End of the Line (2 page)

“Bitch.” His one-word reply could be heard clear down at the other end of the block.

Standing in front of the mirror, she applied makeup on her slightly red face. Jessica couldn’t help but laugh once more before she set the record straight. “Look, crazy, I don’t know what in the hell you want me to say. You ain’t just meet me, playboy. I dance, and I sells this kitty cat. That’s who I am and what I do. Now, what part of that don’t you understand?”

It was nearing one in the morning. Mike Mike had been sitting on the couch in close to the exact same position for hours. Not having turned back on his X-Box or the music, he sat stunned. Still in a state of shock over what his girl and best friend’s brother had done, the high he’d been on before Jessica came home dropping the bombshell confession had long since worn off. Left in a completely sober mind-set, Mike Mike was lost in his thoughts about the woman he’d loved since she’d moved on the block. Not to mention the betrayal by Buzzy, whose brother Derek and he had been through hell and back. Feeling as if he could actually hear his own heart breaking into a million pieces, part of him wanted to die. Out of desperation wanting to at least hear her voice, he reached for his cell placing a call to Jessica. After allowing it to ring three times, he quickly hung up before the voice mail clicked on. Trying to call a few more times, Mike Mike did the same thing; ended the call prior to hearing the long drawn-out greeting. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to leave a message for the female that had caused him to cry, because he did. It was the sad fact, as Jessica had so cruelly pointed out, that he had a government phone; a government phone that was extremely low on minutes. Having exhausted the majority of the 250 allotted minutes trying to call his girl the evening before, Mike Mike was being cautious as well as smart. From past experiences, he’d learned what kind of diarrhea of the mouth he’d have to endure from Jessica if she happened to call late at night after her shift and not be able to get in touch with him. In her eyes, it was one thing if she didn’t pick up when he called her. Yet, let the shoe be on the other foot, it would be utter hell for Mike Mike to pay.

Finally getting himself somewhat emotionally together, he stood to his feet. Taking stock of the way the interior of the house looked thanks to his tirade, he decided to keep himself busy. Flipping the coffee table right side up, the shattered-soul youth fought not to shed any further tears. Having gotten a few plastic grocery bags from underneath the kitchen sink, he collected trash, empty bottles, and other items off the living-room floor. Moving in silence, Mike Mike thought of different ways to seek revenge, especially on his girl. Nonetheless, they all ended up with him being without the one thing he desired the most: Jessica.

As he cleaned praying for his beloved to call him, the unthinkable occurred. It was a knock at the door. Snatching his cell phone off the dining-room table, Mike Mike saw it was now close to two o’clock. Shaking his head in disbelief, he knew it couldn’t be who he thought it was. Since Jessica had been dancing, Derek had been falling through late night to play the game, smoke weed, and talk shit. However, Mike Mike knew good and well his best friend did not have the nerve to show up at his front door—not tonight—not after knowing his brother had been banging his woman the night before. He felt his blood boiling, staring at the locked door. He was outraged. How could he not feel that way? Out of all the different women in the city he could have picked to get some ass from, Buzzy had picked Jessica, and Derek knew about it. Whether his woman was a willing participant or not, the unforgivable deed was still unscrupulous in Mike Mike’s book. To say that Derek’s older brother crossed the line would be an understatement.

Now it was time for Mike Mike to let his true feelings be known. He was devastated and ready to be heard. Taking the janky .38 revolver out from underneath the cushion of the love seat, hurt soul, he vindictively headed toward the door. Each step he took was packed with a heavy foot of resentment. Easing over to the window, the beige-colored blinds were moved slightly over to the side to get a better view. It was him.
This fake-ass backstabber got the nerve to really show the hell up like he ain’t cross me.
Not hard to spot, he saw the tail end of Derek’s car parked in the driveway.

With haste, Mike Mike swung the front door of the small wooden frame bungalow wide open. The pungent smell of the disinfectant products he’d been cleaning with rushed out the door into the night air. With both feet planted firmly in the threshold of the dwelling, Jessica’s man disappointedly leered at his ex-best friend. Shaking as he spoke, his words were deliberate and full of malice.

