“If I was your size, I would do it in a heartbeat.”
As freaky as she was, she was probably right. See, the problem is Keisha's a big girl. When we first met, she was probably wearing a sixteen, but over the years, especially during the stress of opening her own boutique, she started packing on the pounds and was wearing at least a twenty-two. Not that it stopped Keisha. She strongly believed you're as beautiful as you feel. Well, as far as Keisha was concerned, she was the hottest chick within a hundred-mile radius. Even now she was sitting with her legs crossed, swinging her foot in the aisle. As usual she was dressing her ass off, wearing a blue-jean miniskirt, complemented by a fire-engine-red corset, a jean bolero jacket, and matching five-inch pumps. She didn't let her weight stand in the way of looking good. I'll give it to her, style was one thing she knew a lot about and she wore it well. I guess that's why she owned Keisha's, the hottest boutique in all of Petersburg.
“Monica, you got one helluva body. Men would go crazy over your ass.”
I appreciated the compliment, but she was my friend, and friends are supposed to say that. “Yeah, right,” I said with a laugh. “You know I don't have the guts for that shit.” I still can't believe that heifer had suggested such a thing. She was the freaky one, not me.
“Hey, it's good money. My cousin Tina used to strip and she made a thousand dollars a week.”
My brow rose. “A thousand? Just to take off her clothes and shake her ass?” I asked skeptically.
“Yep,” she confirmed with a nod.
Her words went straight to my head, and I took a moment and tried to see myself on stage, doing exactly what she was suggesting, then realized how ridiculous it sounded. I gave her a dismissive wave. “Keisha, puhleeze. I don't even know why I brought it up again. You know I'm not about to take my clothes off for anyone but my man.”
“Yes, but you don't have one of those,” she teased.
“Thanks for reminding me,” I said with attitude. She sure knew how to make a woman feel good. Reaching up, I stroked my fresh new cut just to remember I had something to feel good about. Keisha had a lot of nerve. Hell, she couldn't keep a man.
“Seriously, all jokes aside, you could do it. We can come up with a stage name for you, like Juicy or Dimples.” Her eyes sparkled with excitement.
“Juicy and Dimples? Mmm-hmm, that would definitely describe my ass.”
Keisha chuckled. “Hey, that's what men love. A black woman with a ghetto booty! And you definitely have enough for the two of us.” I couldn't help but laugh because she was right about that. I had plenty of junk in my trunk. Despite how voluptuous Keisha was, her ass was wide and flat.
“Who in the world wants to watch a woman with little titties trying to dance?” I was flat-chested, just like my mama. Keisha had a pair of DDD's that she played up in corsets and low-cut blouses. It was the one thing I was most self-conscious about. If I could afford it, I would get a boob job in a heartbeat.
“You got enough. What did Anthony use to tell you ... that more than a mouthful is a waste?” she reminded with a wink.
“That asshole said a lot of things. He also said he'd love me forever, but you see where that got me.” I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead. A migraine was coming; I could feel it. It was all the stress of wondering if I was going to be able to pay my light bill next month or not. That's when I felt someone standing over me.
“Excuse me, sexy. I couldn't help but notice you when you first walked in. You have the most amazing legs.” My eyelids rose and I almost jumped from the seat when I found a dude at our table with bread crumbs clinging to his matted salt and pepper beard. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” he asked politely.
Is he for real?
I glanced over at Keisha and wanted to laugh. I could tell she, too, was struggling to keep a straight face. “No, I ...” I couldn't even finish what I was about to say because at that moment he smiled and I noticed his jacked up grill. What few teeth he had were rotten and the rest must have packed up and moved the hell on. “I don't think so.”
“Then can I have your phone number?” he smiled flirtatiously as his eyes quickly ran over my body. Did he really think I would go out with him? Instead, I was two seconds away from cussing him out. Even if I was dating, I never would have been that desperate.
“Hey! Didn't my girl tell you she's not interested?” Keisha said with attitude in her voice. He took a step back, looking both surprised and embarrassed. I guess he finally got the message because he walked away and returned to his table close to the front door. Keisha tried to hold it together, but as soon as he sat down in his seat, she burst out laughing.
Leaning across the table, I murmured, “Ugggh! He's got a lot of nerve, looking like Grady from
Sanford and Son
.” My comment made Keisha laugh even harder and I couldn't help but to join in. We had tears in our eyes. I glanced to my left and made sure he hadn't heard us making fun of him.
Puhleeze
.
Not Super Fly
. He had already forgotten about me and was standing over another table trying to holler at some light-skinned chick. I watched as her head started moving while her neck twisted and it was pretty obvious she was giving him straight attitude.
When she finally stopped laughing, Keisha said, “Now
that's
the type of men women up at Scandalous have to deal with, but the beautiful thing is you make a brothah pay for wasting your time.”
The conversation was right back where it had left off. My girl never did know when to quit. “Keisha, I already told you I'm not working at no strip club.” Just the thought of taking my clothes off in front of a bunch of strangers made my stomach turn.
“I could pick out some really cute outfits from the boutique and teach you how to walk in stilettos.” I swear she almost sounded like she was pleading with me. Damn! Was my girl trying to live vicariously through me?
“Keisha ... girl ... quit dreaming and listen to me. I am not stripping.” I said the words real slow and controlled just so she'd know I meant what I said.
Pouting, she finally leaned back on the bench. “Hooker. I should have known you didn't have it in you.”
“Me? A stripper? You're right. With my two left feet, I definitely don't.” I started laughing. I could just see myself on stage falling flat on my face.
“I forgot you have no rhythm.” Keisha burst into laughter, and then I changed the subject.
While we ate our lunch, I noticed Keisha was still looking down at the newspaper.
Exotic dancers needed
. Something in my gut told me that until I found a job, this wouldn't be the last time we discussed the subject.