Authors: Sasha Campbell
Scandals (8 page)
“Bitch, don't you ever step to him again or I'll fuck you up!” she shouted at her.
The other dancers were changing costumes or standing around watching and laughing. Nobody seemed to care enough to come to her defense. Why should they? It wasn't their fight. Mine either, but there was something about Mercedes that always seemed to rub me the wrong way. Maybe it was the way she tried to hate on me whenever she got the chance.
I remember one time she had spotted me in the drugstore buying a pregnancy test. Before I had even had a chance to pee on the stick, rumors had already been flying that I was pregnant with Halo's baby. He called me, going off, claiming I was trying to abort his unborn child. I had to show him the negative stick just to prove it. Trust and believe, I cornered the bitch at the club, and while Honey guarded the door, I beat her ass like she'd stolen something. Now, you would think after that incident she would have learned not to fuck with me, but some women just never learned.
“What the hell's goin' on in here?”
Mercedes rolled her eyes in my direction. “I'm trying to school this new bitch that she can't be coming up in here tryna step on folk's toes.” Her head started moving while her neck twisted with straight-up attitude.
The new girl looked like she was bored by the entire conversation, and I must say I was glad to see she wasn't no punk. “Listen, chick ...” she began with a calm that was almost scary. “I already told you I didn't know he was your regular. It's not my fault he liked what he saw.”
Mercedes look like she was about to burst a blood vessel. And I couldn't help it. I started laughing my ass off. She wasn't used to anyone challenging her ass. Most folks knew she didn't fight fair and was quick to pick up a bottle and try to slice and dice your ass when you weren't looking.
Mercedes glanced at me, then back angrily in the direction of the new chick. “Do you know who the fuck I am? Huh? Do you?” she screamed and actually raised her hand when she said it. After that it became a shouting match.
At that point I should have just stepped back and let new girl handle her business. After all it was her problem, not mine, but unfortunately I couldn't help myself. It probably had something to do with Mercedes going out on stage tonight with the same pink nurse's outfit I had bought last week. I told you that chick's always trying to steal my shine.
Mercedes lunged toward Ms. Size Nine, but I grabbed her bony ass just in time and pulled her out of the chick's face. “Just leave her alone.”
“Excuse me?” Mercedes swung around yanking free. “Treasure, you wouldn't be saying that if she was fucking up yo grind!” she barked, then had the nerve to move up in my face like she was about to do something she would later regret. Trust me. I was looking for an excuse to mop the floor with her weave.
“I know that's right,” chimed in her sidekick, Sunshine. “You betta than me, Mercedes, 'cause if she tried to steal one of my regulars, I would shoot first and ask questions later.” That Olive Oylâlooking bitch needed to shut up before someone huffed and puffed and blew her ass down. Sunshine was lucky if she had two men who came and saw her on a regular basis.
“Hold up! I'm not interested in stealing your clients. Next time ask him to wear a sign on his forehead,” new girl snapped back.
“Keep talking shit and I'm gonna knock you the fuck out!” Mercedes moved in close and stood there in Ms. Size Nine's face screaming, and spit started flying everywhere.
I moved between them. “Hey, I say every
wo
-man for herself. If she's got what it takes to steal one of my regulars, then I say let the best bitch win. It's too much money to be made to be trippin' off one.” Mercedes turned her evil eyes on me. I crossed my arms over my chest and gave her a I-dare-you-to-fuck-with-her look. “Mercedes, quit trippin'. All of us are up in here to make money not start drama. Just 'cause you got shortchanged a few measly-ass dollars, you wanna act a fool when you know good and damn well you'll make that shit back before the night's over.”
wo
-man for herself. If she's got what it takes to steal one of my regulars, then I say let the best bitch win. It's too much money to be made to be trippin' off one.” Mercedes turned her evil eyes on me. I crossed my arms over my chest and gave her a I-dare-you-to-fuck-with-her look. “Mercedes, quit trippin'. All of us are up in here to make money not start drama. Just 'cause you got shortchanged a few measly-ass dollars, you wanna act a fool when you know good and damn well you'll make that shit back before the night's over.”
“She's right. It ain't even worth tripping over,” Sunshine mumbled from over on the couch. I should have known her instigating ass made sure she got a front-row seat.
Realizing it was now safe to intervene without getting punched in the process, House Mom came over and stood beside me. “I agree, Mercedes. You need to chill before the manager takes you out the rotation and sends you home.” Hearing that she was about to have her ass booted out of the club defused the situation. Money always spoke volumes.
I looked over at the chick. “New girl, go do your thang.” I motioned with my hand like a mother shooing her kids out of the kitchen.
