Mocking a baby’s voice, Amber said, “Well, since I can’t go I’ll wait here. Don’t have me waiting all night though.”
We drove to Club Safari in silence. Toi was shaking. You would think that somebody was about to kick her behind.
“Candice, you never cease to amaze me. You are so smart and pretty. Just looking at your innocent face, a person would never think that you would be down for something like this.”
You damn right. I’m down for whatever. Whatever is right for me and mine.
“Well Toi, just call me an educated hoodrat who graduated from the streets. I moved out of the ghetto, but the ghetto ways are still in me. I know how to cover it up, but when your back’s against the wall, you go back to what you know.
“Life is a cruel game, and if you’re from the ghetto like us, then survival is one of your toughest opponents. Based on all that we’ve been through, we’ve learned from experience that only the strong survive.”
FIVE
Watch out!!
Here comes the unknown,
It may bring joy or
It may leave you alone,
It could cause happiness, distress
Or something you can’t detect,
But whatever happens, it’s . . .
when you least expect
ummp, bummp!” Toi has to hear me blowing this horn. I called her fifteen minutes ago and told that wench we were on our way. Why she always keep a sista waiting?
After waiting for over ten minutes, she finally pranced out the house. “Y’all know better than to rush a diva.”
When she walked toward the car, she began to strut like she was on a Paris runway. She stopped after every other step, posing, turning around slowly while lifting her arms in the air showing off her outfit.
“C’mon Tyra Stanks. We ain’t got all day,” I yelled under a playful laugh.
Toi was wearing blue pants that fit like a second layer of skin. Her shirt was black with blue paisley designs, and it hugged her upper torso. Her stomach was partially showing, revealing a tattoo around her navel that showed only by choice.
She bought that “Abs of Steel” video, and baby, it worked. Back in college, she always had a little baby fat around the waist, but Toi’s all grown now.
I had to give it to her, she looked good. Toi didn’t have any problems in the confidence area.
She got into the car being her talkative self. “I know I look and taste good tonight! I have my sweet body gel on and oh, let’s not forget the FDS spray. Gotsta keep the poonanie smelling right. I might just let some lucky guy lick it.” She rubbed her hand in her crotch and lifted it up to my face.
“Don’t this coochie smell good.”
“You are so nasty; don’t put that mess in my face! I don’t know what’s been down there.”
Amber interrupted the conversation, “I ain’t trippin’ neither. I could really go for some tonight. Girl, I need to be done up thug style, straight nasty.”
On the way to the club, we joked and laughed about the last time we went out. It made me feel good to see Amber having fun again. It took her a while to get over the beat-down Randy gave her. But now things are finally getting back to normal.
It’s been almost ten months since Randy’s little, um . . . accident. He was released from the hospital after three days. He got just what he deserved, and I got what I asked for. You know, seeing Randy get busted up didn’t make me feel better. I kinda felt sorry for him, lying on the ground bloody and helpless.
How I reacted to Amber’s incident reminded me of what my mother used to always say: “Don’t do things when you’re mad because you may regret it. Bad decisions have haunting repercussions.”
If I had really thought the whole thing over, I probably wouldn’t have done what I did. It’s too late for that now. What’s done is done. Anyway, all I had to do was think about how I found Amber on the floor to convince myself that Randy deserved it.
It’s a damn shame, but don’t y’all know that Amber went flying to that nigga’s bedside when she heard that he was in the hospital. By the time she arrived, his other women were arguing about who was staying, and whose man he really was.
“That’s my nigga,” one of the women yelled.
“Naw hoe, I got his baby right here in me,” another stated while pointing to her swollen belly.
Instead of arguing with them, she left and decided to let him call her if he wanted to. Of course the nigga called, and she went running. She claims that she isn’t messing around with him no more, but I know that’s a lie. The one thing Amber couldn’t do was fool me. But, that’s her. The best I can do for her is to let her learn on her own.
When we got to the club, it was packed. “Damn, girl, what time is it?” Toi asked. It was still early, but the parking lot was full. It’s good to have connections. When the valet runner saw me, he made room for my Benz up front.
“We got it goin’ on, hey now,” Amber said.
Inside the club, we could barely move. We had to push our way through the crowd. It was jam packed, wall to wall. As we walked toward the bar, somebody rubbed my cat, then my butt. Damn, he really tried to get between my crack. I didn’t bother looking around. If a nigga needed a cheap thrill that bad, let him have it.
The lights were extra dim; you couldn’t see a thing. After squirming our way under a fluorescent beer sign, we noticed some paid-looking niggas by the pool tables. They were shooting pool and sipping on Moët. We headed over to where they were, but my song by Trick Daddy came on. I went right to the dance floor.
“Ladies, I’m feeling this crowd tonight.” I pulled a guy standing next to me on the dance floor. The music, the crowd, the vibe, it was intense. Every beat from the music, pulsating through the huge speakers, ran through my body. At that moment, the music took over my body.
“Look at Miss Soul Train,” Toi said to me.
