Authors: K. Elliott
Club Z-No was crowded. People were nearly standing on top of each other. The three couples sat in VIP and ordered three bottles of champagne.
JoJo and Nicole were getting acquainted. “So where do you live?” he asked.
“In Charlotte. Just moved here from Ohio.” She smiled.
“You know, I’m really feeling you?”
She giggled a little. “No, I didn’t know that.”
He took her hands. “Damn. You are so soft.”
“Am I supposed to be hard?”
“Hell no. If you were I wouldn’t be here with you.”
“You’re funny.”
“So, am I gonna get to see you when we get back to Charlotte?” he asked.
“That’s up to you.”
Twin interrupted by pulling JoJo aside. “Don’t try to get next to these broads, man.”
“Why not?”
“’Cause you don’t want them to know anything about you, just in case anything happens to them. You know what I mean?”
“I hadn’t really thought about that, but I guess you’re right.”
JoJo rejoined Nicole on the sofa but avoided personal questions.
“My friend,” Manny said as he gave Tommy a hug. They took seats at the bar. Manny ordered two vodka and cranberry juices.
“I need about twenty kilos.”
“Don’t have it … but I can get you ten.”
“I’ll take it.”
“So, are you still fuckin around with that Twin guy?”
“Yeah,” Tommy said. He knew that Manny didn’t care for Twin too much, even after meeting only once to do business. Twin’s money was extremely short, and that didn’t set right with Manny.
“I don’t know… there is something about that guy that just ain’t right.”
“Ever since we were kids, people in the neighborhood called him the evil twin but—”
“And you still dealing with him?” Manny took a big gulp of his drink and said “I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Tommy didn’t respond; he just stared at him. Manny was in his early forties, and he was in great shape because of his morning jogs. His hair wasn’t graying; and his tan skin had no wrinkles. He’d lived a great life, one of wealth and prosperity.
“Another round of drinks,” Manny said to the bartender.
Twenty minutes later, they were on their way to Manny’s mansion, a place where the two of them could comfortably handle the transaction.
When the plane arrived, it was easy to spot the women. They were the only two African-American women on the plane. Security approached them first.
“What the hell is going on?” one of the ladies asked. “I need you two to come with me.”
“Where are we going?” the same lady asked.
“I just need to ask you a few questions.” The man pointed to an
office behind him.
The ladies were hesitant.
Mark Pratt walked over and flashed his badge. “I’m Mark Pratt of
“I think the girls got busted,” Twin said as he paced in Fatboy’s den.
Fatboy picked up the remote control then muted the television.” Why do you say that?”
“Every time I call the phone, it goes straight to voice mail.”
“Really?” JoJo asked.
“Yeah, but we can’t let that worry us. Paige made it through safely, so we got plenty of dope.”
“We should be worried. Those girls know how all of us look. That’s the same way Jamal and Dawg went down—a couple of bitches brought everybody down.”
“Jamal went out in a blaze of Glory.” Fatboy smiled. “Yeah, that nigga was the realest nigga to ever come out of my hood.”
Jamal had been a couple of years older than him, but they were from the same neighborhood and used to get their haircut at the same barbershop. Fatboy remembered all the cars and the beautiful women Jamal had had.
“I ain’t trying to go out like that,” JoJo said. “I heard the same agent named Pratt stayed on their ass. I still remember the name.”
“Jamal and Dawg were stupid, man. They had too many people in their business, and Dawg had partnered up with the undercover and didn’t even know it,” Twin said.
“I guess we’re too smart and we can never go to jail. It can never happen to us, right?” Fatboy said.
“I know it can’t happen to me; because I ain’t selling shit to nobody I don’t know.”
Fatboy grimaced. “You know what, Twin? My dad told me that if I’m ever around a muthafucka who don’t think he can go to jail, get the hell away from him.”
Twin lit a cigarette. “Hey, I didn’t say we can’t go, but I know we are smarter than Jamal and Dawg.”
“Yeah, but we have to learn from their mistakes. We have get out when it gets hot or else,” Fatboy said.
“You know what? Dawg was stupid for selling to the feds; and I don’t feel sorry for Jamal—cause the nigga had HIV and was still running around here poisoning chicks with his dirty dick. He gave shorty that shit and ruined her for life.”
“Fuck all that history talk; we have eight kilos. Let’s get down to business,” Twin said, then he blew a ring of smoke around the room.
“How in the hell did Paige make it?” JoJo said.
“She wanted to go by herself,” Twin said. “Plus she’s white. This is her country, man. Ain’t nobody gonna fuck with a white girl.”
“Okay…where’s our shit?”
“I’ll go get it. It’s in the car.”
