Author: Michael Scott (---.bb.sky.com)
Date: 05-15-08 12:10
Kayvee had to resort to the oldest known profession in order to survive. When Kayvee first started, she'd resorted to the use of drugs, to take away some of the pain. Then, like others she was in a catch twenty two situation; she depended on the drugs so she could bring herself to do the work, and she needed to work, to finance the drug dependency. For some time, Kayvee and the other girls on the beat had been having a few territorial issues. A pimp named Juvenile claimed to be the solution to all the hassle she was having, but linking up with him proved to be not one of her better decisions. Juvenile, had done nothing to protect her. All he ever did, was beat her, for not making enough cash, she wasn't making enough cash, because all the other girls kept running her off the beat. On the night in question, she was arguing and fighting with a couple of her co-workers.
“Ladies, Ladies please! Play nicely.” A stranger said, as he intervened and broke up the little scuffle. The stranger was over tall, six feet, maybe six-one or six-two. He was an African American, with shoulder length dreadlocks. He wore a light suit jacket with jeans. His appearance could best be described as tidy. For once, Juvenile was actually in the neighbourhood, he decided to mark his territory. Juvenile believed he was the ultimate alpha male.
“Nigger! you need to mind your damn business and walk on.” The pimp boomed, puffing out his chest to the stranger. The stranger was well spoken and polite, you could hear it in his voice as he apologised. He was smiling when he said.
“Sorry Sir. Just trying to keep the peace.” He proceeded to walk on, to go about his business.
“You damn right to call me Sir, I'm your daddy, I ought to whoop you in you head! Keep the peace! Huh! Do want to feel a piece of lead in your gut?” Juvenile shouted, he faked a backhanded slap, aimed at the back of the man's head. The stranger stopped in his tracks, turned, and spoke very calmly.
“You are right, this here is none of my business, and I am moving on. Unless you are looking for some kind of an academy award, best actor maybe? There's no need to try to act the big man in front of these ladies.”
“Shut the @!#$ up and walk on nigger!” Juvenile cursed. There was a very noticeable switch in attitude. The man marched up to Juvenile, the smile was gone, however the calmness remained.
“Don't tell me what to do, don't you ever do that.” He looked away, looked back, then put his finger against his lips like he was telling somebody, maybe even himself, to be quiet. The stranger then pointed, like he'd had an idea. “Listen son.” He continued “You. You are just an idiot boy standing there in what looks like a dumb assed prison uniform. You are waiting to be somebody's bitch.” Juvenile down looked at his own clothing, he was wearing a silk shirt and Armani jeans, the jeans were undone and hitched around the top of his thighs.
“Prison Uniform? What you talking about? Who you calling a bitch?” Juvenile pulled his gun from the waistband of his boxer shorts and held it down by his side. Juvenile seemed a little nervous. The stranger must have seen the gun but chose to ignore it, he remained both calm and confident.
“Listen son.” He started. “With your jeans around your knees, you won't be running very fast. So the feds will catch you, and when they put you in pen, coz they will put scum like you in pen. Your ass is already hanging out, ripe and ready, so them boys are gonna love you. Boy, are they gonna just love your ass.” The stranger chuckled, as he finished the sentence. All of the three girls found this amusing. Juvenile got mad and shouted at them.
“What the @!#$ you bitches laughing at? Huh! Shut the @!#$ up!” He then turned to speak to the stranger, but the man was nowhere to be seen. Kayvee was still laughing loudly, this attracted Juvenile's attention. Kayvee was feeling charged, inspired and foolishly brave. She set about him verbally.
“Juvenile, you are totally ****ing useless! A total waste of space! That guy was right, you're just a stupid boy. Move from me! I've had it with you. I'm going back to being on my own. Juvenile, you are never around, even when you are around, you can't do @!#$!” Naturally, Juvenile didn't take this very well, and by way of retaliation had thrown her over a car bonnet. The pimp began to beat her severely. The other girls, helpless, stood and watched.
“Can't do @!#$! Huh!” He screamed, as he brought the butt of the pistol crashing into the side of her face, again and again. “Can't do @!#$! Can't do @!#$!” He matched each phrase to a blow. After the third strike, Kayvee, lay motionless on the ground in front of the car. She was fully conscious. The hooker just looked up at him coldly, preparing herself for what undoubtedly came next. Juvenile tucked the gun into the back of his waistband and inserted his hand into the front of his shorts.
“Bitch! I'm gonna show you what I can do! I'll show who can't do @!#$!” Juvenile pulled himself out of his boxers. Kayvee gave Juvenile a defiant stare, followed by a long slow blink. She wasn't gonna give him the satisfaction of closing her eyes for this, she just continued to stare. Be certain, hell would freeze over before she cried. Kayvee would die before she begged, she was ready to make her last stand right here and now. The look in the prostitute's eyes, challenged him. Yes, her eyes showed defiance, but they also possessed childlike quality. Juvenile lost his nerve, and with it, any hope of maintaining an erection. His original intent had been to rape her, right then and there in the street. To make an example of her in front of everybody, to show them who was boss. Without an erection this was going to backfire. The whole neighbourhood would be calling him, limp dick.
“@!#$ you bitch! I ain't even gonna @!#$ you, coz you ain't worth ****in', you're trash, a stinkin' dirty spic, nuttin' but trash, you just a ho.” Juvenile had to maintain his image and status. “You know what? I am gonna piss on you and leave you on the street. That way you'll smell like the piece of garbage you are!” For this, she had to close her eyes. Kayvee squeezed them shut tightly, she waited for the golden humiliation to descend. Nothing happened, save for the sounds of a crash and a grunt and a thud. When the prostitute eventually summoned the courage to open her eyes, the first thing she saw was the stranger, leaning on a shovel, with Juvenile's gun in his hand. Juvenile lay unconscious, the stranger was pulling her to her feet.
“Fark!” She exclaimed, touching he collarbone. “Iss he dead?”
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