“I know you don’t think yo rhythmless behind can dance better than me.” Joking with her, I said, “Girl, I choreographed three music videos, remember.”
“Yeah, in yo dreams.”
Toi came to the floor dancing. She stopped, planted her feet, stuck her butt out, and started shaking her cheeks. Then, she went down to the ground slowly, with her legs spread open, and bounced a few times before she came back up.
“Ya mama taught me that, Candice.”
“She learned it from yo granny, the original ‘Solid Gold’ dancer,” I replied.
Amber soon joined in. We had gotten our groove on for years in the club. We swung our hips from left to right in a circular motion, from front to back, like we were hunching, and then dropped to the floor.
We were dancing for thirty minutes straight before we went to the bar. We ordered our usual, tequila shots.
“Six tequila shots with salt and lime please,” I told the bartender.
“Six? What’s up with that?” Amber said.
“Two each. What’s wrong, you ain’t hangin’ tonight?” I asked Amber.
“Hell yeah I’m hangin’, sex is always better when ya have a little buzz. Ya feel me.”
We all grabbed our first shot, held our limes in our hand and I said, “You lick.” We all licked the salt seductively from around the rim of the glass. “You swallow.” We swallowed the shot down with one gulp. “And you suck.” We sucked our lime and acted as if we just had an orgasm.
As Toi finished the second shot, she noticed a guy staring at her, licking his lips.
“Damn, I wish I was that lime and salt.”
“Well, maybe you can be if you say the right thing and work with the right tools.”
Toi was in rare form. She wanted to D, and she was definitely getting her freak on tonight.
I hear y’all broke nigga’s hating in the background. “Why these hoes just freakin’ every nigga in town? I bet they got every disease in the book. ”
Well nigga, too bad, you just mad ’cause you can’t get none. You’d be the first nigga in line if this coochie was laid o
ut on a platter. Don’t hate because we livin’ large, in control and doing our own thang. You know, we got it going on, now what?
We have a chance to do what men have been doing since day one. A woman can pick a guy, screw him, and go. Men can finally get a taste of their own medicine. I ain’t saying be a dog, but most men call you a bitch behind your back anyway. So, why not be the HBIC, head bitch in charge.
As we prepared to take another shot, three guys walked over. One looked at me and said, “I know you from somewhere.”
“Where? I don’t remember you.”
“I know . . . the Essence Festival in New Orleans this past summer?”
“Yeah, I was there. All three of us went,” I replied.
Then the nigga went left and said, “I thought I knew you. Remember, I got that stuff all night long. Don’t you remember?”
Amber and Toi’s faces frowned up. They both had that “I know this nigga didn’t” expression. Now y’all already know.
I didn’t hesitate to respond, because that nigga had me all messed up. I answered in a very soft and professional voice, “Well, if you would have said that you ate my cat all night long, I would’ve had to think about it. I know you didn’t get to paradise because a man looking as broke as you are, wearing skintight Eddie Murphy Delirious pleather pants, surely can’t afford this premium body or any of my valuable time. Anyway, your breath needs some help right now.”
I placed a mint on the counter in front of where he was standing, then went back to sipping my drink. Amber and Toi, along with that fool’s boys, burst out laughing. He just walked off and motioned for the other guys to follow.
When they left, Toi started sucking on a lime and licking her lips, silently flirting with the guy that had been looking at her. As I looked up to see his response, I saw a prospect. He looked sorta familiar; I could barely see with the dim lights.
I started squinting and moved a little away from the bar. I recognized that face. What was he doing there? I know that can’t be Mike. The room was so dark it must’ve just been my imagination.
Oh my gosh, it is him! I can’t believe it. Y’all remember Mike, my lover, for that one night.
I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I watched his every move. He was looking good. He had on a pair of brown dress pants and a button-down shirt that showed off his broad shoulders. His hair was neatly twisted, and his diamond loop earrings could be seen from across the room. There’s something about a polished-up street nigga that drives me insane.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I remembered how good he felt and smelled. My heart started pounding fast, and I got nervous. “Calm down Candice, calm down,” I started saying to myself. What was he doing in the club? I know he don’t live in West Palm Beach, I been here most of my life. I thought he was a guest at the party where we met. I never asked though.
I wanted this man. Good gosh! I wanted this nigga, but I wasn’t ready. I had no need for a relationship. I couldn’t afford to fall in love. I wasn’t ready to share my time, thoughts, or my whole self with a man.
My life was comfortable. I did what I wanted to when I wanted to. I wasn’t gonna change for love or lust.
Damn, he saw me.
Here he came.
I waited for any distraction. As much as I wanted him, I couldn’t talk to him. Good, someone tapped him on the shoulder.
I quickly blended into the crowd and proceeded to the restroom.
After sitting in a stall for what seemed like hours, I decided to go back to the bar. It was last call, and the lights were starting to come on. I saw Toi and Amber talking to the guy who she was flirting with earlier. Good. Mike’s already gone.
“There go Lil Miss Shake It Fast,” Toi said when she noticed me.
They started walking in my direction.
“Where have you been half of the night?” asked Amber.
