Stud Princess, Notorious Vendettas Read online

  Illusion wiped away the solo tear that snuck down her cheek. She had come to terms with herself a long time ago, so there was no need to sit and feel sorry all over again. That chapter in her life was closed—forever. But there wasn’t a day that went by that Illusion didn’t dwell on her past and wish that things had turned out differently. Unfortunately for her, that was life. It was shitty like that, to some. There was no Magic Marker or Incredible Crayon that could erase all the shit she’d done and been through. Everyone couldn’t be a doctor, lawyer, or teacher. Somebody had to be the pimp, ho, drug dealer, and homeless man on the corner with a will-work-for-food sign. If not, the rich and famous, accomplished and privileged wouldn’t be so successful after all. Everyone would be common folk, average, and no better than the next.

  That’s exactly how Illusion had come to view life. But she knew she could do better than turning tricks for money—much better. Illusion wanted and needed that change, but until change came, she had to do what a money-maker had to do. Spin those tricks and get that money.

  She blinked back the tears threatening to fall from her eyes. The room was spinning. She recognized this. The X Fairy had come to visit and the bitch was working her magic spell. As it came down on her, Illusion surprisingly found herself crawling under the Italian sheets when normally she’d be horny as hell and ready to fuck the first thing with a hard dick. She could faintly hear her theme music in the background and she knew Ty was pulling in a double. As T-Pain remixed that he was in love with a stripper, Illusion visualized the men spanking Ty’s ass and yelling for her to take more clothes off, give them their money’s worth.

  Her eyelids gradually folded over the glossed whites of her eyes, then rose again. All she wanted was to dream—dream about the life she always wanted, the life she never had. She forced her eyes shut and everything turned black. A sense of calmness comforted her. Sleep was the closest thing to death and if death meant peace, then she’d pray to God that she would never wake up.

  2

  “ I know this bitch ain’t finally show her face after I done did all the damn work!” Ty huffed loudly, straining the vessels

  in her skinny neck. “Uh-uh. Hell naw. Fuck that! Take me to

  the house, Fletch, and leave this bitch here!” she ordered. “I ain’t

  playin’. This ho ain’t ridin’ with us.”

  “Ty, calm all that shit down, girl!” Fletch yelled. “I got this.”

  He turned to face Illusion. “What happened, ma?”

  Illusion rolled her eyes upward. “Shit, I fell asleep. Blacked

  out. Hell, I don’t know. And why didn’t your ass come back

  up and get me? Thought you were looking out?” she went off,

  mimicking his earlier remark. She felt a headache coming on. If

  it wasn’t for one of those drunk ass men trying to slip in the bed

  with her, she would probably still be asleep, dead to the world.

  When the old man told Illusion the party was over and that her

  friends were leaving, she jumped up, knocking him to the floor,

  and hauled ass to the elevator, catching up to Fletch and Ty as

  they were getting into the Hummer.

  “Remember, you the one told me to leave your ass alone,”

  Fletch hollered back, refreshing her memory. “I tried to tell you

  these people paid for a two-ho show tonight. Not one, but two,”

  he repeated, waving the peace sign in her face. “Besides, I was outside watching the door. Making sure y’all asses were safe,” he seethed.

  Illusion wasn’t buying that. “Yeah, sure you were. Your ass was probably down here jackin’ off,” she huffed. “Everybody know what you do in there with them windows rolled up,” she blasted. Her gold chandelier earrings dangled across her shoulders every time her head swayed from side to side. “You ain’t fooling no damn body. And so what? Y’all was just gonna leave me here?”

  “Come on now. You know good and well I was—” “You ain’t gotta explain shit to this bitch!” Ty shot, cutting Fletch off mid-sentence. “She knew what time it was when we got here. And now the bitch acting brand new all of a sudden,” she raved. Ty didn’t give a flying fuck that Illusion was standing right there in close enough range to hear every word she said. “Now she thinks she’s too good to work a call like this, leaving me in there all by my damned self.” Ty pumped her fists, then slammed the door. “Trifling bitch,” she spat, finding it hard as hell to believe that she got played.

