Wives, Fiancées, and Side-Chicks of Hotlanta
Page 9
Upon hearing Sasha’s last comment, the woman nodded and smiled. She then took Sasha by the hand and escorted her over to the couch. More like dragged her, because Sasha was not a willing participant. She was fine watching a dancer flip on the pole, but a lap dance was a little much.
“Whoa, hold up. Wait a minute. I’m sorry, but . . .” Sasha’s words trailed off as she tried her best to keep her feet planted on the floor. She stayed in shape and all, but she was no match for the stallion. The next thing Sasha knew, the woman had sat her on the couch and stood in front of her as she began to remove feathers and shoes and stuff. Everything but her mask.
Every time Sasha tried to get up, the woman seductively pushed her back. Sasha tried to chuckle it off, but now she was getting pissed.
“Excuse me!” Sasha didn’t want to read this broad and go toe-to-toe, but she wasn’t about to get raped in this VIP room. This was not Law and Order SVU: Atlanta Edition. Before Sasha could say another word, the woman removed the mask from her face. There was no longer mystery behind her eyes. Any words Sasha was going to speak were now caught in her throat. But finally one word was able to escape.
“Paris?”
“Duh!” Paris said, then walked over to the intercom and turned the music off. “Child, I told Casey you would be too uptight for this to work out.” She wiped her hand across her forehead, glad to have that itchy mask off of her face.
“Casey,” Sasha said, sitting on the couch shaking her head in disbelief. “That girl set this whole”—she raised her arms and then let them drop—“thing up?”
“It was supposed to be fun. You were supposed to let your hair down, relax and enjoy yourself,” Paris said, flopping down on the couch next to Sasha. “But I’m so glad you didn’t.” She lifted her leg and began removing her stiletto pump. “Child, my dogs are killing me.” Paris began rubbing her feet. Sasha guessed they had to be about size eleven.
Sasha just sat there watching Paris, not quite sure what she should say about all this. This situation was both weird and awkward. But something did pop into her mind. “You said you weren’t a stripper.”
“Huh?” Paris asked, so engaged in rubbing her feet down that she hadn’t quite heard Sasha’s comment.
“At the charity fund-raiser, you told me you weren’t a stripper.” Sasha didn’t like being lied to, so she wanted to get to the bottom of what this woman’s issue was.
“I’m not a stripper. Honey, I’m a dancer,” Paris clarified. “That down there,” she pointed her finger downward, “is art. And on top of that, it’s work. And I get paid whether these cheap-ass niggas who only wanna give a bitch a dollar for doing backflips do so or not. Tips is just extra on top of what the club pays me to perform. Strippers live off of tips and drink money. You feel me?”
Sasha didn’t reply. She gave Paris a slow smile, hoping her expression wouldn’t give her thoughts away. She didn’t feel Paris, not one hundred percent anyway, but if she was going to be running into her everywhere she went, she was going to have to find a way to play along. Maybe dancing in this club was not what Paris ultimately wanted to do for a living, but it was what provided the seeds to plant the dream and get it growing. After all, that’s what Sasha’s job at the law firm was to her: just a stepping stone. Sasha could feel a girl who was working to get ahead.
That last thought alone changed Sasha’s entire perspective on Paris’s situation. “You know what? I do feel you,” Sasha said, surprising herself that her opinion had shifted just that quickly. Rightfully so. Sometimes women had to do what they had to do to get things popping off. Too bad Paris didn’t own her truth, though, because at the end of the day, that girl was a stripper.
“Ladies,” said a voice coming from the door.
Both Paris and Sasha looked to see Casey stumbling through the doorway.
Casey was snapping her fingers, wiggling her body, and had the hugest smile on her face. Once she looked at Paris and Sasha sitting over on the couch like two duds, she instinctively got the boo-boo face. She threw her hands on her hips. “Hey, I came to see how my little surprise private party turned out, but this don’t look like no party. What’s going on?”
“Girl, I told you it was too soon,” Paris said. “You gotta break her type in slowly.” Paris nodded to Sasha.
