RED
I hated how I made a living. But as any smart muthafucka would assume, stripping paid the bills. It didn't earn me much respect, though, but I seriously didn't give a fuck. I had to do something. Life hadn't always treated me well, and I'd been a street runner since I was thirteen.
I left the home where my father abused me and my mother allowed it. Never understood why people had kids, only to mistreat them. Could barely take care of them, and then got mad when they didn't want to accept the abuse. I mean, fuck my parents. I hadn't seen or spoken to them in years. They had given up on looking for me, and I damn sure wasn't looking for them. Now, this life was my happily ever after.
My first real gig came around my fourteenth birthday. I hooked up with two college niggas who had their way with me. They paid me a few hundred bucks that night, and when I realized how much I could let my pussy work for me, I turned to more niggas who were willing to pay. I didn't necessarily see it as a negative thing, until muthafuckas started disrespecting me. I'd been beat, slapped, kicked out of cars . . . You name it. Even thought about giving the shit up when I turned twenty-two, but the money was too good. By then, though, I had stepped up my game. Made some vital connections. I was hired at a well-known strip club that many celebrities and important people frequented. Nobodies were allowed there too, but for the most part, I always left with big dollars in my pocket. Still, I hated the look of thirsty men who were willing to pay whatever, just to get a feel or a sniff of my pussy. I had minimized the niggas I actually had sex with, and the only reason I gave up the goodies was if I chose to. A nigga had to move me in a certain way, or he had better present me with some cash I couldn't resist.
As usual, the club was thick with thirsty niggas and curious women who came to see what was up. While I went by the name Red, my skin was chocolate and smooth. I wasn't like the other bitches around here, trying to look like Kim Kardashian with fake asses and hair extensions. My shit was all natural and was much appreciated by the men who couldn't get enough of seeing me. My curly, wild Afro bounced with each step that I took, and my deep-set eyes were dolled up with long lashes. I wore very little makeup on my flawless skin, but the shimmering, glittery lotion I rubbed all over me made me look like a million bucks. My lips were covered with gold gloss, and my curves were so perfect that the other strippers hated me. No one could touch the way I worked a pole, and my five-inch, crystal heels gave me much height so I could do one thingâlook even sexier. I strutted around the club as if I owned it. With confidence in my eyes, as well as in my walk, many hungry eyes were locked on me.
While sliding the crack of my ass against a pole that was behind me, my eyes scanned the overly excited audience. Thick smoke clouded the space, disco balls turned from up above, and glass mirrors surrounded every inch of the club. Two bars were to the left and right, and the circular, marble floor was where most of the dancers started, but ended up working the crowd afterward. I had just gotten started and suddenly spotted a nigga I had set my eyes on a few months ago. I was extra horny that night and had given him the goodies for fifty bucks. I loved and appreciated niggas who possessed good qualities before opening their mouths or wallets. There was something about him that moved me like no other. His hooded eyes were mysterious, sexy, serious as fuck, and luring. As he rocked my pussy to sleep that night, I stared into those eyes that made me melt with each stroke. There was a tiny cut above his smooth brow, and another one was right on his chin, where minimal fine hair covered it. He had a look that said, only if he wanted to, he knew how to tear some pussy up! He knew how to bring a bitch to her knees and make her crave for his big dick for a lifetime. He was packaged up very nicely, and as he gently fucked me in a stall that night, I was in a different zone. Normally, niggas were rough with me. He, however, took his time and stroked me like the same music was playing in both of our heads. Made me come all over him, but when it was over, he tossed the condom in the trash and smooth walked his way out the door. I hadn't seen or heard from him since.
I was so sure that he would return the next day or, at least, by the next week. But I hadn't seen him until tonight. He was sitting with a few other niggas, seeming to be indulged in a heavy conversation. He barely looked my way, and believe me when I say I was putting on quite a performance to capture his attention.
Maybe he'd forgotten about our little festivities that night. After all, I didn't give him my name, and he never told me his. When I attempted to kiss those thick, sexy lips, he turned his head to avoid me. I surely wanted to taste his tongue, but his dick had put on such a great performance that I didn't trip. I definitely thought about round two tonight, but then again, he appeared upset about something. He kept darting his finger as he spoke to the brother next to him, who, by the way, was called Nate. He came to the club quite often, along with the nerdy one who was kind of cute in his own little way. I wasn't sure what his name was, but the only one who had my full attention was Mr. Sexy. Even while rocking a simple white T-shirt, black jeans, and probably broke as shit, he still looked good and could get it at the snap of his finger.
“Turn around and make that pussy give us a smile,” a rude white man shouted.
