If It Ain't About the Money

by Saundra

  Kirk’s eyes bulge with excitement when I rounded the corner. “What’s up, Isis?” He gave me a wide grin. “Man, it’s been a long time.”

  “Hey, Kirk.” I smiled. I couldn’t believe how different he looked. To put it mildly, he looked like money. Not to mention handsome as hell. Secret had been right.

  “I’m glad you decided to go in with Secret. You gone be straight. I’ma make sure of it. I’m already setting up some gigs for you. I came through ’cause I wanted to give you some money to do a little shopping. Pick out some things.” He handed me a wad of bills. “Take Secret with you. She can help you pick the fits.”

  “Cool.” I gripped the bills.

  “Yeah, I got her,” Secret assured him. For the next half hour I watched as Kirk and Secret talked about the business. There seemed to be this unspoken chemistry between them. It was so clear that Kirk cared for Secret. But it was equally clear that she didn’t have a clue. Excusing myself to my room, I counted the money in my hand. There was a thousand dollars there. I couldn’t wait to go shopping just so I could spend it. I was ready for my new beginning.

  Chapter 13

  Isis

  I had to admit private dancing wasn’t all that bad. I actually dove into it head first. Not once was I nervous on my first gig. It almost felt as if I had done it before; walking into the room it felt almost natural to me. R. Kelly’s “It Seems Like You’re Ready” blasted out of the speakers, and it was like I turned into someone else. My body moved like silk, the lap dances I performed for my client were mesmerizing, so much so he paid Kirk an extra four hundred dollars. I walked away from the experience simply ready for the next. Not one regret. And to be honest, I’m sure all the boldness I approached it with was from all the anger I had built up for Bobbi. Either way, I took the torch and ran with it.

  Four weeks had all but flown by, and already I was saving again, putting away my nest egg, as Secret called it. At the moment I had no plans what I would do with it. But one thing was for sure: it would be my plan and mine alone. I soon learned that though Bobbi had hurt me I wasn’t broken, because each day I moved on for the better. Each day he grew further and further from my memory. And for that I was happy, because I was able to enjoy myself. Any contempt I held for him had to be buried deep within or I wouldn’t be able to go on. And allowing some nigga to cause me to fail was not an option.

  Tonight all work was turning into play. Secret and one of her friends, Trina, and I were hitting the club for some girl time. I had spent most of the day getting ready. Sliding through Styles Beat I let my girl Crystal hook me up with a sixteen-inch loose ponytail with a chopped-up, layered bang. Then Secret and I both hit up Macy’s for the perfect outfits and some shoes. Back at the house, Secret did my makeup; she was really good at that. At ten o’clock we were ready to hit the door, taking a few selfies before leaving the house. And I think it fair to say we were beat for status. Secret struck a pose so that I could snap her; she was rocking a black Guess cutout halter dress with some royal blue platform pumps. You couldn’t tell her nothing; she was knocking hos dead.

  Walking back over to the hallway, I gave myself one more look in the full-length wall mirror. I smiled at myself. My milk chocolate skin glistened with my pearly white teeth. The one thing I was always sure of was my beauty, no matter how hard times were. I was five foot eight, a hundred thirty pounds, with a jawline identical to Naomi Campbell’s; the only thing round on me was my perfect butt. Mrs. Tate had always told me I should become a model. I laughed at that, though; I didn’t have time to be pretty. But looking at myself in the mirror dressed in an all-white crossed-back, suspender cropped at the ankle jean romper, with a sleeveless red fitted halter top, laced off with a pair of Steve Madden red two-piece pumps, I could easily be mistaken for one of America’s Next Top Models.

  The pleasing stares once we stepped off in the club confirmed everything we already knew. We were classified bad bitches. T.I.’s “I’m Back” blared out the speakers as we made our way to the bar, and with every step I took that’s exactly how I felt. It had been a while since I felt like partying, but it was going down tonight.

  “Oh, shit, I’m already ready to hit the dance floor,” Secret chanted.

  “I know, right,” Trina cosigned. “ ‘Recognize I’m back,’” she sang along with T.I. “These bitches better know it,” Trina added, feeling herself.