“Break? Who gives a lap dance in a damn bathroom?” Sasha questioned, snapping her neck back. “And my type would be?”
“The type that takes life so serious . . . all the time,” Paris shot back. “Why? I don’t know, because nobody ever makes it out alive anyway, so just chill. Besides, you are a long way from home. Don’t nobody know you here. It was just going to be a dance. I wasn’t trying to get with you or anything. Hell, I dance for anybody for a dollar. It just so happens that Casey paid a hundred of ’em.” She laughed. “It was a freebie for you,” Paris said to Sasha. “So just turn up.”
There was that “turn up” crap again. First Casey had said it and now Paris. Was that really all the people in Atlanta were about? Turning up? Drinking? Clubbing? Sasha could only handle so much!
“Look, ladies,” Sasha said, pushing herself up from the couch, “I appreciate you two trying to show me a good time in Atlanta. I just wasn’t expecting all this.” Sasha raised her hands. “Or that.” She pointed to Paris, who rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth. “Perhaps I’m not the right one for this little threesome.”
“Did somebody say threesome?”
All eyes were once again at the doorway, but this time it was Eric entering, snapping his fingers and dancing a jig.
“Oh, Lord, you in on it, too?” Sasha asked Eric. Suddenly a weird feeling took over Sasha. Things were starting to feel less and less like a girls’ night out and more and more like the freaks come out at night. “Somebody tell me what’s really going on?” Sasha spat, standing from the couch.
Eric frowned as he looked to Casey. Casey slightly shook her head. Eric cleared his throat and clasped his hands together. “What?” he said to Sasha. “We were just giving you a warm ATL welcome. They don’t do it like this back in Ohio?” he asked, surprised.
“Actually, they don’t,” Sasha confirmed. “But just so that we all have a clear understanding, just what is it that y’all do here in ATL, or were about to do?”
Paris, Casey, and Eric gave each other quick looks, communicating something Sasha couldn’t quite pick up on. Finally, Casey stepped in, taking Sasha by the arm.
“Nothing, we just wanted to have a little fun,” Casey said, as she led Sasha to the door. “Sometimes we can be over the top, if you haven’t noticed.”
“Oh, I’ve noticed,” Sasha confirmed. Even right down to Norman, everyone she seemed to befriend was over the top in some form or fashion. Perhaps she would have to ultimately get with the program, but it wouldn’t be tonight. Too much had happened in too little time and none of it left a good taste in Sasha’s mouth. But she wasn’t going to hold it against them. After all, she couldn’t fault them for wanting to show her a good time, and she had had fun, up to the bathroom ambush. They were all still in the getting to know one another phase. She’d give them time and about two more chances to get it right. But since she didn’t see them being able to right tonight’s wrong, she said, “I hate to call it a night so early—”
“Then don’t,” Casey pleaded. “Come on, you came out for a girls’ night out with me and Paris, so let’s have one. Come on.” Casey put her hands up in the air in surrender. “No more surprises. I promise.”
Paris let out a huff. “Well, while Laverne and Shirley figure it all out, I’m ’bout to go back downstairs and make me some money.” With one shoe in hand and one shoe on her foot, Paris limped over to the door. “I’ll be up to hang with y’all after my set.” She looked back at Sasha. “We good?”
“Oh, absolutely,” Sasha assured her. “You were just doing your job, which apparently involves accosting people while they’re peeing. Now go on and strip . . . I mean dance,” Sasha said, correcting herself.
“My pleasure.” Eric kissed his wife good-bye on the cheek, nodded at Sasha, and then left the room with Paris on his arm.
After watching them take a few steps, Sasha turned to Casey and said, “Boss. Really? Your man owns this place?” That would explain the VIP treatment for sure.
“Something like that,” Casey said. “He has an image to uphold. He’s a role model to the youth, you know. What would it look like him owning a place like this?”
