A Day in the Life (2 page)

3

              "Ooohh. Your hair is cute, Taboo," Miss Behavin' complemented the minute I arrogantly strolled into the dressing room. Taboo was my stage name, because when I got up on stage, I put a spell on niggas. Motherfuckers were in a trance, not speaking cockily, just keeping it real.

Of course, I could feel a few pairs of eyes staring me down with resentment. In this game, jealousy came with the territory, and it only fueled my need to go even harder.

"Thanks, B."

"Who did it?"

"Oh, I went to the shop on Lee Road," I lied. I hated to sabotage Diamond's potential clientele and money, but I couldn't have these hoes mimicking my look.

Miss Behavin' eye-balled my clothing as I extracted it from my Louis Vutton rolling suitcase. She thought she was slick, but I knew she was just sizing up her competition.

"You brought some new outfits?" she asked nosily.

"Yes ma'am." I said pulling out the outfit. It was a one piece hot pink body suit outlined in rhinestones with matching garter belts and leggings.

"Damn, save some money for us," Miss Behavin' joked, but I knew inside the bitch was envious as hell.

I was one of the top bread winners and she, as well as all the other hoes, knew it. Yeah, I did what I had to do to get paid but I also did it with class. Any ole nigga just couldn't fuck with me. Thugs were definitely off limits. I was into the businessmen. The ones I knew wouldn't kiss and tell. They were the ones with the fattest pockets. The young thugs were mostly stingy with their loot, and the ones who chose to share only did it for attention and credibility in the club. They loved for bitches to flock to them as soon as they stepped foot in the club, but I wasn't one of those thirsty hoes that would fight over a nigga.

I was the one scoping the club for a man dressed in a suit, sitting alone, and looking content; because while the other hoes would be fighting over the street dudes, I would have a lawyer or doctor all to myself banking out half his salary. I was smart. And very observant. I had been in this game over three years and had learned a lot from it.

While Miss Behavin' was eye-balling me through the dressing room's window wearing her tired ass Mohawk weave, she should have been worrying about if her ass would earn a dime tonight. Hoes didn't know you had to spend money to make money. In this profession, your appearance was everything.

"Girl, I got my trick coming to break bread on me," 69 arrogantly blurted out.

"Who? John?" Miss Behavin' asked.

"Naw, bitch! Yes, John!" she said, making it a point for every dancer in the dressing room to hear her. That was code for every woman better stay away from her trick.

One thing about us strippers, we were very possessive of our clientele—as we referred to them. If a man came in here devoting all his attention and money on one dancer in particular, he ultimately belonged to us.

"Girl, ain't nobody thinking about that old ass nigga," Chyna chimed in.

I was glad somebody had said it.

Chyna was a bread winner also, much like myself. She was a very attractive red bone with the most sexiest pair of slanted eyes, hence the stage name. She had a banging ass body. Although most of it was paid for, I couldn't hate on her. She was bad.

It was Friday, so in other words it would be jammed pack tonight. Every dancer on the roster was here, and even a few auditions. With a full house that meant every dancer would only get to go on stage once. So the first impression was the last impression, and you definitely had to leave a lasting impression if you wanted to make an impact upon the crowd.

"Can you play me Waka Flocka Flame 'Round of Applause' and MGK 'Wild Boy'?" I asked our DJ, Tone.

He was a cute brown skinned fella, that tried to get me with me on the regular but I didn't want to mix business with pleasure. These tricks that strolled through here were strictly business, so I told these cats whatever they wanted to hear, but Tone...we worked together, and I'd have to see his face everyday if things didn't work out. I couldn't go there. But I definitely loved to flirt with him. There was no harm in that.

"69 already asked me to play her that Waka Flocka joint."

I handed him a crisp twenty dollar bill.

"But...uh...I did just forget what she told me to play," he smiled mischievously as he tossed the bill into his tip jar.

4

              I worked the floor since I knew that's where most of tonight's income would come from. The place was jam packed. The few Cavs players that were here were swamped with eager dancers all in their faces, and I was not about to fight for attention.

After scoping the room for any potential money, I located an older gentleman sitting alone at the bar, sipping on a Corona. He was wearing an expensive Armani suit and copper ostrich loafers. To the untrained eye, he probably looked like a nobody, but judging from his attire I knew damn well that he could afford me.

I sashayed towards him with purpose, ignoring the little young boys that were trying to get my attention. My attention was instead focused on my target.

"Can I sit next to you?" I asked, smiling that captivating dimpled smile that most men couldn't resist.

He raised his eyebrows and offered a half smirk.

