Trap House (14 page)

“Yeah. We had like ten stacks,” Pony said, grossly overdoing it.

Marcus cringed at the obvious lie, but since it was in the air, he ran with it. “Yeah, so look…
we gon’ need you to hook us up with something on the face. Ima get it to you tomorrow,” he asked
confidently.

“Damn, man. I feel ya pain, but you know I don’t do no credit,” P.I.G. said as the opportunity to
set his own plan in motion unfolded. Tiffany and Wanda would be arriving soon, so he had to move
fast. “Tell you what I can do…” P.I.G. said, pausing for effect. “Y’all put on a little show, and I’ll
break ya off once you’re done.”

Marcus looked over at Stephanie, known to give the best head in three states, and agreed
eagerly. He couldn’t believe his good fortune: head and some getting’ high! “That’s what’s up!” he
exclaimed, jumping to his feet. He was tugging at his zipper as he headed over to where Stephanie
was sitting.

Stephanie, who would suck a dead man’s dick for a hit, sat up in anticipation.

“Uh, that’s not quite what I had in mind,” P.I.G. spoke up. “I want you to suck his dick,” he said,
motioning toward Pony.

Marcus looked at Pony, then down to his crotch as if he was actually considering it.

“I ain’t with no gay shit!” Pony spoke up angrily.

P.I.G. was pressed for time, knowing Tiffany would be there momentarily, so he enacted Plan
B. “Gina!” he yelled loud enough to be heard in the rear.

A few seconds later, the handicapped girl appeared in one of the skimpy outfits P.I.G. kept her
in to showcase her well-developed body.

“Go on and knock her off,” P.I.G. demanded to Marcus, who wasted no time complying.

Pony felt sick to his stomach as he watch his friend slam himself into the expressionless girl.

Marcus was so enthralled in the act that he didn’t hear the knock on the door or Earl opening
it.

“Hey, Tiff.” P.I.G. chuckled. “There go Marcus.”

It took Marcus a few more strokes for his mind to process what he’d just heard. He turned just
in time to see Tiffany’s back as she ran from the house.

“You a real piece of shit, P.I.G. You knew we was coming,” Wanda spat at the obvious setup.

Meanwhile, Marcus went right back to humping the girl as if nothing had happened.

P.I.G. was immensely pleased with himself.
No way she’ll go back with him now
, he thought to
himself.

* * *

Back at the filthy hotel, Marcus and Pony frowned at the eight ball on the table.

“I should smoke this by myself since I did all the work.” Marcus laughed, only half-joking.

“Man, something gotta give. We can’t keep going out like dis.” Pony sighed. The events of the
night weighed heavily on his mind. People died. A child got molested. His best friend was ready to
blow him. And for what? The eight ball on the table.

“All we need is one good lick, and we good,” Marcus coaxed, sliding a chunk of the drug to
Pony as an incentive.

“We could get a pack and do our thang, huh?” Pony asked as he loaded his shooter.

“Shit, nigga. We could get money, hoes, everything,” Marcus said enthusiastically. Marcus
wasn’t sure if he heard his friend’s reply properly and asked him to repeat himself.

“I said I’m down!” Pony repeated emphatically.

* * *

Marcus pulled the car in front of their intended victim’s house and cut the engine. “You ready?”
he asked.

Pony nodded his head in agreement.

“Nigga, I said, is you ready?” Marcus repeated, seeking a verbal commitment.

Instead, Pony pulled his ski mask down and got out of the car.

Marcus got out and followed him up the walk.

Red wasn’t expecting anyone but rushed to the door nonetheless. Ever the businessman, he
loathed the chance to miss a deal. He’d grown so comfortable with his personal rep and that of
his sons that he thought no one would try him. It was that hubris that made him pull his door open
without bothering to check and see who it was. Red realized his error immediately as the two
masked men pushed their way inside, guns drawn. “You boys sure you want to do this? You do
know who I am, right?” he asked warily.

“Shut up ol’ man!” Marcus said forcefully as he shoved the man backwards.

“Yeah. You know what this is,” Pony said, his voice strained with fear.

Red let out a heavy sigh as he reached into his pocket. “Here ya go,” he said, producing a huge
wad of cash that satisfied Pony instantly.

“I got it. Let’s go!” Pony shouted excitedly after snatching the cash.

“Fuck dat. I want it all. Where da rest at, ol’ man?” Marcus growled menacingly.

“Man…I know you!” Red announced, his face contorted by the recognition.

“You don’t know me, nigga,” Marcus stammered, attempting to drop his voice a few octaves.

“Come on, Marcus. We got the money,” Pony said, nearly panicked.

“Marcus?” Red chuckled. “Boy, I thought that was you.”

Marcus pulled the now-useless ski mask up and raised his gun. “Gimme da rest of dat dough,”
he demanded.

“What the hell you doing?” Pony asked desperately.

“Don’t matter now. We might as well go all da way,” Marcus said, inching closer.

