An Urban Drama

by Glenn, Roy

  Lorenzo stood and put his hands behind his back. “Good-bye, Nina,” Lorenzo said as the deputy put him in chains.

  “What am I supposed to do now?”

  Lorenzo smiled at me and mouthed the words sell drugs.

  Five

  When Lorenzo was sentenced to life without parole, the reality of my situation finally began to sink in. I was alone, I was about to be broke, and I was depressed about it. I stayed in bed for a few days. When I did get out of bed, I wouldn’t come out of the apartment. Everybody came by to holla; make sure I was all right. I told them all the same thing: I was fine and just needed some time to get myself together.

  One afternoon, a friend named Amel came by to see me. She worked as a masseuse at the spa that I used to go to. She had been my masseuse for the last couple of years. I knew she did a little private dancing on the side, but there was a whole other side to her that I never would have even suspected. When an attendant walked in on her while she was having sex with one of her customers, she got fired. And yeah, that customer was a woman.

  It took me a minute to come to grips with that fact that the woman who had her hands all over my body was, as she called it, a woman who believed in choices. She said she hated the term bisexual. By the time that happened, we’d become friends. Our relationship had gone beyond her providing me with a service, so I accepted her. We could be cool as long as she never came at me like that, and she never did.

  In spite of that, Lorenzo would have freaked if he knew. Although he’d never admit it to me, gay and bisexual woman intimidated him for some reason. “Maybe it’s because we come at a woman on a level that he could never understand, much less compete with,” Amel told me once, but that shit was too deep for me to even wrap my mind around.

  Naturally, I couldn’t afford to pay her for her services now, so she dropped in to gossip and smoke a blunt. “What are you gonna do now, Nina?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not ready to sell drugs, and I’m definitely not ready to get a job,” I said, but that was exactly what I should have been ready to do. I had a degree in business administration. I could hear Lorenzo telling me that I was a young, beautiful woman, and that I had the rest of my life in front of me. Still, I wasn’t ready to make that choice.

  “Why don’t you dance?” Amel asked me.

  “I never even pointed my mind in that direction, but I could damn sure use the money.”

  “And it’s good money. You’re a very pretty woman. You’re young, your breasts are big and firm, and your stomach is flat.”

  “And I have the kind of ass that makes men follow me around.”

  “You’ll get nothin’ but paid. Believe that.”

  “Okay, you talked me into it. Who do I need to talk to?”

  “Don’t worry, Nina. I’ll take care of everything.” Amel went on to explain that she worked for an agency that provided dancers for private parties.

  “Y’all just dancin’, right?”

  “Some of the girls sell pussy; some don’t, if that’s what you’re asking me,” was Amel’s answer. Never saying one way or the other which side she came down on. “I can tell you the money is out there if you want it. I can also tell you that it’s something you’d have to decide on your own.”

  Anyway, two days later, Amel called me and told me she was on her way to dance for a private party. She asked me to come along. “You don’t have to dance if you don’t want to. Just come with me and see if it’s something you can do.”

  I said cool, so she came to pick me up to go to the Hyatt. When I got in the car, Amel wasn’t alone; some guy was driving. “What’s up, Nina?” Amel said, as the guy drove off. “This is Ricky. He’s my security. Ricky drives me to all of my jobs; stays with me during the show, just to make sure that everybody behaves themselves, then drops me off at home when I’m finished.”

  “What up, Nina?” Ricky said. He was a large man with a thick West Indian accent.

  “Hi,” was all the greeting that my nervous ass could get out.

  “If you decide to get in this business, you better find somebody like Ricky that you can trust,” Amel advised.

  When we arrived at the suite, the party had already started. It was a small set: just four men who all looked like business types. Once Amel got her outfits ready, she began her show. I stood in the doorway and watched her as she danced in the middle of the floor, then for each man. While Amel danced, she allowed the men to touch her. But when one got a little too happy with his hands, she would move away or remove his hands. As I watched, I thought I can do this. I was definitely a better dancer than she was. I could shake my ass like a salt shaker.

