by M. Robinson
“Danté, I already told you. I got a job. A real job, and I start tomorrow. I’m not working at your club tonight.”
“Camila, mamita, you break my heart. You’re my girl. I need you.”
“You’re going to have to find a new girl.”
“Sean know you got a new gig?”
I rolled my eyes. “Sean doesn’t run my life, Danté.”
“He know that?”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Wait, wait, wait… Listen, I need ya. I’m down a bartender. Come on, do it for me. We go way back, Camila. I need you. You owe me.”
I rolled my eyes again. “How many times are you going to play the ‘You owe me’ card, Danté?”
“As many times as it takes. Mira, mamita, I know you’re smilin’ behind that bitchy face you got goin’ on these days. ‘Cuz I know my girl Camila loves to dance, and I know you hear that Reggaetón music bumpin’ behind me. Gurl, stop playin’. Come shake dem sexy ass hips over here for me tonight.”
I broke out laughing, I couldn’t help it. Danté had that pull about him, he could make a dying man laugh his ass off.
“The Sean bullshit aside, mamita, you were my girl before his. Ya tu sabes,” he reminded, “You know that.”
“Sean around?” I questioned, needing to know what I was getting myself into.
Danté I could handle, Sean was a different story. An extremely different story. I wasn’t lying when I told Skyler I had a boyfriend once.
I did.
It just happened to be the same guy I dated more than once…
“You know him, Camila, he always be somewhere. You got into that fancy nursin’ school, you gotta pay those student loans somehow, don’t ya, mamita? And I pay you cash, under the table cash. So be the good girl we both know you are and help a brotha’ out. I need you. Nobody needs you like me, Camila.”
“Is this you trying to sweet talk me?”
“Depends. Is it workin’? Or do I need to play the best friend card too?”
He was right, I had loans piling up a mile a minute. Besides, the club was within walking distance of my apartment, and maybe it would help take my mind off the Pierces. At least for the rest of the night. Between school and working at Danté’s club, I never needed more than two to three hours of sleep anyway. My body was used to it.
“Fine,” I muttered, standing up to walk over to my closet at the far corner of my small studio apartment. “Throw in two hundred dollars on top of what you tip me out tonight, and I’ll be there with bells on.” I smiled, even though he couldn’t see me.
“Ah! You be wheelin’ and dealin’ me. Alright, alright, I see you. Two hundred on top of tip out. Cash. Just how you like it. No bells needed, just go throw on a tight little mini, and I’ll see you in an hour.”
He hung up before I could change my mind, knowing he had me right where he wanted me. Waiting hand and foot on the guests at his club, wearing a short dress with my boobs hanging out. But just to be a rebel, I dressed in a tight pair of dark low-rise blue jeans that hugged my curves in all the right places with a white cotton shirt I cut into a crop top that read ‘Sassy’ across my breasts.
My long, wavy brown hair accentuated the words, drawing more attention to my cleavage on full display. I didn’t have a huge rack by any means, but I knew how to work with what I did have. A push-up bra was my best friend on nights like this.
The more I showed, the more tips I made.
Although I had a petite frame, my narrow waist made my hips look curvier than they actually were. Emphasizing my plump, round booty. I added a pair of red hooker heels to complete my outfit.
Standing, I looked myself over in the full-length mirror. Fluffing my boobs a little more, giving the girls one last shake before I walked into my bathroom to do my makeup.
What would I do if I saw Sean tonight?
I hadn’t seen him in a few weeks, and in Sean’s world, that meant years. He used to flip his shit if he didn’t see me at least once a day, having to keep tabs on me everywhere I went. To say he was controlling would be an understatement, but I guess that’s what happens when you grow up together.
We were getting into trouble before we even knew the meaning of the word. It didn’t help we grew up in a shady ass neighborhood where everyone was a two-bit hustler in some way, shape, or form.
