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We had been driving for two uneventful hours before we stopped in Toledo to grab a bite and take a good stretch. The part of Toledo that we initially drove through was a big slum. Houses were leaning over, streets were full of pot holes, and garbage littered the streets. We drove into this rink-a-tink gas station so that Retally8 could empty his bladder. Candy pulled my Mercedes in behind us and waited for Retally8 to grant her permission to get out.
However, Bay felt that she was too tired and too hungry to fucking wait for me to tell her a motherfuckin thang. Bay hopped out of my Mercedes and headed toward the gas station. I leaped out of the suburban like a stunt man and quickly marched over to Bay; I kept control of my hoes at all times because the easiest way to lose your influence on bitch is inch by inch. One way to get your hoe chipped in a hurry was by subtly losing control. The easier they come, the easier they blow. I suppressed any signs of rebellion with quick powerful resolve just like the military- does mob rule. Shit it has worked for centuries; all I needed was a life time of servility.
As I got closer to my car, Israeli yelled in earshot. “I told her to wait,” she rolled her eyes at Bay, “But she shoved me then told me to shut the fuck up because she was hungry.”
My eyes darted over towards Bay. I bit my bottom lip and pimp smacked her, "Oh you’re pulling rank in my stable. You- the- pimp huh. Pull your pants down so I can see that big ole dick that you gone make me suck, bitch!"
Bay spat the blood out of her mouth then looked up at me with fiery rebellion burning in her eyes, "Just because I’m your hoe doesn’t mean that you control my every motherfuckin move nigga. Got dammit I’m hungry!” she looked back at Israeli. “Fuck that sorry prissy ass bitch. Does she make more money than China and I do? Without us, you aint shit C. Do you think you’d be going to The Transnational Playas Ball without us?” Her eyes watered as she continued, “All you do is cake this shady bitch and I aint caking that fake bitch. Why can’t you see through this phony bitch?” Bay shot Israeli the dirtiest look ever. “Look at this counterfeit slut. We aint taking a backseat to some young phony hoe because we’ve been here and we’ve held you down too long for the dumb shit."
Are these bitches trying to start a revolution? She had made a valid point. Israeli hadn’t been raking in the cash that they have been recently, but I couldn't let Bay know that she was absolutely right. I was ashamed that she up-staged me so openly and wholeheartedly. I had to do more than just beat this bitch, but how could I use my mind? Instead of knocking the fuck out of the bitch, I tested my rank among the other hoes. I turned around and snapped, "What are you tired ass hoes doing sitting in the car? You see that this bitch is getting out the pocket with daddy. Are you gonna sit there and let this bitch disrespect the head of the family? Either we are all on the bottom or we are all on the top. Both you bitches get out right now; teach this hard-headed hoe a lesson for trying to be a renegade in my stable.”
Israeli amazed me; she shot out of my Mercedes and quickly charged Bay. I guess she didn’t like Bay mouthing off about her. She set out to show both Bay and I that she was really about this life. Nonetheless, I was even more amazed at how quick Bay folded her with a stiff uppercut to the stomach. Bay was out there holding her hands up in a boxing stance like a nigga. Israeli whimpered like a sick puppy, grabbed her stomach, and crawled on the ground.
Meanwhile, China and Bay was bumping! China was just a ride or die type bitch anyway. She charged Bay with a series of wild windmill punches. Bay took a few unanswered shots then cocked China with a stiff jab followed by an open handed slap. China fell and Bay ran over after her, but China swiftly kicked Bay’s leg from up under her. Then Bay fell down while China promptly took off her boots and busted Bay in the ear with one of them. Bay bounced back and shook that shit off and returned to her defense stance. Boots, bunions, and boobs were everywhere. China tried to hit her again but Bay grabbed her arm and flipped her on to the ground. China grimaced from the solid impact. Bay stumped China in the side. Bay protested, “Neither of you funky ass bitches got enough work for me.”
Suddenly, like a flash of lightening, Israeli tackled Bay from behind and flung her down to the ground. Bay’s skirt ripped and her fat fatigued pussy was everywhere. Israeli snatched off Bay’s wig and began to beat her head against the pavement. “Who phony now bitch? Your bald headed ass wearing a wig but I’m fake! Bitch, please.” Israeli was finally busting-back on this rebellious cunt.
Meanwhile, I sat there being more annoyed than entertained. Once Bay was on the ground, I savagely pried my leather shoe sole across her neck until she turned bluish and gasped for air. I warned, "You've been told before about this off-beat back talking haven't you? Do you think that I need you to go to Playas Ball? I don’t need no cum-catching bitch at all. For every pussy slanging tramp like you, there a thousand more waiting to choose the almighty C-Note. Bitch, you standout like a single grain of sand on a beach.” I pressed down even harder to let this bitch know I was dead serious. “Bitch I don’t control you, I own you, piece of scrap bitch. So you think I am soft? I ought to kill you and dispose of you right now..."
