If It Ain't About the Money

by Saundra

  A few days passed, and Kirk’s offer kept clouding my mind and holding my concentration hostage. For some reason I felt as if I just needed to know more about what he meant. They say curiosity killed the cat. Well, my curiosity was nagging the hell out of me. That’s what ultimately led me to make the call to Kirk. We agreed to meet up when I took my lunch break at Chic.

  I ended up taking my break a few minutes later than expected because the store had gotten busy. But as soon as the rush slowed down, I exited the store and mobbed two doors down to Subway, where Kirk and I had agreed to meet. He seemed to be texting when I approached the table.

  “What’s up?” I said while pulling out my chair.

  “Grinding,” he replied, looking up from his phone. “I see you came through; for a minute I thought you had chickened out on me,” he joked.

  “Ha ha. No chicken here, never. The store just got busy. But I’m here like I said I would be. So what’s good?”

  “I got this work for you. All you gotta do is be ready when I call you.”

  “You keep talkin’ about work, but you still ain’t said what it is. So be ready means what exactly?” Kirk was my boy, but I was becoming a bit annoyed with him. Why couldn’t he just tell me what the job was already?

  “Private dancing,” he blurted out. That cleared up a few things for me quickly. Like his hesitation to tell me what the job was.

  “A stripper,” I said, surprised.

  “Nah, not a stripper. A private dancer for exclusive parties, or should I say gentlemen. All you have to do is show up, dance, and leave. Simple as that.”

  I was still a bit shocked; not once in a million years did I think that was what he had in mind. I never could have guessed. “I don’t know about that, Kirk. Dancing at parties.” I hunched my shoulders. I know he tried to clarify private dancing as not being a stripper, but at this point I wasn’t sure what the difference was. “It just don’t seem like nothin’ I would do.” I had to be honest. I considered myself to be bold, but I didn’t know if I was that bold.

  “Listen, it’s safe. I set the whole thing up. Everything goes through me so you have nothin’ to worry about. And the money good, you’ll make more in one night than you’ll make in one week at fuckin’ Chic.” He waved my job off like it was nothing but a name. “I can promise you that.”

  The money part had my attention, but I just wasn’t comfortable with dancing for anyone. At least not when all attention would be directed at me. “What’s in it for you?” I had to ask. Him setting everything up sounded like he was the employer. But in the world we lived in, not even an old friend from the neighborhood hooked you up for nothing. Strings were always attached.

  “Just the standard fifteen percent.” And that was the string. Kirk was trying to get paid. But I couldn’t blame him; he had to make a living, too. However, I was still a bit perplexed by the offer. I wanted to make money, but I equally wanted to feel comfortable and safe. I had to think about it. Kirk was eyeing me hard; it was evident he wanted immediate answers. “What you think?”

  “The money sounds enticing, but I don’t know, Kirk. I ain’t sure if this is the road I want to travel.”

  “Aye, I know this different for you. But look at this way, it’s about the hustle, the grind. Simply getting paid,” he stressed. “I’m tryin’ to see you straight with your pockets laced. Trust I got you.” He was dead serious and I knew it.

  “You always been real, Kirk, and I appreciate that.” I really didn’t know what else to say. But my lunch break was just about over, and I had to get back to work. “Yo, time is about up. I gotta get back to work. Thanks for coming through.”

  “No doubt, anytime. I’ma get back on this hustle.”

  I walked back over to Chic in a fog; my mind was clouded with all types of thoughts. But one thing I was almost sure of was that I couldn’t be a private dancer. The last thing I wanted was some turnt-up asshole too close to me. Not to mention I could be so mean at times no guy would buy that I was seductive. Back in front of Chic I reached out to pull open the entrance door; at that exact moment my mind was made up. There was no way I could do it. I just wouldn’t be good at it.

  After clocking back in, I tried to jump right back to my routine, but for some reason I couldn’t seem to get it together. The entire store seemed to be a complete mess. I had only been gone to lunch for an hour and shit was everywhere, as usual. For the life of me I didn’t understand why people went crazy over all this knock-off shit. Rock A Wear at that. That shit had been played out. Broke as I was, I could not afford any name brand at all and I still didn’t rock this shit. I preferred to stick to places like Charlotte Russe, where labels were nonexistent. But I’d be damned if I wore fake name brands. Especially if I had to shop in pure chaos to get it.

