“Yeah, he’s not the most popular person for students at Crenshaw High,” Keisha said. “You missed out on a lot of future doctors and lawyers because of that man, and unless the two basketball players you took with minimum SAT scores decide that shooting hoops is not their future and something serious is, then my community is going to have just that many fewer educated people.”
“You’re preaching to the choir, Keisha, you’re preaching to the choir,” Britney said. “I do my best with the resources I have. But with students like you, hopefully we can build up our minority student population and retention. And that’s why I’m here. If you ever need anything, and I do mean anything, don’t hesitate to come in.”
Britney stood up and shook Keisha’s hand.
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
“Again, I want to say welcome to UCLA. I think you are going to do very well here.”
“I expect to,” Keisha said, walking to the door. “It’s my destiny.”
As Keisha took a leisurely stroll through the UCLA campus after her meeting with Britney, she began thinking back to an earlier time. She’d come to the campus on a field trip when she was in the sixth grade, and her dream had begun then. As she walked, she remembered her conversation with her first mentor.
“I’m going to go to school here,” she’d told her sixth-grade teacher, Mrs. Anderson. Mrs. Anderson had a light in her eye as she looked at young Keisha. Keisha had always been one of her favorite students, and she saw her potential. She’d knelt down to talk to her.
“Keisha, I’m going to hold you to that promise. I want you to go to UCLA because I went here, but in order to do that, you have to do something for me. Can you?”
Keisha nodded her head.
“To go to this school, you have to pay attention to your teachers every day. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Then you need to do your homework every day,” Mrs. Anderson continued. “Can you do that?”
Keisha nodded.
“After that, some people will tell you that going here is impossible, but I don’t want you to believe them. I want you to keep thinking that it is not a privilege to go to UCLA, but your destiny. And that destiny can be fulfilled only if you sacrifice and do whatever it takes to get here. And if you do all of this, Keisha, Mrs. Anderson promises you that you’ll be here as a UCLA student.”
“Mrs. Anderson, what did you study at UCLA?” Keisha asked.
“Women’s studies. I want to make the lives of women—and little girls like you too—better.”
“Then that’s what I’m going to study here,” Keisha said.
Mrs. Anderson gave Keisha a hug, and from that moment, Keisha made it her goal to be a UCLA student, and now she was this close. All she needed was money. But she’d made a promise to Mrs. Anderson to do whatever it took, and that’s what she was going to do.
Keisha got back to Patra’s apartment and logged on to the Internet. She had to work later on but wanted to at least get started.
“Do you need a ride to the Room?” Patra asked. She was putting her bikinis into the bag and rushing around the apartment. Keisha continued to sit at Patra’s computer.
“Yeah, thanks,” Keisha said, not looking up. “I’m all ready to go.”
“What are you looking at—porn?” Patra asked jokingly. She walked over behind Keisha. “Why are you looking at the UCLA Web site?”
“Because I’m going to school there in the fall,” Keisha said, filling out a form.
Patra’s face changed. “You’re fucking with me, right?”
“No, I’m not fucking with you. I got accepted into UCLA last month and I’m going to go in the fall. I’m trying to get some financial aid.”
“You are going to college?” Patra asked incredulously.
“Yep.”
“Then answer this question for me,” Patra said, looking down at Keisha. “Why the fuck are you shaking your ass at the Chi Chi Room if you’re going to college? Why are you fucking posing for Pimp if you’re going to college? You don’t need that shit.”
“And where am I right now?” Keisha asked, looking up. “Where am I now? I’m basically kicked out of my momma’s house and sleeping in your house. Do you think working at Wal-Mart is going to get me the money I need to get my own place, pay tuition at UCLA, and still have money for books and food? Stripping gets me cash, more cash than I can get anywhere else. And I actually don’t mind doing it that much.”
