The Glamorous Life 2 (8 page)

What the hell he thought was so special about him? She flattered herself and chalked it up that maybe the store did realize that she was hitting them in a large way on a regular basis and the regular security wasn’t seasoned enough to deal with a pro like her, so they hired this clown. He was a real cocky tight ass, who acted as if he was somebody and she should be intimidated by him. The truth of the matter was that she was scared shitless, not of him but of the consequences.

Calliope said, “There must be some kind of mistake. The buzzer didn’t go off.”

There was something familiar about the security guy, but she couldn’t put her finger on it to figure out exactly what it was.

“I know,” he said, “but I’m still going to need you to come with me for a moment. Then, if there’s a mistake, we can get it all straightened out.” She wanted to try to break loose, but the hold he had on her was tight like vise grips.

“Oh, my!” one woman said. “I knew that little black girl couldn’t afford to step foot in this store.”

“Well, can you?” Calliope boldly asked, totally catching her off guard. She stared at the woman as she got closer, making her way past. “I bet yo credit card bill is about maxed out, living above your means, trying to keep up with the Joneses.”

Honestly it was nothing personal, but somebody had to say it. Calliope was already pissed that she had been caught and now this woman had the nerve to voice her thoughts on the situation, and to do it loud enough so that she could hear it. In Calliope’s mind, she deserved it and even though she wanted to wallow in her own tears, Calliope smiled when she realized she had made the woman turn red and hoped that her heart was pounding just as fast as hers. The woman dropped her head and that stopped the rest of the whispering of the store’s patrons.

Calliope couldn’t be embarrassed at the awkward sneak peeks from the other patrons as she was escorted to the back of the store. The only thing she could think of was how in the hell was she going to get herself out of this major jam? If she went to jail for grand larceny, then Compton would surely be sent back to The Home, and God knows that would kill her.

Once they reached the small room in the rear of the store, the “special ops” guy removed the items from Calliope’s oversized Gucci purse.

“Now what do we have here?” he asked, and just by the way he smiled, it hit her like a Mack truck; she immediately knew why he seemed so familiar to her.

“You’re the police that raided my mother’s house.”

Off-duty, Brad “Rusty” Cage, in plain clothes, was taken aback. He was doing a little security work over the holidays to earn a few extra dollars. At first he was confused, then recollection shone in his eyes. Somewhat.

He asked, “You have a younger sister or something?”

“Nope.” She shook her head. “But I got a little brother.” She teared up. “You sent us to Cemetery Grayshell.”

“Where?”

She informed him. “The Home. And you destroyed my life,” she said with pain, conviction, passion, and anger.

“I destroyed your life?” He was surprised and shocked to hear that. He’d been working the force a long time and came across criminals and none ever affected him in a way where he’d taken heed what they’d say. They all came with their bullshit excuses and stories.

When Calliope saw that he had a puzzled look on his face, she took cold advantage. “My life wasn’t the best before I met you. My mother wasn’t too much thinking of us. And, yes, my house was a drug enterprise. However, at least my brother and I ate every day, and we didn’t have to go to school hungry and get teased all the time.”

“And that’s my fault? And what does this have to do with me ruining your life and most importantly stealing clothes?”

“I have to take care of my brother, and our great-grandmother.” She put on a show for this one. “God bless her heart, but she’s old and is on a fixed income. That lil’ money the state give her, ain’t nothing on a fixed income, not to mention she has to get her medications and then my brother”—she shook her head and started crying real hard—“he hasn’t been right since. Lord have mercy.” She took one of the tissues off the desk.

“What’s wrong with your brother?” he asked.

“That boy hasn’t been right since our mother put us out and made us sleep in the outhouse in the backyard during the hurricane. He’s been traumatized. Nobody wants to take the time to understand the poor kid but me. I’m really all he got.”

He was quiet trying to assess the situation and she knew it.

“I begged you not to take us to that place, and you didn’t give a damn. So see your consequences, what you did?”

Rusty couldn’t believe this young woman was the same girl. She was so well developed, savvy, and beautiful. She had matured so much since he had insisted on having them removed.