Israeli got up, tucked her little titties away, and placed her hand on her hip. She smiled slightly as she watched Bay suffer my wrath.
As I focused in on Bay, I heard several thunderous fleets of steps approaching us. Danger was present. After readjusting my foot on her throat, I turned around to see two strung-out nappy headed addicts. These two motherfuckas looked dingy and desperate, a condition that I’m all too familiar with. One bugged eyed thug had a blade tightly fitted underneath Israeli's throat. He instructed, "Dig in those deep pockets flashy nigga or I’ll dig off into this little bitch's throat."
My heart froze; my dick ripened. Within seconds, both of the thugs were forcibly holding her. They must have spotted the flam factor, the pretty ladies, and the clean whips that we were driving. They knew that we had money, but they didn’t know how C-Note administered the pimp code under The Do-Dirt Doctrine.
“Fuck that raggedy ass bitch, nigga!" I stepped off of Bay’s neck and closer to them with my chest stuck out. "Kill that cheap phony hoe; she’s worth more dead than alive anyway. Hell, give me the knife, I'll gut that bitch’s intestines out myself. I'm C-Note, the Prince of Pimping, not Ronny Romance." I knew that Israeli could hold ice, but I needed to buy some time. I couldn’t let these suckas know that they had the upper-hand so I had to bluff like I didn’t give a plum fuck about Israeli. The dope fiends were shocked by my boldness and outright lack of concern for my hoe. Israeli’s awestricken eyes spoke fluent fear.
“Give up the cash. We mean it. We’ll gut this bitch.”
I guess he was checking to see if I was only bluffing. I hunched my shoulders, “So what.” I studied their eyes and body language for any signs of weakness, any signs of bluff in return. Their eyes were cold and their hands were steady. It was a solid standoff.
Suddenly, a thunderous crack embarked from one of hoodlums back. He grimaced in great pain before he plummeted to his knees. He reached for his back as he rolled around on the ground. Retally8 had finished pissing behind the building only to unleash a heart stopping punch into the center of the addict's back.
However, the other assailant was distracted just long enough for me to dart over and seize his knife brandishing hand. I grabbed his wrist that he was brandishing the knife with. Israeli scuffled out of the way. All of the girls encircled us full of fear and excitement. I knew I had a lot riding on this tug of war; surely at least one of them bitches was counting on me losing. Deep inside all whores want to see their pimp break ice; they want to see if he can hold up to the same heat he puts out.
Meanwhile, I tussled with the sour breathed, musty junkie. He tried to stab me, but I moved with him to avoid being stabbed. He tired to trip me, but I took my knee and hit him in his ribs. Lastly, he attempted to overpower me but soon realized that he, and his punk ass addiction, was too feeble to fuck with me. I stepped behind his left leg, and then tossed him on to the ground. Once I had subdued him, I was high from the adrenaline rush. I hated drugs and hated junkies, but I didn’t hate dribbling his head on the pavement.
Subconsciously, I had bitten into my bottom lip, and blood was seeping in between my teeth. I actually fell in love with that control over another being’s existence. Power proved addictive. I smelled fear in his eyes; he felt the ruthlessness of my shallow heart as I hammered his head into the concrete. It felt good to be hitting a man for a change. Rage swelled from inside of me. This junkie motherfucka was trying to rob me, trying to put me back on the streets in squalor. He threatened to damage my property like I was some weak punk bitch. I thought back about Mr. Jenkins and when I was a weakling and I instantly grew furious. How far should I go to prove that C-Note aint no joke?
By this time, the whores quickly jockeyed under Retally8’s instruction. I could feel them watching, feel them waiting. Kilo’s voice echoed in my head, “Show them that you mean it!” I took a swift surveillance look then palmed his forehead and slammed it against the pavement one final time. The rage was too powerful for me to curb as I jabbed the sharp blade through the right side of his Adam’s apple until the bloody tip could be seen coming out on the left side. The only thing moving on his bruised face was a few lonely sweat beads. I watched as warm blood gushed out of his throat forming a murky pool around his head. My pulse pranced with unforgiving intensity.
All at once, I heard the urgent echoes of Retally8 calling my name. The cars were gassed up and everybody was in a hurry to roll again. The other junkie had long fled as my eyes searched the immediate area once more for witnesses or even worse police. Out the corner of my eye, I could see the panicked clerk on the telephone, most likely phoning the crooked ass referees. I quickly jerked the knife out of my latest victim’s throat and darted into the gas station, snatched the phone line and cut it. I held the bloody knife in front of the fearful cashier. “Hand me your wallet,” I demanded. He quickly reached in and gave it to me. I took out his driver’s license, “If you know what’s good for you, tell the cops that you didn’t see anything.” I had second thoughts, “Better yet don’t worry about it,” I flogged him on the side of his head with the heavy telephone. I watched him flop like a Frisbee as I leaned over the counter to make sure he was out cold.
