Smoke and Mirrors (15 page)

“You’re still a young buck in the game, Smoke, but yeah, the 80’s and 90’s were prime time for playas in L.A. He couldn’t believe it when I told him how you handle your girls!” Frank chuckled.

“No one can.” Smoke smirked as he got more comfortable, enjoying the sunlight streaming in the window as the dull roar of his ladies roaming about made him feel a sense of peace and comfort.

“Yeah, but your shit works. He couldn’t believe your whores go to the spa.”

“Get their hair done, too.” Smoke added proudly. He knew what people said about him on the street, but he didn’t give a shit. His notorious unconventional ways worked. “I’m not sending any of my merchandise out looking like they simply didn’t give a shit, and said ‘fuck it.’

“You got that from your old man.”

Smoke nodded, always pleased with the fact that Frank was like a surrogate father, they were good friends, and he was a bodyguard of his women but what attracted him most to Frank was that the man knew his father, inside and out.

“I did.”

“And I told Panther none of your chicks are on the track. He was real curious as to what you were up to, I think he is trying to get back in the game, Smoke.”

Smoke grinned, “I wouldn’t doubt it. Preachers are nothing more than pimps in the pulpit anyway. He may as well stay where he is. The only difference is, I’m not passing a silver platter around asking for donations for the ‘Love Fund’.” He chuckled.

Frank laughed back, “True!”

“Frank, that’s how these bastards fuck themselves over. They are so greedy, they aren’t thinking clearly, strategizing. Track walking should only happen during times of population rich tourist events, such as popular festivals and the like. I don’t want my girls out there like that, garnering police attention and attracting a lower class trick. This only appeals to rapists, killers and men who try to talk them down out of their solid, end of the line price. No baby,” he laughed raucously, “my whores are by appointment only.”

“Yes sir!” Frank said merrily. “You trained ‘em good, Smoke.”

“You have to. It’s an investment. That’s like buying a nice car, but never washing it and letting people leave ashes and food wrappers all inside of it. Why did you even spend all that damn money?! Some of these dumb bastards treat their women like dumpsters. I don’t care if I only spent one fucking dollar on her, I want to make at least hundred back off of her, from that one venture alone. I taught my girls how to fuck better, kiss like they were in love, and how to make a man feel like he was the only person that mattered in the whole goddamn world.

“Exactly, man. Some of these new pimps had forgotten that rule.”

“You can say that again, and here I am, man, right in the midst of them, being coined old fashioned. Money talks. Say what they will, my hos perform quality work! I am selling a dream, a fantasy, one where women act ladylike, man. They dress like sluts, fuck like porn stars, and smile like a sweet, angelic child. Bottom line: this is about money and living a good life, building an empire. One day I will be too old for all this shit.”

“Ahhhh never!” Frank joked, causing him to laugh.

“I’m serious. Panther got burnt out, the writing was on the wall, but he is sniffin’ around again, because he never did get this fix, he didn’t replace it with something that he loved just the same, or even more. I can’t end up like that, Frank.” He exhaled and slicked a cigarette out of his pocket. As if on cue, one his hos entered the room, lit it for him, and disappeared from which she came. “My wealth will have to work for me instead, versus the other way around. That is one of the many reasons I decided to diversify.”

“That, and you’re a smart businessman.”

“Thanks Frank, that means a lot to me, coming from you especially.”

“It’s the truth. Your father would be proud of ya, Smoke.”

A lump formed in Smoke’s throat after Frank uttered those words.

Would he? Would Dad be proud?

But he kept the thoughts to himself.

Thanks to dad, however, his blood was pimp rich. Thanks to
him
, his hos were happy, and he was a rare breed, indeed. Life was good, and damn it, he planned to keep living it up to the fullest. And now…another door had opened. An opportunity, a longing, a desire. He wanted a woman… and her name was Paris. Smoke hesitated for a spell, mulled it over and realized Frank may be his best bet to bounce his recent thoughts off of.

“Hey Frank, let me run something past you real quick.”

“Sure thing.”

“Speaking of Panther, and people going different routes in the life, let me ask you something. I know this dude right, and he met this chick, this lady. He’s a pimp, but he met this chick and what was so strange, is that he didn’t want to turn her out, he kinda wanted to be with her…like, not for money, but like a couple.”