Ms. Size Nine released a sigh of relief then nodded and moved into the locker room and the drama was over. Mercedes was so pissed that she stormed back into the club without saying another word. Others were talking and whispering while I walked to my locker. Most of them chicks had nothing better to do than try to start some shit just because they weren't making no money. That wasn't my problem.
As soon as the new chick changed her costume, she walked up to me. “Hey, thanks a lot back there,” she began with a shaky sigh, revealing how nervous she was. She glanced around before speaking again. “That bitch's been testing me all night.”
“Don't mention it. But you gotta watch your back around here. Unless you're used to this shit, you can't be coming up in here stealing regulars.”
“I didn't mean to.” And the expression in her large brown eyes said she was dead serious. “I was walking across the floor and he approached me.”
I smirked at the innocent look. “Mmm-hmm, I saw you up in the VIP tryna work it. Just watch your back. Mercedes ain't one to mess with.”
She got quiet and for a moment, neither of us said anything. I figured she was thinking about what I had said. I was just keeping it real. She needed to watch her back. Like I said, there's some cutthroats in this place.
Finally, she held out her hand. “By the way, I'm MonâI mean Deja.”
I shook it. “Whassup ... I'm Treasure.”
I guess she took my introduction as an invitation to sit and stay awhile. “I've seen you dance. You're really really good. You ever trained as a dancer before?”
I shook my head.
“Except for gymnastics and jazz as a kid, neither have I,” she admitted with a sigh. “I just let the music move me.”
“That's all it takes. The dudes up in here just wanna see that big ass shake anyway,” I said jokingly, tryna help her relax. “Where you from anyway?” Just hearing her talk, I could tell she was better than this. She seemed educated and smart.
Deja crossed her legs. “I'm from Michigan, but I've lived here for almost ten years.”
I changed costumes and watched the way she dropped her eyes when I stood naked in front of her. She was going to have to get over being bashful if she was gonna make it in this game. While I changed I took in her outfits, which screamed slut. She definitely had a lot to learn, but I couldn't say the same about her stilettos. They looked expensive and brand-new. I believed in keeping it cute. The second my shoes become scuffed and run-down, it was time to dump that shit at the nearest Goodwill and keep it moving. You can tell a lot about a woman by her shoes, and hers told me she had class, which was a good quality if she was gonna survive in the game. She had potential, and that said a lot, because I'd seen many wannabes get run out of the club.
Honey came around the corner and paused when she saw me talking to Deja. “What's goin' on? I hear y'all up in here starting shit.”
“Nah, not hardly. Just finding another way to piss Mercedes off.”
The new girl looked at me long and hard with worry in her eyes. Like I said before ... if she's gonna make it, then she's got a lot to learn.
11
Monica
You just don't know how happy I was when the deejay finally shouted, “last call for alcohol.” At the end of my set, I hurried back to the dressing room to my locker and changed into a running suit and tennis shoes. I had brought shower shoes, but after seeing the globs of hair in the cruddy shower, I decided to pass until I got home. I dressed quickly because I had seen the way some of the women had been eyeballing me. I don't know if they were jealous or gay. Reyna had warned me that there was going to be a lot of that lesbian shit going on around here.
“Hey, how'd you do?”
I looked up as Treasure stepped into the locker room. “I made over three hundred dollars,” I announced proudly.
She frowned and peeled off a red dress. “
Is that all?
As hard as you were working, you should have made more than that.”
Is that all?
As hard as you were working, you should have made more than that.”
I didn't know what to make of her remark. Was she laughing at me or disappointed because in her opinion I hadn't made much? Shit, as far as I was concerned I was walking out with more than I had come in with, and to me that said a lot. “I guess I'll work harder next time.” I felt like a kid who had just gotten scolded by her schoolteacher.
Treasure shook her head. “You need to learn how to work smarter, not harder.” While she slipped into a pair of slim shorts and a white T-shirt, I finished getting dressed and listened to her talk about the first night she stripped. The entire time she was talking, I couldn't help but noticing how beautiful her body was. She had perfect breasts that sat up high on her chest. They could possibly be fake, but if they were, she'd spent a hell of a pretty penny on them. Treasure also had the littlest waist, yet for a slim chick, she had enough ass for two people. She reached in her locker for a pack of baby wipes and rubbed one across her body. I would have to remember to bring some the next time I worked. I already felt dirty as hell and I was sure it was from sliding around on that nasty stage. I watched Treasure, taking in her every move, and listened as she schooled me on being the new girl. After she'd taken up for me with Mercedes, I had mad respect for her. Well, that was before she'd started putting down how much money I'd earned. It was my first night of work, and I was plenty proud. If Treasure said I needed to stand up for myself, then dammit, that's what I'd get ready to do.
