Ladies Night

by Christian Keyes

  Amp took one more bite before laying his fork across his plate and wiping his mouth. “Well, Allison, I have to take care of a few things before work tonight, but I think we should do this again sometime.”

  Dime smiled. “I agree.” She took a sip of orange juice. “You need a lift somewhere?”

  “Nah. I’m good. Going to look at some apartments.” Amp reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He placed enough money on the table to cover the bill and the tip, and then stood up. “I’ll see you at work.”

  “Thanks for breakfast,” she said.

  “No problem.”

  Amp walked out of the restaurant wondering if he could make time for a relationship after all. Then he brushed away the thought, telling himself he just didn’t have the time. At this moment, it was imperative for him to stay focused. His new life depended on it.

  Chapter 19

  “I ain’t used to being here this early,” Dr. Feelgood said, strolling through the club and into Madam’s office. “This place looks different during the day.”

  Madam sat behind her desk, sipping on red wine. She gestured with a nod for Dr. Feelgood to take a seat.

  He sat on the other side of the desk. “What’d you need to see me about?”

  She set her wine glass down. “Some young lady keeps coming by here looking for you. Today was the third time. You got a stalker or something that you need to let me know about?” He was one of her best dancers, and if there was some kind of problem, she wanted to nip it in the bud before it affected her business.

  “Not that I know of.”

  Madam stared at him momentarily to see if he wanted to add anything else. When he remained quiet, she opened her desk drawer and pulled out a handful of envelopes, laying them down on the desk in front of Dr. Feelgood.

  She leaned back in her chair and took another sip of wine.

  He sat there staring at the envelopes until she said, “What are you waiting for? Take a look.” Then he leaned forward and started flipping through the pile.

  “I’m pretty sure that she’s the one that’s been leaving these letters addressed to you as well,” Madam said.

  He picked up one of the envelopes with a puzzled expression on his face. “I don’t know who this girl is,” he told Madam. “And I don’t know anything about these letters.”

  “Initially I thought it was just fan mail, so I wasn’t going to bother you about it. But the letters kept coming.” Madam picked up the whole pile and handed it to Dr. Feelgood. “Now they’re your problem.”

  He took the stack of letters, paused for a moment, and then leaned over and dropped them in the trash. He looked to Madam. “Anything else?”

  “No, but you know my policy, Doc. No drama and no nonsense at my club. I won’t have anything up here interfering with my money.” Madam always told her dancers that she expected them to control their wives, girlfriends, fiancées, mistresses, side chicks, or whatever. She wanted her customers to know that they could come out and have a good time without one of the dancers’ baby mamas going upside their head.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said as he stood up and left the office.

  Madam returned to her wine and started flipping through a pile of her own mail. Coming across a certified letter marked URGENT, she opened it and began reading.

  “Wait—there’s gotta be some kind of mistake,” she said aloud as she stopped to reread the line that had taken her by surprise. Without finishing the rest of the letter, she set the document on her desk and picked up her cell phone.

  Scrolling through her contacts, she found the number she was looking for and then pressed Call. “Damn it!” she spat when her call was sent to voice mail. She was irritated and anxious to get to the bottom of things.

  She looked at the certified letter again and dialed the contact number listed at the bottom. After a couple rings, a receptionist picked up.

  “Hi, can I speak to Lisa Howard please?” she said and was quickly placed on hold.

  “I’m the owner of Club Eden,” she started when Lisa Howard came on the line. Madam was trying to maintain her composure amidst her confusion and frustration. “I got a rather disturbing letter from your office today. There must be some kind of error in your records. . . .” Madam relayed the details of the letter.

  As she listened to Lisa Howard’s response, all the blood drained from Madam’s face. She felt rattled and anxious, and began pacing back and forth. Trying to calm her nerves, she sat on the edge of her desk and guzzled a large gulp of wine. With her back to the door, she didn’t see Amp step into the doorway.

  “Well, there has to be a way to fix this,” she said, continuing her call. “Fine. I’m on the way down there now.”

  Madam hung up the phone and stood momentarily, with the wine glass in her hands, trembling. She drained the remaining liquid from the glass and then set it down on the desk, hard. As she poured more wine, she looked up to see Amp standing there and then immediately tried to collect herself. She began to pat her hair nervously, which was unusual because she never had a hair out of place.

  “What do you need, Amp?” she asked him hurriedly. She needed to go take care of business, sooner rather than later.

  “Um, one of the big girls from that birthday group last night tore my thong off of me. I was gonna grab a couple new ones,” Amp told her without making eye contact. He was clearly uncomfortable seeing her this way.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, being uncharacteristically forward.

  Madam nodded her head, struggling to be strong. She even tried to force a slight smile, but it was no use. Amp’s worried expression let her know that she wasn’t fooling anyone. “No, I’m not,” she admitted. “I just got some really bad news and I have to figure out how to fix this.”

  Madam took another gulp of her wine. “I’m going over there,” she said, gathering the certified letter and her purse, and throwing back the last bit of red wine.

  Amp went over and started rummaging through the box of outfits, but his mind was obviously still on his boss’s atypical behavior. “You know, I’m not doing anything this afternoon. With your nerves being bad and that red wine in you, it might be best if I drive you where you’re going.”