“Are you serious, dude, or what? I mean, what the fuck you doing over here at my crib? I can’t believe your rotten-snake ass!”

Derek was high as two kites. He’d been on a drinking and smoking binge all evening; however, he easily recognized the heat in his homeboy’s tone. Being born and raised in the hood, it wasn’t hard to miss the ghetto fever Mike Mike was throwing in his direction. After taking in account his friend’s verbal shade, Derek looked downward. Squinting his weed-weary eyes, he momentarily froze. Not sure of what he was seeing, the inebriated visitor rubbed his bloodshot pupils to ensure he was not dreaming.

“Yo, Mike Mike, my nigga. What’s the deal with you? Are you high? Are you gone off some of them pills we had the other day? I mean, you bugging. Why you got that thang out?”

Taking a few steps backward, Mike Mike lived in the celebration of revenge. The element of surprise was definitely on his side. With his chest stuck out, he vindictively raised his right arm. Unlike Derek, he was far from being under the influence of any substance, liquid, pill, or otherwise. What Mike Mike was feeling was raw, uncut, unfiltered human emotion; none other than betrayal in its worst form. He’d been violated, so man code universal wide dictated he returned the disrespectful favor. With deliberate aim, Mike Mike pointed the hairline trigger firearm directly at Derek’s face.

Instantly, Derek’s confused expression switched to terror as he tried to prevent the surprise confrontation from escalating any further. “Yo, Mike Mike, for real, though . . . Why you pointing that thang at me? What’s the deal? What, you and Jessica got into it again? What’s the deal?”

“Don’t say her fucking name, my nigga; don’t. I’m dead ass right now.” Deep off into his feelings, Mike Mike set Derek on fire with his eyes, meaning exactly what he’d just demanded.

“Huh?” Derek flinched up, still trying to slow his friend down from pulling the trigger.

“Yeah, come on, dawg, don’t come around here playing the role. This ain’t what you want right about now. I swear it ain’t.”

“Mike Mike—”

“You think I’m bullshitting or something? You already know what it is. You know what time it is. That was some real slimeball bullshit you cosigned on.”

“Mike Mike, hold up, boy,” he pleaded, wanting mercy.

“Naw, slick, I swear on my dead peoples, I thought we was better than that! We been through hell and back since day one, and you gonna go out like that? Damn, dude, you got me all the way twisted; then coming around here knocking on the door like we still a hundred with it!”

It rapidly became apparent there was no calming the escalating situation down. Realizing it was a mere seconds away from things popping all the way off, instinctively, Derek lifted his forearm in some magical attempt to shield the impromptu bullet play attack from occurring. He knew he had to think fast if he didn’t want to feel the burn of a bullet and risk prematurely meeting his Maker. With huge beads of perspiration dropping from his brow, Derek knew he had to make his move before Mike Mike got even more amped up and went for his own. Working with limited space on the porch and few options, the time was now.

Getting out of Dodge, Derek shook off his fear as he dove head-first clean over to the other side of the porch. Roughly scraping the side of his face against the weather-beaten concrete windowsill, he sought refuge behind an old lawn chair, praying Mike Mike wouldn’t let loose. As blood started to leak down from his injured cheek, he once again tried to get some understanding. “Dude, what in the fuck is wrong with you? You straight bugging pointing that shit at me! You know that throwback joint ain’t right. Damn, fam, chill!”

Furious, Mike Mike stepped all the way out of the doorway and onto the porch. Gun still drawn, he was in street-soldier stance ready to do battle. “Naw, Derek, I ain’t bugging; not at all. And it ain’t no more of that fam bullshit jumping off; at least, not from me. That’s dead!”

Derek knew he was on the verge of getting his ass handed to him; that much was obvious. With his best friend holding a gun and nowhere to go, his heart raced and his lips turned dry. Of course, he’d blown any amount of high he’d had still circulating throughout his system since originally knocking on Mike Mike and Jessica’s door. Rambling, Derek nervously continued trying to talk his way out of whatever was troubling Mike Mike. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to be working in his favor. His longtime road dawg was livid. In reality, Derek knew that Buzzy had given Jessica some dick the night before, but he honestly believed her actually dry snitching them out to his manz was out of the question. As he perched defensively behind the chair, he couldn’t fathom his boy’s wifey would be so ballsy, reckless, and out cold to do that dumb shit. The odds of that seemed zero to none, so he was lost where this sudden rage from Mike Mike was coming from.