“What?” Frank yelled, as if he was hard of hearing. Frank could hear just fine. He was fifty-seven, fit as an ox, and looked like he belonged in the fucking television show the Sopranos. That was part of his appeal. The ladies loved him, bastards were afraid of him, and he was loyal to the end. He took care of every damn body.

“Yeah, he—”

“Nah, nah, nah, I heard ya.” He chuckled. “Well, that’s kinda weird, ya know, but it’s definitely possible. Shit happens.” He laughed lightly.

“You ever heard of some pimp falling in love, that’s just crazy, right?” Smoke ran his hand nervously over the arm of the couch as he glared out the window, feeling a bit strange, but needing some sort of confirmation that he was losing his damn mind, that it was wrong to feel this way about the woman. Frank would be straight with him, he’d tell him the truth. The most ridiculous part of the conversation was that Smoke knew no matter what Frank said, he’d still be obsessed with Paris, so the conversation had turned rather pointless, but he was going to entertain in, never the less.

“Look son,” Frank sometimes called him that, and well, Smoke kinda liked it. “I mean, like I said, strange shit happens. Almost everybody probably has a first love, so, there are firsts for a lot uh things, ya know?” Frank never lost his East coast accent, despite being in California since the age of twelve. Smoke surmised it had watered down some, but it was definitely still there. It was the craziest thing to hear, but fun and soothing all the same.

This caused him to sit back and think, to toss and turn, try to decipher this shit for his damned self. He was driven to it and through it. Yeah, firsts…He’d only had one
real
romance; the rest proved to be sensual subjugations and hardly a sexual conquest, a relationship made. But one rainy night while he sat at LAX, daydreaming as a teenager, just like he used to do while watching the planes take off and land, he recalled a woman named Cheryl as the planes soared by…

She was his first love, his only love. From time to time he’d think about her, wondering what she was up to and how she was doing. He hated himself for how he’d done her at the end, but he was hurting so badly when his old man died, he didn’t know how to handle it. He could have had her V-Card, that’s how much she loved him. She’d offered it to him when he called the shit off, crying, holding on to his shirt with her little white fingers, pulling, trying to keep him close. The girl had been scared to give in, to be penetrated for those entire months prior, and he’d waited, sometimes begged, but she never gave in. He stuck by her because he loved her too much, yet, when he’d said goodbye, she tossed the pussy his way, using it as payment, collateral for him to stay in her life. He knew then, at that precise moment, that hurt women perceive pain as pleasure and lust as love. They’d give themselves away to a man who wasn’t worthy to even be in their presence, just like his mother had, and now Cheryl, too.

For a split second, he contemplated laying her ass down on her narrow twin bed with the thin pink sheets, and taking what he’d wanted and pleaded for…but he just couldn’t for a little piece of his innocence lingered inside him, scratching his subconscious just below the surface, and it warned him to not be her first. She deserved a good man, a square, one that would be gentle with her soul. That man wasn’t him because he was morphing, changing, growing into something beyond his control. This new persona was being nurtured by cruelty; its water was complacency and its soil a cold, impenetrable heart with no sun or moon, only a blizzard like atmosphere that was certain to keep it emotionally stunted, sentimentally decapitated and mentally deranged. And now, here he was contemplating and doing shit completely out of character. Or was it?

“…I’ve lost my fucking mind.” Smoke whispered as he rubbed his forehead, leaning forward at the waist as if he had to hurl. “…Another woman, another damn Cheryl…I thought I’d grown out of this shit…How could I even entertain something like that again?”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Come off of it! What’s on your mind, boy?” Frank demanded. “And you can’t shit a shitter! I know this bastard you are talking about is
you
!” He cackled. “What the fuck have you gone and done, Smoke?”

A sense of silliness infused with a dash of panic seized Smoke’s gut as he immediately rose from the couch and stormed out the house, his cellphone gripped in his palm. He stood out in the front yard, away from earshot from his entire stable.

“Frank, if you tell anyone this, I’ll kill you, man.” Smoke said seriously. “Look,” he huffed, then looked over his shoulder ensuring the coast was still clear, “You know a Madam lives across the street from me, right?”

“Of course I do,” he laughed leisurely, “They’ve been talking about it.”

