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Desdemona looked across the space to the front door before closing in to check the peephole before opening it. “Hey, KeKe,” she said to the petite woman with the fuchsia weave she wore down her back long and straight. It matched the Baby Phat jumpsuit she wore with gold heels.
“Where Jig?” she asked, before setting off a string of pops of her bubble gum.
“In his room,” Desdemona said as she dropped onto the black leather sofa and used the remote to turn on the fifty-two-inch plasma television mounted on the wall.
KeKe sat on the other end of the couch, opening her Guess purse to pull out a prerolled blunt and a lighter. “You in?” she asked as she lit it.
Desdemona had enough battles she was fighting without taking on addiction of any kind.
She just shook her head and continued flipping through the channels.
“I need to talk to Jig,” KeKe said before releasing a stream of smoke.
“He’s in there . . . if you want to wake him up.”
KeKe looked at her like she had three heads. “Last time I did I wound up with a bruised rib and bust lip. So that’s ano.”
Humph. Been there. Learned that painful lesson.
“What you need?” Desdemona asked.
“I want to get at some bigger fish,” KeKe said, rubbing her fingers together and causing her long acrylic nails to hit against each other. “More money.”
Desdemona eyed her. Over the years Majig had grown his ring from streetwalkers to call girls and escorts. He didn’t take lightly shifting a girl up to the next level. “You think you’re ready?” she asked.
“Hell, yeah,” KeKe said with enthusiasm. “I know my pockets are.”
They shared a laugh.
KeKe had been tricking for Majig for two years and usually worked Desdemona’s old stomping ground between the liquor store and the Chinese restaurant. Her money was consistent. Never late. Weed was her strongest vice, and she was funny.
“I’ll tell you what,” she said, following her gut. “There’s a party tonight at that strip club on Vine.”
“I know the place.”
“Good. Go there. Look for a dude named Gary. Tell him Majig sent you, put in that work for free, and let’s see what he thinks of you.”
KeKe took a deep inhale before she released the smoke and looked at her through squinted eyes. “Damn. You running shit up and through here now?” she asked.
“Definitely not. I just help him out here and there when he’s busy, but this is Majig’s ship. I just crew. You know?”
Busy meant high. What started out as something he did to help party and relax had become more of a problem lately.
KeKe looked skeptical. “Right,” she said, sounding unsure.
She was right to feel that way.
The last five months Majig had taught her the ins and out of running his prostitution ring. She took to it like a fish to water, even making changes that further protected Majig, increased his income, and weeded out bad call girls and clients. With each day he was releasing more and more of the control as the drugs gained the power over him.
“You in?” Desdemona asked.
“I’m in,” KeKe said, releasing another thick stream of silver smoke before she pulled out a bankroll to toss into Desdemona’s lap before she stood, retreated to the front door, and left.
Desdemona twisted the money in her hand as she rose and walked down the long hall to toss the money inside a glass bowl on a small table outside his door. By the end of the day, it would triple.
Desdemona was walking back up the hall when she heard a crash. She stopped and turned in alarm. Her eyes were on the door. Knocking on it when he was in the wrong mood could lead to hits and kicks that would leave her in pain and bruised—if not worse. There were times she wondered if he would kill her during one of his tirades. She literally scratched her scalp as she debated checking on him before she turned and took a few steps.
What if he needs my help and blames me because I didn’t?
