Working Girls (16 page)

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Authors: Treasure Hernandez

BOOK: Working Girls
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Turn the page for a sneak peek at
Teasure Hernandez's
Flint Book #3
Coming soon . . .
Chapter One
H
alleigh looked in the mirror and saw a person who bore no resemblance to the young woman she used to be. It seemed like just yesterday she was an excelling senior in high school dating the most popular boy at school, who just happened to be the biggest up and coming basketball star since LeBron James. The two of them shared champagne dreams of him signing a lucrative NBA contract and then moving the two of them as far away from the city of Flint as possible. But now, more than a year later, she was a high school dropout, trickin' with johns for a living.
“What happened to me?” It was the question Halleigh asked herself as she recalled what once was. Before her recent days of whorin' and druggin', her life had been all planned out, and not one of her plans consisted of being pimped out to the highest bidder. She was supposed to marry Malek—her rising superstar athlete, her savior—and live happily ever after. She had wanted it all: everything that being on the arm of an NBA star offered. She had been ready to accept her position as Malek's wifey.
Unfortunately, Halleigh's real life didn't live up to her fairy tale fantasy. Her life had gone from Heaven to Hell in the blink of an eye, and she'd had enough. Halleigh watched the tears flow down her face as she stood in front of the mirror. They weren't tears of force that came from heaving and overreacting. They were true tears of a broken, hopeless spirit, and they stained her face as she looked down at the gun in her hand.
The day Halleigh copped the gun, she had actually intended to ask her get-high buddy, Scratch, to cop her some heroin instead. But then, on her way to meet Scratch at their spot in the alley—where they had initially met when he tried to rob her with a stick concealed to look like a gun—she noticed how people were looking at her now. Having been nothing short of a dime-piece, Halleigh was used to turning heads. She was used to the gawking of men and the envious glares of women. But this time, the attention was different. They were stares of disgust and pity.
As Halleigh walked by a used appliance store, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window. She stopped in her tracks and gasped at the frail sight before her. Slowly, her hands began to roam her face, just to confirm that the reflection was actually hers. Were those really her eyes she was looking into? Once upon a time those eyes had been full of life and energy, no matter how much negativity they had witnessed.
Halleigh allowed her hands to roam down her body. Wearing tight-fitting jeans with knee-high stiletto boots and a sequined top, she thought she looked just fine, but underneath her hands she could feel almost every bone in her body. Taking a long, hard look at herself, Halleigh, too, was disgusted by what she saw.
The store owner interrupted her when he came out of the store and asked if he could help her with anything. Without saying a word, she walked off crying. As far as Halleigh was concerned, what she had just seen wasn't her, but a disintegrating corpse of her former self. She was as good as dead. She felt like death. That was the moment she decided she was better off dead than living the way she had been.
When she asked Scratch to help her cop a gun, he wasn't for it at first. He was trying to get high with Halleigh's money, not waste it on a cold piece of metal. But after realizing that he could cop a gun and still have money left for a hit, he obliged her plea. She hadn't told him what she intended to do with the weapon. Now, Halleigh stood with the gun to her temple. The cold steel was pressed against her clammy skin, and her body reacted by breaking into a cold, nervous sweat.
Moments from her life flashed before her eyes—all the heartache and tragedy she'd experienced—and she had a drastic decision to make. To live or to die? To fight or to retreat ? To win or to lose? She was tired of struggling to survive in a city that had no love for her. She was choosing death, and there was no turning back. Halleigh put her finger just above the trigger . . .
“Hal, what are you doing in there? Open the door!” Mimi's voice came from the other side of the bathroom door, where Halleigh had been locked in for the past half-hour.
Halleigh didn't respond.
“Halleigh?” Mimi called again. “Open the door. Why you locking doors around this mu'fucka? You know Manolo will have a fit.”
Halleigh's arm shook uncontrollably as Mimi continued knocking. “Just pull the trigger,” Halleigh whispered to herself. “All of the pain will go away. Just end it.” A small cry escaped her lips and she lowered the gun.
“Halleigh? Are you all right? You crying? Open the door,” Mimi said, her tone now filled with concern. When Halleigh failed to respond, Mimi sensed that something was terribly wrong.