  As usual the lazy bitches at my job never did shit. Since I had been back from lunch I had picked up at least five pair of pants off the floor and placed them back on a half-empty rack. Then there was the fake-ass US Polo crap spread about the store, and it just seemed as if no one was picking the shit up but me. Everyone else seemed to be running around chatting, laughing, and chewing fucking gum. The last straw was a blue knock-off Polo shirt that damn near got tangled around my leg and threatened to trip me.

  “Fuck this bullshit,” I said to no one in particular, holding a pile of fake US Polo t-shirts in my hand and two pairs of shorts. I dumped it all on the floor into a pile with so much force my shoulder hurt. With fast strides and full of anger, I marched straight toward the time clock and clocked out. This was for the fucking birds, and I was done. In that split second my mind had changed. It was time for me to get money by any means necessary. Private dance, slide down the pole, or drop that ass in a baller’s lap, this dead-end Chic with fake labels was over for me. This was not going to be my life. I was meant for better.

  “And just where do you think you’re going? You just got back from lunch and yo shift ain’t over for another three hours.” Tasha appeared from behind a rack of body dresses like the serpent she was. I wasn’t surprised, though; her ass was always somewhere lurking and not doing shit. I think that was a part of her job description. I was over her, though, too.

  “Not that it’s any of your fuckin’ nosy-ass business, I’m going home. It’s time for me to roll up.” I kept walking toward the entrance with an added swish to my walk.

  To my revelation she chuckled. “And who do you think is gon’ finish your shift?” she added a little bass to her voice.

  That was enough to make me want to chuckle out loud. But I was sick of her damn mouth. She never got tired of being a mean, nasty bitch. I hated her ass. Turning on my heels, I planted the meanest scowl on my face I could muster. “Bitch, I really don’t give a fuck. I mean, does it look like I give a fuck? Shit, how about you do it? Lazy, trifling ass.” I rolled my eyes. With that I was out. Her jaw dropped to her chin. For the first time ever, she was at a loss for words. Stepping outside the store, I saw the sun setting behind the clouds and I realized I was free of the bull. I prayed to never see Tasha’s lazy, sloppy ass again.

  Chapter 9

  Isis

  “I love this part.” I laughed so hard my stomach hurt. I was chilling at Bobbi’s crib. It was my day off, so we were sitting back on his cousin’s raggedy orange living room sofa watching Good Times, which happened to be one of my favorite golden-oldies sitcoms. It was one of the things I enjoyed most, that and lying in Bobbi’s arms; whenever I was in his arms I was home. I couldn’t wait until we had our own place and could do this all the time. Bobbi’s favorite part, of course, was getting me out of my clothes. His right hand slowly started to travel under my shirt. I giggled like a schoolgirl. “Stop, babe, you’re going to make me miss my part.” I playfully moved his hand back to his lap.

  “That’s the plan.” His lips found the crease of my neck, and his hand slowly traveled back up my shirt, where he freed one of my breasts from my bra and played with the nipple. No longer interested in Good Times, I tur
ned to him, and he wasted no time sticking his warm tongue in my mouth. The ringing of Bobbi’s cell phone killed the vibe.

  “Come on, Bobbi. Who is that?” I pouted. His phone was famous for interrupting us just as we were about to get busy. And most calls were emergencies. On his days off from his real job, Bobbi had started up a side business where he would fix cars wherever they broke down. Sort of like a mechanic on wheels. Who could have known how many people’s cars could break down in one day in strange-ass spots? Just the other day he got a call from a chick whose motor had fallen out while she sat at a red light. His idea had been genius, and it was bringing in lots of money. But while I was all about him stacking dough, I hated missing time with him. The shit was getting old and fast. My feelings were quickly becoming fuck a mechanic on wheels.

  “Hello.” He answered the phone. “A’ight, text that address to my phone. Yep, next half hour. I’m kinda in the middle of something.” He eyed me and grinned. But I wasn’t smiling. I knew it was about somebody’s raggedy-ass ride.

