“Tee,” I scoffed. “Mike that got married today? You went back for him?”
“Yeah. He wanted one last lil’ hoorah shit. He’s about to be having sex with the same woman for the rest of his life.”
My eyes narrowed as I listened to her bullshit justification. “Are you serious right now, Tee? That nigga got married today! That’s foul as fuck.”
“I’m not the moral police, babe. That man was the one getting married. He owed shorty loyalty not me. He was paying like he weighed, so if he wanted one last fling, that’s what it was.”
“I’m not interested in his friend.” Abruptly, I changed the subject. There was no reasoning with Tee, and she was grown and men, men were trifling as fuck.
“Girl, stop acting like an old ass maid. That man is fine as hell. Shit, lowkey, I would have rather fucked with him than Mike.”
“What’s stopping you? You aren’t the moral police, remember?”
“Van,” Tee sighed as if I was exhausting her. “Just live a little. Have some fun. Everything doesn’t have to be so deep.”
“Nevaeh is waking up. I’ll call you back,” I lied. Nevaeh wasn’t waking up, and I wasn’t calling her back.
Tee’s mother and my mom were sisters. We had been close all our lives, and I loved her. But the older we got, we had two different personalities and liked different things, and that wasokay. I was too stressed to be going on adventures with her like we were Thelma and Louise. I needed to get my life together, and that shit didn’t involve a man at the moment. I hadn’t been in a relationship in two years, and I didn’t miss being in one. I was with my ex for five years and just like with Tee, I felt we were on two different pages. He would rather party, and smoke weed than pay bills. I hated the way people had normalized struggle and living paycheck to paycheck. Why the fuck did I want to be up in the club with less than $100 to my name? What was I celebrating?
My ex liked to accuse me of looking down on him or acting like his mother. After he said it one too many times, I chalked it up to he wasn’t ready to grow up, and I couldn’t be bothered. I’d rather struggle alone any day than to be struggling in a relationship because my partner lacked drive. Rushing to the bathroom, I showered and got dressed as quickly as I could. My timing was spot on because as I was brushing my teeth, I heard Nevaeh coughing. Easing into the living room, I peeked at her.
“Hi,” I greeted her with a grin, and she smiled bashfully. “You ready to eat?”
Nevaeh nodded, and I got her situated in the kitchen, before going back to finish getting ready. Removing my silk scarf, I inspected my head to make sure there wasn’t one hair out of place. I then ran a paddle brush through the twenty-five-inch ponytail that was attached to my hair.
When I was done, I sat on the couch and watched Nevaeh eat. Staring at her made me think about having kids of my own. It was hard for me to find a boyfriend that was worth shit. I couldn’t imagine it would be easy trying to have a man good enough to procreate with. I had enough trouble just taking care of myself. I couldn’t imagine adding a kid to the mix and not having support from the father. Just the thought left a bad taste in my mouth.
Maybe one day, I’d get it together. Maybe all the trials and tribulations I faced was God’s way of strengthening my character and making me wiser. Or maybe it was all just wishful thinking. Whatever the reason for my hardships were, I prayed I found a way out of them quick, fast, and in a hurry. Dancing was only a temporary fix because dancing for the next five years wasn’t an option. Fuck no.
CHAPTER 3
PEARCE
“What up, Dro?”I nodded at the bouncer standing at the door of my father’s strip club.
“What up, homie?” we smacked palms, and he moved his large frame to the side, so I could enter.
When it came to my father’s establishment, I never had to pay a cover charge, and I never got searched. I had to hand it to my father. He had some of the baddest chicks in the state working at his club. Women traveled from all kinds of places for a chance to have a spot at his club. Even on slower nights when it wasn’t packed, most of the dancers could walk away with a decent amount of money because the men that frequented the club weren’t broke ass corner boys. The cover charge alone was enough to make cheap men or broke ones turn around at the door.
I headed straight for the bar while nodding at every stripper that greeted me. I was one of the ones that didn’t stalk or harass them. None of the women had to worry about me touching them or trying to have sex with them even though a lot of them wanted to take it there with me. A nigga was handsome, and not only did I have money, but my father did too. It wasn’t my character tojudge a woman because she chose to dance, but I had a lady, and I wasn’t on that type of time.
I visited the club no more than once a week. Seeing topless women was so normal for me, it didn’t even make my dick hard anymore, unless there was a particularly bad one that I watched do her thing. Every employee there knew me. The bartenders made my drinks strong, and the cooks always piled extra food on my takeout tray. The wings at the club were top-tier, and so were the shrimp, and the chicken sandwiches. At that point, I damn near went to the club for the food more than I went to see the women.
“Hey, Pearce.” The bartender, Rajel smiled at me. She was engaged to a heavy hitter in the drug game, so she was polite but never flirtatious or thirsty. Her man was heavily connected, and she respected him at all times while she was at work. He came in so often, that most of the regular patrons knew to leave her ass alone because even when they didn’t see him, that nigga was liable to pop out like Candyman.
“What’s up? Let me get Azul. A double shot.”
“Coming right up.”
If I ordered a double shot, she was going to give me at least three. I didn’t plan on staying long, so when I finished my drink, I was going to order my food. While I waited on my drink, I turned on the barstool and observed my surroundings. A stripper that went by the stage name, Adore was getting ready to grace the stage. She was sexy as hell and though she wasn’t overly thick, her body was tone and littered with colorful tattoos which looked like works of art on her body.
Maybe it was because she was fairly new, but she was one of the ones that if I watched for too long, my mans would definitely stand at attention. Even though I knew that, I still watched. The way she rolled her body before squatting with her hands on herknees and moved her body to the rhythm of the song playing had me in a trance.
Standing, she turned her back to the crowd and sauntered to the pole on the stage. Adore wrapped one hand around the pole and circled it slowly before placing her other hand on the pole and climbing to the top. She wrapped her legs around it and let her upper body fall back, so she was pretty much upside down. When Adore grabbed the pole with both hands and slid down landing on the stage in a full split, I removed a bank roll from my pocket. One thing I respected was the hustle.
Shorty did more than twerk and gyrate on the pole, she put in effort while putting on a show. Standing, I peeled off two ten-dollar bills and twenty singles. While she performed, I tossed the bills onto the stage. I was contemplating throwing more when the song ended. One of the bouncers collected her money off the stage while I watched her hips sway as she walked away.
“You looking real good tonight, daddy,” one of the strippers whose name I didn’t remember touched my arm and gave me a seductive glance.