  Illusion was reading Ty’s lips. “Bitch? I ain’t gon’ be too many more of your bitches, I’ll tell you that much! Ya lil young high-yella ass need to learn how to respect your fucking elders,” Illusion chastised, knowing she was probably only a few years older than Ty. “Better get your little Chocolate tie-a-shoe or tiea-whateva you want somebody to tie, lookin’ ass on somewhere.” Illusion combed through her hair with her fingertips then tucked her mane into a tight knot, just in case something popped off. After a minute or two, she pulled the back door handle, attempting to get in.

  Fletch instantly looked over at Ty. “Ty, quit playing. We ain’t got all fucking night for this shit. Unlock the damn door!” “Hell no! That bitch about to walk her ass to Midlothian. Hope them feet ready, bitch!” Ty sang. “Now sleep on that,” she laughed.

  “Ty, give me the keys,” Fletch said, holding his hand out to her.

  Ty rocked her head from side to side. With her lips poked out like a bird’s, her eyes open wide, and her short spiked hairdo, which was highlighted a royal blue and honey blonde, she looked just like the peacock the girls in the house jokingly called her. But she thought the style was tight and Chyna never said otherwise. She smacked her lips and popped her tongue. “Make that bitch walk some of the fat off her ass. Horse built skank. Hell, she ain’t running a damn thing over here,” she said as she gripped Fletch’s keys tighter and relaxed back in the seat, unfazed. She rolled up all the windows in Illusion’s face, bringing her yapping down to a minimum.

  Illusion tried the door again but it was still locked. Her high in less effect, she began hitting on the windows for them to let her in. She couldn’t see through the illegal tint, but she knew, without a doubt, that Ty was getting a kick out of everything. Her patience had already run thin, plus it was too damn cold to be standing there playing childish ass games. Illusion was wishing like hell that she hadn’t showed up to work the party tonight. Chyna knew better than pairing them up because Illusion didn’t want or need a sidekick. She was good on her own. So all the extra Chyna sent along with her was a bunch of B.S. The smell of rain brushed across Illusion’s nose. Recalling the weatherman’s forecast about cool temperatures and scattered showers, she became infuriated at the idea of getting her fresh hairdo wet. She shot Ty a murderous look through the glass. “Bitch, I’ma whoop your ass! Believe that. I betcha won’t jump your ass out the car!” Illusion challenged, pointing her long French-tipped nail at Ty. She held her hands in the air, calling Ty out. “Come on. Get ya ass out the car, ho!”

  Illusion’s angry expression and her cat-eyed look frightened Fletch. He thought he was watching a scene from the Exorcist as curse words flew like flaming darts from each of the women’s mouths.

  “Get out? Bitch, I don’t have to! I’m not the one who gon’ be walking. So get a head start. Trick ho!”

  Ty was pissed off and felt like she had every valid reason to be because Illusion had left her alone to strip, dance, and do whatever else she was asked to do for six stank-breath, wheezing old men. All six of them had begged for her to go down on them for a little something extra, and like a true money-making ho, she adhered to their every request. She sucked their wrinkled sac dicks without hesitation until each of them came, one by one, believing she’d prove to Chyna that she was a ride or die chick for the paper.

  “Ha, ha, ha. Come on, y’all, stop. It’s too late for all this shit,” Fletch finally admitted, lowering his driver’s side window some more so Illu
sion could see all of his face. Although he was tempted to video his own Ghetto Brawl cat fight and sell the DVDs for $10.00 a pop, he was tired and ready to get home to some pussy. Enough was enough. “My girl at home waiting on a nigga so y’all needs to chill the fuck out and kill that noise, mayne!” He looked down to check his cellular. Aggravated, he sighed loud and hard then pressed his head back against the headrest. “It’s almost one in the fuckin’ morning and y’all hos out here arguing over some dumb shit.” He turned his whole body back to his right. “Give me my damn keys, girl, before I make your skinny ass walk right along with her. That way both of y’all asses can shut the fuck up and raise up outta my ear with all dat!”

  Ty flinched and turned up her nose. His breath was kicking and he was starting to sound just like the both of them. “Fletch, if you let this bitch in this car, I promise you, I will push her ass out into moving traffic. Do … not … test … me,” she forewarned. She was getting madder by the minute.