“I don't think three hundred is bad for my first night.” I didn't mean to have attitude, but damn, I worked hard for that money. Do you have any idea how many laps I had to grind? One dude smelled like he'd peed on himself. On top of that my feet hurt and my legs were sore from all that twisting and turning. I was going to have all kinds of bruises from swinging around that damn pole. Stripping was more of a workout than any zumba class I'd taken, hands down. I couldn't even begin to imagine how sore I was going to be in the morning.
“Three hundred would be cool if you were really going home with that much.”
Was she calling me a liar? I felt myself getting defensive. “Yes, I am. See?” I held up a wad of bills. I knew exactly how much was there because I counted it every time I climbed off stage. I don't know why I felt like I needed to prove something to her but I hated for anyone to think I was lying.
Treasure laughed. “C'mon. Let me show you what I'm talking about.” She closed her locker and swung her bag over her shoulder. Curious, I followed her through the dressing room where everyone was changing and getting ready to go home. Treasure switched her hips over to a middle-aged black woman sitting behind a long table covered with personal items such as tampons, breath mints, and even baby wipes.
“Hey, sweetie. Thanks for breaking up that fight earlier,” she said and glanced over at me for a quick second before smiling up at Treasure again. “You have a good night?”
Treasure shrugged, then reached inside her pocket and handed her a ten-dollar bill. “About like any night. Mom, let me introduce you to our newest chick, Deja. Deja, this is our house mom, Ursula.”
She looked over at me with a soft grin. Earlier when Mercedes had jumped in my face, she'd tried to break it up, but Mercedes wasn't having none of that until Treasure stepped in.
Ursula's bleach-blonde hair was in long dreadlocks that she wore in a beehive at the top of her head. She had ashy dark skin that made her look like she'd had a hard life. There were heavy bags under her eyes and the insides of her lips were pink from years of smoking.
“Nice to meet you.”
“Our house mom's here to hem a costume if you need it. She's got supplies if you left your own. She's here to service the girls.”
I nodded. That was good to know if I ever needed anything.
“As entertainers it's our job to take care of our mom, which means we pay her ten dollars at the end of each night regardless if you use her stuff or not.”
“What?” My mouth hung open. Who the hell came up with that stupid rule?
I looked at Ursula, who was staring down at her hands. Her nails were chipped and worn down to the meat.
Treasure nodded. “Yep, it's one of the house rules.”
So in other words, pay up. I reached inside my pocket and peeled off a ten and handed it to the woman. Ursula took the money and grinned. “Thanks, sweetie. I'm always here on the weekends if you need me.” Need me? Even if I didn't need her I still had to pay her. There were almost fifty girls here tonight, which meant she would clock $500 a night without even having to take her clothes off. Damn, can I be the house mom?
We left the dressing room and headed through the club. As we walked, Treasure talked about the club and how the back offices were off-limits to dancers. It was weird seeing the place after it shut down. The lights were up and the large room was quiet. No loud music was blasting from the speakers.
“Did anyone tell you you also have to tip the bartender and the deejay?”
“What the hell?” This was getting ridiculous. “How much do I have to give both of them?”
“The bartender gets five percent and the deejay ten.”
“Why do we have to do that?”
Treasure sighed, lowering her head, then lifting it to look me in the eyes. “Deja, you've got a lot to learn. The deejay keeps the music rocking so the club stays packed. If you got a favorite song you wanna dance to, just request it early and he'll make sure you get it. Quincy knows Nicki Minaj is how I get my night started, and he makes sure to make that happen. The bartenders make sure the drinks are strong enough so these muthafuckas in here keep spending their money. And trust me, don't even try to stiff them 'cause they know how much we make.”
I didn't like it but I knew what she was talking about. I washed their hands, and they washed mine. By the time I got done paying everyone, I had less than $250. Damn. “I guess I didn't have such a great night after all.” After I paid my electric bill there would be just enough to fill my tank. We waved at the bouncer on our way out to the parking lot. A few feet away, Treasure stopped in front of a brand-new Camaro. Damn, obviously stripping paid her well.
“I hope we didn't scare you off tonight.”
I smiled and shook my head. “Nah, I think I can handle it. I'll just stay clear of Mercedes.”
“She's just hating.” She hit her remote starter and within seconds the engine purred and I could hear Beyoncé's “Ego” thumping from inside. Treasure lit a cigarette, then looked at me for a long moment. “You're really pretty, but ... you wanna work on your costumes.”