It was at that instant that Red understood that Marcus intended to kill him. Being the A-Town
vet that he was, Red sprang into action. He knew Pony was the weak link, so he went for his gun.
Pony screamed as he and the older man wrestled for the weapon. Red was bigger and stronger
than Pony and almost had him subdued until Marcus intervened. He calmly walked up to Red and
literally blew his brains out the side of his head.

Pony screamed even louder as blood, bone, and brain matter splashed on his face and shirt. He
felt his knees buckle and struggled to stay conscious.

“Come on! Let’s find dis money!” Marcus demanded.

Pony followed Marcus into the master bedroom and began to search. Marcus dove into the large
chest of drawers, while Pony hit the nightstand. They were tossing out the contents of the drawers,
ransacking the room. It only took a couple of minutes before they hit pay dirt.

“Come on! I got it!” Marcus yelled, holding up another large wad of cash.

Pony abandoned his search inches short of where Red had over $100,000 tucked away. The
$10,000 Marcus found plus the $3,500 from Red’s pocket was more than the junkies expected to
find in the first place.

In a flash, they fled the house and pulled away from the murder scene.

Pony vacillated between rage and remorse, crying and cursing as they sped away.

Marcus, on the other hand, was eerily calm. The demons in his head were satisfied. They had
been urging him to kill for months, and now he had. “You acting like a real bitch right now,”
Marcus said calmly. “Nigga, we ‘bout to come up.”

* * *

P.I.G. gave them the choice of buying a half a key of whipped cocaine for seven, or the same
amount of the glass for eleven. They chose the latter. Most young cats would have gotten the whip
even though the smokers didn’t really like it. Being junkies themselves, they opted for the better
product.

“Good choice,” Earl said, congratulating their business decision. “Y’all ‘bout to get rich with
this,” Earl said, completing the transaction. He knew that once the high-quality coke hit the streets,
they would bubble quickly. He also knew they would fuck up just as quickly.

“Wonder who they robbed,” P.I.G. said once they left.

“I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough. They better never try us though,” Earl replied.

“They know not to try me!” P.I.G. said smugly, confident in the fact that Earl would protect him,
just like he always had.

CHAPTER 12

B
oth women were in their respective rooms, preparing to go to work at the club. For Tiffany,
that entailed selecting an outfit suitable for her first night in a strip club. Several outfits
later, she settled on a pair of tight-fitting jeans and a matching shirt. After much debate, a pair
of two-inch heels were given the honor of completing the ensemble. “You go, girl,” Tiffany told
the reflection in the full-length mirror. She took a hearty pull from her cocaine-laced blunt as she
studied her figure. She did a little dance as she thought about how Wanda kept urging her to strip.
“Uh-uh.” She giggled shyly at the thought.

Wanda was preparing for the night as well. After a shower and a douche, she applied a high-
priced fruity concoction from Victoria’s Secret. She inhaled deeply, savoring the mango-peach
aroma. Now that Tiffany would be bringing in some extra money, she planned to get strawberry-
watermelon next.

She intended to squeeze the young girl for everything she could. Once she got her to dance, she
would be open for anything. Then she and Mike could seduce her, easing the way for her to turn a
few tricks. “Just a matter of time,” Wanda told her reflection. “Just a matter of time.”

She took a break from applying her make-up to load her straight shooter. The blunts just weren’t
doing it for her anymore. Wanda knew she had to be discreet about it because Mike would lose
his mind if he found out she was on the pipe. He hated her smoking primos, even though he was
the one who introduced her to cocaine and still snorted himself. He had lost too many girls to the
pipe as it was. “What he don’t know won’t hurt him.” Wanda shrugged before lighting her pipe.
Her eyes grew large in the mirror as she twisted and turned the pipe under the flame. She held the
smoke as long as she could before exhaling a putrid plume, then continued embellishing her pretty
face.

* * *

Wanda suggested they take separate cars since she intended to spend the night at Mike’s condo
once the club closed for the night. Tiffany followed closely, consumed in her thoughts all the way
up Moreland Avenue.

Club Chocolate was a small, nondescript, freestanding building across from a twenty-four-hour
grocery store. Tiffany realized she must have driven by it a million times and not even noticed. At
night, though, it stood out like a garish sore thumb, illuminated by a ton of tawdry neon lights.

It was far too early for the ballers who frequented the establishment to be out, so the parking lot
was near deserted. Soon, though, the parking lot would hold millions of dollars’ worth of exotic
vehicles. A small section of the lot next to a side entrance was reserved for dancers. It was well lit
and monitored by security cameras.

Wanda scoped Mike’s new Porsche truck in front of the building. After parking, she and Tiffany
walked around to meet him. As they approached, Mike was engaged in an animated conversation
with the club bouncers. Tiffany blushed inwardly upon seeing Mike, remembering how she used
his voice, his growls, to help her reach an orgasm the night before.