Brooklyn Brothel (20 page)

“Damn, that’s good.”

I took my tongue and licked the rim of the glass tryna absorb the taste. Without a doubt, I was the new shit in town. Brooklyn wasn’t ready for a transformed bitch like me, I boasted to myself. I took my time as I did every mornin’ singin’ my own praises in front of the huge framed mirror in my office slash bedroom. I’d gone against what Tony had suggested and decided to make the entire right side of the first floor my bedroom, which was attached to my office. It was spacious, had a unique lookin’ fireplace, and could be closed off with the beautiful set of French doors for privacy when someone needed to enter the office area. Without a doubt, it was the best lookin’ room in the house. Not to mention, the fabulous bay window that brought style to the office area. And gave me a front row seat to all the action on the block.

As I placed my wine glass back down on my dressin’ table, I smiled at my new best friend-Chardonnay. With a sexy pucker, I kissed at the mirror remindin’ myself that I did indeed look good and needed to be perfect when I stepped from my private quarters. No, the new house wasn’t as spacious as Betty’s, but it had its advantages. For starters, the entire first level was all about me; my bedroom, along with the office and the kitchen. So I didn’t have to smell any stale pussy, or funky sweat invadin’ my nostrils. Secondly, because I didn’t have any help like a Serita, or black suits, I needed
the spot to be quaint, and controllable.

I’d finished oilin’ myself down in the sweet scented Victoria Secret lotion, complements of Tony, and moved onto the finale-my accessories. I slid my black, lace gloves up to my elbows which matched perfectly with my lace shirt that was really just a thin piece of lingerie. The fitted piece, which was intended to be a shirt, exposed my nipples through the lace just as planned. You see a Madam must represent.

Tony had hooked me up with dozens of new outfits fit for a Madam, mostly high-dollar stuff. So it came as no surprise to me how all of a sudden I wanted the best of everythin’. The word
best
made me lean closer into the mirror to check my new lace front wig. It was honey-colored mixed with a reddish tone, and swooped back off my forehead cascadin’ down my back. Clearly-it was the best money could buy. For a moment, I got choked up. My reflection reminded me of Betty. Not that we resembled one another physically but that I’d taken on her daily make-up regiment. Instead of pickin’ up the brush to touch up my blush one last time, I reached for my glass and opted for another sip of Chardonnay.

I sipped, then puckered my lips makin’ sure the deep reddish lip glaze was still noticeable. My sex appeal was at a level that not even I understood. I’d changed, almost overnight. No longer self-conscious, no longer unsure about what I was capable of. My new attitude matched my new financial come-up. Sweet was what I called it.

I remember Tony telling me the day I moved in to trust him. He said, “Always look good and always smell good. Target the best hoe’s in town and run a tight ship. Take those two statements, keep them close to heart, and we’ll make plenty of money.” He really had me strung out when he told me there were many girls he could’ve asked to run the spot, but it was me who he knew would make it happen.

Every day I tried to hang onto Tony’s upliftin’ words. It was all that could be done, ’cause he certainly didn’t allow me to hang onto him. Tony’s brothel had been officially open for a week, but he’d only come by twice. He said he knew business was boomin’ and that I had everythin’ under control. The first day we opened, Tony had a slew of his workers and their friends swingin’ by our spot. Crazy thing was, Tony had more black friends than I expected. They knew how to market like crazy. They’d even reached out to some dudes who sold major coke down in Harlem. Supposedly they were comin’ through later, so my ladies needed to be up on it.

I picked up the phone to try Mike one more time before my mornin’ Hoe-meetin’ began. It was crazy how he’d been ignorin’ my calls for the past three weeks. It seemed like the moment I told him that I was down with Tony he spaced out, didn’t wanna come around the new spot, didn’t wanna meet me out anywhere, and wouldn’t even accept my phone calls anymore. Mike didn’t believe me when I explained that this situation was short term for me. He claimed that Tony was into a lot of crooked shit, more serious than we both could imagine. And even though Tony said I could bring Carlton back to Brooklyn, and that he’d find us another place to stay, Mike wasn’t buying it.