He and several of his friends were up close, celebrating something. Since it had been raining in their direction all night, I was kind to them. I put on my happy face, and when I bent over and separated my cheeks, several bills slapped my ass. Some dropped to the sticky, slick floor. I looked between my legs, noticing that the one I admired had pulled himself away from the conversation to take a glance too. Then, with the blink of an eye, he turned his head back to his friends and continued to talk. I needed more attention to swing my way, so like a sexy, runway model, I poked my breasts out and marched across the floor to a rapper and his entourage. They were pretty hyped too, and plenty of the light-bright bitches in the house were surrounding them, trying to get paid. They hated to see me coming, but just like that, my flawless brown skin sucked them all in. I squatted with my legs wide open, as I formed an arch in my back and grinded myself in circles; the niggas went crazy.
“I know you goin' home with me tonight. No questions asked,” one member of the rapper's entourage said. Another claimed that I would, for sure, be leaving with him, but when one of the muthafuckas dissed me, I shortened my performance.
“Fuck that black bitch. That ho got an attitude, and she think she all that.”
I smiled at the bastard and showed him my middle finger. I
was
all that. I proved it to him when his boys dropped big paper on me that night, and I walked away leaving them high and dry. I'd had enough of their filthy money, so I left the stage and began to work the crowd. Slowly but surely, I maneuvered my way over to the table where Nate was. They were still involved in a deep conversation, but all of them appeared to be more relaxed now. I sat on the table, then got on my hands and knees. I crawled to the sexy one who was at the head of the table, presenting himself as the one in control. His eyes were locked with mine. With his finger resting against his temple, along with a blank expression on his face, I couldn't tell if he was bored or not.
“Don't knock over my fucking drink,” Nate spat with jealousy, as I crawled by him. He was so damn arrogant and rude, so I ignored him. I assumed he was having a bad night, because any other night, I couldn't keep his hands off me.
I approached the end of the table like a tiger looking for prey. Many men slapped my ass, touched it, paid to look at it, and then some.
“She a baaaaad muthafucka,” someone said. “Damn!”
“I know. I come here all the time just to see Red work her magic.”
I was face-to-face with the nigga who had the string between my pussy lips soaking wet. I clapped my ass, and when I smiled to show more of my pearly whites, he stood up.
“It's late,” he said, shifting his eyes away from me. “Holla at you niggas tomorrow.”
He gave everyone around him dap, and when the music changed, I picked up my cracked face and moved on to the next table. Minutes later, I saw Nate and his puppet leave too. I was damn sure disappointed that Mr. Sexy didn't recognize me, but what was more important than that was the money I had to make. I put aside my bruised feelings and resumed my business.
BONES
After I left the strip club, Nate and Theo followed. We stayed on the parking lot for a while, bringing our ongoing conversation to a close.
“I hear you loud and clear,” Nate said. “And I promise you that I'ma chill. You know I don't make promises that I don't keep.”
“Nigga, quit lying,” Theo said, then yawned. “And whether you being truthful or not, you seriously need to keep yo' hands off that girl. If you ever do that shit again, just make sure my black ass ain't around to see it.”
I reached out and slapped my hand against Theo's. I felt the same way. “That's what I'm saying. And even though I don't condone that shit, period, please make sure I'm at a distance. I don't have to tell you why seeing that disturbs me.”
Nate nodded, and so did Theo. I figured they were thinking about how the shit went down when I was ten. We were all good friends at that time too, and I remember how badly they felt for me.
Theo yawned again, and then shielded his eyes with black-framed glasses that put him on nerd patrol. We always teased him about looking like Steve Urkel, but he didn't mind. According to him, his personality made up for it, and most chicks appreciated his charming ways.
“It's been a long day,” he said. “I need to get home and into my bed, like now. If not, I'ma fall the hell to sleep on this concrete.”
Theo rode with Nate and left his car at Nate's house. They jetted together, and right after they left, I went to my car. I checked my text messages when I got inside, and saw that my grandmother had sent me a message almost three hours ago about bringing her some Black Walnut ice cream. It was the least I could do, but before I headed to the grocery store, I sat in the car and finished the joint I had hit earlier. I slightly turned the ignition to let the rap music play, but when I attempted to start my car, it didn't budge. It was an old BMW that had given me its share of trouble in the past. This time, I chalked it up as the battery being fucked up because of the radio. I had a charger in the trunk, so I reached for it, then lifted the hood. I sat back in the car for a while, giving the charger time to give the battery some juice. I didn't have another joint to smoke, so I reached for my cigs in the glove compartment and lit one. I watched as many people from the club left, and others came. This was definitely the place to be, but like Theo, I was ready to get home and claim my comfortable bed.
