Brooklyn Brothel (18 page)

I chuckled like that wasn’t gonna happen. “Problems? At Betty’s? Umph.”

“You never know,” he told me. “Let’s just say he squashes all beefs. No need to discuss it anymore,” he stated firmly.

I breathed heavily like I’d been talked to like a child. Tony neva gave his comment a second thought, he stood from his desk and brushed past another thin, quiet guy who waited for Tony to give him instructions. While Tony whispered into his ear, my eyes remained glued to the photo behind his desk restin’ on the window pane. It was an Italian woman in her early forties and two small children with bright smiles.

“The wife,” I chanted under my breath. Neva fails. She looked to be a petite woman just a little smaller than me, with big, blonde hair and sweet, innocent eyes. Too bad her husband wasn’t the sweet, devoted man he probably pretended to be.

I glanced back at Tony noticin’ how well dressed he always seemed to be. He wore a pair of expensive lookin’ jeans, and a light blue polo shirt. I watched as he ordered the thin guy, who’d maintained his serious scowl, to run some supplies ova to Jersey and to do some cleanin’ along the way.

I thought,
cleanin’
?
What the fuck is that
? The whole conversation was real Soprano-like. I loved it though, makin’ me feel like I’d gotten hooked up with a straight up mobster- who was on the real-in charge. I hardly understood any of the Italian lingo. All I knew was there was somethin’ dark and sexy about his operation. They were like black dudes with accents.

“Make it happen, Bruno,” Tony said endin’ his conversation. He slapped the guys hand and did some sorta shoulder dap.

“What do you actually do Tony?” I asked sexily as soon as the guy I now knew to be Bruno left the room.

“I make things happen.”

“What do you do otha than lie on your back?” he shot back. Tony moved forward, placed my head between his palms and kissed each side of my cheek firmly.

“Are you dissin’ me?”

“Not at all,” he responded. “I really want the best for you. I think I have something for you to do. You’ll make more money and feel good about yourself, too. Besides, I want you to be my lady.”

Call me naïve but I was sorta touched by Tony’s concern for my well-bein’. Plus, if bein’ Tony’s lady meant bein’ taken care of, then I was down with that, too. “Well, if it can
happen this week, I’m down,” I finally said. “’cause next week I’m headed home.”

“Home?” He started playin’ FBI agent. “Why you keep talking about leaving?”

“Cause I gotta go,” I whined in my innocent voice. “I need to get my son. He’s with his dad, but not for long. Besides, if I come back, where do you and I go from here?”

His next set of words surprised me. “What if I offer you a job?”

“Doing what?”

“A lot of things. One, being my lady. Two, running one of my businesses.”

I laughed. “I got the skills to be your lady,” I said rubbin’ my hand across his chest. Tony had pressed my backside into his desk and was all ova me like he wanted some. “But runnin’ one of your businesses…I don’t know about that.”

“Have some confidence in yourself,” he demanded. “I’m sure you won’t be an empty suit. Just say yes.”

I laughed again as the feel of his hand goin’ up my skirt tickled me. “Yes, yes, yes,” I said, not sure what being his second lady meant, ’cause the lady in the picture was his first. “When do I start?”

“Look Co-Co, I’m a busy business man. I’ve got about twelve businesses and tons of employees. But it’s hard findin’ trustworthy people. I think you’ve got what it takes to be on my team. Besides, you got good pussy.” He laughed, then went into his pocket and pulled out five crisp hundreds.

“What’s this for?” I asked.

“It’s your pay for being my lady.”

My expression switched to a more dumbfounded look. It was wild ’cause I felt like I owed him a service; at least lick his balls one time. “What I gotta do?” I asked. My shoulders hunched.

“Nooooo…you’ll earn it later. It’s just money. From
where I sit it’s an investment. You’ll earn me ten times more with your smarts.”

Suddenly, Tony lifted my body onto the expensive lookin’ mahogany desk like he wanted to celebrate our new workin’ agreement. Inch by inch he moved closer all up in my grill like he really wanted to be my man.

“I really like you, Co-Co,” he admitted.

“Then call me Chantel.”

He laughed, then nudged his face into my neck, kissin’ my nape thoroughly. “So we getting personal?”

“If you want.” I paused. “Can you handle it?” I joked, then looked ova my shoulder at the photograph of the perfect family.

His eyes followed mine. “Oh, that situation is about to change.”

“Really? It is your wife, right?”

“For now.”