“Tasha!” she turned around and yelled. “There's something wrong with Halleigh!”
Tasha's head appeared from behind her bedroom door. She wore only a bra and panties. “What do you mean something's wrong with her?” she asked.
“I mean she's in this mu'fucka with the door locked and she's crying.” Mimi then began to whisper. “I don't want the bitch to do nothing crazy. You know she just been through all that shit with Malek.”
“Fuck you whispering for, like she can't hear you?” Tasha asked as she walked up to the door and put her ear against it. She, too, could hear Halleigh whimpering.
“Hal, open up the door so we can talk,” Tasha urged, now somewhat concerned herself. She picked up where Mimi left off knocking on the door. “Halleigh, listen. Just open up the door,” Tasha pleaded then turned around and stared at Mimi, her eyes wide with fright.
“I told you,” Mimi said knowingly. After all the drama and heartache that Halleigh had experienced, Mimi wasn't surprised that she was flipping out.
Halleigh could hear them calling for her, but ignored it. She knew what she had to do, and she wasn't going to let anything distract her from doing it. She lifted the gun to her head again and cocked the semi-automatic.
Click, click.
“Was that a gun?” Mimi asked, but before Tasha could reply, they heard a loud sound coming from the bathroom.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
Tasha pounded her open hand frantically against the door. “Halleigh, open the damn door!” Tasha screamed desperately.
“Oh my God! She killed herself! She shot herself,” Mimi shouted in a panic. “Tasha, do something!”
Tasha felt helpless. As the madam of the house, Tasha was supposed to keep all of the Manolo Mamis in line. This was why Manolo had appointed her to the job. But as a woman, Tasha also felt like she was supposed to protect them. She hated the fact that she might not have been able to protect one of the girls from her own self.
Tasha mustered up all her strength and threw her body against the bathroom door. When she finally broke it off its hinges, she raced into the bathroom to find Halleigh laid out on the floor.
The sound of the gunshot had been deafening as it ricocheted off the bathroom walls. The force had been so great that it knocked Halleigh off of her feet and onto the floor, where she lay, uninjured.
“Fuck is you doing?” Tasha screamed as she rushed over to Halleigh's side. Her shoulder throbbed from the impact of breaking into the bathroom door, but she disregarded the pain as she picked the gun up from the floor and handed it over her shoulder to Mimi.
“Hey, watch how you handling that thing,” Mimi said, carefully taking it from Tasha's hand.
Tasha focused her attention on Halleigh, who was shaking like a leaf before her. Her cries built up in her throat as she struggled to contain her emotions. “Shhh, come here,” Tasha comforted her. “It's okay, Hal. Everything is gon' be all right. I've told you that everything is going to be all right. You just gotta hold on, ma,” she assured as she put her arms around her friend and rocked her slowly.
Mimi appeared back at the doorway after burying the gun in a drawer full of lingerie. She looked down at a visibly shaken Halleigh. “Is she all right?” she asked Tasha.
“Yeah, she's okay. She's gon' be fine,” Tasha replied, still holding Halleigh tightly.
Mimi had never been one to get emotional. The only thing that made her cry was missing out on money, so when Tasha looked up and noticed that Mimi's eyes were full of tears, she outstretched her other arm to invite Mimi into the embrace. Mimi quickly filled in the circle and hugged Halleigh as well.
“It's time for this to stop,” Tasha stated, her voice cracking. “We can't do this to ourselves anymore. Manolo is the only person getting something out of all this. He's beaten Hal down to the point where she feels she needs to take her own life. This is bullshit. Nobody should have that much power over us. Nobody!” Tasha had to fight back her own tears. “You and me, Mimi, we're a different breed. We're strong. We can handle this life better than Halleigh. But look at her. . . . Look what this is doing to her.”
Mimi nodded, but said no words as Tasha continued. “First it was the drugs, and now this.” Tasha shook her head.
Halleigh was too distraught to reply. She had just attempted to take her own life—and she might have succeeded if not for the fact that her heroin-wasted muscles couldn't even hold the weight of the gun to aim properly. Otherwise, her two friends would be weeping over a dead and bleeding corpse. But that's what Halleigh felt like, anyway : dead, and bleeding on the inside.
