Murderville (11 page)

“Lib, I don’t mean to put you out but the customers. . . .”

“Don’t worry. I’m leaving,” she whispered as she wiped her nose. A shiver ran down her spine. She quickly dressed and dropped her head as she headed towards the exit. She didn’t even see the black limousine that was sitting curbside outside of the store until it was too late. She was snatched up before she could protest and stuffed inside the car.

“Don’t make a scene, Liberty,” Abia said as soon as Liberty’s behind hit the leather seats.

“Am I going to die?” Liberty asked. She didn’t want to beat around the bush. She had seen girls be killed for much less.

“No,” Abia answered shortly. “The bad days are over Liberty. I told you a long time ago that you had to earn your stripes. You have done that. Now you’re ready . . . I’m about to introduce you to an entirely new world. The pain is over. It’s time to enjoy the spoils of this business.”

“And Trixie? Where is she?” Liberty asked.

“You mean the guy who grabbed the gun?” Abia asked.

“Don’t call her that. She’s more woman than you’ll ever be,” Liberty shot back.

Abia smiled at Liberty’s loyalty, knowing that men paid top dollar for that type of dedication.

“She wasn’t caught, and she better hope that she never is. They will kill her for a stunt like the one she pulled,” Abia replied honestly. “Now I don’t have time to babysit. At this level it’s no longer enslavement, Liberty. You’re not trapped here, but most of the girls choose to stay. Spend one day with me . . . let me show you the ropes . . . if you don’t like what you see you can walk away free and clear.”

“I can leave?” Liberty asked in a disbelieving tone.

“You’ve worked the boulevard for eight years. You’ve earned the right to make your own choice . . . but at least know what you’re walking away from before you decide. One day. That’s all I ask of you,” Abia stressed. She reached into a compartment inside of the limo and pulled out a silver dish filled with heroin. As soon as Liberty saw it, her breath caught in her throat. She needed to hit that as soon as possible. Her body was yearning for it.

Liberty nodded as her tense body remained on pins and needles. She did not know what to expect, but she decided to go with the flow. At that point she needed a pick me up and without any cash of her own, Abia was the only one who could fulfill her craving. “Okay,” she agreed.

“Okay,” Abia said with satisfaction as she opened her legs and placed the drug-filled dish on the seat in between her legs. “Come get it.”

Liberty got down on the limo floor, positioning herself between Abia’s thighs and as she indulged in the drug, Abia stroked her hair. Liberty was stepping into a completely new world, one where her destiny would be in her own hands. One where eroticism and seduction was enjoyable instead of forced. As Abia’s fingertips massaged her scalp, Liberty’s entire body began to tingle. Her hands felt like silk feathers as Abia kneaded and stroked the contours of Liberty’s neck. She was a woman with much experience. At thirty-two, she had experienced every aspect of the game and although she was retired from servicing clientele, she mentored every girl who came under her wing. They each admired her, and Liberty would be no different. Abia was a legend in the business. With every new girl that passed through her hands, she established a pecking order. Abia was the head-bitch-in-charge, no exceptions, and she seduced each new girl so that they understood who was the lead dog in the pack. It was Abia’s extravagant world, and she was the queen. Liberty set up lines of heroin, filling up with as much as possible to avoid the empty feeling that had just tortured her. Her eyelids fluttered from pleasure as Abia caressed her.

“Have you slept with a woman before, Liberty?” Abia whispered as she rolled up the window that separated them from the driver.

Liberty nodded her head as she continued to snort the powder between Abia’s legs. Abia reached down and removed the dish, then pulled her thong to the side. “Are you good at it?” she asked suggestively.

Completely caught up in the orgasmic feeling of her high, Liberty’s curiosity got the best of her. Numerous women had paid her for her services during her days of tricking, but none had ever been like Abia. Her essence was different from any woman Liberty had ever encountered. She possessed a mystique that made Liberty’s body react to her. Abia lifted Liberty’s shirt and rubbed Liberty’s hardened nipple as she repeated, “Show me.”

Liberty pulled Abia to the edge of the car seat and put her hands beneath Abia’s behind as she dipped her tongue inside her warmth. Liberty was no amateur. She knew how to make any human being cum. Women always paid the most so Liberty had made sure that she was good at it. She pulled Abia’s clit in between her lips and licked it with just enough pressure to make Abia squirm.

