Dirty Work: Part 1

“Dana always had a thing for you. She was fine, yo. You ain’t hit that?”

“Nah, yo,” Kip said indifferently.

“Nigga, you should have fucked her. I know if she was throwing the pussy at me, I wouldn’t even hesitate. That bitch had the phattest ass and big tits too. I know that pussy had to be good. You know it had to be good, she got some cornball nigga to put three kids in—”

“Just shut the fuck up, Papa John!”

“I was just talkin’, nigga. Damn!”

“Don’t. I ain’t in the mood right now.”

Papa John sulked and stared out the window. Kip seemed to be in one of his foul moods—bipolar with a capital B. Papa John lit a cigarette. He wanted Devon to hurry outside. Kip was being an asshole. He needed a third party in the car with him.

Moments later, the front door opened, and Devon walked out dressed in a dark hoodie pulled over his face. He was ominous-looking with a heavy frown. He hurried toward Kip’s minivan armed with a couple pistols and climbed into the backseat. He gave both men dap and tried to relax, but it was hard for him, knowing he’d committed murder just a few days earlier and the police—and most likely, Brooklyn niggas—were on the hunt for him.

“What’s the four-one-one, my nigga?” he asked Kip.

“Still the same shit,” Kip told him. “Hot in Harlem like fish grease.”

“Yo, I had to do that nigga, man. His mouth was too fuckin’ reckless, and you know Kid is like a brother to me too,” Devon said with emotion.

“Just chill. I don’t feel like talkin’ about that right now, or ever. Forget about that shit and let’s focus on this job,” Kip commanded. “You understand?”

Devon nodded, fully understanding. It was never wise to talk or bring up past murders. What was done was done.

Before Kip pulled away from the house, he glanced at Dana standing in the doorway holding her eighteen-month-old child. She had gained weight and changed her life around. Before Eshon, there was Dana. Though they never had sex and she was a bit older than him, they had feelings for each other. But they both felt that it wasn’t meant to be. He went left, and she went right. She wanted a family; he wanted the streets. She chose Queens over Harlem and a relationship with a mechanic over a thug. It had been years since they’d seen each other. Seeing her again, Kip felt something for her, but that ship had sailed.

Devon tapped his shoulder. “You and my cousin would have been good together.”

“I ain’t thinkin’ ’bout your cousin. I’m thinking ’bout this job, nigga. Y’all niggas need to focus. Remember who we goin’ after.”

Devon nodded.

Papa John stayed quiet. He didn’t feel like hearing Kip’s mouth.

They headed to a strip club in the Bronx called The Hot Spot, a shady place where the ladies did anything for the right price. Papa John and Devon followed behind Kip, walking into the badly lit strip club with blaring rap music and over a dozen half-naked hoes walking about. The place had lap dances, wall dances, and several back rooms where sexual favors were performed for cash. The stage was occupied by two butt-naked dancers in stilettos swinging their bodies around the pole and contorting their nakedness on stage in front of many lustful men.

It was a pervert’s paradise, and where Big Sean liked to be.

Although they were there for business, Devon and Papa John couldn’t take their eyes off the lovely and thick ladies everywhere.

Kip had to remind them that they weren’t there to have a good time. They were searching for Big Sean. Kip was determined to find him. The men moved through the crowd like enforcers, and though they weren’t armed with guns, since security searched everyone for any weapons before entering, they had a plan to lure him out of the club.

For an hour they searched for Big Sean and waited for him to show up, but there was no sign of him. Devon and Papa John wanted to make the best of their night, since their plan to murder had been put on hold.

But Kip wasn’t in any mood for a strip club. “We out,” he announced.

“Y’all niggas go ’head. I’m staying,” Devon said.

Kip looked at him. “What?”

“Nigga, he ain’t here, and lookin’ at all this pussy in the room, I’m ready to fuck something tonight. I’m good. I’ll catch a cab back to Queens.”

“A’ight, be safe, my nigga.” Kip gave Devon dap and a manly hug.

“One, my nigga.” Papa John gave Devon the same dap and manly hug. He decided to leave with Kip. He didn’t like paying for pussy when he always got it for free.

The two men left the club, leaving Devon behind to indulge himself in a sea of pussy. He had a pocket full of money, and he planned on spending it on pleasure. He had a lot on his mind and wanted to escape by busting a nut, squeezing some tits, and smacking some ass cheeks.