  I sighed, making sure it was full of annoyance as he ended the call, and turned my attention back to the television. “Who was that?” I asked him, just to make him say it to me.

  “Baby, don’t be mad.” He pulled me to him and kissed my neck again.

  “Nope, don’t do that. Don’t start what you can’t finish.” I pouted.

  “Aye, you know I don’t want to go. I’d rather be here with you all day. But I’m tryin’ to get this business going, the right way. If it keeps on the way it’s going, I’ll be able to open up my own garage. Real soon.” He sounded excited about his accomplishment.

  “I know.” I softened. I didn’t want him to think I didn’t hold him down. You know, stand by your man, as the saying goes. But I can’t front: it was complicated as hell.

  “Tell you what. I’ll come by later tonight, and we can finish all this.” For good measure he pulled up my tee and gripped my breasts in his mouth one by one. I almost ripped his clothes off right there.

  “Okay, I’ll be waiting.” I said, my voice shivering from pure pleasure. But I also knew that when he started working on a vehicle, there was no guarantee what time he would finish. And in most cases he’d be dog tired when he was done, depending on what he had to do. Again I tried to remember that it was for our future. Suddenly my cell phone rang. “Hey,” I chirped.

  “What’s up? Where you at?” Secret chimed on the other end of the phone.

  “At Bobbi’s crib. We were chillin’, but he about to drop me by the house, though. What’s good?”

  “Why don’t you have him drop you off at Los Lita we can grab some lunch, on me.” That’s all I needed to hear.

  “Hey, if you payin’, I’m there.”

  “Bet, I’m headed that way. See you there.”

  Twenty minutes later, Bobbi was pulling in front of the restaurant. I didn’t even realize how hungry I was until I was inside. Secret was already there sitting down at the table munching on tortillas and salsa. Sliding into the booth, I couldn’t wait to dig in. “What’s up, chick?”

  “Shit, I got the munchies, ’bout ready to eat these people’s restaurant up.” Secret chuckled. One look at her bloodshot red eyes, and I knew exactly what she meant.

  “Why you blazin’ without me? See you ain’t right, but it’s cool.”

  “Aye, when I woke up, you were already gone. Told you ’bout gettin’ up with that nigga on your brain. You miss out on that fire and ain’t nothin’ worth that.” She dipped her chip and munched down on it, grinning.

  “Shut up.” I laughed as I reached for a chip and dipped it in the salsa. “Besides, I thought you had to work this morning.” I pushed the chip into my mouth and chewed. The waitress approached the table and took our orders. I got my favorite, cheese chicken enchiladas. Secret ordered her favorite, steak fajitas with extra sour cream.

  “That’s why I brought you out.” Secret started to ramble again as soon as the waitress sauntered off. “I quit Chic the other night.”

  “The other night, why you ain’t say nothing? Always tryin’ to hide some shit.”

  With another chip in her mouth, she chewed like she was thinking then hunched her shoulders. “I guess I just wasn’t ready to discuss it. I needed a break from even saying that damn store name. It leaves a spoiled taste in my mouth.” She groaned as if she was exhausted.

  “Well, I hope you didn’t forget we still have bills. You already quit Taco World,” I reminded her. I couldn’t believe she had up and quit both her jobs, and to be honest, she didn’t seem the least bit bothered.

  “I know that, Isis . . . Look, I had to get out of there right then, I was just tired of it.” Her cheeks were becoming flushed and her voice cracked. It became clear that she needed my understanding at that moment.

  “I get it. You did what you had to. And I’m okay with that.”

  “I definitely had to do it.” Relief was imprinted on her face.

  “Aye, but job or no job, you paying for this damn lunch,” I joked, then bit into a chip. A part of it crumbled into my greenish colored mini bowl full of salsa.

  “Dang no sympathy for the unemployed?” We both laughed. “Hey, so guess who I ran into the other day?”

