“Patra?” Keisha asked.
“Who is this?” Patra sounded like she had been asleep.
“It’s Keisha.”
“Hey, Keisha. What’s up, girl?”
“Hey, I need a favor,” Keisha said nervously. “I had to leave the house and I was wondering if I could crash at your house for a little while?”
“How long is a little while?”
“Let me make some money at the club so I can find a place of my own. I’ll help pay the rent.”
There was a pause on the phone.
“Okay, you can stay on the couch, but my place is tiny, so you’re going to have to find a place of your own as soon as you can,” Patra said. “But come on over.”
“Thanks, girl.”
Keisha hung up and waited for the bus. At least she’d accomplished one goal. She’d gotten out of Veronica’s house.
The bus came and Keisha took a seat. She sat there, wondering why her life had been a struggle. It was like no one had her back, and she was constantly trying to figure out who was going to screw her next. Because in her life, there was always someone looking to get over.
She got off the bus and found Patra’s apartment building. She buzzed the door.
“Hello?” Patra said through the intercom.
“It’s me.”
“Come on up.” The door buzzed and Keisha dragged her bag up to Patra’s apartment. Before she could knock, Patra had opened the door.
“Whoa,” Keisha said. “You scared me.” She walked in with her bag and Patra closed the door.
“I can hear when someone gets off the elevator. You want something to drink?” Patra asked, opening her refrigerator. “I’ve got soda, beer, and an old bottle of champagne from the club.”
“I’ll take a soda, thanks.”
Keisha sat on Patra’s couch and looked around. Her place was neat, with glass shelves holding a TV and some pictures, and a black leather sofa and chair. It wasn’t a spectacular apartment, but Keisha was impressed. She didn’t understand how Patra could afford an apartment like this based on what she got at the Chi Chi Room, but she didn’t want to pry.
“So your mother kicked you out?” Patra asked, handing Keisha the soda.
“No, I left.”
“Why did you leave?”
Keisha took a drink from her soda. “She went into my room and took all of the money I’d been saving up.”
“Damn, your moms stealing from you? That’s fucked-up. How much did she steal?”
“About a thousand.”
“Fuck that,” Patra said. “Excuse my French and I’m not, but I would have stayed at that house and beat down that bitch for doing that. You don’t take my muthafuckin’ money. How come you didn’t just get the money back?”
Keisha took another sip of her soda. “Because she gave the money to her boyfriend, Robert, and it was too late. Plus, Robert’s not a fool to fuck with.”
“Why?”
“Because I think he takes pleasure in beating women, real pleasure. And if I were to confront him about taking my money, he’d go off.”
“Did he live with y’all?”
“That nigga would come in and out the house as he pleased. I haven’t seen him in about six months, but apparently he’s back in town. He slings, so that nigga’s never in the same city for any length of time. He’s probably back here in L.A. because all of the big-time dealers are in County, and he thinks he can make some money—probably with my money. But my momma is so damn stupid, she doesn’t even understand that this nigga don’t give a damn about her.”
“Sorry to talk about your momma like this, but dumb bitches are everywhere,” Patra said. “So what are you gonna do next?”
“I don’t know. Hustle and get as much money as I can as fast as I can, I guess.”
Patra looked at Keisha. They weren’t particularly close, but she did like her. And she kind of felt for her. But her space was her space.
“Look, you can stay here until the end of the month. But you’re going to have to pay a bit of rent, and you need to buy your own food, so don’t fuck with mine. At the end of the month, you’ve got to move out and get your own place. So do what you have to do with Sean, but make it happen.”
“Cool. That’s real cool.”
Patra studied Keisha for a second.
“There’s one other thing,” she said. “What happens in this apartment stays in this apartment. You understand? What I do is my private business, and I don’t want to hear about it. Don’t ask any questions. We clear?”
“Clear.”
