Big Juicy Lips (23 page)

D
ane, Monroe, and Troy zipped to Narberth, Pennsylvania, where a high-paying, kinky couple waited for Troy to deliver his ashen-covered goods.

Troy sat in the backseat, fidgeting. Dane passed him a Dutch to calm his nerves.

Troy passed it to Monroe. “You up for this, man?” Monroe asked, pulling on the Dutch, his eyes glimmering with mocking amusement.

“I got it.” Troy straightened his shoulders.

“Yo, make sure you hit ’em up for a big tip. They didn’t tell me the wife was gon’ be in on it until a minute ago.”

“Aiight.” Troy bit his bottom lip nervously.

“Tell you what, yo. Since you so nervous and everything…”

“I’m cool,” Troy protested.

“Well, I think we should roll up in there and double-team that freaky couple. You let dude knock you off and I’ll pitch in and put wifey to bed.” Monroe rubbed his crotch. “With all this, shouldn’t take but a few minutes to make her cum.”

“Man, you ain’t going in there.” Dane shot Monroe a scorching look.

“Why not? I could use some extra cheese. Y’ah mean?”

“Man, chill. Troy got it.” Dane craned his neck. “You cool, man?”

“I’m aiight. I can do this.”

“You don’t sound convincing,” Dane spat. “Nigga talk a bunch of shit, but when it’s time to put out, he ends up with the jitters.”

“I ain’t got no jitters.”

“Well, bounce, nigga. Stop wasting time—get out the whip and go put some work in.”

Troy eased out of the back of the X5. Shoulders hunched, hands tucked in the pockets of his jeans, Troy plodded along the cobblestone path that led to a magnificent stone and stucco home.

“Damn,” Dane muttered, watching as Troy was admitted inside.

“What?”

“I hope that nigga remembered to keep his legs, knees and his dick ashy.”

Monroe’s jaw dropped.

“Shit, this would be a helluva time for that nigga to start using lotion.”

“Fill a nigga in. Whatchu talkin’ about, man?”

Dane gave Monroe a cocky smile. He slid his seat back, reached behind and retrieved the laptop that was perched on the back-seat. He handed it to Monroe. “Pop it open and crank it up. I’m gon’ let you peep some shit. Fill you in on how that little bitch was making all that cheddar.”

“You already told me. You said she be pimpin’ mufuckas.”

“That’s only part of it. The bitch be charging mufuckas to peep the sick-ass pictures she got posted up on her website. Man, Lil’ Bit ain’t no joke. She got flicks showing niggas’ dicks spurting out cum; she got big, burly niggas posing like bitches in aprons and shit. Freak mufuckas been paying her top dollar to peep that freak shit. She even got a bitch with the fattest pair of pussy lips you’ll ever see splattered across the screen.”

Thinking about the waitress at Hades, Monroe reared back, shocked.

The wallpaper—multiple images of Misty—appeared on the computer screen. Monroe handed it to Dane, who moved his seat back even further, giving himself more elbow room to navigate the website.

He clicked and scrolled and then pointed the screen in Monroe’s direction.

“Whose ashy dick is that?” Monroe wondered aloud.

“Ya boy, Troy. Lil’ Bit promotes him as Ashy Cashy; there’s been a big demand for his long, ashy dick.”

“Yo, man. That’s disgusting. How much paper he pullin’ in for this shit?”

“Why you wanna know?”

“Just curious. Y’all getting money; I want some, too. My dick is bigger and longer than his. I’d be rolling in dough if I was in on this.”

“Man, stop playing. How I look, pimping you out? Be patient; I told you, I gotchu.”

Monroe eyed Dane suspiciously. He patted his empty pockets for emphasis and then slouched in his seat, muttering discontentedly.

“Peep this cunt flick,” Dane exclaimed, changing the subject. “Yo, I guarantee, you ain’t nevah seen a pussy like this one.”

Monroe gazed at Felice’s crotch shot. “I been all up in that,” he said, unimpressed.

Dane’s heart stopped. “You got with Felice? When?”

“I told you about it. Me, her and Misty. We worked it, three-way—that night at Hades.”

Fire lit up Dane’s eyes. “You ain’t say nothing about no waitress.”

Monroe frowned. “Yo, nigga. Fall back. Why the fuck you care where my dick been? Yeah, I hit it. So what?”

“I’m just saying, how you gon’ keep that type of info to yourself?” Dane’s voice came out a little shaky, showing vulnerability, giving Monroe an edge.

Monroe leaned forward, a scowl on his smooth, hairless face. He tapped the computer screen. “Man, I super-soaked that ho!” He guffawed loudly, shoulders rocking, head lolling, Nikes stomping the floormat in time with the rhythm of his laughter.

A half-hour later, Troy bounced up to the whip, grinning. “Yo, that shit was dope.” He pulled a wad out of his pocket. “Check out the tip. Three bills, yo.”

“I get half,” Dane mumbled.

