Scandals

by Sasha Campbell

  “Did you get to see her on Tuesday?” I said, trying to change the subject before I got mad and went looking for Jordan myself.

  A sad smile curled her lips. “Yeah, she’s getting so big! Sophia’s ready to come home. I told her real soon.”

  I felt sorry for Honey because I knew in her own way she loved her daughter and wanted her back, but actions speak louder than words, and so far her actions said otherwise. From the things she had told me, it seemed like the foster family that had her was taking real good care of Sophia, and that said a lot. However, speaking from experience, even the idea of my child being in the system would have freaked me out. Thank goodness I don’t have any.

  “You’ll get her back just as soon as you get your life together,” I said, trying to be positive. I waited for her to say something, but we were interrupted by a tall blonde with the best pair of boobs money could buy.

  “Hey, Treasure, some guy’s asking for you.”

  I nodded at Pinky, then turned my attention back to Honey. “We’re not done with this conversation. You stay your ass away from Jordan and focus on getting your daughter back.”

  She nodded like a little kid does when they’ve been scolded. “I will, Treasure, watch and see.” I stared at Honey in silence for a few seconds, wondering if she really meant it.

  No time to be wasted, I reached for a baby wipe and rubbed it across my coochie, then sprayed some mango-scented body spray all between my legs before I slammed my locker shut, spun the lock, and checked it twice to make sure it was secure. If a customer asked for you by name, that meant they wanted to spend some money, and my regular customers were the ones who kept the bills paid at my town house.

  As soon as I met the heavy beat of the music, I sashayed across the floor and glanced at the small tables to my right and left. When I realized who was looking for me, I stopped dead in my tracks and cussed. It was my former boyfriend and the only man I’d ever been in love with. Damn. What the hell does he want now?

  “Well, well, well, if it ain’t my little treasure chest.”

  I was tempted to go back into the dressing room, but he’d already seen me.

  I dragged my feet in five-inch heels over to his table and huffed, “What the fuck you want?”

  “Came to see my favorite entertainer.” Halo smiled like I should be excited to see him. Whatever. I tried to turn away, but he grabbed my hand and yanked me back to him. “Now, is that how to treat me? C’mon, all I want is a few minutes of your time.” He held up a hundred-dollar bill just like he was giving a dog a bone.

  Why can’t he just leave me alone? I thought. But what bothered me most was that no matter how much I tried to deny it, Halo still turned me the fuck on.

  He was six feet with a medium build and a pair of green eyes that you could get lost in. Not to mention he had curly hair and the smoothest peanut butter brown skin.

  Halo was one of the first ballers I had hooked up with. I thought that maybe we had something there for a moment. He kept my hair and nails done and my pockets fat, and invited me to move in with him. But after two years, our relationship started taking a turn for the worse.

  I remember the first time he’d hit me. It was a Friday and I’d had a good night. Some rapper had hit the mic and the place was so packed you could smell money in the air. I had over a grand in my pocket and went home feeling damn good. I walked into Halo’s house, and the second I saw him sitting in a chair in the corner with the lights off, I knew something was wrong.

  He flicked on the lamp and rose from the chair. “What’s this?” he asked, holding up a business card.

  I shrugged my shoulders and lowered my purse to the coffee table. “I don’t know. What is it?” I said because I was too got damn tired to play guess who. Big mistake. As soon as I swung around, I was introduced to his left hook. Halo hit me so hard, I stumbled on the heel of my shoe and fell back against the end table, bruising my back.

  “Bitch, do you know who ya fucking wit? When I ask you a question, I expect yo yellow ass to answer!” Halo screamed.

  “What the hell you hit me for?” I whined. I brought my hand up to my nose and wiped away blood.

  “Why the fuck you think? What you doin’ wit some other muthafucka’s number in your pocket? You think you slick. Thought I wouldn’t find it?” He then knocked me to the floor and started kicking me in my head and shoulder.

  “Please, stop! I didn’t have no number!” I cried, pleading with him.

