From the Streets to the Sheets (2 page)

But Juicy had done fucked up now. She’d gotten with that broke sherm Gino and let a little young dick go to her head. Monique had laughed her ass off when they dragged that ho through the doors looking like a shit-on rat. They tossed her
and
that fine college-boy Gino down in the Dungeon and fucked them both up real nice.

She knew Juicy’s X had definitely hit the spot when G ordered his boys to bring her upstairs so she could work the poles. Monique’s face almost split in half from laughing so hard, especially when she saw Ace and Pluto dragging that bitch around the corner smelling like old piss and sporting a black eye, a busted lip, and a big red noogie on her forehead.

“Damn, Juicy!” Monique laughed. She had just gotten herself powdered, pressed, and dressed, and she knew she was looking like a cotton candy dream. “Your shit is fucked
up
! I always knew you wasn’t nothing but a low-profile ho!”

That bitch had the nerve to stunt.

“Fuck you, you three-titty bitch!”

“Oh, but ya niggah loves ’em,” Monique taunted her, squeezing her own breasts. “And while your stank-ass pussy is getting scuffed and plunged tonight, he’s gonna be sucking on all three of these titties!”

If she hadn’t hated Juicy so much, Monique mighta felt sorry for her. The girl had been humiliated as fuck dancing up on that stage, but she slid her pussy and legs up and down that pole just like she was told, because she knew better than to fuck with G.

Later on that night Monique got the good news from one of the other girls. Every ho in the house was gonna have a light night, because Juicy was in hot demand. Monique caught up with Pluto and Greco as they were dragging Juicy toward fuck room number nine, and Monique skipped over happily to tell her the good news.

“Juicy, you my motherfuckin’ girl! Them niggahs out there just LOVE you! Your fine ass got twelve chips and a whole line of cash niggahs waiting on you. It musta been that ‘ass thing’ you did that freaked them all out. Whatever it was, thank you! You giving all the other hoes up in here a break tonight!”

Monique had wanted to scream with laughter at the look on Juicy’s face. The high-maintenance bitch looked terrified as shit. As if fuckin’ fifteen or twenty stank-breath niggahs with hard dicks was gonna kill her or something.

“Here,” Monique said, taking some pity on her and passing her a pill from her personal stash. “After the first ten dirty-dicked niggahs screwing and slobbering all over you, you’re gonna need this to help you get through the rest. Later, hater!”

                  •                  •                  •

“What the fuck is going on around here?” Monique caught up with Honey Dew in the dressing room a couple of days later. “Pluto didn’t bring his fat ass home last night. Some shit is up, girl. I can feel it.”

“I’on’t know,” Honey Dew whispered. She pulled her shirt over her head and her butterscotch titties with thick chocolate nipples stood straight out from her body. She cupped them in her hands and thumbed her stiff buds.

Monique eyed them hungrily, but she’d already fucked Honey Dew more than once. The girl was a squirter and had some real soft pussy, but right now Monique was much more interested in whatever news Honey Dew might be able to put her up on than she was on tasting her juice.

“I heard they did Gino, girl. I heard Moonie telling Greco that they took him out by the airport and deaded his fuckin’ ass.”

Monique nodded and smiled. Good. With Gino gone, that meant the path was all the way clear for her and Pluto to slide right into position. G had already fronted almost half the money for the state business licenses and shit, and him and Pluto was gonna ride down there together in about a week so he could pay off the cops and the people who signed off on liquor licenses. After that G said he’d drop a bucket load of bank on Monique so she could hire some girls to work the stage and the back rooms too.

Monique couldn’t wait till they were heading south on the Jersey Turnpike. She’d been fucking Pluto for years, even though he smelled like a dead man and beat her ass and treated her like shit whenever he felt like it. But so what. The niggah was a loyal soldier. He was way up there on G’s team, and rolling with funky power was better than rolling with a fragrant wankster. She’d stick close to Pluto and put up with his shit-streaked drawers and nasty breath until she could get with a strong niggah like G. Maybe she’d find herself one down in the B-More. She was damn sure gonna be looking around.

But shit veered off course for her the next evening when Pluto called her cell phone and told her the G-Spot was closed and to stay home for the night. Monique was suspicious. She knew that amateur-ass Juicy had fallen off on her shit a few days ago, and was too worn out to work the rooms anymore. Niggahs had been tossing their room chips back at Greco and refusing to fuck her ’cause her stank pussy was bleeding and she was talking out of her head.