“I know,” Troy responded, looking back and forth from Dane to Monroe, noticing the tension in the air. No one bothered to respond to his questioning look. Monroe stared out the passenger window and had his hand stuck out, demanding his cut.

“Damn, man. Can’t you wait ’til I get some change?” Troy scowled at Dane’s outstretched hand.

“Don’t play with my money, youngin’. I got change.”

Troy handed over the three bills. Dane pulled off. “Your next client is in Roxborough, somewhere.” He sucked his teeth. “I hate driving in Roxborough—all those narrow-ass, two-way streets. Shit is crazy. Ain’t none of them streets wide enough to be two-way,” Dane ranted. “Plus, I get corny-ass Roxborough and Manayunk confused. I probably should use this GPS system to get us there in time.” Dane pushed a couple buttons. “Fuck, I don’t know how to work this.” He sighed. “Y’all know?”

“Nah, man. I ain’t with that GPS shit. So, um, what’s up with my change?”

“I gotchu—when we finish up, tonight.” Dane twisted his face in annoyance, picked up speed and whipped through the dignified motorists cruising along Narberth’s Montgomery Avenue.

“Yo, dawg. Don’t be breaking speed limits up around here,” Monroe cautioned. “These suburban cops be bored; they be looking for shit to pin on a nigga. I ain’t trying to spend the night in the joint, man.”

“Man, stop whining. Fuck these suburban cops. They living good up here in whitey world—shit, I’m trying to get mine.”

“I know that’s right,” Troy agreed. “But, yo. Why I gotta wait ’til the end of the night? I’m trying to get mine, too.” He gave a heavy sigh. “That’s what the fuck I get for trying to come at you, all honest and shit.”

In the middle of traffic, Dane slammed on the brakes. Monroe was hurled forward; his chest hit the dashboard. Motorists screeched to a halt, trying to prevent slamming into the SUV. Dane was oblivious to the chaos he’d created. With scrunchedup lips, he whipped his head around and cast an evil look at Troy in the backseat. “You thinking about holding back? You thinking about trying to cheat me?”

“Nah, man,” Troy sputtered, squirming under Dane’s hateful gaze. “I was just saying—”

Dane nodded at Monroe. “Yo, man. Monroe’s over here, trying to get off the bench—says he’s ready to jump in the game. If you not happy, just say the word.”

“I’m cool, man.”

“Aiight, then. Stop complaining; shut the fuck up.”

Wordlessly, Troy stretched out his legs and slumped against the back of the leather seat.

Monroe eyed Dane. “You driving this wheel like you crazy.”

Dane frowned. “So.”

“So? You’re using my license. That jawn is nice and fresh. I ain’t trying to get my shit suspended before I even get my first wheel.”

D
ane navigated his way to Roxborough. Troy was in and out in less than twenty minutes. “Yo, I need a break,” he complained as he slid in the back of the truck. “I’m hungry.” Troy winced and rubbed his stomach.

“How much you get?”

“Oh! Dag, I forgot.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out a fifty.

“You holding out, dawg?”

“Nah, man. It ain’t even like that. Dude said he paid online.”

Dane couldn’t dispute that. Troy didn’t even know about the internet situation. “So, why he come up all cheap? Was your shit ashy like I promised, dude?”

Monroe broke out laughing. “Y’all crazy. Talking about Troy’s crusty ass, like it’s something special.”

“My ass ain’t crusty.”

“So, what’s the deal? Shed some light. Why your jawn gotta be ashy in order for you to get with these tricks?”

“Man, shut the fuck up,” Dane snarled. “At least Troy’s making money. You riding shotgun, waiting to go shopping, trying to sponge off his tips.”

“Fuck you, man. In fact, take my ass back to West. I can be making moves on the block instead of riding around with you while Troy’s putting in work with these freaks.”

“I ain’t no freak,” Troy muttered from the back.

“Man, I ain’t talking about you.” Monroe sucked his teeth. “Yo, Dane. Take me back to West, man. I ain’t feelin’ all this disrespect and shit.”

Dane ignored Monroe. He pointed the SUV toward Center City, where Troy’s last client lived.

“I can’t keep busting nuts without no food or nothing. I gotta have something in my stomach, yo.”

“You a pain in the ass, Troy.” Dane pulled into the drive-thru lane of a nearby Burger King. He ordered and paid for burgers and fries, tossed the bags to Troy and Monroe and then floored it to the last job of the night.

After splitting tips, Troy and Dane were left with six hundred dollars apiece.

“Fifty-fifty ain’t gon’ get it, man. Starting tomorrow, I’m gon have to raise my cut to sixty percent. Ya feel me, dawg?” Dane slowed up and then stopped in front of Troy’s house on Farragut Street.

Troy heaved a sigh as he dragged his tired body out of the X5.