  “Wait, please don’t tell me crazy-ass Chris?” Chris was the first person to come to my mind. He had been Secret’s on-again, off-again boyfriend for a year. Turns out dude was Secret’s real-life fatal attraction. Nigga could not understand the word “no” or “fuck off.” It wasn’t until Secret shot him in the ass with his own gun that he got the picture not to fuck with her. He wanted love and didn’t understand that she was not cut out for it. I had never met a dude yet that she dated and loved. For her being with them was only fun and a pastime. That was it. It was probably safe to say Secret’s “fall in love with a guy” button was turned off or didn’t exist.

  Secret’s mouth flew wide open, and she caught her chest. “Wait a minute, who?” she asked, surprised. “What made you think of that fucking stalker freak? I wish that nigga would come within an inch of me. He and I both know he would get bodied on sight. Ugh, Isis.” She grunted.

  “Don’t get your panties all in a bunch. Heck, you said guess. I just thought I would start with the person I would least expect. The one that’s always on your shit list.” I chuckled. “Since I’m making bad guesses, should I leave Jackie out, too?”

  “I think you should stop guessing. Shit, you take it straight to the devil himself.” Secret took a long, deep swig from her drink. “Damn, you made me thirsty bringing up Chris.”

  “My bad. But if not them two, then who?” I hunched my shoulders and waited, because at this rate I had no idea who she could be talking about.

  “Kirk,” she dropped.

  I had to think for a brief second. Then it hit me. “Ohhh, Kirk from the old neighborhood.” That was a surprise. I would have never guessed him. I hadn’t seen Kirk for years, probably even longer.

  “Yep,” Secret confirmed with a grin.

  “Wow, where you seen him at?” The last thing I remembered about Kirk was that he had kinda disappeared from the neighborhood. No rhyme, no reason.

  “Well, he came into Taco World a while back before I quit. Really it was the same night I quit.”

  “For real? It’s good to hear that he still alive. Dude sort of fell off the grid. Stop coming to school and everything.”

  “Yeah, well, he back and in full effect. I never told you this, but I actually ran into him a few years back. It was around about the time Mrs. Tate passed; it kind of slipped my mind.”

  “Yeah, it was a lot going on then.” It still made my heart drop a bit when I talked about or thought of Mrs. Tate. I really missed her. “So what’s up with him?” I asked.

  “He good . . .” She paused as the waitress set her hot, sizzling plate in front of her, then mine followed. I wasted no time digging in. “He good, though . . .” she repeated. “Doing good for himself and he lookin’ fine as ever. I mean he all grown
up,” she added with a smile, while placing the steak and vegetables inside her corn tortilla.

  “That’s what’s up. Kirk was always a good dude.”

  “True that. Get this, though: he offered me a job.”

  I wasn’t sure if I had heard her right. Her mouth was full of food. “Did you say he offered you a job?” I asked for confirmation.

  Secret looked me straight in the eyes. “Yes, he offered me a job,” she repeated clearly, so that I was sure not to misinterpret.

  I laughed. “Damn, Kirk got it like that,” I crowed. “Hmmm, what kind of job is it?”

  Secret continued to chew the food in her mouth, swallowed, then took another bite and chewed. The food was so delicious we both found it hard to talk and eat. “Doing private dances,” she said really fast in between grinding her teeth and belching.

  “Ummm, what?” I was confused. “Private dancing. You mean like what?”

  “Listen, I know how it must sound, but it’s really not like what you might think. It’s for exclusive parties and/or gatherings. Not like a stripper at a club or nothing.” Her demeanor was a bit too nonchalant for my liking.

  It really didn’t matter to me how it sounded, though; that shit was a no go. “Hell, no, you can’t be doing no shit like that, Secret,” I said flat out.

  “Isis, it’s not what you think. I promise it ain’t. Plus, it’s safe. Kirk set up all of the dances. Not only that, the money’s good. Kirk said I’ll make in one night what I make in a week at Chic. And I don’t have to put up with bitchin’-ass customers.” She said that as if it was a selling point.

  “I don’t know.” I was still not convinced.

  “Yo, it is what it is. I’m tired of slaving for pennies. And you should be, too. How we ever gon’ get ahead?” That statement made me pause. I thought about that all the time. But nothing different had ever presented itself. Not only that, I only had a high school diploma, and I didn’t think that would get me far.