Of course I got his answerin’ service on the first ring. “Hey Mike, it’s me, Co-Co. Give me a call on my office phone 917-555-0766.” I paused. “And Mike…I really need to see you.”

I hung up the receiver, took a lengthy, deep breath, and strutted down the long hallway to the great room. As I sashayed from side to side, my satin, long black skirt spread widely apart, exposin’ the explicit split straight down the middle. Funny how Cinnamon had commented on how I now seemed to walk with way more confidence than needed. I often wondered what the otha girls workin’ for me really
thought about me. But then again, who cared. I felt like muthufuckin’ royalty, a feelin’ I’d neva experienced before.

Moments later, I burst through the double-doors lookin’ around to make sure every girl was up on their feet to greet me. That was one of my many rules.

“Bitches at ease,” I announced in the firmest tone my voice could give off.

Even though it was already my fifth day repeatin’ the same thing when I walked into my mornin’ meetin’, it still seemed odd deep down. My reputation as a strict, no-nonsense Madam was non-negotiable. It wasn’t how I wanted to get down, but how I had been instructed to behave. One, I had to earn my respect or get disrespected in the process. And two, Tony ordered it. Although I had a set of rules for my ladies at the new brothel, Tony had a set of rules for me, too.

I looked ova at my crew, Fruity, Danielle, Delicious, Cinnamon, and Kitty, all standin’ straight forward like soldiers. It was a small crew, but all I could handle considerin’ the size of the house. Three thousand square feet wasn’t as large as Betty’s but at least we didn’t have her huge problems either.

The only major problem we had since openin’ was taken care of with the quickness and almost turned deadly. Day two, a chick named Cache showed up unannounced talkin’ ’bout one of Tony’s boy’s told her to come by to see me ’bout workin’. I was a lil’ leery about the girls we hired; most were hand-picked by Tony, and had contacts with someone he knew who could vouch for them. From where I sat, no one could be trusted, but I decided to give her a chance. Her first night on the job the bitch started lying ’bout how much money she made. Unlike Betty, I ask all the patrons to sign a sheet on their way out with the amount they paid each girl. I ran a tight fuckin’ ship, and was determined not to let anybody get ova. I guess Cache thought she’d played me for a
fool, but she got played instead.

Gino happened to be leavin’ after seeing the last contractor to his car. He heard me goin’ off on Cache and intercepted the beef. Cache ended up gettin’ a beat-down by Gino right in front of everybody. Blood gushed from her face while bein’ struck like a nigga in the street. He kicked her ass near my office and all the way outside to the front lawn, while she screamed, beggin’ him to stop. It scared the hell outta me, but I dared not show it. Watchin’ Gino’s three hundred pound body assault a woman caused pain to fill my eyes as I was reminded of Bo. So many times, I had to remind myself that he was behind me. I was a madam now, someone of substance.

Snappin’ from my thoughts, my feet moved slowly, marchin’ up and down the short line. Each girl had to be examined for hair, outfits, and make-up. While I inspected my line, I ran down my check-list recitin’ last night’s revenue, expected sales for the night, and issues that needed to be taken care of. I was on the second portion of my agenda when an annoyin’ voice sounded.

“I gotta pee.”

My pupils rolled toward the back of my eyelids. Stupidity
seemed to make me ill. “What?” I shouted and moved swiftly in the direction of the voice. Delicious stood about five-feet-two with big brown eyes and oversized tits to match. Her body was well-developed, but her voice needed to catch up. It was light, squeaky, and damn near childish.

“Look a here, stop talkin’ like you should be at home playin’ with a Bratz doll instead of strokin’ a dick. Time is money. My money! So come again!” I held my hand up to my ear lettin’ her know I wanted her to speak…and fast.

She stuttered. “I got-t-t-ta pee,” she repeated.

“No. Nada!” I shouted, then moved down to Kitty who thought the shit was funny.