“Ain't no way we leaving Manolo and living to tell about it,” Mimi stated. “You already know how he is, Tasha. So you tell me how we're supposed to get out of this situation. And if we do, how we gon' survive? All we used to is selling pussy. So what's the difference whether we're selling it for ourselves or Manolo? Selling pussy is selling pussy.”
Tasha knew that Mimi's words were true. They couldn't just walk away from Manolo. He was Daddy, and would kill them before he let them leave. And even if she did find a way to pull the girls out from under Manolo's clutches, what would be their means of survival? She was stuck between a rock and a hard place. But that didn't deter her from wanting to escape from Manolo's iron-fisted rule.
“What are we gon' do?” Mimi asked again.
“Let me think. Damn!” Tasha replied, aggravated that she didn't have the answers to Mimi's queries on the top of her head. “For right now, just shut up and help me get Halleigh up from the floor.”
Mimi gave her a questioning look, still wanting answers.
“Look, all I know is that I'm gonna have us out of here by the end of the week,” Tasha stated.
Halleigh looked at Tasha, and an emotion finally registered on her face. It was a look of surprise, laced with disbelief. “I promise, Hal,” Tasha reaffirmed. She didn't know how she was going to pull it off, but she knew she had to at least try . . . for the sake of all of them.
Chapter Two
T
asha pulled down the visor to check her makeup in the mirror before she exited the car. As she walked into the Flint Police Department, a look of contempt crossed her face. She hated the police and everything associated with them, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Heads turned as the police officers admired her shapely legs, which stretched out beneath the red shirt-like dress she had ordered from a Fredrick's of Hollywood catalog. It fit just tight enough to reveal the outline of her round behind.
As Tasha walked by officers who were just standing around shooting the breeze or updating one another on police business, she noticed the lustful stares, and a smirk crossed her face. Your pockets can't afford this pussy. Fuckin' pigs. She turned her nose up as she walked over to the front desk.
“What can I do for you?” an officer asked. He was looking at the
Daily Journal
and never even looked up to acknowledge her.
“I'm here to see Detective Troy Davis,” she responded.
Tasha figured that her visit to Officer Troy was long overdue. After all, he was the cop who Manolo supposedly had in his pocket—and it was Tasha's pussy that had sealed the deal. Her trick with Officer Troy was what had brought Tasha out of years of retirement, so as far as Tasha was concerned, he owed her one.
“Have a seat. I'll see if I can track him down,” the officer responded.
Tasha nodded and sat with her legs crossed seductively in front of her. She massaged her legs suggestively as she waited for Officer Troy to come into sight. She needed his help and knew that she would have to give a little to get a little. She knew that she looked good. She had her fuck-'em dress on, and she was sure that Detective Troy Davis would take the bait.
“Miss Tasha,” he called out.
She turned around to see Officer Troy standing there, looking his usual lame, bald-head self.
“To what do I owe this unexpected surprise?” Troy asked as he rubbed his hands together and approached her. He licked his lips as he looked her up and down.
This cornball-ass nigga, Tasha thought as she flicked her hair behind her shoulders. She did all she could to ignore the fact that Troy's bald head was shaped funny, that he had had one doughnut too many, and worst of all, that he was part of Flint PD—a stinkin' cop. But she needed something, so she'd have to put on her game face and play her hand right. “Is there somewhere we can go to talk? You know, privately?” she asked, batting her eyes then allowing them to travel down to his crotch. It was only partially visible, due to the way his bulging gut hung over his belt.
“Yeah, let me show you to my office,” he replied.
Tasha stood and followed him through the precinct. When he put his hand on the small of her back and massaged it gently, she knew that she had him right where she needed him to be. They went into a small, messy office and he pulled out a chair for her then took a seat behind his desk. He had closed his office door, leaving on the other side a few drooling fellow officers who wished they could be in his shoes.
“What can I do for you, Tasha? What is it that you want from me?” he asked as he leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. He had intentions of getting her right where he wanted her, too. It was an open playing field right about now. It was anyone's game.
