Skin Game. Lawrence C. Ross

      Keisha put down her bag and sat down in the chair.

      “So you’re going to be a Pimped girl?” Patra said, sitting down in the chair.

      “Supposedly. Did you know Sean was trying to screw me out of my money?” Keisha asked. “He told me that I was going to get two-fifty for the shoot.”

      “How much did you get?”

      “Five hundred.”

      “Five hundred? Fuck, do they need anyone else? Tell Marty that he can slap me on my ass again if they’ll give me five hundred for taking some fucking pictures.”

      “I’ll be sure to do that.” Keisha laughed. “But it went well. The owner of the magazine was there—Steven Cox. Ever heard of him?”

      “Naw. Was he cool?”

      “Very. Pretty handsome too. He gave me a ride on his bike. I thought I was going to die.”

      “You gonna fuck him?” Patra asked.

      Keisha leaned back on the couch and threw her feet up. “I don’t know yet. I’ve first got to figure out if it would be business or pleasure. I’d have to be clear on that before I made my move, and I’m not.”

      “Shit, why not mix them both? Fuck him and then get his money?”

      “Nah, if I was going to do that, then I’d start fucking drug dealers, and I did that shit once with Donovan and I ain’t going back to that type of drama. Plus, I see what it did to my mother. No, I’m going to figure out first if I want to fuck him. Then I’ll figure out if it is business or pleasure.”

      “You are a smart bitch, I’ll give you that,” Patra said admiringly. “Okay, handle your business, or pleasure if you choose.”

      “Right now, I’m about to handle a nap,” Keisha said, closing her eyes.

      “I’ll let you get some sleep,” Patra said, getting up from the couch. “Have a good nap.”

      Steven rode into the parking lot of Pimp magazine. He parked his bike and nearly ran up to the office.

      “So how does she look?” Steven yelled, throwing his helmet down on the floor.

      Jeff had downloaded the photos into the computer while Steven was taking Keisha to her apartment. Now he had them on the computer screen.

      “These look fucking great,” Steven said, scanning Keisha’s photos. “Jeff, you fucking outdid yourself with her shots.”

      “Hey, I wish I could take credit for them, but it was all her. You saw her. I mean, she did better direction than I could ever take credit for.”

      “No, I’ll take credit for it,” Ray said, walking into the room.

      Steven kept clicking on photo after photo. “She just eats up the camera. Absolutely eats it up.”

      He stopped.

      “This is what I want to do,” he said. “Let’s go all-out with her. I want Keisha on the Web site, and I want to put her on the cover. Ray, you done good, my man. Ya done good.”

      “She looks good on paper, but what about on tape?” Ray asked. “Isn’t that going to be the ultimate test?”

      Steven stroked his chin again, surveying the photos on the computer.

      “I took her home for a reason, y’all,” he said. “I know what I’m doing. I wanted to know where she lived and figure out if she wanted to get out of there. I’m betting that she does. And if so, I’m going to make it easy for her to move from Inglewood to Hollywood. Or at least our style of Hollywood.”

      They all laughed.

      “Keisha’s going to be a star, but even she doesn’t know what I have in store for her,” Steven said, leaning back in his chair. “Not one single clue.”

      He then turned to Marty. “Have you bought all the equipment for Pimp Video?”

      “I’ve got the cameras, and I’ve even set up the locations. All I need is the talent.”

      “I’m depending on my USC film school grad to film me some great videos,” Steven said, patting Jeff on the shoulder. “I want Pimp Video to be both classy and gonzo. I want tight pussy shots, cum faces, but I also want my girls to be able to speak well. This ain’t some dumb-ass nigga shit you’d find over in South Central. Keisha fits that bill.”

      “So how do you want to use Keisha?” Jeff asked.

      “I’m looking to bring her in slowly, tell her that she’s going to be the black Jenna Jameson, and then have her fuck the right guys. She ain’t gonna fuck just some Joe Blow niggas from around the way. I want names. And we’re going get some big dicks—the biggest in the industry. That’s going to be our specialty.”

      “When do you want to get started?” Marty asked.

      “In two weeks. That means I need to convince Keisha soon. But I’ve got that handled. Just find me some male talent.”

      “What about Mr. Bigg? We can use him for her virgin filming,” Jeff said.

      “I was thinking about him, but I don’t know. He’s getting a bit tired, and plus, he’s been in everybody’s video. He’s on my list, but he’s not the first. I’ll figure it out.”

      “Cool. Just let me know,” Marty said. “I’ll have niggas up the yin-yang wanting to fuck Keisha.”

      “Just make sure to get the right niggas. That’s going to be the key,” Steven said, pulling out a cigar. “Jeff, get these photos done, air-brushed—although I don’t think she needs much air-brushing—and up to production. We need to get this magazine out and then post the photos on the Pimp Web site. Niggas are going to be wild about this shit, and we need to take advantage.”

      “Will do,” Jeff said, getting back to the computer.

      Steven looked at Marty. “We need to have a conversation with Sean. I want to make sure that we’re clear that Keisha is ours now, and not his. And for that, I need you to contact Rosario de Silva and let her know that I may need her to come with us.”

      “For Blackie?” Marty asked.

      “Yes, for Blackie.”

      “Done deal.”