CHAPTER 6

 

 

Albert “Culebra” Serrano watched as the dark-colored Caprice rolled by his silver Lexus. With one hand, he held the head of Sassy, his favorite whore, still in his lap. His other hand gripped the .45 caliber Colt Desert Eagle which resided in a skeleton holster in the small of his back wherever he went. The darkly tinted windows of his Lexus kept others from seeing into the back seat, but Culebra always got alert when an obvious cop car drove by.

Neither of the cops seemed to pay attention to the Lexus as they passed. Both stared straight ahead out the windshield.

Gradually, after the Caprice drove on out of sight, Culebra relaxed. Taking his hand off Sassy’s head, he ordered, “Go back to work.”

She did. Head bobbing in Culebra’s lap, one hand cradling his balls, Sassy did her thing very well. She knew to please Culebra, ‘cause he gave her what she needed.

Culebra leaned his head back, closed his eyes. Reveled in the sensations he always enjoyed. Never would he tire of them.

His sighs became moans. Moans grew to great exhalations as the need built. As long as possible, he held the need, savoring the physical pangs it brought. Then, a crescendo as he grasped Sassy by the hair. His cries and physical release combined in a sexual climax of major proportions.

But all of Culebra’s climaxes were of major proportions. That’s why he liked sex so much. That’s why he earned the nickname “Culebra,” The Snake. Always sticking his snake to the whores.

And that sure’s hell ain’t going to change. He watched Sassy wipe him off with a towel and put him back in his pants.

“You ain’t forgot how to give good head,” he remarked to Sassy, reaching out and giving her breast a squeeze. A gold tooth shone in his smile.

“An’ you ain’t forgot how to keep a good hard on, Baby,” she crooned. She knew Culebra expected and liked to be told how potent he was. She also knew stroking him like this brought great rewards.

Right now, she needed some of those great rewards. It’d been a busy night, with no time to hardly draw a deep breath between customers. Culebra was the last. Finish with him, snort some stuff, head off to La-La Land the rest of the day. That was her plan.

Little muscles quivering beneath her skin, a slight sheen of sweat on her face, Sassy eased up on the edge of the tan leather back seat, pulling her top up and settling her ample breasts comfortably. “You got me some stuff, Baby? I really need it.”

Feeling good, Culebra decided to have some fun with his favorite whore. A large grin, showing off the gold tooth, grew across his handsome face.

“You really need it?” he said. “Really, really need it?”

“Yeah, Baby. I ain’t scored any stuff since day ‘fore yesterday. I gotta have it.” Sassy’s heart started thudding in her chest.

Drunk with his power over this woman, Culebra made a great show of reaching into his jacket pocket, pulling out a clear plastic envelope. White powder lining the bottom of the envelope drew Sassy’s eye. She licked her lips, reached for the envelope.

“Uh-uh.” Culebra snatched it back just as her fingers brushed the thin plastic. “Say please.”

Anything, anything! “Please.” Sassy couldn’t release the envelope with her eyes. “Please,” she repeated.

“That’s better,” Culebra said with the tone of a patient father. He held out the dope toward Sassy.

As she reached for it, he moved it just enough to cause her to miss it. Laughing, he held it out again.

Sassy smiled. Reached out again.

Culebra moved it again. Laughed more.

Smile fixed, Sassy reached faster. He moved it faster. Laughed louder.

Another time Culebra played the game. And another.

Sassy lost her smile. She grabbed with both hands. Missed and missed again.

“Let me have it, you son-of-a-bitch!” she shouted at him finally.

As soon as the words left her mouth, Sassy froze. She might get away with a lot of things with Culebra, but never cussing him. Eyes wide, mouth open, heart thrashing in her chest, Sassy couldn’t move.

Culebra stopped the game at once. His eyes grabbed hers, showed all the warmth of his namesake.

“What did you say?” he demanded from mouth thinned down to a slit.

For a few seconds, the whore found no words. “B,B,Baby, I, I didn’t mean nothing. Honest, I didn’t.”

“You called me a son-of-a-bitch,” he accused. His left hand flashed out, connected with her face.

“No, no, baby. I didn’t mean it.” She talked fast, taking in the fury shining from his face. “I was mad, out of my head. I’m sorry.”

His right hand streaked out to connect with her side. It still held the Desert Eagle, so it made more of an impression than a mere slap.

“Nobody talks that way to me!” he shouted in her face. “I kill people who talk that way to me!”

