Crazy Summer (20 page)

As she headed to her right in the direction of the octagon-shaped bar, a tall dark-skinned guy appeared from a side door that read: Staff Members Only. Summer introduced herself, and the guy introduced himself as Shawn. While they shook hands, Shawn couldn’t help but admire her shapely body and flawless face.

“You’re classy,” he said. “Have you danced before?”

She smiled. “Only in clubs and house parties.” She paused and looked around. Then she said, “But I’m here for a job at the bar.”

“You got too much potential to be behind the bar. I mean, you ranking in the top six, baby, and the top five are pulling anywhere from five hundred to a grand a night.”

The money sounded good, but right now, she wasn’t interested in dancing naked.

“Just the bar,” she responded. Her smile remained, and her tone didn’t change.

Shawn took a deep breath. He was really thinking into the future, figuring if she saw the money from behind the bar, she would want to dance later on in the game. He balled up his fist and cleared his throat into it.

“Excuse me,” he said. “Are you familiar with the bar scene?”

“I’m a quick learner,” she told him. “What would my hours be?”

“I won’t be able to discuss that until you meet the owner.”

“I thought you were the owner.”

“I’m the front man.” He laughed a little. “But, I’ll definitely put in a good word for you.”

“How long you think it’ll take?” She was anxious, but she didn’t show it.

Shawn flipped his wrist and looked at the time on his watch, which read 10:23 a.m. “Can you come back ‘round four?”

*****

Summer went directly to the club after coming from the hospital, arriving ten minutes early. She had to park around the corner because the actual parking lot for the club was already packed. She stepped out the rental and grabbed her purse. Within three minutes, she was going through the front doors again. It seemed as if she’d never left. This time, on the inside of the club all the tables were arranged. The chairs were filled, and music was bumping. Women in thongs and high heels walked the runway, while money was being thrown from three angles. Summer watched all of this, and for a minute, she looked lost. When someone tapped her on the shoulder, she spun around, and the face she saw was such a surprise that she almost lost her breath.

When Jermaine and Jeremy walked across the schoolyard of T.W. Josey, their only intention was to watch the band practice. The drum line was definitely a main attraction. They walked underneath a white aluminum shed that ran from the main part of the school to the vocation area. A gold Navigator was parked further to their right with all its doors open and the music bumping through the parking lot and bouncing off the red brick walls of the school. There was a crowd gathered around the SUV, and while Jermaine was looking in another direction, Jeremy tapped his arm. He saw a couple of guys he knew from Murphy Middle School.

“I’ll be back,” he said.
        

Too focused on a long-legged young lady who was leaning against the hood of a black Maxima, Jermaine nodded without saying a word. She didn’t look his age, so maybe she was a senior. He licked his lips while slowly rubbing his hands together.

I gotta step to her.
Several thoughts raced through his mind. He scanned the area around her, and there was only one other female beside her. No guys. His nerves were finally built. He walked in the direction where she was standing. The closer he got the harder his heart thumped inside his chest. One thing, though, he and his brother had developed swagger straight from the older cats in their hood; he surely didn’t have two left feet. No more than fifteen steps away from the two females, both of them saw him coming and stared in his direction briefly until someone yelled out, “Fight!”

Jermaine turned around and saw his brother swinging lefts and rights. He hurried to his rescue and was there within seconds. He caught the dude his brother was fighting in the base of his skull with his fist. The blow was so hard that the guy’s knees buckled. Before he went down, Jeremy punched him again. Blood leaked from the guy’s nose, and when he fell to the asphalt, they kicked and stumped him numerous times. The crowd had gathered; some cheered, and some females were screaming. From the back of the crowd, a guy pushed his way through with a Glock clutched tightly in his hand.

“He got a gun!” someone yelled.

Both of the twins paused and looked around frantically. A shot rang out, and a bullet pierced Jermaine’s jaw. He stumbled backwards, his eyes wide with fear. Jeremy didn’t hesitate to rush the shooter. Another shot missed Jeremy by inches. His adrenaline was flowing so hard he could only think about the Glock. He grabbed the guy’s hand that was holding the gun. Two shots were let off in the air. Out of fear, he continued to hold on to the shooter’s hand for dear life. They struggled. Another shot went off.

Sirens were ringing in the background. Jeremy got close enough to bite the guy’s bottom lip, and he dropped the Glock. Jermaine picked it up. He was soaked in his own blood and even angrier that he was shot. It didn’t feel bad as it looked, though.

After three seconds of hesitation, he squeezed the trigger with the Glock aimed at the abdomen of the stranger, who gave him a fierce look while clutching his stomach. Jermaine’s eyes shifted to his brother; they exchanged their nervousness. Then he squeezed the trigger again, and the guy fell completely to the asphalt.

“Drop the weapon!” a voice yelled out.

Jermaine had heard those words in the project before on several occasions, and let’s not mention on the television.
Damn!
he thought as he dropped to his knees.

