Sabotage Read Online Free PDF

latter clouded his artistic opinion somewhat.
    Three minutes. He was close to being on time. He was now backstage and exchanging handshakes with his boys. Joey would try to make it on time and do them proud. Maybe they’d give him a bonus or something. He was standing next to Raylon, his confidant, his best and oldest friend. Raylon’s phone rang; he looked annoyed. Joey asked him what was wrong.
    “Man, this the third time in twenty minutes. Damn promoter is blowin’ up my shit.”
    “Yes,” he told him again. They were ready. “Yes,” he told them as soon as the song was over. He snapped his fingers and fidgeted. “Yes, Pal Joey will be on the stage in two minutes. Promise.”
    He closed the phone and threw it down. This mug was getting on his nerves. “Shit, man,” he said to himself. He promised to do this, and he knew about the timeframe. “Let’s get it on and get it gone.”
    But in the brief time that Raylon averted his eyes from his charge, Joey was half into a limo. There was a vision standing just outside the door. A blonde-headed, big-breasted vision with an ass the size of a horse farm. She was a Becky, slang for a white girl who loved black men and only black men. But oh, she was a fine-looking Becky. Raylon hated these distractions, because, most of the time, he was playing traffic cop instead of getting to enjoy the goods. He got paid very well so that Joey got to hit that shit, but that didn’t make it any less fun to see your bro taking that all for himself. And she was fine . Raylon would have been tempted to sample that ass himself and ask for forgiveness later.
    Joey was clearly introducing himself to this young lady.
    “Yo, Joey.” Raylon tugged at his shirt. “Come on. This shit can wait. She’ll be here after you’re done. Three songs. Where you at?”
    ‘Yeah, I know,” Joey said, turning to glance at Raylon with the slanted eyes of a serious dope smoker. The entire entourage smelled like a Thailand grow farm.
    “We’re supposed to be on now,” he said, hoping to talk one more problem out of the way, knowing he was going to fail.
    “I’ll check witchoo in a few,” he said. “Send the hype.”
    Big Brooza was his hype man. This was not what he was supposed to do, not at all. They were going to deviate from the plan so that Joey could get laid.
    But hell, he thought. He’d be giving the audience more show. Joey would do his three. They certainly wouldn’t complain about a longer show.
    Brooza had seen this before. He admired Joey’s new friend and nodded at Raylon with the look they gave when a classic piece of ass came Joey’s way. Shit, Brooza was happy. He could plug his own release, out next week, on Straight Up Cash with plenty of guest appearances from his boy.
    Raylon nodded and sent Brooza toward the stage. Roger that, thought Big Brooza. He was gonna rock this shit. Raylon pulled a walkie talkie from his pocket and asked the stage crew to go to Plan B.
    “What’s up, Callllllli?” Big Brooza hit the stage, plenty happy to fill the time.
    “Y’all know me. From da SD. 619 baby comin’ up da coast to fuck witchoo!”
    The crowd, emerging from this rather impromptu setup, cheered wildly. Pal Joey was big and getting bigger. Brooza got his drops on the records, and most kids knew him. This was big stuff.
    Joey introduced himself to his new playmate, although he obviously needed no introduction. She looked upset and put off as he took her hand, and they got into Limo Number Four, a white stretch limo which had no current occupants, Joey’s only requirement right now. The exterior was ho-hum, but the interior made up for it. It looked like a neon fairy cut an artery.
    “Hi, Becky. I’m Joey.”
    “That ain’t my name, boo.” She put her hand on his neck and teased him. She didn’t like being called a Becky, even though she clearly knew she was one.
    “I know, but I ain’t gonna rememba ya name anyway. Let’s just keep it simple. You a fine lookin’