Chance(chapter +2)

finally, we pulled up at this place with a name like "harbor inne" or some shit.....the details are hazy in my mind, as my concentration was focussed elsewhere....i'm not sure if it was one of them "pull up to your motel room" type places, or if we walked in via the lobby--all i really recall is a little institutional-knee-burn carpeting of red hue and a handicap ramp by the front entrance.....by now, Chance(a good canine name, don't you think?) had really got up a head of steam, explaining the finer points of pimphood to Monica Fresh-Meat....
okay, first off, he'd drive ya to the corner and it was your job to go out and make money the old-fashioned way....you and the other girls did your thang and then after each trick, hand Chancie the money you'd just made, and go back out and do it all again....he'd take license-plate numbers, he said.....as comforting as that was, i'm pretty certain he did this for "personal future reference" rather than "information for the proper authorities in case of kidnapping"....after all, what's ONE bitch in the big pimp-business picture? somebody's gotta play Canary to his GoldMine, eh?
as a Pimp and his Bitches, Chance said, we was all one little family, with family rules and family punishment....he was Dad, and he was the king of the household. his girls were to do what he said "or else"(unspecified). [Much like all the documentaries i've seen on Mormon polygamists, in fact....only of course, mormon boys are white and the whole damn bunch of em are first cousins, hah hah hah....] then, just like the mormons, there was a "time served" sorta hierarchy among his women--his Top Girl was the one who'd been his bitch for longest, and she was the only chick who could push us other chicks around....she was his eyes and ears whilst Chancie was away, "recruiting" the likes of me, he said.....(note: there is none more dangerous, frustrated and psychologically-twisted than a despot's second-in-command. respect and fear her, especially if she has something to lose if you're "too" successful)
good ol'Chance also informed me that he was to be allowed a piece of ass, whenever and where ever he wanted, from any of his livestock....he even had a handy little one-word code for "bend over and take off your pants, bitch"....it was something like "drop" or "roll" i think....i can't recall offhand....he did a little Translatory Rundown for me, for all his special code-words....."give me the money you just made sellin your ass" was a little phrase like "square up", (or clean up or....? i was watching the guy's body language more than anything)he had a small laundry-list of catchy phrases to ease the verbal burdens of white-slavery.....one thing i recall quite clearly, however, was the way he kept on lookin me up and down, saying "yeah, you got a lot for me to work with here boo, you'll do good once i clean you up"....like i was a sickly farm-animal and he was doin me a favor.....after all, his girls' asking-prices were the same as mine was already, and i never had any shortage of willing clientele....hell, i was getting calls all day sometimes, from boys lookin to book....i was turnin folks down--my main problem wasn't one of saleability, it was one of schedule--what i needed was a John who'd pay me every time i ran out of crack, and a dealer who didn't go to sleep before eight in the morning! shit, i'm not real vain, but i was gettin a little insulted, here! the only way this dude could make me any better than i already was would be if he became my Fairy Godmother and i got the keys to that mercedes he was drivin!!
so i guess you could say i still wasn't really sold on the whole You Boss Me Bitch thing.....but i decided i'd play it cool, let my day unfold as it obviously was going to do whether i wanted it to or not....i still had one basic question: what was the upside? what, exactly, did having a Pimp provide a chick that bein self-employed did not??
also, i have to confess: part of me just could not believe that this short little black dude(however well-appointed and muscular)could REALLY have the stable of Fine White Bitches Workin For Him that he claimed to have....i wanted to get a look at these chicks for myself--i put the odds at 5 to 1 that they'd prove Bumpy....
[still, i've known enough sexy women with ratty-lookin little(much-fawned-over) weasels for boyfriends(and nearly as many other sexy women who WANT those same booby-prizes of manhood with an unrequited passion.....chicks are crazy, i don't care what they say)]
so, as we entered the anonymous little motel-room, my wariness was tempered with an almost bemused curiosity.....