Captain Save a Hoe Read online

  Vodka & Milk

  Captain Save-A-Hoe © 2017 by iiKane

  All Rights Reserved, including the rights to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Vodka & Milk, LLC Rights Department, 144 North 7th Street, #255 Brooklyn N.Y. 11249

  First Edition

  Book and Jacket Design: PiXiLL Designs

  Cover Illustrator Damion Scott

  Cataloging in Publication data is on file with the library of Congress

  ISBN 9780997146295 (ebook)

  Made of Music

  Under the smile of a player

  Beats the heart of a lover

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 01

  Chapter 02

  Chapter 03

  Chapter 04

  Chapter 05

  Chapter 06

  Chapter 07

  Chapter 08

  Chapter 09

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Prologue

  Philadelphia, 1984

  “Oh Baby, you are lookin’ good! Didn’t I tell you this look would be fabulous on you?” a young Georgie exclaimed, using the opposite end of the comb to fluff the curls on his “customer.”

  “Oh wait, this curl is too tight; it should hug your face…like that,” he said triumphantly, tongue hanging out of the corner of his mouth the way it always did when he was at work. “Now, look at that.” He picked up the doll baby and turned it to face the mirror, standing behind the doll like a proud father.

  “Didn’t I tell you? You are beautiful! Wait, what’s that? You want to kiss me? On the lips? But I’m Georgie Porgie; I make all the girls cry.”

  He took the doll in his little eight-year-old arms and leaned it back, just like he had seen Billy Dee Williams do in his mother’s favorite movie “Lady Sings the Blues.” He closed his eyes and puckered his lips, leaning in to kiss his doll when he was interrupted by a yell.

  “Georgie!”

  His mother’s voice echoed up the staircase. It seemed like she was right in the room with him.

  “What!” he hollered back, knowing she couldn’t hear him over the blaring music.

  He sat the doll down and headed downstairs.

  “Sky’s the limit and you know that you keep on. Just keep on pressing on…”

  The sound of D-Train’s “Keep On” filled the living room that had been converted into a bootleg hair salon, complete with two swivel chairs and three chair hair dryers. Two women sat under dryers and one in the swivel chair as Stephanie danced on long legs, swinging her curvaceous hips and waving a Newport 100 in the air. She bore a striking resemblance to Sade with her light skin and freckles sprinkled across her face, down to the forehead and all.

  “Whoa! This is my song! Georgie! Boy, I know you hear—,” she spotted Georgie at the bottom of the stairs. “There go my Baby! Georgie, come dance with your Momma!”

  “Dag, Momma, every time somebody come over, you want me to come dance,” he whined, trying to play as if he didn’t love it. He was a natural performer and never missed the opportunity to show off.

  “Boy shut up, you know you love it! Now, do the snake!”

  Georgie got in the middle of the floor and began curling his body back and forth to the women’s delight.

  “Now, Michael Jackson! Michael Jackson!”

  He grabbed his little crotch, bit his bottom lip, and then kicked his leg as he imitated the legendary pop artist. He wanted to do his moonwalk, but the thick rug didn’t allow for a smooth glide across the floor.

  “Look at him!”

  “He’s adorable!”

  “Now get nasty with it, Baby!” Stephanie urged, loving the attention that her son was receiving.

  Georgie put his hands behind his head, stuck out his pelvis and started winding his hips suggestively, looking directly at the women as he blew them a kiss.

  “Oh my God, he’s gonna be a little heartbreaker!” one woman exclaimed with a snicker.

  “He already is, ain’t you? Tell ‘em who you are, Baby!”

  “Georgie Porgie Puddin’ Pie, kiss the girls and make ‘em cry,” he sang, bobbing his head to the beat.

  The women could see why, with his smooth and creamy bronze complexion, grey eyes and long wavy hair that Stephanie kept in a ponytail, he resembled a young Ice T. It was only a matter of time before he would make those song lyrics a reality.

  “That’s right, my Puddin’ Pie,” Stephanie laughed. She took his hand and they began to dance together as she sang, “Georgie Porgie Puddin Pie, Georgie Porgie Puddin’ Pie, Georgie Porgie Puddin’ Pie.…”

  Ten years later…

  “Georgie, what you laughing at?” the girl between his legs questioned.

