars,” Brick said admiringly. He looked at his wife, who was dabbing at her eyes. “You crying?”

  Thomasina nodded. Didn’t speak. Brick nodded in understanding, knowing she didn’t want to speak. She couldn’t. Too choked up. In Thomasina’s opinion, this was her daughter’s shining moment…the moment Thomasina had been waiting for Misty’s entire life.

  The host on the pre-BET Awards, red carpet event directed her question and comments to Spydah, asked him questions about his new single, and told him “good luck” on his performance later on.

  “She didn’t say one word to Misty,” Thomasina said angrily.

  It wasn’t about Misty. She was arm candy, but Brick knew Thomasina wouldn’t see it that way.

  “She could have asked her about her dress or even said that she looked nice. The heifa acted like Misty wasn’t even standing there. Jealous. Women always jealous of my baby.”

  “Here we go. I thought you said you were going to stop focusing on Misty’s looks. You admitted that you helped mess her mind up,” Brick said, sucking in a long breath.

  “Everyone’s focusing on beauty at those award shows. What do you expect me to do…pretend that my daughter is an ugly duckling?”

  “No. But you have to understand…Misty was the date of that young rapper. He’s the man of the hour. It wasn’t about her.”

  “I don’t care. The heifa with the microphone deliberately ignored and disrespected my baby.”

  “How? Can’t nobody ignore Misty. Did you see how the camera stayed on her the whole time? Did you see how she was smiling and glowing? I think it would have been too much for everybody if Misty would have started talking. She would have straight stole the show from that young bull.”

  Thomasina perked up. She smiled. “You have a point, Baron. Misty filled the whole screen. I don’t know why she doesn’t consider going into acting or modeling…you know…she could start a petite line. They have the plus-sized models…why not have someone represent the lil’ girls? Misty would be perfect.”

  CHAPTER 35

  After the BET Awards ceremony, Misty was a hot topic on Twitter. She may have been ignored by the host, but America wanted to know more about her. Online gossip columns posted her picture, calling her Spydah’s “hot mystery date.”

  Spydah’s people requested a bio from Misty so they could have a handy blurb regarding her identity. But Misty refused to submit a bio.

  Let them keep wondering about me. I’m not giving Adam’s entertainment agency shit unless they pay me. Ain’t nothing free in this world.

  So far Spydah hadn’t put her on the payroll, but Misty had started hitting him up with monetary requests on a regular basis. Fuck waiting for him to take a hint that his gifts weren’t cutting it anymore.

  After Spydah had spent money to dress her for the BET Awards, their relationship evolved to the point where it was acceptable for him to continue dressing her. He liked her looking fabulous and didn’t seem to have a problem forking over cash toward her wardrobe.

  Well…at least that’s what she told him she needed the money for. Actually, a great deal of Spydah’s money went toward the crazy, high down payment on her new apartment. And the extra things necessary to be comfortable until she hired an interior designer.

  The apartment complex was tucked away in the East Falls section of Philadelphia, situated in a historic nineteenth-century former textile mill. Advertised as an oasis in the shadow of Center City, the location was a perfect hideaway from prying eyes that might not appreciate Misty’s unconventional lifestyle.

  She loved everything about her new luxury apartment. It had three large bedrooms, fourteen-foot-high ceilings, classic oak flooring, built-in desks and bookcases, elegant archways, oversized garden tubs, walk-in closets, side-by-side refrigerators, and a full-sized washer and dryer inside the apartment. There were added amenities, including a pool and a state-of-the-art fitness center.

  It was a giant leap from her little ghetto studio apartment. She was back on top and still climbing.

  The next thing she had to take care of was her transportation. She needed to turn the X5 over to Sailor and let him tote the boys around from one job to the other. She needed to be wheeling something sleek and sexy. Something fast and exotic. Something crazy expensive.