Retally8 was blowing the horn so that I could bring my crazy ass on. Finally, I gripped bricks and hopped in the car and against my better judgment; I'd kept the bloody knife for keep sake. It was a victorious souvenir. As we sped away, pictures—bloody pictures—flooded my mind. What took over me? The addict was subdued, why did I kill him? In my shoes, would he have done the same? Didn’t he try to up-stage me in front of my hoes? Without the pimp game, I’m dead. With that in mind, fuck it, he’s merely a casualty of war. It’s survival of the fittest out here in these streets, all is fair.
After all of this interior monologue, my paranoia kicked in. I kept turning and looking out the back window. I looked at the driver’s license and decided to toss it out of the window, but I couldn’t make myself un-ass that knife. It was a war trophy, a badge of honor. It was a sign of my deadly dominance.
Everyone in the car simply remained silent. Retally8 wore this emotionless expression as usual so I didn’t have a clue on how he felt about it. What was there to say? A few cars fled by us before my paranoia was quickly converted into reality; I observed a police cruiser behind us. Were they responding to the cashier’s call? Would all of my bitches hold ice if the police stopped us? My heart drum rolled as they followed us. I tried to remain calm, my palms were sweaty and shirt was sticking to me under my now tattered suit. I made it my business not to look out of the rear window again. Suddenly, they passed us by and my heart was full of relief.
However, that relief would be short-lived because first they drove pass us, then slowed down beside us, after looking inside of our vehicle, they pulled over behind us. The officer had to notice Ashley driving with two well-dressed black men in the back, a definite red flag. This was not a good sign especially to a white man. Finally, the cop turned on his lights and pulled the suburban over.
Once I noticed the flickering red and blue lights, I looked out of the back suburban window. Damn, I contemplated. What to do now? Ashley promptly pulled us over. Shortly after, an officer headed our way. Thinking about the bloody blade in my pocket, my heart painfully palpated. The officer flashed his bright lights in our faces then tapped on Ashley’s window, she rolled down the window.
“Can I see your license and registration please?” Ashley gave him a big smile and commenced to dig in her purse.
He gawked at her big breathtaking breast then he mumbled, “You nigger lover.”
Consequently, Retally8 rolled down his window in a suave manor. "How can I help you, pig...I mean officer."
What the fuck is Retally8 doing? Doesn’t he realize I just killed a motherfucka several miles back?
The officer’s face turned cherry red, "You’re fat ass is stuffed in that tight suit but I'm a pig. Step out of damn vehicle with your hands up, you fat sloppy bubble bee."
By this time, Candy had pulled my Mercedes over behind the police cruiser. Meanwhile, Retally8 stepped out, with his hands up in the air and mumbled, “Bitch ass flatfoot.”
“What did you say?” Asked the cop.
“I said got off on a bad foot,” replied Retally8.
I suddenly realized what Retally8 was doing; he was diverting the officer’s attention. He knew that the officer would be apprehensive just with his size alone. It was at that moment that I noticed the license plate lying on the back seat. Retally8 must have taken it off so that no one could write down the plates; better yet no pigs could run them. Plates weren’t the worst of our problems though. Retally8 always stayed strapped plus if I was searched, I’d be a goner due to the bloody knife, so I had to make a desperate move real quick. I wanted to go somewhere and hide but it’s time to live or die like a lion. I turned slowly with a slight slant in my seat to see if there was another referee in the cruiser; luckily it wasn't.
Furthermore, the officer was curious about my Mercedes that mysteriously pulled behind his vehicle. He was visibly fearful and approached Retally8 with great caution. Scared cops were worse than brave ones. His hand shook like the hips of belly dancers as he held his gun in one hand and his flash light in the other. He glanced back nervously at my Mercedes once more then he instructed Retally8 to put his hands on the hood. "I ought to blow your meaty neck, well necks off, fat ass nigger. This car fucking reeks,” He sneered and shoved Retally8, “of nasty nigger and needless nigger lovers.”
I had two choices let him arrest Retally8 and find that weapon on him then wait to be searched myself or do something completely dangerous that could set us both free. I knew that if I made any inaccurate moves, it could mean death or life in prison for both of us. I wasn't considering either option at this point in my career. I meticulously slid my thirty eight special out of my holster to the side of my waist. Between Retally8 and the mysterious Mercedes parked behind his cruiser, the officer was slightly confused. Once I had my hand on the trigger, I eased my palm around the pistol.
