Another great thing: she had her own bedroom at her dad’s house. An even greater thing: it was on the ground floor.
So it had been criminally easy to sneak the keys to her dad’s new beamer.
Monte had mentioned something to her about his mom being out of town for the weekend and that he would be alone. Okay. Maybe she had sort of overheard that information from a third party. Either way, he was alone and she wanted to keep him company.
As soon as the house was quiet, she locked her bedroom door, slipped out the window and stealthily crept to the shining beacon that was her chariot to Monte’s house.
If things went like she planned, she would be in his arms in twenty short minutes.
**
He wasn’t home.
She had knocked at his door for five whole minutes and he hadn’t answered. She had even walked around the house and peered into the garage. His car was, as expected, gone.
Nina sat parked across the street from his house. She chewed her freshly manicured nails, her fear about illegally driving her father’s new BMW driven out by the greater fear of never seeing Monte again.
He was her first. She had given her virginity to him and he was treating her like she was nobody. Her heart hurt, throat tightening and tears welling up despite her best efforts to hold them at bay.
This was crazy. This was crazy and she had to stop.
The sound of a car pulling down the quiet suburban street interrupted her pensive thoughts. Swiping at her face, Nina immediately recognized Monte’s car.
And he wasn’t alone. That was definitely the big weave of a female.
Slouching down in the soft leather seat, she peered over the rim of the car door. Another car passed at just the right moment, its lights shining clearly into the interior of Monte’s car and she was able to make out the girl’s face.
Melodie? Melodie!
Nina’s heart hammered in her chest. Anger built up, flooding her brain with adrenaline. She watched, jealousy and anguish fighting for equal space in her gut as Melodie hopped out of Monte’s car, tossing a nest of auburn weave across a scantily bared shoulder.
Jealousy won.
Jamming the car into gear, Nina tore off with an outraged squeal of rubber.
So that’s what Monte had been doing with his free time. That’s who he had been with. They both had made a fool of her.
She had made a fool of herself.
Ending up in the parking lot of a 24 hour Wal-Mart, Nina parked, steaming mad.
Then she got an idea. A very bad idea.
Getting out of the car, she hoofed it purposefully into Wal-Mart. Nina headed straight for the household cleaner’s aisle and from there, the DIY section.
It was time to get back on top. But first, she needed to clean house…
**
Nina, still seething, was on her way back to Monte’s place, Pretty-in-Pink latex paint and an economy sized bottle of bleach in the passenger seat, when she saw a car pull up fast behind her, bright lights nearly blinding her in the rearview mirror. Squinting, she pulled into the right lane, trying to let the car pass. It pulled over with her. She sped up, trying to shake the vehicle. It kept up effortlessly.
Then the blue and white lights started flashing, a little warning bleep blaring from its sirens. Nina felt sick to her stomach as she pulled into the break down lane.
Her father was going to kill her.
**
Peaches, deep asleep, was startled awake by the ringing of her cell phone. Her clock read 2:37am. Somebody better have a damn good reason for calling.
The glow of her caller ID showed The Ex’s number. Suddenly wide awake, she clicked the ‘on’ button, visions of Sly and Nina crumpled up inside of a wrecked BMW flashing into her head. The Ex had always driven way too fast. So when she answered, she sounded a lot more frantic than she would have.
“Hello! What’s going on?”
“Your daughter’s at the police station.”
“Ni-Ni? What happened? Is she ok?”
She cut the bedside lamp on, heart beating fast, mouth dry.
“Your daughter’s fine. Just stole my car and got caught by the police is all.”
“She stole your car and got picked up by the damn police?” she asked, fully and rudely awake.
“That’s about right. She grabbed my keys and snuck out the bedroom window, I guess,” he said, tone growing frigid.
“What do you mean she grabbed your keys and snuck out the window?” she demanded, angrily.
“Why you got an attitude with me?” he asked, his tone growing frigid.
“Because I’m trying to figure out where the hell you were? How did she sneak out without you hearing a thing?”
