Get In Where You Fit In
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THE MURDERING JOHN The hookers knew him as a regular, but there was a darker side that they were soon to find out about. Only then, it would be too late. Attractive, Missy King, 27, mother of two, was back on the Block, Baltimore's crime-ridden strip, by 11:00 p.m. on Friday, June 6, 2000, for yet another nights' work accepting "dates" from those who were willing to pay. She knew the streets well, because I took her cross country with me. Missy knew and accepted the risk and danger that came with the whore game. That meant whoring the filthy crime-ridden street known for attracting the worst possible human elements. It was a condition that went with the profession. The dates usually turned out to be cool. Most of the Johns simply wanted straight sex. Sometimes though, a customer might want something a little kinky. But my whores didn't mind. They would charge more for the kinky ones and tried to put on a convincing performance that they enjoyed whatever was done to them, as long as they weren't physically harmed. But, the guy who picked Missy up shortly before midnight, however, was far more than she bargained for. Missy had done business with this trick before, and he sometimes paid extra for a little bondage and dominance. Although he sometimes got a little rough, he seemed okay to her, and was always good for the money. But, I told her time and time again, from what she told me, I didn't trust him. I knew something was going to happen sooner or later, because he was a kinky mother-f------. But, Missy didn't listen. What she didn't know was that on June 6, this fellow had a much darker side to him, one that he hadn't revealed to her on previous dates. The police learned later that he was a sadistic pervert who enjoyed inflicting intense pain upon his female victims and was sexually aroused by watching them writhe in agonizing pain. As the van pulled away from the corner of Lexington and Calvert Streets, neither Missy or her co-workers knew she just stepped into a living version of her worst nightmare, one filled with violence, torture and ultimately, a horrifying death. Little did she know that she would be screaming for her life barely three hours later. As Dee and I sat watching the 11:00 news, a special broadcast appeared. There was a brutal murder. I sat straight up, because when something like this happens, I begin to hope that my friends are alright. My heart beats faster at that moment, because my family and pimp friends and whores flash across my mind. I don't know why every time I watch and listen to the news and hear that there was a murder, a chill goes through my body from head to toe. Dee told me to be cool. Sometimes I worry too much. But, I had to put on my clothes and go check out my whores, because something didn't seem right. I got on the Block at 12:30. Francell saw me getting out of a cab. He had Lamont and Rico with him. Silky, you coming down late? What's going on, man? I was watching the news, and they said there was a brutal murder.
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About the Book
Yes, it is time for me to share exactly how I really feel in your world and to identify what is real in my world. I look not for the constant cunning and devious minds that the majority indulges in, whether they will admit it or not. But when I realized that I did not like what I saw in the square life, how could I then let the same squares know that they were no different than me, and yes, in many circumstances, they were even more devious than the small sh-- I would indulge in. So as you sit back to read the words of a "player" that has seen the best of both worlds, understand that I can laugh at what I do, because I know why I do it. I don’t have to use subterfuge to chase after the ladies of the night. I don’t have to scam when I’m looking for that sucker, because the square thinks he has the edge, the fool that he is. So gather round, one and all, and listen to the wisdom of a man who has been, returned, and went back. You will at one point see yourself, as if my image was your mirror. But, as I laugh at such thoughts, read on as the pages pass by, for we will walk a little of this journey together.
About the Author
Even before I first contemplated writing Players Of The Block, I used to sit at the Inner Harbor during the early morning hours, sifting through many painful memories. People would pass me by, and seeing the smile on my face, they never saw the rage and hatred that permeated the soul of my very being. Where did I fit into this world, and how would I get there? Do you have an answer to this lingering question; can you actually answer where do you fit in and how do you get there? Finally, I realized that becoming an author was a reality that I accomplished, finding the motivation by witnessing the legit side of life scamper by, and realizing that I really did not want their lifestyle; I wanted what I longed for, the realities of street life, the ultimate of hell if for only one day. That reality meant answering many lingering questions of whether I should write another book, and if so, which direction should I take in its creative holdings to share with others who would read my thoughts and visualize my deeds in their own square and devious minds.