From the Streets to the Sheets (15 page)

“Mmm,” Goody moaned, stripping out of her G-string, then gently pushing Kirsten onto the bed and pinching her nipples until she squirmed and groaned.

“Like that?” Goody asked, taking one of the pink peaks into her mouth, flicking her tongue over it, then licking her way down between Kirsten’s legs.

“Yes,” Kirsten admitted while Power released himself from his pants, strapped up, and positioned Goody’s ass up in the air.

Spreading her booty cheeks, he tickled her clit with one finger, stuck two others in her pussy. Like a pro, Goody lap-danced on his hand, swishing her loaned-out liquid in circles as she dipped down and up, making herself warmer and wetter with each bounce of her hips. Getting into Power’s groove, she arched her back in anticipation of his dick, ignoring the snow bunny’s naked flesh.

Pushing Goody’s head back down, Power instructed her to keep licking as he positioned himself between her lower lips, and pushed his hugeness inside her with one single plunge. Goody hollered out in shock, pain, pleasure, then got back down with the get-down as he worked her middle until it spilled over.

The cell phone buzzed on his hip just as he was about to bust. “
Fuck!
” he complained, but didn’t hesitate to answer the call. Pulling out, he decided he could get his rocks off anytime. Pussy waited on him 24/7. But come-ups like the one he’d planned came through only once in a lifetime, if a nigga was lucky.

“Gimme what’chu got,” Power answered.

“Enrique’s real stash is near 115th and Lexington. My boy’s got a spot on 112th right off Lex, so watchin’ him ain’t a problem. I already know how many men he got workin’ days.”

“Cool. Hit me lata—”

Whiz laughed. “Ya forgettin’ somethin’.”

Power rubbed his stubbled chin. “What’s that?”

“Ya girl Flame, nigga! You want me to go get her or what? You know Enrique’s still holding her. He’ll let her go for a brick—from me anyway. But he’s out for ya whole ass!” Whiz laughed.

Power looked back, saw his snow bunny’s face buried between Goody’s legs, and grinned. “Let ’im keep her, it’s too risky,” he said, slapping Kirsten on the ass. “If she slipped and got caught once, she’ll do it again. I can’t let no broad bring death to my door. Plus, how ya know that nigga won’t bank you soon as you hand the bird over?”

Whiz choked on the other end of the line, then exhaled smoke as he spoke. “You a cold mu’fucka, Power. You just gonna leave Flame to the wolves like dat? After her being down wit’chu for a nickel?”

Power shook his head. Whiz had all the connects and could find a grain of red dirt in a sandstorm, but he was slow when it came down to broads. “Letmedo me. Flame knew what kinda nigga I was from the door. Let her charge it to the game!”

                  •                  •                  •

Flame sat as still as she possibly could and tried to disappear into her chair as Enrique hemmed up one of his workers, slapping him around and pulverizing his face until he was barely recognizable. She winced every time the man cried out and pleaded for his life. She empathized with him because she too was bargaining for hers.

“What up,
mami,
” Carlos, one of Enrique’s soldiers asked.

“Que? Did I hear you speak to Flame,
cabron
?” Enrique turned his rage on his worker. “You don’t fuck wit my money, right? So don’t fuck wit her.” He looked at Flame. “Mami’s got dineros in her cho-cha. Dat’s right, right? There’s money in your pussy? At least thirty-four grand.”

Flame froze. She didn’t know if she should answer him.

Enrique snatched her by her red hair and pulled her to her feet. “Show me some fuckin’ respect when I talkin’ to you. I show you some just by lettin’ you live.” He spat in her face and mushed her back down onto the chair.

Flame balled up and cried like a baby, hoping Enrique would ease up off of her. Grabbing her temples, she screamed. She was doing the best she could to pay back Power’s debt, selling her ass and soul, and hadn’t a thing to show for it. But tomorrow that would all change.

“
Mira,
that way.” Enrique pointed toward the bedroom door, and Flame dropped her stare at the floor. “Don’t act like you don’t know what the fuck I saying. All
morenos
know ‘
mira
’ means ‘look.’ Take ya ass in the back ’til I finish here.
Comprende?
”

Fuckin’ Power.

