The Clique, page 12
“I’m not trying to buy something that already belongs to me. Get the money, girl.”
Pepper grabbed the money out of the bartender’s hand, leaving him with an extra four hundred dollar tip. “I guess it’s both our lucky day.”
The bartender smiled at Pepper and nodded his head in agreement.
Ascada saw everything that went down and made a quick call back to Mo and let her know that everything was under control.
“Go get ya girls and meet me at the Hilton. It’s right down the street on the left hand side.”
“I don’t think—”
“I didn’t ask you to. Just meet me at the Hilton in thirty minutes.” He pinched her chin like he used to when they were dating. That was his special way of saying I love you.
CHAPTER 39
Philadelphia was freezing cold, and there was a light misty rain. But Royal and Brooke still put on their Jackie Onassis, big-eyed shades, pointy-toed stiletto boots, and their short, black minks.
Spencer instructed them to step like “professional Clydesdales” in the latest fashions and hottest attitudes, and the female connect would find them.
Philly ran Philadelphia. That’s how she got her name. She was drop-dead gorgeous, a full head of perfect, fluffy, sand-brown hair that was cut to swing right under her chin. Her chinky eyes were like roasted, toasted almonds, while her thin lips housed a perfect porcelain white smile. Her size eight waist could barely keep up with her full hips and bottom. She was the perfect woman, except for the fact that she was hard as the toughest nigga in the dope game.
Philly was a rude, cutthroat female. She’d slice a bitch’s face, shoot a nigga in the head, and leave them stanking on their loved one’s doorstep. But she had one weakness: hot fish. When she was occupied with a beautiful, sassy, smart woman who let her take control, she’d lose her business sense.
Royal and Brooke worked the city for two days without a word or signal. At the end of the third day, while they were at the mall in the Coach store, the salesgirl walked over to them with an offer. “Excuse me, ladies, an admirer has left a twenty-five-hundred-dollar shopping pass for each of you.” The petite white lady with a floppy bun on her head smiled at the thought of her commission.
“Bingo!” Royal smiled.
Brooke, knowing that Philly was somewhere watching, leaned over and grabbed Royal’s ass, pulling her close, kissing her deeply and passionately.
Royal tried to protest, but Brooke held on to her head for dear life.
Philly stood at the top of the escalator watching the women that stirred up conversation all over Philadelphia, her workers blowing up her phone as soon as the girls hit town. But, first, she had to scope them out and make sure they weren’t the po-po. “Two for the price of one,” she said to herself. She rubbed her pussy through the painted-on Michael Kors jeans.
People passing by gawked at Philly as she openly masturbated.
An older white woman that looked like she’d just jumped out a pot of grease said loudly into Philly’s ear, “Go get a room. You should be arrested. How disgustingly sick you are.”
“Bitch, you wish someone would touch that funky pussy of yours.”
As the woman got on the escalator mean-mugging her, Philly shouted out, “Watch your step,” and pushed the lady down the escalator.
To passers-by it looked as if Philly was trying to catch the lady before she fell.
As the white woman screamed out, Brooke and Royal spotted Philly coming down the escalator with a smug look on her face.
“Someone come and help this big bitch get off the floor,” Philly yelled, to bring embarrassment to the woman. She spat on the lady as she stepped over her.
Brooke’s panties instantly got wet from the power Philly exuded.
Philly snapped her fingers, and two salesgirls came to her. They knew her money well. She dropped at least two thousand every other week. “So, have you ladies picked out some fly shit yet?”
“Yes, Miss P,” one of the younger salesgirls responded.
“Wine and cinnamon biscottis for these fine ladies.”
The other young saleswoman removed Philly’s boots and began to massage her feet before retrieving the latest stock for her to try on.
Brooke was very attracted to Philly, and the feeling was mutual, but Philly was smitten with Royal. Her smooth, dark skin and glass-gray eyes made Philly’s pussy thump. She wanted to eat that fat ass right there on the spot.
Brooke took advantage of the moment and slid her hand between Royal’s legs because she knew at this critical point, in front of Philly, she wouldn’t and couldn’t reject her.