“I don’t know about the last part, but that makes sense. Are you going to keep stripping at UCLA?” Patra asked. “I mean, you wouldn’t be the first girl to strip through school, but it could get in the way if you ran into some UCLA students.”
“Don’t know. I’ll figure it out later.”
“Does Sean know about this?”
“Yeah, he knows a little bit. But he’s not taking it seriously. I mean, does he really give a shit about any of us as long as we shake our asses? I ain’t tripping off that nigga.”
Keisha got her duffle bag and walked to the door.
“All I want are some weekend dates, and then I’ll be cool with him. He can do whatever he wants after that. Let’s head out.”
“I got me a college girl living in my apartment!” Patra said, laughing. “Now let’s go shake some ass and make some money off these niggas.”
Chapter 9
Never work just for money or for power. They won’t save your soul or help you sleep at night.
—Marian Wright Edelman
Steven was sitting on his Hayabusa in the Chi Chi Room parking lot when Rosario da Silva rode up on her black Ducati motorcycle. “Do you expect trouble?” she asked, taking off her helmet.
“Would I bring you here if I didn’t?”
“No, I guess you wouldn’t.”
Rosario was from Brazil, and everything about her was small. She stood a little over five feet, with close-cropped hair and small, delicate features. No one would have guessed that she had killed five men as part of the Brazilian Secret Service. And that was exactly why Steven had her on retainer. She was his protection because no one expected her to be his protection.
“I expect to have a simple conversation about a dancer at the club I’m going to be using. Her name is Keisha, and we’re going to discuss Keisha’s future at the Chi Chi Room and with Pimp. It should go very well because Sean is going to make more money. But just in case, I decided to have you come with me. You know how Blackie can get.”
“My friend Blackie.” Rosario smiled. “Based on our last meeting, I don’t think we’ll have any problems with him.”
“And that’s why I brought you.”
They began walking to the club. It was around eleven, and the club was packed. Blackie was at the door, as usual.
“What’s up, Steven?” Blackie said, looking at Rosario. “I’m assuming that we’re going to have a pleasant conversation, aren’t we?” Blackie asked.
“All we want to do is talk to Sean,” Steven said. “No more, no less. It’s all up to Sean.”
“Blackie and I are old friends,” Rosario said, smiling. “Aren’t we, Blackie?”
Blackie rubbed his nose. There was a black line running from the bridge to his cheek. “We’re friends. But how about not breaking my nose again, friend?”
“As long as you listen to me when I tell you to do something, I think we’ll be okay.”
“Yeah,” Blackie said skeptically. “Follow me. Sean’s upstairs.”
Blackie looked them up and down. “Watch the door,” he told a colleague. “Come with me,” he instructed Steven and Rosario.
He let them into the club and guided them to the stairs. Patra was dancing onstage, and the men were going wild. She had a look on her face as though she were three thousand miles away.
Blackie led them up the stairs, their feet muffled by the thick purple carpeting. When they walked into Sean’s office, he was sitting behind his desk, working on his computer.
Sean finally
noticed Blackie, Steven, and Rosario.
“My niggas,” Sean said, grinning. Both Steven and Rosario sat down, while Blackie left.
“I’m here to discuss Keisha,” Steven said, after giving Sean a handshake.
“Keisha, yeah, she’s going to be good. How did the photo shoot go?” Sean said, sitting back in his chair. He rocked back and forth.
“It went well,” Steven said. He took out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. “Although after I talked to Keisha, we both realized that we had a certain difference of opinion. And funny that it involved you.”
“Difference of opinion? What do you mean?” Even in his chair, Sean twitched nervously.
“Well, Keisha and I started talking, and she told me,” Steven said, puffing on his cigarette, “that you told her she was only getting two hundred and fifty dollars for the shoot. Now I know I told Marty that she was getting five hundred, and he swore he told you that she was getting five hundred. So now I want to know whether or not it was a simple misunderstanding, or if you were trying to cheat Keisha. Because if you were trying to cheat Keisha, I consider that an attempt to cheat me. And if you were trying to cheat me, then that would make for bad business between us in the future. Do I make myself clear?”
