Caught Up

by Shannon Holmes

“Damn, Kendra, you make it sound so simple,” Dixyn replied between tokes on her blunt.

  “Because it is. This shit ain’t rocket science. You don’t need a degree in physics or even a GED. Bum bitches do it, old bitches do it, and ugly bitches do it. But only bad bitches like me and you get top dollar. Them other hos have to fight for the scraps.”

  For an hour, Kendra went on to break down the ins and outs of the strip game, making it sound easy, while Dixyn expressed her concerns and reservations. When enough drugs were consumed by both women, they had convinced each other that what Kendra was saying was the truth. Dixyn was completely sold on the idea of making fast cash. The notion of finding some financial stability seemed to have won her over.

  Persuaded that Dixyn was actually down to strip, Kendra took her to a local sex shop and bought her a few outfits for the club. She told Dixyn that she would speak to the club owner, Notti, to make sure that everything was a go.

  As they drove back home, the duo made small talk before Kendra issued a stern warning.

  “Yo, Dixyn, lemme warn you about one thing. Don’t fuck with none of them bitches at the club. They ain’t your friend. I am, and them bitches is no good. Again, I strongly advise you not to fuck with them. And most of all, don’t tell those bitches ya business. If you tell them bitches ya business, you won’t have no business. Feel me?”

  “I feel you,” Dixyn replied faintly.

  Kendra didn’t elaborate, nor did Dixyn question her about this. One thing was for sure—even if Dixyn wasn’t feeling this situation, she was in it now.

  Chapter Three

  The locker room door opened and the stream of music seemed to follow Dixyn as she crossed the entrance that separated the patrons from strippers. The sour scent of body odor mixed with cheap perfume caught her attention. She wrinkled up her nose, cautiously inspecting each locker number, looking for the one assigned to her. Dixyn felt alone, and for good reason. Her strip club tour guide, Kendra, was once again missing in action. Visions of a paranoid Kendra in some seedy hotel, coked out of her skull, ran through her mind. Dixyn shook off the thought, infuriated by her friend’s absence.

  Finally she found her locker, which was in the middle of the room, between the bathroom and the exit. It was a heavily trafficked area. Dixyn stood in front of her locker fully clothed, just as stuck as she imagined Kendra was, while a dozen or so scantily clad and naked bodies orbited around her. Although Kendra had given her a pep talk the night before, it was obvious that this didn’t help her now. Suddenly Dixyn was having second thoughts about this entire situation. Her conscience was consumed by a series of flashbacks of the scenes which had brought her to this moment in the first place. Pull it together, she told herself. Do it for your daughter.

  “Yo, Dixyn!” a familiar voice called out. “What’s Gucci?”

  Dixyn let out a huge sigh of relief. She spotted Kendra strutting her way through the locker room, coming toward her. This was enough for Dixyn to quickly regain her bravery and focus. Kendra’s presence went a long way toward calming her nerves.

  “Damn, Kendra, where the fuck have you been? I only called you all night.”

  “There you go with that shit again,” Kendra responded. “I been busy. I’m here now, that’s all that matters.”

  “My bad, Kendra. I thought you’d keep your word this time and actually come somewhere with me.”

  “Bitch, you killin’ me. Stop actin’ like a big baby ’bout shit. It’s not that serious. I’m not always there when you call, but I’m always on time. You heard that song before? Enough of the chitchat, we gotta get dressed. It’s almost time for you to go on.”

  “Go on?” Dixyn repeated weakly.

  “Yeah, you know, strip!” Kendra fired back. “That is what you’re here for and what you will be paid to do.”

  Kendra began to strip out of her street clothes with Dixyn following suit right beside her. They stuffed their personal belongings inside their respective lockers, leaving nothing but the outfits they planned on wearing and small designer clutch purses lying on the bench beside them.

  Kendra donned bright gold, metallic, nine-inch heels with a matching G-string that seemed to disappear between her ass cheeks. She chose to remain topless, exposing her firm, ripe titties to anyone who looked her way. Dixyn was still getting dressed while Kendra stood anxiously waiting on her.

  “You’re after Fonda, girl. You ready?”

