Heartbreak of a Hustler's Wife: A Novel

by Nikki Turner

  Once they had their hands stamped, they proceeded down a corridor called the International Hall as directed. The hall, which led to the main club, was lined with huge glass cages. They were all connected, but each was separated by partitions like one would see in a museum. And each had an opening designed for tips to be slid in.

  “Damn, this shit is fly.” Bambi looked around the club in awe at how laid out it was. It truly was like a mini fantasy world nestled in the outskirts of the city.

  “It is,” Yarni admitted. “They are cashing in off the oldest profession in the book.” And in the next breath, she advised her sister, “You need to get the guy’s card who owns this place. I could see you planning a hell of a bachelor party here.”

  “Me too, but let’s focus on what we’re here for.”

  As they strolled down the International Hall, every glass cage had a girl’s name and what country she originated from. There was a look only, no touching policy for these girls, but if a patron wanted a private dance, he could get it by dropping a minimum of a hundred dollars in the cage. After doing so he would put on headphones that rested in front of the window, prompting the girl’s theme music to automatically come on for her to dance to in a fashion indigenous to her country. It was customary that the gentleman would tip her while she danced. Other bypassers could tip her without hearing the music. It was a creative and innovative idea, and it worked.

  Seeing the women from around the world decked out in their native but skimpy costumes was intriguing. Both Yarni and Bambi admired the thought put into creating this gentlemen’s experience as they surveyed the glass cubicles. They saw a Moroccan belly dancer, a girl from Switzerland looking like she was about to yodel, a dark-skinned Nigerian girl who could have been a model, a Japanese geisha and a Tahitian treat.

  “Damn, this shit is entertaining. I’m about to get me a dance,” Bambi said, distracted by a sexy Indian girl with a red dot on her forehead doing an exotic Bollywood dance.

  “Girl, how about we get what we came here for first,” Yarni said. Her eyes caught sight of a woman dressed in a burka. At first all that could be seen were her eyes, then she started undressing, seductively. It didn’t matter what the name of the god her admirers prayed to was, they unanimously agreed she was divine.

  “Okay, now I got why people say this ain’t your average strip club. It really isn’t.”

  They spotted a room with a sign over the top that read, “Welcome to Atlanta,” and they could hear Young Jeezy’s song “Make It Rain” playing as they walked in. This was obviously where the club kept the big booty black girls with bodies like superheroes. There were a couple of big spenders flipping money around like it was counterfeit.

  A girl that had to be at least six feet tall wearing a shirt that read These are my real boobs walked over and greeted them. “Welcome to Atlanta. I’m sorry, but it’s a private show. A lucky man has rented the entire city.”

  “There’s no way we can get in?” Yarni asked. She wanted to be sure Roxanne wasn’t inside before they left.

  “Sorry.” The girl shook her head. “Not for at least another two hours. But I assure you there are some dynamite acts in other parts of the club.”

  “Well, we’ll have a drink and be back, but if you can get us in sooner, we’d appreciate it.” Yarni handed the amazon chick a crisp Franklin. The girl took the money but looked at her like she’d been insulted. Yarni’s ego was bruised a bit because she could usually persuade a pitbull off a meat truck. “Damn, am I losing my swag?” she asked her sister.

  “Naw, we just out our lane, that’s all,” Bambi said. Exotic dancers ran the entire place.

  They took a seat in the main forum and ordered a drink. “Do you see her?” Bambi asked, as Yarni scanned the club. “Because this doesn’t look like the right place—excuse me, the right part of the world we’re in.”

  “I know she works here. At least that’s what Sister Mary told me. Now, how she knows that’s probably another story. It seems like the only black chicks—well, American ladies—are in Atlanta, and Roxanne does have that stripper look.”

  Yarni was observing how the men were going crazy.

  “Well, all we can do is wait until Atlanta ain’t under siege anymore,” Bambi told her, then was distracted by the girl performing on the main stage. “Damn, look at that chick.” Bambi was amazed at what the girl was doing. “That’s talent, and please, by all means keep that hooker away from my man.”