JoJo slapped Nia’s ass hard as he entered her from the back. The tattoo of the Tiger on her back made his erection harder. He thrusted deeper before turning her over on her side.
Five minutes later, she turned toward him. He examined her body. No stretch marks or cellulite or anything.
She kneeled and put her lips on his manhood. He grabbed her head. She stopped. “You know I don’t like it when you do that shit.”
He frowned. “Come on, baby, keep going.”
Nia wiped her mouth. “You know I can’t have you degrading me.”
“Is that what this is all about? Degrading? I thought we were just fucking and having fun.”
“Yeah, we are, but you know I got a man.”
“The one I’ve known all my life.”
“And I feel bad about doing this shit sometimes.”
“Hell, me too.”
“I can’t tell; you grabbing my head and shit, trying to make me feel like some slut toy.”
JoJo stood and picked his boxers up from the floor. “You’re the one that started this shit.”
Nia picked up a Timberland boot and threw it at JoJo. “Motherfucker, you gonna put this shit all on me? Remember, you’re the one that used to come around while Fatboy was gone and tell me how nice my ass was.”
“But you’re the one that used to wear all that revealing shit around the house. You wanted me to look at your ass.”
“Fuck you, JoJo.”
He walked over, grabbed Nia by the arm, and kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry. We like each other. That’s all that matters.”
She leaned forward and kissed him. “I love Fatboy, too.”
“I know you do.”
“I’m in a fucked up situation.”
“Think about me; I’m the nigga’s friend from day one.”
“What are we gonna do?”
“I don’t know.”
Nia’s eyes became moist. She stepped away from JoJo’s grip then turned to face him. “I keep telling myself that Fatboy’s impotence is the reason I’m cheating.”
“Well it is, isn’t it?”
“That and the fact that I like you ... I like the way you make me feel, and I like the way you make me laugh.”
“I like you, too, Nia.”
“Come and give me a kiss, nigga.”
JoJo walked over to Nia.
She pulled his penis out and continued her oral performance.
It was Tuesday night when DEA agents Mark Pratt and Ken Clarkson strolled into the club. Jennifer was on the stage with a slew of mesmerized men around her, all wanting a part of the woman with the big hooters and the veneered smile.
“I love you,” said an older white man wearing a John Deere ball cap.
Jennifer blew him a kiss then motioned for him to come to her.
He walked over right away, his eyes on the double D’s. He stepped on stage with two twenty-dollar bills in his hand.
Jennifer grabbed the money and gave the man a kiss, leaving traces of orange lipstick on his jaw. He grinned. She took his ball cap, rubbed it between her legs, and placed it back on his head.
He took the cap off his head and licked it, giving himself some sort of satisfaction. “I love you, Jennifer,” he said, smiling.
She stepped back and pulled her G-string to the side, revealing her vagina for a brief second. The crowd tossed a flurry of fives and tens to the stage.
When she was finished, she picked up her money and strutted off stage, disappearing.
A redhead came over smiling at Mark and Ken. “How bout a dance, guys?”
“Who was the blonde?” Mark asked.
“Jennifer. Do you want me to get her?”
Mark pulled out two dollars and passed them to the redhead. “If you don’t mind.”
She looked at the money, frowned, then passed it back. “Keep your money, hun. I mean, if this is all you got, don’t even worry about it.” Mark took the money, folded it, and put it in his wallet.
Minutes later, Jennifer came over to their booth with a white skirt and garter. She looked at Mark. “Hey, good looking.” Then she turned to Ken. “Hi, sexy.”
Mark extended his hand. “I’m Chris, and this is my friend Dave.”
“So you guys want some entertainment or some company?”
Mark and Ken looked at one another.
“Come on, guys. I hope you aren’t wasting my time,” Jennifer said. She then folded some bills and put them in her garter belt.
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you for a minute.”
“Well, can you at least buy me a drink?”
“Mark looked at the money in her garter belt. There had to be at least three hundred dollars, he figured. And she was asking him to buy her a drink.
“I’ll buy the drink. What’ll you have?” Ken asked.
“Vodka and tonic.” Jennifer sat on Mark’s lap. “I want a double.”
The waitress came and Ken ordered Jennifer’s drink along with two bottled waters.”
“What are you two guys, cops or something?” Jennifer put her hand on Mark’s dick.
He pushed it away. “Why do you ask that?”
“A clean-cut black guy and a clean-cut white guy together in a strip club, ordering waters to drink.”
“You think we’re cops, huh?” Mark said.
Jennifer reached for Mark’s dick again, but again he moved her hand away. “You see, that’s what I mean.”
“What are you talking about?” Ken asked.
“Cops are the only guys that would move a woman’s hand away from his dick.”
The waitress came with the drinks. Ken gave her a twenty and she disappeared.