The room was hot and stuffy, with barred and boarded-up windows. Flame sat on the edge of the bed, tears streaking her pressed powder, and wondered what her sister, Mercedes, was doing to survive without her. Flame had been the one to feed, clothe, and make sure Mercedes had had a proper education ever since their momma decided to trade them in for a heroin kick almost seven years ago. She’d given up her dreams of going to college, learning a trade, having a workingman who pulled a 9-to-5, to make sure her sister didn’t have to live the life that she did. No one deserved the shit she was putting herself through for Power. She exhaled and sighed, wiped the tears from her face and assured herself
I ain’t doin’ nothin’ for Power that he wouldn’t do for me. He’s gonna come through. Got to.

Enrique stood in the doorway eating out of a bowl. “You hungry,
mami,
” he asked as if he hadn’t just spit on Flame. “There’s
arroz con pollo
and sweet
plantanos
in the kitchen.”

Flame just shook her head. Her stomach was growling, but she didn’t feel hungry. Stress had fucked up her blood sugar levels. “No thanks,” she answered, remembering Enrique’s
talk
on respect.

Enrique dragged his slippered feet into the room and sat next to her on the bed. Softly, he touched her shoulder, and she flinched and trembled. Setting the bowl down on the white sheets, he rubbed her face with the back of his hand. Instantly, her tears came to life again, running down her face like she wished she could haul ass up out of there.

“Listen to me, Flame. I don’t like hurting you,
mami.
I a business man, not a bully. And I know this ain’t your fault, but you bait—the only thing Power’ll come back for.” He held up his hands, then let them fall to his lap. “Then again, maybe not. He not show up yet. Why you stayed with this nigga?” he asked, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know. He ain’t hard, all that tough shit he be slangin’ ain’t nothin’ but window dressing—a front. If you was mine, Harlem would’ve been raining with my bullets the minute I found out you was snatched.”

All Flame could do was nod. Enrique had made his point, but she knew her man better. And he was gonna come through. She’d put her life on it.

“So, what up with that vic? You ready to move? ’Cause I can’t let you hit ’im with the bad news by yo’self. Carlos or Crazy Lucky will go wit’chu.”

Flame relaxed a little, knowing that she had just the right thing to say. “I’m good to go. You just say when.”

Enrique patted her knee, and a seldom surfacing smile crept across his face. “That’s what I wanna hear,
mami
! Matter fact, I going to be there to hold you down myself. As much work as you had to put in to keep me happy, I wanna see the smile you have for me when you get to walk away. Tomorrow,” he said, confirming when their lick was going down.

                  •                  •                  •

Power sat in Slim’s Pussy Palace for the fourth day in a row, drinking and slangin’. Posted up at the bar, he sloshed his Henny and Coke in his glass, then threw back his head, downing what was left. Rapping his knuckles on the bar to take Slim’s attention away from a knucklehead, he held a finger in the air, signaling he wanted a refill.

“Come the fuck on, Slim. How long I done known you, and you got a nigga waiting?” he slurred.

“Got-dammit, boy,” Slim said, moving his heft slowly. “I’m tryin’ to help yo black ass make a dime.” He slammed an empty glass in front of Power and started pouring Hennessy. “But if you don’t wanna get paid . . .” He finished making the drink, splashing a little bit of soda in the tumbler, just barely coloring the cognac.

Power perked up. “Talk to me, then.”

“Money over there,” Slim tilted his head toward the other side of the bar. “That’s my boy Low. Been knowing him for years, and he’s good. Well he lookin’ for a lil sumptin’ sumptin’. Looks like his supplier got knocked, and I don’t mean by the police.”

Power nodded. “What’s a lil somethin’?”

“Few eights.”

“Ya sure that nigga straight?”

Slim frowned up. “Nigga, if you can’t trust me,
shiiit,
that mean I can’t trust you neither. And I let you do your dirty in my spot.”

Power stood. Gave Slim a pound. “Tell him I said he has to use the bathroom. Real bad.”

                  •                  •                  •

Flame arrived at her and Richard’s fuck spot two hours before their lunchtime date and played maid. Searching dresser drawers, under the bed, behind furniture, she packed everything that could prove she’d ever been there, dumped it in the incinerator, then called the super and pretended like she’d lost something to make sure the trash was already burning. With bucket after bucket of bleach and water, she scrubbed down everything, practically Cloroxing the place to death.

At noon, Richard’s key clicked in the lock. Flame posted up on the sofa wearing nothing but a smile and the little black nightie he’d bought her from Vickie’s Secret that said everything but “Hush.”