  Dixyn untied the string from the bikini top around her neck, going topless like Kendra. She shrugged. “I guess so.”

  “Well, what is it going to take for you to be sure? You need a drink? You want me to get an E, a molly, or what?”

  Kendra removed her MAC lipstick from her purse and applied a coat to her full lips. She pressed them together and smiled. “I know, do a line with me, then you’ll be ready.”

  “You know I don’t get down like that, Kendra.” Dixyn walked over to the bathroom with Kendra close behind and looked into the mirror, adjusting her long false eyelashes. “Just break the money down to me again.”

  Kendra stood behind her and gently massaged her shoulders with her sweaty hands. She stared at her reflection as she spoke. “Notti charges all the boys at the door—that’s the ‘house.’ We each get a part of that off the top. What we make on the floor is ours to keep. The harder you work, the more customers you get, the more money you get. You feel me, Dix?”

  “Yeah.”

  “VIP is two fifty guaranteed, but it’s up to you to go that route. Niggas are gonna press you, but you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Remember that.”

  Dixyn had to admit that Kendra talked a good game. She told Dixyn she was perfect for the job. She promised all she had to do was look cute, shake her ass a little, and she would make more in one night than she would in a week working the average nine-to-five.

  “Here comes Fonda,” Kendra said abruptly. “That’s the chick I told you about.”

  Fonda walked into the bathroom talking loudly. “I need a fuckin’ drink! Those niggas are animals!”

  Dixyn stared at the young woman’s slender naked body while she checked herself out in the mirror. To Dixyn, she was entirely too pretty to be dancing for dollars. She looked like she should be in someone’s hip-hop magazine. She was tall with beautiful long hair and perfect skin—though Fonda was far from the woman she appeared. She was right where she wanted to be, doing what she wanted to do. Fonda’s money was long, and she surely put in the work for it.

  “I have two VIPs lined up already. Rent is due, bitches!” Fonda tapped Dixyn on the shoulder and she jumped. “Yo, you Dixyn?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Fonda said politely. “Now that the formalities are out of the way, you need a stage name. You look like a Destiny. Now, Notti said to hurry your ass up. You’re supposed to walk out as soon as I’m done.”

  “You sure you don’t want any of this?” Kendra asked, holding out a few odd-looking pills in the palm of her hand.

  “No, I’m good,” Dixyn answered, standing up and adjusting the tiny thong.

  Kendra slapped her hard on the ass. She and Fonda giggled. “Shake what your mama gave you, bitch.”

  What Dixyn’s mother had given her was good sense and morals, but all of that had gone out the window when she started fucking around with Bryce Winters. Bryce Winters was well known because he moved units—major units. Before Bryce Winters, Dixyn Greene didn’t even know what a “unit” was. It felt like Kendra was finishing the job that Bryce had started, corrupting her further.

  As Dixyn began to make her way toward the door, she turned, expecting Kendra to be right there behind her. Instead, her friend had moved to the bathroom, drinking and drugging with Fonda.

  “Go ahead, I’ll be right there,” Kendra promised.

  Dixyn didn’t even bother to reply. It was all or nothing now. Kendra had led the horse to water; all she had to do was drink. This was a surreal moment. Dixyn couldn’t believe she was act
ually about to remove her clothes for money. She took one deep breath and opened the door, entering the club.

  “Don’t stop, pop that, don’t stop . . .” Rapper French Montana’s hit record was blaring through the sound system as Dixyn walked obediently to the stage. Her presence immediately caught the eyes of many patrons. Their lustful stares inspected every part of her body. The looks were so long and so hard that Dixyn felt violated. Quickly she made her way through the crowd toward the stage. She found the area crowded with another large group of men. Dixyn navigated her way through them, but not without having her private parts groped by numerous customers.

  The makeshift stage was elevated only a few feet off the floor with two poles that extended from floor to ceiling. Dixyn was literally within arm’s reach of any horny man who wanted to touch her. She began to feel more nervous, and not just because of the rowdy men. It was the presence of the poles that truly rattled her. Kendra had neglected to mention them.

