Braver (5 page)

I swept on my makeup with a practiced ease. The last thing to go on was always red lipstick. For me, that was required. There had been a time when I’d considered asking Mama to make it an official part of the uniform — that’s the effect it had on customers. They hung on my every word if my lips were red. However, I hadn’t wanted to tread on any of the girls’ creative licenses. Blue sometimes went with a satiny blue lipstick to match her eyes.

When I stepped into the hallway, the girls were ready, assembled and waiting for me. I felt a rush of affection toward them. There were many different personalities among us, but we really came together when we had to.

“Is this everybody?” I asked, doing a silent headcount. An even thirty. We were all here.

“Mama asked me to talk to you all about a customer complaint she received,” I continued.

“Ain’t nobody complaining in my bed,” someone called from the back of the group. I waited for the titters to die down.

“I just want to take this opportunity to remind everyone of a few protocols,” I said, trying to be as professional about this as possible. “Please shower between seeing customers. If there’s no time for a shower, at least wash up. Don’t try to fit too many customers in during one night. Lavish your attentions on one or two. They’ll give you as much money as three or four, I promise you.”

I paused after I repeated Mama’s advice to me, letting it sink in for the other girls.

“Make sure you’re doing everything — and I mean everything — to make the customer’s experience one he’ll never forget,” I added. “Get that hook into him, girls, and you’ll have a fan for life. Are there any questions or concerns?”

“Whose cooch is the stinker?” another girl hollered.

“That’s enough,” I said before the laughter could really erupt. “Please keep what I said in mind tonight and going forward. You know Mama won’t tolerate the same complaint twice.”

There were murmurs of agreement. Mama could be a strict taskmaster.

“Let’s have a good night tonight!” I cheered, effectively ending the meeting as the girls took up my cry with whoops of their own.

“I feel like you could lead us into war or something,” Blue remarked, walking downstairs with me. “You’re good at this kind of thing. I’d have just told everyone to wash their stinky bodies.”

I laughed at her, imagining the response the girls would have to that kind of angle. Not good.

“It takes a little bit of tact,” I said.

“I believe it, baby,” Blue said. “You’re going to have a good night tonight, I can tell. That hair is amazing.”

I touched it self-consciously. “Thanks. Yours is awesome, too.”

Blue had scrunched her blonde tresses into soft waves, looking like she was just coming in to work after a day at the beach. The bronzer she’d buffed over her cheeks added to the illusion.

Once we were down in the nightclub, Blue left to make sure the bar was stocked and ready. She wasn’t the only girl who tended bar, but she was the undeniable best. She was one of the girls who could artfully twirl the bottles while making the drinks. This was what got customers’ attention most often.

With all the girls helping, we readied the nightclub in a flurry of activity. This part was always fun, girls trading jokes and good-natured insults across the floor. When the customers flooded in, it was a lot harder to chat, even though we gossiped a bit with the bartenders, of course, and when we had to wait in the kitchen for dishes to come up.

“Showtime!” Mama hollered, the standard cry for when it was time to open the nightclub for customers. The band that we’d hired for the night launched into their set as customers filed in, paired up with the girls who would take care of them for the night. Mama greeted them as they came in. I noticed she was wearing a uniform just like us but with considerably more bling. “MAMA” was spelled out on the back of the blouse in jewels, and a glittering choker sparkled around her throat.

I cocked my head and smiled curiously at the party I was assigned. It was a trio of couples, which was rare indeed.

“Cocoa will take care of everything,” Mama said sweetly, holding her hand out at me. Six pairs of eyes looked at me appraisingly.

“Right this way, please, ladies and gentlemen,” I said grandly, slipping into my “nightclub Cocoa” routine. It was a lot different from how I usually acted. Nightclub Cocoa was flirtatious bordering on scandalous. She encouraged naughty behavior. She was down for anything.

I got the party seated in one of our larger booths. Everyone was dressed up, the girls in micro miniskirts and strips of cloth that barely covered their breasts. I could tell that at least two of the sets of tits in front of me were fake.