“I just moved into my new house, Peaches,” he retorted, coldly. “The girl’s bedrooms are on the opposite side of the house so it’s not exactly easy to hear a door open or close.”
Actually, at the exact moment that Nina had stolen her father’s car, The Ex had been getting a mind numbing hand job beneath the highly skilled fingers of his new companion, Raven. He wouldn’t have heard a Cruise Missile detonate in his living room.
But Peaches would never know that.
“Well, then maybe you should have thought through the design of your home in regards to having a teenaged daughter as opposed to building it with a bachelor in mind,” she said, snippily.
“How was I to know your daughter would slip out a window the minute she got the chance? Makes me wonder what she might be sneaking around doing on your side of town,” he retaliated.
“My daughter acts perfectly in my house!” Peaches hooted, jubilantly. “Now we know you can’t say the same thing.”
There was no response for a beat. Then he said, “That’s beside the point. She took my car without a license and without asking. She won’t tell me what she was doing. I think she needs to go back home. She’s out of control and I can’t deal with her right now.”
“She is home, sweetie.”
“What?”
“She is home. She’s got two places: yours and mine. You handle it.”
“What? Did you hear any of what I just said? She stole my car, Peaches.”
“Did you hear me? Handle it. I’ll see you in two weeks.”
Peaches hung up to The Ex’s spluttering, turned the light out and went back to sleep.
Chapter 22
“You wanna go see some strippers?”
“What?” Polo asked.
He had been counting the money he had taken in that day. Eight hundred fifty three dollars. Not bad. Not his best sales day, but not bad at all.
“Do you wanna go see some strippers?” Peaches repeated, driving one handed as she deftly navigated a sharp left turn.
It was the night of reckoning.
A more responsible adult would’ve been thinking up the punishment they would mete out to their wild teenaged daughter who had stolen her father’s car, gone for a joy ride and gotten arrested.
But not Peaches.
Far from thinking about Nina and her escapades, Peaches had spent the entire day fretting over the evening ahead. She was fraught with nerves. She had cleaned the entire apartment until it gleamed, gone out and binged on picnic sized, Cajun seasoned French fries from Bojangles’ and had eaten an entire emergency box of Dove bars. The resulting queasy tummy was no surprise.
Originally, she had planned to go to That Place, but she figured her best bet was to get the strip club visit out of the way while the girls were still with their father.
After finally firming her resolve, she had grabbed the tightest, most scandalous dress in her closet, slapped on a bone straight, waist-length wig lingering around from her club days and slipped into a pair of stiletto heels.
She would fit right in.
Her initial thought was to have Stick accompany her to Satin Dolls. But she figured she might feel a little uncomfortable with him lusting over other women, so had instead settled on her cousin Polo.
“
Females?”
“Yes,” she replied, patiently.
“You a lesbo now, Peach? I wouldn’t be surprised. Errybody’s doin that freaky shit now.”
“I ain’t no lesbian, Polo. So you can take that right back.”
“You never know. I mean, if you was, I wouldn’t hold it against you or nuthin--,”
“I’m not a lesbian!”
“Fine. Do you cus. Just do you.”
“Whatever! You wanna go or not?” she demanded, exasperated.
“Hell, yeah, Peach. I alllways wanna see some strippers.”
“Be ready in an hour. I’ll pick you up.”
Chapter 23
“God damn, Peach. Ain’t never think I’d see the day! You and me at a strip club? Together? I always knew you had a freaky-deaky side!”
Peaches rolled her eyes, wondering if she had made a mistake inviting Polo.
Besides wearing a gas mask worthy amount of powerful cologne, his incessant jokes about the possibility that his older, responsible cousin was turning to the sexual dark side rankled with her sensibilities. He claimed he knew the people who ran the place, which was the only reason why after his last comment; she hadn’t just tossed him out on the side of the road.
