Dirty Work Part 1 Read online

  Devon and Papa John were still at the bar. Papa John was flirting with a woman with red hair and a black dress. Being a playboy, he couldn’t keep his dick in his pants for one night.

  Kip frowned at Papa John. He marched their way and immediately had Papa John dismiss the bitch. “Focus, nigga,” he reminded them.

  Papa John smiled. “I already got her number anyway.”

  The ballers in the club were blowing through money and consuming expensive champagne like bottled water during a heat wave. Lines of groupies and whores were a mile long inside the nightclub. Eager to snatch up a baller or athlete, all the girls came in their best dresses and with their best game.

  The inside of Kip’s palm began to itch while he studied Jason. He watched as the man looked down on people, even bullied those around him. He had a smug attitude, and Kip disliked him more and more as the night wore on. He couldn’t wait to rob that arrogant muthafucka and get himself a nice piece of his million-dollar contract.

  Three

  The gypsy cab came to a stop in front of Club Revolt. Traffic was a nightmare, and the sidewalk was swamped with people. Eshon looked at the chaotic scene outside of the club and took a deep breath. Kip was depending on her tonight, and she wasn’t going to let him down. She was with Jessica and Brandy. Eshon paid the driver his forty-dollar fee, and all three girls climbed out of the backseat and strutted toward the club. There was a line and a list. Eshon stood erect in her silver high heels looking fabulous in a purple Jason Wu dress with the neckline that plunged to just below her belly button. The dress left folks in awe, but Eshon had the body to pull it off.

  Eshon had her ways despite the line outside and the list in the bouncer’s hands. Flanked by Jessica and Brandy, she was confident they would all get inside.

  “Damn, your boo was right,” Jessica said. “It is sick out here.”

  Jessica was a stunning twenty-two-year-old Hispanic mamacita with long legs and more curves than the letter S. She had long, black hair, light hazel eyes that lit up, and long eyelashes. She wore a body-hugging Bebe dress with spaghetti straps and a plunging neckline.

  Jessica had come from L.A., where her family showed loyalty to the Latin Kings. She always felt she had something to prove. No stranger to tragedy, her father, her uncles, and her brothers had all been killed in L.A., either through gang violence or by the police. The deaths started to take a toll on her and her mother.

  Then there was the confrontation with the Mexican Mafia and the threats against her family. So her mother decided to move what family they had left in L.A. to Harlem, where it was supposed to be a whole new start inside their small two-bedroom apartment on West 134th Street.

  Brandy was a twenty-two-year-old wildcat with dark skin, a blonde weave, and hazel contacts, which irritated her eyes. The only reason she wore the contacts and the blonde wig was to keep up with Jessica and Eshon. Though she was a beauty too, Brandy always felt like the runt of the group. She couldn’t sing like Eshon, and she wasn’t light-skinned with real hazel eyes and long hair like Jessica. They would always catch the attention of men first, and then she came last. Brandy had always been insecure about her complexion and was envious of both her friends. Sometimes she would spew hate, but Jessica and Eshon didn’t take it seriously. Brandy was still their bitch, a friend to them, and though she was a hater, they loved her anyway.

  Brandy strutted behind her friends wearing the raunchiest outfit of the three—a sheer mini dress with a halter neckline. Twenty-one inches in length, the dress exposed the gold rhinestone G-string she wore underneath. She moved her perfect body seductively in her stilettos as she followed Eshon’s lead.

  Eshon walked toward the main bouncer at the door. He looked at her, and she looked at him. It was about an hour’s wait to enter the club, and with the club’s capacity reaching its limit very soon, the wait was looking even longer. But Eshon didn’t do lines.

  Jessica and Brandy stood on the sidelines and watched Eshon do her thing. The bouncer was hypnotized by her confidence and beauty. They didn’t have any doubt that she would get them inside without having to wait; she always got them in. She always knew what to say or do to get her way.