Casey winked, took Sasha by the arm, and escorted her back to the VIP section. Sasha couldn’t get past the fact that Eric owned this sex circus, Paris was one of the performers, and Casey was the ringmaster. Sasha wondered why Casey and Eric had the club when Eric made plenty of money playing basketball. What if someone found out and sold the story? Why risk their reputation? Maybe Sasha should consider finding herself some new friends; she didn’t want to get dragged through the mud with Casey and Eric if anything came out.
Suddenly the words of Sasha’s friend’s warning back home popped into her head. You’ll be running back home to be with all your friends, because I don’t see you making any new ones down there. You’ll never fit in.
Sasha would do anything not to let those words ring true, even if it meant getting caught up in a life that had never been part of her life plan. Sasha enjoyed partying, and she had fun with Casey. Maybe she could take on the friendship in moderation, whether it fit into her business plans or not. Like they say, some of the best things in life are those that are unplanned. . . and unexpected.
Chapter 7
Come Monday morning, there was a chill between Casey and Sasha as they stood in the break room. Even though the room wasn’t any larger than fifty square feet, it was as if they were an acre apart. They could see specs of each other, but nothing was in full view because neither woman would hold her eyes on the other long enough to get a complete visual.
Sasha hadn’t talked to Casey since she’d left the club at around one in the morning. Sasha rode home in the limo alone, Casey opting to stay at the club with her husband and Paris. The last time Sasha had seen Casey, she was so far gone off that liquid courage that she probably had slept until her alarm clock woke her up this morning for work.
“Hey,” Casey said to Sasha while sipping her coffee, avoiding all eye contact with Sasha.
Whether that thing going on between them was mutual awkwardness, Sasha didn’t know. She could only speak for herself, and things felt awkward as hell for her. When she had left the club, she had insisted everything was all good. Casey had mirrored the same sentiments. But Sasha wondered now, since Casey had no alcohol in her system and had let the situation marinate, if she still felt the same way.
“Hey, yourself,” Sasha said, clearly noticing how Casey was avoiding looking at her. Any other day Casey might have given Sasha the once-over, then complimented her on her outfit, but not today. Sasha hated that evidently things had already changed between the two of them.
Sasha had really liked Casey, too. Casey had never done anything to Sasha to make her feel any other way about her. Of course Sasha sensed that some ole freaky-deaky was going on with her and the mister, but that was their private business. Granted, Sasha couldn’t remove the fact that if she’d stayed in that Champagne room five more minutes, they would have made it her business. When Eric had entered the room, the way he was licking his chops and practically salivating had not gone unnoticed by Sasha. If Sasha had to guess, he wanted to show her a good time all right. Either that or he wanted to see her having a good time. Voyeurism was a possibility. But then again, both he and Casey were pretty buzzed. Alcohol is known to be somewhat of an aphrodisiac. But something told Sasha that it didn’t take much gin to get them to engage in some out-of-the-box sexual experiences. After all, look at the club he owned . . . and Casey brought her friends to.
Sasha wasn’t tripping over the whole strip club thing. She’d personally never had a lap dance before and wasn’t into that type of thing, especially from another female. But different strokes for different folks. She was certain there were some things in life she had done that others wouldn’t.
She had tried not to appear as though she was lame and enjoy the night. But that didn’t mean she wanted Paris to give her a lap dance. Sasha wasn’t a square. She’d been out. She’d seen girlfriends get drunk and dance on each other. But Paris wasn’t her girlfriend, no matter how one decided to define it. The fact that Casey had been coming from a good place and that it had all been in fun is what allowed Sasha to brush it off. The two women were just getting to know each other. They’d learn each other’s ways, personalities, and definition of fun soon enough. Even though Casey had taken Sasha way out of her element, she still wanted to form a friendship with her. For one, her friend’s words stayed settled on her mind. For two, she was in a new town where they did things differently than what she was used to. This was normal here. She was normal, right? Being taken out of one’s element didn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing unless Sasha insisted on seeing it that way. In this particular case, Sasha wanted the glass to be half full.
