he answers with authority.
âNigga, you trippinâ. You ainât my man.â
âBut I wanna be your man.â
Uh-oh. Oh no. Here we go again.
âLet me call you right back,â I say suddenly, wantinâ to change the subject as I grab my purse and get out my car. I shiver. Itâs even colder at night and right now the winter season is bitinâ like a bitch.
âBefore you hang upââcause I know your ass ainât gone call me backâI want you to let me take you out tomorrow night.â
âThatâs Valentineâs,â I protest.
âAnd?â
Holidays. Dates. Phone calls. Relationship. What part of fuck buddies donât his ass get?
âIâm walkinâ in the store. Iâll call you back,â I lie as I push the remote to lock the car. Ba-boop .
âIf you donât call me back Iâma put your ass on dick knock off,â he says in a joking voice.
I donât even take his ass seriously. âBye, Corey.â
I close the phone and drop it into my bag as I step up onto the curb. The wind whips around me. The street is dark except for the flashing neon sign. Club XXXCite. I look at my reflection in the dark glass. I feel alone. So fucked up. Like Iâm backtrackinâ or some shit. But I feel like I ainât got no choice either.
Then why is it so hard for my ass to go in?
I light a cigarette and smoke that whole motherfucker plus another one. My hands and ears are cold. My leather jacket ainât doing shit to block the cold. My feet are freezinâ standinâ in the pissy snow. As men walk inside the club, the loud music and flashing lights come out the door. Itâs fuckinâ money to be made up in that bitch but so much more to be lost.
I drop the lit cigarette and crush it into the grayish snow with the tip of my boot before I walk inside the club. Itâs dark as hell and it takes a minute for my eyes to get used to it. The smell of liquor, weed, and body is familiar as hell to me.
âWhaddup, Juicy!â
I smile at the tall and muscular bodyguard dressed in all black. âWhaddup, Dogg.â
He wraps one beefy arm around me and pulls me close as hell for a hug. When he slaps my ass I feel like grabbinâ his nuts in my hand and pulling down âtil he screams like a bitch. âWhereâs Vic?â I ask instead as I follow Dogg to the circular bar in the center of the club.
âHe opened a new spot on Sixteenth Avenue so Iâm kinda runninâ this one while he gets that one all straightened out and shit.â
Doggâs breath smells like somebodyâs ass and I wonder which one of these dancers he done ate the fuck out. He use to treat the girls like they were his personal pussy playland and he probably still do. âWell I want to make some money,â I tell him as I squint my eyes and peep the shit goinâ on in this motherfucker.
Dancers in nothing but thongs and g-strings with titties hanging as they lap dance for the money. Two dykes are butt naked on the stage âbout to let everyone in on the shit they supposed to do behind closed doors. In the corner dollar bills are flying up in the air from a crowd of hot boys watching some bitch booty clappinâ.
Same-o-same-o I left behind.
âFor tips only?â Dogg asks as he raises a shot to his mouth.
âLike some new bitch?â I ask, kinda insulted. âYou know what Juicy can do.â
âWell, I ainât seen Juicy in a minute so I donât remember,â he throws back at me.
âPut me on after the clit lickers,â I tell him before walkinâ away from him.
I donât break my stride even when I see some random bitch under the table sneakinâ this dude a blow job. I did smile when I thought of Cristal pullinâ that same shit with her man in a restaurant. I ainât know she had it in her. Bitch swallowed and all.
Downstairs in the dressinâ room, that
The Sheriff's Last Gamble