“I was trying to find me a good tongue for the night.” Everyone started laughing and headed toward the exit.
SIX
Life is unpredictable and usually unfair
It doesn’t go as planned, so why do you care,
About the Love and Happiness that come
with so much pain,
One minute you’re at peace the next
you’re damn near insane,
Why are you here, is there a point
Can you ever have it all or . . .
whatever you want
I can’t believe it’s spring already. Work’s been so hectic, I haven’t had any time to see my girls. Owning Money Makers, a company that specializes in taxes and financial planning, has given me financial security, but it also takes up most of my time. Ever since I added another CPA, three accountants, and two personal managers, my business has doubled each quarter. By the end of the second fiscal year, profits had increased 300 percent.
One thing I’ve learned in this business is that people with money like to be pampered and those that don’t have a lot of money like to be treated as if they do. It’s like anything else; people don’t like dealing with reality. It’s just like being around street hustlers—investors act the same. The only difference is that their hustle is government sanctioned.
I decided to leave the office early today. Working fifteen-hour days over the past three months had taken its toll. I needed to relax and clear my mind. Sometimes we all need to get away for a minute or two. Life is way too short to spend all your time working.
Nevertheless, my friends and I have made our businesses three successes. Toi’s marketing firm and Amber’s health club bring in upscale clients and plenty of revenue. In other words, we ain’t hurting for money.
Amber’s health club caters to the elite. Some of my clients work out there, but most of them just use the massage and manicure services. The customers that get a chance to talk with Amber always ask her how she got into the business. You gotta admit, it’s kinda unusual for a black woman to own a thriving health club with five-star service. But when you think about it, good service comes second nature to blacks. Our great-great-whatever had no choice but to work hard and be perfectionists. They never got the respect and money they were due, but we will.
Amber always tells the curious patrons about her good friend that helped her start by putting together a stellar business plan. She also says that her friend put her up on some good investments that brought her big returns. Since these people are usually money-hungry, they always listen attentively. Yeah, I know it’s a hustle, but it works.
Most customers end up wanting to know who this friend is and if she can do something for them. Amber then gives them my name and number, and once they call, the rest is history.
What Amber fails to tell them is that I own 60 percent of her business. Well, I own it until she pays me back the money I loaned her. I know that we are friends and down like that, but I still had her sign the necessary legal documents.
I normally don’t mix business and friendship. But since I take care of the books, I decided to help a sista out. Humph . . . I’ve been pleased with her hard work. If she keeps it up, she’ll be able to buy me out in five years.
I’m glad to see Amber doing something positive with her life now. She had it rough growing up. Her father was a small-time dope dealer. He was killed when she was nine years old, and her mother, bless her heart, was a maid for a white family in Palm Beach. When Amber realized that a woman needed more than looks to survive, that’s when she decided to apply for college. I’m lucky she did; I ain’t know her as a kid. Her mom worked night and day so they could stay on the other side of town; not quite the hood, but not exactly the lap-of-luxury type of neighborhood.
Amber is an attractive woman. She’s five-five with milk-chocolate-color skin, natural jet-black hair, and a small waist. She has an innocent look, but don’t let that fool you. She can be very sneaky and deceptive, but she usually lets men take advantage of her.
Toi has been out of pocket since she’s been seeing Johnny, the man she met at the club the
last time we went out. Ms. Lady must be in love because she’s devoted to him. And, baby, that is totally unlike her. He’s a professional baseball player, but she meets men with money all the time. So, money surely wasn’t the reason for her newly acquired relationship.
Me, I’d rather a businessman any day; their careers are for life, unlike a ballplayer’s. Most of those players don’t even know what to do with their money when they get it. And an out-of-work athlete is the worst kind of nigga to have. All they do is whine. They want you to relive their glory days every time a game comes on. I ain’t trying to sit up with nobody cosigning on bad choices for plays and calls.
My company represents a few professional athletes. They pay for advice, but never take it. All they want to know is how to get out of paying all of those taxes. You know, it’s easy to make a million but hard as hell to keep it. Why do you think so many athletes are broke once their professional career is over? They spend every penny they make, don’t save for the future, and then have the nerve to get mad when they have to give the Bentley back.
Toi has been trying to introduce me to Johnny’s friend Fred, but I been too busy. Meeting some arrogant butthole is not my idea of a good time. I’m outgrowing that “ewwww ain’t he fine” stage. A sista need a man, not a boy with money.
Maybe I’ll call her when I get home and set something up for the weekend. She’s not going anywhere without her man now, but that’s the way it should be when you find a good person. Well, I guess I have to meet this Fred, for Toi’s sake of course.
Toi was glad to hear from me. Although we hadn’t seen each other lately, except for an occasional lunch, we still talked every day.
“So you got time for yo girl again,” Toi said jokingly.
“Maybe I’ll squeeze you in between my five o’clock and five-fifteen.”
We both immediately burst into laughter. I had worked so much lately that I didn’t have a chance to really smile at anything personal, much less laugh.
Sins & Secrets Page 4