  Dixyn surveyed her surroundings and didn’t see anyone she recognized, so she took another deep breath, smiled, and walked to center stage. Dancing was the easy part; it was the possibility of getting recognized by someone she knew that scared her to death. While the bass pumped through Dixyn’s body, she remembered what Kendra had told her. Just pretend you’re alone in your bedroom dancing for Bryce or twerkin’ on his dick. You know how to ride dick, right?

  Dixyn bypassed the pole and decided to do exactly what Kendra suggested. She pretended she was in front of Bryce. She played with her titties just like he did. She dropped to the floor and loosened the string on the sides of her thong. She let it fall to the floor and grinded hard, just like she did when she rode Bryce. Dixyn turned around and caught a glimpse of a few full erections. The cheers and catcalls alerted her that it was time to show the goods.

  Stripping was an out-of-body experience for Dixyn. She wound her hips to the ground, lay on her back, and opened her long legs wide. She licked her fingers and touched her spot, exactly the way Bryce did it. The crowd, which was already sexually charged and ready to fuck, went wild. They showered Dixyn with bills of all denominations, making it rain in the club. The sight of the money made her go at it even harder. She licked her lips and twerked around all angles of the stage. She rose to her feet and made her way to one of the poles, gyrated against it slowly, and shook her ass like a professional. Hands and hard dicks were everywhere, grabbing for her ass and trying to touch her pussy, although Kendra had promised there would be little to no physical contact. But with a bunch of hood niggas wanting to fuck something and only one chick on stage, it was hard to control. Finally, the bouncers descended on the stage in an attempt to keep the order. The crowd was forcibly kept at bay. Dixyn was free to concentrate back on what remained of her stage show instead of fretting over her own safety.

  All the bills that cluttered the stage floor brought a smile to her face. Dixyn needed every penny of this money, and now it was hers for the taking. As the music faded, signaling the end of her set, Dixyn got on all fours and began stuffing the money—her money—in her clutch bag. What money she couldn’t carry in her bag, Dixyn balled up in her hand, clinging to it for dear life, while she carefully walked off the stage. Now the only thing that really worried her was falling in the heels Kendra bought her the night before. As Dixyn made her way back toward the locker room, she was sexually propositioned more times than she could remember. She just smiled and kept it moving. All she wanted to do was get back to the locker room so she could count up her stash. As soon as Dixyn opened the door, Kendra met her and slapped her on her ass.

  “See, bitch, I told you it was easy. You looked like you knew what the fuck you were doing out there. Made me proud, bitch.”

  “I was scared as fuck,” Dixyn said. “Where were you?”

  Kendra ignored her question. “You did good though. Now let’s see how you handle ya’self in the VIP.”

  “Aw, hell no, Kendra, I’m not doing no VIP. I already told you that shit ain’t for me. I got all the dough I need right here. This is enough.”

  “There’s no such thing as enough,” Kendra countered. “Think big, you’ll get big.”

  Dixyn began to straighten out her bills. Kendra quickly exited the locker room, leaving Dixyn to silently count up a little over three hundred dollars. Then suddenly Kendra reappeared, interrupting her.

  “I have a business proposition for you, Dix.”

  “I’m not doing VIP, Kendra,” she repeated. “You need to go find someone else for that.”

  “It’s better than that. All this dude wants is time. He just wanna kick it wit’ you. Just you and him. This is legit. Straight up. No funny business.”

  “I’m not for sale, Kendra,” Dixyn declared.

  “He just wants to spend time, Dix. He’s willing to pay for it. You should at least go see what he wants before you shut him down.”

  “Who is this guy who’s willing to pay for ‘time’?”

  Kendra guaranteed, “He’s legit.”

  “Send someone else,” Dixyn insisted.

  “He wants you,” Kendra fired back.

  “Let him want someone else.”

  “Dixyn, ain’t you the same bitch that the bank is foreclosing on her town house? And ain’t you the same bitch who didn’t have lights on in the crib up until a few days ago? And ain’t you—”

  “I see your point, Kendra!” Dixyn yelled out.

  “Good! I had to remind you ’cause I thought you forgot. Now lemme go line this nigga up for you.”

