Free Brooklyn Brothel by C. Stecko

next set of words hurt me to my heart.
    “I don’t wanna hear no shit ’bout your son! You betta make me some damn money!”
    My heart hardened for Bo at that very moment. I slammed the phone down, got up and headed up the stairs while the tears streamed. I was hurt. A deep down hurt that couldn’t be mended. I cried so hard there was no way to catch all the mucus gushin’ from my nose.

Chapter 6
    The hot-ass sun had finally gone down for the day, and was replaced with several, thick grey clouds. My day had been nothin’ more than terrible since the Bo ordeal earlier in the mornin’. The rain had been poundin’ the New York area since about two o’clock, so naturally business had been slow. I sat in the great room lookin’ like a lost puppy while the otha girls crowded around Serita’s lap top that she’d let us borrow. Supposedly we were under a severe thunderstorm watch.
    I guess the torrential rains we were gettin’ kept the customers away. I only had the pleasure of servicin’ two guys the whole day, and once Serita announced we would shut down at nine, it put me into a deep funk.
    I wanted to ask Serita why they would shut down just because of a thunderstorm warnin’. I needed to make money! I’d spent most of my day, runnin’ back and forth shampooin’ my pussy, and writin’ Dre a long letter in between fightin’ for clients, and actually layin’ on my back.
    Cinnamon strutted out of the room farthest to the wall. She’d snagged some Arabian man that came in with a turban and a foot fetish. When he started sniffin’ at our feet, I told him fuck no, and had been sittin’ down eva since.
    “He was worthhhhhhhh it girl,” Cinnamon bragged, ploppin’ down in the seat next to me.
    “How much?” I asked with my hater face plastered on.
    “$400,” she sang, while flashin’ the money in my face. “And guess what, Serita will think I only made $200,” she laughed.
    I shook my head realizin’ I had fucked up. I had let my situation with Bo ruin my attitude for the day, which was affectin’ my cash flow.
    Cinnamon began askin’ me ’bout what I was gonna do when I got back home. I told her Bo’s time in my life was limited. I needed him just to show that I had a man livin’ with me…we were the happy couple and would be gettin’ married soon. Once I convinced the judge of that bullshit, I was gonna leave Bo for sure.
    “Listen, I hate to tell you this, but you know when you get back to PA, Bo is gonna take every dime you made, right?”
    I glared up at Cinnamon with a strange expression. She really believed what she was sayin’. “Nah, not Bo. He just wants to live this pimp life for now. It’s not who he really is.” I stopped to clear my throat. “He’s rough around the edges, but he wouldn’t do that to me.”
    “He’s a pimp Co-Co. A fuckin’ pimp. They’re all the same. They will take all your money and give you what they want you to have. I mean…I got lucky. My pimp is pretty decent, but he still takes all the money, and gives me what he thinks I need.”
    Cinnamon jumped up from the couch tryin’ to make her point. Her hands rested just below her waist-line. “I guarantee you, when you get off the bus with the money Betty sends, he’s gonna search every crease and hole on your body, making sure you not stashing money.”
    I shook my head lettin’ her know I wasn’t buyin’ it.
    “Stop being so naive and listen to me,” she warned. “Just remember this, at least roll all your tip money up, put it in a condom, and stuff it in your pussy before you get on the bus. When Bo picks you up from the terminal, act like you gotta pee badly. I mean really do the acting thing. When you get home, run to the bathroom, look the door, and stash themoney for when you need it most. You will eventually need it,” she said in an alarmin’ tone.
    I listened hard, but had otha issues. Betty was on her way back in the room to see me again. I saw her big-ass struttin’ my way.