Authors: Dakota Knight
Biker Chick (16 page)
Chapter Twenty-two
So I knew to hold on until the wetness dried . . .
“Girl, I still can't believe Mrs. Phillips rides,” Dymond said to me a couple days after I saw our former teacher at the bookstore. “I know. Her ride was nice, too. I was kind of jealous,” I said. I was lying on Dymond's couch.
For the past couple of days, I had been on her couch feeling sorry for myself, although I did watch her two sons so she could get out and have a break, like going to Easton or to the movies. She was still young and pretty, and guys did flock to her. Even though she wasn't ready to get in a serious relationship again, she did like to date. All things considered, I didn't mind watching Nalen and Nomari. I didn't understand what it was like to be a mother, but after taking care of her bad-ass kids for a couple of hours, I knew she was having it rough. I can't lie, I sometimes felt like sending them two floors down straight to their grandma's. But Dymond was giving me a roof, so the least I could do was watch her sons.
When I finally had some time alone, I forced myself to count the money I took from the hiding place under the kitchen sink. I had fifty thousand dollars in my bag. I was so scared, I didn't even think about spending it. But I knew I had to do something, shit, I couldn't stay on Dymond's couch forever. I thought about getting my old hustle back, but too many people had caught on to the purse, DVD, and CD game. My old territory was somebody else's now. The thought of working a nine-to-five made me cringe. I thought about calling Mrs. Brock at the bookstore and telling her I wanted in, but the retail lifestyle didn't really appeal to me. But just when I thought I had played my hand, and I thought I was going to have to take the plunge, opportunity knocked, and I busted the door wide open to take it.
One day, I decided to go up to Cam's to pick up something cold to drink. That summer, it felt like the devil had taken over the weather, and Dymond's window air conditioner wasn't doing the trick. We were all sweating rivers. I told my girl I would get something cold for me, her, and the kids. My trip was pretty quick. The establishment had changed in the years since I left. Jimmy wasn't there anymore. Some Arab dude was behind the counter, frowning when I walked in. I picked up my selections and hurried to the counter. I checked out the bootlegs as the Arab dude checked me out. I smiled as I thought about the old days.
“Ten a piece,” the man said. This accent was thick, and I could barely understand him.
I picked up one of movie cases, featuring Denzel Washington's latest. I flipped it over and then put it back on the counter. “Maybe next time,” I said.
As I walked out of the store, the heat caused sweat to form on my forehead. It made me wish I had a block of ice to sit on. Just as I straddled my Ninja, I noticed a nice white Lincoln Navigator parked in front of Cam's about twenty feet away from me. I admired the Lincoln and was just about to rev up the engine when I noticed a woman who looked just like Lala getting out of the SUV. I squinted to make sure it was her. The smooth, flawless skin and long hair gave me my answer even though I couldn't see her pale blue eyes. She was wearing a pair of Armani sunglasses.
I balanced my steel and yelled her name. “Yo, Lala, what's up?” I hadn't spoken to her in months and it was always good to see a familiar face.
When she turned to look at me, she looked scared at first, like she didn't know who I was, so I got off my Ninja and walked to where she was standing near the entrance to the store. “Why you acting like you don't know me? It's your girl, Crystal.”
Lala's face softened and she smiled at me. She took off her sunglasses and said, “Hey, girl.” She spread her arms and we hugged. “I've been worried about you,” she said. Her voice was still quiet, but filled with concern.
My eyes started watering, mixing with the sweat covering my face. “So you heard about it then?” I asked as I wiped the tears and sweat from my cheeks.
Lala's blue eyes shifted, as if she was looking over me. Then her gaze returned to my face. “Girl, I heard a li'l bit, enough to know your life must be turned upside down.”
“I'm just so fucked up right now, no money, no hustle. It's like all I have is my ride, the only hard thing to remind me of the good life I had.”
Lala's eyes brightened and she smiled. “You lookin' for a way to make some ends?” There was a hint of excitement in her voice.
I ran my fingers through my hair. “Definitely, something easy and quick, if you know what I mean.”
Lala looked at the Navigator. “See, that?” She pointed at the Navigator. “I was able to get that working where I do now.” Then she grabbed my right shoulder. “And guess what else?”
“What?” I was curious.
“I get clothes, shoes, almost anything I want. I even got enough money to get me one of those nice condos downtown.” She stamped her foot and clapped her hands together. “Shit, and you won't believe this one. I even got a steel.” She started laughing.
Lala riding on a motorcycle? I couldn't believe my ears. But I was more interested in making money. I wanted to ask her if she was hookin', but I didn't want to offend her if I was wrong. And I was desperate. I just wanted to know if I could do what she was doing.
“So, what do I have to do?” I asked.
