Crooked G's (15 page)

“Of course they are, beautiful.” He smiled. He lifted up his tall and slender frame and handed them to her. His sexy swag and golden-brown complexion caused Latrice's stomach to flutter.

She took in the sweet aroma of the heavily scented flowers and started to blush.

“I never had white ones before.”

“I got you the white ones. They symbolize innocence, and that's how I see you.”

Latrice smiled from the unexpected compliment. It had been so long since someone tried to make her feel special. Bay never said anything endearing to her, or gave her flowers, or took her out to make her feel appreciated. Timbo was a thug and a gentleman wrapped in one, and Latrice was feeling on top of the world. She stepped into his car and smiled as they drove off. On the way to their destination, she couldn't help but think that Timbo may possibly be the one to help change her life, and she was looking forward to it.

Latrice and Timbo held hands as they walked out of the restaurant after enjoying a wonderful dinner. Timbo wrapped his arm around Latrice as they waited for valet to bring his car around. They both agreed to meet up again the next night and didn't want the night to end. Timbo's car finally arrived, and he made sure she was secured in her seat before walking over to his side of the car. He was about to pull off and saw a figure quickly approach his window.

“So, Latrice, this is the type of yellow bitch-ass niggas you into? Get the fuck out of the car,” Bay barked.

Latrice's heart dropped not expecting Bay to show up out of nowhere. She was so scared that she couldn't even move.

“Look here, homeboy. I don't appreciate your level of disrespect.
I advise you to back your ass up away from my window before you have a real problem,” Timbo threatened.

When Latrice didn't move fast enough, Bay pulled his 9 millimeter from his waistband and shot Timbo in his abdomen. Latrice screamed as blood quickly soaked up Timbo's gray Polo shirt.

“Get the fuck out the car!” He pulled her through the window. “You thought I wouldn't find you, huh? You were trying to leave me for this bitch-ass nigga?”

“Bay, stop. I don't want to go with you. Somebody help me,” she screamed as her feet dragged across the ground.

Timbo was slumped over in pain as he reached for his gun that was stashed inside the glove compartment. He opened the door and slowly crawled to the ground. He saw Bay dragging Latrice across the street and wanted to stop him. He raised his gun as his shaking hand tried to get a clear shot at Bay, but fired wildly missing all three times. There was no real chance of him dropping Bay without risking Latrice getting hit. He started to fade as sirens were heard faintly in the back ground. Before he could discard his weapon, he quickly blacked out on the ground. Bay had forced Latrice into his car and driven off before the police made it to the scene. Timbo was later charged for reckless endangerment with a firearm and sent to jail.

Latrice cried thinking how terrible she'd left things with Timbo. She never called him out of embarrassment and thought it wouldn't work out between them. Bay hated seeing her with another man. He would always go to great lengths to make sure she wouldn't be happy without him. Latrice hated getting to know new people. She was always afraid that Bay would chase them away, like Timbo. There was no way he could ever find out about her and Teyron. If he did, he would kill his own artist. Latrice prayed that she was
doing everything she could to keep Teyron out of harm's way. She hoped Teyron would understand why.

•  •  •

“Who the fuck was you lookin' at like that, nigga?” Bay said to Timbo, as he approached him in the phone line.

Timbo was the same height as Bay and was able to look straight into his dark eyes. Timbo was light-skinned and slenderly built with tattoos on both sides of his neck and his arms. He wasn't scared of Bay and was waiting to pay him back for shooting him in the abdomen last summer. Now wasn't the best place to get revenge, but it was a good place to start.

“I was lookin' at ya bitch ass. What you tryin' to do, young?” Timbo backed up and threw up his guard. He wanted to beat Bay's ass for shooting him and making him look like a bitch in front of everyone.

“You lil' bitch-ass, piss-colored nigga. I know you ain't trying to see me like that. You sure you wanna get knocked out in front of all these niggas?”

