Free Live and Learn by Niobia Bryant Page B

never talked about a man. I said whoever the m’fer was, he’s a broke-ass joke since we had to pay for the abortion.
    Now on to Alizé. Just found out she’s steady givin’ up the rhythm to some cat on the low behind Rah’s back. Riskin’ all that good money Rah be givin’ her for some dick. Stupid.
    And Cris. I thought I saw her ass grinnin’ and chinnin’ with some white dude last night. I ain’t had time to ask her, but I know she ain’t lookin’ for no cream to go up in her coffee.
    But I ain’t even got time to worry ’bout nobody else’s shit right now. I got mad problems of my own. Peep ’dis. Lex bust out last night— after I done sexed the hell out of him—and told me to stop dancin’.
    Say what? Say who?
    Seems some of his boys saw one of my shows and was braggin’ ’bout all my skills up on the Ave. Now he’s straight lost his mind talkin’ ’bout it’s him or strippin’.
    When we met six months ago I was dancin’, so why all the drama now?
    Some people are doctors, nurses, teachers, or preachers. Me? I’m a stripper.
    I’ve been dancin’ ever since Dawn, my crazy-ass cousin from Florida, put me d’ to the mad loot she make dancin’ down in Tampa. So I took a G-string, a smile, and a copy of my birth certificate to Club XXXcite—the hottest strip club in the Tri-state area. I auditioned, makin’ sure I shook the hell out of what Diane gave me. I got the job on the spot. That was two years ago.
    Shee-it, I still remember my first night onstage in nothing but that same G-string and a smile. Dem fellas foot-stompin’, hollerin’, and applause vibrated against my body. I got loose and made that money. Five minutes later I strutted my ass offstage with four hundred dollars in tips and a bunch of knuckleheads trying to holla at me after the show. The owner had been on me like I was his next big money-maker. All of the glory went to my damn head, and I been shakin’ it like a saltshaker ever since.
    I waited about two months before I clued Diane and the girls in on my new career. Cristal stopped speakin’ to me for about two weeks—like I really gave a fuck. Alizé told me as long as I didn’t shake my business all up in one of her boyfriends’ faces, then she was straight with it. Moët, who I thought was an undercover freak, was just actin’ nosy askin’ me a bunch of questions. And Diane, well she had a fit ’til I dropped two bills in her lap.
    I never sold my ass.
    I never gave blowjobs in one of the private rooms.
    I never put on a lick fest with another bitch.
    I never even gave hand jobs.
    I NEVER CHEATED ON THAT M’FER.
    Why he trippin’?
    Needin’ to talk to some damn body, I rolled out of bed and walked barefoot into the living room. Diane and Kimani were watching Hustle & Flow .
    “My Mama’s ’wake,” my child yelled out, runnin’ over to me at full speed.
    I caught her and swung her up on my hip. “Lex wants me to stop dancin’,” I told Diane, ploppin’ down onto the couch next to her.
    “And who the hell died and made him your daddy?” Diane reached for the remote to put the TV on mute.
    My daddy was another damn story. Sometimes I thought about his cracked-out ass…most times I didn’t.
    “I thought I schooled your ass, but you up in here tellin’ me ’bout what some man want you to do?”
    “Oooo, Mommy, Diane mad,” Kimani sang, her hands playing in my jet-black, shoulder-length weave.
    “Damn right, I’m mad,” Diane yelled. “You got a child to take care of and bills to pay. To hell with what Lex want. If his behind can’t get with the program, then drop his ass. What you call yourself, in love or sum’n’?”
    I ain’t even get a chance to answer.
    “See what love got you the last time,” she told me, lookin’ over at Kimani.
    The doorbell rang and I was glad that somethin’ shut her the hell up. Why I opened my big mouth thinkin’ I could talk to her?
    I got up off the couch with Kimani’s heavy self still wrapped on my