  They were sitting in the bleachers by the basketball court. It was the middle of the afternoon and the court had two half-court games going on at the same time, while a few people sat in the bleachers.

  Georgie was braiding the girl’s hair when a Jeep stopped at the light, blasting “Keep On” by D-Train.

  “Every time my mother hears this joint she makes me dance like I’m a monkey or something,” he chuckled.

  She giggled.

  “Aww that’s cute, lil’ monkey…Ouch!” she gasped as Georgie pulled her hair playfully.

  “I got your monkey swinging.”

  She jacked her elbow into his thigh.

  “Boy! Hey, Georgie, can I ask you something?”

  “You just did.”

  “Why do you like doing hair? I ain’t never known no boy that like to do hair…unless he’s funny,” she remarked.

  Georgie shrugged as he finished one braid and began another.

  “I just like for females to look good. A chick could be broke as fuck, but ain’t no need for her ever to look like it.”

  “I know that’s right,” she remarked.

  “Yo Gee! What’s good, Fam?”

  Georgie looked up to see his man K.B. stepping up the bleachers. He gave Georgie some dap then sat down beside him, letting his book bag dangle between his legs.

  “Oh, that’s all you see K.B.? With your ugly self,” the girl teased.

  K.B. smiled, revealing his deep-set dimples. “What up, Veronica, I was just about to speak.”

  “Mm-hmmm, whateva.”

  K.B. looked at Georgie, smiling from ear to ear. “Yo, you ain’t heard?”

  “What, you finally got some pussy?” Georgie joked. Veronica cracked up and K.B. gave her the middle finger.

  “Fuck you. I got the letter.”

  “You got the letter?” Georgie stopped braiding and looked at him. K.B. nodded, barely able to contain himself. “I’m going to muhfuckin’ Duke! Full scholarship!”

  Georgie gave him hard dap and a bump hug. Veronica reached out and gave him a pound.

  “Congratulations K! Now we can get paid! I’m your manager!” Veronica laughed.

  “Yo, that’s what’s up! You did your muhfuckin’ thing!” Georgie exclaimed.

  “Indeed I did,” K.B. playfully patted himself on the back. “So what do you say we celebrate by makin’ some quick money?”

  “No,” Georgie said following K.B.’s eyes across the court.

  “Come on, Georgie! Look at them two niggas over there,” he pointed to a couple of scrawny-looking guys rebounding each other’s missed rim shots. “They can’t ball worth a buck and they from South Philly! This shit’s right up our alley!”

  “I don’t feel like ballin’, yo.”

  “We ain’t ballin, we makin’ money. I’ma put up a G and we split fifty-fifty.�
�

  “Seventy-thirty,” Georgie countered.

  “Goddam, you a Jew! Fifty-five-forty five.”

  “Sixty-forty.”

  “That’s bullshit. Fuck it, sixty-forty,” K.B. surrendered.

  K.B. got up and marched down the bleachers as the two dudes wrapped up their game and headed towards him off the court.

  “Yo, I see ya’ll got game. Ya’ll tryin’ to ball for money?” he challenged.

  Another pair of dudes came walking onto the court, and the taller of the two spoke up. “We got next!”

  K.B. took out a wad of money and slammed it on the ground.

  “My thousand got next! Ya’ll tryin’ to match it?”

  The pair shook their heads and walked off. K.B. turned his attention back to his two targets.

  “So what up? Ya’ll pushin’ that fly ass Lexus, I know ya’ll got a G to play,” he smirked.

  One of the dudes, his bald slender face resembling Kevin Garnett, looked at his partner, who could’ve been his younger brother.

  “You hear this clown?”

  “Man, I ain’t tryin’ to hear that short ass shit. I got shit to do.”

  K.B. reached into his other pocked and pulled out more money.

  “Oh nigga, shit get longer. You ain’t sayin’ shit!”

  The two brothers looked at each other then back at K.B., sizing him up. They were both at least 6’5” and K.B. was 6’2”. Kevin chuckled.

  “Man, who you playin’ with?”

  “For ya’ll? I’ll play with anybody. Matter of fact…” He stopped and looked around as if he were randomly choosing though he and Georgie had run this scam a thousand times. “Him! That sissy in the bleachers doin’ hair.”

