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He was trying to get another rise out of me, but I wasn’t going to give it to him. This time, I chose to laugh right in his face and shake my head.

“Too bad you’ll never know. It’s kill worthy. I’ll kill your ass over it. You don’t know what it’s like to have killer pussy at home, and that’s why you constantly cheat on your wife. Your pride is shot. I can hear it in your voice that you never healed from Deja turning you down. You so used to flashing money and jewelry at bitches, that it hurt your ego when the one woman you tried to do that shit with, it didn’t work. Goofy ass nigga!” was all that I had left for him. I turned around, heading for the door.

He was yelling out all kind of shit behind me as I walked out too. I let the shit he was saying to me fall on deaf ears though. That was the only choice that I had because if I fed into the things he was saying to me, I was liable to turn back around and kill his ass.

Me and Jamal never got into it like this. We’ve had arguments and shit that’s almost led to fights, but I’ve never had to put my hands on him. I’ll admit that after his injuries in the NFL, he did change a little bit. There were still a lot of hurt living inside of him. A lot of times when I was around him, I felt like I had to walk on pins and needles with him, never really wanting to say anything to him that’ll tick him off. Even though he had a good career, he had this nice sports lounge, he was still living with pain from no longer being in the NFL.

I felt for him when it came to that. I’ve always been sympathetic about that. At the same time, I wasn’t going to allow that nigga to disrespect me or disrespect my girl. If a twenty-year-plus friendship had to come to an end because of disrespect, then that’s just what it has to come to. Until that nigga hit my phone, and he apologized for the shit he said, me and him never had to speak again. About my respect, I’ll take it to hell if I had to.

CHAPTER 12

DEJA MCCOY

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Look at you. You are so beautiful,” Amaya James cooed to me on the other end of the phone.

She was having her moment, fangirling over me, while I was having my own moment. She was just expressing her moment, while I was sitting here in this spa chair, with my mouth damn near hanging open, not able to believe who I was on the phone with. I have never been the type to worship anyone, or to think that anyone was above the program, but this woman right here was different. She was thee Amaya James. A fuckin legend. She was a musical genius. Three- time Grammy nominee. She had multiple platinum albums. My auntie put me on to her music back when I was a freshman in high school.

Amaya made music for us girls. For all the bad bitches around the world. The hustlers. The ones that could be having a shitty day and just needed that boost to remind us who the fuck we were. All her music was R&B, but I liked that everything wasn’t centered around a nigga. So many women get in the studio, and every song talks about a nigga, leaving you with no choice but to get put in your feelings. I liked that Amaya sang about motivating shit, and she kept the girls inspired.

Back in high school, when my aunt put me on to Amaya’s music, I listened to her album called ‘Lost Child’. Talk about an album having the power to fuck me up. My aunt knew to put me on to that album. She knew that it was something I was going to be able to relate to, especially because of the things that I was dealing with at home with my mom. The anger that I had in my heart for not having a father in the picture. Amaya focused that entire album on the unstable home that she grew up in. She talked about being in a rush to grow up, and how she spent a lot of her youth having grown woman worries. I resonated with that album. That album had the ability to make me feel like I was going to come out on the winning side one day. Now, here we were years later, and I couldn’t believe that I was on a facetime call with her. I sat in the spa chair, damn near fighting back tears.

“Girl… I don’t even know what to say. You’re so beautiful too. I feel like I’m about to start crying,” I replied, my voice cracking a little bit, as I sat here, feeling every emotion possible.

Seeing her on the screen and hearing her voice, it made me think about my teenage years. God, the shit that I went through in that house with my mom. You gotta understand that I had Amaya’s album on repeat. She played a vital part in my youth. All those memories were flooding my mind right now, and that’s why I’d gotten so emotional.

“No. No. I don’t want to make you cry. I promise that’s not the reason I called,” her voice was so gentle. Calm, and soothing. Just like in her music.

I’ve been running around since eight this morning, handling all my girl maintenance. I was scheduled to work tonight, and that’s why I was getting everything out of the way before heading in to work. The first appointment I had this morning was hair. My stylist removed my sew- in, washed my hair, and did a treatment. I needed my ends trimmed, so she handled that too. She washed all four of my bundles for me, treated them as well, and did another sew- in for me. She placed big, bouncy curls in my hair, but I wanted to preserve my curls for tonight, so at my appointment, I had her place them in pins for me.