  Madam only hesitated for a second before she tossed him the keys. Who knew? She just might need backup.

  Chapter 20

  Amp sat in the car, waiting for Madam to exit the county government building. She’d been in there for nearly an hour by the time he finally saw her coming out. She was stoic, wearing a strong front on her face as she made her way to the car. Amp got out and opened the passenger door for her.

  She settled into her seat, looking straight ahead. There was no eye contact between them, and no “Thank you for waiting.” She was silent. Amp stole a quick glance at her. He saw her eyelids fluttering, and he knew she was fighting off tears. Had she spoken, her voice probably would have cracked.

  Amp wanted to ask what was bothering her, but he wasn’t sure how to go about it. He didn’t want to overstep his boundaries and have her think that he was snooping in her business. If she’d wanted him to know all the details, then she would have told him. So instead, he said nothing. He just started the car.

  Her emotions got the best of her, and Madam turned her face toward the window as a tear ran down her face. Amp had to ask her what was going on at this point. He couldn’t just drive down the street with a crying woman and show no concern at all.

  “Is it something that you can talk about?” Amp shifted the car in drive, leaving his foot on the brake.

  Madam was quiet for a moment, but she looked over to Amp and saw the genuine concern on his face. “There’s . . . a really good chance—” She paused to wipe a tear that rolled down her cheek. “I’m going to end up losing my club.” She shook her head as the dam broke and the tears came harder. She’d tried so hard to maintain her composure and keep her dignity, but Amp recognized that she’d dedicated her life to building her business, so even the possibilit
y of a loss must have been incredibly painful for her.

  “I worked so hard to have something of my own. And now this . . .” she cried.

  Amp knew what it was like to lose everything, so he could relate to her pain. “Is there anything that the rest of us can do to help?” he offered.

  Madam shook her head.

  “Look, I get the ‘I’m strong and I can do it by myself’ thing, I do, but you have a whole team of people that can help—if you just tell us how.”

  She didn’t answer him, so he just sat there for a while as her tears continued to roll. Sometimes a good cry was what a person needed, to just let it all out.

  Amp started thinking about all of the times he’d felt desperate and wished someone had been there for him. He was determined to help Madam now. He tried again to reassure her. “No matter how bad it looks, you don’t strike me as the type of person that’s just gonna give up.”

  She still didn’t answer, so he decided he’d better give her some space. He would try again later to get her to talk. For now, he put the car in drive and pulled out of the parking lot.

  Amp drove himself back to the halfway house with no conversation taking place between him and Madam. After he was sure that she had calmed down enough to drive, he turned her keys over to her.

  “Madam,” he said before getting out of the car, “you know you can call me if you need anything.” He would be there for her. After all, she had given him a chance, and Amp was loyal to those that were there for him.

  When Amp arrived back at Club Eden later that night, it wasn’t opened for the public yet. El Fuego, Babyface, and Casanova were talking by the bar.

  “What’s going on, Amp?” Casanova greeted.

  “Same stuff, different day,” Amp replied, giving him dap.

  “Check it out,” El Fuego said with a slight Latin accent. Whenever he was hollering at the ladies, he always had his accent on level ten. There was just something about the women hearing his deep Latin accent that made them really go into their purses. “These rich chicks hired me to do a private party for them this weekend. They saw your act last week and asked me to bring you along. It’s two stacks, plus tips, for two hours.”

  “Damn.” Amp’s eyes dang near popped out. “They paying you that kind of money, you gon’ have to bang them rich old broads.”

  “I’m gonna make three or four grand in two hours, my friend. I don’t care.” He said it and he meant it. Everyone knew El Fuego was in a bind similar to Amp’s. On top of having to cover his own monthly expenses, he was sending money back home to Mexico to help his family. He had a huge family, and within the Latin culture it’s family first, so El Fuego was not above occasionally putting it on a woman or two at the private parties for some extra money. The rest of the guys never acted like they knew about it. It was his business.

  “I’m good, bro.” Amp shook his head then looked to Casanova. “Cass, you going?”

  “Nope,” he replied without hesitation. “I don’t do private parties.”

  “Why not?” Amp asked.

  “Well . . . I, uh . . .” Casanova stammered. He couldn’t get the words out, so El Fuego answered for him.

  “He’s super religious.”

  “I am not,” Casanova said.

  “You repent, pray, and say ten Hail Marys after each dance.” El Fuego laughed.

  “So what? I’m asking for forgiveness,” Casanova said, straightening the cross pendant on his necklace.

  El Fuego raised his hands in surrender. “I’m not judging you. I just think it’s hilarious that one minute you’re in the locker room quoting scriptures, and the next minute you’re out here with a Zorro outfit on.”

  Amp and Babyface busted out laughing, but Casanova did not look amused.

  “Fellas, listen up,” Madam said as she eagerly entered the bar area, interrupting their conversation. “I need all of you guys in my office now.” She didn’t even wait for a response as she kept walking right on by them, the sound of her heels clicking all the way into her office.

  The guys gave each other questioning looks as they followed behind her.

