Bred To Kill

Lo POV

I don’t know what I’m gonna’ do…” I cried. “Girl. I told you we got you. You can stay with me ‘n’ King while we get all this settled. It’s too hot for you to just be livin’ up in there. Shit, I’m glad you wasn’t there when this happened. It could’ve been you, Lo…” she explained. I sat there in silence, thinking about what she had just said. Had I not gone to school today, I probably would’ve been laid out just like my pops. It was too risky to just stay up in the apartment, so staying with Queen was my best option. Shit, it’s not like I had anywhere else to go. Living at Queen’s house for the next couple of months seemed like a dream. After King informed me that some young nigga from the projects was the one that killed my dad, I felt a little relieved. Especially since King and his crew took care of that bitch ass nigga and dumped his ass in the Detroit River. But the pain of knowing he was gone still resided within me. I knew then why the hood loved King so much, and I did too. He treated me like I was a part of the family, not even giving it a second thought. King use to come into the crib and help us with our homework every night. And when it was time to eat, we dined at nothing but the best restaurants for dinner. Shit, King even took us to the mall faithfully to make sure we both had the flyest gear on the block. But as the months passed, I started to feel bad living there. Even though Queen kept reassuring me it was no problem having me stay there, I just felt like I should be doing more instead of getting everything for free. I wasn’t accustomed to everything being given to me without something in return. Feeling that way really started to eat me up on the inside, so within that week I packed my things and told Queen I was moving out. At first she took it kind of hard, but then she eventually understood that me leaving was more for me then for her. With the little bit of change I had in my pocket, I took the bus to the west side of Detroit, not knowing where to go. I walked aimlessly around all day until I ended up at the mall close to closing time. Sitting on the bench, I watched as people exited the mall and walked to their parked cars and left. I looked up at the sky, which was getting darker by the minute, and I still didn’t have anywhere to go. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to leave Queen’s house was all I thought when out of nowhere the sound of a car pulling up in front of me grabbed my attention. There in a powder pink range rover sat a stylish, full-figured woman that had smooth caramel skin, long flowing tresses, and flawless makeup. “Hey there, young lady, you ok?” the woman's voice called out as she completely rolled down her presidential tinted window. “Yes, ma’am, I fine,” I said shyly. “Ok, sweetie. You sure you don’t need a ride?” she said. “No, I’m good,” I said, quickly brushing her off. “All right, fine. Take care now,” she responded before rolling the window back up and pulling off. I sat there in awe as I read her diamond-studded license plate that read “SugaFoot.” But just as soon as she pulled away, the car stopped and reversed back in front of me. The women rolled her window down again, and this time her face looked serious, almost mother like. “You know what, sweetie, it’s just not sitting well with me that a young girl like you is sitting here like this. Where is your parents?” “They’re dead...” “Oh lord, is there anyone taking care of you?” she said in a voice that was full of concern. “No, there isn’t, but there’s no need to worry. I can take care of myself,” I said matter-of-factly as I stood up from the bench and started to walk away. “I see you one of them types that don’t like handouts. I get it. Say, sweetie, if you want you can come work for me, and I even throw in room and board.” “Thank you, ma’am, but I not sure if that’s a good idea.” “Look here, little girl. I ain’t no trafficker if that’s what you thinking. But if you want somewhere to go and some money in yo pocket, just ask about me and any and everyone will point you in my direction.” And with that she pulled away, this time not coming back. I sighed heavily before walking to the nearest shelter to see if they had any cots left, and luckily I was able to get the last one. There was no way in hell that I was going to stay with a woman that I didn’t know anything about. Shit, that women could drug me and ship me to the highest bidder. And she even had the nerve to tell me to ask the streets about her! Well, I call tell you this: there ain’t no one I know that could possibly know a woman named Suga-foot. Weeks passed and I had no luck in finding a permanent place to stay, so I started to ask folks around the shelter about that woman called Suga-foot. And the funny thing is that everyone I spoke to told me nothing but good things about her. This Suga-foot lady was called the Madam of the West Side, and to some she was almost god-like. They spoke about how she donates loads of money to charitable organizations all over the D. And how during each and every holiday she holds the most extravagant parties and cookouts. Now curious to see what she was all about, I got directions to her home, which only took a couple of minutes to get to on foot. Once I made it to the house, it looked pretty normal. On the lush, green manicured lawn behind a normal fence sat a house that looked like the typical grandmother house, the kind you would only see on TV. Big sunflowers and other flowers sat in the flower bed in front of the long porch that had two rocking chairs on it. Unlatching the fence and walking up the smooth driveway, I made my way to the front door. I knocked a couple times before the door swung open, revealing a tall, muscular, bald-headed man. His low chinky eyes glared at me as he stood in the doorway with his thick arms folded. “You need something, kid?” “Umm, I was told by Suga-foot that if I needed a job to come here.” “You have an appointment? What’s your name? “No, I don't have an appointment. She met me a couple of weeks ago at the mall. I'm sure if you tell her she will remember me.” “What’s your name?” “My name…my name is Lo,” I stuttered. “Wait here,” the man commanded as he shut the door. The sounds of voices chattered behind the door when finally that door opened again, revealing Suga-foot in a big fluffy robe and slippers with rollers in her sandy brown hair. “So you finally came to your senses, huh girl? Well come on in,” she said with a smirk plastered on her face as she moved aside, allowing me to enter her home. Once in the house, I felt an overwhelming sense of peace. I sat down on her plush pink sofa and looked around her living room that was filled with butterfly decor. Sitting in a chair in front of me while sparking up a cigarette, Suga-foot started to speak. “So I take it you ask around about me. So what do you think?” “Well...I mean, it seems that you like to give back to the community, but I’m just unsure how that is even possible for someone your age.” Suga-foot laughed lightly before speaking. “Hunny, let me tell you something, age don’t have anything to do with making money and keeping money. But I’mma fill you in on a little something. The more you do for the community, the more they are willing to invest in your business.” “And what business is that?” “I like to think of my business as selling people their wildest fantasies, no matter their age.” “So you own a prostitution ring?” “No, not prostitution. An escort services for nothing but the movers and shakers of Motown. All my girls are dignified young ladies that are trained to give our customers the wildest fantasies at a high price.” “So you are pimping them out?” “No, child. Now of course I get my cut of 30 percent for housing, annual checkups, clothing, and food. You know, just about the same thing any mother would do for her children. But other than that, you make your own hours and you have your own choice of what customer you want to work for.” “So how many girls you have working for you, cause far as I can see there’s no one here but you, me, and that buff guy over there,” I stated, pointing at the man standing by the front door like head of security. “Oh no, child. My girls stay at another location that I periodically check to make sure they are abiding by housing rules. And if you join the family that will bring us to about fifteen girls.” “Before I make any decisions, I want to see the other girls and this housing location,” I demanded as I sat back on the couch, crossing my arms, testing Suga-foot to see what she would say. Suga-foot just smiled as she stood and walked to the back. She reappeared with her long shoulder length hair out of her rollers, fully dressed in a colorful Gucci blouse with jeans and heels to match. With her purse swung over her shoulder, she signaled me to follow her out to her pink Range Rover, and we was out. As we passed by a sign that said “Welcome to Bloomfield Hills,” the sight was purely amazing. People strolled about like they was rolling in dough and had no care in the world. Suga-foot tapped her finger on the steering wheel as she drove, singing to the loud ol’ school Funkadelic tunes. We suddenly pulled up to a big apartment complex that looked like it was freshly built. Pulling up to one of the buildings, we exited the car and walked up the steps, where Suga-foot punch in a code that unlocked the glass-plated door.