  The boys, her term of endearment for her team of dick slingers, were out buying furniture for the two extra bedrooms. The master bedroom belonged to Misty and whomever she chose to share it with for the night.

  For the time being, she was sleeping on an air mattress. She’d get her bedroom together in due time. As long as she had desk space and her laptop, she was a happy camper.

  As usual, Troy was getting on her nerves. Chilling at his mom’s crib because he didn’t want to share a bedroom with the boys.

  Misty intended to make good use of the space. At present, she only had a staff of four…Izell, Troy, Sailor, and Lennox. But there was a new dude moving in tomorrow. He’d already been doing a couple jobs here and there. His name was Horatio…big mufucka…built like a damn linebacker.

  Eventually, there would be four boys per bedroom. That would require two sets of sturdy-ass bunk beds per bedroom.

  She’d already checked it out…loft bunk beds were designed for two full-sized adults. She would pack as many dudes in her apartment as possible. On some real shit, the sleeping arrangements could be extended to the living room.

  She hadn’t purchased any furniture yet, and if she could get the rest of the male models away from Uncle Freaky, Misty would be stacking for real.

  Maybe she could use scare tactics…hint that Uncle Freaky looked a little sickly…it was possible that an old homo like him was carrying the package. An HIV scare might send the rest of those pretty boys scattering like scared mice.

  Izell loved to run his mouth. Misty would make it her business to mention that she noticed that Uncle Freaky’s complexion had a gray tint to it.

  Her cell rang. It was Sailor. “How’s it going? You boys finding everything you wanted for the bedrooms?”

  “Yeah, it’s working out. I called because the clients are still calling my cell to hook up dates. We forgot to reroute the calls back to your phone.”

  “Oh. Do we have to? I have so much on my mind right now. I’m not in the mood for it. Can’t talk to any horny clients. Not right now.”

  “That’s not a problem. But there’s a request for Troy. We don’t get along, so I figured you could work out the details with Troy.”

  “Is it one of his regulars?”

  “No. It’s a woman looking for service. New client.”

  “I hope you informed her that the fee for couples’ fun is double. Clients are always trying to pretend that they don’t know that, but I make sure that everything pertaining to money is written in large, bold print.” Misty’s temper was starting to flare. She didn’t want to go there, but cheap-ass, tryna-get-over clients could easily work her nerves.

  “I didn’t get the impression that she had any money concerns. She wants him to stay overnight.”

  “Oh!” This apartment is costing me a grip. I can’t be turning no money down.

  “Can you persuade her to take Izell or Lennox? Why would she choose bony-behind Troy over those big hunks of masculinity? And what about the new bull, Horatio? That big bruiser looks like he could tackle a whole bunch of mufuckas. You got his picture posted, don’t you?”

  “
Yeah, she saw all the photos and the videos, but the lady wants Troy. She mentioned something about liking the ashy aspect of his image.”

  “Oh, God,” Misty groaned. “Okay, I’ll get in touch with Troy.” Misty hung up and stared into space.

  This is so fucked up! Wearily, she ran her fingers through her hair. For a day that had started out with so much promise, Misty was slipping fast into a rotten mood. All she wanted out of this day was to sit and bask in self-appreciation. She had moved herself out a fuckin’ shit hole into this beautiful, upscale, new apartment. And she couldn’t even enjoy it. More money…more problems. She supposed the saying was true.

  Now she had to deal with Troy’s temperamental ass. Sweet-talk him into making some money. What kind of insane bullshit was that?

  “Hey, Troy,” Misty said cheerily when she got Troy on the phone.

  “Whassup, Misty?” He sounded stern…like he was determined to stick to his guns.

  “I gotta big money date for you.”

  “I ain’t feelin’ it right now. I’m on the block…chillin’ with my niggas.”

  Chillin’ with my niggas. Misty grimaced as she mimicked him in her head. Ugh! Troy was so stupid. She wished she had him in her clutches, so she could kick him in his damn head.

  “How’s your money holding up?”