“Dawg, what is you doing? What is you saying? I’m outta the game with what’s the deal with you and all this!”

“Shut the fuck up, Derek. That con game you be running out here on these hoes ain’t about to work on me. I ain’t one of your little bitches or Jessica’s good dick-sucking ass!”

“Whoa, guy! Slow your damn roll. What the fuck is you talking about? What you trying to say?” he continued, attempting to put a cap on the growing resentment Mike Mike was displaying toward him.

More than agitated with the innocent act his boy was putting on, he walked closer to Derek, gun still aimed. “Look, dude, stop trying to play me for some lame. The way I see it, you got a few of these slugs coming, if not all these bad boys. Nigga, I owe you that much, don’t you think?” Bombarding his once best friend with questions, Mike Mike revealed what he knew to be true before waiting for a response. “Come on now, guy. Stop playing dumb. How was that pussy? Was it good? Did she suck your brother’s dick or what? You can tell me! Did he bust in my woman’s mouth? Did she slow swallow his damn nut? Huh? Did she? I mean, I know how Jessica gets down, so I can already imagine she blessed his sneaky ass real proper!”

At that precise moment in time there was no denying the truth. There were no further confusing thoughts about what was going down on that porch in the wee hours of the morning. Derek now knew, fact for certain, Mike Mike had discovered Buzzy had sex with old girl. He didn’t know how he knew, but with a janky trigger pistol waving in his face, playing Twenty Questions was not at the top of his list; living to see daylight, however, was.
Damn, this crazy fool knows my brother hit Jessica’s hot ass off last night. How in the entire fuck did he find that shit out? I know she ain’t said nothing. Fuck, damn, shit! Maybe somebody saw us. But who in the hell? Damn! Fuck, this nigga all up in his feelings and shit. Waving that damn gun around like he done lost it.

Derek’s mind was racing a mile a minute. Peeking out from behind the lawn chair, he saw his homeboy’s face. It had murder plastered all across it. At this point, there was no way Derek felt he could explain what’d taken place. What could he say other than the fact that his brother knocked Jessica off because she always looked like she had some good pussy. Or they was drinking and Buzzy said he felt like getting his dick sucked. Maybe he could confess the truth to his best friend that they’d stopped by the strip club Jessica danced at and she cut off into Buzzy first. That she negotiated a price lower than he was willing to pay because she was just as hungry to taste his nut as he was willing to let loose in her mouth.

Whatever he did or said from this point on, Derek knew his life was on the line. Not in denial, he knew how much his best friend loved Jessica. Despite her tramplike ways and sexual treachery antics, Mike Mike felt she was some sort of low-income princess that could do no wrong. He had to make this good. “Okay, nigga. I ain’t gonna lie. Me and her was smoking some weed; some of that Kush from around the way. Her and my brother was both buzzed and some dumb shit jumped off. I know it was messed up. The minute they left—”

“And
what,
motherfucker?” Mike Mike sinisterly leered wanting to fire a few rounds off into his boy’s head now more than ever. “What you about to tell me about my damn girl? I’m begging you, please tell me!”

Before Derek could get a chance to respond and plead his case, he got an abrupt reprieve. Like a gift bestowed from God, an old-school Malibu with rims roared down the dark block. Distracted by the thunderous sound of rap music blasting from the speakers, Mike Mike briefly looked away from his otherwise intended target. Seizing the moment, Derek leaped over the rusty railing. No sooner than both feet touched the pavement he took off. Darting down the driveway toward the backyard, Derek prayed Mike Mike wouldn’t shoot. Making it safely behind a dilapidated garage, he exhaled. He was pissed off that he was suffering the backlash of his brother, not even him getting some pussy from Jessica. As he tried to figure a way to get his car out of the driveway without Mike Mike making good on his promise to shoot him, Derek knew this night was going to have life-lasting consequences.

