He held out his phone and showed Tone and Erys the JoyChat. That flash of red getting Erys’ attention. She was back in the club. Nothing about that sat right with him.
“You right, nephew, it’s lit,” Tone spoke. “Erys, you driving. I’m faded.”
“I got the right mind to let you two go without me but I don’t want the county call,” Erys grunted, walking away to the exit. He fired up his truck upon approaching, grabbing the Waynesville Nursing sweatshirt she left behind off the front seat and folding it up neatly, he placed it in the center console.
Tone and his nephew hopped in a clash of noise.
“I’m about to kill this session when we get back. Big booty strippers always get me in the mood,” YN3Dub jeered. “Unc, you think I’ma get them to come to my kickback next week for the video shoot?”
“How you shooting a video with no song?” Erys asked. “Can’t be none of that shit you played me.”
The joy on the young man’s face fell. “Fuck you mean by that?”
“I mean you rapping about nothing at all. Blocks you never shot up, wars you never fought. We did all that shit. You got a different story to tell. This gangsta rap shit you got is empty and lame and I’m not putting you in front of MB with that. So have some real conversations with yourself about who you are and what you want out this shit. Playing gangsta don’t get you nothing but regret or pushing up daffodils,” Erys said. “Niggas don’t play about fake ass stories from young niggas that never did nothing. You ain’t never laid a nigga out. Never lit a block up, never had heat where ya momma laid her head at. That’s real shit. That’s shit we had to deal with so figure that shit out. And change that dumbass name. What the fuck is your name?”
Tone’s nephew looked at Erys in the rearview mirror. “Jamani. My momma calls me Dootie.”
“Leave that shit for your momma,” Erys said. “We’re calling you Jay moving forward.”
Erys had given him something to muse over that calmed the loudness he entered the truck with. Wild Flame, Erys entered and took a seat in the same booth he had nights ago. The perfect seat to see all the exits andher. How she spun around that pole had to be an art. An art that pissed him off. Not because she was making her money but because she was back here putting on a show for niggas who didn’t see her.
He groaned trying to shake that off of him but like the weight she wore, he had all these dumbass feelings he didn’t know what he should do with. Grief, lust, attraction, sadness, anxiousness, anger, control and the most prevalent one, annoyance. Erys watched Remedy smack a patron’s hand away from her ass and continued her dance. Another spin, another clap of the heels, and another grab of her ass.
Erys, coming out of himself, moved from the booth across the club. In a swift move the drunk patron was yanked from his seat, punched and slammed into the floor. The only thing keeping him from blacking out was the shout of his name.
“Erys!” Remedy bellowed, annoyance of her own.
He stood, finding her climbing off of the stage. Within reach to grab her, he did and began marching her toward where he remembered the dressing room.
“Let me go,” Remedy grunted, being pulled into the empty dressing room. “What is wrong with you!”
“Fuck you here for? I thought you were fired,” he stated, looking down at her.
She glared back up at him. “I need money. I need a job where I can work at night and be available for Ernie during the day.”
“There’s a diner on Piedmont with a help wanted sign on the door,” he quipped, still holding her arm. “You begged for this job back?”
“The diner won’t hire me, if you must know. And what I did to get my job back isn’t your business,” she shot back, pulling herself away from him.
“Got damn it, I told you if you came back here on that bullshit, I was kicking your ass to the curb and you weren’t dancing here again. I got a nigga with two teeth missin’!” MackLem bellowed, rushing into the dressing room with his fists balled up. “I should beat your ass for that shit.”
Erys turned around, using his body as a shield. “We’re having a conversation.”
“You that big nigga from the first time. What type a shit you two got going on?” MackLem questioned, his tone cooling when he came face-to-face with Erys.
“We’re having a conversation,” Erys stated again, flexing his jaw.
“Don’t call me begging in three days because you need your job back, Remedy. The answer is fuck no, you ain’t worth the trouble. And I’m docking your tips. All of them,” MackLem fussed, turning to stomp away.
Erys waited until he was gone to turn back and look at her. “Why you begging that nigga for a job? Where’s the money I left?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, I left it where you put it because I told you, I don’t need you.”
He palmed his face, attempting to get a handle on what was happening. The constant ringing of his phone tugged at his attention.
“Yeah,” he answered.
“Hi, Mr. Moore. This is Anna, from Piedmont Assisted Living. We have a situation,” the nasally voice on the other end of the line spoke.