“Stop talkin' and bring it, nigga!” Timbo yelled, accidentally alerting the guards.

The guards ran over and stepped in between Bay and Timbo.

“I ain't do nothing wrong, yo. I just came over here to give him a message and he started bugging the fuck out,” Bay said, putting his hands up while taking the innocent role.

“Yo, don't believe this pussy-ass nigga. He came over here and started talking shit.”

“I don't give a damn what happened,” one of the guards said. “If I see you two assholes at it again, I'm going to throw both of you in isolation. Now break this shit up!”

Bay listened to the officer and walked away, but not before giving Timbo a clever smile. What had happened between Timbo and him was far from over, and he would have to end it before Timbo tried to catch him offguard. Timbo looked at Bay walking away from him and thought the very same thing. One of them would have to die.

S
hakita was back in the city and was still broken by all the money she had lost. She didn't want to go to work feeling all depressed, but she had no choice. She had to keep getting money, hoping to make enough to resolve her problem. She walked into the spa with her sunglasses on not wanting to look at anybody until the receptionist, Monique, called her over. Shakita didn't want to be bothered but went over to see what she wanted anyway. When Shakita got close to her, Monique handed her an envelope.

“What's this?” Shakita asked, confused.

Monique smiled. “It's your check.”

Shakita had forgotten that they got paid every week and needed this money more than Monique knew. She quickly tore open the envelope so she could see the amount.

What the fuck is this?
Shakita said to herself as frustration spread across her face. “Is Eric up there?”

“Yes he is. Would you like me to call him for you?”

“Please do.”

Monique smiled, paying Shakita's anger no mind and placed the call for her. “Yes, Eric. Shakita is here to see you. Okay… No problem.”

Shakita was going to be pissed off if Eric dismissed her visit.

“Here's your card.”

“Thank you, Mo,” Shakita said as she walked away in a hurry. Shakita couldn't wait to get off that elevator so she could tell Eric what she really thought about her check. She arrived and entered.

“Eric. What the hell is this?” Shakita said as she held out the check.

Eric leaned back in his chair. “It's your check. I'm not understanding what the problem is.”

“Eight hundred dollars, Eric! What am I supposed to do with this? You told me I would be making more money than this.”

“Relax, girl. The pay period cut-off day was Friday. That means that check is only for two days. Don't worry; they get bigger.”

“I can't tell. I did all that work and this is all I get?”

“You just started back. If you want more money, you're going to have to rely on your recurring clients. Those men alone should provide you with all the money you need.” Eric spoke unflustered, hoping that Shakita would calm down and see his point.

“What about putting me on the damn purple or black floors? I don't have time to be depending on tips!” Shakita shouted while Eric remained cool.

“I told you already. Those rooms are not for you.”

“You keep saying that and not telling me why. I need to know why.”

Eric thought for a second about what Shakita asked him before he answered. “Didn't I give you ten grand the other night?”

“Yeah. But I asked you for two hundred and fifty.”

“What I'm getting at is if I gave you ten and you have been making good tips, you should have close to twenty thousand or more right now.”

Shakita gave him an uneasy look as he continued to talk.

“And if you still had twenty thousand now, you and I both know
that you would reach your mark right when you need it. So that makes me wonder if you still have the money.”

Shakita became stumped by Eric's assumption of her and didn't feel comfortable being in his presence any longer. She rolled her eyes at him and then walked away. She realized he may have been on to her and needed to do something else to make that money back. If Eric wasn't going to let her in the purple and black rooms, then she was going to have to get it another way. She was going to have to work the corners even though Eric didn't want her to. Yet, it wasn't Eric's life that was on the line. It was hers. If Eric wasn't going to ensure her life, she had to go against him and do it herself. Shakita would hit the streets and start hoeing. She had to make that money.