  When she came back to the room to change clothes, she asked me, “Well, what you think?”

  “I wanna try.”

  “I was hoping you would say that. Take off your clothes.”

  “What?”

  “No time to get shy on me now. I got an outfit that would be perfect for you. My breasts aren’t big enough to fit it right.”

  It was at that moment that I had to decide what I was going to do. If I felt uncomfortable getting undressed in front of a woman who had seen me naked plenty of times, how was I gonna do it in front of a room full of horny-ass men?

  I began to undress; then I tried on the outfit she had chosen for me. It was black and lacy and fit me perfectly.

  “Perfect. Now pick a name for yourself,” she instructed.

  “Simone, no doubt.”

  “I’ll never be far away from you. Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  The radio was playing and the only thing that was keeping me from throwing up was the dollar signs I saw when I closed my eyes. I opened my eyes, moving my body seductively to the music as all four men stared at me. Once I made my way to the center of the room, I began my show. I moved my hips in wide circles as I made eye contact with each man in the room. They were hypnotized. I let my ass drop practically to the floor a few times; their eyes and mouths opened wide. They all started throwing money on the floor around me—mostly ones, a few fives, a ten, but no twenties. I guess I had to do more than just bounce my ass a few times to earn a twenty.

  I started to pick up the money. “I’ll get it,” Amel said. “You keep dancing.”

  While Amel gathered up the money, I began to move around the room. I danced around to each man, just as I had seen Amel do. One of the men grabbed me and tried to pull my bottom off, but Ricky took care of that. “Take it easy, Mon. You get the whole show soon enough,” he said, proving his value immediately.

  As I danced, I looked around for Amel. She had changed into a different outfit and was dancing around the room. Once she made her way to me, she said, “Pick out another outfit and get back out here as quick as you can.”

  I made my way to the bedroom and closed the door. While I looked for another outfit to put on, I heard the men beginning to get loud as Amel worked her show. Once I had changed, I cracked the door a little to see what was going on. By this time, Amel was butt naked. She was standing on the coffee table; one of the men was lying on the table with his face in perfect position so that every time Amel dropped her body, she had her pussy in his face. I closed the door and went straight to the mini bar. I grabbed the first bottle I got my hands on—Jack Daniel’s—and downed it. “Whoo! That’s some rough stuff.”

  I burst through the door and got back to it. The men started yelling “Take it off! Take it off!” I turned my back to them and came out of my top. With one arm covering my breasts, I turned around, swung the top over my head, and threw it to one of the men. He put it on his head as I lowered my arm and moved around the room quickly, shaking my tits in everybody’s face. Once I reclaimed my spot in the middle of the floor, the music changed. One of my favorite old-school slow jams came on: the live version of “Reason” by Earth, Wind & Fire.

  At that point, I closed my eyes and tried to forget the fact that I was in a room dancing naked, for a bunch of strangers who, before that day, I wo
uld have never let near me, much less let touch me. I thought about Lorenzo. I missed him so much and wanted desperately to feel him. In my mind I was dancing just for him. With my eyes still closed, I slowly and very seductively wiggled my way out of the bottom of the outfit. When I opened my eyes, every eye in the room, including Ricky’s and Amel’s, were on me. Once again, I swung my outfit over my head and threw it. It landed on the floor and two of them dove for it. One grabbed it, immediately smelled it, put it in his mouth, and let it hang from his teeth.

  I moved closer to one man and turned my back to him. I slowly bent over and allowed him to slip a twenty-dollar bill into my garter. He got so close and was looking at my ass so hard, I thought he was going to try to crawl inside me. As a thank you, I softly clapped my butt cheeks together and moved on to the next one.

  One down, three to go, I thought as I slithered to my next stunned victim. He was hard, rock hard. I could tell by the print that was lying parallel to his thigh.

  “Damn, baby,” he whispered.