“You know that gentlemen's club on Livingston Avenue called the Doll House?”
My heart dropped. I knew then she was a stripper. I didn't think I could go there. My body was reserved for Ray.
“Before you get all high and mighty, listen to what I have to say.” It was almost as if Lala could read my mind. “I am not a stripper, I am an exotic dancer. I used to do it on the side until a couple of months ago, but now I'm full time. You won't believe the amount of cash I'm raking in. It's unbelievable. When we were younger, you used to always have the hustle, and I never thought I could make that money easy like you, but now, it comes in so quick, I can't even spend it all.”
Lala took a deep breath before continuing. “Now knowing you, I don't think you would dance, but we also have servers, kind of like Hooters girls. In fact, we call the servers âthe Dolls'. You wear a tight little shirt and shorts and that's it. All you would have to do is be nice to the customers and take their money.”
My mind was working. The job sounded easy enough but I am one of those people who thinks, “if it's too good to be true, then it probably is.” Then again, I needed some cash. And I knew I could make more money working at the Doll House than at Jam-Book-Ree!. It would be a starting point until I got on my feet.
“So no stripping, lap dances, nothing like that?” I asked.
Lala frowned. “You act like there's something wrong with that.” She twisted her lips and glared at me.
I shook my head and tried to reassure her. “No, no, don't get me wrong. I would never knock another woman's hustle, you know that. It's just that with everything with Ray, not being able to talk to him or anything, I want to feel like I got something waiting for him that's all his.”
“So you aren't interested in the job?”
I shook my head again. “It's not that. Let me think about it. In fact, what are you about to do right now?”
“Why?” Lala raised her eyebrows.
“Well, I was thinking. I came to get some drinks, and I'm about to go chill with Dymond while her mother got the kids. I was going to take some popsicles to the kids and then tip a few back with Dymond. We're all hot as hell in her place with that little air conditioner she got. I was thinking we could have a little Trio reunion. You know I can always think better with a little alcohol in my system.”
Lala looked at her watch. It was a black classic Movado. I used to have one just like it. It was probably sitting in some police evidence room or buried in the mess they left in our house. “You know what's funny? I was just thinking about you . . . and Dymond too. I just happened to be up at Hannah's up the street to pick up my Warm Spirit products and stopped by Cam's to pick a little something to drink myself.” She smiled and said, “You know I've got time for the Trio. Let me get something to drink and then I'll follow you.”
Before I arrived back at Dymond's apartment, Lala in tow, I had already made my decision. Even before we started pouring the drinks, I was getting the 411 from Lala about the club. She promised she would put a good word in for me so I could get started as soon as possible. Crystal Marie Sells was going to become a Doll. I planned to be the best damn Doll that strip club had ever seen if it meant I could make good money and survive.
Chapter Twenty-three
And I could touch the ground again . . .
The first time I put on my “Doll” outfit, I thought I had made a mistake. The shirt was so tight my tits couldn't help but stand at attention. At least the metallic DOLL printed on the front of the shirt complimented my hair. The shorts weren't any better. When I saw how little they were, I thought they were meant for a doll. I didn't know spandex could stretch so far. Those shorts hugged my butt so tight, I was surprised not to see my cheeks hanging out when I looked in the mirror.
“Dymond, be honest. What kind of doll have you ever seen wearing an outfit like this?” I asked as I twisted and turned in front of the mirror.
She giggled. “Girl, the kind of doll that's gonna get some ends. Your body is banging in that outfit.” “I can hardly breathe,” I said as I put my hands on my stomach.
“Girl, when you start seeing that green, you'll be fine.”
I slipped on the three-inch black stilettos that completed my outfit. At least I was used to wearing high heels or I would have really been in trouble. My shift wasn't that bad, six hours to start, but I would be on my feet the entire time. Let's just say I wasn't totally looking forward to it.
“Girl, you don't have nothing to worry about. Your makeup is on point, you look good in that outfit, and your hair looks good, too.” Dymond was trying to be supportive, but I still hadn't convinced myself I was doing the right thing. I ran a finger through my hair, which I had flat-ironed and parted down the middle.
“I bet most of the people there will think I'm wearing a wig.”
“Who gives a fuck?”
I laughed. “You're right. But I wonder what Ray would say if he saw me in this outfit.”
“Hmmm. I don't know what he'd be saying, but he'd probably grab you and take you to the nearest bedroom.”
The thought of Ray made me sad. Believe me, the last thing I wanted to do was work in a strip club, but I didn't have many options. I felt a hand touch my shoulder.
“Girl, you'll be all right. Trust me.”