  Eshon started to converse with the tall, black, mean-looking hunk of beef. The other bitches standing on line looked at Eshon with questionable stares; they didn’t believe she had what it took to persuade him. But they were wrong. It only took a minute until he started to waver. Then he smiled and shook his head. Eshon passed him something. The exchange was quick, and before they knew it, she was waving her girls to come inside. Jessica and Brandy strutted toward the entrance as the bouncer unhooked the velvet rope, allowing the ladies to slide right through and leave the other patrons waiting on line. Eshon moved through the crowd like she was a boss bitch, her friends right behind her.

  Club Revolt was the place to be tonight. The renowned DJ was an expert at getting the party hyped with his mixes. The music was thunderously loud and on point with “Diced Pineapples” by Rick Ross and Meek Mill as bodies gyrated on the dance floor. And there was so much money in the place.

  The girls found Kip, Devon, and Papa John by the bar. Eshon smiled at Kip then threw her arms around him and kissed his lips.

  Kip allowed the public display of affection. They all had a part to play tonight, and with the girls around they would look less suspicious. Eshon, however, was loving every moment of it, taking full advantage of the time she got to spend with Kip, who looked good and smelled great.

  Papa John had had his eyes on Jessica for a long time, but he knew how Kid felt about her. But she was tempting tonight, with legs and cleavage showing.

  “So where are they?” Eshon asked.

  “Jason Miller, across the room, and to my right, the two ballers seated in VIP,” Kip said, discreetly pointing out the two Hawks players surrounded by women.

  Eshon glanced their way. “They’re cute.”

  Kip snapped, “Fuck that cute shit!”

  “Aah, you jealous, baby?”

  “I want you to stay on point. The competition is fierce right now in their area,” he said, signifying the sexy, blonde-haired white girls the players were taking interest in.

  “You let me worry about the competition; we got this, boo.”

  “Then go do you,” he said seriously.

  “Give me another kiss first.”

  Kip looked reluctant, but he kissed her anyway. She and her girls were needed tonight, so he did whatever it took to keep her happy.

  Eshon gave her girls the signal. It was time to put in work tonight and flaunt their sex appeal and their bodies. Yes, Kip was pimping them out, but it was worth it. The bigger the score, the larger their percentage.

  They migrated toward the NBA players that were surrounded by beauties. The girls pushed their way through the crowd and made it closer to VIP. Two bouncers stood guard near the players, and there was a bevy of girls that wanted a piece of the pie.

  Eshon knew it was going to take more than beauty and a tight, short dress to get close to the players. She locked eyes with the bouncer that separated her and her crew from payday. He stood in the club dressed in black and looking like a skyscraper.

  Eshon boldly strutted his way and demanded his attention. He leaned into her while Jessica and Brandy watched and waited. Whatever Eshon was saying to him, it seemed to be working. His stretched frown leisurely transitioned into a smile, and she slyly slipped him three hundred dollars. He took the money and moved to the side, allowing the girls to pass through.

  Immediately, the girls had hate on them like President Obama at a Republican Convention. Once in the area, Jessica immediately caught the attention of one of the players. With her Spanish roots, long black hair, light eyes, and cleavage showing like a sneak peek, she was the showstopper. She worked her way toward him, and the hate around her was glowing brighter. She succeeded in capturing his attention. He was riveted by her just that quickly. She introduced herself and took a seat on his lap.

&
nbsp; One down, two to go.

  Eshon made her way toward Hawks power forward, Kennan Thompson. His jewelry was blinding, and his physique was impressive. He had twin blonde snowflakes against him, one on his lap and the other to his right, and everybody was all touchy-feely. It looked like a sure thing for him tonight. Eshon knew she had her hands full with the twin white girls that each had a body like Pamela Anderson in her prime. Kennan looked like he wasn’t ready to let them go anytime soon.

  Eshon had to rethink her strategy. Jessica already had the small forward, Mike Blackmon, eating out of her hands. Now there was Jason Miller to worry about. She and Brandy headed Jason’s way. He was accompanied by a voluptuous white girl with brunette hair. Her dress was so short, her pussy was showing.

  Eshon frowned at the white bitch on Jason’s lap. These white girls were winning tonight, and the sisters in the club were looking left out. Now it wasn’t just about business, it was about her pride. She approached Jason Miller and exclaimed to the white girl, “Why you sitting on my man’s lap?”