"Sure! What's your name?"

I trailed a tongue seductively along my lower lip, hoping that I was working my magic. "Taboo. What's yours?"

We shook hands. "Kenny...and that's an interesting name." He motioned towards the bar. "Can I get you a drink?"

"A Mike's Hard Lemonade would be just fine. Thank you."

I might have been a hood bitch, but I still had manners.

I watch him discreetly pull out a twenty before he ordered my drink. He didn't have to play so modest. I already knew what it was.

After we wasted a little time shooting the bull, I asked him if he wanted a lap dance. One thing about me, that set me apart from the rest of the dancers, was that I actually took the time to build a rapport with these men. Most bitches would just approach a nigga and ask for a lap dance flat out, but I was respectful of enough to at least work my way into earning their money. I would ask about the weather, or if they saw the game, and then work my way in for the kill.

Most men could dig a respectful bitch over a bad one. Kenny paid for us to go into the VIP room, where whatever could go down for the right price. The VIP room had to be the club's most impressive aspect. It was classy but discreet. There were several red velvet curtains and behind each curtain was a leather couch, a small table and a complimentary bottle of red wine.

I wasted no time as I undressed and proceeded to give one of the best lap dances he had ever received. I was a confident bitch when it came to my body. I was bad and I knew it, so I didn't get pissy when men wanted to touch me. As long as they were willing to pay I was willing to play. Some of the girls in here had the nerve to get offended when a man would slap their ass. Honestly, how you could you get mad at a man for touching you when you were the one parading around half nude. Men will be men and I didn't have a problem getting an ass cheek squeezed here or a nipple pinched there.

"You have the prettiest tits in the world," Kenny said as he watched me sway my curvy hips from left to right. I was only warming him up for the full course.

I took his hand and placed it against my perky left breast. He moaned a little and then blushed. I assumed he was embarrassed by me seeing him so vulnerable.

"How much is it gonna cost?" he whispered.

Now he was speaking my language. "How much is what gonna cost?" I teased as I caressed my naked body and writhed my own nipples.

"To do it?"

I smirked. "Do what?"

"Whatever it is that you will let me get away with back here," he hinted.

"It depends."

He ran a hand along my toned tummy. "On what?" he asked. "Money? You don't have to worry your pretty little self about that." He fished in his breast pocket and extracted his wallet. "I have two hundred dollars on me right now but I could go to the ATM if thats not enough." He handed me two crisp one hundred dollar bills.

I folded the money up and slipped it inside my garter belt. "There's an ATM right beside the entrance."

He grimaced, straightened his red tie, and gave me a defeated look. "I'll be back."

I smiled. "I'll be here."

I watched him leave the VIP room, thinking he had another thing coming if he thought he was going to smash for two measly hundred dollars. I wasn't that cheap and I wasn't that pressed.

After he returned, I gave him a quick fuck and suck and left the VIP room seven hundred dollars richer. There were two more girls on the list before me, so I utilized the spare time I had by taking a quick shower and refreshing myself. Just because I had got done fucking didn't mean everyone had to know it and smell it.

As expected my turn on stage had finally arrived.

"Alright, alright now, gentlemen. I'ma need you to stop texting, stop talking...you ain't gotta stop drinking," Tone joked over the microphone. "But ya'll motherfuckers do have to fasten ya'll eyes to the stage, because next we got coming up is the one...the only...Tabooooooo!"

I sashayed towards the stage and climbed the stairs that lead to large wooden stage. All attention was focused on me just the way I liked it. The cat calling and whistling began before I could even start my routine.

I polished the pole off with rubbing alcohol before I could begin. After some of these nasty hoes would spread their ass cheeks on the pole, there was no way I was touching the bronze pole without sanitizing it first. The alcohol also helped me grip the pole better.

Waka Flocka Flame's "Round of Applause" boomed throughout the club and I was really feeling myself off my little cooler and two glasses of red wine. I wasn't one of these hoes that needed to be drunk or high to do what I did. Entertaining came naturally to me, but it was nice to have a little buzz to boost my confidence level a little higher.

I gripped the pole and did a sexy dance around it. My rhythm matched the beat of the song. Men began approaching the stage as soon as the chorus began. I climbed the pole and began clapping my ass wildly. It took me a whole year to learn how to do that little trick, and although I did have a few spills while practicing it, I had eventually mastered the pole tricks after three years.

I popped and gyrated my ass in the air as singles littered the stage in every which direction. Men were making it rain on me and the attention only caused me to get buck. I slid down from the pole and landed in a split position.