“I do. I do.” I grabbed a pair of warm-ups and my jacket. There was no way I was riding down to Livingston with my ass hanging out. I took off my shoes and put them in my tote, along with my makeup, ID, and other goodies. I surprised myself by actually being able to move around in those shorts as I bent down to put on the warm-ups. Finally, I zipped up my jacket.
“Well, I guess I'm ready to go,” I told Dymond.
“You can do it.”
“I know.”
We said our good-byes and it was off to Foxy Baby. Even though night had settled in, the heat was still hovering in the air. I thought about leaving my helmet, but I liked the protection, especially at night. If my hair or makeup messed up, I would just have to refresh at the Doll House.
The strip club was located on Livingston Avenue near I-70, about ten minutes away from the Meadows. I arrived just before seven-thirty, and the parking lot was already full. The Doll House had happy hour every Monday-Friday, so I wasn't surprised.
I parked near the entrance, wedging my Ninja between two other steels. Two of the largest brothers I had ever seen in my life were standing near the two black doors leading into the strip club. I smiled as I walked toward the doors. They looked me up and down. One of the men, with skin and eyes like charcoal, and a thick, muscled neck frowned. His head reminded me of a bowling ball. He was large, and I could tell that his bulk came from working out. His arms were so huge that they strained against the fabric of his gray suit. “You here to work?” he asked, his voice so deep that I could barely hear him.
I looked down at the outfit and understood the men's frowns. I was still in my jacket and warm-ups, definitely not the norm for the ladies working at the Doll House. I lowered my bag to the ground and unzipped my jacket to display my tight Doll shirt. The other man, equally large with a tan suit and smooth bronze skin, smiled and nodded. His lusty gaze made me uncomfortable, and I started to zip up my jacket. I stopped when I realized that I would have to get used to men checking out my wares.
“What's your name?” the darker-skinned man asked.
“Crystal,” I replied before picking up my bag.
The men looked at each other and then back at me. The darker man extended a huge muscular hand and said, “I'm John.” He smiled, and his bright white teeth shone, contrasting nicely with his skin.
I took his hand and shook it. The light-skinned man then introduced himself. His name was Anthony. John opened the doors and said, “Welcome to the Doll House. Don't worry about a thing. We'll take care of you.”
“Thanks.”
As I walked between John's and Anthony's big, beefy bodies, I had no doubt they had everything under control. As soon as I walked through the doors, my senses were assaulted by loud bumping music, smoke, and male voices. The Doll House was dimly-lit, and the stage jutted out from the back wall, extending to the middle of the room. Lights flashed along the length of the stage. There were two strippers working the two poles on the stage, commanding guys' attention with their thongs and exposed tits.
“Crystal!” A female voice yelled out.
I turned toward the bar and noticed Ginger, the head Doll who'd interviewed me, motioning for me to come over to the bar. Ginger was tall and thin, with skin the color of burnt sienna. Her hair was long and straight, flowing halfway down her back. Her makeup was heavy. She had on shimmering silver eye shadow and too much blush. Her lips were bright red. I waved and headed her way, ignoring the stares from some of the men.
“Where's your gear?” Ginger asked loudly.
I patted my jacket and said, “Underneath here.” I leaned close to Ginger so she could hear me.
“Follow me,” she said, motioning with her hand.
We walked the length of the bar to the hallway leading to the offices and the dressing rooms. The noise level wasn't as bad in the hallway, with the exception of Ginger's stilettos clicking against the floor with each step.
“It's a hot one tonight, Crystal, so you should make good money,” Ginger said, her voice still as loud as it was at the bar. I assumed she was used to talking loudly due to the noise.
“Great,” I said, “I'm ready to work.” And I was . . . almost.
We stopped in front of a large door with a Doll's House sign plastered on it. Ginger swung open the door. The Doll's House was a large room with long paneled mirrors, lined with chairs and stations for the ladies who worked at the club. Several Dolls were in the room, applying makeup or adjusting their outfits.
“This is Crystal,” Ginger said excitedly. “She's going to be working here, starting today.”
Ginger's introduction was met with several blank stares and at least one frown. I wasn't going to play the “bitch” game, so I smiled and waved and said “Hello, everyone.” The ladies looked at me before returning to their tasks.
“Be nice,” Ginger said to the rest of the girls. She patted me on the back and said, “Okay, you can take the locker at the end for your stuff. Once you get ready, just come to the bar and I'll get you started. You remember everything we talked about, right?”
“Yeah,” I replied.
“Good, because you don't really have time to train. It's like I said, you take the drink orders, play nice for the fellas, give them their drinks, and take their money and tips. We have six bouncers, but our clientele are more upscale, so we don't have many problems here. Okay?”
“I think I've got it,” I said, trying to sound enthusiastic.