Sean put a finger in his ear and began wringing it furiously.
“Look, I think I just must have forgotten the amount when I talked to Keisha. Marty is probably right. So did you already pay Keisha her money?”
“Of course I did. I always pay my girls immediately. And here’s”—Steven put a hundred dollar bill on Sean’s desk—“your referral fee.”
Sean picked up the hundred dollar bill and put it into his wallet. “You didn’t come here to give me this hundred dollars,” he said. “And you certainly didn’t bring Rosario here because you thought I might be cheating Keisha. What’s this really all about?”
Steven smiled. “This is about Keisha, and her future.”
Sean leaned back in his chair, wondering what Steven was up to. “Yeah, Keisha has a good future here. I think we’re going to do some good things.” Sean started looking at his computer and mindlessly typed something. He turned the computer toward Steven.
“See,” Sean continued. “I’m about to add some more days for her.”
“That’s good. That’s good,” Steven said. “But that’s not enough. I want Keisha headlining here. I want you to make sure she’s working the Friday and Saturday shift, and I want her keeping all of her money, with no kickbacks to the club. She needs to be the Chi Chi Room’s feature dancer.”
“I don’t understand,” Sean said, shifting in his chair. “Why do I have to do any of that?”
“Because for all intents and purposes, Keisha is now Pimp property,” Steven said. “Plain and simple, I want the men in here to want her. I want them to want to see more of her. Build a clientele. And then I’m going to do what I need to do to get them more of her. In the meantime, I’ll consider it a personal favor that won’t be forgotten.”
Sean stared at Steven, trying to take the measure of him. It pissed him off that some former lawyer could walk in his club, a club he’d built from his father’s work, and demand that his girls do this or that. But still, he wanted to keep a relationship with Steven, and he wasn’t about to fuck that up because of one trick at his club. If Steven wanted Keisha for some shit, then Steven could have her. Plus, Sean knew that Steven still held some incriminating evidence that could find Sean spending five-to-ten as a guest of the California prison system. Better to give up a trick than to tempt fate. Plus, bringing Rosario meant that Steven wasn’t going to take no for an answer anyway.
“Done. But I’ll have to make some changes around here, and they might not go over well with some of the girls.”
“That sounds like your problem, not mine.”
“Right.” Sean picked up his cell phone and pressed a button. “Blackie, send Debra up.”
“She’s about to go onstage,” Blackie said. “Do you still want to see her?”
“Bring her ass up.”
After about a minute, Debra, wearing her bikini for the stage, walked into Sean’s office.
“What the fuck, Sean? I’m about to go onstage and I’m missing out on money,” she yelled.
“Shut your ass up, and stop bitching,” Sean said. “I’m making some changes. You’re off weekends, and you’ll be taking Keisha’s schedule.”
“Keisha’s schedule?” Debra said incredulously. “What the fuck am I getting Keisha’s schedule for? She just got here. I’ve been working here for years, even when your dad was running the club. I earned my spot here.”
“I don’t give a shit how long you’ve been working here, you’re getting fucking old and now you’re going to have your nights taken,” Sean said belligerently.
“That’s some bullshit, Sean, and you know it!” Debra shouted. “I earned my Fridays and Saturdays, and fuck it if I’m going to give them up. Fuck that shit, I’ll go to another club!”
“Don’t make checks you can’t cash, Debra.”
“Fuck you, Sean!”
“I see you’re still running your business the same way,” Steven said, smiling. “If you need to talk privately to Debra, we’ll go out into the hall.”
“No need to leave, because I’m out of here,” Debra said, walking past Sean. Before she walked down the stairs, she turned. “Fuck you, Sean, and you’re gonna pay for this shit. You fucked with the wrong bitch.”