Suddenly, Candy turned off the headlights while the officer was standing behind Retally8 patting him down. I seen the officer’s eyes light up soon as he felt Retally8’s sawed-off shotgun and I panicked. While his revolver was still aimed at Retally8, I fired through the open window. He attempted to fire my way, but I had become a specialist at trigger play. Without thought, I fired repeatedly. The officer’s gun went off inadvertently as he fell to the ground. I had to get out and finish him, fast. I hopped out and ran around the big suburban and blasted the officer in the face. I fired again and again until the officer was permanently suppressed.
Retally8 quickly stepped over the officer and placed his sawed-off against his head. He scoffed, “You reek of death motherfucka!” He heartlessly pulled the trigger. After the blast, blood glistened all over the pants leg of his bright yellow suit. "This bubble bee got a mean sting bitch. You done fucked up a six hundred dollar suit, you dig pig"
Brains poured onto the street like a barrel of chitterlings. I looked up at Retally8 and yelled, “Damn, partner. I didn’t know what else to do. We just killed a referee—a cop.” I tried to hide my fear but I couldn’t. I hadn’t mastered my emotions like my pimping partner.
Providentially, for us it was a rural area, wee hours in the morning, and no other traffic was driving about. We still had to move real fast before other traffic approached. So that no other cops in the area would be alerted, I darted back to turn off the cruiser’s flashing lights. Afterwards, I pulled out my pussy pink silk handkerchief and wiped down the steering wheel for prints. When my heart regained its beat, I also grabbed the keys and popped the trunk.
Retally8 and I hastily escorted the corpse to the police trunk. We took my silk handkerchief and dusted the trunk for any prints also. I removed the remaining shells, wiped the .38 then tossed it and the bullets in the shrubs beyond the shoulder of the highway. I wasn’t gonna be caught riding around with a gun that has a dead police body on it. We shut the trunk then tossed the keys in the opposite direction from the gun in the wooded area.
My head was pounding. My emotions were racing. This was crazier than some fiction shit that people read about. Beads of sweat raced down my face as I ran over to console the girls and see how they were holding up. They were in complete shock and seemed out of it. Candy was the only one that seemed really alarmed; she was shaking, but I told her that we all would be fine. I placed my hand on hers and said, “Get ready to pull soon as we take off in the Burban. It looks like we are gonna make it to The Transnational Playas Ball after all, all of us. I got this. Just don’t panic and don’t say nothing to no one about this.”
Once we jogged back to his Suburban, Retally8 and I unhappily realized that not all of us would make it. I looked at Retally8 and he looked back at me. We both looked back at his truck. The officer’s wild shot hit an unintended target and the wound to the chest had proved fatal. Ashley was dead. Retally8 calmly kissed her on the forehead, grabbed her limp body, and lifted her out of the seat then carried her beyond the shoulder of the road. I knew exactly how he felt, losing something that you’re not supposed to care about was a strange thing. How can one not have some feelings for someone who takes a bullet for you, takes their last breath trying to please you? He held her hand for a split second then rolled her over in the woods and proceeded to get in motion.
He never flinched, winced or showed the slightest sign of emotion. I realized that he was a pimp's pimp. He got in, wiped the sweat beads from his forehead and smiled wryly, "It’s our time to shine. We gone make it to The Playas Ball. Don't worry at all." He drove off like a freshly branded bull for the next two hours; we drove with the needle damn near buried. I was a little concerned about Candy keeping up, but Retally8 was also a good teacher. He taught her how to drive the shit out of a whip.
About three hours later, we all checked in at little Korean owned motel in Chicago. Retally8 told me he'd holler at me first thing in the morning.
“You alright partner,” I asked.
He smiled as readjusted his sawed off, “Always, I can’t afford not to be.” He wandered off to his room with his hoes in tow.
I was exhausted and I just wanted to rest, mentally. I told the girls to shower ahead of me because I’d be bathing alone tonight. I needed some time to get my spinning head together. Cries, grunts, grumbles, and moans of incessant agony reverberated increasingly inside my cranium. Morbid thoughts and dark demons pressed my spirits. If only my aching skull would let me reflect on how I had become a merciless machine. Why couldn’t I simply feel normal? What was normal anyway? I knew one thing for certain, being cold, being lonely, eating out of trash cans, and homelessness, wasn’t normal. And if it was normal, fuck being normal. I’m C-Note and from this point give me luxury or give me death.
As always, Israeli showered up and came to pull the sheets down for me. It was that little tiny shit that set her apart, such as her attentiveness and her slightly extended smiles. China and Bay both loathed this. Israeli grabbed the lotion and waited on the bottom of the bed so that she could lotion my feet. Unlike the other grumpy bitches, Israeli at least tried to pick my spirits up.