From the corner of my eye, I saw 69 run up the stairs to confront Tone. She had asked for him to play this song, but it was too late. I was making a killing off it. I worked the stage like the professional I had become over the years. Every man up at the stage received some up close and personal action as I bounced and gyrated my ass like my life depended on it.

5

After the first song ended, MGK’s "
Wild Boy
" boomed throughout the club and niggas really got hype, especially since the single was Cleveland's anthem. Money was flying throughout the air like crazy. It looked like a dollar bill thunderstorm up in the GP.

A lot of my singles fell to the floor and I even caught a few hating ass dancers pocket my cash. I wasn't gonna flip. There had to have been five hundred something singles on the stage, so I wasn't going to sweat the chump change.

Not to sound arrogant, but it was like every time I stepped up on stage, I shut shit down. Dancing wasn't the word. What I was creating on stage was art! Every movement I executed was done to perfection.

I flexed my butt muscles with the beat as more money flew everywhere. I was killing shit. Suddenly, John (69's trick) came limping up to the stage with his tired ass pimp walk.

69 didn't want anyone to fuck with her trick, but she didn't say we couldn't take his money. He ushered me with his index finger to come closer and I wasted no time as I danced my way over towards him standing at the foot of the stage.

"I can tell by the way you dance that you got some good ass pussy," he said. "Turn around, let me see that jelly!"

I turned around, bent over, and clapped my ass in his face. This nasty ass nigga had gone so far as to stick his big ass nose between my butt cheeks. I would have protested had he not been slapping twenty dollars on my ass cheeks.

From the corner of my eye, I saw 69 stomp over towards him and shove him slightly. "Don't be giving my money to these other hoes!"

"Bitch, I worked for this shit! Now raise up out my face and let me enjoy myself!!"

69 cut her eyes at me and stormed away.

I shrugged my shoulders in a way that said: "Oh well, what can I say?"

After the song ended, Tony brought me a black trash bag, and helped me collect my money. These hating ass hoes didn't even have the courtesy to help me pick my money up off the floor. I wasn't mad though. I did what I came to do.

John was following me around like a puppy dog after I got off stage and I had to tell him to give me a few minutes so I could clean myself up. After working the stage a bitch was sweaty as hell. I needed a second shower.

"Hey, Taboo?" Chyna asked stopping me before I could go up the flight of stairs that led to the dressing room.

"What's up?"

"You seen Luther around this motherfucker?" she had this apprehensive look in her eyes. I knew something was up with this bitch. Luther was a hood nigga that came in here occasionally to "pay for play."

"Naw, why? What's up?" I asked wiping away the beads of sweat on my forehead.

She looked around nervously. "The motherfucker paid me three G's to go home with him last night and I stiffed his ass. I ran out the back door," she explained. "Its too many niggas up in here to keep my eye on him and I was wondering if you could look out for him with me."

I shook my head and sucked my teeth. "Chyna your ass has to stop doing that shit," I told her. "This is nigga's money you playing with. You can't keep playing niggas like that, bitch, or that shit is gonna catch up with your ass"--

"I know, I know," she pleaded hopping from one heel to the other. "After last night I won't do the shit no more. I just don't want the nigga trying to run up on me and check me in front of everybody." She grinned. "Shit, you know I got a reputation in this motherfucker to uphold."

I laughed. "Alright, girl. I got you."

"Okay, I'm about to go up on the stage. Good looking."

Me and my trash bag headed upstairs to the dressing room. Several dancers were lounging around, talking on their cell phones, or smoking. I didn't know how these hoes could just sit around when there was so much money to be made downstairs. Some bitches just didn't have the hustle in them.

I didn't bother counting all the money I had made on stage. I simply straightened out the crinkled bills and stuffed them into two zip lock bags before locking them in my designated locker.

As I was freshening up, I noticed 69 looking at me enviously through the mirror. The bitch was obviously mad her trick was all up on me. But what was I supposed to do? Turn him and his money away. I wanted to tell the bitch to stop being mad and get over it, but she spoke before I could.

"Bitch, you knew John was mine, hoe!"

I turned around and looked at her like she'd lost her damn mind. I didn't know why women blamed their own insecurities on other women.

"Bitch, he may be yours, but like he said downstairs his money is his! What you thought, I was gonna turn down some money. Hoe, you got me fucked up," I said nonchalantly. I didn't have to get loud to make my point.

69 jumped her tall ass out her seat and quickly approached me. "Bitch, I don't step on none of ya'll hoes toes up in this motherfucker when it come to making money!"

I fingered through my wavy hair as I ignored her. My curls had fallen but the style was still cute.