She stomped down the stairs, and Sean sat back in his chair.
“See,” Sean said, “I control my hoes. They do what I want them to do, even if they don’t like it. But that’s bitches, you know. They need guiding and I’m the one to do it.”
“Yeah, you control your bitches,” Steven said ironically. “That you do.” He and Rosario stood up to leave. They walked to the hallway, then Steven turned back. “One other thing, Sean—as I said earlier there will be no more kickbacks from Keisha. Make money with her at the bar and at the door for as long as you can, but don’t look for kickbacks. For the other girls, we can talk. Understood?”
“Yeah, yeah, I understand,” Sean said.
“Good doing business with you.”
Steven and Rosario made their way down the stairs, where they almost bumped into Keisha, who was going into the dressing room.
“Hello, Keisha,” Steven said.
“Hello, Steven,” Keisha said, surprised. “What the hell are you doing down here?”
“Fixing a problem,” Steven said, smiling. “By the way, I’m going to be calling you very soon. I have a proposition for you that could possibly make you a lot of money.”
“If it’s illegal, I’m not interested,” she said.
“I’m a lawyer, Keisha. I may straddle, dance around, or hover around things illegal, but I never cross the line. It’s legal. It’s just whether or not you are willing to take a risk.”
Keisha looked Steven directly in his eye as she tried to figure out what he was up to. And Steven never flinched.
“I’ll wait for that call,” she said, walking to the dressing room.
“You won’t have long to wait. Check you later.”
Keisha walked into the dressing room, where she saw Patra putting on her clothes. Patra had finished her sets early and now was going back home.
“Girl, Debra is pissed off at you,” Patra said, putting on her top.
“She’s pissed off all the time, so what’s new? But what is it this time?”
“She said that you are taking her slots on the weekend.”
Keisha’s mouth opened wide. “I didn’t take her spot. Who told her that shit?”
“I don’t know, but Sean told her a few minutes ago that you were replacing her and that she was going to have to take your spot. You sure you didn’t ask Sean for that weekend shit?”
Keisha put down her duffle bag. “Yeah, I asked him for the weekend, but I didn’t tell him that—”
Right then, Debra came into the dressing r
oom, sweating from dancing onstage. When she saw Keisha, everyone in the room froze.
“Well, if it isn’t the bitch that stole my days,” she said icily.
“Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Keisha said, settling in front of the mirror. She started taking off her clothes. “I told Sean that I wanted to work weekends, but I didn’t say shit about taking you off weekends. So don’t be going around saying that I took you off. That was his shit.”
“That’s why I hate working with bitches,” Debra said, her eyes boring through both Patra and Keisha. “You can’t trust ’em, and I don’t trust your ass. I worked my ass off to get those weekend days, and now some new bitch is going to come in and take them away from me? Fuck that. I’ll leave first.”
“Debra, you can believe what the fuck you want to believe, but I don’t give a fuck. I told you that I didn’t have shit to do with it.”
“Watch her,” Debra said, looking at Patra. “She’s in your apartment, and soon she’ll have your man.”
Keisha stood up and walked over to Debra. “Look, bitch, I ain’t done shit to you. But when you start telling other people that I’m going to do something to them, then you’ve crossed the line. If you don’t have something good to say about me, then I suggest you keep my name out of your damn mouth. Do I make myself clear?”
“We’ll see, Keisha, we’ll see. Once you stab someone in the back, you tend to like doing it over and over and over.”
“Seems like you know that from personal experience.”
They stared at each other, like hens fighting over a rooster.
“Break this shit up,” Patra said, now fully dressed. “There’s nothing I hate more than two women fighting over stupid shit. Keisha, you get ready to get onstage, and Debra, you get your ass out of here.”
Keisha walked back over to the makeup table, and Debra walked over to the closet and grabbed her long coat. She slipped into it and tied it. She then grabbed her duffle bag and stormed out of the room.
Skin Game Page 7
