Pooh and His Honey Pt. 1

Winslow Alvarez wasn’t new to pimping. 

Winslow Alvarez was true to pimping.

Pimping was in his blood.

On both sides.

His maternal grandmother ran a brothel on the East Kenton border for years before a john gunned her down.

His father’s side of the family ran a lucrative brothel back in Belize, and before that, the family legend was that his ancestor Mary Magdalene Broussard escaped to Mexico from Louisiana, learning the language and hooking up with an  attractive Afro-Mexican vagrant.

Winslow came by it honestly.

Nancy, his mother, taught him to hold his head high. It was a blessing to have the rap he did. A gift to be able to do what most men couldn’t.

Offer protection.

Sell water to a fish.

Sell pussy.

Winslow often wondered if his life would have been different had he knew his father. If his father was still alive.

His mother always started off speaking of him in reverence. The great Ulysses Alvarez. Fair skinned. Fine hair. The only man Nancy would ever love.

She thought she found a kindred spirit when they fought their way out of a lounge after Nancy slashed up the man who killed her mother. He saved her brothel from going under. He saw her.

Or so she thought.

She gunned him down herself. A week before she found out she was pregnant with Winslow.

That's how she ended up in the Birch.

By the time she finished her tale, her lip would be curled, and she’d level Winslow with a withering glare.

“If it ever comes down between yourself and the person you love, choose yourself. And then kill ‘em dead where they stand, so you never have to make the choice again.”

Nancy never would say what caused her to kill Winslow’s father. All she would ever say was that she didn’t regret it.

Winslow didn’t mind either way. Nancy brought him up in her image. Colder than ice.

Colder than the Arctic.

The Birch was his father as far as he was concerned.

---

As usual, Winslow couldn’t sleep.

Well, not really as usual.

That had been a new development.

He was used to surviving off a couple hours. Because his fellow Birch Babies were too heavy handed with the ladies, trying to guerrilla pimp, he ran his house himself. What good were his ladies if they had black eyes or torn up from niggas who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.

But that meant when more than a few johns were there, he had to be alert. His ladies, his honeybees, were his prized possession. At only seventeen, his stable was a healthy six, including his bottom bitch Veronica.

Though he was seventeen himself, he didn’t play that underage shit. Minnie, his youngest girl, was short and petite, but she was nineteen. Veronica was twenty-nine, having been on his dick since he was thirteen.

She’d brought in four of his current six girls, and kept them in line. Made sure they caught enough dates and kept money flowing in his old boarding house.

They were happy.

He was… content.

He’d be happier if Caroline Lott would give him play.

The rumor mill around the hood was that she liked older niggas, but he saw right through that shit.

Caroline and little Cass were good girls.

Caroline was untouched, and she carefully picked older cats that didn’t want the hassle of popping her cherry and possibly having her stuck.

Shit, Winslow would chance it. Caroline was a brick fucking house, and had a good head on her shoulders.

And contrary to the other niggas who try her, he had a rapport with her heart in human form, her little sister.

The only thing really stopping him was knowing deep down, Caroline wouldn’t be okay with his profession.

And if it came down to it, if she found someone else who wasn’t around a lot of women, she’d pick him. And Winslow didn't want to ever put himself in a position to be second to any nigga.

He just wasn’t raised that way.

Eric B. and Rakim’s I Ain’t No Joke played on his boombox as he rolled a spliff. He left Veronica in his room upstairs, sprawled out naked.

Having fucked with her way before he moved into this house the year before, she hadn’t turned a trick in a couple years unless her few regulars specifically asked for her. His mother swore Veronica was going to ask him to marry her the second he turned eighteen, but Winslow waved her off.

Ronnie knew the game.

No matter how much she held him down, he’d never, ever, wife a ho.

And the way he knew at least ten women right that second who would drop their draws with no strings, he didn’t see a point in cuffing anyone at all.

A weird noise bugged Winslow’s ears and had him turning down the volume on his boombox.

He turned it all the way off when booms sounded off on his front door.

He finished rolling his spliff and tucked it between his ear before grabbing his Mac-10. He heard the stairs creek as he crept toward the front.

“Go back to bed,” he rumbled into the dark, though Ronnie’s dumb ass wouldn’t listen. She’d stay right there at the foot of the stairs, ready to be his backup.