“If you arrest me I’m not going to be able to watch out for my brother. He’ll end up back in The Home, and God only knows what will happen.”

“Grand larceny is a serious offense,” he said, remembering that he had a job to do.

“I’ll do anything not to go,” she said, knowing that he looked like he could be bribed. She was saying anything to get him to have mercy on her.

A funny look came over his face.

“Maybe there is something. If I could find you an easier way to make more money, would you be interested?”

“I told you already. I’ll do anything,” she said, unaware of how much things were about to change.

“I may be able to help you out.…”

That was seven months ago. Two hundred thirteen days ago to be exact. The same day she got caught slipping at the mall was the day she retired, bringing her brief and boosting—although fun, fabulous, and designer-label-filled while it lasted—career to a screeching halt … but it was the lure into a greater hustle.

Funny how quickly things changed,
Calliope thought as she carefully applied a liberal amount of MAC Cosmetics to her cheeks, lips, and eyes. She loved not only the way makeup made her feel but also how gorgeous she looked in it.

Fear galloped through her bloodstream. “I can’t go to jail,” Calliope said, matching the face standing before her with the one of the lead police that had kicked in her mother’s door. That was a bittersweet memory to add to her collection of them.

There was no sympathy for Big Jack, it seemed, in Rusty’s eyes. He deserved to die a horrible death—he was an evil dude—but the chain of events forced her to woman up.

“If something happen to me…” She started to cry. “There’s no one to take care of my brother.” She thought about what she told Rusty that day in that back room as she searched the hotel closet for the right dress. She chose a form-fitting black backless number. After stepping into her dress, she pulled the fabric over her emerald G-string and matching push-up bra by Victoria’s Secret and smiled. “Yeah, some dresses are solely for knockout purposes.”

A hyper-developed body made it easy to transform from sixteen-year-old jailbait to the appearance of a twenty-five-year-old seductress.

And the perverted routine that she participated in once a month had gotten a lot easier to be a part of than it had been the first time.

She reflected on that experience over seven months ago. “I don’t know about this.” Calliope had cringed within herself.

Rusty was a long ways off from the upstanding officer he pretended to be. He was one decorated cop with a hell of a dark side. He was as crooked and sneaky as a coiled cobra.

With a venomous smile that many mistook for comforting, Rusty said, “Think of it as role-playing. That’s all you have to do. Didn’t you always want to be an actress, in movies?” He kept trying to give her a pep talk. “Be like your favorite actress in a sexy movie.” He wore his uniform, badge, and gun … the whole shebang. But he sounded nothing like a police officer—he sounded more like one of the street swindlers that he was trained to lock up.

And nothing Rusty said made any of this any less crazy.

“So what part of the ‘movie’ do you play, Rusty?” Intentionally forgetting to address him as officer, shoot he was the furthest from one. She wondered how long it had been since he’d forgotten that he’d been sworn in to protect people.

There was that smile again—the one laced with poison.

“Producer,” he said. “Showtime is in fifteen minutes.” Then he slithered toward the door of the motel room he’d bought. Before he opened the door to leave, he turned back around, and said, “Just remember your scene, lines, and most importantly … your role.” Then he left the room, for the moment leaving her alone to stew in her fears

Shit! What have I gotten myself into?
she wondered.
I should have just taken my chances and went to jail, and tried my hand with the judge.
Then she thought again,
No the hell I shouldn’t. This is going to be okay. You gotta do what you do. It’s just that simple.

The knock at the door startled the bejeezus out of her, even though she was expecting … company felt like the wrong word to describe what was about to take place in the room.

She was a virgin, not only sexually but to this whole new way of living and means of employment.

The virtual elephant sitting on her chest made it impossible to breathe. She panicked. Asked God to get her through this. Then another knock at the door. This time harder. “Just a second, I’m coming.”

Breathe, Calliope.

Silently pleading for the walls to stop caving in on her, she cracked the door.

“Pumpkin?”

That was the name Rusty said he wanted her to go by. She wanted to scream, “Get me outta here!” Then she felt like saying to the client, “Fuck no! My name ain’t no damn Pumpkin, it’s Calliope. Now go away, pervert.” She said, “Come in,” instead.