Eric watched as Shakita left his suite and couldn't understand why she had so many problems with saving money. If he didn't know any better, he would have presumed she had a drug problem. But he knew Shakita better than that and realized she must have still been gambling. He didn't understand why she kept putting herself through the misery of losing. Eric was a risk taker himself but never spent everything he had on only one investment. He was convinced that it didn't matter if Shakita were on the purple or black floors. If she was gambling again, she would still find a way to lose all her money. Even if he gave her the two hundred and fifty thousand that she had asked for, he wasn't sure she would do the right thing with it. Shakita was going to have to make that decision on her own.

Shakita got off work an hour earlier and hit the streets to make more money. She made four thousand in tips for the night but still wasn't satisfied. She left her car parked in the garage and walked up to Logan Circle. This was one of the hot strips that Eric had
his girls work on. When Shakita got on the strip, she didn't recognize any of the hoes except for one, Cotton, a thick white girl who wore her long black hair in a ponytail. Her diamond-studded earrings, electric-pink lipstick, and ultra-short mini dress was her winning formula to getting paid. Cotton labored the corners because Eric wouldn't let her work in the spa. He wanted to keep an environment with only women of color and Cotton's white ass wasn't dark enough.

“What's going on, Cotton? I didn't think you would still be out here.”

“Well, everybody ain't got privileges like you to work in the spa,” Cotton said sarcastically.

“How you know I'm back over there?”

“You know how. We in the hoe business and hoes talk.” Cotton took a pull from her cigarette. “Since you working at the spa, what brings your ass out here?”

“Times are rough.”

“You got some nerve talking about times are rough? At least you get to work on the fucking inside. I'm a rain, sleet, or snow bitch. If anybody got it rough, it's my ass.”

Cotton was very bitter about not being able to work at the spa. The spa bitches had it three times as good as the strip hoes and had no risks to take. Shakita always thought Cotton was jealous when it came to her position, but she couldn't care less. It wasn't her fault that Cotton was born white.

“So how many johns you have tonight?” Shakita asked.

Cotton gave her a nasty look. “Ain't you making enough money at the pussy palace already?”

“No, bitch. Didn't I just tell you that times were rough?”

Cotton raised her eyebrow. “Does Eric know you're out here?”

“No he doesn't and I plan to keep it that way.”

“Well, bitches talk so you better be careful,” Cotton said, giving her fair warning to stay off her block.

“Well, if I find out that one of them bitches is you, then you are the one that will need to be careful.”

Cotton couldn't do anything but suck her teeth at Shakita, and then responded to a trick that had pulled over for her. “You looking for a good time, baby?” Cotton said as she stuck her head in the passenger-side window. The trick agreed with her price and Cotton rolled her eyes again at Shakita before she got in the car and was off.

Shakita knew that Cotton wasn't a fighter and really didn't want any problems with her. Cotton was only mad at her circumstances and not with Shakita. She believed Cotton wouldn't say a word to Eric. If she did, her ass was going down. Even if it did get back to Eric that she was tricking, she really didn't care. He wasn't willing to help her more than he was. She was the only one who cared if she lived or died, and that's why she was out working the corners. Shakita wore a silk violet-colored halter and a black mini skirt as she strutted in her four-inch heels. She was determined to get some money out there and she had three hours to do it before the sun came up.

Shakita was walking hard, trying to get the attention of every car that rode past until one of them finally stopped.

“Hey, baby? You looking for a good time?”

“What can I pay for?” the middle-aged black man asked.

“Two hundred for pussy and fifty for head,” Shakita said as she leaned in the window. “Get in,” the man told her as he unlocked the door to his Camaro.

Shakita got in and they both were off. The man parked his car
in a quiet alley that was across from the House of Kabob on N Street, so that they could get it on. The man only wanted to pay for sex so that's what she was going to give him once he paid up front. She rolled the condom down on his dick until it reached the bottom of his shaft and then climbed on top of him in his seat. The man tilted his seat back and let Shakita do what she did best. When it was all over, the man had definitely gotten his money's worth. He told himself he would return for some of her sweet pussy when he got paid again.