Pimp (21 page)

He said, “Bull-shit bitch, this chump is in my school. I ain’t gonna let you Georgia him. Now nix, bitch, nix.”

I heard her high heels staccato against the tile as she fled. He turned toward me. His black face was gray with fury. Maybe Sweet would forget I wasn’t yellow. I remembered what Top had told me about those four murders.

He thrust his flat black nose against mine. I could feel a spray of spit strike my lips as he cursed me. He twisted the collar of my vine like a garrote around my throat. He had snatched me six feet from the wall.

He shouted, “Listen you stupid little motherfucker. You know why that bitch screwed you around? You always grinning like a Cheshire Cat. What’s funny? Can’t I get the sucker outta you? I can’t make a pimp outta a pussy like you.

“I told you once, do I have to tell you a thousand times? Greenass Nigger, to be a good pimp, you gotta be icy, cold like the inside of a dead-whore’s pussy. Now if you a bitch, a sissy, or something let me know. I’ll put you in drag and you can whore for me. Stay outta my face Nigger, until you freeze up and stop that sucker grinning.”

I heard his ground grippers skid against the floor as he hurled me against the wall. The back of my skull torpedoed into it. Through a drowsy fog of pain I saw him float away.

My back snailed down the wall. I laughed at the funny way the shoe tips turned in as the long legs glided across the tile. I sat there on the cool floor gazing at the weird comical legs stretched out before me.

I saw a pair of blue mohair legs right angle the flat ones. I looked up. It was Top. He bent over to help me up.

He said, “Kid, now you believe the ugly bastard is insane? Take this key to my Hog. Get it outta the lot in back. Park in the block and cool it. I’m getting outta here myself as soon as I cop my end of the smack scratch.”

I riveted my eyes to the champagne carpet. I zigzagged through the snickering whores and pimps. I made it across the pit to the elevator. The Filipino was standing beside it. He was pressing the down button.

He looked like a friendly brown snake sausaged in gold foil. He reached up and stroked my jacket collar down flat from around my ears. He took my lid off the pearl tree. He stuck it on my skull and snapped the brim. I felt the sweat band needle the aching boil. I adjusted my lid.

He said, “Good night, Sir. Sammee hopes you had fine time.”

I said, “Sammee pal, it’s been a wild night. I’ll never forget it.”

I got a whiff of crotch as the elevator plunged to the lobby. I wondered if the pretty brown-skin jockey whored a little bit as a sideline.

I stepped out of the gilded cage into the lobby. I saw a winking red-arrowed sign in the rear. I walked to the glass door below it. I went down the white stone steps to the parking lot.

I spotted Top’s red Hog in the ocean of cars. I went to it, unlocked it and got in. A big white Buick was parked in front of it. A grinning brown-skin joker in white overalls came toward the Buick.

I saw Smitty blue-stitched across his breast pocket. He pulled the Buick out. I keyed the Hog and scooted it out of the lot. I whipped around the corner and coasted to the curb fifty feet from the entrance of Sweet’s apartment building.

I shut the motor off. I lowered the driver’s side window. I put my lid on the seat. I threw my head back on the top of the seat. I closed my eyes. I dozed. Something was crushing my jaw. A blinding spotlight burned into my eyeballs. I heard a fog-horn voice.

It blasted, “Police officers! Nigger, what the hell you doing. What’s your name? Show us your identification.”

I couldn’t answer with my jaw crushed in a vise. I was dazed. I lowered my eyes below the inferno of light. I saw a white brutish wrist. Thick black hair bristled on it. I saw muscles cord and ripple across it as the vise tightened around my jawbone. I wondered if the copper was Satan and I had croaked in the Hog and was being checked into Hell. Hell or not, Satan wanted identification. I remembered the Fox and the Horse. I didn’t even have a hide.

Satan swung the Hog door open. The door frame blackjacked the top of my skull as Satan yanked me from the Hog. He released my jaw and slammed me across the hood of the Hog. My wet palms skidded on the top of it.

Satan’s fellow demon was punch-frisking me from breast to shoe
soles. He poked an index finger inside my shoe. I felt a tickle in the arch of my instep.

I said, “My name is Albert Thomas. Hell, I wasn’t doing anything officers. I was just waiting for my uncle. I lost my wal—.”

I didn’t finish. A galaxy of shooting stars orbited my skull. It was like a flame-hot poker was imbedded in that sore bump at the back of my skull.

