flash, they fled the house and pulled away from the murder scene.
Pony vacillated between rage and remorse, crying and cursing as they sped away.
Marcus, on the other hand, was eerily calm. The demons in his head were satisfied. They had been urging him to kill for months, and now he had. “You acting like a real bitch right now,” Marcus said calmly. “Nigga, we ‘bout to come up.”
* * *
P.I.G. gave them the choice of buying a half a key of whipped cocaine for seven, or the same amount of the glass for eleven. They chose the latter. Most young cats would have gotten the whip even though the smokers didn’t really like it. Being junkies themselves, they opted for the better product.
“Good choice,” Earl said, congratulating their business decision. “Y’all ‘bout to get rich with this,” Earl said, completing the transaction. He knew that once the high-quality coke hit the streets, they would bubble quickly. He also knew they would fuck up just as quickly.
“Wonder who they robbed,” P.I.G. said once they left.
“I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough. They better never try us though,” Earl replied.
“They know not to try me!” P.I.G. said smugly, confident in the fact that Earl would protect him, just like he always had.
CHAPTER 12
B oth women were in their respective rooms, preparing to go to work at the club. For Tiffany, that entailed selecting an outfit suitable for her first night in a strip club. Several outfits later, she settled on a pair of tight-fitting jeans and a matching shirt. After much debate, a pair of two-inch heels were given the honor of completing the ensemble. “You go, girl,” Tiffany told the reflection in the full-length mirror. She took a hearty pull from her cocaine-laced blunt as she studied her figure. She did a little dance as she thought about how Wanda kept urging her to strip. “Uh-uh.” She giggled shyly at the thought.
Wanda was preparing for the night as well. After a shower and a douche, she applied a high- priced fruity concoction from Victoria’s Secret. She inhaled deeply, savoring the mango-peach aroma. Now that Tiffany would be bringing in some extra money, she planned to get strawberry- watermelon next.
She intended to squeeze the young girl for everything she could. Once she got her to dance, she would be open for anything. Then she and Mike could seduce her, easing the way for her to turn a few tricks. “Just a matter of time,” Wanda told her reflection. “Just a matter of time.”
She took a break from applying her make-up to load her straight shooter. The blunts just weren’t doing it for her anymore. Wanda knew she had to be discreet about it because Mike would lose his mind if he found out she was on the pipe. He hated her smoking primos, even though he was the one who introduced her to cocaine and still snorted himself. He had lost too many girls to the pipe as it was. “What he don’t know won’t hurt him.” Wanda shrugged before lighting her pipe. Her eyes grew large in the mirror as she twisted and turned the pipe under the flame. She held the smoke as long as she could before exhaling a putrid plume, then continued embellishing her pretty face.
* * *
Wanda suggested they take separate cars since she intended to spend the night at Mike’s condo once the club closed for the night. Tiffany followed closely, consumed in her thoughts all the way up Moreland Avenue.
Club Chocolate was a small, nondescript, freestanding building across from a twenty-four-hour grocery store. Tiffany realized she must have driven by it a million times and not even noticed. At night, though, it stood out like a garish sore thumb, illuminated by a ton of tawdry neon lights.
It was far too early for the ballers who frequented the establishment to be out, so the parking lot was near deserted. Soon, though, the parking lot would hold millions of dollars’ worth of exotic vehicles. A small section of the lot next to a side entrance was
Pony vacillated between rage and remorse, crying and cursing as they sped away.
Marcus, on the other hand, was eerily calm. The demons in his head were satisfied. They had been urging him to kill for months, and now he had. “You acting like a real bitch right now,” Marcus said calmly. “Nigga, we ‘bout to come up.”
* * *
P.I.G. gave them the choice of buying a half a key of whipped cocaine for seven, or the same amount of the glass for eleven. They chose the latter. Most young cats would have gotten the whip even though the smokers didn’t really like it. Being junkies themselves, they opted for the better product.
“Good choice,” Earl said, congratulating their business decision. “Y’all ‘bout to get rich with this,” Earl said, completing the transaction. He knew that once the high-quality coke hit the streets, they would bubble quickly. He also knew they would fuck up just as quickly.
“Wonder who they robbed,” P.I.G. said once they left.
“I’m sure we’ll find out soon enough. They better never try us though,” Earl replied.
“They know not to try me!” P.I.G. said smugly, confident in the fact that Earl would protect him, just like he always had.
CHAPTER 12
B oth women were in their respective rooms, preparing to go to work at the club. For Tiffany, that entailed selecting an outfit suitable for her first night in a strip club. Several outfits later, she settled on a pair of tight-fitting jeans and a matching shirt. After much debate, a pair of two-inch heels were given the honor of completing the ensemble. “You go, girl,” Tiffany told the reflection in the full-length mirror. She took a hearty pull from her cocaine-laced blunt as she studied her figure. She did a little dance as she thought about how Wanda kept urging her to strip. “Uh-uh.” She giggled shyly at the thought.
Wanda was preparing for the night as well. After a shower and a douche, she applied a high- priced fruity concoction from Victoria’s Secret. She inhaled deeply, savoring the mango-peach aroma. Now that Tiffany would be bringing in some extra money, she planned to get strawberry- watermelon next.
She intended to squeeze the young girl for everything she could. Once she got her to dance, she would be open for anything. Then she and Mike could seduce her, easing the way for her to turn a few tricks. “Just a matter of time,” Wanda told her reflection. “Just a matter of time.”
She took a break from applying her make-up to load her straight shooter. The blunts just weren’t doing it for her anymore. Wanda knew she had to be discreet about it because Mike would lose his mind if he found out she was on the pipe. He hated her smoking primos, even though he was the one who introduced her to cocaine and still snorted himself. He had lost too many girls to the pipe as it was. “What he don’t know won’t hurt him.” Wanda shrugged before lighting her pipe. Her eyes grew large in the mirror as she twisted and turned the pipe under the flame. She held the smoke as long as she could before exhaling a putrid plume, then continued embellishing her pretty face.
* * *
Wanda suggested they take separate cars since she intended to spend the night at Mike’s condo once the club closed for the night. Tiffany followed closely, consumed in her thoughts all the way up Moreland Avenue.
Club Chocolate was a small, nondescript, freestanding building across from a twenty-four-hour grocery store. Tiffany realized she must have driven by it a million times and not even noticed. At night, though, it stood out like a garish sore thumb, illuminated by a ton of tawdry neon lights.
It was far too early for the ballers who frequented the establishment to be out, so the parking lot was near deserted. Soon, though, the parking lot would hold millions of dollars’ worth of exotic vehicles. A small section of the lot next to a side entrance was
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