Tony jerked his body backward, eyeing me like a juicy piece of meat. He licked his lips a few times in between sayin’ he wanted me at that very moment. I thought
damn, he wants to fuck me right in front of his wife’s picture
? I watched him grab at his belt buckle, but instead of unbuttonin’ his pants, he knelt down beneath me, allowin’ his teeth to gnaw at the denim material of my skirt.

Tony wasn’t the same man who’d showed up at Betty’s, he was now some sort of romantic knight. The way he stroked each of my legs, lickin’ them softly had me soaked. My body just sunk into a relaxed state as he made his way to my middle. The moment he hit my spot with his warm tongue, I lost control.

“Damn, Tony!”

“Shhh,” he told me, then laid his hand on my belly pushing my upper body backwards. “Lay back,” he moaned. “Let Killer Tony show you how it’s done.”

I wanted to ask where in the hell the Killer Tony bullshit came from. I just couldn’t respond. He had his tongue so far up in me I coulda sworn he was near my ovaries. I lifted myself again tryna run my fingers through his fine hair, but got slapped on the arm. I wanted him to be more emotional, but I could neva get that outta him. He was so matter-of-fact most of the time. …except for the reality that he was fuckin’ the shit outta me with his tongue.

Sweat poured from my body as the feelin’ of Tony’s weapon twirled around my treasure. I seemed to be hyperventilatin’ and completely in the zone of ecstasy.

“Yes….yes…. Tonyyyyyyyy…yes!”

I could feel my orgasm comin’, but I didn’t wanna blast off. It was far too soon. I kept pushin’ myself further into his face, grindin’ my wetness, hopin’ he would eat faster and deeper. I wanted my quick, delicious secret with Tony to last a while longer.

It didn’t. I couldn’t hold on any longer. I howled like a wolf on attack, “Owlllllllllllll, shit!” Then again, “Ohhhhh.”

With each breath I took, I felt guiltier by the minute. Tony had risen from the floor, but faced me with a grin. I felt like a sexual disaster as I slid my wet ass off the desk. I knew Tony needed to be pleased so I rushed him, and dropped to my knees, ready to suck him off. When he rejected me, I instantly developed a frown. “Why not?”

“I got a meeting. A very important one,” he added, crinklin’ his eyebrows in the process. “Some things I just can’t be late for. Matter of life or death,” he ended with a weird laugh. “You and I will hook up tonight,” Tony added in between his flavorful hand gestures. “I’ll have somebody pick you up. Just call me when you’re ready. Capiche?”

“Capiche.” I grinned at my new personal Sugar Daddy, hopin’ I wouldn’t have to climb outta the window to hook up with him. “Tony, let’s get one thing clear. If you come back to
Betty’s for any reason, you’d better not try to fuck with one of the otha girls. Can we agree on that?”

“Do you really think you’re gonna be there that long?” He pressed his finger against my lips orderin’ me not to answer. “You have a new job, remember. I got you,” he said pushin’ me toward the bathroom. “Go clean yourself, then I’ll have one of my guys see you out. We’ll discuss the details tonight.”

I rushed toward the bathroom with a school-girl smile on my face. I walked backwards makin’ sure Tony acknowledged all the kisses I kept throwin’ his way. The crazy thing was, I saw him pick up the picture of his wife and kiss at her like it was her pussy he’d just attacked.

Fuck it, he’s my man too
, I told myself as I entered the bathroom.

Twenty minutes later, I jetted outta Tony’s spot feelin’ better than ever, but tried to make it seem like somethin’ else was botherin’ me. The frown on my face was the result of me thinkin’ ’bout jumpin’ back in the car with Mike, after gettin’ my shit ate out like a watermelon rhine. My intent wasn’t to hurt Mike. After all, he seemed to be the only man in my life who wanted nothin’ from me.

By the time my foot hit the bottom outside step, Mike was outta the car and headed around to my door pretendin’ to be my chauffer. He smiled at me when he opened the back door, but I couldn’t look him in the eye.

He leaned his head further down makin’ sure his eyes got a good look at me. “Everything okay?” he asked, with his dreads danglin’ near my forehead.

“Yeah. It’s cool. I got everything straight.”

Mike’s eyes assured me that he knew somethin’ was fishy. He just shut the door once I got in, and did a quick strut back to the driver’s seat. Once inside, he adjusted the mirror of course makin’ sure I felt uncomfortable. When he pulled
from the curb, he still kept his good eye glued to the back seat.