  “Let’s get this drank first.” I stepped up to the bar.

  “Let’s do that. We ’bout to get lit tonight,” Secret confirmed.

  “Give me a shot of Crown Royal,” I told the bartender.

  “Damn, bitch, you going hard, quick.” Secret laughed.

  “I just need something strong real quick. That fire starter.” I chuckled.

  “Well, in that case, bartender, hit me with a shot of Hennessy,” Secret instructed.

  “Second that Crown Royal for me, too.” Trina put in her order. “Matter of fact, make that a double for me,” Trina added. Secret and I both gave her the side-eye. “Y’all bitches know I can drink. Shit, just blame it on Terry; that nigga still be puttin’ me through some shit.” Terry was her trifling baby daddy who for whatever reason she just couldn’t seem to leave alone. He had cheated on her with just about everyone in Miami, and still she was with him. The dude was a loser for real, a nickel boy who swore up and down he ran Miami.

  “I keep tellin’ you to drop that nigga like a bad habit.” Secret never bit her tongue, harsh advice or not.

  “Trust me, I am soon, I am so sick of his shit. But for right now this Crown Royal gon’ have to do the trick.” She chuckled. We all knew the chance of her keeping that threat was slim to none. But if it made her feel better to say it, we would go along.

  “Bottoms up then.” I laughed, then tossed my shot back. The warm feeling that tingled through my body went from my head to my toes. Coincidently at that very moment Trey Songz’s “Bottoms Up” blasted out the speakers. Feeling good, I pranced to the dance floor with Trina and Secret on my trail.

  Doing our thing on the dance floor for the next three songs, we were having too much fun. Tired, we headed back to the bar. “That was fun,” Secret said, out of breath.

  “Heck, yeah. Give me an apple martini,” I told the bartender.

  “I’ll take one, too,” Secret added.

  No sooner than I had taken the last swallow of my martini did ASAP Rocky’s “Fuckin’ Problems” blare out the speakers. “That is my song,” I chanted and wasted no time shaking my ass back to the dance floor. During the middle of the song I looked up to find Secret dancing with a tall chocolate brother with shoulder-length dreads. After a Lil Wayne song, followed by Rick Ross and Nicki Minaj’s “You the Boss,” Trina and I sat down while Secret was still dancing with ol’ boy.

  “Why y’all sittin’ down?” Secret strutted over to us with a grin on her face so huge I could almost see her gums.

  “’Cause we tired. Why you grinning so damn hard?” I shot back.

  Trina started laughing then stood up. “These damn drinks running through me. I’m going to the bathroom.” Her walk was a little unsteady but I wasn’t surprised: she had consumed at least six shots of Crown Royal, not to mention an apple martini spiced with gin. She was going hard for real.

  “That is a drunk bitch walking right there.” Secret chuckled, as she sat down next to me.

  “Nah, for Trina’s walk, who was that chocolate brother you was over there twerking for?” I made sure not to get off the subject.

  “Oh, him? Girl, his name Marco.”

  “You know you was giving his ass action. He is fine, though. I’ll jump his damn bones if it were me,” I added jokingly.

  “Yeah, he cute. But it ain’t shit poppin’, though.” She was nonchalant about it. But I knew better: she was all over that nigga. I had witnessed her give him a private dance off Rick Ross and Nicki Minaj’s song for free. So she could keep that “it ain’t shit poppin’, though” comment, because I was not trying to hear it.
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  I twisted my lips up so that she knew I wasn’t hearing it. “Why don’t you stop playing around, Secret. You know you feelin’ him, so you can stop while you ahead.”

  “I don’t know what you talkin’ about.” She continued to play dumb.

  “A’ight then, since you want to down play that situation. What’s up with you and Kirk?” The look on her face told me that question had caught her off guard. I waited for my answer.

  “What you mean, what’s up? Kirk like a brother. Your ass be trippin’, I swear.”

  “Secret, tell me you don’t see how he looks at you. Shit, it’s written all over his face.” I kept it real. “Ray Charles could see he got it bad for you.”