“Why does a girl have to want something?” she asked sweetly, giving him a genuine smile. He wasn't as naïve as she had assumed he was, and she knew that she would have to play her cards right in order to get him to help her out.
“Because you haven't said one word to me since our little rendezvous at Wild Thangs, and that was . . . what? Over a year ago?”
“Well, you know how it is in my line of work. A girl gets busy,” Tasha reasoned.
“Oh, but now all of a sudden your busy schedule has permitted you to just show up here out of the blue looking for me?”
Tasha shrugged as if to say, “That's what it looks like.”
“My luck ain't that good, sweetheart. So let's try this again. What can I do for you?”
Tasha knew it was time to change her strategy. She didn't want to insult Troy any further by making him think she was taking him for a fool. She was confident, however, that by the end of the day he'd been playing the fool anyway.
“Okay, I'm not gon' try to game you because I know you ain't falling for the bullshit anyway,” she began.
“You damn right about that, shorty, so let's just be real,” Troy stated.
Tasha smiled because she had Troy thinking that he was in control. Using reverse psychology, she was still gaming his ass, making it seem like he had the upper hand. She had to give herself a pat on the back because she was truly one of a kind. There wasn't a man alive who could outsmart her. Not even Manolo.
Tasha wasn't like the other girls when it came to Manolo. He hadn't had to trick or manipulate her into becoming a Manolo Mami. She knew exactly what she was getting into when she met South Side's most notorious pimp. Her entire goal was to become a kept woman, and if proving her loyalty to this man meant selling pussy for a couple of years, then so be it. Tasha's initial plan had always been to become the madam, the ruler over all of the other girls. It just so happened that Tasha's plan came to fruition a little sooner than she had expected.
Unfortunately it wasn't only Tasha's hard work and loyalty that placed her on the throne, but a horrible incident that she would never forget for as long as she lived. Being the strong-headed fighter that Tasha had always been, she didn't let the brutal assault by one of her johns keep her down. Instead, she used it to her advantage and convinced Manolo not to put her back on the streets. Instead, he allowed her to be the madam of the house—the kept woman—without having to turn one trick for the rest of her life if she didn't want to.
When he made the decision, Manolo had taken into consideration the true loyalty Tasha had shown him. And besides, the madam of the house definitely had to be somebody with Tasha's personality . . . someone who the girls knew they couldn't run over even with a Mack truck. So Manolo showed her favor and obliged her request, taking Tasha off the streets and giving her charge over the girls. But now Tasha needed a favor from someone else.
“Okay, I need a favor,” Tasha told Troy.
“So the plot thickens,” he replied sarcastically.
She raised her eyebrows and looked at him like he was crazy before she replied, “Are you gon' let me finish?”
“I'm sorry, sexy. Go ahead.”
“I need you to raid Manolo's club,” Tasha said bluntly.
“What do you mean, for show or something?” Troy asked with a puzzled look on in his face. Manolo had been allowing Troy a free supply of pussy from the Manolo Mamis in exchange for “overlooking certain things.” So he couldn't imagine why else Tasha, whom he had known to clearly be on Manolo's team, would want him to raid Wild Thangs, Manolo's strip club.
“No, not for show,” Tasha corrected him. “For real.” She moved in closer to Troy as if she was about to tell him something top secret. “He's got ten bricks and a little over fifty thousand dollars in a wall safe in his office,” she admitted. She bit her tongue and knew that it was because she was snitching. Under any other circumstance, she wouldn't even be caught in a police station, but she figured Manolo had this coming to him. She had watched him manipulate the minds of young girls for years.
Tasha knew she played a role in the manipulation too, which was why she felt a responsibility to help Halleigh, and now Mimi too, get their lives back on track. This was the reason she was abandoning her principles and snitching in order to bring Manolo down. She couldn't take back the heartache, pain, and even the death that some of the prostitutes had suffered, but she could at least save others from it. If ever there was a time she needed redemption in her life, it was now. She hoped that her efforts wouldn't be in vain.
Troy sat up in his seat and looked Tasha directly in the eyes. “This ain't news to me. I know what goes on in that club. The thing is, Manolo got me on payroll. Or have you forgot?” He winked at Tasha and rubbed her thigh. “So I'm already getting my cut,” he stated frankly, giving her one hard smack on the leg and then turning his chair away to let her know that he was not interested.