The pervert didn’t look at all like what she expected a pervert to look like. He’d probably celebrated at least about forty-five birthdays. Italian—most likely his nationality, and the type of designer suit that neatly hung from a muscular six-foot body.

“Nice to meet you, Pumpkin.” He seemed to like what he saw, marching around her in a full 360-degree turn. He licked his lips. “You are so beautiful.” Yet he still sensed her uneasiness. “My name’s Roberto.” When he smiled, his teeth were ridiculously even, the whitest she’d ever seen in person.

Roberto’s eyes, black as coal, roved up and down the red dress Rusty had picked out for her. Then she saw it. It was just a flash, but it was there in those black eyes of his. A perverted lust, it was the same look Joey gave her when he was coming out of the bathroom and she was going in. It made her sick to her stomach.

“Do you want me to take it off?” She said it in a tone just a little above a whisper, and batted her eyelashes, just like Rusty asked her to say it.

Roberto bit down on his bottom lip. “Why not,” he said.

He was supposed to be a ridiculously rich real estate mogul from L.A. that liked to buy young pussy. It was his only vice and he had this euphoric look as if he was on a high as he took her hand and spinned her around.

It must’ve been a while since he’d seen someone as young as her because his eyes almost jumped out his head when her dress fell into a silk puddle on the floor.

God was she scared, especially when she saw his manhood bulging out of his pants.

Roberto reached out, trying to cop a feel of her cinnamon-freckled ta-tas. She pushed his hand away.

“The money. Fifteen hundred up front.”

Calliope couldn’t help but to steal a peek at the huge bulge in the front of his pants. She tried not to imagine how much it would hurt inside of her.

She’d hoped that Roberto would change his mind, but he gladly and quickly reached for his wallet so fast that he would’ve agreed on any price.

“Will hundreds be okay? Because that’s all I have, baby.”

Rusty instructed her to act like she was her favorite actress performing a sexy scene; it was too late to turn back now. Lights.

Roberto stripped down, never letting his eyes leave Calliope’s body, which stood in front of him. He placed his suit over the chair.

Camera.

Then came the boxers. He was huge, a white cream already oozing from the tip; he showed disappointment and lust in his eyes both at the same time. “Sorry, I just couldn’t help myself. But I’m going to take care of you and then we will be back in business,” and that’s when he reached for her …

Action!

From that very second, it felt like the world moved in slow motion. It was the longest two seconds of her life, and then the door to the hotel was kicked in.

“Police!” Rusty barged in, slammed Roberto on his naked ass onto the floor beside his polka-dot boxer shorts.

“You are under arrest for soliciting a minor and statutory rape.”

He slapped the handcuffs and Roberto’s face turned a deeper shade of red than Calliope’s dress, which she quickly put back on.

Even now thinking about the way Roberto begged to “work this out,” made Calliope laugh.

To keep the scandal out of the papers Rusty taxed Roberto a mint: twenty Gs and Rusty played fair and broke her off five Gs. It wasn’t half, but it wasn’t bad either. Every month after the first time seven months ago, Rusty somehow managed to rustle up another mark. Where he got them? She had no idea.

Glancing up at the clock made her realize that she had to get herself ready. She took her brand-new Manolo Blahnik stilettos out of the box and strapped those bad boys on and was out the door.

It was that time of the month.…

9

“Five hundred,” Moo-Moo exclaimed,
almost not believing his eyes when he caught sight of the fat grip his best friend was toting. “Where’d you get so much bread?” he asked in a lower voice, scanning their surroundings to make sure no one was clocking them.

Compton stuffed the money back into the pocket of his jeans.

The two had met over a year ago at school. Moo-Moo was Haitian and lived with his older brother, Jean-Claude. Both of his parents were deceased. The absence of that guidance cohabiting with grief was the glue that binded the two boys together. Other commonalities would unveil over time.

“Calliope hit me off. I’m s’posed to go get those new Jordans and some gear. Gotta stay fresh kid.” That was his best corny, fake New York accent.