“So what if I told you I am a cop?” Mark said.
“I haven’t done anything wrong,” Jennifer said, then stirred her drink and took a sip.
“You’re not supposed to drink at work.
“You are a cop, aren’t you?”
“I am,” Mark answered.
Jennifer’s eyes grew big. “Am I going to jail?”
“Depends,” Ken said. He took a drink of his water.
“Depends on what?”
“Depends on if you are willing to help us.”
“Help you do what?”
Mark pulled out his badge. “I’m with the Drug Enforcement Agency.”
“What the hell do you want with me?”
“Do you know a guy called Twin?”
“No, I don’t know nobody by that name.”
“I think you do. We know you were in Miami the other day with him,” Ken said.
Jennifer sipped her drink without responding.
“Weren’t you in Miami a couple of days ago?”
“Maybe ... maybe not. You’re the feds, you tell me.” Jennifer hopped off Mark’s lap and was about to walk away.
“Paige Howard,” Mark yelled out.
Jennifer turned. “How did you know my name, nobody calls me Paige.”
“Telephone bill. Your cell phone is in your name. Your number is 777-9301.”
“How did you get my number?”
“We’re the feds. Remember.” Ken said, smiling.
Jennifer sat beside Mark again. “What do you want with me?”
“We want you to tell us about Twin.”
“I don’t know anybody by that name.”
The redhead came back to the table. She sat beside Ken and smiled.
“Hi,” he said.
“Do you need some company?”
“Actually, I don’t have any money.”
The redhead stood and said, “What the hell are you in a strip club for?”
“Entertainment, honey.” He pulled the back of her skirt up, revealing her ass.
“You loser.” The redhead swiped at his hand then walked away.
“Okay, Paige, you were in Miami, right?” Mark asked.
“You already know that.”
“And you called me and told me that two girls were coming through the airport carrying drugs.”
“I didn’t.”
“Somebody did from your phone. I have a copy of your record, remember?”
“What do you want from me?”
“I want you to be honest with me.”
“And if I don’t?”
“You can find yourself in big trouble,” Ken said.
“I don’t like him,” Jennifer said to Mark.
“A pretty little girl like you wouldn’t survive a day in prison,” Mark said.
“Martha Stewart survived, and I’m a lot tougher than her.”
“Yeah, Martha had four months. Drug trafficking, the last time I checked, carried a mandatory minimum of ten years. Do you think you can do ten years, honey?” Mark inquired.
“I’m not a drug trafficker.”
“That’s not what I heard.”
“Okay, Jennifer, do you want to help us or not?” Ken added.
“I think she wants to play hardball and do twenty years.”
“Twenty years for what? I helped you, remember? I’m the one that called you and told you about the girls coming through the airport.”
“So it was you after all.” Mark smiled.
“I need another drink.”
Mark flagged the waitress and had another vodka and tonic delivered to the table.
Jennifer stirred her drink with the tiny red straw. A pop song played in the background. “So what do you want to know?”
“I want to know about Twin.”
“That’s my boyfriend.”
“Okay…and what else?”
“I don’t know what to tell you.”
“The girls that got busted told us that Twin was the one that put them up to trafficking the drugs.”
“Why would you believe some criminals?”
“They weren’t criminals until Twin put them up to bringing the dope back from Miami,” Ken said.
“You got it all figured out, huh, white boy?” Jennifer said.
“You didn’t look like you had a whole lot of rhythm up there on stage yourself.”
Jennifer stuck her tongue out and gave him the middle finger. “You’re not in trouble,” Mark said.
“Good,—cause I was about to call my lawyer.”
“You don’t need a lawyer yet,” Ken said.
“Yet? What the hell is he talking about?”
“We know Twin is a drug trafficker, and we know that he put those girls up to bringing that dope back.”
“Why don’t you go arrest him?”
“Because we know you had something to do with it. You were on the same flight as the girls, and you called from your cell phone to tell us that the girls were bringing drugs through.”
“Okay.”
“Why would you do that?”
Jennifer stirred her drink, removed the straw from the glass, and licked it slowly. Mark was slightly aroused. “Why would you do that?”
“I did it out of concern.”
Ken narrowed his eyes. “Were you really concerned, or did you want to divert the attention away from you?”
“Attention from me? What the hell do you mean?”
“I don’t know,” Mark said, then sipped his water. “I’m going to take a shot in the dark. Maybe you were carrying product yourself. It’s done every day.”
“Yeah, right.” Jennifer stood, walked off, and looked back at the agents. “I have no time for this bullshit.”
“Okay, Paige, you can talk to us now or talk to us later, but rest assured you will talk to us.”
“I don’t think so. Have a good night, gentlemen.”