Around the Way Girls 9 (4 page)

Slamming then locking the steel security door, the bouncer signaled the club was clear and it was time for money countdown. I'd been dancing my ass off all night plus J.T. had tipped me hella cash so all of my pertinent bills could be paid. People frowned on the lives of dancers, but in one hard day's worth of work, I was about to afford what my living expenses were for the month. Fuck quitting, I was just getting started! Hopefully Mr. Moneybags had all intentions of using my cell number as promised so I could secure future financial strains. The knot in his pocket in addition to the charge cards I saw when he whipped out his leather wallet let me know he was a cash cow.

Frank was already running the money machine as his right-hand man rubber banded each hundred dollar stack. Every girl in here should've been eating steak and lobster from twerking tonight from the looks of it. Even Dolly was peeling back twenties from tips men left on top of their tabs. Looking up, giving me a half-ass nod, I rolled my eyes with the same “bitch, I don't give a fuck attitude,” keeping it moving toward the DJ booth. I hadn't forgotten about Dazz's request, plus I had to make payout to him for the night. I didn't know what the other dancers did to stay right with the men who made the club run like a well-oiled machine, but I kept the bouncers, DJs, and even Frank in my back pocket by making money and tipping well.

“What up, my baby? What's the star dancer of Bare Faxxx about to get into?” Unplugging the mixers and subwoofers, Dazz was moving swiftly through the compacted space, packing up so he could get out of here.

“Not much of nothing. You already know I'm about to head to the crib to get fried.” Pulling out the crisp fifty I was tipping him, he pushed it back toward me before I could drop it into his cup.

“Naw, Butter baby, you straight on that. What you can do is feed ya mans.” Rubbing his stomach, staring at me with a smile, I knew he must've been drunk, high, or both thinking I got down in the kitchen. The only thing I knew how to make was a top-shelf alcoholic beverage. “Let's ride the isle, blow a blunt, and smash some Big Boy before you call it a night. I ain't seen you hit the kitchen all night!”

He must've read my mind about cooking and it was obvious he'd kept an eye on my moves, too. Feeling my stomach grumble right on cue, I figured the after-hours company would be nice. At least I'd have a backup plan already in motion if ol' boy didn't come thorugh. “As a matter of fact, I am starvin' like Marvin. Some bacon, cheesy eggs, and hash browns would set a sista up straight right about now!” Now the one rubbing my stomach, so caught up in the hustle I'd forgotten to get nourishment. I could almost taste the food!

“Sista my ass.” He laughed. “You say shit like that and have the nerve to wonder why Isis and these other girls run around here ready to knock your head off. The only thing sista about you is those cheeks.” Smacking me on the behind, I rolled my eyes hearing the same thing I've heard every day of my life.
I'm too white to be black but I've got too many black features to be just white.

“So whose side are you on? Those tack-headed hoes or mine? I thought we were better than that!”

“I knew there was a softer side to Butter.” He leaned back onto the many speakers. “Don't go getting all soft on me, girl, I was just playing.”

“Emotional my ass! Don't play ya'self out of a free meal, nigga! See you in a few.” Turning to go down the stairs, I threw my two fingers up letting him know we were still cool. I'd gained enough enemies tonight. Wasn't no sense in gaining another. “You know the routine; see you after payout.”

Heading toward the locker room, it was time to throw my Victoria's Secret Pink sweats back on so I could get up out of here. It was well after two in the morning, my stomach was growling, and I was ready to get my late-night impromptu vamp session started with Dazz. He had an overprotective girl at the crib so I knew he wasn't trying to get an all-nighter popping. Regardless though, I was still planning on sliding through the twenty-four-hour Kush spot around my way before going in. My choke sessions never stopped so I had to get right before morning came since I was bone dry out. I didn't save my tails like budget smokers, so I didn't even have the emergency stash to hit up.

Opening the door to the sweaty-smelling locker room, almost every dancer was stripped down but booty naked getting changed for after parties or to go home to their snotty-nosed kids. Those who only made small piles that could fit in their wrist purses throughout the night were already dressed, heading for the door, while the headliners sat posted, counting cash, waiting on Frank. Opening my locker, I pulled out my Gucci purse, scrambling for my phone. If ol' boy texted as promised, I'd be cancelling with Dazz without a second thought. Seeing the envelope icon lit up in my notifications, I quickly entered my pass code, messing up twice out of anxiousness.
Damn, bitch, slow down; you actin' like one of these thirst buckets in here.
Instantly annoyed seeing just a gang of messages from my mother, which were more like begs for me to come by, talk to her, or at least read the prayers she'd sent, I threw the phone back into my purse, picking up the canteen of Avión instead. Fucking with Shawntay kept the rim of any bottle glued to my lips. Tilting it back, feeling the warm liquor slide down my throat, by the time I made it to my bed I'd be too lit to remember the night. Screwing the lid back onto the container, I put it back into my purse then proceeded to slide off my outfit.