  The younger brother’s eyes got big.

  “You gonna play with a faggot?! Oh fuck yeah, we bettin’!” he exclaimed, then jogged past the bleachers towards a black Lexus with tinted windows and chrome rims.

  “Yo! Ay yo, Sweetheart! C’mere for a minute!” K.B. yelled.

  Veronica stifled a giggle.

  “He callin’ you, Sweetheart.”

  “I’ma kill that muhfucka,” Georgie grumbled, as he went into his act. He came down the bleachers limp-wristed and loose walking, his pelvis jutting out in a feminine manner. The brothers fell out laughing as Georgie approached them, stopping just below their chin.

  “Yo, can you bounce a ball?” K.B. asked Georgie.

  “Hmm, I can do a lot of things with balls,” Georgie replied sassily.

  K.B. had to hold back his laughter. “Well, all I need you to do is bounce and pass. You got that? Bounce and pass.”

  “What’s in it for me?”

  “Three hundred dollars.”

  “Shit, I’m down.”

  K.B. turned to the brothers. “Shoot for takeout.”

  The brothers won the takeout, but after that, it was all K.B. and Georgie. The brothers dwarfed them, but they already had their routine down pat. They weren’t aware that K.B. was an all-city point guard that was known for being virtually unstoppable on a real court, let alone the black top.

  “What you gonna do, huh? You can hang? You can hang?” K.B. clowned, as he dribbled from hand to hand at half court.

  “Kevin” stayed low in his textbook defensive stance, but K.B. shuffled his dribble, faked right and went left with a devastating cross over, blowing “Kevin” by like the wind only to come around his back to the very same spot with a laugh.

  “Damn yo, I’ma give you another chance, aight? Can you hang? Am I going right? Left? Right?” K.B. teased then double faked. As soon as “Kevin” stepped back he went up for a three-pointer that hit nothing but the chain-linked net.

  “Oh my god, it’s raining men,” Georgie teased, with an effeminate giggle.

  The brothers were vexed. The score was 6-0, going to 10 before they scored a point. “Kevin” threw his brother an alley-oop that he slammed. Georgie had to back away so his nuts wouldn’t be in his face as he hung from the rim.

  “You like that, honey?” the brother leered. Georgie walked away, flexing his jaw muscles as he tried calming his nerves.

  The brothers, seeing themselves down 8-3, started punishing Georgie and K.B. and set bruising picks as they went hard to the rim, busting Georgie’s lip as they came down.

  Georgie spat the blood and growled, “play ball,” the feminine act no longer in his tone.

  K.B. slid Georgie a pass at the top of the key. He faked like he was going to shoot a jumper, causing the brother to jump in an attempt to block it, and side-stepped them for an easy lay up. 9-3.

  Georgie took the ball out with the younger brother all over him. K.B. took “Kevin” to the top of the key and Georgie passed him the ball. When he couldn’t get around “Kevin,” he passed it back to Georgie with a wink. Georgie knew what to do. As soon as K.B. made a break for the basket, Georgie lobbed the ball in a high arch for the perfect alley-oop. K.B. caught it in midair then slammed the ball tomahawk style. The few people watching the game went wild. K.B. hung from the basket with one hand, his other on his nuts.

  “Game, muhfuckas!” K.B. barked.

  “Naw, fuck that yo, fuck that!” ranted “Kevin.” “That was a fuckin’ set up! Fuck that!”

  K.B. dropped to the ground and stepped up to him.

  “Fuck you mean, fuck that?! Nigga we won!”

  “Nigga, just what the fuck I said! I ain’t paying shit!” Kevin hissed.

  No one noticed as Georgie picked up the basketball.

  “Ay yo, just run it back, aight? Yo bruh, take out,” Georgie suggested to the younger brother.

  Just as the brother turned to scream on Georgie, Georgie slammed the basketball into his face. He wobbled on his feet, dazed and blood gushing from his nose, as Georgie moved in to finish the job. He caught him with a sweet 1-2 combination that leaned the bigger dude like a fallen tree. As soon as he hit the ground, Georgie was all over him. He started stomping and kicking his limp body. The brother could hardly take cover as the kicks came harder and faster.

