Smoke and Mirrors (37 page)

“Hey girl, what’s going on?”

“Heeeey, baby,” Juniper said sleepily, in her typical ‘just woke up’ voice. “Just getting ready for a date that’ll be here in about fifteen minutes. How are you holding up?”

“Not too good, to be honest. How are you?”

“Oh, Carla.” She yawned. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be, it’ll work itself out. Anyway, back to you.”

“I’m doing well. I take it you are still upset about not coming back? Look, did you talk to Paris again? Maybe she’ll reconsider. I can speak to her for you.”

“No, don’t say shit else to her! She let me know
exactly
where she stands. Girl, I spoke to Paris already and she made it clear that she was not trying to hear
anything
I was saying.” She sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. “If it weren’t for you working for her, I’d want to drop a damn dime on her ass with the quickness.”

“Ohhhh Carla, don’t be like that. Anyway, you know the police already know what Paris is doing. Hell, we’ve fucked half of the LAPD!” She chuckled. “They aren’t trying to get this shut down; they get discounts, too.”

Unfortunately, Juniper was right…

“You know that’s just how the game is, baby. You can’t go and choose another pimp or madam and they find out about it, Carla,” Juniper stated matter-of-factly, her tone rather singsong. “Even if she really does want you back, I suppose she may feel she had to set an example.”

“Tasha and her big damn mouth! That’s one bitch that is
definitely
on my shit list!” Carla looked around, noticing a blotchy faced woman with a scowl beaming her tiny, cloudy gray eyes in her direction. “What chew lookin’ at, bitch?!” The woman quickly turned away, mumbling to herself.

“Yeah, Tasha had it in for you. She is just catty and childish. You know I don’t even fuck with her. Let me tell you what she did. She had the nerve to double book and try to take over the Vegas room for my slotted appointment. No ma’am! I had this big time rich mothafucka coming in, and it was high stakes, baby!”

“Vegas room?”

“Ohhhh yeah, girl! Carla! You ought to see this shit! Smoke and Paris have put their resources together and they work as a team now. All I can say is money stacks is where it’s at! He must be layin’ that thang on her good, girl! Now that Paris is gettin’ laid again, and no doubt gettin’ laid
good
, we have more breathing room, too!” Juniper chuckled.

Carla was seeing red now, but tried to curb her mounting hatred for all involved. Not only was Paris fine, alive and doing dandy, she’d sunk her talons into Smoke and dragged him along for some business venture that was undoubtedly raising her even further up the monetary and reputable ranks.

“They have these theme rooms now, and they are a real riot!” Juniper continued, grinding the axe further into her heart. “We are so busy, way more than before, and the money is so good! That Lexus I’d been eyeballing, you know, the one I showed you a long time ago? I will finally be able to get in a few months. And I can pay for it in cash! Free and clear!”

“So, they just got together and did all of this, huh? Two brothels?” She tried to not allow her jealousy and angst to bleed into her tone, but it was an internal fight she just may lose.

“Yes, same as before but both places have different services, so it depends on what the john wants. Sometimes I go over to Smoke’s crib, and sometimes I stay put. We also took some classes by a real Dominatrix, Carla. It was unbelievable! I can’t wait to put my new skills to use! Security is also amped up, which is good. It makes me feel a hell of a lot safer. Not that Paris did a bad job or anything, but Smoke had some connections and it really helped. Paris still does the trick screening, and thus far, not one nut job has come through that damn door. She is on top of her shit now that Smoke is carrying some of the load.”

Carla looked at the shoes around her and wanted to toss the damn cheaply made things all over the store, mess it up. Juniper sure as hell wasn’t shopping at a discount store; none of those whores were! Her heart rate accelerated as she bit down her own anxiety and disgust regarding Paris’ good fortune.

“How do you know she isn’t cheating you?” Carla smirked. “I mean, are you really
seeing
all of this money? Since she took us… I mean, since she took far less cash collections, and the payments are done via credit card, you really have no idea.” She planted the seed of doubt, hoping it would grow and fester into something outlandishly wicked.

“Actually, Paris has been completely upfront with us. She gives us weekly report of all of our earnings. It comes directly from her bank, and she does like an excel spreadsheet too…shows all the johns, the pricing, everything. Now, of course she could still be taking some money we don’t know about, who really knows, but what I
do
know is that I am paid well. On top of that, from what I understand, Smoke went through great efforts to ensure that she was safe, not wanting her to get caught up in some shit in case something happened. I must tell you, it is kind of funny to see them together.” The naïve girl laughed. “He does seem to really care about her though, Carla. He seems good for her, too. He is a funny guy, a real trip. We’ve had dinner with him a couple of times and everything. He is real cool people. I’ve never seen a pimp act like him before. Don’t get me wrong—he has put his foot in some peoples’ asses in front of us, but he’s personable, I guess you could say.”

“…Yeah, real personable.” Carla frowned. “So how much money are we talking? She could afford to hire me back then,” Carla threw in, to make her question appear less invasive.

“I’m not sure, because we only see our own reports, not the total expenses and all that jazz but we got a raise and we can practically get any props and lingerie we want, within reason of course. She don’t keep the money here, though. Possibly for security purposes. She made that clear, I guess in case any of us got any ideas, like trying to find and steal it.” Juniper rolled in a chuckle. “You know Paris is about that bottom dollar. She don’t trust a ho, despite how close she may be to any one of us.”

“Well, she must have it all in the bank then.” Carla sucked her teeth, probing Juniper’s infantile mind.

“Yeah, maybe, but she got a safe at home, too. They gotta cash out and then deposit the money in segments. I was living with her at her house when she first started up and she and Smoke got some sort of system, so she said we should be okay.”

Yes, that’s right. Juniper was one of her first whores…loyal to the mothafuckin’ end.