Smelling like smoke from head to foot, I needed a shower like a bum needed rehab, but wasn't trying to lurk around Bare Faxxx no longer than necessary. Grabbing a few baby wipes from my duffel bag, I started to wipe my body down, hoping the little bit of fresh scent and disinfectant it had in the small cloth would be enough to mask the sweaty smell. Dazz knew I'd just got done popping on a handstand but that wasn't no reason for me to go out smelling musty or not giving a fuck. I was a lady first, please believe!

“Hey yo, Butter bitch, you swiped some money up out my pile with your mutt dog sneak ass. I'm gonna need them bills back.” Isis walked in with her tits hanging low. “I know you didn't think I forgot!”

Here the fuck we go!
Isis wanted any reason to get at me. She knew like the Lord knew I wasn't a thief. “You better kill yo'self on that note. Butter don't steal, baby. I tend to charity cases like ya'self if nothing else!” Rolling my eyes, I played it off like I was getting some more wipes but I was really wrapping my fingers around the handle of my .380. If this hound dog wanted to bring heat to the table, she was gonna catch a hot one fa'sho. I wasn't taking no risks of getting cuts or scrapes to this pretty, moneymaking face.

“You better run my money, Butter, or it's gonna be a problem. I let you go earlier not to fuck up the flow but, bitch, I'm back on my worst behavior.” Not backing down, she knew I hadn't been close to her pile but her intentions were always to start drama with me. Walking toward me, I tilted my head left then right, cracking my neck, pretty much ready to go to war.

“Bitch, bring it 'cause I'm about sick of your wild beast-looking ass throwing shade at me 'cause you on a drought!” Every conversation around us had ceased; each eye was on me and Isis as we battled it out in the center of the locker room. Deciding it wasn't the right time to pull out my pistol, I knew I could scrap her ass out anyway. I'd gotten in enough fights growing up with jealous females to be skilled at throwing jabs, so this wasn't anything new. Dropping my duffel bag back onto the floor, I discreetly picked up my lock, clutching it in the palm of my hand. If she tested me running up wanting to test the biggest wolf, I'd crack her water-swollen head to the white meat.

“Trust and believe ya pale-faced pussy ass can't hang!” Isis took two steps before lunging in my direction. I wasn't caught off-guard nor did I move two seconds too late. Exposing my right hand, letting Isis know the joke was truly on her, there was nothing she could do being already caught up in trying to throw the first blow. Screams, shrills, and gasps of disbelief were heard throughout the small locker room as my fist of steel (literally) slapped her in the face.

The sound echoed off the walls.

“All you heffas around here better take a lesson from this ass whopping!” Going to town beating Isis to a pulp, blood was dripping down her busted forehead and jaw, both places I'd split open, before mistakenly dropping the lock onto the floor. Boiling with anger I couldn't be contained. Isis had been the right one to fuck with me at the absolute wrong time. All of my pent-up aggression was taken out on her within a blink of everyone's eyes.

“Yo' what in the fuck! Break these broads up!” Hearing Frank screaming over all of the dancers cheering us on, I knew he was hotter than fish grease seeing total mayhem in his establishment. “Butter, Isis, break it up!” He pushed through the crowd of nudeness.

I heard his voice getting louder, but the bodyguards he'd called out to probably hadn't even heard him with the normal routine of getting drunk at the bar with Dolly.

“G'on and tag that bitch a few more times before the guards come!” Not being able to recognize which dancer was serving orders, I tried whipping around with the quickness to catch whatever one was running up. I'd already been caught slipping with sneak attacks to my back.

Turning to catch a glimpse over my shoulder, the same lock I'd split Isis's cranium to the white meat with had knocked me in the ear.

“Ahh, fuck!” I shouted hearing my eardrums ringing loudly then simultaneously feeling my head throb. Dropping the handful of Isis's hair I was holding her still by, I grabbed the other dancer by her long weave, whipping her down onto the floor. Able to overpower her, we wrestled as I fought not to be embarrassed or whitewashed.
These mangy broads keep coming for me. Dumb hoes didn't even know I was cut from the same poor, insignificant cloth as them. Isn't no shame in my game.
Me and the less-than-attractive dancer exchanged a few blows before the guards pulled us off of one another. I was still going so crazy trying to attack both her and Isis that I fucked around and clawed Dazz's face.