  “You fucking lyin’ bitch! I found this in yo pocket!” he screamed, sending spit flying everywhere. I tried to fight back, which pissed him off even more. He reached down and started punching me in the face and chest.

  “Please, don’t hit me!” But he wasn’t listening, so the only thing I could do was curl up in a ball the way I had always done as a child when I was being beaten with an extension cord. I couldn’t believe that shit was happening to me. Men handed me their numbers at the club all the time. I took it along with the tip, but I always tossed them out. I guess I forgot to get rid of this one.

  Halo was yelling at the top of his lungs and punctuating each word with a punch. I couldn’t understand how my man could treat me this way. “Baby, please, I love you!” I was bawling, but instead of him feeling sorry for me, he hit me even harder for being weak, and eventually with one hard blow everything went black. I don’t know how long I lay there before I finally managed to get to my feet. When I realized he was standing over me, I flinched and fell back down.

  “Let me find out you fuckin’ around and I’m gonna kill you.” He then spat on me and walked out of the room. I pulled myself to my feet, showered, and crawled under the covers. Hours later, Halo came to bed hugging and kissing me and begging for my forgiveness. When he started crying I felt so sorry for him that we made up. Before I knew it he was between my thighs pumping inside me.

  After that things were never quite the same. If I had any sense I would have left then, but I didn’t. I put up with his shit for three more months, hoping that if I tried harder he would love me, but the beatings kept coming and got worse. Eventually I got tired of it, and just like I had done at my foster home, I waited until he left, packed my shit, and moved the fuck out. Even then there was no getting away from him because Halo frequented the club, yet I stood my ground. It was over and no amount of tears was going to make me take him back.

  I was staying with Honey at the time in this roach-infested apartment she called home, desperate and too afraid to be by myself. Eventually Halo left me alone and found someone else to control, but he still continued to single me out from time to time just to see if he could get a rise out of me. What bothered me was the way my body responded to him. When he was around, I was aroused and frightened of him at the same time. I was starting to think I was always going to be a victim when it came to Halo, but I was determined not to. I had been beaten and abused most of my life, but back then I didn’t have a choice. Now that I was grown and in control, I had choices, and I chose to stay away from men like Halo.

  I glared over at him. “What do you want, Halo?”

  He gave me a devilish smile that made me nervous as hell. “C’mon, Robin, why you gotta be like that? All I wanna do is take you out.”

  I wouldn’t let that fool take my temperature.

  “We can go have crab legs or some shit like that.” He grinned, showing me his platinum grill. “I wanna see you again,” he said like I hadn’t heard him the first time. “How about it?”

  What made him think I would be interested in more of his drama? I threw a hand to my hip. “Halo, how many times I gotta tell you that shit’s in the past. Besides, ain’t you heard ... I can buy my own crab legs.”

  “You tryna say my money’s not good enough?” He gave me the sexy signature grin of his again, and of course my body—the freakin’ traitor—started to feel all tingly inside. He was sexy, sitting there licking his succulent lips like LL Cool J. That was no lie. I missed feeling his touch and I couldn’t help but th
ink about them lips down between my legs. That man could eat some pussy. He knew just how to apply just the right amount of pressure to have me screaming out his name. “Aww, c’mon, Robin. You know you wanna.” He was talking low in his Barry White voice. Like I would really fall for that shit. I’ll admit I had in the past, which was why he thought he could get over on me again, but I wasn’t having it.

  His green eyes traveled from my breasts down to my ass. “Damn, I miss that sexy body lying next to me. You know I used to suck the shit outta them titties. Don’t you?” Halo was so damn cocky. He knew I had loved the way he made me feel and the things that man could do to my body when he wasn’t trying to whup my ass. “C’mon, Robin. Admit it. You miss Big Daddy. Don’t you?”

  I rolled my eyes, making sure he knew I didn’t have time for his foolishness. “Nah, boo. I’m good. Now please leave me the hell alone.” I sharpened my tone, hoping to convince him I was dead serious.