  The girl was performing an acrobatic move that required a handstand and the flexibility of a rubber band. Then she rolled or tumbled, into a split.

  Yarni stared at the young contortionist in awe, then, for the first time, she got a look at her face. “That might be our girl!”

  “Damn, she musta been the Twister champ back in the day,” Bambi said.

  After getting a better look, Yarni was sure it was Roxanne and nodded her head in confidence, “That’s her, that’s Roxanne!”

  When the waitress returned with their drinks, and Yarni asked her, with an extra forty-dollar tip, “Is there a way you can set up a VIP for us with her,” she pointed to the stage, “Please?”

  The waitress eyeballed the expensive clothes the two ladies were wearing, looked at Bambi, then back at Yarni. She tucked the two twenties into her bra. “It’s possible, but I need a little more incentive.” She cracked a greedy smile.

  For a split second Yarni considered ringing the washed-up broad’s neck, but she caught herself. Coming to the aid of her sister, Bambi handed the waitress another bill, this one a Franklin. “Now, make it happen.” Bambi shot the girl a look as if to say, “And if you think you get one iron dime more than that, you must be smoking crack; you better be able to do some tricks or something.”

  The buck forty did the trick.

  The two sisters were about to discuss the greedy waitress getting her hustle on when they were approached by a funny-looking, rail-thin black dude with high-water pants and round glasses. “You two look good,” he complimented. “If you ever need a man to join your twosome, I’d love to be of assistance,” he offered with a cigar hanging out of his mouth. “You won’t be disappointed.” He winked.

  They shot him down in unison. “No thanks.”

  After he left, Bambi leaned in and said to Yarni, “Girl, they think we gay.”

  “Ahhh, yeah. Well, we are together at a strip club with female dancers,” Yarni reminded her.

  Just then the waitress returned with a guy wearing a tight black suit. He had no salutations for the sisters, just got straight down to business. “To VIP with Roxanne it’s a thousand for one of you and five hundred for the other, plus tips—cash. But if you run it on your credit card, it’s a twenty-five percent processing fee.”

  The lawyer in Yarni wondered if all that was legal, but her thoughts were interrupted when Bambi leaned in and whispered into her ear, “You still wanna save this bitch’s life?”

  “Stay focused, you know why we’re here. Call it community service.”

  “A’ight, Captain Save-a-Ho, let’s cough up the cash,” Bambi said as she went into her purse. “I can contribute like three hundred. You know my husband got us in the poor house.”

  “Don’t worry about it, I got it.” Yarni peeled off fifteen big face Benjamins from the cash Tangaleena had given her. She was glad she hadn’t had time to go to the bank and make a deposit.

  Once they produced the money, the man gave someone else a thumbs-up, then directed Bambi and Yarni past a door that read “Red Light District.” The other guy then led them to a door on which he simply placed his finger, and his fingerprint caused the door to unlock. This door led to a hallway with red carpet that had private rooms off to each side. Their temporary escort opened the door to room number four. He faced the two sisters with a stern face. “You have two songs,” he said.

  “That’s all we get? What is that, like six minutes?” Bambi asked, feeling robbed without a gun.

  The man looked at them and said, “Normal
ly it’s one song, the man said, but since there are two of y’all, I’m being nice, allowing you two cuts. Just make sure you tip Roxanne good.”

  Yarni saw the expression on Bambi’s face and quickly intervened. “Two songs is all we need. Thank you, sir.” She gave him a look that said “Get the hell out so we can get this show on the road.”

  “Enjoy!” He flashed a fake smile as he started to exit the room. But before he left completely, he added, “Roxanne will be in shortly.” He took his time standing there, like it was customary for people to give him a tip. But what he didn’t have, he wouldn’t get from them.

  “This is some shit, you know that, right?” Bambi asked when he was finally gone.

  “You mean it’s the shit, or it’s some shit?”