She needed to get the lay of the land and feel out the people working at Satin Doll’s. Since the club was open for business, she wasn’t sure how successful she would be getting anyone to look at the picture of Lenny, but she would try anyway.
So, while Polo was occupied watching asses shaking, she would be snooping around. She wanted the extra protection of having a man around, no matter how small in stature said man might be. She supposed she was using him. But it was Polo. He used everybody else in his constant efforts to make money so she was just returning the favor.
Pulling off Angier Avenue, she drove for several blocks, then turned down a narrow darkened street deep in the Westside of Durham.
She passed abandoned warehouses with faceless windows, and tiny clapboard houses with bald lights and sagging porches, finally ending at an area surrounded by a high, razor wire topped fence.
She came to a stop behind a bright, white, late model Mercedes. Two guys slid out, impossible amounts of bling dangling from their necks. Their clothing and basketball shoes were straight off the pages of a hip-hop magazine.
Each was frisked by a massive security giant who lumbered out of a small, wooden booth with the words ‘security’ spray painted in slashing white letters across the side. The pair laughed and joked with the giant, evidently familiar with the guy. He quickly flashed a light into the interior of their car, giving the inside of the trunk a cursory glance before passing them through. Their taillights disappeared through the gate fronting the parking area and club.
As soon as they were gone, the smile dropped and the stoic, mean mug of a hardened strip club security guard took residence as Peaches pulled up to the human roadblock.
Turning on her brightest, most charming smile, she rolled down her window.
Before she could utter a word, the giant with a nametag incongruously spelling out the name ‘Chandler’ in beautiful, swirling cursive grunted, “Get out please.”
Peaches glanced questioningly over at Polo. He shrugged, stage whispering, “Sorry—don’t know this big nigga. Must be a new hire. They got a high turnover rate over here being that they hire a lotta ex-cons and shit.”
Chandler, unhappy with the delay, thrust his pit bull sized head in through the window, a fierce expression screwing up his already unattractive face.
“Sweetie, get out so’s I can frisk you, or leave. Traffic’s backin’ up and people don’t like to have to wait to get to they ass.” His breath was hot and minty. He glared at Polo. “You stay put ‘til I’m done with this piece. Then I’ll come around there.”
Piece?
He bumped his head on the door frame and his scowl deepened.
She scurried out, not wanting to do anything to aggravate the massive giant any further.
When she shimmied out of the car stilettos first, deep décolletage in full and dazzling view, wig cascading, the cars behind her heartily beeped their horns in appreciation.
Cat calls rained out, showering her with bawdy compliments:
“Damn girl! I got fitty wit’ yo’ name on it!”
“Where the hell you been hidin’ dem jewels?”
“Save a lap dance for me, sweetie!”
“Chandler, make sure you put her in the private room.”
Chandler gave her a frisking more thorough than the last visit to her Ob-Gyn. Removing a metal detector wand from its holster on his belt, he spoke as if they were ordinary friends out for a night on the town.
“You that new girl just got hired? I heard she was fine as hell and you definitely fit the bill.”
“No, I’m not,” she said. He waved the wand for a concentrated amount of time across her breasts. “What could I possibly have hidden in there,” she grumbled.
“You’d be surprised,” he said, snapping the wand back in place and walking around to Polo’s side.
Frisking Polo with the same disconcerting thoroughness he had Peaches, a high-pitched squeal followed by a peevish ‘Damn, man. Watch that fuckin’ wand!’ was hollered by Polo.
“Girl came here once,” Security Giant Number Two said, ignoring Polo and continuing with his cavity search. “Managed to get through all the checks just fine. Turns out, she had a couple razor blades hidden under her titties. Wrapped them in plastic wrap. Got in the club and cut up her girlfriend’s face real good. Place almost got shut down. Owner had a friend of his—a few actually—in city council that made sure he could stay open. Thanks to that crazy bitch, we got two checkpoints and double the security.”
“Wow,” was all Peaches could say.
“Now that’s some serious-assed dedication right there,” Polo said. “Under her titties? Damn!”