Skyler didn’t need to know all of that, she wouldn’t have understood even if I told her. No one would, unless they grew up where we did. It was why I wanted a better life for myself. I deserved it.
Sean never understood what I wanted, always thinking he was already giving me the life I dreamed of. Wheeling and dealing in everything and anything he could get his hands on.
Trust me, it was never a good sign when people were scared of your boyfriend.
I was never scared of him. I’d known him all my life. We went from being friends to being in a relationship really young and at that time, I didn’t know what I wanted out of a man. Sean definitely wasn’t it, and it took me years to figure that out.
In his eyes, I would be his forever.
“Camila, how do you get yourself into these situations?” I asked my reflection in the bathroom mirror, shaking my head.
Quickly shifting gears, I thought about the makeup I was going to wear instead. To make my dark, almond-shaped eyes pop I drew on a wing liner. Lining the bottom of my eyes as well. Coating my long, thick lashes in mascara next, it gave me the sultry appearance I wanted.
Finishing off my look, I contoured my slender nose, high-rounded cheekbones and forehead, and added some bronzer to accentuate my already tan skin. Deciding at the last second to use a nude shade of gloss on my full, pouty lips. I smacked my pout together, smiling once I was done.
Getting tips had never been a problem for me. I was a pretty girl, and I used it to my advantage like any other good bartender would do. I’d been working at Danté’s club on and off ever since he opened the place six years ago, but I’d decided it’d be best to keep it off my résumé.
Too many questions would arise that I didn’t want to answer.
First and foremost, how I got paid.
I grabbed a bottled water from the fridge and locked up my apartment. Nodding to the Little Man who was playing with his firetrucks outside his door in our hallway, while his mom tended to her “guests” inside, waiting for it to be over.
“You watch my place, alright? Make sure no one tries to break in,” I told him, smirking.
“I got you, Camila,” Curtis replied with the swagger of a man, when he was only nine-years-old.
I hid back a laugh.
He hit on me like always, babbling, “I got some new hotrods in my house if you want to check them out when you get back.” Already acting like he was grown.
“Curtis! How many times do I have to tell you? I’ll be an old lady by the time you’re my age.”
“So … you ain’t an old lady now.”
“And you’re only nine.”
“Age is just a number.”
I laughed, rustling up his dreads as I made my way down the stairs.
“Be good, Little Man! Use the key to my place if you need it!”
“Thanks, Camila! Go make that money, baby!”
“Curtis!”
“Yeah, whatever,” he grumbled, making me chuckle again.
As soon as I stepped out in front of my complex, I ignored the hooting and hollering and the intense stares of the men standing outside. Ogling me like I was theirs to gawk at.
I bit my tongue, wanting to give them a piece of my mind, but ultimately, I chose to keep my mouth shut. In the long run, it would only get me in trouble, and the last thing I needed was for Sean to find out about it and be the reason for bloodshed.
For them.
It didn’t take long for me to get to the club, walking in at the exact moment the beat was going off. The D.J. was dropping loud and fast, causing heads and bodies to shake every which way all around me. Making my hips sway to the Reggaet�
�n music as I shuffled through the mass of people who were there to have a damn good time.
Knowing Danté would provide exactly that.
“Camila!” he shouted, lifting the hinged section of the counter up so I could walk behind the bar. “Ah, shit! I see you, mamita! Take it down! Hands on your knees! Show me what’cha workin’ wit’!”
And I did.
Dropping it low to the ground in front of him, only to slowly roll my hips back up to grind right against him.
“There’s my girl,” he whispered into my ear, rocking his hips to the same rhythm as mine.
It was harmless fun. Danté was my oldest and dearest friend, and he also went to bat for the same team, not that it mattered to me. Men flocked to him like bees to honey. He was thin but built, had flawless cocoa skin, and a pretty boy face with his big honey-colored eyes that had lashes for days.
Always wearing the new fashion in clothes, shoes, accessories. He reminded me a lot of Lafayette in True Blood, looked a lot like him as well.
