Airtight Willie & Me Read Online Free PDF Page A

game . . . cotch, I think. Ross ain’t got Sue really tight. He’s too strict. Don’t see why he ain’t blowed her ’fore now . . . ’cept maybe she done got freakish to his foot in her ass. She’s been an orphan since twelve . . . Saw her daddy waste her mama with a butcher knife. That’s it, Slim. Oh yeah . . . Happy birthday!”
    Bitsy got to her feet. She laughed scornfully. “That dizzy ho is aching to be a lady ho . . . wants to cop lots of book learning . . . cop nice proper speech and all that phony shit. Ain’t that a bitch?”
    I said, “Ain’t it! Thanks, l’il sis.”
    She scurried back to the cash register.
    Phil said, “You ain’t gonna get the chance to play for Sue the airtight way Ross bird-dogs her. He’ll shoot or stomp a mud hole in your ass.”
    I said, “Phil, I gotta figure an angle to make her hit on me. You know, give me the first lick. How about laying a rod on me . . . to back me up?”
    Phil shrugged. “Not now, pally. I got to think about it, nigger. It’s gonna take more than my flash and your bedroom eyes to make that ho give you that lick. Guest of Honor, you better just handle the licks you gonna get here in the joint before daybreak . . . Lots of qualified black and white hoes gonna be here letting their hair down.”
    The joint’s band drifted in and started tootling and blowing a few practice riffs on a bandstand beside the bar.
    Single mud-kickers, black players and their interracial stables,started to park far-out pimpmobiles up and down the block. They peacocked into Pretty Phil’s all decked out in psychedelic threads.
    Phil introduced me to the strangers. Many of the players I knew. The inside of my mitts were flaming from the palms I slapped. It was phantasmagoria. They wantonly danced to the funky band’s erotic pound. In the red-lit murk, there was the counterpoint bedlam of profane ribaldry as they loaded their skulls with cocaine and the bubbly. The mirrored globes revolving in the ceiling speckled their faces with flashing light. The meld of their perfumes was a near suffocating cloud. It was like Dante’s Inferno updated.
    By four A.M. the joint was claustrophobic. I had gotten several ho licks and birthday wishes galore. But I felt lonely and blue, like a joker in a haunted house. I was in the basement of a pit. The superfox ho target hadn’t shown, and I was still just a welfare case of Phil’s.
    I retreated into a booth in the absolute rear of the joint next to the ho crapper. I eyeballed the front door with the radiant zeal of a weasel.
    Bubbles, the Dane, had taken station near the front slammer. She was coldly sweeping her eyes over the crowd like the stomp-down security guard Phil had cracked she was.
    Phil threaded his way to my booth. He leaned into my ear and whispered harshly. “You blind or something, pally? That redhead white ho at the bar is pinning you and about to come on herself. Latch on to the ho’s eye! Honor the lick! It’s catching time, nigger! Flow and glow, pally.” He shook his head and moved away.
    I was turning my head to yank the package he’d fingered when Miss Superfox herself pranced through the front slammer. Alone! Appropriately, a drumroll of summer thunder announced her entrance. A shard of lightning flashed like a klieg light behind her.
    My ticker rioted. A delicious stealing lust electrified my genitals. She was dap and down in a black chiffon chemise vine. A white mink stole was draped casually across her shoulders. She smiledfrostily as she sidestepped through a gauntlet of cracking and hitting players to a stool at the bar.
    I had to string together a stealing tune based on Bitsy’s rundown. Like I said, I was just a welfare case. You know, with no stable and power like Phil. With a power base I would’ve blitzed her. You