Winslow knew it wasn’t the police. He cut a sizable check so they’d leave him alone, and the knocks on the old wooden door didn’t sound that heavy. Not heavy enough for a grown man.

That piqued his interest even more.

He grabbed the key, turning it so softly he could barely hear the lock disengage, before pulling the door all the way open and aiming his gun out toward the porch.

“Please!” 

Winslow blinked, lowering his weapon just enough to see the girl trembling in front of him on his porch at three in the morning.

Her whole body was trembling, though her eyes were trained on his. A lone tear escaped her lid and rolled down her cheek before she licked her lips.

Winslow tracked the moment as she spoke.

“P-please… don’t shoot.”

---

It took the strength of every Greek god to keep Ayani Pinole from pissing herself. This was the second time in her life a gun had been pointed at her, and that was something she’d never get used to.

The snapping of a twig off to the side forced her to swallow the lump in her throat and find her voice.

She couldn’t afford to be afraid.

It wasn’t just her. Damn near hasn’t ever been just her.

When she saw who was assigned to her girls’ home this morning, she knew it was a sign from Zeus himself. One of the other girls told her that another girl a couple years back had told her about a place that offered food and shelter in exchange for work. She swore that you had to be eighteen, but Ayani looked older than her fifteen years, if you could go by all the male attention she got.

She certainly felt older. Exhausted, really.

Ayani licked her lips again and attempted to square her shoulders. “You Pooh?”

The man lowered his gun all the way. “What you doing here, girl?”

Yani’s lips parted at hearing the deep tenor of his voice.

She couldn’t see him too well, since the porch light was in her face, but with a voice like that, this Pooh had to have been attractive.

Yani let her arms collapse to her sides. “I, uh, heard you’re hiring. I can cook real good and clean and–”

The words died on her tongue when Pooh chuckled. Her brows furrowed, frustration bubbling at the sound.

“How old are you girl?” he crooned, tilting his head.

Yani wanted to lie. Needed to lie. It would be hard enough selling everything she comes with, and she needed this job. She couldn’t go back to the girls’ home.

But something about the light brown eyes that almost glowed in the shadows pulled the truth right out of her.

“Fifteen,” she whispered into the night.

Pooh tilted his head in the other direction as the seconds drug on. Yani’s heart descended lower and lower into her belly until finally, she nodded, lowering her eyes.

“The type of work here, you couldn’t stomach,” Pooh finally said.

Yani’s eyes shot up, glaring at him. “I told you, I can cook and clean–”

“I don’t need a maid. I sell pussy here, cariño.”

Yani’s eyes bulged to their limit as she began to stammer.

“Chill. I wouldn’t let you do it anyway. Wait here; I’ll be right back.”

Pooh closed the door in Yani’s face before she could reply.

---

Winslow took a deep breath, still staring where the beautiful girl’s face just was.

Beautiful and gaunt.

Warm brown skin, deep dark brown eyes, hair almost the color of her skin tone, making her brows nearly blend into her skin under the harsh porch light. But cheeks missing the extra fat girls her age still had.

She couldn’t have been eating regularly.

Even if she was eighteen, she was way too skinny to be on his stable.

Skinny and innocent.

Most of the girls that had cycled through his stable had already seen part of the game. Even the few he turned out were older, knowing the type of shit young Winslow was into, and were salivating at trying to prove themselves for him.

The girl on his porch, even being fifteen and darkening his doorstep this late at night, hadn’t seen how ugly the world could get, how ugly his world could get.

And for the first time in his seventeen years, he didn’t want to turn a bitch out.

That should have been his first clue to leave her ass where he found her.

“Who was–”

“Go to the fuckin’ room, Ronnie,” Winslow thundered.

Ronnie flinched at the tone of his voice, lowering her gaze before turning and fleeing up the stairs.

She was an incredibly jealous bitch, quick to put another bitch in their place and assert her status as Winslow’s bottom bitch. It was good for business, but it got annoying fast.

He shuffled to his office and unlocked it, sealing himself in.

Yawning, he walked to his desk, picked up his phone, and dialed his mother’s line.

“Winnie?” his mother asked, sleep heavy in his raspy voice.