“No doubt, you been doing your thing tonight, J-Rite. The crowd is loving your little ass. In between me and you, we making all the money in this motherfucker. Of course, them bitches was hating hard every time you went back in VIP, but what else is new?”

“Right, girl, who you telling? If these local birds spent as much time hustling these dudes, they could get they own revenue count up. They need to stay outta me and your business, and, of course, Raven’s, when she here. One day, they gonna learn we three here to make money not fucking friends,” she loudly announced in the semiempty dressing room, hoping a dancer would be brazen enough to try her. “Either hoes step they game up or step off. I’ma stunt any way it go. I got bills to pay and tricks to lay.”

Out of all the dancers, waitresses, and other staff working at Bare Faxx, Wild Child and her old schoolmate Raven were J-Rite’s only friends in the club. When it came down to it, she could halfway count on both of them if some shit popped off. Like hood birds of a feather, the money hungry three started at the less-than-upscale strip club a few months back. Renegades from a rival spot that’d mysteriously burned to the ground, they were despised. Each of the club’s regular dancers would be heated when the “greedy do anything for an extra dollar” trio would invade their territory. A thousand times worse than other females gracing the stage, J-Rite and Wild Child had no limits to what they’d say or do in the chase to get that extra bump. Countless times, the housemother stepped to them both about numerous complaints from colleagues. J-Rite could care less. The more illicit she behaved, the more money cash on the floor. If the others couldn’t afford to pay their tip out fee after swinging from a pole all night, that was their problem, definitely not hers. Labeled “easily fuckable” by the customers as well as their coworkers, she was amused. Raven had small children at home to tend to most nights so she could not be at the club 24/7 like Wild Child and J-Rite. However, if there was money rumored to be in the house or some scheme to come up on the floor, she was ready to leave her seeds with their grandmother and be a part of the movement.

“Let’s bring to center stage that little bit of hell for your ass. That caramel-colored candy that dissolves in your mouth. That H-I-J for your asses—J-Rite live and in 3D living color,” DJ What Up Doe hyped the crowd up more than usual.

Not new to the art of seduction, J-Rite was good at what she did. Not just good; some would say an expert at times. And that made others often mad. True to the streets, she understood a long time back no one could get something for nothing. And you always get what you pay for. While it was not just customary but mandatory to tip the disc jockey, she went beyond the call of duty. J-Rite wasn’t a dummy by far. Fully aware of the vast amount of shade being thrown at all times in her direction, it made her go harder. If girls could spread rumors and lies about her throughout the duration of her shift, their missions would be dead-on. One, maybe two, customers a night might believe the hype and choose to spend their money on the next female. Ensuring she had the best music on her playlist, and he’d go all out coaxing the cash to stay flowing, J-Rite not only paid the DJ up front, she’d double his tip—sometimes tripled it.

As the first bars of her two-song set began to play, J-Rite made her way through the multitudes of hands trying to get free feels. Dressed in a metallic gold baby tee barely covering half her tits, she adjusted the matching G-string. She could feel the admiration from the men fill the air. The women, however, dancers and just bitches there to hang out alike, were visibly annoyed.

After using her personal rag dampened with alcohol to wipe down the brass pole, she was ready. Armed with her best moves, J-Rite’s hips gyrated in a slow, circular motion. Swinging around the pole, she opened her legs wide, allowing potential pervert row gawkers to get a full look at what she was working with. Seeing various denominations of currency being thrown into the air and up onto the stage only motivated her grind even more. With Wild Child standing guard to ensure no random thirsty dancers or bum-ass busters had any wise ideas about swooping up some cash on the sly, J-Rite made her way to the top of the pole. Wrapping her strong inner thighs and lower legs tightly in place, her fingers unlocked from their grip. As she allowed her upper torso to drop backward, the rowdy crowd erupted. Embracing the flashing lights and cheers, the fun-size beauty cupped her bare breasts. Seductively licking her cherry-glossed lips, she then opened her arms so everyone could see her perfect body in all its glory.