  “You done had too much of that damn Crown Royal,” she joked.

  “Ha ha. You funny.” I was sarcastic on purpose. “That nigga lust all over you. And you know it, too.”

  Standing up, she looked herself up and down. “Look at me, Isis, fine as I am. What nigga wouldn’t?” She tried to make her point.

  “Your ass know what I mean.”

  “I do.” She smiled. “Real talk, though, Kirk and I are too fuckin’ cool for that; it’s all about stackin’ this dough. Besides, being in a relationship with him would be odd . . . Remember we tried being boyfriend and girlfriend in elementary school. That shit did not work out.” We both burst out laughing. Just the thought of it was funny.

  “Yeah, I remember that catastrophe. It was too funny. Your ass was too bossy, just like you are now. Nothing has changed.”

  “Lies you tell. All lies,” she denied with a laugh.

  I was about to share an example when suddenly a caramel-toned fine brother stopped in front of us. “Hi,” rolled off his thick lips, which were surrounded by a perfectly trimmed goatee. Looking me in the eyes, he said, “My name is Trey.”

  I glared at Secret. She gave me the “go for it” blink. “Hi,” I replied with a bit of uncertainty.

  “I was wondering if you would like to dance.” He was bold and straight to the point.

  My hormones screamed HELL YES! But my mouth said, “No, I’m tired.”

  He smiled, and I almost fell into his arms. “Well, if you change your mind, I’ll be right over there.” He pointed to where he was sitting with two other dudes who were just as fine as he was.

  “Okay,” I said in a shy tone.

  We watched him as he walked away. “What the hell are you doing? I gave you the go ahead signal. Or are you blind or something?” Secret fired at me.

  “No I’m not blind. But you know that already.”

  “Then what the fuck just happened? That nigga was like a shade darker Derrick Rose. You trippin’. I swear.” She shook her head with disappointment.

  And boy, was she painfully right. I could have smacked my own damn self. “Trust, I hate myself for turnin’ him down . . . I felt like wrapping my legs around his waist and have him carry me up outta here.”

  “And you should have. The fuck.” Secret appeared appalled at my actions. “And it ain’t too late.” She sipped her drink.

  “I’m just not ready yet, Secret.”

  “Bullshit, Isis. Don’t let no punk-ass nigga like Bobbi steal your joy. Shit, you too bad a bitch for that.”

  “And that much is true.” I smiled. But it was easier said than done. Bobbi had taken something from me that would be hard to get back: trust and damn near humanity. The pain he had caused me was rooted deep. But the last thing I wanted to do was make another man suffer for that. So for now I just had to chill. Hanging with my girl drinking and dancing was enough for me. Fine-ass niggas like Trey would have to take a backseat, at least for now.

  But after turning his fine ass down, I had to have another shot. Two more drinks later we three took the dance floor back over and danced until we damn near passed out. Wasted as fuck, we drove home with everyone in the car on full DUI.

  Chapter 14

  Secret

  The last couple of months had been full of change around the house, all of which Isis, Penny, and I welcomed. Private dancing was bringing in plenty of money for Isis and me, and that trickled down to Penny. For the past few months we had been preparing for her graduation, and it was expensive. She took photos; we had to pay for cap and gown and a host of other things that came along with her being a senior. But Isis and I didn’t mind spending for whatever she needed, because she had done well in school. Her grades were up to par, and she had all intentions of attending college in the fall. We were very proud of her. And today was the day we had been preparing for: graduation day had arrived. I was overly excited and beside myself with joy.

  “Can I come in for a minute?” Penny stuck her head inside my bedroom door. I had just got out of the shower. I had my clothes laid across the bed for the ceremony.

  “What’s up?” I looked at her through my dresser mirror as I started to apply my Mac makeup. I had put hers on about an hour earlier, and she looked just beautiful. Penny was my twin; the only difference was she was a little taller than me and she had green eyes like Jackie. Mine were hazel brown. I could tell by the way she fidgeted on the edge of my bed something was up.