"Hum, one day you won't be the new bitch on the block," sassed Bay as she sashayed her wide naked ass across the room. “You can come rub these bunions when you’re done taking care of daddy’s feet.”
"Aint that the truth," added China as she sat there with her legs gapped open trimming her ‘public’ pubic hairs with a strait blade.
Then Israeli stood up, rubbed the lotion in on her hands and replied, "I'm the true bitch! That's what counts, be true to the game, be true to C-Note. You bitches need to quit complaining. Just because I’m new doesn’t mean I'm not true."
Both Bay and China rolled their eyes and smacked their lips. Bay sighed, “Whatever bitch.”
Although I enjoyed the emotional compensation, I stepped in annoyed in general. "Good. Be a true bitch and get that ass out on the track! I wanted you tramps fresh for one reason, and that’s to go out and get my grip. I want them pussies swollen and musty before the night is over. It aint easy being sleazy,” I slipped a knot of money out of my pocket and tossed it on the bed. “I always have room for more in my stable. How are we gonna make it to the top if we don’t expand our family? You ready to feel some real money, right? Do you bitches think that you are gonna be young forever? You stupid bitches got to demand top dollar now before gravity gets the best of your boobs and bellies. Do you think that you’re going to be able to draw social security when you’re too old and dried up to cap a nigga off? We got work to do—a lot of it. It’s not about having a business; it’s about creating an empire. If you want to live like queens, you got to do queen shit. Get on it," I pointed towards the door with fury in my eyes; Israeli vanished.
In the meantime, China and Bay were happy that I had reprimanded Israeli. I knew that I had to verbally chastise her to keep balance in the stable. I also realized that I was getting soft, I was starting to have a conscious and that wasn't my motto. I believe that the only way to pimp was to pimp hard, real hard. Pushing them pass their normal limit and never letting up. This is what got me this far. This is what kept me from withering away in the empty alleys back in Akron, Ohio.
Bay, come here."
She stopped at the door and walked back over to me with one side of her face still slightly swollen. "What’s up C-Note? I’m sorry for the way I acted earlier daddy, you are a motherfuckin’ machine baby. You dismantled that punk ass nigga earlier tonight. I love that shit."
Although my head was throbbing, I smiled and rubbed my chin, "Are you ready to be the number one hoe at the ball with daddy?" I couldn't believe how her eyes glittered.
"Yeah-C," She replied excitably smiling so hard that I could see the bottoms of her patchy pink and brown gums.
"Good. Work the track fast and hard tonight. Our goal is not to hustle forever. We want to live like nobility, not merely exist like peasants. This shit is about us, not me. Together can make this shit happen. But I want each of you out their hoeing and hustling hard. Are you with me?” she nodded her head in compliance. “Good, show me why you should be number one. Show these other hard-headed hoes how it is done. Bring daddy at least one runaway bitch to the family. Hopefully, it’s a bitch from around here so she can show us the organs of the city. We need to expand while I'm up here anyway. Be aggressive and be impressive." She smiled again, slipped on her pumps and skipped off to the track.
China was still in the restroom putting on her make-up and final touches, I beckoned her to come lay beside me. Hum, she exploded in my nostrils and I delighted in her seductive fragrance. She laid her head on my shoulder smelling fresher than rose pedals. I rubbed my rugged hand against her freshly shaved bald twat and let her love come alive under the spell of my machismo. Her slanted eyes told me so many sentimental things. This moment was precious; she had saved me. All it cost me was the blood and guts of another gorilla pimp, another rabid animal. We were in the concrete jungle where the rules were simple: pimp or be pimped, kill or be killed. The more voracious we were, the more appealing we were to these sick bitches. We were just like animals out in the wilderness, willing to fight and die for our little pissy piece of territory. And what was our prize? You know it, money, hoes, and respect. How can these women be so weak, so dependant? How could any man trust any bitch? The streets kept showing me the dark-side of humanity. It kept showing me that our desire could spread like wildfire and devour anyone in its path. Deep desire combined with desperation ignited dark-hearts and created predators of the worse kind, a menace to society like me.
Suddenly, my thoughts were interrupted as China asked in a soft voice. "C, I know that I was your first whore and I taught you a lot. I enjoyed watching you grow into the pimp you are today. I wanted to be with you, not because I was scared of you but because I believed in you. I seen the fire in your eyes after you killed BAM. Why aint I your number one hoe anymore? You know I love you. You know I’m down for you and only you."
I sat up, rubbed my fingers through her hair, rubbed her chin ever so softly and smiled, "That's simple look at what you're doing?"
She was totally baffled, just like I wanted her to be. "I'm here with you C-Note. What do you want me to do?"
