Free Wiser by Lexie Ray Page A

“good old days,” as we called them, at Mama’s nightclub was almost as painful as the drama we were enduring now. We still laughed and joked around, me leading this effort. But it was nothing like it used to be.
    We used to be happy, a closely knit sisterhood of girls living and working together.
    Now, it was fear that bound us together. We were afraid of Mama whether she was drunk or sober. We were squirreling away all the money that we could without arousing her suspicions, keeping it in shoeboxes and underwear drawers. We had reached a crisis point, and everyone knew it, even if we tried to keep up the illusion of everything being under control.
    It wasn’t. We were right on the edge.
    Everything had started going downhill after Jazz left. I hadn’t known Jazz like Cocoa had, so it was no surprise when Cocoa became quieter, more reserved, an undercurrent of worry coloring her every word. The only person who had witnessed the terrible situation was Cocoa, but all of the girls knew the gist of it. It was horrible to try to piece together the details, especially for the trio of girls who’d been deployed to clean up the room.
    “There was so much blood,” Daisy said, shaking her head. “We had to throw the sheets out.”
    But then, when Mama had driven Cocoa out of the window, everyone knew exactly what had happened. The broken glass, the bullet hole in the hallway carpet, Mama’s apparent descent into madness—everyone got worried. Girls started to leave, slipping away quietly, and the rest of us were doing all we could to pick up the slack without Mama noticing anything was any different.
    The one time that there was some semblance of normalcy was when the nightclub was open. It became something of a relief to be focused on working. Mama put her best face on, negotiating cutthroat prices for the pleasure of our company as we all did our part to impress.
    It was fun to watch all the other girls flirt and wait on our customers—that is, when I got the chance to watch. I was usually one of the busiest of Mama's girls, mixing all manner of drinks and slinging them onto trays. Each girl tipped me out at the end of the night, and I gave part of it to Mama. I'd always hated the idea of not holding on to my own money, but she was pretty adamant about "keeping it safe." I saw what "keeping it safe" bought Mama—fine dresses and facials and manicures. If one of us wanted to go buy some stuff, we'd make a withdrawal. But never more than a hundred bucks. That rule was instituted after Cocoa left.
    God, I missed Cocoa. I missed how easily she handled Mama and hated how I had to now try to fill her shoes.
    I sometimes wish I'd jumped right out the window after Cocoa rather than stay here. Here was getting too hard to be.
    "Hey Blue, baby!"
    I shook myself from my moping and grinned. It was Jake Fraser, or—as his business cards read—J-Fray, DJ Extraordinaire. He was one of two DJs Mama grudgingly allowed to spin at the nightclub. Mama was old-fashioned in her musical tastes, so it was always a pleasure for it to be club music night. The customers were often younger—and cuter—too, and more girls would dance. Everyone's spirits were higher on club music night—mine included.
    My reasons had less to do with the music, though.
    "Hey baby, yourself," I said, grinning and sliding him a beer. "How's it hanging?"
    "You know how it hangs, here," Jake said, leaning against the bar and taking a long pull from his beer. "Lots of gorgeous ladies, dancing to the beats I spin. I can't complain, Blue, except I wish I could see you shaking it out there."
    "Baby, if I shook it out there, everyone would go thirsty," I said with a wink.
    "There are other bartenders," Jake said, looking at two of my colleagues. "They can spare you, can't they?"
    "It's hard to be down the best bartender," I said, casually buffing my nails on my uniform blouse.
    "I know the real reason Mama keeps you behind the bar," Jake said, leaning close.
    "I wish