“I’m finna be there in a minute with this girl. She need a place to stay and she young.”

“This long-term?”

Winslow looked around his office. “Shit, prolly. She showed up here talking ‘bout cooking and cleaning, so I know she don’t have nobody.”

“Since when did you start caring about bitches?” his mother inquired.

Winslow shrugged like his mother could see him, holding back a frustrated sigh. “She trophy material. If anything, I can break her in when she’s legal. I know you bored there all alone, old lady.”

“I got yo old lady,” she chuckled into the phone. “Bring me some weed, so I can go back to sleep. And I swear, Winslow, that bitch even looks at me wrong I’m throwing her ass out.”

Nancy hung up without saying bye, and Winslow docked the phone back on the receiver.

He put on his PF Flyers and grabbed two jackets before leaving and locking up his office.

Placing them on the stair railing, he made his way upstairs and all the way down the hall to his bedroom.

Ronnie sat on the bed like a drama queen, the dim glow of the nightstand lamp showcasing her beauty.

Ronnie’s face could start wars. 

“I’ll be back.”

Her face screwed up as she folded her arms against her ample chest.

“Where–”

Winslow was standing beside the bed immediately. Long fingers wrapped around her neck as he tilted her head upward, so he could gaze in her eyes.

Her breath caught, and an untrained ear would think it was from desire instead of fear.

But no, it was fear leaking from her pores, as his thumb caressed the soft skin on her neck.

“You forgetting your place, love,” he purred. Perhaps the most frightening thing about Winslow was he never lost his composure. He never had to. He’d been calm as a lake, even when slicing a nigga’s face off.

Nothing was ever worth his peace. 

“Don’t ever think your place in my life is secure. No one is above the program, not even you.” Winslow bent down and kissed her forehead before exiting.

His wallet and keys were in his sweats pockets since he hadn’t been to sleep yet. He grabbed the jackets and exited the house.

To find the girl had cloned herself.

Her clone was shorter, younger, chubbier. But a clone all the same.

And the way the older girl pulled the younger one behind her made his lips twitch.

---

Pooh strolled down the stairs with two heavy plaid jackets in each hand.

Yani pulled her younger sister Aree behind her as she glared at him. This was the moment of truth; would he still help her knowing it wasn’t just her?

Where Yani could keep her head down in the girls’ home, Areeanna Pinole, twelve going on twenty-two, absolutely would not. Being thicker than girls her age, people were more inclined to pick on her. 

It got to a point where she would just pick out the biggest person, boy or girl, and beat them down so she’d be left alone.

But then, all that meant was her getting shuffled around again. New place. New people. New reason to beat a bitch or nigga down again.

The sisters had been separated for two years. Yani had been in the girls’ home for six months, and she knew Aree would be out of there in three days max. And because Yani felt more like Aree’s mother than sister, she’d be right there beating bitches down with her.

It was better for them to run away.

“Put these on,” he said, handing them the jackets.

Yani took their backpacks from Aree so she could put hers on first, then handed them back so she could put her jacket on.

“I’m Yani,” she muttered.

Pooh nodded, then shifted his gaze to Aree, who was sizing him up.

The way she cut her eyes, Yani knew Aree didn’t care for Pooh. She was the type to only need a few seconds to figure you out. And up to this point, Aree only fooled with Yani.

“Aree,” she spat.

Pooh’s lips twitched, as he gestured down the street. “Let’s go.”

The streets were deserted as they walked to Kilpatrick Avenue. Pooh was closest to the street, with Yani in the middle and Aree lagging slightly behind them.

“You must not have no one if you trusting a nigga like me.”

Yani shrugged, knowing Aree was analyzing her every word.

“At this point, I have no choice. But I do trust you.”

Pooh jerked his head back. “Why?”

“You didn’t have to be honest with me. You could have done a lot of things… but you chose differently. That says more about you than you think. So I trust you.”

Yani chanced a peek at Pooh.

He looked away when their eyes met, licking his lips.

“My mama has a room in her house you can stay in.”

“She nice?” Aree asked. 

“She’s… my mama. Respect her, but don’t be a punk bitch, and you’ll be alright.”

“I got our documents so we can go to school, too,” Yani offered.

“Y’all from Kenton?”

“Mid-city,” Yani confirmed. 

