Free A King is Born by Treasure Hernandez Page A

King; the dudes could have it their way with her.
    Upon arriving in VIP, Tasha quickly spotted her “vic” in the crowd. Actually, he spotted her, grabbing her by the waist as she walked by, catching his finger in her thong.
    Tasha slapped his hands away playfully. “You’ve got to pay to play this game, baby, but it’s the best ride you’ll ever get. Worth every cent,” Tasha said, Keesha right beside her.

    Tasha didn’t have to worry about Keesha jacking her game, because there wasn’t a bitch alive that could game a nigga like she could. Her swag came from years of practice. She had been got by many a nigga before she flipped the roles and started getting them. When she first got in the game, dudes used to basically throw at her whatever they felt like, because they could tell she was fresh meat. But that didn’t last long. She quickly wised up, and started taking dudes for everything they and their wives had. It was her suaveness, loyalty, and dedication that convinced Manolo that she should be top dog, pulling her from working the streets to being in charge of the other girls.
    But that was back then and this was now. Even so, Tasha was seasoned through and through, a thorough broad who didn’t have to try too hard to get what she wanted. Her sex appeal was natural; she never had to force anyone’s hand. Niggas flocked to her like flies flocked to shit, and it was all because of her confidence.
    Tasha could be standing next to Buffie the Body, Melyssa Ford, or any other industry chick, and intimidation would still be foreign to her. If she wasn’t the baddest bitch in the room when she entered, by the time she exited, everyone would know her name. It was all about her aura, the way she carried herself, and her confidence level—the make-up of a true diva.
    She was always on top, and another chick could never outshine her. Tasha was wifey material on the outside. God had blessed her when he had molded her. But nobody was perfect, and she had her flaws about her.
    Flint was small, and her promiscuous past had tainted her. Even though Tasha may have appeared to be wifey material on the outside, no man wanted to turn a ho into a housewife. As notorious as a Manolo Mami might have been, in good old-fashioned street terms, she was still considered a ho. So instead of being wifey, she was always the side chick that niggas came to when they needed some relief from the nagging ways of their main squeeze.
    Tasha resented the choices she’d made in her life. She wished she could have turned back the hands of time to the beginning of her adolescence, the time when her life got crazy and she’d slipped into the clutches of Manolo. She couldn’t blame it all on Manolo, though. Even though he was her pimp, he had her head because she allowed him to have it. She had always been a strong, independent woman. That’s why anybody who knew Tasha back in her high school days couldn’t believe she was doing the things she was known for doing today.
    Back in high school, Tasha ran with the popular clique, a group of chicks that was not only beautiful, but brilliant, and stayed on the honor roll. Her teachers never had a single problem with her. Co-captain of the drill team, she’d earned varsity letters for drill team competitions. She knew she was all that, and never needed anyone to tell her, especially a man, which was why she, herself, couldn’t believe she was in the predicament she was in today, turning tricks for the VIP in a strip club.

    â€œYo, ma, money ain’t a thing,” the dude in VIP told Tasha. “I got it to spend, if it’s worth it. I’m trying to see you tonight after everything settle down,” he said, looking her up and down and licking his lips. “What’s your name?”
    Same line, different nigga. Tasha tried her best not to seem bored with his lame ass. “Tasha,” she replied as she leaned in to