Patra stood up and picked up both soda cans and walked to the kitchen. “You’ve lucked out because that couch is a sofa bed. So you can pull it out when you want to go to sleep. I’ll get some keys made and you can come and go as you please. The television has cable, and you can watch it all night long for all I care. I can sleep through anything. Put your clothes in the front closet, and then you’re all set.”
“Thanks, Patra,” Keisha said gratefully. “I won’t be a bother.”
“Sure, you will be,” Patra said, smiling. “But don’t worry about that. Bitches got to stick together, right?”
“Right,” Keisha said, smiling.
Chapter 6
All charming people have something to conceal, usually their total dependence on the appreciation of others.
—Cyril Connolly
The crew was all ready to do Keisha’s shoot, but there was no sign of her. She was late, and Steven hated people who were late.
“So where is the girl?” Steven asked. It was nine-fifteen on Saturday, and they were supposed to have started shooting Keisha at nine, but she was nowhere to be found.
“Is she flaking out, or will she be here?” he asked Ray, who was looking at his cell phone and dialing Keisha’s number.
“I’m finding out right now,” he said. “Hello?”
“Who is this?”
“This is Ray. Keisha, where are you?”
Keisha was sitting on the bus, and a street poet was in the back reciting poetry, to the consternation of all the passengers.
“Shut the hell up,” an old lady admonished the poet. “I just want to ride this raggedy bus in peace.”
“Peace, my sister,” the poet riffed. “Peace is about being in peace with oneself, and one’s universe, which is a piece of me—”
“I’m on the bus, about two blocks away from you,” Keisha said into her phone, holding her hand over her other ear, trying to block out the poet. “I’ll be there in about five minutes.”
“Hurry up and get your ass here,” he said, hanging up the phone. “She’ll be here in about five minutes. She’s on the bus.”
Steven looked disgusted. “Dealing with this bus-riding hood rat gets on my nerves.”
“You should let me pick up the hoes,” Marty said. “I’ll make sure they get here on time.”
“I’d rather have her get here on the bus,” Steven said, looking at Marty disdainfully.
He then turned to everyone assembled. This was going to be a shoot that featured Keisha, without any man in it. “Everybody get ready. She’s on her way.”
Keisha walked into the Vision Theater with her duffle bag in tow, and Steven smiled. Ray had been right. She was the exact type Steven wanted for his new video unit. Pretty, delicate, and she didn’t look like she’d been abused or in a street fight. He couldn’t wait to see her naked.
“You done good,” Steven whispered to Ray. He walked over to her.
“Hello, Keisha, my name is Steven Cox, and I’m the publisher of Pimp magazine,” Steven said, smiling. He wanted to put on the charm offensive as soon as possible. “Did you have any problem getting here?”
“No,” Keisha said, looking around unsurely. She wasn’t the nervous type, but she was a bit apprehensive.
“Good, can we get you something? Would you like some soda or water?”
Keisha put down the duffle bag she’d been carrying. “Water would be fine.”
/> “Kevin,” Steven screamed. Steven’s assistant came running. “Get Keisha some water, and then set up her space so we can get started.”
“No problem,” Kevin said. “Do you mind if I take your bag?”
“Go for it,” she said.
Steven took Keisha by the elbow and walked her toward Ray, who was sitting on the edge of the stage. On stage was a huge poster bed, and the crew was setting up lights all around it.
“Ray tells me that you dance at the Chi Chi Room. How do you like it there?” he asked, holding Keisha by the elbow.
“It’s fine. It pays the bills.”
“And that’s what’s important, isn’t it? Everyone’s got to pay the bills.”
Ray got up from the stage. “Good to see you, Keisha.”
“Cool,” she said. Kevin ran up with a bottle of water, and Keisha sat on the edge of the stage looking at them all.
“So how long is this going to take?” she asked, opening the bottle of water.
“The shoot shouldn’t take more than two hours,” Steven said. “After that, you’ll be out of here. I’ll even make sure to get you a ride home so you don’t have to take the bus. Not a bad way to make five hundred dollars, eh?”
Keisha stopped drinking her water and stared at Steven.