  Before Bambi could answer, the door opened and Roxanne walked in. When she caught sight of Yarni she was a little confused and looked as if she’d seen a ghost or something. “Oh my God, First Lady, I wasn’t expecting you and I know you wasn’t expecting me either. Should I just leave and act like neither of us saw each other?” she asked. “I know it’s awkward.”

  Yarni read the girl’s face. Her eyes darting back and forth between Yarni and Bambi. That’s when it dawned on Yarni what the young girl was thinking—that she was there with her lover. Yarni quickly corrected her. “No, this is my sister, and we are here to see you, Roxanne.”

  “Well, I’m one of the top girls here. If you want the cream of the crop, you got the right girl.” She smiled, licking her lips.

  “Not quite, honey,” Yarni said in a tone as if to advise young missy to put on the brakes and not flatter herself. “Now, we did see you perform and you are very gifted.” Yarni gave her the once-over. “And your outfit is very exotic.” Roxanne had changed into a skimpy tiger print number.

  “If you are not interested in having an ‘experience,’ then why are you here?” The girl, still in hustle mode, now grew suspicious.

  “Because I wanted to talk to you about what happened on Sunday.”

  “Talk to me about what? I was there just like you were,” Roxanne said nonchalantly, as if it was no big deal. “I got my shit stole just like everybody else. Now my ass gotta work overtime just to break even.”

  “Cut to the chase.” Bambi was frustrated with the girl and knew the clock was ticking. “Look, ain’t nobody here for no lap dances, no head or no pussy.”

  Roxanne got offended. “I don’t give head.”

  “Okay, yeah right, whatever.” Bambi rolled her eyes, knowing homegirl was damn lying. “Look, my sister is here because she’s a compassionate type of person and she just paid over two G’s to save your ass. So stop the bullshit.”

  “Save me from what? This club? The life that I’m living? You can’t save me, because I don’t want to be saved, not from all this cash I’m making. Within the next five years I’ll be retired, with my white picket fence and doing whatever I want to do.”

  “No, honey, trust me, she’s not here on no first lady missionary trip,” Bambi corrected the girl.

  “Look, I wanted to talk to you because on Sunday you were with one of the guys who robbed the church,” Yarni said before Bambi’s mouth took them two steps back.

  “And?” Roxanne snapped. “I had no part of that madness.”

  “Right,” Yarni said, studying the girl’s eyes. “But you know something about it,” she accused Roxanne in a firm tone. “You can either talk to me now or you can deal with the repercussions when my husband finds out different.”

  “And let me be the first to say that door number two is not going to go over well,” Bambi added.

  Yarni tried a different approach. “Let me ask you something, did you ever see the movie Jaws?”

  “Yeah, I saw all of them. But what does that have to do with anything?” Roxanne asked.

  “Look, basically, if you don’t talk to me, I’m going to have to pass your name over to the sharks, and right now they are hungry for any information but starving to find anyone to get revenge, any way they can.”

  “This ain’t no bullshit game and nobody’s pulling your leg. My sister is only trying to help you,” Bambi said.

  Roxanne took in the words being spoken to her by the tag team pair. After thinking for a moment, she stated, “I was with the guy, but I didn’t know him like that. I met him and we spent a few days together. I told him that I belong to the church. He told me he wanted to change his life around too. So I invited him to come.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Dick.”

  Now they were getting somewhere. “Last name?” Yarni drilled.

  Bambi laughed. “That’s some ole bogus name—you know that, right?”

  Yarni elbowed Bambi because she knew that the drink she’d had was getting to her. She normally had a smart mouth, but tonight there was no stopping her. Yarni continued her line of questioning as if Roxanne was a witness on the stand. “Did you have a last name for Mr. Dick?”

  The girl dropped her head. “I don’t know it, though. And now that I think about it, he played me too.”

  “How?” Yarni asked.

  “Because I had asked him when I first met him, which was like a month or two ago, to come to church. He kept making up excuses why he couldn’t come that Sunday and then the next. Then out of the blue, the night before the robbery, he was suddenly all excited about going with me. We spent the night together. He’d happened to pack his suit and overcoat in his car. But when all that shit popped off at church, I was just as stunned as everybody else. And to top it all off, he took my purse too.”