Culebra reached out with his left hand, pulled the door lever. “Get the hell out!” he yelled.

With no other choice, Sassy crawled out the door, tripped, and fell to the sidewalk. She felt something hit her in the back of the head. The plastic envelope. Now the day wasn’t ruined.

“Damn bitch!” Culebra shouted, starting the car and driving off.

Across town a little later, Culebra cruised slowly along a street strewn with knots of young black men, four or five standing together. Although these young men wore popular and thus expensive clothing, they stood laughing and talking with each other during the time of day others trod to work. And Culebra knew he could come down this street any time of the day or night and see these same young men there. They were young men of means, the group he trolled through for customers. Gazing at each gathering, he watched for the hand sign a select group of buyers knew. Everyone knew the car. Knew it belonged to a man of the streets. One who could supply the stuff needed to deal with life.

But only a small number knew how to make contact with the man inside.

When Culebra saw the sign flashed, he pulled over to the curb. A young man detached himself from the group, slid into the front seat.

“Culebra!” the young man said with a wide smile. “How they hangin’?”

“Just like you left ‘em, ‘Drew.” Culebra’s smile came smaller than his customer’s. “What you need?”

“Always down to business, ain’t you?” Two small blue teardrops decorated ‘Drew’s left cheek at the corner of his eye. Those showed he’d made his bones while he was in prison. ‘Drew just turned twenty-two.

Culebra could’ve had three, maybe four of the teardrops on his cheek. So he wasn’t impressed. “Gotta make my daily bread,” he responded to ‘Drew’s question.

“Gonna have a party tonight. Wanted to see if you could supply some happy dust for me.”

“No problem. When you want it?”

“Not sure just what time,” ‘Drew went on. “Got some dudes comin’ from outta town. Wanta show ‘em a good time. Know what I mean?” he pulled out a roll of bills. “How much shit will this buy?”

Counting the money, Culebra made some calculations. “Enough for you and your friends to have a real good time. Call me an hour before you need it, I’ll see it gets to you.”

“Aw-right!” ‘Drew breathed softly. “You ever need somebody to help you, you know, with deliveries an’ such, you let me know.”

Culebra stared at him from behind mirrored shades. Already, he knew that would never happen, not with ‘Drew. But how could he get out of telling him that? No way did Culebra want to spoil this sale.

His beeper saved him. When it went off, Culebra checked the number, said, “Gotta go. I’ll get back to you on that.”

‘Drew, impressed with himself that he’d made the proposition and impressed with Culebra, nodded. “Sure. Call you later.”

Breathing a sigh of relief as he drove away, Culebra picked up his cell phone, punched in the number left on his beeper. He knew to let it ring twice, then call again.

“Yeah?” a bass voice answered.

“This’s Culebra.”

“Yeah, Man. I need some stuff. Four Star Mo-tel. over on Sixth? Room 14.”

“Be there in fifteen minutes,” Culebra replied, then hung up.

Actually, he’d get to the area in about ten minutes. That gave him time to check out whether this was a setup. Carelessness never paid in his profession. He’d been selling the stuff of life and whores for over ten years. In that time, he learned a lot. To be careful, most of all.

Fifteen minutes after hanging up his cell phone, Culebra parked in front of Room 14 at the Four Star Motel. Its yellow brick exterior faded to a dirty caramel, the Four Star would never live up to its name. A step and a half up from a hot sheet motel, it barely paid for itself. Grass grew in green tufts next to the building, giving the only relief from the dreary color of the facility. Even the doors were pale mustard yellow.

Number 14 was in the back, as Culebra expected. After sitting in his car for a couple of minutes scoping out the place, he touched the horn. Its almost-tiny ‘beep’ sounded just loud enough to be heard inside. A flicker of movement at the curtains across the window told him the man knew he’d arrived.

Five seconds later, a man who looked remarkably like a light-complected Malcolm X opened the door, glanced right and left, motioned Culebra inside. Without hesitation, Culebra shook his head in refusal.

The man stared at him, waved again for him to come in. Again, Culebra refused.

When the man stuck his head back inside the room, Culebra thought he would go back inside, forget the deal. He was prepared to accept that. It was business. Sometimes customers changed their minds.

But the man must’ve only looked back to check on something. Or to get instructions from somebody. Maybe he should just leave.

By that time, the man eased out the door and strolled to the Lexus. When he got in the front seat, he laid a chrome-plated .357 Magnum on his lap. A nick in the walnut grip marred the smoothness of the finish. The pistol wasn’t quite pointed at Culebra, but could be brought into play fast if needed. Culebra accepted that as part of business. Alcohol wafted faintly in with the man, as if he’d used it as cologne.