I heard the tinkle of glass against the hood. I puked and nosedived to the hood. I felt the warm stinking mess against my cheek as I lay across the hood gasping.

Glass splinters sparkled on the hood. Satan had slugged his flashlight against my skull. I saw the fellow demon’s shadow bobbing inside the hog. He was frisking it, too.

Satan said, “Nigger, you got a sheet downtown? Whatta you do for a living?”

I whispered, “I’ve never been in trouble. I’m an entertainer. I’m a dancer.”

He said, “You black, conning bastard. How in the fuck do you know what a sheet is? You been mugged, Nigger. Stand up straight. I’m gonna take you downtown. You can jig a few steps on the ‘show up’ stage.”

I struggled off the hood. I turned and faced him. I looked up into the red, puffy face. Top came around the back of the Hog and stood between us.

He said, “What’s the beef, officer? This is my nephew and my Cadillac. The kid was waiting for me. He’s clean. We been to a party at Sweet’s. You know who he is. We’re personal friends of his, you dig?”

Satan’s puffy face creased into a hyena grin. He rapped on the windshield. I saw the demon’s starch-white face peer over the rear seat. Satan waved him from the Hog. He clambered out and stood beside Satan.

Satan said, “Looks like we made a slight mistake, Johnnie. These
gentlemen are pals of Mr. Jones. Mister, all your nephew had to do to beat the roust was mention a name.

“Christ, we have to do our job. There’s a cat burglar operating in this district. The lieutenant is riding our asses to nab him. Sorry about the whole thing gentlemen.”

The rollers walked across the street. They got into a black Chevrolet and gunned it away. I took a handkerchief from my back pocket, and wiped my face.

I wiped the bits of loose glass and most of the puke off the hood. I threw the rag in the gutter. I got in the Hog. Top u-turned and headed back to Black Town. I touched the bump on my skull. I felt a spot of sticky ooze. My skull had only a tiny split. I wiped my fingers on the end of my lapel pocket handkerchief.

I thought, “If it gets any rougher on this track, I’ll be punchy before long. Maybe I better take Preston’s advice and go back to the sticks.”

I said, “Jeez, Sweet Jones sure has got pull. It was like magic when you cracked his name.”

Top said, “Magic your black ass. The only magic is in that C note a week Sweet lays on ’em. Every copper in the district from Captain down greases his mitts in that lard bucket in Sweet’s pocket.

“Mary, mammy of Jesus, you stink. You musta shit in your pants. You sure getting funky breaks, Kid. Too bad you couldn’t handle Red Cora. She’s one of the fastest thieves in the country.”

I said, “Look Top, if that crazy, pocked-face bitch had a tunnel straight into Fort Knox, I wouldn’t fart in her jib. I hate old hard-leg whores.”

He said, “That’s a chump crack. After you get hip to the pimp game you’ll take scratch from a gold-toothed, three-legged bulldog with two heads. Say listen, Kid, don’t ever forget to keep that rundown on Sweet under your lid. I’m the only stud he told. He’d twist my skull off and play soccer with it.”

I said, “Now Top, that’s a helluva crack to make. Do I look like
the kind of rat square that would cross a pal?”

I was glad when I saw the Haven’s blue sign. Top parked across the street from it. I got out. I had crossed to the middle of the street. Top blew the horn. I turned back to the side of the Hog. Top had my lid and a small square of paper in his hand. I took them.

He said, “Kid, here’s my phone number in case you wanta ring me for something. Take it easy now.”

I passed through the lobby. The indicator pointed out the elevator was at the fourth floor. I took the stairs and picked up the sizzle from the broom closet. The runt let me in after the first knock. I walked by her to the bedroom and stuck the sizzle in a coat pocket in the closet. I started taking my stinking clothes off. She was standing in the doorway. I tossed them in a pile in the corner.

She said, “Daddy, when you passed me you smelled like you’d been dunked in a garbage truck. What happened?”

I headed for the bathroom. I was standing over the stool. She followed me. She stood in the bathroom doorway. I looked over my shoulder at her.

I said, “Bitch, some white rollers busted me tonight. They got the wire I’m in town to pimp. They took me down and beat the puke outta me. Baby, they wanted me to finger you. They wanted to know where you worked. Shit, I was too pure in heart to put a finger on you, baby. I’m not feeling worth a damn, so go on the dummy, okay?”