Pooh grinned at Yani, and her heart felt funny for a second.

“Mid-city ain’t nothing like the Birch, cariño. It may chew you up and spit you out, too.”

“Carino? Her name is Ayani.” Aree frowned, saying the word wrong.

But Yani liked what he kept calling her. She wondered what it meant.

---

Winslow guided the conversation into prying minute details out of the sisters.

It was like pulling teeth, with the younger one Aree being ready to pounce, and Yani clamming up.

But it helped him avoid why he took to calling her sweetheart out of nowhere.

Winslow wasn’t a pet name type of nigga. I mean sure, he threw around mamita, but that doesn’t mean shit.

Not like cariño. 

He’d have to get that under control. His mother was a shark and emotions were blood for her.

One of the biggest rules in the game: it wasn’t no room for emotions. Especially for a bitch.

But Yani didn’t seem like a bitch. Not foreal.

---

Aree squeezed Yani’s hand as they rode the slow elevator that smelled like piss. After getting off on the third floor, they followed Pooh to apartment three-seventeen. He produced keys and unlocked the door, letting them in.

The apartment was decorated nicely and smelled like weed and incense. There was a woman sitting on the couch, smoking a cigarette. Her sharp eyes assessed the sisters for half a second before she grunted, inhaling the nicotine.

She gestured toward the hallway. “Door in the middle is the bathroom. Door on the right is y’all’s room. The beds are made up. Rest; we can talk later in the day.” 

Yani glanced at Pooh, who nodded, something unreadable flashing in his eyes.

The girls went into their new room, finding two single beds, a dresser, and a small television. After using the restroom and washing their hands quickly, they locked themselves in their new room. Aree dropped their backpacks and they both climbed into one bed like they were five and two again.

Aree took the side closest to the wall, while Yani was on the outside.

“You really trust him, Ma?” Aree whispered.

It had been just them ever since Aree could remember, to the point that she used to call Yani mama. She shortened it to ma when she was eight.

Yani closed her eyes to focus on the fireworks in her tummy. She couldn’t tell if it was a good or bad feeling yet. 

But she wasn’t lying when she nodded. “I do, Aree. I’ll get a job, save up… then when I’m eighteen I’ll get custody of you. Just two and a half more years.”

“That’s a long time, Ma.”

The doubt lacing Aree’s whisper felt like a gut punch. They both knew Aree couldn’t keep her head down that long. Not in the projects.

But she’d try. And that’s what mattered to Yani.

She squeezed her little sister. “These last two years passed. The next two will, too. Get some sleep.”

Aree sighed, snuggling in. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

---

“You forgot my medicine,” Nancy scolded.

Never mind that Winslow was sparkling up his spliff for them in the kitchen.

“I’ll bring it later.”

Nancy grunted. “So you can see the girl. You look like your father when he first saw me… You sure that’s a good idea? She looks like Bambi, a baby deer.”

Winslow shrugged, passing his spliff. “She knows what I do and didn’t bat an eye. Maybe she’ll surprise us.”

Nancy shook her head before blowing out smoke. “Went from breaking her lil’ ass in in a few years to caring if she knows yo business and judges you. She won’t be anything but your downfall.”

“Then you’ll be the failure, since I came from you,” Winslow quipped.

“You’re your mother’s son all right,” Nancy muttered, passing him back the spliff before standing. “If you forget my shit again tryna hurry to smile in that bitch’s face, it’ll be me and you. Goodnight, osito.”

Winslow’s lips twitched at the use of his old pet name. He was only little bear when Nancy threatened his life. 

Her customary head kiss came after, and then it was only him in the kitchen.

Part of him wanted to stay. Nancy could be a lot for anyone who didn’t know her. She wasn’t nurturing or affectionate like other women.

Though, something told him little Yani and Aree could handle it.

So why wasn’t he trying to leave? Why was he planted, smoking as slow as he could?

He inhaled deep, then blew the air out of his mouth.

“She’ll be here,” he told himself as he put out his spliff and stood.

Nancy talked a lot of shit, but she’d do whatever for him.

And whether she agreed with it or not, she knew he wanted the sisters here where he could get to them, so she’d keep them here by any means.

Relief settled at this realization, and only then, did he leave his mother’s apartment.