“Oooh,” she moaned, surprised at the pleasure that Liberty was giving her. Liberty sucked and pulled while softly nibbling on Abia’s flesh button. Liberty knew that she was being tested but was confident that she was passing with flying colors. The way that Abia was contracting her ass let Liberty know that she was doing her job. She flicked her tongue back and forth, fast and then slow . . . slow and then fast before sucking it with just enough pressure to make Abia’s eyes roll in the back of her head. Liberty was so into it that she reached one hand into her own panties and played with herself as she brought Abia into ecstasy. Abia smiled in complete bliss as she caught her breath, and Liberty sat back on the seat, directly across from her. Liberty’s head fell back as she wiped her mouth.

“Is that good enough for you?” she asked.

“That was the best,” Abia replied with a smirk. She was surprised at Liberty’s ability to pleasure a woman and could only imagine the skills she had acquired for sexing a man.

There was no way that she could let Liberty slip through the cracks. She needed her as an addition to the brothel. It was a money game and with a working girl like Liberty, Abia knew that she couldn’t lose.

Liberty was flying high as a kite and her soul was content as the heroin took her to a temporary sanctuary of euphoria. Her neck was on a swivel as she looked out of the limousine’s windows at the multi-million dollar homes that were nestled in the hills of the city. Beverly Hills seemed like light years away from where she had just come. The manicured lawns, privacy fences, and opulent mini-mansions were breath taking.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Home,” Abia replied simply as she placed oversized Gucci glasses on her face.

NINE

WHEN THE CAR PULLED UP TO THE
mansion Liberty was in a state of disbelief. When she had thought of working a brothel, she had pictured something completely different. This was luxury at its finest. She immediately felt out of place in the sweat suit she was wearing. She looked down at her threads.

“Don’t worry, Liberty. No one is here to judge you. These girls came from the exact same place that you did. They know what it’s like. Let’s just go inside and freshen up before I show you around,” Abia stated. The driver opened the door for them, and Abia exited the vehicle. Liberty hesitantly followed. She felt like she had just been sent to Emerald City. She may as well have been on another planet—that’s how foreign the opulence was. She pulled nervously at her clothes as she followed Abia inside.

“There are twenty girls that live at the mansion. Ten are veterans and ten are new girls like you,” Abia explained while giving Liberty a tour of the estate. “We understand the importance of personal space and privacy here so each of you has your very own master suite.” Abia opened two French doors and spread her arms wide to show Liberty her room. She gasped at the beautiful décor. “This is your room if you want it,” Abia continued as she spun around, showing off the lovely space. Liberty couldn’t wait to soak in the deep-jetted bathtub or sit at the vanity and brush her hair. Although it seemed trivial, those were things that she had never done . . . to be a true woman, in control of her own destiny. She had no idea what that felt like. Liberty was speechless at how things had changed in the blink of an eye.

“There has to be a catch,” Liberty stated.

“No catch, Liberty. This is the life. We don’t deal with bullshit johns that make you feel worthless. Our client list consists of politicians, stockbrokers, judges, athletes, oil tycoons . . . the elite of our society. Many of our ladies don’t stay in the business long. Many have been turned into the wives of the men that frequent here,” Abia stated.

“What’s the split?” Liberty asked as she weighed the pros and cons of the situation. Part of her wanted to leave and never look back, but there was something so intriguing about Abia’s offer that Liberty could not refuse her.

“60/40,” Abia replied frankly. “But all of your other needs are taken care of . . . you get to live in this fabulous home rent free. You get to drive foreign cars and rock designer clothes. You get to live the life that most people only dream of.”

A knock at the door interrupted their conversation as another girl entered the room.

“The glam squad is heeerre,” the girl announced excitedly as she clapped her hands together.

Abia smiled knowing that her team of professional stylists was right on time.

“We’ll be down in a minute,” Abia told the girl. She turned back to Liberty. “There are clothes and toiletries in the walk-in closet. You should be able to find something that can fit you. If you decide to stay you’ll be given a stipend each month to update your wardrobe to your tastes. You get yourself together while I go freshen up. I’ll meet you downstairs in a few and then I can introduce you to everyone.”