“Yo Butter, chill out, my baby, damn!” Now bear-hugging me with one arm, holding me a few inches from the floor, my feet dangled as Dazz tried to keep control of me while touching on his face to check the damage.

Isis had since gotten up, tag-teamed with the scrawny, brazen chick, and was coming my and Dazz's way. “Let me down! I've got something for these puss-face hoes!” With my arms swinging, my legs kicking, and half-oiled body wiggling roughly in his arms, he had to drop me down to hold off the other girls. Jumping over the wooden stool to my locker, I swung my bag up with quickness ready to pull out my sweet baby. Enough was enough!

“I'll spray you bitches dead if y'all make another step!” Dazz stopped all of us dead in our tracks as he stood firm with his piece. “A nigga just trying to eat,” he said more calmly, still waving the Smith & Wesson around. “I don't care where y'all handle part two at, but it ain't gonna be up here in Bare Faxxx.”

Looking around the room to make sure everyone was on the same page in respecting him, I wondered how many of the dancers were itching to go for their pistols too. With CCWs given out like water in the D, everyone who was anyone was carrying. In the law of the land, he who pulled shooting precisely first was the winner.

“Frank, man, I ain't telling you how to run ya' shit, man, but come up off my girl Butter's payout so we can bounce. Butter baby, get dressed so we can be out.”

I didn't flinch. Seeing Isis and the low-paid dancer I couldn't even call out by name griming me, I shook my head knowing their jaded asses. “Damn, Isis, was it worth getting your face split and rocked? Now you're really ugly!”

Isis made a sudden movement like she was about to run up.

Dazz swiftly turned, directly pointing his pistol at her. “Bitch, did I stutter?”

 

“Oh my God! I ain't never felt a pain like this. Please get this baby the fuck up out of me!” Screaming to the high heavens, my coochie was being ripped to shreds as the doctor only could tell me to push, breathe, and stay calm. “Give me meds, knock me out, I can't take this shit anymore!”

“Ms. Jenkins, please take a deep breath then give me the biggest push you can. We must get past this crowning part.” Sounding exasperated with my behavior, I dared this state-paid doctor to hop his cracker-jack ass up on this table to push another human being out.

Doing as I was told, I couldn't wait to light a joint up but especially sip on the fifth of alcohol I snuck into the hospital. I'd never stopped drinking this entire pregnancy, especially with Jimmy having his lawyer contact me demanding a paternity test before any further contact. I'd called his phone over and over 'til his number was changed, leaving me no further way to contact him. The only thing I had to fall back on was getting my food stamps and cash assistance increased from the government, plus the pitiful eye when I applied for emergency assistance when my lights and gas were set to be cut off. Thankfully I was able to keep up with my subsidized thirty-eight-dollar rent.

“You're doing great, Ms. Jenkins. Keep that up because we're almost there.”

Pushing with all my force, I knew my vagina would never quite work the streets the same. The epidural they'd given me must've been a placebo. “This shit hurts! Ahh!” Yelling, totally spazzing out, I swore to God I'd never go through this so-called miracle of child birth again. Balling my face up, pushing with every bit of strength that was left, I felt the baby start to slide farther out, which made the pain slightly subside.

“You've got it! Now the next time a contraction comes, push harder than before okay?”

Nodding my head, I wiped beads of sweat from my face then fought hard to catch my breath. My contractions were coming left and right with no break, so I knew within seconds I would be back into the zone. “Okay, Doc,” I managed to whisper, gripping the bedrail, feeling the contraction about to hit strong. “Fuuuuuckkkk!” Thirty seconds later the pressure in my abdomen subsided, sending a stream of relief through my body. My life had changed.

“Congratulations, Ms. Jenkins, it's a girl!”

 

 

“Da, Da, Da, Da!”

“Daddy, yup, that's right, my boy!” Hearing my ten-month-old son coo, smile, giggle, and try to babble his first words, I continued to roll around on the floor, tossing him into the air. He was a spitting image of my wife with dark brown hair and big hazel eyes. Even the way his lips curled at the sides mimicked Beth's. I didn't know if she seriously prayed for J.T. not to resemble me but one thing was for sure: the Schultz once-dominant genes of blond hair and blue eyes didn't get passed down to my offspring. Locked in the nursery, I was trying hard to enjoy the subtle calm before the storm. Through the wooden door, all the way down a flight of stairs, I could hear my wife having a phone conversation with my mother.
Well I see my day is getting ready to be ruined. I should sneak out for a fake business meeting to my new little call girl's spot.
It would sure beat the verbal tag-team attack I was up for.