*****

Summer couldn’t believe Red Bone had been a dancer for the last two years at the club and was familiar with everything and everybody on the scene. They talked for nearly an hour, while Red Bone tried to convince Summer that the money was plentiful. They sat next to each other at the bar. Summer drank a Sprite, and Red Bone sipped casually on Gin and juice, an old fashion drink.

She looked at Summer and said, “I heard you went to prison.” 

“Long story. I learned a lot, though. I got a few degrees under my belt.”

“I bet you did,” Red Bone shot back. “You fucked wit’ other women while you was there?”

“I tried it. Wait. Let me rephrase that. I know what it feels like.”

Shawn walked up and interrupted their conversation. Summer scanned him from head to toe and noticed he’d changed clothes. Now dressed in a two-piece linen suit and hard-bottom shoes, his appearance made a statement.

“Red, can you excuse us for a minute?”

Red Bone looked at him briefly. Then she smiled and hugged Summer. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

Summer nodded. “Okay.”

Shawn touched Summer’s elbow. “Follow me,” he told her.

She stood from the bar stool and followed him around the bar until they came to a wooden door that read: Employees Only. Shawn opened the door and entered with Summer on his heels. Inside the office there was a young-looking guy sitting behind a desk tapping keys on the computer. He never looked up, but Summer noticed he wore huge diamonds on each earlobe and a pair of expensive Cartier glasses.

This has to be Stacey, the owner,
she thought.

“I got Summer here,” Shawn announced.

He looked up from the computer screen for a split second at her and then back to the computer. “You’re hired,” he said as he returned to typing.

“When do I start?”

“Now if you want to,” he replied, not up for the small talk.

She looked at Shawn, and they exchanged a bewildered look. “You wanna start now?” he asked her.

“I can,” she said happily.

He nodded and turned toward the door. She followed him again. When they got out of the office, he led her behind the counter where there were several types of alcohol and champagne. The wooden shelves were stacked in order. She met the bartender who was working at the time. He introduced himself as Mesha. She smiled, realizing he was gay. That didn’t bother her at all, though.

After Shawn walked away, Mesha began showing her the tricks of the trade. He pulled her coat on all the females that worked there, the ones who were cool and the ones who were full of shit. Mesha was the same height as Summer. He wore his permed hair in a Bob and had no mustache or a beard. His skin was smooth as a baby’s ass, and his attire was up to par, Versace from head to toe.

Grabbing a bottle of Hennessey XO, he said, “This shit is expensive. It’s the people’s choice.”

Impressed, Summer just listened.

Red Bone’s name was called over the loud speaker. She wanted to see her old friend on stage in front of a crowd.

Mesha looked at Summer. “That bitch ain’t shit. Where you know her from?”

“We went to school together.”

He curled his lips and left it at that.

Red Bone walked to the stage in a black t-shirt, thongs, and a pair of black six-inch heels. The song “All Eyes on Me” by 2Pac was playing as she high stepped like a leopard. She got to the first pole and twirled around it, her jet-black weave moving in rhythm, as well. She slowly slipped out of her thongs and left them where she stood. Two white guys who were sitting near the front tossed bills that ranged from ones to twenties. Red Bone stood directly in front of them and bent over. The men went crazy and continued to throw more money.

Summer smiled. Seeing her old friend up there handling business made her feel extremely wonderful, and she felt she could get used to this scenery.

Almost two hours passed before Summer got her first tip, which was a crisp twenty-dollar bill. Then suddenly, a guy walked through the door in a white t-shirt and jean shorts. He wore a huge platinum chain around his neck, diamonds in his ears, and both of his wrists were blinging out of control. Four other guys were with him, but you could tell he was the breadwinner of the crew. They walked passed the bar without looking in their direction.

Looking at Mesha, Summer asked, “Who is that?” 

Mesha sucked his teeth. “Girl, that’s Kiki, and that nigga’s rich.” He paused, poured a drink, and served a customer. When he turned back toward Summer, he noticed Kiki had stopped at the other end of the bar. He and the other four guys occupied five chairs.

“Come here, bitch!” Kiki yelled.

Summer frowned, begging to herself that he wasn’t talking to her. She looked around and saw Mesha coming her way.

As he passed her, he said. “He always talks to me like that.”

Summer ignored Mesha and walked across the bar to where another customer was waiting.

She smiled and said in a soft, polite voice, “Good afternoon.”

The customer looked Italian or something close to it. His eyes were gray and his jet-black hair was pushed toward the back. He gave Summer a smile and ordered a rum and Coke on the rocks. She fixed his drink. He tipped her a ten-dollar bill and turned his stool toward the stage. She turned back toward Mesha, who was now serving five individual bottles of champagne to the suppose-to-be rich crew. Summer locked eyes with Kiki. His expression on his face was just too serious.