  He placed both hands over his face, and when he lowered them you would have thought he had been possessed by Satan. His eyes instantly darkened, the muscle at his jaw twitched as he spat his venom at me. “You a smart-ass bitch. I’m tryna be nice and all you doin’ is shittin’ on a nigga. One of these days I’ma knock you off that pedestal of yours.”

  “I wanna see you try,” I snapped, then snatched the hundred dangling from his hand and walked away.

  I heard Halo laughing as I left. “You know you miss this dick. I’ma get you back. You just wait and see,” he said with way too much confidence.

  I froze. For some reason his threat sounded too much like a promise, and that made me nervous as hell. There was still some unfinished business between us. I just wasn’t sure what it was, but until I found out, I would never be free of him.

  5

  Monica

  “I’m going to grab us some more drinks.”

  I watched as Reyna’s date, Lamont, rose from our table and walked across the club to the bar.

  “So what you think?” Reyna asked as she leaned across the table so I could hear her over the music. Her eyes were wide with excitement. The club had an energy like nothing I’d ever seen.

  “I think the dancers are beautiful.” And that was saying it mildly. The dancers had bodies out of this world. They came in every shape and size. Asian, black, white, you name it, it was there. And with ass and titties for days—but one thing these women had that I didn’t was guts.

  “Girl, you’re just as cute as any other chick in here. Ask Lamont when you come back and see what he says.”

  If I had her flair and confidence, I just might be able to pull this off.

  “Hey, Ma ... how much for a lap dance?”

  I looked up at some short dude with thick glasses, standing over our table waving a twenty-dollar bill.

  Reyna glanced at me with a smirk. “See ... told ya.”

  I groaned then shooed him away like a pesky fly. The only reason he had approached was because Reyna had insisted we wear skanky gear. She had on a red minidress and black stilettos. My girl looked fierce. I still couldn’t believe I let her talk me into wearing a pink corset and a black spandex skirt that was so short, I was afraid to bend over. Not to mention I was wearing rhinestone heels that were more for looks than comfort. But I have to say I was glad she convinced me to come, because I was definitely having a good time.

  There was just as much going on off the stage as there was on. Men acted like they lost their damn minds every time a half-naked woman swung her hips past them. In a way I understood. There were so many women, my head was beginning to spin.

  But it appeared everyone’s attention was on this redbone chick. When she sashayed across the club, heads turned and followed her direction. She had long silky brown hair that you couldn’t buy in a bag and champagne-colored eyes that just stared at you until you turned away. I had been watching her all night, and I’d never admit it to Reyna, but I was jealous. She exuded confidence and had this walk that put Iman to shame. She was tall with perfect breasts, a small waist, and a nice ass. Not that I am gay, but you know how women are. We size each other up, comparing what we got. Well ... that chick they called Treasure had it all.

  “She sure knows how to work a room,” Reyna said. I guess she caught me staring.

  “Mmm-hmm, she does.” I tried to sound nonchalant, then turned away. I pointed up the stairs. “What’s up there?”

  Reyna stuck a French-tipped fingernail in the air. “The VIP section. That’s where they do the private lap dances.”

  I was clearly confused. “What’s the difference between the ones they do on the floor and the ones up there?”

  “More money, and almost anything goes. Which translates to, whatever you can get away with.” She laughed.

  I watched Treasure take some dorky dude’s hand and lead him up the stairs. The way he was smiling you would think she was leading him toward the gates of heaven.

  “You have to admit this place is nice,” Reyna said with enthusiasm. I watched her eyes flash like a camera as she took it all in.

  I couldn’t do anything but agree. “Mmm-hmm, it’s a lot nicer than I thought.” In fact, I was awestruck by the place.

  I guess I had been watching too many movies. I expected the place to be dark, smoky, and seedy, but instead it was plush and sophisticated. Scandalous was large and spacious with dozens of small intimate tables, bars on either end of the club, and three platform stages with a red crushed-velvet backdrop. The deejay was in a booth over in the corner and he was rocking the tunes just like at a regular nightclub. There were cages at opposite ends of the room with half-naked women dancing inside them. I was amazed and intrigued and half-scared out of my mind.