A few more minutes had passed, so I figured the battery had been charged. I tapped my foot on the accelerator, but still nothing happened.
“Damn,” I said, then sighed as I got out of the car and slammed the door. It had gotten kind of chilly outside, and the night breeze was cutting through my T-shirt. The cigarette dangled from my mouth as I looked under the hood to see what was wrong with my car. I couldn't see much, so I went back into the trunk to get a flashlight. I used it to see under the hood, and as soon as I heard several fools laughing, I turned my head.
“Do you bitches need a ride?” one of the white men said. He wasn't talking to me. He was talking to Red and another stripper who were walking a few feet in front of the man and his friends.
Red waved them off, but kept smiling. “No, thank you.”
The other stripper didn't reply. She kept it moving, so the man rushed up to Red and grabbed her arm. The punk-ass security guard was standing right by the door. I couldn't believe that coward didn't do shit. I took a few more hits from the cigarette and watched.
“Release me,” Red said as she attempted to jerk her arm away from the man. He was overly aggressive, and when he released her arm, he grabbed a chunk of her ass and squeezed it.
“Come here, you pretty bitch. Why are you ignoring us now?”
Red was trying to compromise with the man, but the other stripper kept telling her to come on. I knew a trouble-making fool when I saw one, and from where I was looking at it, Red was about to find herself in something she couldn't get out of.
I stepped away from my car and headed toward the scene that appeared to be turning ugly. “She said leave her the fuck alone,” I said, then flicked my cigarette over to the side. The drunk, aggressive man ignored me, but the others stood back and didn't say shit.
“I can handle this fool,” Red snapped at me, like I was the one who had done something to her. “Gon' about your business and move right along.”
“Yeah,” he slurred. “She can handle me, so take your ass back to your car and leave us the hell alone.”
“Cool,” I said, then turned around. The other stripper was already at her car, but seconds later, a glass bottle flew past me and crashed on the ground. I take it that the bottle was supposed to hit me, but missed. The drunk muthafucka laughed, but not for long. I charged at him, and before anyone knew it, I had him in a headlock with his arms twisted like a pretzel behind his back. The other dumb-ass fools, his friends I suspected, ran like bitches. Red, however, asked me to be easy on her customer. The security guard didn't do shit but go back inside, pretending as if he hadn't seen a thing.
“Why you throw that bottle at me?” I twisted and turned the man's arm. He sobered up real quick and yelled how sorry he was.
“I . . . I was fucked-up, man. Fu . . . Forgive me, please.”
Normally, I didn't let shit like this slide. I had to break something on this fool, so I opted for his wrist. I wrestled his hand back as far as it could go. He struggled to push back, but within a matter of seconds, his hand dangled off his wrist. He cried out and ran off, holding it in front of him. I was so irritated by the fool that I chased after him and punted him in the ass with my foot.
“Really?” Red barked as she watched the man running faster to get away from me. “Did you have to go that far? He was one of my good-paying customers, and you done fucked up my money.”
When bitches talked silly shit, I ignored them. Walked right past her without saying a word. She followed behind me as I went to my car and attempted to start it again. No luck.
“Fuck,” I said, hitting the steering wheel. I looked at Red who had a smirk on her face.
“Car trouble, huh? I guess you'll be needing a ride.”
I could have called Nate to come back and get me, but what the hell? “If it's not a problem,” I said.
“No problem, especially since you out here protecting me and everything. You broke the shit out of his wrist. How'd you do that so fast?”
Wasn't my fault if she wasn't watching. “I was protecting myself. Not you.”
I closed the hood and locked up my car. Red's car was parked at the side of the building where there weren't many lights. There was a nearby exit door too. I wondered why she hadn't used it.
“Before you ask, the owner has chains on that door so nobody can slip inside. The front entrance is the only way in and the only way out.”
I shrugged, then got inside of her car. Before driving off, she put a brown paper bag in the glove compartment, and then looked in the rearview mirror to slide some gloss on her lips.
“Where do you live?” she said. “I hope not far because I do not feel like stopping to get gas.”
“I'll put my address in your GPS device. You'll definitely have to stop to get gas, and I need for you to stop at the grocery store too.”
She tied a colorful silk scarf around her wild hair, then responded to my request. “Nigga, you got some gas money? And I assure you that I won't be stopping at no grocery store.”
I reached for my wallet and opened it to flip through my cash. Unfortunately, I only had seven dollars to my name. I had a little more cash at home, but if I offered her gas money, then I wouldn't be able to get my grandmother her ice cream.