“Look at how hot everyone looks tonight,” I said, lavishing special attention on the ladies. If I ignored them, they would probably make snide comments behind my back, prompting their dates to tip less — or dissuading them from doing anything else.

“I like your hair,” one of the girls said.

“Thank you, baby,” I gushed. “Tell me if I’m being too forward. Your boobs are to die for.” I leaned forward and tweaked one through the thin fabric of her tube top, causing all the girls to shriek and giggle.

“Thank you, Cocoa,” the girl said, blushing, and I knew I had endeared myself to them for the rest of the night. I got their drink and food orders and put them in, watching Blue operate.

“What’s the deal with all those dames?” Blue asked, eyeing my ticket before grabbing three beers for the guys. She popped the caps off and wrapped the bottles in napkins.

“Dunno,” I said, shrugging.

“You think they know what we really do here?” she asked, placing three shots of Patron alongside three cosmopolitans.

“They’d have to, I think,” I said, picking up the tray carefully. It’d taken me whole months to master carrying the beverages without spilling them, but now I could do it without a second thought.

“Nasty surprise if they didn’t,” Blue commented, watching me balance the tray before walking across the floor.

The band was a rock band — also a rarity at the nightclub. Mama usually preferred swankier fare, big band and jazz numbers that she felt increased the nightclub’s classiness. She couldn’t deny the popularity of R&B and rap, though, and booked DJs for several nights a week to accommodate that set. I knew the rock band had to be one of her efforts to attract new clientele.

After I delivered the drinks, I stayed to cheer on the girls as they took the shots of Patron.

“I can tell we’re going to have a wild night,” I announced, collecting the empty shooters and setting them back on my tray. “What’s the occasion?”

“We don’t need an occasion to have a wild night,” the girl whose tit I’d touched said.

“I believe it, sweetheart,” I said, batting my eyes at her. “Now, lemme get your tapas so you can put something down on top of that tequila. All of you are so skinny and gorgeous! You probably never eat.”

The giggles told me my suspicions were true. These girls were going to be quick drunks. I could probably sell them even more dishes after they worked through the ones they ordered.

I got drinks for a couple more tables before collecting the dishes from the kitchen. At my recommendation, the couples had ordered the pot stickers, one the nightclub’s most popular tapas. The little dumplings came with a number of sweet and savory sauces to dip them in. I piled on an artful little plate of nachos as well as some bruschetta and minuscule little pulled pork sandwiches. The couples had ordered a wide assortment of goodies from the menu.

They all dug in immediately as soon as I distributed the plates around the table.

“Oh my God, this is amazing,” the girl said.

“Was I right or was I right?” I said coquettishly. “Stick with me, I’m telling you. I’ll make sure everything’s taken care of.”

This last part I directed at the guys, whose eyes couldn’t seem to get unstuck from my cleavage. This bra had been my finest investment, and it was repaying me many times over.

I got absorbed into my routine, which happened often. Fetching drinks, putting in food orders, and flirting with the customers all blended into a driving rhythm. My mind and body melded perfectly, making all the right decisions, saying all the right words. This was a magical time.

When I saw Mama at the table with the couples, I dropped what I was doing and came over. Her presence let me know that bedroom business was being negotiated. I smiled to myself. I’d done well, then, if I could inspire guys with dates to purchase time with me.

“Here she is,” Mama said, her eyes glowing as I sidled up. “You all excuse us for a second while we talk some business.”

I made sure my grin hid my confusion. Talk business? Mama knew me well enough to set the price and tell me to take the client up to the rooms. What was there to talk about with this one?

I followed her into her office and put my hands on my hips.

“What’s going on?” I asked. “Is one of the guys into restraints? As long as we have someone right outside the door, I’m fine with it. You know that.”

“This is new, even for you,” Mama said, raising her eyebrow. “You’ve never done a couple, have you?”

I frowned. This was new territory. We had so few female customers, and none of them had ever been interested in purchasing our services. Even in the years I’d been here, I’d never taken a female customer.

“Think you can handle it?” Mama asked.

“I can handle anything,” I said, mostly to hide my feeling of uncertainty. “I have to say, though, that I’m not much of a lesbian.”