  “Do you know where he’s from?”

  “No, I don’t.” She thought for a second. “I caught him in a lie, though. At first he said he was new to the area and he didn’t know anyone here. Then he said he had a cousin that lived here. Besides that, I don’t really know much about him.”

  “Are you sure?” Yarni pressed. “You don’t remember anything at all? Like where he lives?”

  “Nope, that’s one of the reasons guys deal with us. We don’t ask any questions. He was a big spender and I didn’t want to drive him away.” She was visibly disappointed at not being more help. “Damn, I feel horrible.”

  “Do you have a phone number for him?”

  “I did, but when I tried to call him after the robbery, to ask him what the hell he was thinking, the number had been cut off. I mean like immediately.”

  Yarni wanted to take what the girl was saying at face value, but she knew she still couldn’t trust her completely.

  Roxanne must have sensed Yarni was still doubting her. “I promise you on my life that I didn’t know anything like this was going to happen. Had I known, I would have never came over to talk to you or even brought him with me to church.” She dropped her eyes, then immediately lifted them again, her face lighting up like a bright idea had just popped into her head. “Oh my goodness, I might have something.”

  “I’m listening,” Yarni said.

  “Well, the first night we were together, he made a call on my cell phone because his was dead. Whoever he called got mad because he’d used my phone. I could tell that much from the one side of the conversation I could hear. I remember the person getting mad and hanging up on Dick. He later told me it was his cousin.”

  “Well, can you call your cell phone provider and get the number? Go on the Internet and search for it or something?”

  Roxanne shook her head in disappointment. “Nope, I have a prepay phone and I don’t get a bill. They won’t allow me to even see calls I’ve made.”

  “I might be able to legally get your phone records if you sign off on it.” Yarni threw the statement out there more to see the girl’s reaction than anything else.

  “Okay, no problem. I’ll sign whatever you need me to.” She sounded sincere. “I really want you to catch him, because what happened was really fucked-up and I’m sure people in the church probably think I had something to do with it, but I honestly didn’t. Besides, when you catch him
, I may be able to get my purse back from him. It was a Gucci, not one of them knock-off joints either.”

  “Okay, first things first, let’s get the number he called. I’ll need you to come by my office to sign a release. If I’m not there, ask Layla, my legal assistant, for it.” Yarni dug into her purse for one of her cards and handed it to Roxanne. “Here’s my address and phone number.”

  “Not a problem at all. I’ll come by tomorrow.”

  “Sorry to come to your job like this, but I had to find you. I wanted to talk to you before someone else in the church puts it together and passes you on.”

  “Believe me, I appreciate it.” Roxanne cracked a warm smile to Bambi and then said to Yarni, “Do you mind if I ask for a favor? While you’re here, and since you have a couple more minutes, would you mind saying a prayer with me before you leave?”

  Bambi could not believe her ears nor her eyes when Yarni took both of their hands and began to pray. Upon Yarni’s “Amen,” Bambi remarked, “They ain’t never lied when they said God is everywhere … even in a damn strip club.”

  “Amen to that,” Yarni said, giving Roxanne a hug.

  Street Royalty

  If the crowd on the street was any indication, Scrooge had done it again. Ever since he’d gotten signed to a major record label, his name stayed ringing bells. He’d just released his new single and this was his third album release party in the city. The party was going down in the grand ballroom of Hotel Opulent. Lava finally found a spot on the third level of the parking deck to park her Lexus. After squeezing between two SUVs, she killed the engine and reached for her purse.

  Desember pretended not to notice the pearl handle nine millimeter that Lava pushed to the side as she searched for her MAC lip gloss.

  “Okay, lil cousin, there’s a couple things you need to know.”

  “Like how to find the bar and dance floor?” Desember joked in a real Southern drawl. “I know you think Flowerville’s from another era but I’ve been in a club before.”

  They both laughed.