Liberty nodded as Abia left her to soak it all in. Liberty immediately entered the adjoining bathroom and ran herself a bath. She hadn’t been allowed to ever relax and unwind. Bathing was a rare occurrence back at the warehouse and as she entered the steaming water, her body melted from appreciation. The tub was large enough for a group of people to sit inside and she stretched out as the scent of shea butter entered her nose. This is crazy, she thought. 24 hours ago she didn’t even know that something like this existed . . . now here she was thrust in the middle of it all, feeling slightly overwhelmed because she was unsure of what was expected of her in return. It all seemed too good to be true.

Liberty soaked her body until the water ran cold and hurried to the closet to dress. She was taken aback when she stepped inside. It looked like a fashion boutique. She had never owned more than one outfit a day in her life and as she thumbed through the racks of designers she was floored. She picked out a long-sleeved, backless, mini-dress, with studded shoulder accents and matching designer shoes. The expensive fabric felt so foreign on her skin, and she felt slightly out of place.

A knock at the door caused her to turn around.

“It looks good on you,” Abia said. “You ready? The others are waiting for us.”

All of the ladies gathered in the personal salon and for the first time Liberty saw the type of women she would be working with. They were a completely different breed than the ladies on the track. Everything about these new bitches shined. It was obvious that they were getting money; even after the house took its cut, the girls were stacking paper. Everything from their Brazilian blowouts to their perfectly manicured hands and feet indicated that they were far from amateurs. This wasn’t a hobby . . . this was a career, a lucrative one. Abia put her hands on Liberty’s shoulders and escorted her to one of the styling stations. As she stood behind her looking at Liberty’s reflection she saw a gold mine. Once Liberty was cleaned up she would undoubtedly be the most valuable girl in the house.

It took hours for Liberty to make her transformation. Her long bone straight hair and Chinese bangs accentuated her face perfectly. Abia had gone all out . . . no expense had been spared. By the time the makeovers were complete the new girls couldn’t be distinguished from the old. Even Liberty was in awe of her own beauty and tears accumulated in her eyes as she looked at her reflection in amazement.

“This is unreal,” she whispered, unable to quit staring at herself.

“It’s real Liberty . . . you just have to embrace it,” Abia whispered as she handed her a crystal wine glass. Abia turned to the group of women and raised her voice so that everyone could hear her as she addressed all of the new girls that she had just rescued from the warehouse. “You all have a choice to make. You can stay or go, but this is the time to decide. If you would like to walk away . . . there is the door. You can do so without any repercussions, but if you would like to stay and live this life then lift your Pinot Grigio in the air.”

Abia waited and noticed that every single glass was lifted in the air except for Liberty’s. She turned towards her and asked, “What do you say? You can go out into the world and be ordinary, or you can stay here and live extraordinary.”

Liberty lifted her glass and Abia smiled in satisfaction. They sealed their agreement with a toast . . . it marked a new beginning for Liberty. It was the next phase for a young woman whose life was predestined for tragedy.

A’shai pushed the all-black Range Rover down I-75 on his way to East Detroit to check on his father’s crack spots. Baron quickly introduced him to the family business, and he took to the streets like a duck took to water. A’shai had quickly moved up the ranks and became his father’s eyes and ears to the streets. By day he was a college student but by night he ran the most sophisticated and lucrative drug operation Detroit, Michigan had seen in years. He couldn’t help but to think about how Baron handled Bonzi earlier that day. It made him reevaluate his tactics. Baron was a strategic thinker and it was as if he had played chess with Bonzi . . . and won.

A’shai pulled into the housing projects that sat just off the highway and parked. He made his way to the ‘trap spot’ and knocked on the door in a five knock rhythm that was the only way to gain entry. A woman opened the door and the aroma of cooked crack cocaine hit him in the face.

“Oh, it’s Shai!” the young redbone yelled enthusiastically as she stepped to the side to let him in. She gave him a flirtatious smile and cocked her hip to the side in hopes to get extra attention from him. However, A’shai paid her no mind, despite the fact that she wore no clothing. He stepped into the apartment and a wave of greetings and stares came his way. A’shai remained silent, only nodding to the girls acknowledging him. All the girls were naked with doctor’s masks on; all of them doing their part in the elaborate drug operation. A’shai didn’t allow them to wear clothes while working in order to prevent theft. Some cooked the crack, some chopped it up, and some girls weighed it. It was all a smooth operation that trickled down from Baron’s regime. The trap spot was one long apartment that was originally three apartments until Baron knocked down the walls, combining them. Baron owned the building so it didn’t throw up any red flags to the authorities. On top of that, the handsome pay that he bribed the local police department with kept the law out of his business.