Caught up in all the excitement that came along with her sultry performance, Jessica failed to see a set of eyes focused on more than her seminude body. After the second song came to an end, the over-the-top adult performer scrambled around the floor gathering up her tips and the top to her costume. Exiting the stage, J-Rite was immediately met with an onset of admirers wanting special attention and exclusive private dances. Focused on her money, she quickly looked over each person head to toe determining who she thought had the potential to spend the most loot. To J-Rite, cash was king; always was, always would be.

Taking the first winner of the one-song set by the wrist, she started to lead him toward the rear of the strip club where the VIP room was located. Not more than four maybe five yards away, she was stopped dead in her tracks by a guy she was more than familiar with.

“Hey, baby. Dang, two nights in a row? What do I owe this pleasure to?”

“Yeah, girl, what time you breaking out tonight? You staying ’til this thing shut the doors or what?”

“Why? What’s good? What you got going on?” J-Rite fired question after question off at Buzzy as her perverted customer took the opportunity to gawk at the jiggling ass he was seconds away from having perched on his lap.

“I got something I wanna give you. Something that’s gonna change your life forever,” he announced with a crooked grin on his face.

J-Rite’s curiosity was piqued. “Change my life? Nigga, what your ass up in this motherfucker talking about? Is you high?”

“Naw, girl, I’m trying to put you on to some real gang-stalike game. Now you down or what?” Buzzy held a glass of top-shelf 1738 in one hand and a small wad of cash in the other. Giving Mike Mike’s woman the same look he’d given her last night when she blessed him in the backseat of his truck, Jessica realized he was serious.

* * *

Leaving from the back door of the club, she had a smile plastered on her face. Oversized dance bag in tow, J-Rite’s shift was over. Blessed with having what most would consider a good night, the show didn’t stop for Mike Mike’s girl. It was a little past 3:00 a.m., and while her dude was at home, probably high, half drunk, and playing video games and still licking his wounds from the blow to his manhood he took earlier, she had her one ready to go. Having no problem with putting in overtime, she was on the chase. Lured with the promise of what she thought was going to be a few more dollars on top of her normal “pay to play” charge outside of Bare Faxx, Jessica’s eyes eagerly searched the parking lot. She’d allowed Wild Child to take her vehicle so she hoped this hustle worked out in her favor. Relived, she saw Buzzy flash the high beam headlights from his truck.

The reckless-behavior dancer handed the only security guard that would even speak to her a hot twenty as his tip and took a deep breath. Somewhat tipsy, J-Rite rolled her black bag behind her right side while running her fingers through her hair. Reaching the triple-black SUV, she seductively leaned in the window so Buzzy could get an eyeful of what he was minutes away from paying good money for yet another night.

“Hey, baby, I see you waited for me.”

“Yeah, for sure,” he replied, turning his radio all the way down so she could hear. “I told you I would. I told you I was gonna change your life tonight, so climb in and let’s roll out.”

“Yeah, well, we both know what a dude say in the club and out is two different things, especially when the cold night air hits his ass and sobers him up.” The sassy tone she was giving Buzzy made him know he’d made the correct choice for what he had in store.

“It ain’t no thang, J-Rite. I’m here. I got you. Now, you ain’t on no damn curfew with youngblood, is you?”

Jessica laughed, placing her bag in the rear seat where she’d fucked him the night before, then got in the front. “Come on now, Buzzy, it’s been a long day. Now stop playing with a tired bitch like me and change my damn life, nigga. I’m waiting!”

* * *

Under the assumption they were headed to some hotel on the other side of town to get it all the way in, Jessica leaned back in the plush leather passenger seat getting comfortable. Deciding to not participate much in the small-talk conversation Buzzy was attempting to have with her, she felt her eyelids getting heavy. Fighting sleep was more than a notion as she briefly drifted off.

Finally arriving at what she thought was going to be the room, the eager-to-fuck-to-get-paid J-Rite was thrown off, awakening to the notoriously known East Side street, Bewick. Not wanting to ask questions or appear too nosy, she let Buzzy take the lead, no questions asked. Knowing Derek’s older brother was about that life, the also street-raised female got out of the truck at the same time as Buzzy did. A true West Sider to heart, J-Rite wasn’t all the way familiar with this part of town. However, she knew any areas located within the city limits of Detroit were not safe to be in, let alone a sitting duck in an expensive SUV. So staying put was not an option.