Royal wanted to slap the shit out of Brooke, but something inside of her awoke at the sight of Philly and her rough, harsh attitude. She knew she wasn’t gay, because she still couldn’t eat coochie, but her freaky side was definitely awakened by this sexy woman.
After going on a mini shopping spree, spending eight thousand dollars of Philly’s money, Philly took them to dinner at Mocha’s, a five-star restaurant that served pricey entrées.
“So what brought you guys to Philly?” She was talking about herself more than the city.
They both started and stopped at the same time. “We—”
“Business venture,” Royal told her.
“What kind?” Philly inquired, trying to see what kind of help she could give Royal, to let her know she had her back in more ways than one.
“A boutique or two. Maybe a strip club.”
As Philly finished her favorite meal, spaghetti and meatballs, she raised her eyebrow. “Strip club? My kinda business. Can you dance?” She pointed her fork at Royal, making sure Brooke didn’t speak.
“Definitely.”
“I would love to see how that big juicy ass move.” She flicked her tongue at Royal.
Royal smiled and flirted at the idea, while Brooke twisted uncomfortably in her chair, clearing her throat to let them both know that they were going too far.
“Have you gotten any investors yet?” Philly asked, reeling her big fish in.
“No.” Royal shook her head, faking disappointment, as she played in her salad.
“Well, I like it like that anyway. Only one to share with.” She looked Brooke dead in the eyes. “How much do you want?”
“We need—”
“Want.”
Philly’s pretty smile made Royal blush, but made Brooke cringe with fear of losing Royal. “Excuse me?” Royal asked, confused.
“If you with me all your needs are met every day of your life. All I need to know is your wants.”
Royal scooted her chair close as Brooke’s arm hung on to it. “And what do I have to do to get all of this?”
Philly wiped her mouth with her napkin and spoke soft and sensual. “Let me eat that thang at will and guide you into the life of luxury and lust.”
Royal snatched her chair from Brooke and moved it right up to Philly’s chair. She leaned in, sliding her hand between Philly’s thighs. “You can slide that pretty tongue of yours across my wet clit anytime your heart desires.”
Brooke jumped up from the table and slammed down her drink. “I’m not going along with this shit anymore. I’ll be waiting at the hotel to leave.”
At this point, Royal wanted Philly to herself. Having a beautiful, soft, powerful woman suck on her clit was an added bonus to the money.
CHAPTER 40
The cold, beautiful snow slowly trickled down onto Mo and Emil’s faces. They’d never seen so much snow before in their life, living in the Dirty South. They played around like kids, throwing snowballs at each other, laying down in the deep snow and making snow angels.
For a few hours they were free of the heavy burdens of the girls, Spencer, Gabby, bills, and Denver, the rich, white boy they were there to rob.
Denver was a rich, arrogant white boy. Raised in Africa, he came from old, long money, but had short patience and compulsive habits that exposed him as an easy target.
He owned ski resorts and restaurants to wash up his dope money. Dutch Ice was his number one resort, as well as his home. He built his eleven-thousand-square-foot home on top of his biggest money maker.
It’d been four days since Mo and Emil left the girls in Columbus, Georgia, and they were already in. They pulled him in on the first day they were playing in the snow. He was attracted to any woman that wasn’t Caucasian. But he loved the browner sugar.
Denver greeted Emil as she exited the elevator to his home. “Emil, you look like something out of my dreams.”
Emil was speechless at the sight of his grand home. The floors were glass with stripes of what looked like snow. At the push of a button, for complete privacy, he could frost the entire floor. She took her seat at his round dinner table. “You look nice also.”
Emil wanted to hurry up and get it over with. Sleeping with someone you know and like is one thang, but sleeping with a man that you’re not attracted to is a mutha. Denver’s teeth looked like he hadn’t brushed them since he got them. His skin was oily, his hair was greasy, and the dingy, tattered clothes he wore reeked of musk and animal scent.
She smiled and played her part. Giggling and playing an airhead, she got him to open up and tell all his secrets about his money and jewels. He was so gone on Emil’s charm that he even told her where he hid the money and jewels in his home.