“This all I got.” I showed her the seven dollars. “Maybe I can give you an IOU.”
“I don't accept IOUs, and how you gon' come to a strip club with seven measly dollars in your pocket?”
Red drove off and followed the directions I'd put into her GPS device. “I didn't come here tonight for that kind of action. Came to holla at my boys.”
“Yeah, whatever. I got you covered tonight, but if you ever want to ride with me again, having gas money is a must.”
I shut my eyes and laid my head back on the headrest. “Good thing I won't ever have to ride with you again then.”
Red didn't respond. If she did, I didn't hear her. I dozed off and didn't crack my eyes open until we got to the gas station. The least I could do was pay, with her money, and pump the gas. I held out my hand, but all she did was look at it.
“What?” she said.
“I need money to pay for gas. I showed you all that I had on me.”
She said something smart underneath her breath, and then reached for the brown bag she'd put in the glove compartment. I also saw a gun in there. It was good to know that she was smart enough to protect herself. She counted out forty dollars, then placed it in my hand.
“There. Bring me some gum and a diet Pepsi too. Also, if they have some of those chewy things . . . you know, those gummy bears in there, bring me some of those as well.”
I didn't bother to reply to her nonsense. I went inside to pay for the gas, and luckily for me, I was able to find a box of Black Walnut ice cream for my grandmother. It cost me $5.99, plus tax, so I didn't have enough for the extra stuff Red requested. Her forty dollars was pumped into the tank. When I got back into the car, she reached for the bag with the ice cream in it.
“Thanks,” she said. “Did you find the gummies?”
“Nope. I didn't have enough to pay for your stuff. In the bag is ice cream for my grandmother.”
Her mouth dropped wide open. “Nigga, are you serious? That ice cream will melt by the time we get to your grandmother's house. And in case you don't know this, my car doesn't have taxi written all over it. I'm only taking you to your crib. Not anywhere else.”
“Great. My home is at my grandmother's house. Let's roll so I can get her ice cream to her.”
Red pursed her lips. “Aww, hell, nah. You live with your grandmother? For whatever reason, I thought you had it . . . never mind. As they say, never judge a book by its cover.”
“So, now, you're insulting me, right? A few months ago, you were bent over in that bathroom stall with glee in yo' eyes and looking as if you wanted to break down, cry, and tell me how much you loved me.”
Her neck started to roll. I'm sure I pushed her buttons with that one. “Nigga, please don't flatter yourself. And I'm surprised you remembered
that night
. You acted as if you didn't even remember me.”
I closed my eyes again and licked across my lips. “Yeah, I remember. I keep remembering to forget.”
Red lightly pushed my shoulder, then left me at peace. I slept the entire way home, and when she parked in my driveway, she woke me up.
“Is this where you live?” she asked.
I looked at our small, red brick house with no lights on. My grandmother didn't play when it came to her light bill, and she minimized electricity as much as she could. “Yeah, this is me. Thanks for the ride. I promise not to inconvenience you again.”
“I hope not, but, uh, before you go, are you gon' tell me your name or not? I guess you know my name is Red, but you still haven't told me your name.”
“Why does it matter? Especially since I'm a broke, troublemaking, granny's boy who you thought could meet your standards.”
“You don't, but I still want to know your name.”
I hesitated to tell her anything. “Bones. My name is Bones.”
“Quit lying. That shit is funny, but I'm not in the mood to laugh.”
I opened the car door, but Red grabbed my arm to stop me. She snapped her finger. “Okay, I get it. They call you Bones because you like to break things, right? Like you broke that man's wrist back there at the club. Again, you shouldn't have done that. He was really a nice guy, just an asshole when he's sloppy drunk.”
“Whatever. Look, I'm real tired. Don't want my grandmother's ice cream to melt either. Call me whatever you wish, and thanks for the ride.”
“Can I call you tomorrow? If you give me your number, I'll call you when I get off work tomorrow. Maybe we can hook up for a late dinner or something.”
Red was trouble. I could smell it. Shit was written all over her. Our conversation was good, though. Just not good enough. “I'll pass. Again, thanks for the ride and be safe going home.”
This time, she didn't stop me when I made a move. And by the time I made it to the door, she had pulled out of the driveway and drove off. I put the key in the door and went inside. I could barely see, so I turned on an old-fashioned lamp in the living room. My grandmother's house was outdated, but spotless. She kept things real tidy, and there weren't too many things that were out of place. I went into her bedroom where she lay sound asleep. I could hear her snores, so I bent down and planted a soft kiss on her cheek. I put her ice cream in the freezer, expecting that she would get to it in the morning when she woke up.