“Five hundred dollars?” she asked. “Sean told me that I was only making two hundred and fifty.”
Steven looked at Ray and started laughing.
“Goddamn Sean,” he laughed. “He’d cheat his mother if he could find a way. No, darling, you’re getting five hundred for this deal, not two-fifty. I’ll pay you personally. Pimp is a magazine of integrity, so we don’t bullshit you. If I tell you we’re going to pay you something, then we pay that to you.”
“You can trust Steven,” Ray interjected. “Sean—not so much.”
Keisha drank a bit more water. Again, Sean had tried to screw her out of money.
“Let’s get started,” she said, decidedly pissed off. She put down the bottle of water. “What do you want me to do?”
Steven sidled up to her. “The first thing is that I want you to be as comfortable as possible. If you find something you don’t like, then make sure to let me know, and we’ll make a change. You got it?”
“Yeah.”
“How old are you, Keisha?” Steven asked.
“I just turned eighteen.”
“Good,” he said, “because you can’t do a shoot without being at least eighteen. Did you just graduate?”
“Yeah.”
“From where?”
“I went to Crenshaw High.”
“Cool. I went to Morningside,” Steven said, laughing. “Way back in the day.”
Keisha smiled.
“Kevin, go get the forms.”
“I’ve got them right over there,” Kevin said, walking to the first row of seats.
“We need you to fill out these forms before we get started,” Steven said. He took the forms from Kevin and handed them to Keisha.
“They’re what we call boilerplate contracts, in that every magazine uses them,” he continued. “Just fill them out and let me know when you’re done. After that, we can get started. Kevin, help her if she has any problems.”
Steven and Ray walked onstage, and Kevin sat next to Keisha.
“Right here, you sign your name—”
Keisha shot Kevin a look. “I’m not one of your stupid hoes. I know how to fill out a form.”
“Sorry about that,” Kevin said sheepishly.
“No problem,” Keisha said. She filled out the form and then handed it to Kevin. She walked onstage.
“Ready to go,” she told Steven.
“Great. Kevin will take you over to the dressing room. Kevin is sort of our everything man. I need you to take off your clothes, and then Kevin will oil you down. You don’t mind, do you?”
“Just as long as he’s doing his job and not trying to get some sort of cheap thrill.”
Steven smiled. “You wouldn’t be getting a cheap thrill from rubbing oil on beautiful women, now would you, Kevin?”
“I try not to, sir,” Kevin said, with a faint smile on his face.
“Okay, see you guys in about ten minutes. Normally we’d do your makeup, but I think it’s perfect.”
Kevin and Keisha walked toward the dressing room.
“So you do whatever Steven tells you?” Keisha asked.
“Pretty much,” he said, opening the door. “It ain’t the best job, but it pays the bills.”
“That pretty much seems to be the modus operandi around here. We’re all just trying to pay some bills. So, what do we do?”
“It’s pretty simple,” Kevin said, reaching into a cabinet. He pulled out some clear oil. “Take off your clothes and then I’ll oil you down.”
Keisha took off her top, her bra, and then her pants and panties.
“Stand right here,” he said. Kevin started oiling Keisha from the legs and thighs up. “Wow, no tattoos.”
“Is that unusual?” she asked.
“Hell, yeah,” he said, as he kept oiling her down. “Almost every girl that comes in here to shoot has a tattoo of her boyfriend who’s doing a bid, or some knife mark from a fight gone wrong. They always have to touch them up after the shoots. If you want to make money, take my recommendation and don’t ever get a tat. You lose value that way.”
Keisha listened and felt Kevin’s hands on her body. It was like getting a massage, because he was gentle, very gentle.
“Okay, now I’m going to rub oil on your ass,” he said. “After that, I’ll do your tits and we’ll be done.”
“Cool.”
Kevin went slowly over Keisha’s ass and then went over the rest of her body.
“Why do I have to be oiled up, anyway?” she asked.