So vacation time had come to a close for Monique and the other hoes, and niggahs was so full of cum that she’d been forced to take on a double load the night before. Ballers had been horny and wanted to fuck, so Monique had performed all of her little tricks to get them to nut as fast as possible, and Pluto’s call had caught her soaking her sore pussy in a hot tub of water and going over her pole routines in her mind.

“Yeah,” Plutotoldher. “Stay the fuck home. We closed to the public for the night. Ballers only. So keep your ass at home.”

Monique was too suspicious! What kinda private party could G be having that didn’t involve his hoes? She didn’t even like the way that shit sounded, so she had to let a niggah know!

“What up like that? What kinda private fuckin’ party? Why ain’t nobody invite me?”

“Jawn,” Pluto growled in her ear. “I’ll snap your mother-fuckin’ neck! You better remember ya goddamn role. Don’t be asking me no fuckin’ questions. Especially on the air. Just do like I said, and stay your ass the fuck home.”
Click.

Monique had looked at the phone for a second, then threw that shit up against the wall. That stank niggah better not be trying to roll nowhere without her! Just the thought that Pluto might try to shake her off and leave her in Harlem made her face sweat as she sat in all that hot water.

She thought about that shit for a second, and decided it was best to regroup.

Jumping out of the bubbly water, Monique let the stopper out of the tub and dried off real quick. Then she sprayed cleanser all around the bathroom, especially the nasty-ass toilet that Pluto couldn’t seem to aim his dick into, and cleaned it until the room was sparkling and smelled like roses and vanilla. She had already cursed the landlord out and told him they were leaving and not to look for another fuckin’penny in rent, so she hated to waste her energy cleaning an apartment she was about to vacate, but she had to. She had stepped her ass outta pocket with herman, and there had been a killer edge in Pluto’s voice when he set her straight that told her there was more to come. She knew that niggah had a temper, and she knew he had a memory too. If she wasn’t careful he could either ride downI-95andleave her ass stuck in Harlem, or walk through the door swinging his fists and punching her lights out. Unless she got his mood right.

Monique spent the next few hours preparing for her man to get home. She was gonna butter his ass up like a piece of toast. No, like some corn on the cob. He’d walk in the door and find a clean house, a hot meal, and best of all, a docile bitch who knew her proper place and how to keep her fuckin’ mouth closed.

But when Pluto shot through the door around three o’clock in the morning his mood was too crazy. Monique had planned on holding her nose and sucking the membranes out of his fat, nasty dick, but he wasn’t having it.

She’d been lounging on the sofa in a lavender silk robe, makeup in place and smelling real nice, but when she looked up and saw the expression on her man’s face she lost all of her cool and jumped to her feet because what she was seeing was truly impossible.

“What’s the matter, baby? Baby, what’s wrong?”

Pluto’s eyes were red and swollen like he had just finished crying or something. He must have wiped some serious snot from his nose because crusty green streaks had dried up all across his cheeks.

Monique couldn’t imagine what could have her man looking so bent, but whatever it was, she was gonna make it go away. “Don’t worry about nothing, baby,” she cooed as Pluto pushed past her. She followed him into their bedroom. “Monique got you, Big Papa. And I’m here to make you feel good.”

Pluto stopped in the bedroom doorway and cursed, then rushed over to the dresser and began throwing shit out the top drawer.

Monique beamed as she looked around the spotless room that just hours ago had looked like a hurricane hit it. She had folded every stitch in all of his dresser drawers too, so there wasn’t shit he could complain about. “I did a good job, baby. Didn’t I?”

For the first time since he entered the apartment, Pluto actually looked at her.

“Gimme my bitch.”

“Huh?”

“My burner. My piece. It was in the fuckin’ drawer, Monique.”

“Oh,” she said, rushing over to the closet. She flung the doors open and felt around in her shoe bag and took the gat out of a pair of bloodred pumps.

“Here you go, Papa. I just put it up for you, that’s all.”

Pluto snatched the burner from her and walked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Monique hadn’t liked the deadly look in his eyes, and she stood outside the door listening as he plopped down on the toilet and took a piss. She stood there running her mouth a mile a minute and praying he wouldn’t fuck her up after he shook his dick off and came back out.