With that thought in mind, Sasha decided to cut the tension in the air and just act like her usual self.
“I’m glad to see you here this morning. The last time I laid eyes on you, you were standing on the table with a drink in each hand shaking it up as if you were the feature act.” Sasha laughed. “You sure do know how to have a good time.” Sasha patted Casey on the shoulder as she walked over and grabbed a mug.
“For real?” Casey said, a smile forming on her lips. “You’re . . . you’re not mad at me?”
Sasha turned to face Casey before she poured herself a cup of coffee. “Mad at what?” Sasha faced the pot and poured herself a cup. “I can honestly say that that was the most exciting ladies’ night out I’ve had in all my life.” And Sasha wasn’t lying about that the least bit.
“Oh, good.” Casey exhaled and visibly relaxed into her usual self. She then walked up behind Sasha and hugged her.
Sasha was a little taken aback. She wasn’t expecting all that. Besides, Sasha wasn’t really the huggy-feely type. She forced a smile on her face then finished preparing her coffee after Casey released her.
“I was so worried,” Casey said. “That’s why I didn’t call you over the weekend. I thought you were gonna cuss me out.” Casey laughed. “But Eric was right. He said you seem like a genuine chick and that if you were pissed, you would have let it be known.”
“Well, your husband is a good judge of character. That’s exactly how I roll. If I have an issue with you, then you are the person I’m going to speak on the issue with and I’ll have no problem telling you about it to your face. So if I say we’re good, then we’re good. And you and I,” Sasha said before taking a sip of her coffee, “are good.” Sasha meant every word.
“I guess I should have listened to my husband. I worried all weekend for nothing,” Casey said. “But that still doesn’t keep me from wanting to go ahead with my little makeup get-together.”
“Makeup get-together? Oh, Lord.” Sasha rolled her eyes. “What in the world is a makeup get-together? Does it involve Mary Kay cosmetics or something?”
Casey laughed as another fellow employee entered the break area. Both Casey and Sasha greeted the coworker, but that was their cue to walk and talk back to their respective desks.
“But anyway,” Casey continued. “Like I said, I thought you were mad at me, so I wanted to make it up to you with a little makeup get-together in your honor. Not makeup as in cosmetics, but makeup as in—”
“I get it, I get it.” Sasha nodded. “But there’s no reason for us to make up. No harm, no foul. I told you we’re—”
“Good.” This time it was Casey who cut Sasha off. “I know, I know. But let me
do this. It will be a more mellow type of experience. Something I think is more up your alley. Just give me the chance to get it right this time. Plus, I want you to see that I’m not always the buck-wild chick you saw the other night. I know how to turn it down and keep it classy.”
Sasha was looking doubtful. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Casey. Casey had presented herself as nothing but classy up until the other night. Even then Sasha didn’t hold that against her. Now if she acted all rah-rah up in the workplace, that would have been a different story. But she’d been out in a nightclub. She was supposed to be able to let her hair down. Sasha just prayed that next time she didn’t pull a Britney Spears and get it all shaved off.
“Come on,” Casey pleaded. “Nothing big. It will be at my house. Just a few of my husband’s and my friends.”
“Hmm, well,” Sasha thought out loud.
“Pretty please, that way I’ll know for sure we’re good.” Casey batted her lashes.
“Why are you standing there looking like you are trying to get your husband to purchase you a Birkin bag or something?” Sasha laughed while Casey held her pleading position, now even clasping her hands in prayer mode.
“Oh, right,” Sasha gave in. “But no lap dances.” She pointed an accusing finger at Casey.
“Scout’s honor.” Casey held up her right hand and saluted.
The two chuckled.
“I’ll text you everything,” Casey assured Sasha.
“Okay, girl,” Sasha said as she started walking in one direction and Casey in another.
“I promise. Just a little happy hour at my house,” Casey threw in for good measure.
Sasha raised her hand to let Casey know she could quit pleading her case. She was accepting the invite. Besides, what could possibly happen in Casey’s living room with just a few of her and her husband’s friends?