Then I moved closer to her ear like I was about to give her a kiss and all of sudden hollered in her ear at the top of my lungs. "Nothing! Yeah, you taught me a lot and one of those things was what to expect out of a bitch. What are you to me and what the fuck do you think I want?"
She grabbed her wig off the table and whimpered, but it meant nothing.
"You want me on the track C?" she asked absentmindedly.
I placed my bare foot on the flat of her stomach and kicked her onto the floor. "Nah, I want you laying here collecting dust. Bitch this aint no car lot and you don’t have a parking pass." She all but scattered across the floor, picked up her high heels, and spun down the steps off to the track.
I was tired, very tired, and I knew that the girls were too, but all they would do was fucking bicker among themselves anyway. I just needed a few minutes alone, sometime to let my throbbing headache decline. After some meditation, I made some occasional rounds that night to make sure that they were working the new tracks within a four block radius like they had been trained to. It was a new city and I could toss all those bitches three times further than I trusted any of them. I watched them surreptitiously, after all Heavy-B had taught me a lesson about being lax. After collections, I told them that I would be back and they better be making my money.
Accordingly, I returned to my dim room and hopped into the bed. I closed my aching eyes and thought back about mom and how she would turn dates before my very eyes. How dealers had her give them blowjobs as they looked at me and said, ‘Boy your momma can suck the skin off a dick.’ I thought about how weak and unwanted it made me feel, how helpless I was after she died. Pain shot through my head once more, I continued to reflect on the night Blue faded away in his sleep and Brutus ran away. Lastly, I remembered those long cold nights when I watched the fancy pimps stand around talking big shit. Now, I'm one of those pimps, who’s watching me? I simply can’t bear the thought of being on those frozen bitter streets again. I can’t imagine suffering that impossible loneliness and desperation again. I sighed to myself, thought hard about the hardships of the past, and without even realizing it, I had fallen asleep.
A few hours later, all of my hoes returned. Of course those noisy bitches woke me up out of a sound sleep. Israeli came in last but she had a young half breed stray with her. How did Israeli pull this off? The girl looked like she was about fifteen or sixteen. She was smudgy, nothing that cheap lip stick and a short min-skirt wouldn’t workout. China sat her nightly contributions on the table, then so did Bay. I noticed China trying to skip off a little faster than usual so I grabbed her arm and spun her around. It was at that moment that I noticed the bitch was trying to be slick because it was a corner of bill hanging out of her bra. Without saying a word, I grabbed her nipple and twisted that bitch as hard as I could. China’s eyes grew wide with fear as she screamed. “Ohhhh, dammit, that shit hurts C!” She fell to her knees. She looked up at me with vengeance in her eyes, if looks could kill, I’d be dead as fuck. I held out my hand without saying one word. She dug in the bra and handed it over.
Afterwards, I grabbed Bay and examined both of her arms, “You aint been out banging these veins have you?”
She was too tired to even get smart as usual. “No, daddy I’m clean,” she extended both of her arms to me so that I can see for myself. I nodded my head to signify my approval of her retiring for the night even though I knew the bitch was probably lying; she probably shot up in her ankle, pussy, or ass. Last but not least was Israeli; she had made more than both of them together but of course, the new comer was broke.
"What's up with this dusty broke bitch? I don't need any more mouths to feed. Purse first and ass last, baby girl," I asserted.
The girl put her head down. She said dryly, “I don't have a purse.”
“What's this bitch's name Israeli?"
Before Israeli could answer, the girl replied, “Lola.”
I stood up, took a stiff whiff of her rancid odor then grabbed her by the square of her chin. "Did I ask you bitch, speak when spoken to or you're subject to get broke."
Lola turned around and scattered toward the door. I grabbed her by the arm then told Israeli to run her some bath water. Lola was about China's size but a little smaller so I told China to let her wear some of her clothes. Of course, China wasn't happy. Anytime I broke-in a new recruit there would be static from her and Bay. However, getting a new hoe meant making them work harder and having them be more competitive; thus, making me more money. Lola had a small round face and smooth golden skin, but when I got her completely undressed, I noticed that several bruises and a particular scar that was more like a brand on left her upper arm. "What's up with this?" I grabbed her arm with the brand on it.
"My pimp, I mean my first pimp's brand."
I lifted up her arm and studied it. "Sundown, is this your old pimp?"
She turned away, "Yes, he busts nutts from beating on bitches." Tears began to roll down her face.
"Bitch so do I! Don't turn away from me you hobo of a hoe." She tried to look me in the eye but couldn't. "Some of you sorry bitches need to be beaten. I typically don’t get off beating women; I always get off making money. What dream can I make come true for you?"
She gave a phony smile then replied. "You could return my hearing in my left ear and save my baby." Her eyes began to flood again.