  Both of them looked up at Eshon with bewilderment.

  “What?” the white girl sputtered. She turned and looked at Jason. “You know this bitch?”

  “Nah, I don’t know that bitch,” Jason replied.

  The brunette turned to face Eshon with a smug look and sharply said, “Step off, bitch!”

  “You need to get you some color in your life, Jason, and stop fuckin’ wit’ these white whores.”

  “Bitch, you don’t fuckin’ know me,” the white girl exclaimed.

  Jason glared at her and returned, “Yo, I don’t know you, and I don’t do black bitches—y’all fuckin’ drama—like you, bitch. So get the fuck away from me!”

  Eshon scowled. She wasn’t about to let him disrespect her, especially in front of his white tramp. She screamed, “Nigga, you better watch who you’re talking to like that! Nigga, you don’t fuckin’ know me!”

  Eshon’s plan was unraveling. Now it was personal. He was an asshole.

  Brandy stood beside her friend and was ready for war.

  Jason pushed the brunette off his lap and stood up abruptly. His face was stretched out into a heated scowl.

  Eshon was up in his face, ready to throw punches.

  They got into a heated argument.

  Kip stood in the distance watching it all fall apart. “Damn!”

  “You a clown-ass nigga! Wannabe Michael Jordan, no-ring-ass-having scrub!”

  Jason had heard enough. “Fuck you, bitch!” and suddenly, a drink was tossed into Eshon’s face.

  Eshon and Brandy went for blood. They attacked Jason with blows, and a fight ensued.

  Jason wasn’t afraid to hit back. He tossed Brandy to the floor effortlessly and kicked her while she was down.

  Eshon tried to break a champagne bottle over his head, but her attack was halted by security rushing to the fight and grabbing her from behind.

  “Get the fuck off me!” she screamed. “I’m gonna fuck him up!”

  Eshon was angry and wanted to see bloodshed. How dare he put his hands on her and Brandy? She didn’t care who he was, who he played for, or how much money he had, she wanted him fucked up.

  Security was roughly dragging her and Brandy out of the club, kicking and screaming. Their highs heels were scuffed, their weaves twisted, and their sexy outfits disheveled. Brandy even had a nipple showing.

  Kip frowned at the minor brawl between his ex and Jason Miller. He had to bite down hard on the inside of his lip to prevent himself from bum-rushing the Nets player. Jessica wanted to intervene and come to her friends’ aid, but she knew Kip would want her to stick with the program.

  After Eshon and Brandy were thrown out of the club, things calmed down, and the party continued. Eshon and Brandy called Kip and told him they were going to wait outside.

  Later on that night, Jessica finally left with her mark, his arm securely around her. He looked eager to get her into his bed for some fun.

  Kip nodded his head proudly. Jessica had worked her magic, and his plan was still going forward, despite the distraction earlier.

  The second Hawks player started to make his exit from the party with his groupies and his bodyguard.

  Kip wanted Devon and Papa John on him quickly. They knew what to do and knew how to handle their business. Stick-ups and robberies were nothing new to them.

  Papa John looked reluctant at first, saying, “You ain’t coming?”

  “Nah, I got plans for someone else,” Kip said.

  “Jason Miller?”

  “I’m on him.”

  “Alone? But how? We got the ride?”

  “I got my ways, my nigga. I want all three tonight. I repeat. . . I want all three tonight.”

  Papa John nodded. When Kip was determined to do something, no matter what obstacles were thrown in front of him, he always found some way to conquer them.

  Devon and Papa John left the club with the intent to rob Kennan Thompson.

  Kip watched Jason Miller like a hawk from a distance. He was determined to make him pay seriously for what he had done to Eshon and Brandy. The man was an asshole that needed to be taught a lesson. Now, it became personal for Kip. He was patient and he was poised, like a cobra ready to strike and spread its venom.

  Four

  Though separated, the crew kept in communication with each other via text message. Jessica cunningly hit Kip with a text saying that she was on her way to Mike Blackmon’s hotel room in the city. He was staying at the Gansevoort Hotel, a lavish place on Ninth Avenue in midtown.