  “You want to talk to me?” I purred. I couldn’t believe I said that, but I might as well have some fun with this. “That’s right. I can be your ho tonight if the price is right,” I started to say, but thought better.

  “Yes,” he answered, then started slinging curse words at me. “You’re getting me hard as a rock. Bring it a little closer.”

  I obeyed his command and moved closer to him. They were all drunk, but he had passed drunk and moved to fucked up. He unzipped his pants and began to masturbate. No he didn’t take that little dick out of his pants. On the inside, I was laughing all over myself until he said, “That’s it, you nasty black bitch of a whore.”

  Oh, no he didn’t. I thought, but I guess that’s what I am today. I quickly dismissed the thought of cursing him out.

  I crept onto the floor and onto my back; I spread my legs and allowed him to talk dirty to me as he slipped another twenty into my garter. I thanked him by pulsating my pussy before rolling over to the next man. He was already there, shirt unbuttoned, tie loosened, pants down to his ankles, choking his limp dick. “Go, go, go!” he shouted as he finally reached his climax.

  Gross.

  One move from me sent him over the top, and he threw his wallet at me. Amel grabbed it, emptied all the bills that were in it, and handed it to me. I took it between my breasts. I let him slide his wallet from between them, then gently pushed him at arms length, until his back was against the wall. I was shaking the twins at him along the way as I prepared to make my exit.

  The last man was sitting in a chair, so I danced my way behind him. I leaned over and pushed him out of the chair. “Turn around and look at me,” I demanded as I took his seat. I was really getting into the spirit of this now. He stumbled to his feet and turned around. He loosened his tie as I pulled my legs back, practically behind my head. He stood there mesmerized as the others looked on. He started rubbing his head, and before I knew it what was happening, he was on the floor. I guess he was so drunk that he passed out.

  We were there for an hour. After we left, Amel handed me two hundred dollars, and I had made another two hundred in tips. I became a private dancer, and the money got nothing but better. Amel took me along on all of her jobs, and every time she called me I got no less than two-fifty plus tips. Most nights I came away with five hundred dollars. I had quite a few customers who tried to proposition me, but I would tell them I was just there to dance, get my money, and leave.

  Then I got lucky.

  Amel called me and said she had an easy gig that night. “It’s just one guy and he said he would pay big-time for two, so come on and get paid. We’ll pick you up in an hour.” When we got there, though, the guy said he would only pay if he got to watch us take a shower together. “I wanna watch the two of you do each other, and then I wanna join in. How much would that cost me?” the guy asked.

  “Fifteen hundred, each,” Amel said quickly.

  I said, “Oh, hell no!” Got my shit and got out of there. It was a good thing that I did to, ’cause that guy was a cop and he arrested Amel. That was the end of my career as a private dancer.

  Six

  Now I was addicted to having that cash again, so once again, I had to decide what I was going to do. What I decided to do was something that I swore I would never do. I walked up in a strip club and asked the manager for a job.

  My thinking was that I would be all right onstage dancing, ’cause I would just dance and the customers would bring me money. That’s what I was used to from working with Amel. I would dance around the room teasing men, then they’d pay me.

  Unfortunately, I learned that in the club, the way to make money is to walk around all night saying “You want a table dance? You want a table dance?” Then, when you get a guy who’s paying, you gotta sit there and listen to him try to mack. I told one guy, “Look, I’m just here to get paid. I don’t wanna hear that shit.”

  As you could imagine, he told me to get the fuck on, which I gladly did. I lasted two weeks before I quit. I was making money, but I was never really built for all that anyway. Still, whether I was meant to be a dancer or not, the fact remained: I still needed to make some money. And I don’t care how good they make it sound on TV; I was not getting a job at Wal-Mart. I decided that if I was gonna have to hustle, I might as well get paid.

  But was I really ready? I thought about Lorenzo. Damn, I missed him. What was more important to remember, though, was why I missed him. I missed him ’cause he was in jail, and I certainly had no desire to do any time. So, if I was going to do this, I had to be smart about it.