  “Not you, Babyface,” Madam said as she settled in behind her desk.

  Babyface stopped in his tracks and held his hands up in wonderment. “Am I in trouble?”

  “No,” Madam said. “I need you to take care of something. One of your women is making a scene in my parking lot. She’s out there right now tearing up your car and singing.”

  His face twisted up in confusion. “Singing?” he asked just as everyone heard the sound of shattering glass. Babyface ran outside the club. Everyone else stayed put for a second, but as the noise escalated, Madam decided to forgo her impromptu meeting.

  “Maybe you all should follow him out there, just in case,” she said.

  Out in the parking lot, Babyface yelled, “Valerie! What are you doing?”

  “I bust the windows out your car. . . .” Valerie was sobbing and singing the song by Jasmine Sullivan at the same time. She wore a T-shirt with pajama pants and fluffy house shoes, and her messy hair was sticking to the tears on her face. She didn’t look like a woman who was in her right mind. The bat she was using to bust the headlights on Babyface’s black Dodge Charger completed the picture of a woman gone mad.

  Babyface approached his car, keeping a safe distance from Valerie so that she didn’t knock his lights out as well. Ol’ girl kept singing and swinging.

  “Valerie, stop!” he shouted.

  She stopped momentarily to look at Babyface through her red, puffy eyes. “Why should I?” Valerie sobbed. “You around here messing with other chicks, driving them around in the car I bought you! I pay the note on this car, so I can tear it up if I want to.”

  “Val, please. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I—”

  “Don’t you dare patronize me!” Valerie snapped. “I know what my eyes saw, but just in case, I captured it on my cell phone camera too. You wanna see?”

  This was not a joke. Valerie was really busting up his car, which must have meant she really had hardcore evidence against him.

  Valerie raised the bat to hit the car again, and Babyface stepped closer. He couldn’t just stand back and let her demolish his ride.

  She turned her attention to Babyface and shrieked, “You might as well have just stabbed me in the stomach with a knife. I’ve never felt this kind of hurt, because I’ve never loved any man as I loved you.” Her pain was obviously intense. “How could you throw away two years? How could you do this to me?”

  She started walking slowly toward him with the bat now gripped in both hands. It was positioned behind her head as if she were ready to hit a homerun.

  Amp decided it was time to intervene. He was thinking about the best way to try to get the bat away from her. She had clearly snapped, and Amp knew all too well that this could end badly.

  “Stop!”

  Everyone turned in the direction of the voice to find Madam walking toward them.

  “The police will be here in two minutes,” Madam told Valerie. “So if you don’t want to go to jail tonight, you better get out of here.”

  Madam’s statements must have registered with Valerie, because she slowly lowered the bat. She looked to Babyface, back to Madam, and then headed toward her car, dragging the bat on the ground.

  Pausing in front of Babyface’s car for a moment, she swung the bat one more time. Babyface cringed as the last headlight exploded.

  “We’ll talk about this when I get home tonight. Okay, babe?” he said in a sugary voice.

  Valerie didn’t respond. She simply threw the bat into her car, got in, and drove away, giving Babyface the look of death as she passed him.

  “You’re gonna end up on Snapped if you go home to her tonight,” Madam said, watching the madwoman drive away. “That girl’s gonna kill you.”

  “You’re right,” he acknowledged. “And thanks for saving me.”

  “I had to. She was wasting my time, and I couldn’t s
tart this meeting without you and the guys. Come on.” She waved her hand, signaling for everyone to come back inside.

  This was the first time since Amp started working there that he had been called to a meeting. He wondered if it had anything to do with that trip to the government office earlier.

  Madam sat down at her desk, took a sip of her signature red wine, and then got straight to the point. “The bottom line is I may lose this building.”

  The men were speechless as they stared at Madam, waiting for her to continue. She said nothing else, though. Clearly it had been hard enough for her to admit that much.

  “I thought you owned it.” Dr. Feelgood had a puzzled look on his face.

  “I do,” Madam confirmed. “Apparently my accountant—actually, ex-accountant—hasn’t been paying the property taxes on this building. He kept the money I gave him to do so, and now no one can find him. So, long story short, unless I can come up with that money, the county is going to seize the building and sell it to pay the back taxes.”

  Babyface spoke next. “Exactly how much money are we talking about? And how much time?”

  “I have sixty days to pay them two hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” Madam said.

  “Dayum,” was the general reaction to the amount owed and the short amount of time she had to pay the debt.

  Silence fell over the room for a moment, until Casanova folded his hands together and said, “We need to pray.”

  “Cass, this ain’t the time,” El Fuego said.

  “There is always time for Jesus! Always!” Casanova was adamant.

  Madam calmly took a sip of her wine. “You can pray for us later, Cass. Right now, let’s focus.”

  “Is that even possible?” Amp questioned. “To make that kind of money in sixty days?”

  Madam shook her head. “I don’t know, but we’re going to damn sure try. I have a little bit saved up, so that should help, but we are going to have to pull some money together and fast. Now, this won’t affect the money you make at all. I know y’all need this place as much as I do, so I am going to need everyone’s help.”