"Shit I'm a pimp not a magician,” Although I am into the art of illusion. I continued, “What happened to your baby?" Although I’d never openly admit it, I did have a soft spot for babies. I even thought about having a little of them jokers of my own one day.
She softly grabbed my hand. "The same thing that happened to my hearing, Sundown beat it out of me right before he branded me. I’m still bleeding from losing my baby. He said no one could ever take me away from him, ever. He swore he would kill me first or whoever tried to take me from him."
Fuck this Sundown nigga, he aint gonna do a motherfucking thing to me, I thought. I actually felt kind of bad about her losing her baby but suppressed my emotions; after all, she owned a twat and she deserved whatever she had coming. But I enjoyed the thought of chipping this whore from whoever this Sundown was. It was another notch on my belt. I asserted, “Psst, he made that up. You belong to me and my family now. C-Note will protect you. We both realize that on occasion you may get arrested but I’ll be there to bail you out. I’m your get out of jail ticket. I’m your protection from gorillas of the past, and I’m your personal certified accountant. I will account for every dime you make. Being a man-up pimp, this contract is binding and it is a marriage. The minor difference is that marriage ends in divorce. This ends in death. Are you sure you with this? If not, now is your time to leave."
Lola nodded her head yes then walked over and laid her head on my shoulder. I wrapped my strong arms around her for she was my new adorable prize. Beauty will always be attracted to the beast. She was young and pretty, but most of all hurting. I knew the things that people were willing to do when they were hurting. Emotional pain often drove us to the edge of perversion or some type of addiction. I looked in her hurting eyes and I planned on driving her hurting ass into immoral quicksand. I intended on drowning all of her pain away, one trick, one dick, one hump, one dime at a time. I’m seeking her servitude, not her solace.
––––––––
I lay in bed with Israeli and Lola while Israeli debriefed Lola on the house rules. Israeli sold the contract of servility better than I ever could. Pussy had an influence on pussy that not even python pimping could compete with. Misery truly loved company, and Israeli poured the bullshit on thick. Lola was young and tender, just what I needed. This was just another whore that needed to suffer, that wanted to suffer because of her guilt riddled heart and her empty existence. She wanted to be a part of something bigger than her minute mind, better than her tired pussy, and richer than her meager reality. That’s why I’m here, to push, to punish them, till their lusty wheels fall off and gravity robs them of their anatomical wares or heroine scars every vein in their sin riddled bodies.
Later on in the wee hours at night, I watched them freak, kiss, sip on each other lips. Ultimately, Lola ate out Israeli since her pussy was still bleeding from the abortion. Israeli really got into it and I thought she smother Lola for a short while until Israeli finally seeped her sex sauce down Lola’s face. Once they were finished, I turned over and went to sleep. Of course watching some sexy young chicks freak each other was a turn on, but I had to exercise enormous discipline. Shit, Lola had pay to be with me, period and no broke bitch was getting any of this dick. Many may wonder how could any heterosexual man hold out on such an opportunity but it’s not rocket science at all, for one, it’s just two sick attention hungry bitches trying to excite and awe me so that they could treat me like a typical trick and charge me for the privilege. But I knew that the pimp had to always be the center of excitement. I was the grand prize. Secondly, to counter any anatomical temptation, I merely thought back to when I was a little boy with a mouth full of Mr. Jenkins’ male meat, a perfect way to kill any heterosexual appetite.
By refraining from sexual activity and sleeping until the next morning, I showed them that their display was nothing out of the normal for me and that business always came before pleasure. I was used to women trying to seduce and reduce my mind with their petty sexual performances. This puzzled most bitches, but I showed them bitches that their pussy was worthless to me—unless it was being sold for me. Pussy was a vehicle and I wanted to be the driver of all the profits.
In the morning, Candy came over and invited us to the suite with Retally8. He had his bitches cooking all kind of good shit; my bitches couldn't even boil water. I introduced my new hoe to him and he gave that nod of approval. "To success," I toasted. We gave a toast with some Seven-Up while our whores sipped on some of the finest brandy. “Transnational Pimping Baby. I can’t wait to do my thing in Beijing."
"You a bad boy C-Note, I was too tired and too winded to send them out on the track last night.” He laughed, “and too hungry to send them out this morning."
I watched his mountainous belly jiggle from uncontrollable laughter and japped myself up, "Everyday my bank roll is growing larger, I’m thinking smarter and most of all, I’m pimping harder. When the flag burns, and this great racist ass country falls, our pimping will still be standing proud and tall. We gone pimp from the Pineapple to the Big Apple, from North Dakota to Minnesota, from Utah wall back to Wichita."
