Trap House (23 page)

Of course he knew nothing of the safe nor its contents. Wanda planned to come back and clean
that out on her own.

In an odd twist of fate, Tiffany pulled directly into the parking space as Marcus pulled out. Each
was too consumed by their thoughts to notice the other. She had been dialing Mike’s number since
leaving home and never got an answer. “I know he here,” she said aloud, noticing the Porsche and
Lexus both in their places.

As she grabbed a couple of the smaller bags, a police car whipped up and stopped at the building
entrance. Two officers jumped out urgently and trotted inside. Tiffany followed behind and waited
on the next elevator. The next car came, and Tiffany rode up to Mike’s floor. When she arrived, she
could see Mike’s door was wide open, and she tilted her head curiously at the anomaly.

As she neared, the younger of the two police who had rushed in rushed out and tossed his
cookies in the hallway.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” Tiffany asked the officer, who was now turning green. He
was too busy regurgitating donuts to respond.

Tiffany left the sick man and rushed into the apartment. The front room was in order, so she
followed the sound of the second officer’s radio and found him standing over the splattered bodies.
A bloodcurdling scream alerted the police officer to Tiffany’s presence, but before he could say a
word, she fainted.

When Tiffany came to, she found herself on the living room sofa with an EMS tech hovering
over her. For the next few minutes, she watched the detectives and CSI personnel swarming in
and out of the condo. When she regained her composure, she was taken to the Major Crimes
Department at police headquarters. There, she was grilled by the detectives assigned to the case.

“What was your relationship to the decedent?” the older of the two asked genially.

“To who?” Tiffany asked, confused by the new term.

“The dead guy,” the other cop shot back. “How did you know the dead guy?”

“Oh, Mike? He was my boyfriend.” Tiffany sobbed. “We were moving in together today.”

Her answer caused the detectives to share a conspiratorial glance. The two cops excused
themselves to huddle in the hallway.

The next person to enter the room was a CSI tech who swabbed Tiffany’s hands for gunshot
reside. She had become a suspect.

For the next several hours, she fielded hundreds of questions. “Who was the girl? Did Mike
have enemies? Where did he get the $200,000 in the safe?”

Tiffany couldn’t answer any of their questions. The reality of there being a woman present
shook her soul. When the GSR test came back negative, she was cleared.

“If it wasn’t for your loss, we’d have called Dekalb County. They got a warrant for your arrest,”
the portly cop told her.

“Thank you,” Tiffany mumbled, grateful not to be going to jail, especially with the half-ounce
of crack in her purse. Since she was too shaken up to drive, a patrol car took her home. She decided
she could retrieve her car in the morning; for now she just needed a blast.

* * *

The next morning, a federal investigation was set off by the money found in the safe. In a
week’s time, the club, the houses, and the cars were seized by the Feds.

Tiffany was out of a job and a place to live overnight, instantly jobless and homeless. The only
thing that remained was a serious drug habit that demanded to be fed.

CHAPTER 21

W
anda was pissed at not being able to get at Mike’s fortune, but his being dead was the next
best thing. Since Marcus was still getting good dope from Pony, she slid under him.

Pony was still looking out for his childhood friend by giving him ounces to “sell.” He was
supposed to bring back $500 on each one, but he never did. Pony only did it to keep Marcus out of
his hair. He was getting rich and didn’t need the distractions Marcus was sure to bring.

Marcus and Wanda smoked far more than they sold. There was always some sort of P.I.G.-
style freak show going on at the house. He and Wanda had sex with each other and whoever else
happened by.

Pony was feeding him with a long-handled spoon but was growing tired of him. Marcus was
hanging on by a thread but didn’t even know it.

* * *

Pony heard through the grapevine that Tiffany was dancing at Dimes on Buford Highway.
Dimes was a questionable strip club that featured black, white, and Mexican girls. The local police
made arrests for prostitution or drugs there on a regular basis.

Tiffany, with her outrageous masturbation show, was an instant hit. Once the regulars from Club
Chocolate found out where she was, they flocked to see her, boosting her status with the owner.
She was making plenty of money to support her addiction without having to trick. Each night after
work, she’d pick up a package from P.I.G. and retire to the extended-stay hotel she called home.

“Hey, stranger!” Tiffany said, delighted to see the familiar face, known to have the best dope
in town.

“Hey, yourself. I’ve been looking for you,” Pony said, extending his arms for a hug.

“Well, you found me,” Tiffany said, accepting the hug. “Wow! I see you missed me,” she
teased, feeling an erection rise instantly in his pants.

“Come on. Let’s get outta here,” Pony said, his voice hoarse with desire.

“I can’t go yet. I ain’t made my rent yet,” she whined, stripper talk for
“Sure, we can go fuck,
but you gotta pay me.”