I flushed the toilet. I turned the shower on. I gave her a hard look and frowned. She turned and got into bed. I took Mickey off. It was four
A.M
. I showered and toweled off. I fell into bed without checking the scratch on the dresser. I went to sleep wondering what to do to solve the fast track.

I
woke up. The sun was noon bright. I heard a squad of rats or something in the direction of the closet. I turned and looked. It was the runt. She was on her knees in the closet scraping and pulling suitcases and shoes around. The back of my skull was sore and throbbing. I touched it, and felt a crusty cap over the bump.

I thought as I watched the runt’s rear end, “What the hell is she doing?”

I said, “Damn Bitch, can’t you put a damper on that racket? I gotta aching skull. I wake up, the first living thing I pin is the rusty black ass of a dizzy whore. She’s digging a ditch in the closet. Now there’s gotta be a prettier way to start a day.”

She snapped her head around and said, “I’m looking for the reefer. I feel low. Where did you stash it? I couldn’t find it last night when I came in.”

I got up and went to the closet. I ran my hand into the coat pocket stash. I separated my stuff from the reefer inside the pocket. I gave her the can. I saw two lonely saw bucks on the dresser. I went back and got into bed.

I said, “Bitch, I take an outside stash, where else?” I don’t wanta come home some night and greet a roller. Wouldn’t it be a bitch if he had that can of one to two in the penitentiary in his mitt?

“Christ, your scratch for last night is shitty. What happened? Some joker stick you up? That reefer ain’t making you lazy is it? A double-saw take for a young freak bitch is outrageous. Shit, you broke your luck for the double saw with the lover, Sugar Blue Eyes.

“You musta shot a blank the rest of the night. I’ll murder you, bitch, if I find out you freak off all night with your tricks for a double saw.”

She was licking at the sides of the joint she had rolled. She sat on the side of the bed next to me. She rolled her sassy eyes at me.

She said, “Daddy, I’m your girl. If I ever stop loving you, I’m gonna quit whoring for you. If you don’t croak me I’ll get another black man when we’re washed up. Right now I’m in your corner all the way.

“White tricks don’t move me. I want to vomit when they paw and slobber over me. I baby talk them, but I hate them. Daddy, I just want their scratch. I get a thrill with them all right. It knocks me out that here I am, a black Nigger bitch, taking their scratch.

“A lot of them are clean-cut high muckty mucks in the white world. Some of them show me pictures of beautiful wives and cute children. It makes me feel greater than those white bitches living in soft luxury. Those white broads got Nigger maids they laugh at. They think we ain’t good for nothing but clowning and cleaning. It would give them a stroke to see their trick husbands moaning and groaning and licking between a black whore’s thighs.

“I know I ain’t got no silky hair and white skin. I’m damn sure hip those white men ain’t leaving Heaven to come to Hell every night just for the drive. They coming because those cold-ass white broads in Heaven ain’t got what these black whores in Hell got between their legs. Black and low as I am, I got secrets with their white men those high-class white bitches ain’t hip to.

“Now Daddy, we rap so little I got earned away. I ain’t nobody’s fool but yours. I wanted to rundown to you this morning about last night. You put me on the dummy remember? After I turned Chuck
at the Martin, I got a roust. Two white vice coppers picked me up. They rode me around and felt over me. One of them was a mean, nasty bastard. The other, blond nice one, was sorry for me.

“Nasty said, ‘I know this black bitch is a cinch ringer for those eight larceny from the person beefs. We oughta take her down and put her on a Show Up or two. What the hell Carl, we know she’s a whore.”

“Blondie said, ‘But Max, she ain’t no hard leg. She’s just a beautiful young sexy kid with a mother to support. You know how tough it is for Boots to get three squares and a roof in this town. Let’s give her a break and cut her loose. Jesus Max, this broad has got a pair of thighs on her. She’s soft as kitten fur.’

“Nasty said, ‘Carl, you sure got a weak spot for spades. This broad says she’s broke. That black ass of her’s ain’t enough to buy a pass from me. If she ain’t too shy to show what her Derby’s like, maybe, I say just maybe, I might give her a break.’

“I’m driving into this alley. Carl, you test her lid and snatch. If you ain’t raving how great it is upstairs and down when you finish, I’m gonna wheel outta this alley and toss her black ass in jail … I’m gonna book her on those eight counts of larceny. If she’s lucky she’ll get a deuce.’

“Daddy, Blondie pushed my head down to his lap. Then I got on the back seat with him. That freak bastard, Max, turned around and kept his flashlight on us the whole time. I made Blondie holler.