  Me, Shay, and Teena sat in my living room and talked about getting into the game, and most importantly, avoiding Lorenzo’s fate.

  “One thing you won’t have is a woman like you,” Shay said. “You were the flashy one. Drivin’ that BMW; spending all that money shoppin’. And Teena, you weren’t too much better. Both of y’all was caught up in that lifestyle.”

  “Don’t hate, Shay,” I said.

  “I’m not hatin’. Come on, Nina. You know me better then that. I’m just being real. Y’all two heifers was caught up in that ballers’ girl lifestyle, spending money like it was water. Now what you got to show for it? Government took everything but the clothes you had on your back.”

  “You’re right, Shay. I don’t have shit. But what’s that got to do with avoiding Lorenzo’s fate?”

  “I’m just sayin’, you should have opened an account in your name,” Shay went on without answering my question. All me and Teena could do was sit there and look at one another ’cause we knew she was right. I had some money, but without any coming in, it was going fast. “If y’all are gonna do this, then you gotta tone it down a whole lot, ladies. Cut out all the flash, and understand that this is a business, not a lifestyle,” Shay continued. “When you start livin’ that lifestyle, you get desperate to make that money.”

  “That’s when you get careless,” I added when I understood Shay’s point. “You gotta have money to fuel that lifestyle, and you start takin’ risks to make that money.” I paused and thought. Was I the cause of Lorenzo being locked up? Did my flashy lifestyle draw the attention of the police? Or maybe it was my shopping addiction that forced him to take greater and greater risks, like doing business with that bitch-ass Bryce. Lorenzo always said that even though he had known him for years, he never trusted Bryce, but he brought in so much money that he had to keep fucking with him. I was glad Bryce was bringing in so much money. “More for me to spend,” I remember saying at the time. Now I wished I hadn’t.

  While I was lost in my thoughts, Shay continued her sermon. “That’s right, so let’s try not to make careless or flashy mistakes,” she said, looking dead at me.

  “That’s what we’re talkin’ about, Shay. Tryin’ to roll and keep from goin’ to jail for it.”

  “But Lo is in jail for murder,” Teena said, “not selling drugs. So as long as we don’t blast nobody”—she pointed her fingers like a gun at Shay�
�“we won’t get locked down for life.” Then she blasted her. “Boom!” And we all laughed.

  “True,” Shay had to agree, “but drugs are the reason the cop was there for him to murder. So, when you break it down a little further, he’s in jail because Bryce and Chris rolled over on him.”

  “True that, true that,” I said, feeling the guilt once again, that Bryce was on my card and it was a weight I had to carry. “So, how do we avoid the same thing happening to us?”

  “You start with people around you that you can trust,” Teena said.

  “Yeah, but Lorenzo trusted Bryce, and I know he loved Chris like a brother,” Shay pointed out.

  “No,” I said. “Lorenzo never trusted Bryce.”

  “Okay, let’s be real. We all know that Bryce was a snake,” Shay commented.

  “Since we being real, Nina, Chris was always real envious of Lorenzo. He was always talkin’ about how he was smarter than Lorenzo, and how it should be him runnin’ the show,” Teena admitted.

  “Why didn’t you say something before now?”

  “I didn’t take it as anything more than pillow talk, something to get his dick hard again. I never thought it would come to this.”

  “The only people I trust is the two of you,” I said quietly.

  “You can trust me, Nina,” Shay said as she sat down next to me.

  We both looked at Teena.

  “What the fuck are you two bitches starin’ at me for? Y’all know you can trust me,” Teena said and sat by my other side. “We’re down together to the bloody end.”

  “Let’s hope it ain’t that deep, Teena,” Shay said, and I had to agree.

  “So, we gonna do this or not?” I asked, smiling.

  “What we just say, Nina?” Teena asked.

  “You won’t be alone, Nina,” Shay said. “We’re down with you. So, what do we do now?”

  “How much money y’all got?” I asked.