“Look,” Dough spread his arms in an exaggerated motion as he shrugged. “All am sayin’ is this, if you really wanna get shit poppin’ then you gotta fuck wit’ me. I got it like that.”

He flashed his trademark smile, showing off his diamond-encrusted grills. The gaudy piece of mouth jewelry sparkled under the faded glow of the corner store’s light. Dough was always very particular about how he looked, especially when he knew he’d get to see some ‘fine honeys’, as he put it. Tonight he wore a freshly tailored long sleeve navy blue button-up, tapered slacks that showed just how skinny he was, a pair of checkered suspenders more for aesthetics than actual necessity, and a pair of expensive blue suede loafers. The man enjoyed getting dressed and feeling pretty.

It didn’t help that he knew he was easy on the eyes and he had the charisma and charm to back it up. Trying to game up a few girls at a time was a common enough occurrence with him. The only time he wasn’t trying to expand his stable was when he was on the job.

“Look ladies,” Dough stretched his arms so that the cuff-linked sleeves of his shirt slid up, revealing the expensive watch and bracelets he wore. “Me and my boys got a whole floor to ourselves. We just tryna have a good time while we in town and we could use some fine ones like yaw. Or, if yaw find them hella ugly, then yaw can have me all to yourselves.”

He winked, laughing as the women chuckled at his bravado.

“Boy, you really think you got it like that, huh?” the one on his left asked. She looked down at him, both literally and figuratively. She was the one Dough really wanted. She wore a pair of worn jeans and a cutoff t-shirt that showed off her toned stomach.

“I know I got it,” his smile deepened as he laid it on thick. “Watch, hold this for me right quick.”

He slipped his phone out of his pocket, quickly unlocked it, and laid it in the woman’s hand face up.

“Now, Ima show yaw a magic trick.” With all the flair of a goofy showman, Dough began swirling his arms around the woman's outstretched hand. He gyrated his hips and exaggerated his hand motions, waving them up and down in quick motions as if he were trying to will his phone to float.

“Watch, watch closely.” He winked at the woman on his right. She was about the same height as him and dressed comfortably, a pair of gray sweats hugging her curves accompanied by a loose tank-top. If Dough had to guess, she was either on her way to the gym or leaving it.

“Bladow!” His voice spiked excitedly as he leaned in and pressed the phone book icon. “There you go, now you can put yer number in and we can see ‘bout hooking up later.”

He smiled again, his eyes growing thin as the women laughed.

“You a fool,” the woman on the right covered her mouth with a hand as she chuckled. She reached over and took the phone out of her friends hand. “But, you kinda fine, so I might let you hit me up.”

“Shit!” Dough dusted his shoulders, flicking his hands daintily. “I know am more than ‘kinda fine’ but since you such a lil baddy, I’ll take the compliment.”

He bowed with an exaggerated flourish, right leg held out straight as his left leg bent behind him. His loose top-knotted hair fell around his face, accentuating his feminine features.

The taller woman laughed as he bowed, also reaching over to take his phone. “I guess you can get my number. We’ll see just how much you got it.”

She gave him a lascivious look over as he straightened himself out, sweeping his hair back. He saw the interest in her eyes and knew he had at least one hook in.

“Well just ‘cause you doubtin’ me, Ima make sure you have a really good time tonight.” Another not so subtle wink, this time slower. If any of the others had been around they would have slapped him upside the head already, they hated how flirtatious he could be. But they always seemed to enjoy the fruits of his labors. None of them enjoyed his ‘hard’ work more than he did.

The woman handed his phone back, her hand lingering a little longer than was necessary. Dough caught the subtle delay and knew he had his hooks firmly sunken in.

“Just in case,” He quickly tapped in a text and sent it. “That’s where we at. Top floor. When yaw get there, tell the concierge you were invited.”

The two women’s phones chimed simultaneously. A small, sinister smile crossed his lips as they both opened the texts. Using their real numbers, they’d never dealt with someone like him before.

“Damn, you foreal?” The shorter woman asked as she pulled up the address. “You lyin’, yaw ain’t got a whole floor there?”

Her eyes flared as she showed her friend the hotel that Dough and the others were staying at. It might be an off-strip spot but it's suites were still pretty expensive, let alone a whole floor.

“If there’s anything I ain’t,” Dough said as he pulled two rubber-banded stacks of cash out of his designer fanny pack. “I ain’t a liar. I never tell a lie.”

He placed one stack in each of the women’s hands as confusion and surprise raced across their faces. They turned the stacks of money over, eyeing them suspiciously.