“Yo, Man. What’s the problem?” the man asked, face wrinkled together in a frown. “C’mon inside where it’s private.”

Culebra stood his ground. “It’s private here, Man. We can talk.”

Narrowing his eyes, the man studied Culebra’s face. “You don’t trust me?”

“Look here.” Culebra felt anger and suspicion erupting from the other man. “I don’t hear from you three, four months …”

“I been away,” the man interrupted.

Nodding, Culebra went on. “Then all of a sudden you call. Wantin’ some stuff. You bring me out here to th’ No-Tell Mo-tel, then just stick your head out an’ wave me in. What’m I s’posed to think? Hah?”

The man chewed on this awhile, seemed to decide the point was well made. “Well,” he said, voice less harsh, “you coulda come early an’ drove aroun’. You know, checked the place out.”

“Hey, Man. I don’t wanta do that,” Culebra replied with a growing smile. “I wanta trust you, you know? I don’t think you’d really try to set me up.” His smile turned wicked. “ ‘Sides, if you did, you’d never live to enjoy whatever you got paid.”

It was the man’s turn to nod in understanding. “I know that, Man. Nobody does that to Culebra.” No offense taken, just business talk. Setting the rules. Laying down the boundaries.

Silence settled over the two of them. Each digesting what he knew of the other.

Finally, Culebra turned from looking out the windshield. “What you got in there?”

A large grin spread across the man’s face. “C’mon in an’ see.”

Still not fully convinced of the man’s honesty, but knowing he had to win back his confidence to keep him as a customer, Culebra moved slowly getting out of the car. Another glance around the small parking lot showed no one in the three other cars there. He saw no one spying out of the curtains of the rooms next to the one they would enter.

Culebra stood by his car a few seconds. The sun felt just slightly warm on this early summer morning. Glancing up, he noted the puffy, white clouds floating past. He took what he thought might be his last deep breath of sun-warmed air.

Grin still in place, the man held the door open for Culebra. “C’mon in. You’ll like this.”

It sounded altogether too innocent. What was in there? Cops waiting to take him down? Some rival dealer with a shotgun to gut him when he walked in? What?

Culebra’s insides roiled as he thought about it. He took his time strolling up to the door.

“You first.” He stared the man dead in the eye.

The man’s grin faltered for a fractional second. “Sure.” He knew Culebra was only being wisely cautious.

Even though the man boldly walked through the door, Culebra’s stomach muscles tightened and he held his breath as he stepped inside.

When nothing happened as he entered, his heart began slowing down and he released pent-up breath. Taking a few seconds to calm himself further, he looked around the room.

It didn’t take long. One double bed dominated the twelve by twelve room. From where he stood, Culebra saw a television standing on a plastic-looking dark wood dresser. To use the mirror on the dresser, a person would stand right in front of the TV. Against the back wall, a chair lounged beside a small table with a lamp on it. A dark green Gideon Bible lay to one side of the lamp, a can of Bud Lite and a syringe lay to the other side. An open closet and the door to a tiny bathroom faced each other across the chair.

But the bed caught Culebra’s attention as his eyes adjusted to the 40-watt lamp light. As he watched, the thin mottled brown covering moved.

As he took the room in, the other man stood watching him from beside the bed. When Culebra caught the movement on the bed, the man’s grin stretched impossibly further across his face.

Not saying a word, he reached down and flicked the coverlet to the foot of the bed. Lying there semi-conscious was a young blonde girl, naked.

Culebra’s eyes flashed upward to meet those of the other man. “What th’ hell?”

“Just got her off th’ bus las’ night, Man. She come in from somewhere out in the sticks in

Iowa,” the man explained.

“She can’t be more than fourteen, Man,” Culebra protested. “What’re you thinking about?”

The man lost part of his smile. He took an i.d. card from his pocket. “She’s sixteen, Man. Least, accordin’ to this driver’s license. Name of …”

“Don’t tell me!” Culebra snapped. “I don’t wanta know. Less I know, the better for me.”

“Okay, Man, okay. Don’t blow up on me.” His grin came back. “I been breakin’ her in all night. Wanta try ‘er?”

The girl moaned a little, turned on her side. Both men glanced over at her.

“How ‘bout it, My Man? Give her a little ride.”

Culebra’s head snapped back up to face the man again. “What th’hell you gonna do with her?”