  “Is this dude really willing to pay for time? Don’t bullshit me! Don’t have me go up there thinking it’s one thing and he’s expecting something totally different.”

  Kendra leaned down and whispered in Dixyn’s ear, “You’re in no position to turn down any money.”

  “Okay, I’ll meet the nigga. Just give me a few minutes to clear my head.”

  * * *

  When Dixyn reemerged from the locker room, she could have sworn she was in the wrong club. There was gratuitous sex happening all around her, everywhere she looked. It resembled a wild orgy. What Dixyn didn’t know was that she had stepped in the midst of a locked-door sexual smorgasbord for strippers that the club owner Notti threw monthly. Not every dancer in the club participated, but the real moneymakers did. They chose to stay and sell their services under the guise of VIP and lap dances. Compensation came in many ways—drugs, cash, or both. If a dancer was really on her job, she could walk out of one of Notti’s locked-door events with a few stacks easy.

  Dixyn maneuvered through the club, utterly astounded by what she was witnessing. She hoped that patrons who weren’t having sex were too preoccupied with getting drunk or getting high to notice her. She was grateful that she had slipped into street clothes. As soon as the secret rendezvous with the unknown client was over, she promised herself she was leaving.

  Dixyn moved swiftly through the mobs of men who started reaching for her arms and smacking her on the ass. She spotted Kendra without even trying. Pausing momentarily, Dixyn witnessed her friend sitting in the corner next to some dude with her head buried in his lap, bobbing up and down. Dixyn moved on carefully, trying not to draw any attention. As she made her way to the stairs that led to the VIP area, she literally ran into Fonda.

  “Dix!” Fonda shouted.

  Dixyn smiled as they passed on the steps.

  “Go get that money, girl. That nigga is waitin’ for you in room two,” Fonda told her.

  Heading up the steps, Dixyn’s mind began to race. Who was this dude who wanted to buy some time with her? The closer she got to the top of the stairs, the faster her heart began to beat. Dixyn reached the upper level, unsure of which way to go. She followed a trail of doors to her left and counted down the numbers until she reached room two.

  Dixyn knocked softly on the door, hoping no one would respond.

  “Come in,” a deep voice said.

  Dixyn turned the doorknob and cautiously entered the dimly lit room. Th
e first object that caught her eye was a stack of money that lay neatly on the table alongside of a bottle of champagne placed in a bucket of ice.

  “Don’t be afraid. Ain’t nobody in this room gonna hurt you.”

  There was something about the dude’s voice that was reassuring. He didn’t sound like a rapist or a pervert to Dixyn. She pushed the door open all the way, revealing a dark-skinned black male fashionably dressed in a blue denim True Religion outfit with matching blue and black Nike Foamposite sneakers. He had an oversized snap-back New York Yankees hat pulled over his eyes.

  “Sure took you long enough, Dix,” he chided.

  She stood silently in the doorway, unsure of what to say.

  “Dixyn Greene!” he spat. “Stop playin’ wit’ me! Come in and close the door.”

  Now the stranger had her undivided attention. She entered the room for no other reason than to ascertain how this dude knew her government name. She closed the door slowly behind her and stood near it in case she needed to make a quick escape.

  “To what do I owe this pleasure?” Dixyn asked with sarcasm.

  “Oh, you got jokes, huh, ma?” the man replied. “The pleasure is all mine, Dixyn. Since you’re being funny, what is a nice girl like you doin’ in a place like this?”

  “None of your business!” she countered. “I’m not here to talk about my personal life. Or me, for that matter. Those things won’t be topics of discussions. So, like I said before, it’s none of your business.”

  “I beg to differ, sweetheart. It is my business. You probably don’t know me, but you know of me . . .”

  Dixyn desperately tried to study the man’s physical features, yet she couldn’t quite see below the baseball cap.

  “You probably know a certain member of my family better than me,” he confessed. “Like my brother Bryce. Small world, right?”

  Dixyn’s eyes widened and she clasped her hand over her mouth. “Brian?” she whispered lowly.

  The man raised his chin so that his eyes were no longer shrouded. His gaze met Dixyn’s head on and he removed the baseball cap. Dixyn had to admit the physical resemblance with Bryce was striking.