Smoke tossed his cigarette on the walkway, and smashed it to the death with the tip of his shoe. A tendril of smoke escaped from the side of his mouth as he slid his free hand into his pocket, and began to pace back and forth along the sidewalk.

“I’ve been checking out her place, watching it.”

He’d already confessed to Paris he’d been watching her for a damn month. The truth—it had been more like six weeks, and he’d even lied to himself about the duration, loath to creep his own self out.

“I needed to study my competition.”

“…I bet you did.” Frank stated, with an obvious air of disbelief.

“I’m serious, it became a job, Frank. Look, I’d get up in the morning, lift weights, and then take a shower. Check in on the stable, and fix some coffee and a little breakfast or pick something up on the way over. Then, I drive over here, to the apartment building before their shifts begin, pull up a chair in front of a window, preferably in the parlor, and watch the johns start to roll in the establishment across the street…

“I know her schedule down to a tee. It feels like I’ve known her a long ass time, actually…and she’s fucking beautiful.” he felt his whole face getting hot, flush with warmth as he stood under the blazing sun.

“And what?”

“I don’t believe this shit is one sided, Frank. I think she wants me, matter of fact, I know she does.”

“What makes you think this?”

“She called me with her number blocked…didn’t leave a voicemail.”

Frank burst out laughing. “So a woman that doesn’t want you to have her number, is a sure sign that she is thirsting for your cock?! Come on, Smoke!” The man was now drowning in a whirlpool of guffaws.

“Let me finish!” He barked. “Look, I knew what she was doing, it is hard to understand, but she wanted me to call her. And I did. Now, we talk all the time. Sometimes I call just to say good morning, but she likes it…and I think she waits for my ass to call her now, too.” He smiled. Oh yes, he smiled big as he glared across the street at her spot.

Smoke had stepped up his game, became what she needed, what she wanted, but most importantly, it was within him all along to be all that she could ever imagine and then some…

“Okay, okay, okay,” The man simmered down. “All jokes aside. So you like this madam right? But like what are your intentions, Smoke? You’re not a settle down kinda guy.”

“I don’t know about that anymore, Frank.” He kept glaring across the street as he spoke lowly. “We’re strongly attracted to one another. I’ll admit to you, I never thought I’d be in a predicament like this. In those mornings and afternoons of watching her, and all of our conversations, I’ve come to a new realization.”

“And what’s that?”

“I like her more and more each day…”

Frank cleared his throat, breaking a short silence. “What do you like about her?” he asked.

Smoke smiled, he couldn’t help but feel warm inside as he thought about her now.

“The little things the most, the stuff a lot of people wouldn’t notice. For example, I like the way she fumbles with the wires of her mp3 player; they always twist up, causing her to frown in frustration as she leaves her apartment building to start her daily run. I like how she throws her head back when she laughs… One day she and her girls were out in the heat planting flowers. Something so simple turned into something so beautiful, man.” He kept staring at that house, feeling as if he were falling into a daydream. “She picked one blood red tulip from the ground and tucked it behind her ear. I wished I could have touched her at that moment…”

“Oh, Smoke…you got it bad, man.” This time, Frank offered no laughs, no jokes.

The man knew he meant every word, and there wasn’t a damn thing humorous about it. It was happening; the beginning of the end had already come and gone.

Smoke took a deep breath and swallowed. He trusted Frank with his eyes closed. The man kept his business matters to his damn self, never squealed him out, and he was true blue.

“Frank, I wanna tell you something.”

“Sure, Smoke. I laughed at cha, but…I understand now. I won’t repeat any of this. You have my word.”

“Yeah, well, I haven’t been happy for a while, man…” Smoke looked down at the grass, becoming temporarily mesmerized with how the blades moved about in the slight breeze.

“What’s the problem?” Frank asked seriously.

“It’s kinda hard to explain, but, it’s just a feeling, you know? I don’t know.” He licked his lips and shook his head. “Frank, I’m about to tell you something that I’ve not told anyone else. Not too long ago I had a nervous breakdown, and attempted something I never imagined I’d do. Up until this point, I somewhat regretted I didn’t go through with it, but…in a way, she gave me another reason to be thankful I didn’t, to remember that things could get only better, that maybe,”—he swallowed then looked up at the bright sky—“Maybe, a tiny golden flash of a newfound promise was possible. But you had to wait and see, you had to stick it out a little longer to find out.”