I ignored him, and kindly turned the otha way. Shame is a muthafucka, I convinced myself. On the ride back ova to Brooklyn, all I could do was think about what Tony offered me. It was a chance to have easy money, no worries, and a slight move up in the world as a mistress; but it also meant not havin’ my son for a while. The crazy thing was that Tony excited the hell outta me. The way he talked, walked, sang, and even chewed was like some real-life mobster shit. At first, I thought it was because he was older than me, then I thought about his money, then I realized it was just Tony. He was slick like that….and there was so much I wanted to know about him. The more I thought about Tony, the more I grinned. The quiet thirty minute ride had given me time to rest, think, and sulk in peace. A few times I caught Mike watchin’ me blush.

“You okay back there?”

I put on my game face ready to answer, but buzzin’ sounds of helicopters flyin’ ova us caught my attention. It seemed to chop through the air in circles makin’ a helluva lot of noise.

I sat up realizin’ we were just a few minutes from Betty’s. It was almost eleven o’clock so my time was short. Mike looked as if he still wanted to talk to me, but it just wasn’t a good time. The loud sirens from behind caused me to whip my neck around tryna focus in on the ruckus. At first, I thought the squad cars were after us until three police cars zoomed past and stopped at the barricade blockin’ 86
^th
Street.
Oh shit!
Betty’s street
.

The helicopter above seemed to follow along while I sat in the backseat with my eyes wide open. At least Mike maintained his composure. He pulled up slowly facing north, while Betty’s street was on our right. He rolled down his
window ready to ask questions. A plain clothes officer in a black FBI jacket eyed him closely as he spoke.

“Sir, I wanted to drop off my sister with a friend who lives on that block. Is it safe?” He pointed to his right, makin’ sure the officer knew what he meant.

The officer moved closer to the car. “It’s safe. But a house is being raided right now.”

My heart skipped a beat and my stomach rumbled inside. “Raided,” I mumbled.

“Yeah, raided,” the officer responded. “If it’s not urgent, I suggest you come back later. The only cars we’re letting down the block are residents.”

The officer ended by placin’ his hands on the ledge of the window and givin’ me a quick once ova. With a quick yank, my skirt eased down like I wanted it to, makin’ sure I didn’t give off any signs of bein’ a hooker. My looks didn’t need to get me associated with Betty’s. If my intuitions were correct, Betty was goin’ down.

“So who you going to see?” the officer asked whippin’ out a small spiraled notepad.

Stuck on stupid was the look now plastered across Mike’s face. “Uhh…”

The officer had his pen in an upright position ready to write.

“Ms. Lillian,” I announced liftin’ myself from my seat. “She’s the little old lady who lives in the house with all the figurines out front.” I pointed to my right as if I wanted to point to a specific house. It was obvious we couldn’t see down Betty’s block from where we were sittin’, but I had to pretend.

“Do you know the address?” the officer asked.

“Not sure.” I hunched my shoulders. “I just come by and help her with some housekeepin’ from time to time.”

“So what’s your name?” the officer continued to inquire.

I panicked. Would the officer ask me for identification if I gave a bogus name? Why would he ask me that shit anyway? Were they lookin’ for me? “Chantel Sharpley,” I finally announced. I figured I would give him a fake last name at least.

“Chantel, maybe you should come back to help your friend later.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Mike ended, puttin’ the car in gear. He pulled off and shot down the block just as nervous as I was. My heart pounded even more when I heard his fist hit the dashboard. “What the fuck?” he shouted as we passed Betty’s street on our right. It was then that I knew, we were both thinkin’ the worst.

Instantly, four yards down the block, he whipped the black Towncar into an empty space, and hopped out. Without hesitation, I hopped out, too. Mike started ramblin’ like crazy. He said he needed to get in touch with his police friend at a nearby district. He would be able to tell him how all this went down. From what Mike told me, normally, he was on point and would tell Mike if the police had heard anythin’ suspicious about Betty’s.

We both surveyed the block makin’ sure the officer who’d just interrogated us wasn’t watchin’ us speed walk back up the street. The area had become super chaotic. Two men on foot wearin’ FBI jackets shot past us and made a left directly onto Betty’s block. And it seemed like more and more people from the hood headed from their homes to be nosy. I began a slight trot as soon as I made it to Betty’s street. Her house was finally in view. Swarms of officers surrounded the house just talkin’, and watchin’ their co-workers enter and exit the house. It all happened so quickly. It seemed like I blinked, then saw Betty being led down the stairs of the house in handcuffs.