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"Pimpin" ain’t easy!"

Jamul Smith, or as he is known in the streets...T-bone, had always respected the pimp life. The inner city of New York was a hard place to live and crime had an affect on everyone dwelling within its urban scope. T-bone had been a pimp since age twelve, his father was a pimp and oddly enough, his father’s father was a pimp. The Smith family tree was branching out its third pimp and T-bone wouldn’t have it any other way. According to him, the workingman was a sucker and a life of crime--especially a relatively safe crime such as pimping--made fast money and lots of it. He was the envy of the neighborhood and local haters had tried on many occasions to steal his underlings or as they would say, "free the bitches from his stables." Nonetheless, T-bone had designs of his own and was smart enough to save his money and recruit enough street tail to keep his ho’s on drugs and submitting to him obediently.

T-bone had a large, black Cadillac with electric windows; inside, tiger skin interior and all the stylistic trimmings of a true pimp had decorated the lavish vehicle. He also used some of his dirty money to install bulletproof windows to keep him safe from rivals that wanted his territory and women. Whitey, a Caucasian pimp, and Estobon, a sneaky Puerto Rican, had almost put an end to his days on the strip by hiring a few crack heads to shoot him down, or as they put it, "pop a cap in his ass!" At any rate, T-bone survived by ducking behind his front seat, but learned enough from this past experience to finally get bulletproof windows installed to ward off such threats in the future.

The dangerous ghetto was a place of mystery and madness. Each Night Cleo would leave her shabby apartment, which she shared with seven other ladies of the night. She was forced to work the street for T-bone and regularly dealt with sexually deranged johns. Cleo had long been separated from her family and T-bone had threatened her on many occasions that he would kill one of her kin if she ever went back to her family in Chicago. She didn’t have any family in New York, but as bad as times were, she did have friends. She was particularity fond of Chica, Kiesha, and Maria. Two were Latin girls; the other was African American, like herself. They had helped her deal with the daily strains that made life as a hooker and a drug addict difficult. Nonetheless, her friends, Chica, Gloria, Kiesha, and Maria were her best of pals – gal pals to put it plainly. They were all hookers – that much was true, but they still had feelings. Some of these feelings included an intense hatred and fear for their drug-providing, but very cruel pimp; a man they learned to call daddy T-bone.  

In the dark streets of the ghetto, business as usual was taking place. Drug fiends were busy stealing to get merchandise to sell to the drug dealers, which in turn paid off crooked cops and trigger-happy gang bangers to keep off their profitable trade routes. Hookers walked the night, risking their lives and engaging in all sorts of lewd sex acts just to gain a bit of money and drugs in order to keep their lives sane enough to live. Pimps too, were out and about as they drove their fancy cars through the urban nightmare, which reflected a society where debauchery fervently ruled. However, this night was different and one particular pimp would be the first in his trade to realize just how much change was going on.

T-bone parked his car on the corner and watched two patrol cars rush past him at high speed. He was about to open the door of his car and step out, but another three police cars speeding away with lights flashing and sirens screaming, had nearly run him over. He saw police cars in pursuit before, but never like this. T-bone watched the busy street as a pair of ambulances sped off after the patrol cars in close pursuit.

"Hmm, something big must be going down tonight", replied T-bone.

He was talking to himself, but this soon changed as he saw a familiar figure in the distance running up to him in a maddening gait. As the figure moved closer, he saw that it was Cleo, one of his employees.

"Bitch, was up with you girl? You should know not to run up on a niga’ like that!"

Cleo just bent over and caught her breath. Her clothes appeared ripped and her hair was tangled and messed. She was so tired from running the last three blocks on broken heels that she momentarily collapsed on T-bone’s shoulder.

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