Ever since the drunken night of me mistakenly spilling the beans about Shawntay's pregnancy, Beth was like a madwoman trying to secure her position while controlling my desires. With Sally helping her lead the coalition of angry white wives, I was in a double hell with the two most important women in my life hating me. Since Beth made it brutally clear Shawntay had to be cut off, I didn't go against her wishes knowing black pussy could be replaced. She'd even found a more-than-wealthy investor to take the company we branded to astronomical heights. But even for that business relationship something had to be sacrificed. My entire life could crumble if Beth exposed our family secret so I took her threats to heart. After getting my mother Sally involved, not only did I hear a verbal thrashing about being just like my dead father, God rest his soul, but how she would now be the dictator with my matters concerning Shawntay. My mother's hand wasn't gentle like a saint so I knew turmoil would soon come.

Hearing Beth tap on the other side of the door, I didn't want to answer because I knew drama lingered on the other side. The triple mixture of her hormones, postpartum depression, and the fact that I had a baby during our marriage had her coming at me with fury each time we interacted.

“Answer this door, James. I know you hear me.” She knocked harder. “Your mother is on the phone. It's important.”

“All right, all right!” Putting my son into his crib, I hesitated but slowly walked to the door, swinging it open for Beth to come in.

“Speaking of the devil.” I took the phone from Beth's hand as she rolled her eyes, walking off.
What's her beef now?
“I was just thinking of you, Mother.” Continuing to watch Beth move through the nursery gathering what seemed to be for J.T.'s bath time, I sat down in his rocking chair rubbing my piercing temples. She and I didn't have the best relationship because I reminded her so much of my father. No matter how much I tried, I couldn't please her, so I'd given up many years ago.

“You should've been busy thinking about how to clean up the mess you've created with this ratchet-looking disgrace of a woman you risked everything for,” Sally spat out. “I've had more than enough of my share of turmoil to clean up in dealing with your penis-slinging father, God rest his soul.” My mother walked a fine line when it came to loving and hating my father. Even though she chose to deal with the burdens he passed down just like my grandmother, he was the responsible one for turning her heart ice cold.

“Then why don't you try swinging by to spend some time with your grandson? It'll be a change from the dreadful life the men in your world have created for you.” Taking J.T. from Beth's arms as she struggled to carry him plus the towel, sleeper, diaper, ointment, lotion, and so forth, I tried not letting my mother's bad mood rub off on me. I'd earned plus lived up to the title of being the ill-rotten child who thirsted for dirty fruit. My marriage was barely holding on by thin threads. J.T. had been a lifeline so in my mind he could definitely bring some light to my mother's world too.

“Get your head out of the clouds, Jimmy. Are you sleeping with so many whores you can't keep track of time? This is the ninth month; the bastard has been born. Leave to meet me at Henry Ford Hospital; I'll be in the main lobby.”

Damn near dropping J.T., being completely overwhelmed by the news, my heart skipped a few beats as my chest seemed to cave in. It was D-Day; time for me to dance to the music I once loved stroking. Without getting swabbed, I was already 99.9 percent sure Shawntay's daughter was going to be mine.

 

 

A bitch was surely out of it, believe that.
As God is my witness, I'll never push another baby up out of this once-tight coochie.
Scared to even clinch my pussy walls to see if there was even a chance of bringing them back to life, I lay still in the hospital bed wishing I'd gotten the abortion like Jimmy requested. But at the time, all I could see was dollar signs and how my pockets could get filled with his. Every man paid child support in America so having Shannon was my guaranteed piece of the pie. Trying hard to feel motherly and bond with my only daughter, I kept failing miserably, not even able to look into her green eyes. How some mothers adored their offspring, not being able to send them away to the nursery, I was pissed than a bitch they were making her stay in this room with me. Shannon was six pounds, six ounces, and twenty-one inches long. Even though she was just a few hours old, nothing about her resembled me. Having Jimmy's milky white skin, small button nose, and light-colored eyes, this little girl was a spitting image of her father. I might've been his most consistent whore but now I was his most recent baby momma. My mother, may she rest in peace, might've been the Queen of Hoeing but she would've never tied herself to the white man for life. If she was still living, even at sixty in age, it would've been nothing for her to butcher knife her grandchild from my womb without thinking twice.

“How are you feeling, Miss Jenkins?” The nurse knocked on then pushed the door open. “I hate to bother you but I've gotta take your vitals and make sure everything is still on the up and up.” Being overly friendly, I knew that if I'd seen this working professional on the street she would look down on me. Me and her were cut from different cloths. Hell, for all I knew, she could be best friends with the woman whose husband's baby I was having. It's a small world and Detroit is even tinier.