“Gonna make some money, Man. She’s my little money mo-chine. You can have her all you want, Culebra. Call it payment for some happy dust?”

Not even giving the man an answer other than a disgusted stare, Culebra turned on his heel and opened the door. He thought to twist his hand on the knob, hoping he smeared whatever fingerprints might be left there.

The man was around the end of the bed and right behind Culebra as he started out the door. Grabbing him by the left arm, the man stopped him.

“Hey, where you goin’? We got a deal or not?”

Turning slowly to his left to face the man, Culebra flexed his right wrist, allowing a switchblade attached to a rig there to slip into his hand. As he made the turn, he brought the knife up in front of the man’s face. The four-inch razor-like blade snicked open with a reflected flash of sunlight from the partially opened door.

“No – we ain’t got a deal.” He almost growled the words, staring the man in the eye. “And if you don’t get your hand off my arm, you ain’t gonna have a hand left.”

The man released Culebra’s arm as if it suddenly grew hot as molten steel. He said nothing as he watched Culebra get in his car and drive off.

Driving away, Culebra muttered under his breath about the man’s ancestry and habits. His beeper interrupted his musing.

Once again, he dialed a number. “This’s Culebra,” he said when his call was answered.

“Hey, Baby.” The voice sounded familiar. “This’s Wendi. I need to see you.”

A safe customer this time. “Yeah. Where you at?”

She gave him the address. “Be there in ten.”

No need for a drive-by in this case. The motel where she stayed was quite a few steps up from the Four Star. But then, Wendi was quite a different person from the man he just left.

Culebra didn’t hesitate to get out of his car and knock on Wendi’s door. At his approach, he saw the curtains move as if someone looked out at him. He’d barely knocked when the door opened.

“Hi, Baby.” The red-haired woman held the door open for him as she said this. “C’mon in.” She only stuck her head around the door.

When Culebra entered, he saw why. Wendi wore only pink bikini panties.

Her skin, pale as many redheads have, held a scattering of freckles, easily seen through a light tan. The freckles spread thinly over the tops of her full breasts.

Culebra took all this in as Wendi closed the door, then leaned against it. Knowing he liked to look at her, she allowed him his fill. Then she glided to him, throwing her arms around his neck and molding herself to him. Her kiss was open-mouthed and deep.

“Wish I could have you, Baby,” she breathed in his ear, feeling his hardness. “But it’s that time of the month.”

“Too bad,” he murmured back. His hands found her breasts, began kneading them gently. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah.” She moved back a little to give his hands more room. Culebra was one man she enjoyed. “I need something for my cramps.”

He smiled at her. “Don’t women use aspirin or Midol for that?” he joked.

“Some do. Your medicine’s better.”

Laughing, he reached into an inner pocket of his jacket and handed her a plastic bag. Wendi walked across the room as only Wendi could. She brought him a small packet of bills.

“Good month. Won’t be long ‘til I can retire and just run my stable.”

“And then what? Get married?”

Wendi almost guffawed at the idea. “I been with so many men, why would I want to stay with one permanently?”

Quiet for several seconds, Culebra then said softly, “Oh, I dunno … just wondered.”

Then it became clear to Wendi. “You mean … us?” She hugged him tightly. “How sweet.”

Culebra blushed. He felt it, didn’t think anything could ever make him blush. “Well, you know … it was an idea.”

“And it’s a great idea.” Wendi kissed him again. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

He started to say something, was interrupted by a news bulletin on the TV across the room.

“We interrupt our regular programming for this news bulletin,” a talking head, male, intoned solemnly. “For the third time in six weeks, a woman has been found brutally murdered. Early this morning, police responded to a call that a body had been discovered murdered like two other women in the metroplex in the last month. Authorities are not releasing the woman’s name at this time.”

The bulletin went on, describing the first two murders and touting the fact that those women were known prostitutes. By implication, the reporter made it known this third woman also enjoyed that profession.

“How awful!” Wendi’s forehead creased deeply.

Culebra snorted.

“You don’t think so?” she challenged. “That could be me.”

“Naw. They were just whores, prob’ly junkies. Got what they deserved.” He pulled her closer. “Not high class women like you. You don’t have to worry ‘bout who you’re with.”

Pushing him away, she frowned deeper. “You’re cold, Culebra. Cold.”

“Yeah, well. Gotta go, Baby. Call me.”

She allowed him to caress her once more, closed the door as she heard him laugh getting into the car.