“Great.” Ginger patted me on the back again. “Well, I'm gone. I'll see you in a few.” She smiled at me before yelling out, “And ladies, you all need to hurry your asses up and get out into the club. These fellas can't wait all night for service!”
With that, Ginger was gone, leaving me with the rest of the Dolls. I walked over to a bench near my locker and took off my boots, my warm-ups and my jacket. I noticed some of the ladies glancing at me, sizing me up. It didn't bother me. That was the nature of women. I wasn't trying to make any friends. I wasn't going to be too nice or too bitchy. I was going to be me.
When I sat down in front of one of the mirrors to freshen up my makeup and smooth out my hair, one of the ladies finally spoke. She asked a question I was used to answering. “Is that yours?” She was pointing at my hair.
I smiled to let her know her question didn't bother me and responded. “Yeah, it's mine.” Short, and to the point.
“Where'd you get that color?” she asked.
“It's natural,” I replied as I smoothed it down.
“Yeah, right.” The lady said doubtfully before she switched out of the door.
Nice to meet you too, bitch
, I thought.
Nice to meet you too, bitch
, I thought.
I felt other eyes on me, but no one said anything else. I finished my hair and makeup, put my belongings in my locker and said, “See you later,” before walking out into the club. I sought out Ginger at the bar, but she wasn't there. I scanned the club until I saw her. She was talking to a couple of guys standing at a high round table at the far edge of the stage. I leaned against the bar.
“Hey, you!” I turned around. One of the bartenders, a thin guy in all black, thrust a round tray in front of me. “Get to work!” he ordered.
“I'm waiting for Ginger,” I said.
He held his free hand up to his left ear and tapped it, indicating that he couldn't hear me. He thrust the tray at me again. I took it.
When I stepped out into the club, I felt like I was going into another world. Never in a million years did I think I would be stuffed between horny guys and naked women. But I was always one to try to make something good out of a bad situation. I remember what Ginger had told me, and I mapped out a plan. Now I was ready to see if I could do it.
I looked for an empty table. It didn't take long to find one. I walked to the table where one guy was sitting alone.
“Can I get you something?” I asked, my voice as sweet as pure honey. I bent down a little so he could check out my cleavage, not that I needed any help with that tight-ass shirt.
“A Bud and a lap dance,” he replied, grinning.
Shit
. The Bud, I could do. But Ginger didn't say nothing about lap dances. That wasn't a part of the job description. I looked around nervously, trying to find Ginger. I didn't see her.
. The Bud, I could do. But Ginger didn't say nothing about lap dances. That wasn't a part of the job description. I looked around nervously, trying to find Ginger. I didn't see her.
“You going to hook me up or what?”
I looked at the guy again. He wasn't ugly. He was clean-cut, medium brown, not ashamed to show his wedding band. I knew I couldn't refuse him, no matter what. I just had to find an alternative.
“Let's take care of your thirst first,” I cooed before hurrying back to the bar.
By the time I hit the bar, Ginger had emerged. She was leaned over the bar with her more than ample ass sticking out. The thin bartender looked at me and I yelled out, “One Bud!” before going over to Ginger.
“How's it going, Crystal?” she asked, her hips shaking to the beat of the song bumping throughout the club.
“Hey, I've got a problem,” I said, pointing toward the man I had just talked to, “He wants a lap dance.”
Ginger's expression wasn't what I expected. She smacked her lips and said, “And?”
I leaned over and spoke directly into her ear. “I don't do lap dances,” I hissed. “You didn't tell me about that.”
Ginger stepped back, a surprised expression on her face. “You don't want it?” she asked.
I didn't know quite how to respond. Looking around the club, it suddenly hit me that I had been under the mistaken belief that only the strippers dealt with the men. But it appeared that the Dolls could get in on the action too.
“I just started,” I said, “I need to work my way into it.”
Just as I finished speaking, the bartender yelled out, “Bud!” I looked down at the drink and reached for it.
“It's your dollar,” Ginger said. “Follow me.”
We walked back through the club toward the man. Another song began playing and three more ladies took to the stage, teasing the men with their bodies.
“Got my drink?” the man asked, his eyes hooded as he gazed at me and Ginger.
I opened my mouth to speak, but Ginger was a step ahead of me. “Yeah, sugar, we got your drink, and my girl Crystal here brought you something special too.” Ginger's sexuality was pouring out from her. In one instant, the man seemed to forget I existed. She pouted as she took the drink from my tray and slid it over to my former customer.
“So you going to get down, or what?” the man asked.
“Oh yeah, Sugar, I got just what you need.” Ginger turned around and winked at me while she shook her ass in the man's face. I heard him groan. “Thanks for the tip, Crystal,” Ginger said as she lowered herself down to the man's lap. “I know I'm going to enjoy working with you.”
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