After my hair appointment, I went over to Dream. Dream was the only person that I let do my facials, and all my body waxing. I went in for a facial, and she waxed me, damn near taking all the hair off my body. Now here I was, sitting in one of the spa chairs, getting a pedicure. I just finished with my nails. Ten minutes into me sitting here, dozing off in the chair, I received an alert on Instagram. It was Amaya reaching out. She sent me a private message. At first, I thought it was some kind of scam, but I saw that it was the same verified profile of hers that I followed.

She reached out, introducing herself to me, along with asking me for my phone number because she had a business proposition for me. Because she was someone that I loved, and since I wanted to hear what the business proposition was, I gave her my number. Within two minutes, she called me, and here we were. I still didn’t know what the reason was for her phone call, but I was dying to know.

“I know I didn’t really explain much of anything to you on Instagram. Someone on my team showed me your page yesterday and girl, I went down the rabbit hole. I’m literally obsessed. I’ve always had nothing but respect for dancers, and seeing the way you work the pole, demand the crowds attention, and have the confidence to do all those tricks, it really pulled me in,” she started. I sat back with a smile on my face, listening to her say these things.

“I’m preparing for my international tour. I’m opening right here in London the day after tomorrow. Because this is my hometown, and I wanted to give everyone here an opportunity to see me, I’ll be here for three nights. I’m not sure if you’re familiar with my song Women hustlers but⁠—”

“Girl, what? I go to the studio, and I warm up to that song. I can send you a video,” I cut her off, and when I did, she started laughing.

Staring at her, I couldn’t help but sit here and take in how beautiful she was. Her skin was like glass. Then, the way she spoke was sexy as hell. Her London accent made her words sound smooth, and pretty as hell coming out of her mouth.

We were about the same complexion too. Amaya had this tomboy/ girly look about her. She cut all her hair off. It was basically a low boy kind of style, but she colored it ash blonde. It was sexy as hell too. She had the pretty face to be able to do it and get away with it. I’ve never seen her in person, but just from following her on social media, seeing all her music videos, and interviews, I knew that she was super tall. Tall, and very slim. She could sing her ass off too.

I just loved everything about her. I typically didn’t like when pretty women would stamp tattoos on their faces, but she could get away with it. It wasn’t anything crazy, but on the side of her face, there was a broken crown. To me, the tattoo was beautiful. I’m sure there was some kind of deep meaning behind it too.

“Girl please send it to me once we hang up the phone because between watching videos of you on TikTok, and Instagram, I think I might have watched them all already. So, since you know the song already, then you know the message. I wrote that song with so many women around the world in mind. Women that do what they have to do to make their money. It’s a no judgement zone kind of song. A salute to all women if you may. When I saw your videos, you are naturally the woman that I envisioned for Women Hustlers,” she said.

I smiled again. I was wondering where she was going with it though. The music video had already been released for the song, so I wasn’t sure what she was going to ask me.

“I’m going to end the concert with that song. It’s one of my top songs right now. It’s going crazy all around the world. Originally, the plan was to sing the song on stage and have a slideshow of some bad ass women displayed on the screen. Change of plans. I saw your page, and I immediately went into planning mode. I see a pole on stage, with a beautiful woman doing her thing. I would like to fly you out to London so you can be a part of my show for the three nights that I’ll be here in London,” she finished, finally telling me the reason for her call.

When I say my mouth hit the floor, I wasn’t being dramatic. A woman whose music I used to sit in my room and cry to just asked me to come on tour with her for three nights. In this moment, all I could think about was my man and how he would often tell me that I tried to play big gangsta and not shed tears. I couldn’t hide my emotions right now. In this packed salon, I sat the phone in my lap, so I could pick my hands up and wipe away the tears that had fallen from my eyes.

“Awww. I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Amaya said to me. I was so embarrassed that I laughed through my tears, as I picked the phone up.

“The story behind my tears is deep. Your album Lost Child is my favorite album. Not just from you, but in the world. We share a lot of childhood trauma. I felt every lyric in those songs. You had a major impact on my life back when I was in high school, so to be on the phone with you and have you ask me to be a part of your tour, it’s just bringing on a flood of emotions. I can do it though. I’m going to call my boss and let him know. I know he’s going to be pissed because I was scheduled to come in this weekend, but he understands that sometimes I’ll have to take on other obligations,” I shared with her.

“Aww. Well, when you get to London, we’re going to talk all about it. So many women tell me that they were able to resonate with that album,” she replied.