“Hello, my chocolate kitten,” he said, dropping his briefcase.

Flame’s nerves were rattled again, but she pushed them aside knowing this would be the last day she’d be his “chocolate” anything.

“What up, Rich,” she replied, emotionless. No longer did she have to coo and pretend, roll over and fuck. The game was over, and Enrique and his crew were hiding in the back room.

Richard walked over to her, confusion etched on his face. “Bad day?”

“Could be worse,” she said, then stood and switched up her mood a little. “I just need to take a shower, relax a little.” She ran her fingers through her wild hair. “Can you meet me in the room when you get settled and help me undress? Please, Daddy?”

“Sure, I’ll be there as soon as I leave my client a message.”

Flame closed the door behind her, nodded okay to Enrique when he pointed toward the closet, tossing her clothes to her. Huddling, her body began to tremble as she thought about the fear Richard would soon face. She hated to do it to him, but when it came down to it, it was either him or her. Reflecting on all the “chocolate whores” he’d called her, she shook the feeling and decided that he deserved what was coming to him.

She heard the door open, a short scuffle, then a burner cocked. Enrique called her name, and she knew the game was over. Quietly, she opened the door as if creeping would make her less accountable. Keeping her eyes on Enrique, she stood there waiting for instructions.

“Tell ’im what’chu want,
mami.
”

Flame looked at Richard, forced a scowl on her face. “I want the deed to your house. Not the place you and your family live in, your vacation house. The deed.”

Richard laughed nervously. “You can’t be—”

Enrique’s henchman, Crazy Lucky, gun-butted him. “Shut da fuck up. Let’er finish.”

“Oh, but I
am
serious. Let me show you how serious,” she said, gulping back the embarrassment she knew she was going to face once she played the DVD. Inhaling deeply, she pressed
PLAY
on the VCR. When she saw her lips wrapped around Richard’s dick she gagged. When he fucked her from behind, her stomach turned and its juices pushed up through her lips, thick and dripping. But when she heard Richard’s voice tell her he loved her, she wiped that nastiness away and smiled at three words that would seal the deal.

Enrique watched her, concern masking the usual “I’m hard and I takes no shit expression. “You a’ight,
mami
?”

Flame nodded.

“Can I speak now?” Richard asked.

“You got the floor.” Flame gave him permission.

“But why? How?”

Enrique stepped in. “Easy, give her the deed, you get the tape back. Otherwise . . .”

“I sell it to your wife,” Flame finished for Enrique. “I already know what kind of prenup you have—some info ain’t too hard to come by if you know the right people—and if she gets her hands on this, you fucked kid.” She winked, knowing she was lying about the prenup, but didn’t care. Richard and his wife had been together fifteen years, she’d helped him build his law practice from the ground up, so justice pretty much guaranteed that the Mrs. was entitled to half. It didn’t take a genius to add two and two.

“But I don’t have my deed on me. This’ll take lawyers and time.”

Enrique laughed, deep and hard while dialing a number on his celly. “You can’t be serious, bro. You a fuckin’ lawyer, all you need is to sign here,” he said, handing a batch of papers to Richard, pointing to a signature line. “And our friend here . . .” he patted one of his boys on the back “. . . is a notary public, and this person on the phone, this my attorney. He’s just gone hold a lil somethin’ of yours for collateral.” Enrique paused, turned his attention to his cell and said a couple of words. “Looks like yo collateral can talk.” Enrique handed his phone to Richard.

Flame watched agony twist Richard’s red, defeated face as he listened to what was being said on the opposite end of the line. He winced when Enrique snatched the cell and closed it. Tears gathered in his eyes. “My
sister
? You’ve taken my sister for collateral? I wouldn’t have stiffed you guys.”

Flame rubbed Richard’s face, then kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry, ain’t nobody gonna hurt Becky.” She smiled, noticing him flinch when she mentioned his sister by name. “She just met a wonderful man who she couldn’t resist and decided to hang out with him. It was all on her—we just planted the bait, she went for it,” she continued to assure him, finding a sense of relief in knowing she was telling the truth. “Just hand over the deed, Richard. You got five hours left. Work it out by the end of the day, and you’ll get Becky back.”
And Enrique will let me go too.

“You good,
mami.
Real good, and I ain’t talkin’ ’bout what I seen on tape,” Enrique said, then whistled loudly. “But that was some hot shit too. So tell me, what’chu plan to do wit your life after tonight?”