Zipping to the closest ATM, Dane inserted the new ATM card, which was issued in Monroe’s name. He withdrew the daily limit. Grinning, he dropped a pile of bills in Monroe’s lap. “Truce, man. There’s plenty more where that came from; I’ll get some more loot in the morning, when the bank opens,” he explained.

Monroe nodded and pocketed the money without bothering to count it.

“You still mad about Felice?”

Monroe frowned. “Hell no. Wasn’t no love between us. I hit it…” He shrugged. “That’s it. Why you trippin’ over that ho?”

“It ain’t about her,” Dane said, sneering. “It’s the pussy. That jawn is crazy and I can’t hang. That shit got me feeling like less than a man,” he admitted. “My shit starts squirting as soon as it touches those fat pussy lips.” He shook his head, his expression a mixture of confusion and agitation. “So, you handled your business and rode it out, huh?”

“Man, I was messin’ witchu. When she gripped those lips around my dick, I was like…fuck it…I pulled out and skeeted all over that fat pussy. As long as I got mine, what the fuck did I care about that ho? On the real, though, I think your girl, Misty, finished her off.”

“Fuck outta here!” Dane was genuinely surprised.

Monroe shrugged. “Man, fuck both of them bitches. I was twisted that night; I can’t half remember what went down. Why do you care?”

“Ego, I guess. I ain’t never encountered a pussy that I couldn’t whip,” Dane said, laughing. His laughter stopped as he gazed in thought.

“What’s up? Whatchu thinking about getting into?”

“Felice’s expecting me to drop by tonight. We gon’ roll up in that piece and surprise the bitch. I been fucking around on some bullshit, trying to handle that wild pussy by myself.” He reached under the driver’s seat and pulled out a plastic bag stuffed with neon green buds. “I’ma offer her some of this killa, get her in the mood for some freak shit.”

“Damn, man. You was holding out?” Monroe shot a glance at the green buds.

“You think I was gon’ share my high-quality weed with Troy’s dumb ass?”

“I can dig it.”

Dane passed the bag of weed to Monroe. “The Dutch is in the glovebox. Roll it up.” He clicked buttons, turning off Kanye West and switching to Ne-Yo. “Felice thinks she’s all that, but Misty…” He shook his head. “Man, that lil’ mufucka’s a trip. Bitch got blown-up pictures of herself plastered on every wall in the crib. For real, yo. That bitch is crazy. She even got pictures of her stank ass and little-ass titties posted up in the bathroom.”

Listening quietly, smiling and shaking his head, Monroe split and emptied out the contents of a Dutch. He let the tobacco fly out the passenger window, then worked on rolling up a fat stogie with precision and fine craftsmanship. “So, what’s the deal? You wanna double-team her?”

“Whatever it takes.”

“How’s that gon’ play with Shawty? She gon’ be aiight with that?”

“Is she gon’ have a choice?” Dane asked, his expression deadly. “Pullin’ Trains.com—that’s gon’ be the name of my new website,” he bragged. “I’ma put you, Edison, and Troy on that shit. I might join in, too, every now and then.”

“Pullin’ Trains.com?”

“Yeah, nigga. Bitches be having all kinds of smut fantasies. And I know how to fulfill their needs. I’m gon’ have y’all wearing masks, or have bandanas tied around your faces. Trick-bitches gon’ pay a chunk for a rape fantasy. To get a train pulled—whew!” Dane shook his head. “Man, that’s gon’ cost them bitches a grip.”

“Yo, that’s gangsta.” Monroe gave Dane his props. Dane took a hand off the steering wheel, offered it. Monroe slapped Dane’s open palm in admiration and approval of his get-money skills.

A powerful urge to urinate sent Misty to the bathroom. Her bladder felt painfully full. Sitting on the toilet, she smiled, closed her eyes and released.
Ah!
The moment the wet sheets connected with her skin, she sprang awake. “Oh, shit,” she muttered and attempted to jump up, put distance between herself and the piss-stained sheets. Woozy, she fell back and lay in the soaking urine. “Brick!” she whimpered. “Brick, the bed is wet,” she called out in a louder voice; garbled speech. “Come and change these wet fuckin’ sheets,” she muttered in agitation. In a stupor, her mind too fuzzy to remember that she’d fired Brick in favor of Dane. In her current groggy state, she forgot Dane existed. All she remembered was Brick, her lifelong and faithful servant. She lifted her head, impatiently waiting to hear his heavy footsteps, rushing to rectify the awful situation.

“Damn, Brick. What’s taking you so long?” She twisted away from the drenched area, scooting over to a drier spot on the bed. “Brick! Hurry up,” she murmured before falling back into a deep, drugged sleep, having no memory that she’d evicted Brick; that he was at her mother’s house and was at that very moment, contentedly banging Thomasina, giving her all the love he had stored up in his heart—filling her deeply with his enormous pleasure-giver.

Misty had no clue that Brick’s sheet-changing, cum-licking, eating-pussy-on-demand, selling-dick days were officially over.