  “Well, I was wondering . . .” She paused. “I was wondering how you felt about the fact that Jackie will not be there for my graduation?”

  I should have known that was what was bothering her. Penny still had a soft spot for Jackie, and she wanted her to be there. She wanted her approval, for her to be proud of her. I felt bad that she had to deal with those emotions, while Jackie replaced all her emotions with a bottle, never once sympathizing with Penny or me. “It’s cool with me. I don’t expect nothing more of her anyhow. And you shouldn’t, either. Remember she came to mine an hour late . . . but I wasn’t shocked. I hadn’t expected her to show up at all. I figured she’d be somewhere laid out drunk.”

  “So you don’t think she’ll come today?” The sadness in her voice made me angry. I hated that Jackie put her through this.

  “Honestly, Penny, I just don’t know. But I wouldn’t bet my left kidney on it . . .” I didn’t like being so straightforward about our mother’s so-called love or lack thereof, but I always tried to find a way to be honest with Penny . . . “Listen, even if she does or doesn’t show, Isis and I will be there for you. And we are all you need.” Looking at her sad face from the mirror really bothered me.

  She let out a soft chuckle. “You know I bet people look at us and think our family is really fucked up and not normal at all.”

  I wanted to say I agreed, but validating it wouldn’t help her. I knew how our mother’s neglect could hurt. I had experienced it and suffered from it early on. But over time I got over it and moved on. “Penny, baby girl . . . you can’t be worried about what people think. Hell, half of them fucked up, too . . .” I turned to face her. “But I promise you this. This is your moment and can’t no one take that away.” I choked up. Tears rushed down Penny’s face. I reached for her; she stood and we hugged it out.

  “Like always, Isis and I are your family. You have two sisters, and we both got your back.” I let her go and stepped back to look at her. “Look at you, you so grown up and beautiful.”

  Penny laughed and sniffled at the same time. “And you know this.” She chuckled.

  “Now go finish getting dressed. It’ll be time to go before you know it.”

  “Right, and I don’t want to be late to my own graduation.” Without another word she skipped out of my room.

  The graduation turned out great. By the time Penny came down the aisle and stepped onto that huge stage, Isis and I were covered in tears. Penny, on the other hand, did not have one tear in sight; she walked across that stage with so much courage my heart almost exploded from excitement. Like I said, we would get her through. We would get each other through. The three of us would be okay.

  * * *

  Back at work a few days later I was feeling good about the dance Kirk had set up for me. They were paying an extra seven hundred dollars because at the last minu
te they added an extra song to the dance. And I was always happy to get the money. Stepping into the room, I was ready to shake my natural ass. I was dancing for two guys that partnered in the tattoo business. Starting off with a slow twirl motion to R. Kelly’s “Slow Wind,” I was so feeling the song, slowly making my way toward the light-skinned guy with the full-body tattoo. He was engrossed in my seductive moves but the ringing of his cell phone pulled his attention away. I could tell by the way his eyebrows moved it was important. His lips mouthed the word “shit.” He whispered to his partner and stood to leave. Approaching me, he leaned in and whispered softly in my ear, “Sorry,” then placed four hundred dollars in my G-string. And for that I gave him a wink. Shit, they had already paid Kirk two thousand for the dance. And I loved tips. Now focusing my attention on his handsome caramel-skinned partner, I was just as eager. I made sure he got a good glimpse of every roll and shake I had to offer. I danced to one more song, and when it ended he placed five one-hundred-dollar bills in my hand.

  “There’s more where that came from” fell off his lips. “A thousand for sex, no oral, and no more than twenty minutes.” He was detailed.

  Damn, with the twelve-hundred-dollar cut I would get from Kirk, plus the four hundred his friend had given me, and then the five hundred he had given me, I was cashing out. But even still, that thousand dollars sounded so good. “I don’t do that” helplessly fell from my lips. “That’s not what Kirk set up.” I wasn’t sure why I was explaining.

  He just smiled. “What Kirk don’t know won’t hurt him.”

  I gripped the five hundred dollars he had given me so tight in my hand I thought it might disappear. Shit, shit. A thousand fucking dollars.