  Good girls don’t go to places like this.

  I jumped because for a second there I swore my mother was leaning over my shoulder, whispering in my ear. Ethel Mae didn’t play. She believed in going to church every Wednesday for Bible study and again on Sunday for worship. She had been tough and strict and rarely showed affection, but there was never any doubt in my mind she’d loved me. Two years ago she lost the battle and died of kidney failure. Her last words to me were that she was proud of me and glad I had somebody like Anthony to take care of me. I was glad she never found out how wrong she’d been. It would have broken her heart to see me struggling just like she had, trying to raise me alone after my father had walked away from us both.

  One thing about my mama, she had done whatever it took to make sure there was food on the table. I remember the men who used to come over. Almost a different man every week. When they would show up to the house, she would give me a few dollars and send me down the street to the arcade with strict instructions not to return for an hour. Back then I had no idea why she always got rid of me. It wasn’t until I was older that I had come to understand that working as a waitress didn’t pay enough to keep the lights on.

  I remember one time Mama had to work late and one of her male visitors showed up at the door. I had let him in and told him it was okay to wait. We were sitting on the couch with his hand sliding up my thigh when Ethel Mae finally made it home. She cussed him every which way, put him out, then beat me like I’d stolen something. It wasn’t until two days later that she sat me down and explained why she was so angry. At thirteen, that was a lot for my little virgin mind to handle. All I know to this day is if Mama hadn’t walked in when she had, there was no telling what might have happened to me. I grew up a great deal that day, and it wasn’t until I was much older that I developed a great deal of respect for my mother and what she was willing to do for us. It was because of her sacrifices that I knew it was my turn to do what I could to support me and my girls.

  Lamont returned with our drinks and leaned back in his seat, enjoying the show. As I watched him out of the corners of my eyes, I was curious if this was the freak Reyna had told me about who got off watching strippers.

  Another dancer moved onto the main stage dressed as a cowgirl in five-inch thigh-high boots, and all
eyes were on her. She wiggled her hips seductively to the music like one of those video chicks. She could work that pole, and I could see how my years of taking gymnastics could come in handy. I watched as she climbed the fireman’s pole all the way to the top, then extended her legs and slid down in a split. As soon as she rose again, she stripped out of her costume and dropped it to the stage. My mouth few open and I couldn’t pull my eyes away. She had the tiniest waist and the biggest breasts I’d ever seen. Moving to the beat of the music she grabbed the pole, bent over, and made her ass cheeks clap.

  The deejay hollered into the mic, “Fellas, show Mercedes some love!”

  Men and women flocked to the stage and showered her with cash.

  All I could say was “Damn.”

  “Shit, that’s one of the baddest chicks up in here.” Lamont whistled.

  Reyna swung around on her seat with attitude. “And how would you know that?” Avoiding the question, Lamont cleared his throat and focused his attention on the cage to his right.

  Chuckling, I figured that was my cue to go and find the bathroom. I rose and followed the sign to the back of the building. I stepped inside and performers were all over the room. It smelled like sanitary napkins and cheap perfume, and one girl was in the corner taking a hit off a joint. Any other time I would have been disgusted and turned around, but tonight I didn’t dwell on any of it. All I saw were the ones leaning against the wall counting their money, and my jaw dropped at the size of the stacks I saw. Ones, twenties, fives, you name it, it was all right there in front of me.

  “Uh, excuse me, but the bathroom is next door,” spat some skinny chick, sitting on the floor with attitude.

  “Oops, my bad,” I mumbled, then backed out the room and pushed open the next door on the left. As I stepped inside the bathroom stall, I couldn’t stop thinking about all that money. If I could make half of what these chicks were earning, I could save my car and catch up on some bills while I tried to finish school. I was a mother who would do whatever it took to raise my girls, and it was time to be true to my words.