"I wanna fuck you."
"It’ll cost you," Jada said.
"You ain’t said shit to me, mommy," The One said. "Why don’t I double what you usually charge? I always gets what I want."
Jada thought The One was fine as hell, but since she wasn’t plannin’ on fuckin’ him or anybody else in there, she decided to get ridiculous. "Two grand," Jada said quickly, thinking that he would say she was crazy.
"Why don’t we make it three," The One said and her eyes lit up. Jada saw herself as a dancer and an entertainer, not a ho. Most of the other dancers were letting drunk-ass niggas fuck them cheap. Jada had taken pride in the fact that she wasn’t that kind of dancer. But three grand just to fuck him, Jada knew that she couldn’t turn down that kind of money.
When it was over, and it didn’t last very long, Jada felt used. Probably because I have been used, Jada thought on her way to the elevator. But at the same time, she was smiling inside at the money she’d just made in less than five minutes, and Jada wondered who really used who. She began to think about how easy that actually was as opposed to what she was doing dancing at the club. She knew if she busted her ass and hustled all night, she could make a grand, maybe more on a good night. But Jada had just made three times that amount and barely broke a sweat.
When the elevator stopped on the twenty-sixth floor, a woman stepped into the elevator. "My name is Sasha Deverox." When Sasha told Jada that she was an escort, Jada knew Sasha was somebody she needed to get to know better. The way she was dressed, the way she carried herself, Jada knew being an escort was a much better hustle than stripping.
Sasha offered to let Jada work under her until she felt comfortable going out on her own. Under Sasha’s tutelage Jada learned how to walk, talk and dress like a lady. When that day came for Jada to go out on her own, she met with Sasha. "You think you’re ready to fly solo? Is that what you think you wanna tell me?"
"I think I’m ready. No, I know I’m ready."
"Look at you, Jada. All dressed up tryin’ to be a lady. Do you remember who you were when I met you? You couldn’t talk, you could barely walk without falling on your face, and you definitely had the most ghetto taste in clothes," Sasha laughed and Jada wanted to kick her ass. "I made you," Sasha leaned forward and said sternly. "It was me who taught you how to walk without falling; how to talk without having to end every sentence with a cuss word. And it was me who taught you how to dress like a lady. I taught you all those things. If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be shakin’ your ass at that dive. I made you, Jada," she said again, but this time she stuck her finger in Jada’s face. "Never forget that."
"No, Sasha," Jada said to her. "I won’t forget any of that." Although she hated to admit it, Sasha was absolutely right about her.
Then Sasha smiled. "Stop looking like that." Her smile turned into laughter. "I was just playing with you. Listen, honey, I am so proud of you and the way you handle yourself now. Jada, you have come so far. You’ve been ready to fly solo for a long time."
Sasha was Jada’s madam. Even though she hated the word, she was her pimp. That’s where the money was, not laying on her back with her legs in the air. Jada was giving Sasha two, sometimes three grand a week. "If I were to get a couple of girls working for me, I could pull in five, six grand a week."
From there, Jada put together her team: Diane, Bella and Simone. Their target group was the new rich-the ones who just stumbled into money-the ones who don’t quite know how to act now that they had it.
"Ballers," Diane said.
"I’m talking about music industry insiders, rappers, music producers, actors, movie and television producers, and of course ballers," Jada told her new team. And from there Jada West worked her way to the top.
It was 8:00 p.m. sharp when Black and Victor arrived at Jada’s apartment. They went up in the elevator and Black rang the bell.
"What do you want me to do?" Victor asked.
"You wait here. Make sure nobody comes in on me," Black said.
"Just stand here; that’s it?"
"That’s it," Black said as Jada opened the door. As she always did every time he saw her, Jada looked phenomenal. She was dressed in a black Herve Leger armor trim dress with a single strap across the shoulder and a string of pearls.
"Good evening, Mr. Black," Jada said and smiled.
"Good evening, Ms. West."
"Please come in," she said and stepped to the side to let him pass.
Black walked in the apartment and looked around. "Very nice place you have here, Ms. West."
"Thank you, Mr. Black. Please have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?"