We laughed and ate breakfast then put plans together for The Transnational Playas Ball. All I could think about was making my name in the pimp game at The Transnational Playas Ball and becoming part of the who’s who of pimping—a living legend.
That afternoon, my mood was amiss. I tried not to bring up the past, but I just had to ask Retally8 how he could be so cool about losing his numero uno, Ashley. Although I didn’t confess, I was waking up in cold sweats in the middle of the night and had dreams, bad dreams that were constantly haunting me. Pictures of Betty’s and Heavy B’s bloody bodies flickered back and forth in my mind. I just couldn’t seem to put this mental torment away.
He calmly responded, "C I'm a natural born pimp. What would the man have me to be?” he looked me directly in the eyes and for the first time ever, emotion was detected on his face. “I wasn't born to be no janitor swinging around mops and brooms; I’m too fat to be a back-bending, shoeshine boy or agile ass tap dancer. I damn sure aint no athlete. I was born to pimp. Pimp from the head and not from the heart because pimping is a science not an art,” he pointed to his temple. “I don't feel pain because there is no pain. Ashley was a bitch, a good bitch, that's it nothing more or nothing less. Ashley chose me, not the other way around. Some pimps care for their whores; I care for the money. I like my ride, but if my ride gets wrecked, I get over it and get another one; losing a bitch is no different.”
I looked at him and nodded my head as I listened.
Retally8 continued, “Admiration and sympathy for any woman is a major flaw for any pimp, but many could-be-pimps have fallen due to this grave mistake just like Samson fell for Delilah. Think about that, the biggest, baddest, and strongest motherfucka on the planet at that time could defeat an entire army, but crumbled because of a deceitful cum-catching slut. The only thing I love about women is taking their money. Like you said C, I'm a money junkie. How can you love a bitch that hates herself, a bitch that fucks and sucks countless dicks, a bitch that is waiting for the one moment of weakness to take you down? Bitches don’t love you, they love your strength, they love that quality that you hold but they lack. See you can be courageous a million times, but it only takes one time to be weak, and be ruined forever. Bitches can only be loved by a chump trick. I’ll never be married; I’ll never have a typical family C because I’ll never trust bitches. This is the long lonely road that I’ve chosen in life. "
I listened intently but wondered was he just spitting the bull to me. Pimping was a very lonely occupation that provided no vacations. Maybe I was over-thinking shit. But I believe, somewhere down inside of every pimp lies a human being overflowing with the temptation to love and be loved. How can a man roam the earth and never have the desire to love and be loved? Meat and potatoes feed the flesh but love and affection feed the soul. Betty’s frozen corpse continued to flog my memory. I vividly remember her warmth, her shapeliness, her sassiness, her freakiness, and even her laughter. I even thought about the three abortions that I made her have with the thought of, at least two, of those unborn children being mine. Can anyone truly not have any feelings? I guess it’s possible because in a hot-headed, cold-blooded moment, I’ve murdered and sometimes—slept quite well.
Meanwhile, Retally8 counted his money then stacked his dollar bills face up as he continued to talk, "Now if I wake up tomorrow and all the hoes are gone then I’d be hurt. I wouldn't know what else to do. A pimp with no hoes is like a shoe without a sole. It is absolutely worthless.” He sat up and wagged his index at me, “Never trust or love no wicked ass hoe. Rule of thumb, if she’s the proud owner of a pussy, don’t trust her. This life is already filled with body and booby-traps; look around at all of the alcoholics, the dope fiends, gamblers, and pennilessness bums. Many of a man fell into these various forms of vice all because of damn woman. Giving their all to some bitch only capable of taking it all, leaving them to drink, drug, and gamble their life away. Flesh, is a woman’s flesh worth all of this death?"
I stood up and boasted, " Aint nothing I enjoy more than taking good money from bad bitches. Shit we got an obligation to our occupation, we gone be Macking while others are slacking! We the motherfuckin pimps of the motherfuckin year! What them Negroes gone say when we step up in the ball, C-Note and Retally8 pimp the hardest pimps of them all. Nigga try to chip nan one of my bitches, gone snag a back full of bullets. I know this is supposed to be a gentlemen’s game, but I’m changing the game." I reached down for my heater as I remembered I no longer had one. That’s when I abruptly remembered that I had to get another pistol because I had discarded my last one.
Retally8 chipped in on the posturing, "Jack may be nimble and Jack may be quick but Jack don't know jack about some real pimp shit. I'd have Miss Muffet selling pussy off that tuffet. Shit Little Boy Blue can come pay for some pussy too. And old Mother Hubbard’s pussy would be so wide and worn; she’d be able to use it for a cupboard. This is the twisted shit that I’m talking about, Hansel would make Gretel and that old witch sell spiced pussy out of the ginger bread house." We gave each other high five; we knew that tonight would be our time to shine.