I was proud as hell of him for the success of his club. It may have been in the shitty part of town, but this was always the place to be on any given night.
“I knew you couldn’t stay away,” he teased, turning me toward the bar to get to work.
And once again, I did.
Loving every second of the tunes blaring from the speakers, and the energy of the crowd losing their minds.
“I’ll take a Corona!”
“A rum and Coke!”
“I’m getting married this weekend! Woooohoooo! I’ll take a round of shots for my girls and me!”
“Patron on ice!”
I listened to every order coming in from my section of the bar, nodding and making eye contact so they’d know I heard them, and they wouldn’t try to order from someone else.
Round after round, I laid out drink orders in front of my customers. Never stopping to rest for even a second during my shift, taking orders as swiftly as my body moved to the sound of the music. Finding my steady pace.
I was Danté’s girl for a reason, being the best bartender this place had ever seen won me that title.
Minutes turned into hours, and right when I thought I’d made it through a night at the club without seeing the man who claimed I was his queen, I felt him before I saw him.
Gazing straight up through the crowd of people, our eyes locked as if he could feel me too. There Sean was, all six-feet-four inches of him, wearing baggy jeans that hung off his waist with a black button-down shirt that I just knew was concealing his Glock. The one of many he didn’t have a license for. Sean was always packing, and I wasn’t just referring to the gun tucked in the back of his jeans.
But it wasn’t until the smell of his tight leather jacket that hugged his bulky, muscular build, along with the spicy scent of his cologne I’d been buying him since we were kids assaulted my senses, did my heart skip a beat.
Our sexual attraction to each other had never been our problem. It was the fact that he couldn’t keep his eyes, hands, or dick solely for me.
Except, you wouldn’t think that by the way he was undressing me with his eyes, making his way over. Looking like trouble with a capital T with that certain swagger only Sean could exude. He caught the attention of every woman in the bar, and he knew it too.
It was his mutt genes that made him stand out the most. He was a mix of white, black, and Hispanic. Giving him light brown skin and entrancing green eyes that I swear could see into my soul. And because of that, I was the first to break our connection, pretending as if this didn’t just happen.
I continued to take orders and went back to bartending. Acting as if he didn’t exist, and he wasn’t just there…
For me.
“Hey, baby,” he greeted at the side of my face, getting as close to me as possible. “Where ya been, suga’?”
“That will be forty bucks,” I addressed the man ordering drinks in front of me, focusing on him.
Disregarding my rapidly beating heart.
Stupid heart.
Sean questioned, “This how you gonna play it, baby?” Leaning closer to my neck, he faintly skimmed his soft lips against my pulse. “Don’t try me, Camila, ‘cuz I’ll show you how many fucks I give. I won’t be ignored.”
Snatching the money out of my customer’s hand, I abruptly turned toward the cash register. Only to be brought closer to the son of a bitch baiting me.
“Last warnin’, baby.”
I snapped my eyes to his, spewing, “I didn’t hear the first one.”
He grinned, narrowing his eyes at me with a predatory regard that made my thighs clench. “Even when you hate me, Camila, you know you still love me. So why don’t ya bring those dick-suckin’ lips over to me, and I’ll remind you what to do with that mouth.”
“You wanna piece of me, Sean?” I asked, cocking my head to the side. “That what you want?”
“Always. I’ll fuck the bitch right outta you. You know you’re my queen. I know you miss me, baby. Now let me take care of you, ya don’t need to be workin’ for some fuckin’ doctor. I’ll give you babies if that’s what ya want. You don’t need to be raisin’ someone else’s when you could be raisin’ ours.”
It didn’t surprise me in the least he knew about the Pierces. Sean knew everything. Especially when it came to me.
“Awe, Sean,” I voiced with nothing but sarcasm in my tone. “You just made my day.”
He eyed me up and down, licking his lips. “I’ll make your night too.”