“What wrong with my costumes?” Reyna had picked out most of them for me.
She pointed her cigarette at me. “They scream cheap.”
“Cheap? I bought most of them at Victoria's Secret.”
Treasure tilted her head as she released the smoke from her lungs. “What I mean is cheap ... like slutty. Everybody can jump on the stage in a nightie. That's the way the ho's do it. You don't wanna come off as a ho. You want people to know you're a classy bitch. I'm sure you're here for the same reason as me ... to get paid, right?”
“What other reason is there?”
“You be surprised how many chicks work here to meet ballers and to make money so they can get high. Our clients can tell the different between the low-rent bitches and the chick up in here with class.” She took a long drag on her cigarette, then blew smoke in my direction. “It's all a game. And that's something you have to remember. Every time you step up in here, you need to leave who you really are at the door and step up inside as the most confident bitch up in here.”
I nodded as her words started sinking in.
She leaned back against the hood of her car with her ankles crossed. “Stripping is attitude. And if you have the right attitude you can make some serious money. Make them tricks come to you. Don't be one of them hos hopping across every customer's lap begging for a lap dance.”
“So what should I do?” I asked, digging for more details. Hell, if I was going to learn, it might as well be from an expert.
“For starters, that shit on your head looks fake as hell.”
Goodness, talk about embarrassing. This chick definitely didn't believe in holding punches. I reached up and slowly removed the long black wig from my head. I had found it at a beauty supply shop close to Reyna's Couture.
“You need a nice lace-front wig. Platinum blond would look damn good against your skin color. I know just the hair store to get it.” The way she said it you could tell my hair had been on her mind all night. “Also, you need a wardrobe with class. You wanna look sexy and sophisticated at the same time. I play up my assets and give a man something to fantasize about. Make them wonder what's underneath without revealing everything before you get on stage. You need costumes ... not pajamas.”
I couldn't help but laugh at the analogy. “Okay, I agree. I loved everything you had on tonight.”
I saw a flash of pride cross her face. “Thanks. A friend of mine has a shop off Leigh Street in Richmond. I'll take you there if you want.”
I would love to go, although I was sure I wouldn't be able to afford half the shit she'd been wearing. She had all kinds of costumes. Tonight she was a genie, and I about freaked when she came out dressed like Catwoman with tail and whiskers. Wherever she got her costumes, I definitely wanted to know. Unfortunately we wouldn't be able to go any time soon. I needed a few more good nights at the club before I would feel comfortable splurging on clothes when I had already bought some.
“I think with a little grooming you could be one of the hottest chicks up at Scandalous ... besides me, of course.” She laughed and I joined in with her. “Just keep telling yourself it's all about attitude, Deja, and you'll start to understand what I'm saying.”
“My real name is Monica.” Every time she used my stage name, I felt she was talking to someone other than me.
“Whassup, Monica, I'm Robin.”
“Nice to meet you, Robin.”
While she smoked, her eyes traveled the length of me and I figured she was sizing me up. Oh God! I hoped she wasn't into that lesbian shit, because it seemed like almost everyone else was.
“You got a man?”
I quickly shook my head. “No. That's the last thing I need.”
“I know that's right,” she said with a laugh, then asked the one question I was dreading. “You ever been wit a woman?”
“Hell no. I'm strickly dickly,” I said with attitude because I wanted to make sure she heard me loud and clear.
Treasure held her hands up innocently. “Hey, all I gotta say is don't knock it till you try. Hell, if the price is right, I'll do anything. Although I prefer a stiff hard dick myself.” She laughed.
That was a relief.
“You ever fuck for money?”
Goodness, was she serious? “
What?
Never.”
What?
Never.”
“Well, you need to think about it, because in this business you're gonna be propositioned.”
I swallowed. That was not at all what I signed up for. I just had to ask, “Have you ever had sex for money?”
Her eyes sparkled mischievously. “Shit, all the time. I know how powerful my pussy is. She's worth millions. That muthafucka pays for this car and keeps money in my pocket. I got several niggas on speed dial who'll agree, she's one bad bitch.”
I laughed. She was too much.
She tossed her cigarette on the ground and put it out with her foot, then looked at me with those amazing looking cat eyes of hers. Robin had a beauty that I couldn't even begin to describe. She kinda reminded me of Stacey Dash back in the day, only more exotic-looking.
“I think I'll stick with just stripping. Sex for money is just something I'm not interested in.”
She looked like she didn't believe me. “I used to say the same thing until I started getting my ass kicked every day. I will do whatever I have to keep a roof over my head and never have to depend on another muthafucka.”
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