  “All right, all right. Damn,” Fletch laughed, finally giving in to Ty. He slid his hands over his smooth, baby soft face—the only other admiring feature that women saw in him in addition to his made-to-suck-pussy-eating tongue and lips.

  “Yeah nigga, remember who sucks your dick without the payment plan,” Ty scoffed, referring to him not having to pay Chyna for the services he got on the side. Of course, he knew if Chyna ever caught wind of that shit, it’d be all over for him. That was like stealing food out of her kitchen.

  “Aww shut the hell up! That’s favor for favor,” he shot back. Fletch already didn’t like being manhandled and threatened by a woman, let alone being blackmailed and punked by another. If the money wasn’t right, he would have told Chyna to kiss his ass long ago. But it was, so there were never any complaints out of him. He was paid to stick around and play Lo Jack. Not only that, he used to move weight for her uncle back in the day, so he was like part of the family, the way he saw it.

  Just as Fletch was turning around to tell Illusion he would come back for her, she was already making her way around to the passenger side of the car where Ty had reclined the seat and gotten comfortable once again. Illusion unballed her right fist, letting the huge rock in her hand fly. Fletch saw the rock coming and ducked in record time. Illusion then took off her left shoe. Raising up quickly as shattered glass covered her lap, Ty’s face was immediately met with Illusion’s size nine and a half, six-inch heel, and a fist that showed no mercy. Illusion used the heel on her shoe as the weapon it was never imagined to be, and sliced and diced Ty’s face like she was discovering a new pumpkin-carving technique.

  “Ho, I told you I was gon’ get that ass. Ugh! Now what? Talk all that hot shit now.” Illusion swung wildly, every intended blow landing on Ty’s once flawless face. Not even the Mac makeup she wore would be able to disguise the damage from the ass beating she was receiving.

  Ty tried to fight back, but the seatbelt secured around her offered no advantage.

  Fletch hurriedly jumped out the car and ran to Ty’s rescue. His unzipped fly confirmed Illusion’s earlier accusations. “Illusion!” Illusion grabbed as much of Ty’s hair she could fist, then pounded her face nonstop, using her shoe as a backup punch that intensified every unsparing hit.

  “Stop it! You trippin’, girl.” Fletch managed to pull Illusion away from the car and snatch the shoe out of her hand. He threw it to the ground. “Man, stay yo’ ass right here! I’ll come back and get you!” he hollered, almost out of breath. “Y’all actin’ like some got damn five year olds!” He turned to face his ride, raising his hands over his head at the sight of it. “Shit! Why y’all always gotta bust out a nigga’s windows? Does my ride say ‘fuck a nigga shit up?’” he yelled.

  Without a mark or scratch, Illusion stepped back, allowing Ty space and opportunity to hop out of the vehicle and take her on for another round. This time, face-to-face, fist to fist. She made sure her bun was still tucked tightly in place. She knew females always went for the hair and she’d be damned if she let Ty get the best of her in any way. While her eyes remained on the passenger door, she tuned out Fletch’s ranting and bitching about breaking his window. Wasn’t like it was the first time a woman had bust out his car windows and it probably wouldn’t be the last. She looked him up and down as if she was sizing him up, then looked back down at the fragments of black glass that covered the curb and sidewalk.

  Ty was still strapped in her seat, screaming, “My face! Awww! Look what this bitch did to my face!” The unending blood that dripped onto her shirt scared her even more.

  “What I tell you? I told your ass not to fuck with me. Don’t let the good looks fool you,” Illusion boasted, feeling like Laila Ali.

  “Illusion! Keep yo’ ass right here,” Fletch pointed at the ground. “I ain’t playin’ with you either, girl. I’ll be back soon as I drop her off,” he said. He hopped back into the Hummer and sped off. Halfway down the road Illusion could hear Ty’s crybaby ass. She stepped back into her two hundred dollar designer shoe, wiggling it a little. Her heel was still intact and she could hardly believe it because she knew she had just whipped the shit out of Ty with it.