She was an eighteen-year-old, wide-eyed chick who seemed to be all giddy but hadn’t made hardly any money. I felt like the quota I’d imposed wasn’t too much to ask. As I moved closer, I wondered if her pussy stank. She had a pair of low rider jeans on that looked extra good on her small frame. She was cute and as usual wore a top to accentuate and show off her trim waistline. So for me, I couldn’t think of any otha reason that she wasn’t pullin’ in the niggas. She snagged a paid black dude her first day on the job who came in the door sayin’ he had a ‘g’ to spend. He’d somehow chosen Kitty, and left thirty minutes later with the majority of his money still in his pocket.

I leaned into her face. “Kitty, you either make me $500.00 dollars today, or your ass is outta here! Understood. Capiche?” I loved using Tony’s famous word.

“Got it,” she said.

“No… I said Capiche…Capiche?” I made sure my voice was extra deep.

“Capiche,” Kitty finally said.

I moved on to my next topic, the laundry. “Make sure if it’s your night to do the towels, do them. We don’t want no soiled funky towels in this spot, and of course if we get low on baby wipes, let me or Cinnamon know.”

I glanced down at Cinnamon who looked away from my stare. She knew she was my girl for life. Although we’d met a short time ago at Betty’s, we’d gotten real tight ova the last three weeks. She was startin’ to get to know the real me-my thoughts-my wants- my dreams. I had been lacin’ her pockets every night with a lil’ extra cash from Tony’s cut. All she had to do was help me run the place doing odds and ends, and to keep her eyes out for any shady shit goin’ down with the girls. Of course, I wasn’t gonna put my trust in those bitches.

Who knows- her co-workers were probably jealous of her, too. I made sure Cinnamon’s clothes were sexy yet
classy, just a step under mine. Her perky attitude hadn’t changed so she always behaved like she didn’t have a care in the world. Suddenly, I could tell they were gettin’ restless. Besides, the doors would be opened shortly. I ended with, “That’s it. Just remember, fuck hard, give good service and make that money!”

Damn, I shoulda been a motivational speaker
, I joked to myself.

The girls all nodded in agreement and dispersed to either the oversized couch, or the bar that I’d put the final touches on just yesterday. Cinnamon waltzed ova to me and shot me an undercover smile. I winked, turned my head and headed back to my office to go ova the previous night’s take. Before I could even get out of the room, Kitty rushed behind me actin’ like what she had to say was extra important.

I stopped abruptly, then turned my nose up. “What?”

“I need to talk to you about something.”

“Is it work related?”

“Not really.”

“Then that shit can wait,” I snapped, then shut the door behind me.

Twelve hours later, I found myself in the same outfit, in the same office, doin’ the same damn thing. The scenario was startin’ to become the story of my life. I’d get up before the crack of dawn to keep an eye out any girls rollin’ out early in the mornin’. Then I’d start my daily beauty regiment, keepin’ myself lookin’ my best for Tony. Not once had he ever caught me without a nice hair-do and shiny colored lips waitin’ to kiss him ferociously.

My next move was the mornin’ meetin’, then I’d police the house and the girls ‘til ten at night, sometimes grabbin’ a
bite to eat in between. Of course my night would end just the way it did tonight.
Tired
!

I looked ova at Cinnamon who made her way toward my custom cabinets. I saw her grabbin’ my favorite cigars and reachin’ for the lighter above the fax machine. She was so on point and truly my right hand. She’d already poured my trusty glass of Chardonnay and collected the loot from all the girls.

The mood was mellow, with Lalah Hathaway’s new CD playin’ in the background. We had money scrambled all ova the floor separated by fives, tens, twenties, and hundreds. I didn’t accept ones- they did me no good. We’d already counted once and came up with $2,800 dollars.

It wasn’t my idea of great, but we’d at least reached my quota for the night. I knew Friday was comin’ and of course had high expectations. We’d opened the Friday before and made $5,600 dollars the first night, so this Friday I wanted more. $7,200 was what I wanted, nothin’ less. It seemed as though I was becomin’ greedier by the day. The money was gettin’ good and since Tony gave me fifty percent for runnin’ the place, I was ultra satisfied.