As far as Troy was concerned, Tasha hadn't brought any better deal to the table than he was already getting. In addition to free pussy from the Manolo Mamis, Manolo threw him money on the side. A bird in the hand was worth two in the bush, he thought.
“Believe me, that little cash Manolo throwing you ain't got shit on what's sitting inside that safe. I figure we could split the take fifty-fifty. That's twenty-five stacks . . . not to mention the potential profit from the bricks. That's two years' salary for you,” Tasha stated, hoping she could convince Troy to see things her way. Otherwise, she'd have to walk out of his office with the risk of him ratting her out to Manolo. She knew would that would result in.
“Why would you be telling me this? Manolo's pimpin' your pretty ass. No offense, but you Manolo's bitch. What do you have to gain?”
Tasha thought long and hard. She thought about how she first met Manolo. She was new in town and he had put her on to a hustle. That she couldn't deny. But that was before he was hard in the pimping game, when he was just about getting money by any means necessary, not really finessing his business skills in the pimping game. And she had been strong enough to deal with everything that came with the life. Some of the girls he had turned out in the later years, however, had been too weak to survive the game.
Halleigh's face popped into her mind. She knew that Halleigh was one of the weakest, and that it was only a matter of time before she was found dead somewhere. The way Tasha saw it, she already had enough blood on her hands; there wasn't room for more.
“My freedom is what I have to gain,” Tasha finally replied. She stood from her chair and walked over to lock Troy's office door. He watched her every move. She closed the blinds and walked behind his desk.
Troy turned his chair to face her, and she lifted one knee to open his legs wide. Her hands massaged the bulge that was growing in his groin.
“I'm chasing my freedom, Troy, and I'll do anything to get it,” she whispered in his ear.
“Anything?” he whispered back, and the lust made his voice seem deeper.
“Any . . . thing,” she replied.
He slipped a finger between her legs and smiled when he noticed that she wasn't wearing any panties. He had to admit, Tasha was a woman determined to get what she wanted.
Tasha's beauty had always enabled her to hustle men, and he was merely another victim on her long list of those conquered. Troy stood up and bent Tasha over his desk. Her voluptuous ass was calling for him, and he grinded against it as he undid his belt buckle.
Tasha played in her pussy, opening herself up for Troy and massaging her clitoris. She pulled a condom out of her bra and slid it to him. Troy was working with a good nine inches. He rubbed his bare thickness against her vaginal walls before slipping the condom on. He wanted to get just a touch of her rawness. After putting on the condom, Troy played with Tasha's womanhood with the tip of his penis.
Tasha was hot, and licked on her own nipples as she anticipated Troy entering her. He slid into her with ease and pumped her so hard that he caused her to crash against the desk. Items flew to the floor as she bucked against him and contracted her pussy on his shaft. He gripped her ass and opened and closed her cheeks as he rocked in and out of her. The sight of her slim waist, round behind, and the sound of her titties bouncing only excited him more. He began to moan in delight.
Tasha had to give it up to Troy; the nigga was fucking her right. If she had known that he was getting down like that, she might given his ass some pussy the last time they connected at the strip club. Instead, Troy had left the club with Tasha's pussy juice on his face only. But at the time, that had been enough to make her feel disgusted by what she'd had to do. Prior to that night, Tasha had taken on her role as madam and stopped participating in any sexual acts with anybody except for Manolo. So even though she was the one who ended up getting her rocks off with Troy's tongue action that night, a trick was a trick as far as she was concerned.
But now, she was actually enjoying herself. Tasha closed her eyes and bit her lip when Troy reached around and pinched her nipples. It turned her on, and before she knew it, she too was trying to silence her moans.
“Damn, this pussy so good,” he whispered as his hips moved in circles, causing him to go even deeper inside of her. They were so loud that they had attracted a crowd outside of Troy's office.
Someone knocked loudly, but Troy ignored it. He pulled out of Tasha, turned her toward him and picked her up. He put his stiff dick inside her again. He pumped in and out of her while holding her in mid-air.

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