“Shit, shawty, you ain’t got to worry ‘bout rent or nothing else, long as you wit’ me,” Pony
bragged, backing up enough so she could see he was balling.

Tiffany could tell by Pony’s treatment of her that he expected the old, sweet, naïve Tiffany, so
she became her. She contracted her vaginal muscles so tight that Pony wondered if she wasn’t a
virgin.

He lasted about two minutes before slumping over, head-over-heels in love with her. “Do you
know how long I wanted to do that to you?” Pony asked between gulps of air.

“Yeah,” Tiffany said with a giggle, going into little girl mode.

“What you mean, ‘yeah’?” Pony said, chuckling and tickling her sides.

Tiffany laughed and squirmed, not because she was actually ticklish, but because “Whatever
the customer wants” was her mantra. “I always knew you liked me. I liked you too,” she said coyly.
“If I wasn’t with Marcus—”

“That nigga is a fool! You with me now,” he said confidently, then filled her in on Marcus’s
latest antics.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Tiffany asked as she fished her shooter out of her purse.

“I do mind,” Pony said bluntly. He was shocked to see she was now smoking out of a pipe. “It’s
time to let that shit go!” he said.

“But, baybeee, I like to get high!” Tiffany whined.

Pony pondered in silence for a moment. He had wanted Tiffany since third grade. He waited
until he got his weight up before even stepping to her. He figured she was still using, just not
actually in the pipe. “Take that shit in the bathroom,” he barked. “If you gon’ be wit’ me, that shit
gotta go!”

“Thank you, Daddy! Ima quit,” Tiffany squealed, although she had already made up her mind
to bounce if he didn’t let her smoke. “Wait till you see how horny it make me,” she added over her
shoulder as she rushed into the bathroom.

Pony’s eyes were glued to her lovely ass as she bounced away. Crack or no crack, he was
sprung.

As Tiffany twisted and turned her pipe under the flame, she plotted on how to deal with her new
man. The ideal situation was to get him smoking again. Since he was plugged in with P.I.G. and
that good dope, they could get high all day. She got a good laugh out of picturing herself as Pony’s
Blast, only prettier. If that didn’t work, she resolved that she would ride the Pony Express as long
as she could. “No way I’m letting you go,” she said to a piece of cocaine before smoking it. Once
she finished her package, she went back into the bedroom and sucked Pony’s brains out through
his dick, sealing the deal, she hoped.

* * *

After her attempts to get Pony back on the pipe failed, Tiffany went back to dancing. This
allowed her both the money and the time away to get high. Pony kept on her about her drug use,
so she hid it from him. At the club, she could smoke as much as she liked, but she also stole a blast
or two at home when she could. If Pony was careless enough to leave any drugs unattended, they
were smoked.

Almost all the girls at the club were on something. It was a common sight to see someone
snorting, smoking, shooting, or popping something. The savvy manager got a cut from the select
dealers she allowed to operate inside of the establishment. A skinny, tattooed white boy named
Two handled the meth, while a Mexican called Droopy had the weed. There was a smooth black
dude who called himself Ali-Rock who had the blow, hard or soft.

All the dealers had
carte blanche
throughout the club and unlimited access to the private rooms.
It wasn’t unusual for them to sometimes trade their wares for sexual favors.

Ali-Rock had taken a liking to the back of Tiffany’s throat, and they bartered daily. It was
during one of those bartering sessions that Pony decided to stop by and see his “wifey.”

When Pony stepped into the club, he was greeted by a tiny Asian girl with huge breasts. “Hey,
you looking for your girl?” she asked mischievously.

“Excuse me?” Pony said, startled by both the question and the size of her breasts.

“You’re Pony, right? Tiffy’s man?” she said, drawing his attention back to her face. Like most
of the other girls, Angel hated Tiffany. She had been the star attraction until Tiffany came along,
playing with herself. Her outrageous masturbation show stole the show.

“Um, yeah…where she at?” Pony said, scanning the stages.

“Follow me,” Angel said, leading him by the arm. She led him into the private room that Tiffany
and Ali-Rock had just excused her from. When they arrived, Angel pushed the door open and
stepped aside.

“Uh huh! Suck that dick, you nasty bitch!” Ali-Rock demanded as Tiffany worked her head
furiously. She was ass naked in full slut mode, the way Ali-Rock liked her. Tiffany was literally
gagging herself trying to please him.

“Hey, Tiffy, ya man’s here,” Angel sang before walking off.

Pony stood there in shock, unable to move or speak. If the music hadn’t been so loud, they all
could have heard his heart break.

When Tiffany looked up from Ali-Rock’s throbbing crotch, she was so surprised that she tried
to speak before removing his dick from her throat. The resulting gargling, gagging sound caused
Ali-Rock to crack up laughing. “Ayo, ma, don’t talk with your mouth full.”