Page 26 of The Smoke Hour

Noel shook his head. “Aside from the lounge, I know that he sells used cars, and he owns some West African cafés.”

“Socco West African Cafés?” Christina asked.

“Yeah,” Noel replied.

“Their food is the shit!” Tamara declared.

“They do have good food.” Noel agreed.

“Okay, but what’s the problem again?” I asked.

“He’s an illegal arms dealer, and he owns some dry cleaners that are rumored to have illegal gambling in the back,” Noel stated.

“Rumors. Since when have you been the one to listen to rumors, Noel?” I asked.

“When they come from reputable sources. Even if gambling is a lie, that illegal arms trading is the shit that he’s known for in the underground world. And I have no clue how many bodies he’s caught.”

“Ooohh, underground world. Listen to you trying to sound all suspicious and spooky,” Christina stated, wiggling her fingers in the air.

“All right. Think that I’m playing if you want to. Don’t say your little ass wasn’t warned,” Noel stated.

“It’s not me saying that; it’s Chris. I’m listening,” I replied.

“But you’re not going to listen, are you? You’re still taking your ass back to that lounge, aren’t you?” Noel asked.

“Well, I mean…”

“Girl, get your ass out there. Them dangerous niggas be the best ones to have sex with. They have all the BDE. Rupture your uterus, snatch out your fallopian tubes, and cause you to give up your mama’s social security number,” Tamara stated dreamily, staring off into space.

The three of us stared at her.

“What the fuck have you been into?” Noel asked.

She looked at us. “What?”

I shook my head.

“That BDE is what gets you killed, in a toxic relationship, and all sorts of trouble. That’s that stalker dick,” Christina remarked.

“How the hell do you know?” Tamara and I asked at the same time.

“I’ve had a couple in my past,” Christina replied.

“Them niggas never stay in the past.” Noel’s comment was muttered, but he stared at me as he said it.

Fiya

Igripped my clutch tightly as I stepped into the lounge. Anticipation pulsed through my veins, and my pussy was already wet with the expectations of what would tonight bring.

“Welcome to The Smoke Hour Lounge,” Pharris greeted as I stepped up to the reception desk.

“Hi, Pharris. I’m here to see Mr. Socco.”

“He’s waiting for you, Ms. Simmons,” Pharris replied.

As I walked down the hall toward his office, I could hear laughter coming from that direction. On previous occasions when I had been here, no one had been there except for his brother that one time. I wondered who all was back here now.

I knocked on the door and waited several seconds before a tall, light-skinned man answered. It was the same man who accompanied Smoke the night of my little strip performance.

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