As she and Buzzy walked up on the porch of the surprisingly well kept duplex, she immediately took notice of the gun he had down at his side. Not having to knock, the door swung open. On the other side of the black steel gated threshold stood not one, but two stocky-built females also brandishing firearms. Still confused about what was about to take place, the brave stripper never flinched and never muttered a word. If she wasn’t down for whatever was going to happen after whatever came next, she was putting on a hellava front. Moments later, Buzzy made the formal introductions using street names; never government.

“Hey, you two, this is my around-the-way homegirl, J-Rite. I’m thinking about putting her on our team. Letting her get a little bit of the black American Dream we trying to live.”

One of the women strong stared Jessica up and down from the top of her head full of weave to the bottom sole of her sneakers. Having no problem whatsoever voicing her opinion, she spoke out. “Well, damn, Buzzy, I ain’t trying to be funny or second-guess you, but it don’t look like she ready for anything but the stage.”

“Yeah, man, it’s almost four in the morning, and she got on a damn full face of makeup! Where in the entire hell do they do that at?” The other one laughed, giving her partner in crime some dap.

“I’m with her; this chick ain’t ready for shit but to catch a couple of flying dollar tips. I mean, she is fine as a motherfucker, but on our team? Naw, Buzzy.”

Up until now, J-Rite had been as quiet as a mouse. Fighting the urge to put both women in their place, she casually looked around the foreign domain in hopes of possibly finding a makeshift weapon to use, if need be. As each handed Buzzy rubber banded rolls of money for him to count, they kept ridiculing Jessica’s gangster, failing to see what their boy saw in her they were missing.

I swear on everything I love these big-footed hoes is pushing they luck with me. Fuck, I wish Wild Child or Raven was here. We’d manhandle both these bury bears like it ain’t jack shit, just like we do at the club. That’s what be wrong with these Detroit females with no home training; they think they untouchable. But all it takes is one ruthless and rotten bitch like me to show them life ain’t all sweet! I swear, Buzzy got me fucked up over here on this bullshit. Change my life, my pretty ass! He crazy!
Seeing how she was at a total disadvantage far on the other side of town, in some random-ass house, getting the once-over by two dykelike bitches waiting for a reason to pounce, Jessica decided it was best to keep her mouth shut and let that disrespectful scene play itself out.

“I see y’all had a great couple of days around here. Shit’s really picking up. We should be where we need to be by week’s end,” Buzzy bragged with his chest stuck out, having ignored all the unwarranted insults and daggers they were throwing at J-Rite.

The female that opened the front door arrogantly smirked, showing the brown-stained bucked tooth that was gapped in her dental. “Yeah, we doing this thing ourself. We don’t need no wannabe dressed-up-in-the-face Barbie doll to get on the team. We got this. So you can just take her prissy ass back to that pole she was probably swinging from.”

After enduring more than twenty minutes of being spoken about like she was not present, Jessica could no longer hold her well-known fiery tongue. Not caring about being outnumbered by the less-than-feminine goons, she was done. Her gutsy disposition was bursting to get out, and it did. “You know what? A bitch like me is straight tired of you two nothing-ass rats trying to talk down on my ass. Yeah, I know I’m damn near perfect in all y’all’s eyes. Hell, yeah, I’m a pretty motherfucker, but so damn what? That don’t mean I can’t split both of y’all shit clean down to the white meat!” Jessica had once again transformed into J-Rite and was in full effect. “Since I came through the damn door, y’all acting like I asked to come over to this raggedy-ass piece of shit house! Buzzy brought me over here,” she shot him the serious side eye while still staying focused on the two bitter haters.

“Now, I don’t know what in the hell y’all got going on over in this place besides the obvious; y’all slanging, but here’s a newsflash for all three of y’all. J-Rite don’t give a fuck! Matter of fact, Buzzy, can you just take me to the crib or do I need to call my girl to come get me? I can wait somewhere up on the corner! It ain’t no thang to me one way or another. I ain’t got time for none of this petty circus y’all got stirring!”