  “I’m good.”

  “What’s your version of being good?”

  “I got a coupla dollars.”

  “Umph. I would kill myself if I only had a coupla damn dollars,” Misty said sneeringly.

  “We don’t think the same. Obviously, we don’t see eye-to-eye. I been with you all this time, but you tryna throw me in a dormitory with a bunch of smelly niggas. I’m good right here at my mom’s house. Least here, I get to have my own room.”

  Misty counted to ten. Got control of her emotions and kept a level head. “You’re right, Troy. I’m going to let you have one of the bedrooms. All to yourself. Okay?”

  “Aiight then. Cuz shit…those niggas all know each other. They used to being all piled up on top of each other—”

  “Shut the fuck up, Troy. I said you can have your own goddamn room. Why you still complaining?”

  “I’m just saying, yo.”

  “Catch a cab. Damn! I’ll pay for it when you get here.”

  “That’ll work,” Troy mumbled.

  “See you soon.” Misty ended the call.

  I can see that I’ma have to fuck Troy up. Turn his ass into a mufuckin’ table.

  CHAPTER 36

  Now that she was out of the ’hood and living in a respectable area, Misty decided to give Spydah her actual address, rather than forcing him to continue sending her presents to a post office number.

  “I must have done something right for you to finally trust me with the address to ya crib,” Spydah had said over the phone.

  In less than an hour after talking to him, her apartment was swamped with flowers. Dozens and dozens. The splashes of color added another dimension to the crib.

  But Spydah didn’t know that she didn’t possess one stick of furniture yet. Luckily, there was ample counterspace and lots of built-in cabinets to display the beautiful flowers.

  Being creative, she and Troy covered some of the moving boxes with expensive linen and luxury bath towels and used the covered boxes as unique pedestals to flaunt the floral arrangements.

  As Misty and Troy sat on the floor admiring their decorative touches, Sailor called.

  “Bad news,” he said.

  “What now! Can I be happy for a damn second?”

  “The lady cancelled.”

  “Why?”

  “She didn’t wanna pay double because she’s single.”

  “That makes sense. Why didn’t you tell her she could pay the regular fee?”

  “I did. But she didn’t know that she had to pay five thousand to have him for the whole night.”

  “What the fuck? I know that bitch don’t think I’m running a charity that gives away free dick at midnight.”

  Troy was on the hardwood floor, his back resting against a sturdy pillar. He bumped his head against the wood and sighed in frustration. “I shoulda stayed in my ’hood.”

  Misty glanced at Troy. “Shut the fuck up. I’ma come up with something. One bitch can’t stop my money flow.”

  “I’ma call a cab. Roll out ’til you need me,” Troy said.

  “Wait, Troy. You ain’t got nowhere important to be.”

  Misty spoke into the cell. “Sailor, I have an idea, but I need you and the boys to stop everything you’re doing and come home. ASAP!”

  Misty amazed her own damn self with her brilliant mind and cunning.

  An email blast to VIP customers inviting them to an Exotic Open House Celebration had done the trick.

  Sailor looked quite spiffy in the tux that Misty had hurriedly rented for him to wear that evening.

  Lennox, Izell, and Horatio were hot as hell, their muscled bodies oiled, each man wearing only a loincloth.

  Troy, however, was a skinny, ashy hot mess. But he would still makes lots of paper. Troy had a huge following of men and women that lusted for his ashy, long dick.

  The paying guests buzzed with excitement as Sailor worked the vast living room, serving wine that he carried on a silver platter.

  Misty had never intended to meet her clients face-to-face. But money issues will take a person out of their comfort zone.

  Shunning the spotlight, she tried to downplay her stunning beauty by wearing a simple, Yves Saint Laurent, black sheath dress. Her dark, glossy hair was arranged in a classic chignon style. And she wore pearls…one of Spydah’s numerous gifts. A shocking gift because she really couldn’t picture a thug nigga picking out any damn pearls.