After a long, six-course meal, Emil was now the dessert. He led her to a red, exotic room filled with leopard and zebra print rugs, curtains, and bedspread. Expensive vases and African artifacts lined the dressers and walls. Denver left her alone and went to the bathroom.
Emil ran her fingertips along the edge of the large elephant tusk. She touched the fur of the African drum.
“Rahhhhhh!” Denver jumped out of a secret passage in the wall, holding something balled up in his hand. “Uh uh uh.” He cupped her hand into his with a little pressure. “These things are too expensive for touching.”
Oh Lord, he gon’ kill me. He gon’ cut my ass up and put me on the wall next to the buffalo butt. Is that sweat on his forehead? Is he deranged? Mo better get her ass up here and save me from this paranoid schizophrenic.
But when she thought about all the money she was about to get and being able to see her daughter, Denver began to look like Robin Thicke, the white R&B singer.
“Put this on.” Denver held out a cheetah print, crotch-less, one-piece thong with the nipples cut out.
This muthafucka is a true redneck, white boy with chocolate dreams. Just think about Kaylen, Emil. Think Kaylen. “Umm, baby, can we have some wine?” She kissed him passionately on his thin, pale lips so that he would get the drink ASAP.
He stood motionless, kissing the air well after she’d stepped away. “You are so damn sweet.” He pushed a button on the huge, square remote control, and one of the walls spun around to reveal a large round stage complete with pole, mirrors, disco ball, and a long mink coat.
What the fuck is all this? This crazy fool is gon’ turn me into a monkey for real. I told Mo he looked like one of those deranged suckas you see on America’s Most Wanted that liked to fuck animals and shit.
He popped her on the ass. “Get on up there and show me what you working wit’.”
Emil thought she was going to be sick. His yellow stained teeth seemed to be glowing as the disco ball spun around. “That big drink please.”
“Nurse mine until I come back.”
This was going to be easier than she thought. Her overnight bag was already in the room, sitting on a chair next to the outfit he’d bought her. She rushed over to it and then stopped in her tracks. Her heart was beating fast. What if he got surveillance? She turned her head like the exorcist, looking in every direction, and every corner of the room. Okay, Emil, take long, steady, slow, deep breaths. Not now, don’t start now. She closed her eyes, put her hand on her chest, and thought about Kaylen.
Emil had been dealing with anxiety attacks since Walsh, but she pretty much had them under control, until she found herself in tight situations. She slowly reached in her bag and grabbed the small film. She then took a sip of his drink and, at the same time, slid the almost invisible film into the drink.
Royal was the mastermind behind the small, clear films. She’d learned about them in pre-med chemistry lab. They were a mixture of truth serum, ecstasy, date rape drug, and memory eraser. She also put it into liquid form, to be given as a shot.
The truth serum and ecstasy lasted an hour and then the HB kicked in for at least six. And the memory eraser was uncertain. It could erase from two days before, the actual day of the event, or nothing at all. She was pulling up her last strap when Denver returned with a glassy, dazed stare on his face.
He was beating on his chest and yelling, “Ahhhhhhh. Me Tarzan, you Jane.” He handed Emil the orange juice and vodka, took his drink back, and gulped it down.
She sat her drink down, not wanting to drink anything she couldn’t see him pour, and nervously walked to the stage and began to move around. As she dipped down to the ground and gyrated her hips, he pulled out his extra, extra long and wide speckled dick and began to stroke it.
This shit is not happening. This asshole better fall out quick ’cause that freckled pecker ain’t sliding up in me.
As Emil bent over to show him the hole in her crotch, he said, “Open that fat black ass up and let me see that pink bunny rabbit.”
She did as he asked. “How much would you pay for this pussy, baby?”
“All the money in that safe.” He pointed to the adjacent wall with all the African artifacts on it.
Yep, he’s gone. Time to go to work.
As he masturbated like she wasn’t in the room, she retrieved her cell phone and text messaged Mo to come to the room. Denver had slipped when he allowed Mo to sleep in one of his guestrooms.
Emil sat on his lap, spat into the palm of her hand, and began to rapidly stroke his enormous penis.