“Hol’ up,” he held a hand up, heading off any objections they were looking to raise. “That’s a lil’ token to show how much I appreciate getting to meet you two fine thangs. See, I appreciate beauty when I see it. And I think yaw two so sexy that yaw should go grab something nice to wear for when yaw come by. We prolly gonna hit up a club or two, so get fitted out and join us.”

He smiled as he spoke. His predatory senses were tingling, he could feel just how deeply he had the two women hooked.

“Even if yaw decide not to come by, that’s my gift to yaw. For blessing me with the opportunity to talk to yaw.” He dusted his shirt off with a flourish, a wry grin tilting his moisturized lips to one side. “Ima be hella disappointed if yaw don’t at least come through and meet my boys. But it’s understandable, you feel?”

He motioned to the corner store as his speech continued. “Shit, I wouldn’t trust no random ass dude who approached me at a corner store if I was as fine as yaw. But yaw gave me a chance to spit my game, so am just showin’ my gratitude.”

With a final smile, he stepped off the curb and began walking away from the two women. He continued to serenade them with his honeyed words as he walked to his car. “But yeah, just tell em the floor when yaw get there. They’ll show yaw up.”

Without another word, he hopped in his luxury car that one of the junior members had acquired. A Dealership special, no filing of the VIN number or changing of the plates required. As he pulled out of the parking lot he caught the two women staring at the car in his rearview mirror, faces flush with confused emotions.

---

The car rolled to a stop in front of one of The Kalapu’s fronts. It was one of the weirdest stores any of the group knew about and they always sent Dough.

The windows were completely blacked out and plain with no signage on the door announcing what kind of store it was or whether it was open or not. The door was a heavy metal slab with no rail to pull on or a door handle to turn. It sat flush against the blacked-out windows, ominously staring out at any passersby. Above the door sat a single domed security camera, shiny exterior making it impossible to tell whether it housed a working unit or not.

Dough knew the camera was fake, the real cameras were embedded in the corners of the worn overhanging sill, tiny coverts that were positioned to catch every single feature of any who approached the door.

Leaving the car running, he stepped out. Pulling a ring out of his pocket, he approached the door and inserted it into a small, nearly imperceptible indent. A lock unlatched as the door clicked open. It wasn’t actually a heavy metal door, it was just metal plated on the outside to disguise it.

Dough waved over his head as he entered. His eyes ached as he was met with sudden darkness, the light from the afternoon sun flooding in behind him before the door shut with a soft click. Lights turned on once the door closed, revealing a long hallway. His sure-footed steps resounded down the empty hallway as he walked towards the old wooden door that sat at the end.

Creaking open, he stepped in with the ring held over his head.

“We got the missive. You got a message?”

A soft spotlight turned on, illuminating the middle of the room he had entered. A robed figure sat cross-legged with a coffee table sitting in front of them.

Dough scoffed as he approached the seated figure. “Yaw always on some weird-ass shit. What’s the message?”

The figure waved a hand over a deck of tarot cards, they flourished and put on a show. Impatience flooded Dough as he motioned with two fingers for the figure to continue. He hated any who tried to be as flashy as himself.

“Damn, always so weird. Hurry up!”

The figure flipped the first card. It was the Wheel of Fortune, reversed.

The reason the group always sent Dough was because of his history and superstitions. Growing up around spiritualists and readers had taught him a lot. Everything about the shop irked him but he knew the practices better than the puppet the Kalapu used for the front. And it was also why he was so good at reading people. He sucked his teeth at the card that was flipped.

“Next.”

The second card flipped was the Hermit, reversed.

Annoyance crossed Dough’s face. “Stupid ass major arcana. Hurry up. Draw the last.”

The last card drawn was Death, upright.

White-hot annoyance seared Dough’s vision as he pulled his gun from where he’d stashed it down the back of his pants. Three shots rang out, piercing the robed figure. The projectiles ricocheted off into the darkness as they passed through the figure.

The robe fell as if it had never been occupied by a body.

Turning and storming away, his face was dark and cloudy. “Fucking stupid asses, always gotta give us some cryptic ass messages and shit.”

As he walked down the long hallway he stowed his gun before pulling a small pack of cards out of his breast pocket. His personal set of tarot cards were finely made, commissioned at a hefty price from practitioners with old roots.

“This shit better not get annoying.”

Baleful red-tinged eyes watched him storm out of the building. The sclera of each eye was filled with irises, twisted with sadness and resentment as they watched Dough’s receding back.