“Back in the day, she always kept a little bit of money in there, for emergencies like if we needed something. With the way business is going now, I know that shit is stacked to the gods. The best part is, she is being real generous. We are all living much better…workin’ a bit harder, but it is well worth it.”

“Yeah…well, I gotta go. I’ll hit you up later,” she said with a bite in her tone, and no matter how she tried to curb the shit, it wouldn’t go away. It was there to stay, to fester and cover in mold and grotesque bacteria, stinking up her wishes for a happily ever after for her own damn self.

“Are you okay? Did I say something to upset you, Carla? I wasn’t bragging. I’m sorry if I made you feel bad… I shouldn’t have kept going on and on like that.”

“No.” Carla shook her head. “It’s okay, Juniper. I mean, yeah, I wish I could get back on, but as of now, that just isn’t possible. The fucked up part is that if Tasha had only kept her mouth shut, I would have been working for Smoke, at least indirectly, any damn way! Everything would have worked out. Shit, maybe he knew they were going to do this deal, and that’s why he rejected me! Not because he didn’t want me, you know? But like he knew I would be on his team anyway.” She shook her head, making a mental note that the next time she saw Tasha she was going to beat the living dog shit out of her. “It’s not your fault though. I’m glad at least
one
of us is doing well. You deserve it,” she added along with a forced smile, hoping it would transmit into her pitch.

“Awwww, thanks, sis! Well, I need to go anyway. Talk to you soon.”

“Yeah, bye baby…and have fun in Vegas!” And she ended the phone call.

She sat there on that bench, tapping her foot as anxiety manifested within her core. Swirling her tongue around, knocking it against her teeth, she plotted and schemed, once again embracing her thoughts of how to send a message to Paris loud and clear. And then, it hit her. A fiendish smile cracked her face as she got to her feet and went to the register, prepared to pay for her ten-dollar shoes. As the cash register cha-chinged, she thought about all the money she may get her hands on if she played her cards right.

Paris, by hook or by crook, you are putting my ass back on the payroll, whether you want to or not…

*

He hadn’t thought
about it in years…

Putting his Porsche in reverse, he gave another wave to Paris after dropping her off at home for the evening, and tried to steer clear from the wanderings of his mind, but it proved impossible. They’d just enjoyed a jazz concert in the park, during which one of the musicians strummed the instrumental version of, ‘Like a Virgin’ by Madonna on his guitar for comic relief. The crowd loved it, and said song prompted his woman to ask him about when he’d lost his own virginity. He told her the story, and it sounded so odd coming out of his mouth for he had not given it much thought since the evening it happened…

“Dad, I need to ask you something.”

Brent and his father had been having a relaxing evening together. One of the rare times when he got to chill with the man since Dad was always on the go. He wasn’t dressed in his fine suits, ties and dress shoes; no, he sat in a white Hanes t-shirt and black and white checkered boxers, his big feet propped up on the table. He had a joint in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other and the man was the best company he’d had all week.

“You gotta ask me something?” His father’s brow rose as he grabbed the remote and put the program on mute. “All right, what is it?”

“Why do I never see, well, rarely see, the women that work for you? I’d like to know more about what you do.”

His father just sat there for a while, looking rather confused as he tossed his long, black hair over one shoulder. Then, he took a deep breath and ran his hand over his head. “See, I don’t want to advertise.” He cracked a smile.

“What are you saying? I thought you wanted to be honest with me.”

“I do, I do!” He grinned. “But you see Brent, to tell you about it would be to promote it and I don’t really want you involved in what I’m doing. I told you the truth when you moved in because I felt like I owed it to you, but that doesn’t mean I want to get into the details of it all. Let’s just say that I conduct my business in a modern way.”

“I take it that means online?” Brent smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. The burn of the pepperoni pizza they’d just eaten crawled back up his throat on the push of a burp.

“Yeah.” His father nodded, smiling a bit, no doubt realizing he’d been figured out rather quickly.

“And then you dress all nice, and go to where they are having their date, wait for them, protect them and stuff like that.”

“Have you been…? Never mind.” His father rubbed his forehead. “Well, yeah, that is the condensed version of it.”

“Why wouldn’t you want me to do the same thing you do, Dad?”

“I don’t want you to, Brent, not because I think prostitution is wrong, but because of the consequences if you get caught. You wouldn’t last in prison, Brent. No offense,” he said with a hoarse laugh, “but straight up.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? You said that this is what the men in our family do, that it’s in our blood. You’ve only known me, I mean,
really
known me, for like seven months!” Brent was not particularly sensitive, but at that moment he boiled with anger. He wanted his father’s approval so badly, and now evidence slipped out that his father didn’t think he was cool at all, at least not cool enough. “What? You see me as some geek or something?”

“No.” His father leisurely reached towards the coffee table and picked up a fresh bottle of beer, taking a large gulp. “What I’m saying is, you live in your head, Brent. Just because something is in your blood, doesn’t mean you’re necessarily cut out for it.”

Brent rolled his eyes.

“That doesn’t even make any damn sense!”

“Yes it does!” His father lazily chuckled. “You’re very smart, though you don’t seem to believe it at times. You are a quick thinker, but you’re kinda withdrawn, introspective. You don’t like drawing attention to yourself, which is a bit impossible with those eyes of yours and as tall as you are, especially for your age. You’ve got a look about you, and it calls to people. You’re sensitive to people’s feelings, not wanting anyone to be upset, angry. A pimp can’t be worried about a bitch’s feelings, nor anyone else’s, for that matter.” The man’s voice drew icy. “The only person I give a fuck about is
YOU
. That’s why you wouldn’t make it, Son. You care too fucking much and it isn’t something I think you’ll grow out of. It wasn’t a put down, either.”