“You know what, just for that.” Topping off a glass of whiskey, his favorite. I stated, “You should cool off.”
Before he realized what I was about to do, I threw the drink in his face. Right into his eyes.
“You fuckin’ bitc—”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Sean. This is how many fucks I give, baby.”
With that, I turned around and left him there. Letting the groupies of women he ran around on me with tend to his burning eyes.
Giving, zero fucks…
About what I just did.
Chapter 7
<>Camila<>
Now
__________
The sound of the alarm on my phone woke me up bright and early.
Way too bright and early if you asked me.
No matter what time I fell asleep, six a.m. always came far too quickly. The sun was barely peeking through the vertical blinds in my studio apartment when my eyes finally started fluttering open.
“Uhhh…” I groaned, trying to find the button to shut off my alarm.
I didn’t get home last night, or should I say this morning, ‘til a little after four a.m., but who’s to say what time I actually found sleep.
“Alright, Camila, get up,” I ordered myself, shaking off the tiredness I still felt.
The smell of coffee brewing in the air was the real reason my ass got out of bed. Thanking God I remembered to set it to automatic brew, needing the caffeine in my veins. Though it was the music on my phone I turned on before I jumped in the shower that really started waking me up. The beat to “7 Rings” by Ariana Grande blared through the speakers as I washed my face.
Singing, “Been through some bad shit I should be a savage, who would have thought it turned me into a savage.”
Using my shampoo bottle as a microphone, I broke it down. The girl spoke to my soul. I danced around, singing as loud as I could while I washed my hair and body.
“I bought a crib just for the closet.”
By the time Ariana and I were wrapping up our number one hit, my shower was over.
“That’s right, girl, one day I’m going to want it and get it too,” I laughed, drying myself off. Thinking about how much money I’d be making once I was a registered nurse.
I went about my normal morning routine, deciding to dress in some skinny jeans with holes in them and a white cotton t-shirt I tucked into the side of my pants. Giving me that comfortable put together look I always wore. I’d be hanging with Little Miss most
of the day, so being comfy was key.
I left my hair to dry naturally curly and just sprayed some product in it to control the frizz, or else I’d end up looking like a French poodle.
There wasn’t much I did to my face, except add a little concealer under my eyes and some mascara to my lashes to appear more awake. At the last minute I decided to apply a bit of blush and gloss on my lips, and I was out the door with a bagel in one hand and a coffee in the other.
Making sure to grab an extra bagel for Little Man who I knew would be waiting outside his door for his breakfast. We’d made it a habit of walking to the bus stop together, his for school and mine for wherever I was headed that day. Public transportation was a way of life for me. I didn’t own a car, I couldn’t afford one.
Today, it was the Pierces.
My first day of working for them.
“Hey, baby,” Curtis greeted, leaning against his door with his arms folded over his chest. The same shit-eating smirk appearing on his face.
I rolled my eyes, ignoring him. “Curtis, did you study for your math test?”
“Ugh, why you always gotta start the mornins’ off with askin’ me ’bout school?”
“Because someone has to,” I reminded, handing him his bagel.
“Did you use the cream cheese I like?”
I arched an eyebrow, waiting.
“I mean, thank you.”
“Yes. I used the cream cheese you like.” Nodding to the stairs in front of us, I ruffled his dreads. “Come on or you’re going to be late.”
“Camila, I don’t wanna go to school,” he whined as we made our way down the stairs.
This was the biggest problem in our neighborhood. Parents making babies when they had no right to. They could barely take care of themselves, let alone the kids they were popping out left and right. Not giving them any encouragement to want to do something better with their lives.
“Then who’s going to take care of me when I’m old if you don’t get an education?”
“There are other ways of makin’ money other than school, Camila.”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah. Andre says I could join his crew—”
“Curtis! How many times have I told you to stay away from Andre? You know he’s up to no good. You want to end up in juvie like he has dozens of times?”