“Makes for better photos,” Kevin answered. “Steven thinks that too many black models are ashy in pictures. All right, we’re done.”
“Thanks.”
Kevin smiled. “My pleasure.”
“Look at our girl, everybody,” Steven said, as Keisha made her way back to the stage. There were catcalls from some of the crew and some clapping. Keisha always felt absolutely comfortable in her own skin and had no problem walking around naked.
“Okay, let me know what I’ve got to do,” she said, walking onstage.
“Great. Keisha, I want you to meet Jeff, our photographer.”
“Very nice to meet you,” Jeff said, extending his hand. Keisha shook it and then sat on the bed.
“I’d like you to be as natural as possible,” Jeff continued. “I’m going to be taking a lot of pictures, and all I need you to do is follow my directions. I know this is your first shoot, so I’ll try to go slow. Have fun with it and we’ll get really good photos. Plus, you’re beautiful, so you should have no problem. Right, Steven?”
“Right,” Steven said. “So let’s get started.”
“Okay, Keisha, I want you to get in the middle of the bed and just follow my directions,” Jeff said. “Lights, let’s get a reading on her.”
Keisha crawled on top of the bed and Kevin held a light meter. “We’re good,” Kevin told Jeff as he hopped off the bed.
“That’s it,” Jeff said, as he looked through his camera at Keisha. “Okay, now lie on your back, open your legs, and spread your pussy apart so I can see the pink.”
It was then that Keisha knew this was a lot different than dancing at the Chi Chi Room.
Jeff knelt at the foot of the bed and took snaps, as Keisha spread her pussy lips. Steven stood by silently, his hand on his cheek.
“Arch your back up a bit,” Jeff said, taking shots. “That’s it. Good girl! You’re working well, Keisha. Now smile for the camera. You’ve got to make it seem as though this is the most fun you’ve ever had in your life.”
Keisha felt as uncomfortable as she’d ever been, but she also felt strangely attracted to the camera. She was getting turned on and hadn’t expected to.
“Can I move around?
”
Jeff took the camera down from his eye. “There are some shots that I absolutely have to get, but then we can free-flow others. What do you think, Steven?”
Steven took his hand down from his chin. “I think we should let Keisha guide us for a bit. If she thinks she has a position that’s sexy, then let’s go with it. Let’s see what she’s got.”
“Cool,” Keisha said. She moved up to the headboard and placed a pillow right behind her head. She put her head on the pillow so that it barely reclined up. She then spread her legs slightly.
“Men like to feel that they can fuck the woman they’re looking at, so you need to have me in a fucking position,” she said. “Can’t you see a man on top of me?”
Steven smiled a huge grin. “Uh, yes, I can see a man on top of you. Now give me a sexy look on your face and, Jeff, do your thing.”
Keisha looked at the camera, and the look she gave was both innocent and sexy. It fed many demographics of Pimp readers, from the men who loved looking at a sexy woman, to the women who bought Pimp because they loved looking at women. Keisha nailed all of the looks, and Steven knew it. He had a winner.
Jeff took shot after shot of Keisha, and Keisha moved in any way she felt natural.
“Here’s a doggie-style position,” she said, getting on her knees. She was really getting into it.
“That’s good,” Jeff said. “Turn around and face the head of the bed, but look over your shoulder and directly at the camera.”
Keisha followed his directions, and Jeff began taking shots, slowly walking around her. “Hold that pose, Keisha,” he said. “You’re doing great.”
Keisha took directions well, and faster than she’d expected, it was all over.
“That was absolutely wonderful,” Steven said. “Absolutely wonderful.”
“I told you she was great,” Ray said, bringing Keisha a white robe. “When I saw her at the Chi Chi Room, I just knew she’d be great.”
“Did you have a good time?” Steven asked. “I mean, it’s really important that you had a great time with us.”
“Yeah, I did,” she said. And she really meant it. It was much easier to pose than to shake her ass all night, and she made guaranteed money. “So when do I get to see the pictures?”
Skin Game Page 5