“Yup.” Chandler said, wanding complete. “Ya’ll good. And look--,” he said, giving Peaches what could only be described as a professional, almost clinical, once-over. “They still hirin’. Girls up in there be bringin’ home one, two grand a night. Shit, if I was a bitch I’d shake my ass for that kinda money all night long.”
She nodded, pasting on a fake smile and driving through the gate into a jam packed parking lot.
“Peach—Peach, you ain’t never made that kinda money,” Polo hissed, mind greedily calculating all she could make in just a few short days.
“Sure haven’t.”
“Ain’t like you got a job. You could do this ‘til something better comes through. Think about it, all you gotta do is show a little bit more titties and ass than you are right now and in a coupla hours you done made a thousand dollars. Ya’ll women got it made. Shit, I could even manage you if you want,” he suggested, eyes beady.
“No thanks, Polo.”
“I’m just puttin’ it out there cus. Just puttin’ it out there.”
Satin Doll’s, low lying and vulgar with its flashing lights and blacked out windows, sat crouched on the ground, quietly waiting for its prey to walk inside the double doors.
Peaches passed car after late model car outfitted with expensive chrome rims and tinted windows, finally finding a parking space tucked into a scraggly patch of grass next to a white SUV.
Peaches gritted her teeth as her high heeled feet touched the graveled lot. She carefully navigated what seemed like an endless stretch of parking lot in torturous stiletto’s, her dress riding so far up her ass she was sure all her personal’s were hanging out, bouncing around like soft-set jello. She really needed to start The Cabbage Diet and a rigorous workout regime.
“Damn, Peach. I’m excited as hell. Hadn’t been to the strip club in forever. I’m workin’ too fuckin’ hard.”
“Well, just act like you have some fucking sense.”
Some fucking sense? She was starting to sound like Polo. This was the problem with hanging with people who had mouths like gutters. It was catchy.
&n
bsp; “Goddamn. I know how to act in public, cus. Give me some fuckin’ credit. I am, after all, a businessman.”
“Uh-huh.”
The two of them formed the tail end of a long line. A line in which each and every man looked horny. All eyes turned in their direction as they walked up. One guy looked as if he got a hard-on, gazing as he was at her bouncing tits.
Peaches felt her stomach knot up. Her palms started perspiring. She felt an anxiety attack forming. She probably would’ve given in, turned tail and run, if the distinct touch of a warm hand grabbing her ass hadn’t disrupted her flight path.
What the fuck?
“Excuse me?” She whipped around, lasering the guys behind her with furious eyes.
She was staring at a group of boys barely old enough to have testicle hair, let alone fondle her butt. They were all looking innocent.
“What’s goin’ on, Peach.” Polo asked, glaring suspiciously at the guys behind them.
“One of these little suckers grabbed my ass!” she exclaimed, inexplicably sounding like a seventies era disco queen.
“What? One of ya’ll little nigga’s just touch my cousin’s ass,” Polo asked, menacingly.
“Naaah! Nah we didn’t!” the ringleader, a tall light skinned guy with curly hair yelled.
“You yellin’, fool?” Polo asked, swelling up to his full miniscule height.
“Yeah, I’m yelling,” he said, lowering his voice and stepping back. The young men surrounding him looked uncertain, one of them, a slim guy in a hoodie, looked downright frightened.
“Come on, man, chill,” he implored, shifting from foot to foot.
“Everything alright back here?”
Massive Security Giant Number Two shouldered his way through the line, stopping between the young guys and Polo. Unlike Chandler, he wasn’t wearing a name tag.
Polo was about to say something, but Peaches stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. If the slim little guy had looked frightened before, he looked positively petrified now. He was practically quaking staring up at the security guard. She took pity on him.
“Everything’s fine, right guys? No more ass touching games?”
“Yeah, we good. Sorry ‘bout that. Was an accident,” the tall light-skinned guy mumbled. He still looked defiant.