“You ready to take over Baltimore, Big Papa?” she yeasted him way up through the door. “Your shit is gonna be large! Prolly larger than what G has going right here in Harlem! I mean, his game is tight and all, I’ll give him that. But he ain’t you. He can’t handle no business like you can, and he definitely ain’t got a pocket-bitch like me clocking for him, ya know? Yeah. Let G have Harlem. This shit is played anyway. B-More is where it’s happening, baby. It’s a whole new grind poppin’ off down there, and we about to drop a big bomb and make all kinds of noise.”

Monique heard some funny sounds coming from the other side of the door, and if she didn’t know no better she woulda thought Pluto’s fat ass was farting and crying. She dismissed that notion because her niggah mighta been hefty and stank, but he was one of G’s fiercest soldiers and his reputation spoke loud for him and proved that he was harder than a brick.

“I fried you some shicken,” she sang brightly, damn near stepping on Pluto’s heels as he stomped out the bathroom without flushing the toilet or even washing his nasty hands. “Some shicken thighs and shicken wings. I got some shicken necks in there too.”

Monique didn’t mean to, but she peeked in the bathroom behind him and had to force herself not to choke—both from the smell he left lingering behind, and the two fat turds that floated around in the nasty water where there wasn’t a single sheet of toilet tissue to be seen.

Nasty motherfucker,
she thought.
Learn to wipe your fuckin’ ass!

But all she said as she followed him in the kitchen was, “You know you like my fried shicken, Daddy-o! Can’t nobody fry no shicken the way your Mo-Mo do. First thing I’ma do when we get down to Baltimore and buy us a phat crib is fry my Big Papa a whole pan of shicken!”

Pluto was tearing up the broom closet that she had just straightened up. He came out with a half-empty box of garbage bags, some rubber gloves, and a large jug of Clorox. Monique ignored the look in his eyes, and watched curiously as he threw everything in a plastic shopping bag and headed toward the front door.

“You leaving out again?” She followed behind him whining. “C’mon, Big Papa. You just got here. I got a whole pot of lima beans boiling on the stove too. Fatback all up in the pot just the way you like it. Come on and sit down and eat with me, Daddy.”

She grabbed his thick arm and pulled, then shrank back in surprise as he whirled around and shot her a look of intense hatred.

“Dumb trick!” Pluto grabbed Monique by the back of her head, winding his fat fingers in her hair weave and snatching her back toward the kitchen by her sewed-in tracks.

“Wait!” she cried weakly, wobbling across the floor in her purple stilettos. “I fried you some shicken, baby! I got you some beans—”

“You got you a big raggedy fuckin’ mouth is what you got! Don’t know when to keep that shit closed neither!” He dragged her into the kitchen by the hair, slinging her painfully from the wall, then into the refrigerator, then slamming her into the table and knocking over salt and pepper shakers and two chairs.

“I’ma fry something in here, bitch. Fry your shit up real nice and crunchy for you.”

Monique felt his hands grip her neck and squeeze until her breath caught in her chest and her eyes bulged outta her head.

“Yeah.” He sweated above her. Monique yelped when he pushed the whole pot of beans off the electric burner and forced her face down toward the hot spirals that were glowing orange-red.

“Help!” Monique tried to scream, praying her nosey-ass super was listening through the pipes and would at least bang on the door to distract Pluto and save her ass. She tried to fight him, but Pluto used his body weight to pin her against the stove as he inched her face closer and closer toward the hot coils.

She was screaming and crying and trying to push herself away from the stove. Her thumb skidded across the burner and she shrieked as heat shot up her arm. Pluto had both thick hands on her now. He squeezed her neck with one, and used the other to push her head down so low that Monique felt searing heat on her cheek. Her gold hoop earring heated up immediately, sending fire shooting through her earlobe. A thick lock of her silky Chinese weave hit the burner and sizzled like melting plastic, and pee ran down her legs as her eyebrows and eyelashes started to singe.

“Please . . . please . . . Pluto, baby. Please . . .”

Her face . . . Oh, her
face
! Her right ear was burning like shit and her cheek was being scorched, and Monique was powerless to get away as tears fell from her eyes and hit the hot coils, sending little puffs of steam back up toward her. She closed her eyes and gave up, unable to bear it as her face loomed closer and closer to the orange burner. And just when she was braced to feel her flesh sizzle and her skin stick to the glowing coils, that niggah let her up and flung her across the room. She crashed into the microwave cart, then yelped as she twisted her ankle, fell onto one knee, and then crumpled to the floor.