"Thank you," Black said and watched Jada as she walked toward the bar to fix his drink. He liked Jada-admired her style. Aside from being one of the most beautiful women he had ever met, Jada West had class.
Jada returned with his drink and sat down next to him. "Remy Martin VSOP, right?"
"You remembered. I cannot help but be touched. But in your business, I’m sure little things like that are part of the job," Black said and Jada smiled.
"That’s true, but I think it’s more than that. I want to remember the things that are important to you."
"So what I drink is important to you?"
"You’re a very important man, Mr. Black. For more reasons than just business. Everything about you is important to me."
"You flatter me, Ms. West."
"You don’t have to be so formal, Mr. Black, you can call me Jada."
"Why don’t I just call you Miss Kitty," Black said.
Jada giggled and as she usually did, Black enjoyed the sound of it and the smile that came with. "Nobody has called me that in years," she said and thought back to the night she met Black. It was the same night she met The One.
Black was sitting at a table in the corner with the club’s manager, Bruce-Bruce, when he caught Jada’s eye. She was just about to make her way over there when she was surrounded by three men hollering, "Miss Kitty, Miss Kitty," and dropping money at her feet. Without taking her eyes off Black, Jada took off her outfit and went to work. When the song ended, Jada picked up her money and went back to the dressing room.
When she returned to the floor, Jada looked around the club for Black, but she didn’t see him. Jada was startled when a deep and sexy voice said, "Miss Kitty, right?"
"That’s me."
"I enjoyed watching you dance," Black said.
"Thanks. You a friend of Bruce-Bruce?"
"I guess you could say that."
"I haven’t seen you here before, so I guess you’re part of The One’s entourage."
Jada remembered that Black flashed a smile and she got wet. "Not exactly. I own the company that manages The One."
"Oh really," Jada said, knowing that Black was somebody she needed to know. They talked for a minute after that, and then Black left the party.
Black looked at Jada and smiled. It had the same effect on her that it had the first time. Her mind began to drift but she caught herself. She had important business to discuss with Black. When her issues were behind her, then she could think about indulging her passion. "No, Mr. Black, I think I’d prefer it if you called me Jada. I left Miss Kitty back at the club years ago."
"Okay, Jada it is, but only if you call me Mike."
"I’d like that," Jada smiled and Black thought about how much he wanted to strip her out of that Herve Leger black dress and bend her over the closet piece of furniture, but he remembered that she invited him there to talk business.
Black took a sip of his drink. "So, tell me, Jada, what did you want to see me about?"
"I have a problem that I need your help with," Jada began.
"What can I do for you?"
"You see, there’s this guy that’s trying to shake me down."
"What do you mean, tryin’ to shake you down?" Black asked even though he had a good idea.
"It began about a month ago. One of my girls was out with a client. After they had sex and she got ready to leave, he beat her up."
"Was she hurt badly?" Black asked and finished his drink.
"Bad enough that she couldn’t work for a couple of weeks until her wounds healed. A week later the same thing happened again. Same pattern, new client, took the girl someplace secluded, beat her after sex," Jada said and took Black’s glass from his hand. She went to the bar to refresh his drink. "A few days later I was at The Pen-Top Bar amp; Terrace inside the Peninsula Hotel having dinner with a potential client, when this man sits down at the table with us," Jada said as she poured.
"What did he want?"
"Once he scared off the client, he told me that he was my new partner," Jada returned with the drink and handed it to Black. "He said that he was responsible for what had happened to my girls, and if I wanted it to stop that I would give him twenty percent."
"What did you tell him?"
Jada laughed. "I basically told him to kiss my ass, and I got up and left."
"Since we’re having this conversation, I take it that it didn’t stop there."
"No. I figured if we tightened up and did a better job of screening our clients that at least the girls would be safe, and I would deal with this clown and his threats. But then he began catching them before they got to the clients or after they were finished."
"Your girls don’t have security?"
"Some do. They have men that drive them to their appointments and pick them up afterwards, but he targeted the ones that don’t have any type of security. He came here last night and caught me in the elevator."
"He didn’t hurt you did he?"
