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"MY DIRTY HOT ANGEL" EPISODE 10"

My Dirty Hot Angel

Episode 10

“Yo, one more drink, and then I’ll be good,” Rufus demanded in an irate tone.

“Nah nigga, let’s go,” YB said more sternly. He grabbed Rufus by his arm and tried to remove him from the barstool.

Rufus yanked his arm free from YB’s grip and shouted, “Nigga, get the fuck off me! Pullin’ on me like you my daddy.”

YB knew the liquor was talking and cut Rufus some slack regarding his attitude. “Rufus, not here. You’re drunk.”

“Nigga, I’m good. Fuck Magic and his place,” Rufus exclaimed.

Angel and a few other patrons stared, not wanting to intrude, knowing Rufus’s heated and deadly temper. They all figured it was best for YB or Magic to handle him.

“Nigga, don’t go there. You fucked up right now, so let’s be out before I drag your ass out that door, nigga. Don’t fuck wit’ me right now, Rufus,” YB warned.

Rufus let out a drunken chuckle. “Nigga, you family. I ain’t got no beef wit’ you.” His hardened gaze faded and he threw his arm around YB. They both staggered to the exit.

Before they walked out of the club, Rufus asked, “What the fuck Magic wanted to talk to you about, anyway?”

“Just business, my nigga.”

“Why that muthafucka don’t never wanna talk bizzness wit’ me?” Rufus slurred. “He don’t like me, YB?”

YB ignored the question and guided his cousin outside. Rufus was the prime example of what Magic thought was wrong with the niggas today—loud, ignorant, and had no kind of class. They were quick to shoot without thinking and then snitch on the next nigga when caught.

******

Chaos and Sweet could hear Midnight getting fucked in the next room. Her trick was loud, sounding like a horn from a distance. Sweet smiled and said, “Damn, Midnight is puttin’ it on that nigga.”

Chaos chuckled.

They were in the second bedroom, both ladies sitting on the queen-sized bed that was covered in hunter green satin sheets and throw pillows in the same color. The room had an elegant look with an area rug covering shimmering parquet floors. The large bedroom windows were draped in long, white blinds and gave the place a homey feeling.

Crown owned a three-bedroom brick house on Sherwood Road, a few blocks south of City Line Avenue. The place came with granite counterto

ps in the master bedroom, kitchen, and around the Jacuzzi area. It had walk-in closets, three bathrooms (one with a sauna), and the living room was furnished with a large leather sectional, plush carpeting, a sixty-inch plasma TV, and a home theater system with ample speakers scattered throughout the place.

The home was designed to make a trick feel comfortable while fucking one of Crown’s chicks and to make his chicks feel secure when they were under his wing. Crown knew that his chicks came from less, and he gave them the illusion of having more with the toys (luxury cars, upscale neighborhood, and designer clothing) and comfort he provided for them.

He instilled fear and insecurity into his chicks by always reminding his hoes that they couldn’t do better than what he was giving them and that they couldn’t run or hide from him. His name rang out in Philly, and whatever happened, he had the power to track down and have a bitch brought back—or killed if he wanted.

Still, Crown always reminded his chicks that they were beautiful and had the potential to earn him top dollar when dealing with a trick. His words and actions were contradictive and conniving.

Crown’s right-hand man, Harlem, watched his back and looked out for his chicks. Harlem was ruthless and deadly, and wherever he went, murder and pain were soon to follow.

Harlem was lean and tall like a NBA player. His head was shaved and gleaming, his eyes gray and beady. He looked no older than eighteen even though he was in his late twenties and well experienced with the streets of Philly. Harlem was a product of the notorious project development, Tasker homes, before they were torn down a few years ago.

Crown befriended Harlem a few years ago when they both were in lockup at Philadelphia Riverside Correctional Facility on State Road. With Harlem having Crown’s back, nobody fucked with the duo. Harlem had more bodies on him than a cemetery.

Chaos and Sweet continued to talk, trying to ignore the loud sex coming from the next room. Crown had brought the man through and he’d paid $200 for an hour with Midnight. He had fifteen minutes left.

Crown was down in the basement, enjoying his liquor and satellite TV and keeping tabs on how long Smitty had with Midnight. He held a watch in his hand. He was strict when it came to his women and his time. A few minutes over and niggas had to pay extra. Crown wasn’t giving away any pussy for free.

His most profitable ho was Chaos. She was young, nineteen and had been under his wing for almost a year now. Month after month, Chaos’s clientele of men—and a few women—seemed to grow. They loved her young, angelic features and her soft, curvy figure. She was known to be a freak in the bedroom who did wonders with her tongue.

With Harlem by his side, Crown would usually scope the bus station and the 30th Street train station for young runaway girls who were looking for something better and would naïvely believe the promises he made to them. Crown lured the young girls in with promises of material things and easy cash to be made. Just as he anticipated, Chaos ate up his lies and promises.

Crown met Chaos when she just arrived in Philly. She came off at the bus station on Market Street with only a tattered book bag in hand and the clothes on her back. She escaped from the Bronx, hoping to make some money for herself and to start a new prosperous life.

When Chaos reached Philly, she only had thirty dollars in her pockets and a number to call. Her cousin Bubbles moved to Philly three years prior and made a fine life for herself since her arrival. She’s wanted Chaos to live with her for a while to give her stability, with moving from one foster home to another, and beefing with a few blood chicks from the South Bronx. When gunshots starting ringing out and Chaos’s home-girl, Rachael wound up dead on the cold side walk on Third Avenue with a bullet in her head, she decided it was time for a change of scenery and caught the next available bus to Philadelphia.
______

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