  And, so far, Jessica had him eating out of the palm of her hands. Mike couldn’t control himself. His hands were all over her body while they rode in the backseat of a black Escalade. He couldn’t resist her L.A. accent, Spanish heritage, and stunning beauty.

  “Shit, I might fuck around and get you pregnant tonight because you so damn fine and sexy,” he joked, cupping her breast forcibly and kissing on her neck.

  He unzipped his jeans and pulled out his snake-looking penis, wanting a quick blowjob in the backseat. “C’mon, sexy, give me a sneak peek of what I’m gonna get from you tonight,” he said with a perverted smile.

  Jessica was nonchalant toward the comments. She didn’t cringe or become offended. She eyed his watch and his jewelry, and in due time, she was going to pick him clean. So she had to open her legs and let him fondle her pussy, grab her tits, kiss him passionately, suck his dick in the backseat. If push came to shove, she would have to fuck him too to get her way. So what? She was a big girl with an agenda.

  She leaned into his lap and wrapped her lips around his thick penis and bobbed her head up and down. He moaned and rested his head against the headrest, becoming utterly blissed out by her full lips and adept tongue.

  ***

  Devon and Papa John followed behind Kennan’s black-on-black Range Rover, their guns on their laps, loaded and ready for action. They remained two or three cars behind Keenan’s Range Rover, and where he went, they went—left turn, right turn—south on Eighth Avenue. It was early morning, so the city streets weren’t crowded with traffic, but it was still alive with people and businesses. The Big Apple never sleeps.

  Devon was keen on moving, but Papa John knew it was going to be difficult. They couldn’t go back to Kip empty-handed. Kennan was too much money to lose. They continued to follow the vehicle, trying to remain inconspicuous. The windows to the Range Rover were tinted, but they speculated only five were inside—Kennan and his groupies in the backseat, the bodyguard, and the driver.

  “We gonna have to smash and grab on this muthafucka,” Papa John said.

  Devon agreed. He loved violence. Impatient to see his payday, he didn’t see the robbery happening any other way.

  Finally, the Range Rover came to a stop in front of Brazil Grill, an all-night diner nestled between other open businesses on Eighth Avenue. The late-night hour meant the eatery was almost unoccupied, but there were a few customers inside. The Range Rover parked, and
the doors opened. All five occupants climbed out and stepped onto the street. Kennan Thompson looked like a movie star with his darks shades, expensive gear, and blinding bling. He had his arms around both his blonde-haired groupies and was ready to get his eat on.

  Kennan’s bodyguard soon spotted Papa John walking their way, dressed in a dark hoodie with his head lowered toward the ground, his hands in the front pockets of his hoodie. Kennan noticed Papa John too, but he was sure that his six-foot-three bodyguard had everything under control. He didn’t think anybody would be stupid enough to try to rob him on a busy city block.

  Papa John stayed focused. He walked toward the group undaunted. He quickly locked his eyes on the group and shouted, “Is that Kennan Thompson in New York?”

  “Yo, my man, he’s busy right now if you’re looking for a selfie,” the bodyguard said.

  Papa John dismissed the comment and looked at the man like he was stupid. “Fuck a picture—I’m here to collect his city tax.”

  “City tax?” the bodyguard repeated with bewilderment.

  “Yeah, city tax, nigga!” Papa John swiftly pulled a .45 from his hoodie pocket and thrust it into the bodyguard’s face.

  The group was suddenly taken aback and in awe. One groupie with Kennan attempted to scream, but Papa John warned her to shut the fuck up.

  While they were distracted by Papa John, Devon came from behind the group and struck the bodyguard in the head repeatedly with his gun. The large man fell to his knees, hurt badly.

  “You know what this is, nigga—Run ya shit, muthafucka!” Papa John ordered, pointing the barrel of his gun at him, while Devon held the bodyguard at bay.

  The driver was a coward, and the bitches were useless. They didn’t want to die. So Kennan found himself a victim of a stick-up.

  Devon snatched the platinum chains off his neck and forcibly removed his rings and his expensive watch. Devon was burning to implement more violence upon the basketball player, but Papa John kept things cool and kept him under control.