  “You like that, Honey?” Georgie huffed between kicks, reminding him of his earlier words.

  While Georgie was taking off a piece of work on the brother, K.B. was getting it in with Kevin. As soon as Georgie had hit the brother with the basketball, K.B. caught Kevin with a stiff upper cut that rocked him, but didn’t drop him. Kevin threw a sloppy jab that K.B. easily weaved, then came back with a crushing kidney shot and a hook that dropped Kevin to the blacktop. The crowd went crazy seeing the two South Philly dudes being stomped into the pavement. K.B. and Georgie, both breathing heavily, slowed their kicks to a stop, leaving the two brothers bleeding and moaning on the ground.

  K.B. snatched off the brother’s shoe, took the money out then tossed the shoe aside.

  “West Side muhfucka!” K.B. barked, kicking him once more in the face.

  The crowd went wild, hooting and hollering as K.B. and Georgie dapped each other and then walked off, splitting the money.

  “Naw nigga, this fifty-five-forty-five,” Georgie protested.

  “I thought it was fifty-five-forty-five,” K.B. played dumb.

  “Quit playin,” Georgie warned, throwing a playful punch.

  K.B. chuckled and gave him another fifty as they mounted the bleachers.

  Georgie started to sit behind Veronica, but she got up.

  “You don’t want me to finish?” he questioned.

  “Not with those nasty ass hands, all bloody and sweaty and shit,” Veronica wrinkled her nose. “And y’all need to bounce before those dudes come back trippin’.”

  K.B. waved her off. “Please, girl! Look at ‘em limping off. They ain’t goin’ nowhere but back to the South Side!” he laughed.

  Veronica walked down the bleachers, tossing a look back over her shoulder that said “Okay, gangsta.”

  Georgie followed the roll of her ass with his eyes, but as she disappeared across the court, his vision fell on the Lexus. The two brothers were sitting in the car looking
at them.

  “Yo, fam, she might be right. Them niggas still ain’t left.”

  “Man, if you scared get in my pocket,” K.B. chuckled, fixing his money so every bill faced the same way.

  The two brothers were indeed looking at them, and Kevin in the passenger seat had a chrome 9mm in his hand. He grabbed the door handle to get out, but his brother held his wrist.

  “Naw, naw yo, not here. Half these muhfuckas is strapped. Fuck that, we’ll get they ass when they leave,” his brother suggested, wearing a crooked, bloody smirk.

  Kevin nodded, eyes swollen and seething. “Goddamn right we will, Goddamn right.”

  When K.B. saw them pulling out and leaving, he turned to Georgie with his lips twisted up.

  “What I tell you? Straight pussies!”

  Georgie heard his words but his gut was telling him something else. He brushed it off and instead stayed at the park with K.B., kicking it with chicks and shooting ball until the sun went down.

  “Yo fam, I’m out,” Georgie finally stated, checking his watch.

  “Let me find out Mom Dukes still got you comin’ in with the street lights,” K.B. cracked.

  Georgie gave him the finger as he walked off.

  “Hold up yo, I’m comin,” K.B. yelled, grabbing his book bag.

  As they walked off the court, several people congratulated K.B. on his scholarship.

  “Yo, I still can’t believe you ‘bout to go to Duke,” Georgie remarked.

  “What you mean, can’t believe? I’m the best point guard in the fuckin’ country!” K.B. boasted, faking like he was dribbling a ball then shooting.

  “Naw, I know that. It’s just…” Georgie shook his head. “…it’s crazy, yo.”

  “Yeah, I know, right? One step closer to the NBA and I’ll be ballin’ for the Sixers!”

  Georgie laughed. “I hope you get drafted by the Knicks.”

  K.B. shot him a mock ice grill. “Yo, don’t play with me like that.”

  They walked towards the corner, oblivious to the Lexus that passed through the intersection behind them, a light gleaming off the chrome on the nine in the passenger’s lap as they passed through the streetlights.

  K.B. laughed as they turned the corner and crossed the street. “Yo, you buggin! But on the real, what you gonna do? I know you ain’t gonna fuckin’ braid hair all you life,” K.B. taunted.