  She struggled with whether she should wait on Fletch, get a head start and walk, or just turn around and go the other way altogether. She was already sick of living in that house. All those women. All that drama. Making way less money than she walked in with, and dealing with way more madness than she signed up for. There wasn’t much to think about. Illusion made a few bad choices in life, but she was no dummy. She didn’t need Chyna to survive. Hell, survival came with a how-to kit and that kit was tucked tightly in between her legs.

  Illusion started for the opposite direction. The city slickers and street kittens were all out at play. Midnight had turned into one in the morning and for the scavengers, goons, and hustlers on the block, the day was just beginning.

  C

  3

  hyna had been trying to reach Sand for over an hour now, only for the calls to be redirected to the motel’s switchboard. She was getting more irritated by the minute. Before she could dial the number again, her phone lit up. It was Fantasy calling her from the house.

  “Chyna!”

  “Speak to me.”

  “Where are you? It’s Illusion!”

  Chyna listened closely to the background noise on the other

  end of her line. “What about her?”

  “She done beat this girl up! She bleeding everywhere. Her

  face, her lip is busted, and she gonna need stitches,” Fantasy

  rambled uncontrollably.

  “What? Beat who up?” Chyna snapped, as she proceeded

  slowly through the blinking traffic light. She turned on her

  windshield wipers and attempted to wipe away the falling rain

  that made everything before her a constant blur.

  “Ty.” Fantasy was cringing just from looking at Ty. “You

  gotta see this damn girl’s face.”

  “Where’s Fletch?”

  “He left to go back for Illusion because they left her at the

  hotel.”

  “I’ma kill that bitch! I swear that ho don’t know who the fuck she

  messin’ with.”

  Chyna could hear Ty screaming and cursing in the background.

  “Tell Ty to shut all that noise up. I’m on my way.”

  “All right, I’ll tell her,” Fantasy said. “I love you,” she added

  quickly before Chyna could hang up.

  Chyna knew it was coming. “Keep it that way,” she replied,

  then abruptly ended the call.

  The house was noisy, but what else was new? Everybody bragging about all the money they’d made for their pimp that night, betting each other on who outdid the next and sold the most pussy or tricked out the most johns.

  Fantasy remembered boasting and engaging in the same immature arguments, but now, she liked to think of herself as ‘privileged’. There was a lot of shit she got away with
simply because she was who she was and that was all to it. But she still wore the same shoes that every last one of those girls in that house wore, except hers were padded and laced with special treatment. Hell, she slept with men for thousands, even women paid for blissful nights of pleasure with her, but what separated Fantasy from the rest wasn’t her pussy selling techniques; it was the relationship she established with Chyna long before any of the other girls ever entered the picture. Back then it was just the two of them and only a few others that Chyna later ended up contracting to amateur pimps that were fresh in the market and ho hunting. Fantasy was the number one, and number one in the game meant being the bottom bitch.

  Chyna wanted all dimes on her team and those hos she had before Fantasy were far from it. They smoked whatever they could get their hands on and injected anything, anywhere in their bodies for the sake of getting high. Chyna didn’t want women like that representing her name or jeopardizing what she was trying to build, which was her very own empire. Chyna was a businesswoman before anything else, and the clients she had her eyes set on weren’t going to take her serious, if she had women that looked like broke down rejects. She wanted women that men would lie, cheat, and steal for. The kind that silenced the room when they stepped in the door and with a lick of the lips, could suck the cum out of every dick present. She wanted women who would make the president himself take a risk at getting some ass. And if they weren’t that way when she got them, then they damn sure had to have the potential. But most importantly, they had to be loyal and they had to respect the game.

  Chyna scoped out hos from sun up to sun down, desperate to replace her uncle’s hand-me-downs. It was a match made in heaven when she came across Fantasy, at the time, Fat Cat. Fantasy was very well known on the streets and even though she was already on contract, Chyna had to have her. She was sexy, driven, and knew that her place was behind her pimp. It wasn’t too much longer before Fantasy was being promoted, soon to become the wife of her pimptress. Chyna needed someone in her corner she could trust as she recruited eligible women, one at a time. There was no one better to fit the bill than Fantasy. She was Chyna’s main bitch practically from day one. She already knew the game and for what is was worth, she didn’t mind giving all her money to Chyna, so it was just that much easier for her to convince the new recruits to do the same.