"Bitch, you hear me!" she yelled, mugging me upside my head.

She mugged me so hard that I toppled over in my six inch heels and landed on the carpeted dressing room's floor. Had I fell the wrong way I might have twisted my damn ankle.

"Oh, hell no," I seethed quickly snatching my clear heels off.

69 wasted no time as she posted up. "What you wanna do, hoe?"

I grabbed her by her short bob cut and dragged her tall ass around the dressing room. Surprisingly, the bitch was strong. She had me beat as far as weight and height, but she couldn't throw hands. As expected she was all talk and no brawl.

I slammed her against a full length mirror which shattered into pieces upon the impact. A few of the dancers screamed and ran out the room while the others caught the fight with their cell phone's video camera.

I kicked her in the stomach as I held her by her quick weave, which was slowly disconnecting from her scalp.

"Bitch, I ain't the one," I cursed as I let her punk ass fall to the floor. I wasn't that corny to kick her while she was already on the floor. "Bitch, get that phone out my face before I dog walk your ass too!"

The other dancers quickly put their phones away as I headed towards my locker and retrieved my things. I had already made more than the quota I usually set for myself. I was out of here. Hell, I might even take the little money I earned tonight and put it with the money I saved up so I could get out of Cleveland first thing in the morning. I was just that through with this depressing ass city.

After I had quickly dressed I headed back downstairs to the club. I'd had my share of fun for one night--Suddenly I was met with the high pitched screams of women as I stepped into the crowded club. Bodies were moving in every which direction. The music had quickly stopped playing and everyone was running around frantically. It took my mind several seconds to register what was happening.

Luther was pistol whipping the shit out of Chyna and instead of anyone helping the poor girl people were running out of the club trying to get far away from this crazy motherfucker as possible.

The security guards were trying their damndest to break up the altercation but as soon as Luther lifted the gun in the air and started shooting all chaos broke loose.

"Bitch, I want my money!" he screamed, but by now she was unconscious and bloodied. Her nose was twisted at an awkward angle and her jaws were swollen three times their normal size.

One of the security guards was brave enough to grab him, so he could possibly subdue him but Luther shocked everyone when he fired two shots into the security guard's chest.

People were screaming and running over each other in an attempt to get out of the club before they were the next casualty.

Chyna quickly came back to life at the sound of the gunshots and tried to run away-- Without deliberation Luther fired a single shot that landed in the back of her skull.

I covered my mouth as the shocking scene in front of me unfolded. Luther quickly tucked his gun in the back of his jeans and ran out the back door of the club.

The sound of sirens wailing in the background brought me back to reality as I quickly ran out the club to my Buick. I cried all the way home. I had seen some fucked up shit in my life but never to the extremities of this. I had seen two people murdered tonight over some punk ass money. I pounded the steering wheel as I drove home. I didn't want this life! Not under these circumstances. I wanted more! I deserved more! But instead of going after more I was settling for less. I was a beautiful women, I knew there were plenty of opportunities out there for me. Maybe I could model. Maybe I'd fly to Hollywood and try to be an actress. One thing I knew was that I had to stop abusing myself.

I could remember when I was just a little girl; my mother would tell me that my body was my temple. Now all it was was a mere paycheck! I wasn't living life! I was living a nightmare! So lost in thought, I nearly ran over an old wino crossing the street while driving home. Frantically, beeping my horn, I cursed him out through my lowered window. My nerves were on edge.

At the next red light I pulled out my cell phone and dialed Kevin up. Surprisingly, he answered on the second ring.

"What's up, baby?"

A smile crept across my lips at the sound of his voice. Just hearing him emit those three words made me feel like everything was going to be okay. Everything was going to be fine.

"I need you to come over tonight," I told him. Honestly, I was too shaken up to sleep alone.

"Oh, you was just clowning a nigga earlier, but now you need me?" he teased. I could hear the smile in his voice.

It didn't matter what I did, or what choices I made, Kevin always looked and felt the same about me even after my own family had turned their backs on me. He wanted the best for me, and I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out why I couldn't want the best for myself.

"Whatever," I smiled. "You know I love you."

He chuckled. "Oh, now you love me too?"

I wiped away my tears as I slowly began to feel a little better. "Is that a yes or a no?"

"I have to see if my sister will let me borrow her car."

"I can come get you," I said eagerly. Kevin lived in the Garden Valley projects, which was about a five minute drive for me up Kinsman Ave.

"No, she will. Don't worry about it. I'll be at your crib in about fifteen."

"Bet," I told him before hanging up.