The man eyes the bills in Akeem’s hand then shifts his eyes to Sunjiya’s three-inch heels. They aren’t the tallest he’s seen since working here but the bills sway his decision. The last nigga tried to jump the line with fifty damn dollars. This looks like two, maybe three bills.
Without saying a word to Akeem, he slaps hands with him and grabs the bills in the process. He nods Akeem and Sunjiya toward security and they step over. A few grumbles and grunts from the others in the line sound off but no one really says shit too loudly for fear of getting kicked out of line and not being allowed in at all.
One guard motions for Sunjiya to open her tote, barely shining his flashlight inside. Then he brushes his hands down the sides of her body. The other guard tells Akeem to raise his hands and open his legs. His pat down is quick, and like Akeem suspected, it doesn’t include his ankles. With his gun undetected and his hand on the small of Sunjiya’s back, they walk into the club and are immediately stopped for the cover charge.
“Welcome to Lazy. That’s one hundred,” the half-dressed lady behind the small window says.
“You accept cards?” he asks, already knowing they do. The website and a few reviews stated cards and money apps are acceptable forms of payments.
“Yes, and you can even get cash with it. Cash rules once you get out on the floor,” she says with a wink.
“Bet. Let me get two grand cash,” he says before sliding his card over to her. After processing the transaction, she places four stacks of bills in front of him.
“Five, one, fifteen hundred, two,” she says. When he eyes the motley stacks of ones, five, and tens, she sucks her teeth and says, “It’s all there. Do you need a bag?”
“No,” Sunjiya answers as she grabs two of the stacks and shoves them into her tote. He takes the other two and they walk into the club.
At first glance, they both have the same impression.The website needs to be updated.
The walls need a paint refresh. The floors, although polished, have major evidence of the many heels that have clacked against them over the years. Two of the beds against the left side of the club lean on one side. The club needs repairs that the owner, Ano, refuses to pay for. As long as the bitches bring in a crowd, he doesn’t care about aesthetics.
Chapter
Six
Within five minutesof finding a table in front of the middle stage, a server approaches. She is practically naked, wearing a red lace bra and thong. After placing tiny square napkins and a small, two-sided drink menu in front of them, she yells over the loud music. The bass is so pronounced Sunjiya feels it vibrating the legs of her chair.
“Two-drink minimum for each of you. What you want?” the server asks with a hint of unprovoked attitude.
Because he never drinks on a job, Akeem opts for a bottle of water but Sunjiya’s nerves are on edge. Her heart rate has increased and she has so much unwanted nervous energy. She needs alcohol, so she points to the picture of the delicious looking drink on the tiny menu, a Blue Motherfucker.
As if orchestrated, the moment their server turns to walk off, the bass drops, the minimal lights fade even more, and the DJ announces the opening act before the headliner. Lazy’s popular trio—Kandi, Cherry, and Honey, known as Sugar Rush—grace the three stages and start their seductive pole routine. Sunjiya watches them perform but Akeem surveys their surroundings.
The club is packed and the dingy floor is faded under the piles of money thrown. It’s a whole ass vibe. The music, the girls on the poles, and the sight of bills blessing the girls on stage and in each section is infectious. Sunjiya finds herself reaching into her tote and making it rain on Honey. She’s out, dressed cute as hell, and actually enjoying herself. She’s oblivious that the server has just returned with their drinks and a private dancer has stepped in front of Akeem.
“You want a dance, daddy?” the beautiful, thick dancer leans in and whispers into Akeem’s ear.
The goal of this visit is to check the spot out, figure out its connection to Tanjaya, and hopefully leave with valuable information that will lead them to her. To accomplish this, Akeem has to be strategic. While he can’t get caught up like Sunjiya, he also can’t appear rigid. He’s in a strip club with ass and titties in his face. He has to play the part of the average man here. After grabbing a few twenties from one of the stacks on the table, he places them in the trim of her thong.
“After my drink, bring your fine ass back and I’ll be ready,” he assures her in his sexy baritone and she feels his words roll down her spine.
“Oh, I’ll definitely be back,” she damn near purrs before walking off.
He taps Sunjiya lightly to let her know her drink has arrived. She turns and smiles when she sees the tall glass. The sparkling blue drink with a pineapple slice on the rim is deceptively pretty, disguising the shot of gin and double shot of tequila. However, the minute the first sip glides down her throat, she feels it.
“Shit,” she utters.I should have gotten something to eat before we came here.The last thing and only food she had today was their earlier meal. She didn’t even indulge in the complementary fruit and cookie biscuits on the plane. The lackof food in her belly doesn’t stop her from taking another sip though because her drink tastes as good as it looks.
On the stage furthest from them, Honey eyes Sunjiya. When she slid down her pole and landed into a split, a familiar side profile caught her eye. She almost lost the beat of the song when she saw her.
Tanjaya? Is that my girl?she thinks as the DJ transitions to the last song of their set.
Although her mind is filled with excitement, hope, and wonder, she manages to catch the beat and seamlessly get back into the routine. She transitions from her split to her knees then salaciously bounces her ass to the beat. Money rains down on her, covering the stage. She glances back over her shoulder and locks eyes with Sunjiya.
Shit! That is her!Honey thinks while smiling from ear to damn ear.
The last time she’d seen Tanjaya was four months ago and she had been bad, real bad. When she left and didn’t call or answer any texts, Honey feared the worst. She thought Marcelin had finally killed her friend. Seeing her tonight is everything, every-freaking-thing. As soon as her set ends, she gathers her cash and rushes to the back.
As usual, Miss Kat—Ano’s oldest sister who they affectionately call their dance mom—stands at the door holding a money bag. Honey stuffs her bills from the floor inside then pulls the additional ones from her body. Money gets stuffed everywhere by the patrons as she dances. She takes her money to her locker, secures it inside, then dries her sweaty body with the towel. Within ten minutes, she’s back on the main floor, heading toward Tanjaya.