“Ooooh yeah, that’s why I love you black bitches. You know how to please a man.”
“You white pecker wood. What’s the combination to that safe?”
“Talk dirty to me, bitch. I love it like that.” He began to slobber.
“Combination, prick.”
Unaware of what was going down, he was in hog heaven. “Thirty-eight, twenty-eight, forty-two, the measurements of what I like sitting on my dick.”
“How much is in it?”
“Get on yo’ knees and suck my dick ’til you bleed it dry, ho.” He was coming up out of his seat with excitement.
“Hold on, daddy. Let this pussy marinate first.” Come on, Mo. Damn! This horny fool gon’ try to bust me wide open if you don’t come on.
He unexpectedly and quickly flipped Emil into the chair, got on his knees, pushed her ass to the top of the chair, and spread her legs. Before she could protest, his thick tongue was lapping her middle.
Damn! What they say about white boys is definitely true. Even though I’m gon’ have to pop a Diflucan when I get home because of that caked-up bacteria on his filthy yellow teeth, Mama is going to enjoy this.
He ate Emil’s pussy like it was the last of his favorite dish. Letting the feeling take over, and forgetting who was between her legs, she grabbed his greasy, moussed hair and pushed his face deeper. “Mmmm, hell yeah! Swallow them juices.” She held herself steady as Denver went crazy, almost pushing her over the chair.
“Is your dope in the safe too?”
He lifted his wet face and looked at her spacy for a second.
Oh shit! Has this crazy fool overrode the power of the film?
“Down there.” He pointed to the floor.
Emil looked all around the floor but saw only glass. “Down where, baby?” she asked, confused.
“Jus’ let me eat this sweet pie.”
She caught his face in her hand. “Tell mama where and I’ll turn around and let you have some chocolate cake.
Denver pointed to the snow-looking stripe in the glass floor.
Emil stared at the floor, putting her hand under chin. Then her eyes lit up. You smart sucka you. Genius! “How do I open them?”
“Just stick your finger down the crest and lift up.” He whined like a child, “now give me my chocolate cake.”
Emil looked at the million-dollar floor, tears in her eyes. “My baby coming home.”
“Yeah, baby, I’ma make you cum.” He bent her over, slid the thong out of her ass, and dug his face in her chocolate cake.
This time she closed her eyes and enjoyed the ecstasy she was receiving from the tongue, and all the money.
Mo opened the door and watched in shock as Emil held her eyes closed, shook her ass, and came on Denver’s face. She placed her empty duffle bag on the floor, looked at her watch. It was going on two hours since Emil had been with Denver, and he still wasn’t knocked out. She snuck up behind him and shot a needle full of sleeping medicine in his neck, and he hit the floor with a hard thud.
They quickly pulled him into the bed just as his bodyguards opened the door.
“Is everything all right, D?” Mo was sitting on his chest facing toward the front pretending she was giving him head, as Emil sat on his face. Mo pushed his hand up in the air to signal everything was straight.
“Lucky bastard,” one of the guards said to the other.
Mo ran and locked the door. “So where is the dope?”
“In the floor.”
“In the floor?” Mo asked, her top lip turned up.
Emil bent down on her knees and pulled open one of the frosted stripes. The twelve-foot-long, six-inch-deep stripes were full to the brim with cocaine.
“Get a cup out of the bathroom and start putting it in the bags while I raid the safe,” Mo said to Emil.
They swept Denver out in less than twenty minutes. They set their timers and slept for four hours, for rest, and so that it wouldn’t look suspicious to the guards. They would be able to leave when the guards did a shift change. Mo shot Denver with one more dose of sleep medicine then dreamed about her reunion with her daughter.
CHAPTER 41
Something was definitely wrong on Thursday morning, before Christmas Day, as Mo, Emil, and Nevada sat at the Humphries law firm. They had been finished with their hits a week and a half ago. Royal and Brooke checked in and said they were wrapping up a hit, which should have already been finished. But neither Pepper nor Ascada was answering their cell phones, and when Mo called the hotel, they had already checked out. And, on top of all that, their lawyer was acting shady.