"No. He just wanted to make his point and scare me."
"What he say?"
"Same thing; my problems go away for twenty percent."
"Don’t you have security?"
"No."
"Maybe you should get some," Black advised.
"No," Jada insisted. "I don’t need security. I need Mike Black," she said and moved close to him.
"Me? Why you think you need me?"
"Do I really need to answer that question?"
"No. Not really. I get the point. So, if take care of this guy for you, what makes you think that I wouldn’t want twenty percent of your business?"
"Because you’d be doing me a favor. You know, like the one I did for you not too long ago."
"I see."
"I was talking to James Fremeno. You remember the reporter from the New York Post that I set out for you."
"How’s he doing?"
"He said that he wanted to thank me for putting him in touch with Miss Collins, because the story she gave him was inline to win some award for reporting."
"The Tom Renner Award for Crime Reporting."
"Was that what it was?" Jada giggled. "Then he told me that the guy the articles were about ended up getting murdered in Mexico. A DEA agent; Peter J. Vinnelli, I believe his name was."
"I see you’ve been checkin’ up on me, Ms. West?"
"Jada, please, call me Jada," she said and smiled at Black. "But, no, I’m not checking up on you. It’s like I told you, you’re a very important man, Mike Black. And I try to know important things about important men."
"How do you wanna come outta this?"
"With this guy off my back and me not owing you twenty percent of my business," Jada said quietly.
"How’d you leave it with him?"
"He said he would be back here tomorrow afternoon, and he’ll expect my answer."
"What time tomorrow?"
"He didn’t say."
Black looked at Jada for what seemed to her like a long time. "Okay. I’ll see what I can do for you."
"That’s the best I could ask for," Jada said.
"What’s this guy’s name?"
"He said his name was Mushnikov. I think that’s how it’s pronounced."
"Oleg Mushnikov?" Black asked.
"I believe so. Do you know him?"
"Yeah, I know Oleg. We’re not exactly what you’d call friends, but I do know him," Black said and laughed a little. "You mind if I use your phone?"
"Not at all," Jada said and got up to get it. She knew she had come to the right person. Jada always loved a man who could get things done for her, and Mike Black was that type of man.
She handed Black the phone and he dialed a number. "Yeah," a man’s voice answered.
"Let me speak to Angelo."
"Who the fuck is this?"
"Mike Black."
"Who the fuck is that?"
"I’m the mutha fucka that’s gonna put a bullet in your brain if you don’t put Angee on the phone right fuckin’ now!" Black shouted and looked at Jada. He put his hand over the phone. "Please, excuse my language," he said softly and returned his attention to the phone. He could hear Angelo in the background asking who was on the phone.
"Some guy says his name is Mike Black."
"Give me the phone, fuckin’ moron," Angelo said. "Mikey! How’s it goin’?"
"Everything’s good, Angee. What about you?"
"Same old shit. You on your way out here? I got a bottle of Remy Martin XO Premier Cru here with your name on it."
"Not tonight, Angee, I got a couple of things goin’ right now, but I need your help with something."
"What’s up?"
"When’s the last time you talked to Oleg?"
"It’s been a minute. Probably the last time we all got drunk together, why?"
"I need to talk to him. Can you arrange a sit down with him?"
"Sure. I’ll give him a call in the morning," Angelo said.
"No, Angee, I need to talk to him tonight," Black said and looked at Jada. "Can you do it?"
"Sounds serious."
"Yeah, Angee, it kinda is." Jada smiled at him and pushed her pouty lips out a little.
"I’ll give him a call right now and get back to you."
"Thanks, Angee," Black said and ended the call. He turned to Jada and handed her the phone. "I’ll take Oleg off your back, and then we’ll talk about what you owe me, Ms. West," he said and stood up.
"Jada, please, Jada," she said and walked Black to the door. "And thank you for agreeing to help me," Jada said and kissed Black on the cheek.
"What was that for?"
"Just wanted to see how it felt," Jada said.
"And?"
Jada opened the door. "We’ll talk about that when you tell me what I owe you."
"Fair enough," Black said and left her apartment and walked past Victor. "Come on, we got shit to do."