“I'm still feeling quite a bit of pain in my back but the pressure in my abdomen has gone away. Can you give me another drip?” Keeping my eyes closed, I was making the situation be a tad bit worse since I was in the perfect place to get fed drugs. Everybody around the way knew Henry Ford Hospital served top-notch druggies to the supposed ailing around metro Detroit. So I was in the right place to get the best high. Fuck nursing li'l Shannon; she could sip on some Similac. Knowing I wasn't the type of woman always on time, I didn't dare set myself up for being on call to pop a titty out every time this kid got hungry. Naw, I wasn't banking on that!
Jimmy's child support better buy her a personal feeder.

“Wow, your tolerance for pain is extremely low. On a scale from one to ten, where does yours fall?” Sounding like she didn't believe me, I didn't blame her nor did I care. Right about now all I wanted was more meds.

“I'm about at an eight.”

“Okay, I'll report that to your doctor. I've given you the maximum amount of morphine already so he'll have to order the next drip. Besides, you might want to start fighting off the pain naturally so you can get to that beautiful baby of yours.”

“She ain't that damn beautiful.” I turned my nose up to the alleged bundle of joy who was responsible for the many struggling months I'd just lived through.

The nurse returned the same look of disgust I'd just dished to my daughter as she continued to check my vitals. “You can't mean that, Ms. Jenkins. Truly you mustn't. I'll send the social worker in here to have a talk with you. That's just the postpartum depression talking. I can't tell you how many young mothers I see get struck with it.” The nurse was trying to make a positive spin out of something that sounded so horrible. I actually wondered how many mothers had let the words fall from their lips but actually meant it.

“Naw, I'm good on you having the social worker come by. Just like you said, it must be a young mother thang.” Lying through my teeth, I instantly started backpeddling, not wanting anyone with authority to come in meddling with me.
Let that paper-pushing bitch stay wherever she's at. I don't need my stamps or cash tampered with.

“Are you sure, Ms. Jenkins? I've seen Ms. Basheer help a lot of women get through the first few days; plus if you need a car seat, stroller, crib, some clothes, any of the essentials, she'll take care of that.”

My eyes widened. “On second thought, send her by; there's a few things I need for baby Shannon before going home.” No longer trying to keep the state-appointed hospital human service worker away, I decided to embrace her by running off a long list of things I needed for my newborn. I really didn't give two shits about caring for this kid but with Ms. Basheer's help, I wouldn't have to come out of my pocket for anything. Out of these whole nine months, I hadn't purchased not even a pack of diapers for the baby I was only twenty-four hours away from taking home.

“Not a problem. Once your visitors leave, I'll send Ms. Basheer up. And don't worry, those feelings of depression, uncertainty, and anxiety will soon start to fade. You truly have a beautiful daughter.”

“Whoa, slow up! Who in the fuck is here to see me?” Caught off-guard, forgetting that I was supposed to be in a tremendous amount of pain, I shot up like a mentally disabled junkie on the first of the month.

I hadn't seen James face to face in months. I'd spent many hours and days stalking him, his wife Beth, and the little boy they had a few weeks after he cut me completely off. From the way he'd been acting, refusing my calls before finally changing his number altogether, it made it hard for me to believe our dynamic would change that much. Having this baby might've been playing myself.

“I can't believe you went through with this.” Jimmy came in, shaking his head. “You've created so much drama by trying to force this bullshit on me and my family.” Through gritted teeth, Jimmy was talking in a low tone, almost to a whisper. “I wish you would've taken the money.”

“Fuck you, Jimmy. You should've been putting pocket condoms on that little dick of yours if you ain't want no more babies!” Ready to go to war, if he thought I was going to let him show up in my hospital room to talk shit after nine months of a hiatus, he was dead wrong!

“Your trifling ass should've never said you were on the pill. That's what I get for trusting a dirty black ho!” Jimmy's words were slicing me like a knife. It was obvious he didn't compassionately care about me but after all of the sexual hours I'd put in on his ass, you would've thought we were at least better than that.

“You, your wife, and that big bubble-headed son of yours can go to hell!” Screaming with nothing but rage and spite, I let the cat out of the bag that I'd been discretely watching his life. “You were all in love with this sweet black pussy a few months ago. Hence Shannon!” Screaming with tears falling from my eyes uncontrollably, I wasn't in the right mind frame for taking nor dishing out verbal abuse. The nurse had been right; my feelings were all over the place.