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Tricks of the Trade

Loose laws have turned Denver into an easy place for hookers to do business, but the fun's about to end.

"Bitch, I said get in that goddamn trunk before I peel your head back," Kid Rock tells her now.

Sobbing quietly, she shuffles forward, climbs in and curls into a fetal position. The pimp angrily slams the lid. There are two bullet holes in it, the only mars on the Lincoln's otherwise perfect exterior. Kid Rock put them there himself to prevent the women he punishes in this manner from suffocating.

"It's a damn shame," he says. "But sometimes you just have to trunk a bitch."

He turns the music back up. The bass line makes the world outside the windows shimmer.

I'm so slick I make hos turns tricks
Pimp University, class of '86
And I'm hard on a bitch, go ask my first ho
I was 17 then, now I'm 24
I'm a still be a pimp 'til the day I die
On every street corner 'til I buy a high rise

Driving up and down Colfax, listening to rap, with a terrified woman locked in his trunk, Kid Rock casually discusses the ins and outs of pricing the services of his prostitutes.

"My bitches don't get in a car for less than $100," he says. "That's the minimum charge. I ain't about to have them wearing out their knees, giving head for $20 behind a dumpster in some nasty ol' alley. My bitches are fine. They're motel hos. You take 'em to the motel, you buy one hour for $100, straight sex, and you gotta wear a jimmy hat [condom]. Half-and-half [oral sex followed by straight sex] is $150. Now, I tell a bitch, you freak a trick real good, you can make a lot more than $100, $150 at a time. You get round one out of the way, then if he wants another little taste of that honey, you make him pay for round two, round three -- you know what I'm saying?"

According to the pimp, Dominique and Twilight both work seven nights a week (he still has to force Asia to work just one). "They ask me for a night off, I tell 'em they should have been a florist." He estimates that they both turn anywhere from three to ten tricks a night, usually bringing in between $500 and $1,500 each, of which their cut is nothing. Kid Rock keeps 100 percent of the proceeds.

"I do keep control of all the money, yes, but you need to understand, I pay for everything. I pay for the nice hotel rooms we stay in. I pay for the food, for their clothes. I pay for them to get their hair done, I pay for the gasoline, I pay their bail, their fines, their lawyers' fees. I pay their medical bills, I pay for them to wire money home to their families every now and then. Shit, I pay for it all. Taking care of the money is my job. Making the money is their job. That's the way it's always been, and that's the way it is."

Nearly half an hour has passed since Asia went in the trunk. Deciding she's had enough, Kid Rock eases into an alley behind the St. Paul Health Center. He kills the engine, walks back to the trunk, unlocks it, raises the lid and offers Asia his hand, like a gentleman helping a lady out of a carriage.

"Now, you gonna check in on time?"

Asia wipes her eyes and straightens her flashy red sequined top over a pair of skintight pink stretch pants, then crosses her arms over her chest. "Yes."

"Okay, now, just handle my business, get me my money, and there's not going to be no more problem."

He pulls her into a hug, then gives her a little shove toward Colfax.

"I'm going to be watching you now, so don't fuck around," he calls after her. "And remember what I told you: Don't just stand there. Move around a little."

Kid Rock backs his car into a sentry point where he can scrutinize Asia pacing in front of a liquor store. Unlike Dominique and Twlight, who wear their provocative outfits naturally, Asia looks profoundly embarrassed, as if she just walked into a black-tie party wearing a Halloween costume.

"Watch this now," the pimp says. "Fresh young thing like that, she ain't gonna be out there but five minutes."

In fact, it's only two minutes before Asia makes eye contact with a middle-aged man passing by in a maroon late-model Ford Explorer. He immediately turns the corner and idles by the curb on the other side of St. Paul. Asia crosses over and talks to the driver through the window. After a short conversation, she walks around to the passenger's side and climbs into the cabin.

Her pimp is exultant. "Ha, ha! You see that? This track is money, baby!"

Kid Rock checks his pagers. Dominique has another $150 for him.

"This city is most beneficial to my financial endeavoring," he says, shifting his luxury car from park to drive. "In Denver, there ain't no business like ho business."


Last summer and fall, Denver mayor Wellington Webb's in box was deluged with letters and e-mails from scores of mortified constituents from the South City Park neighborhood.

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