  But at least the corny jewelry was finally coming in handy. Prior to tonight, those stupid pearls had been stuffed inside of a piece of luggage.

  Despite all of her effort to look plain, Misty’s beauty shined through, and she was still undeniably hot.

  As she mingled with her guests, discussing everything from the weather to how the Sixers were doing, she was hit on at least ten times, and was offered a king’s ransom for a mere sniff of her exotic coochie.

  Some people were never satisfied with what they were offered. Here Misty had allowed these horny mufuckas into her crib for a special erotic extravaganza and they still weren’t satisfied. They wanted a piece of her. Fuck no.

  Along with the decorated boxes on the floor, Misty had added an assortment of human tables: Lennox, Izell, and Horatio. And sadly…Troy. Troy was the worst-looking, rickety-ass table she’d ever seen.

  Izell and the boys were sturdy as statues…unmoving. Their bodies glistened, their strong backs more than capable of supporting anyone who wanted to take a seat.

  But Troy. Oh, my God! Misty shot him an evil glance. He looked terrible in the loincloth. Making matters worse, he kept twitching and moving. His arms and legs looked spindly and were covered with an extra thick layer of ash. He was the kind of table that required being rubbed down with generous amounts of furniture polish.

  Smash Hitz didn’t have anything on Misty. She’d taken his idea and run away with it.

  There was one problem though; Misty didn’t have enough “tables” to go around. Misty had to insist that each guest take a number.

  When Happy Hubby’s wife picked the first number, she squealed with excitement and raced over to Horatio, slid beneath his strong body, pulled his loincloth to the side and immediately got to sucking.

  After everyone received a number, long lines began to form behind all the masculine “tables.”

  “Sailor,” Misty whispered. “Let them get their own wine. You did enough serving. Can’t you help out with some of this work?”

  Sailor frowned. His bottom lip quivered. “You said I didn’t have to do that anymore.”

  “Look at all this money standing around.”

  He squirmed. “I know, but…”

  “Don’t you wanna go to c
ollege?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Aiight then. Grab a bitch if that’ll make you feel better. Don’t you see all those women checking for you?”

  “No, I didn’t notice.”

  “Well, I did. Get out of that monkey suit. And go get naked. I’ll broker the deal. You be waiting inside one of the bedrooms. You can at least appreciate the fact that I’ma let you do your work in private.” Misty gave him a tight smile. “Play with yourself while you’re waiting. Do whatever you need to do to get a big boner. Aiight?”

  Sailor nodded unhappily.

  “Stop looking all sad, Sailor. It’s not the end of the world. This shit is bringing in the bucks. I’ma break you off. Put something nice toward your college fund. For real.” She nodded her head as she spoke, trying to convince herself to actually be a woman of her word.

  So far tonight, she’d collected a quarter of the money that Smash Hitz had offered her. But she had her eye on the dicks that were being sucked, and she was running a tab in her mind. It was obvious that before the night was over, she would make much more than fifty stacks.

  CHAPTER 37

  Misty couldn’t be everywhere at once. Controlling her business while trying to control Spydah took a great deal of effort. She despised Smash Hitz, but in order to keep tabs on Spydah, she had to travel with him sometimes.

  Though she really didn’t have time to be fucking around with a bunch of assholes on a concert tour, she had to keep her relationship strong. So she flew to Chicago and joined him at the United Center.

  Now that she and Smash had beef, Misty was glad that Smash separated himself from the other members of the tour. She didn’t linger on stage with Spydah. Hell no, she got the hell off stage well before Spydah’s last song. She had no intention of bumping into crazy-ass Smash Hitz and his moving, human pillars.

  Thank God this tour would soon be over. She promised herself she’d never listen to, talk about, or even think about Smash Hitz. Not ever again.

  In Chicago, Illinois, Misty was racing back to the dressing room, trying to avoid Smash Hitz.