Chapter 20
When Caesar handed me the keys to my own room in The Loft, it felt like getting the keys to the city. No one that works in his crew got keys to the rooms, except me, Ace, Caesar and Cam. In a way, we were the pillars that kept this organization structured. Well, I was more of a pillar to my own success since my business ran parallel to Caesar's. He made it clear that I wasn't one of his soldiers so in an effort to show me that, he gave me keys to my own room. That way, I can handle business with Max and Phor without having to go around his men.
Anybody that wanted safe passage into one of the apartments in The Loft had to get through the body guards posted outside the door. So, it was only right that I have my own doorman watching out for me.
Usually, the bodyguards were handpicked by Ace. But the young nigga crouched outside my door right now was chosen by the one and only. Caesar let me have my pick at the young soldiers who didn't exactly qualify to be a coke runner, or a hitman just yet. They were allowed access to the building as a stepping stone to those levels. Apparently, Ace used to ride around the city watching his corner boys to see who was ready to get into more action. So far, I only knew Rico, Mad Max, and my new bodyguard, Fredo, qualified.
I ride the elevator up to the third floor. As I step off, I'm prepared to see Rico standing in front the entrance with an AK strapped to his chest. It catches me off-guard when a brown-skinned boy with a messy bush escorts me off the elevator instead.
"Where's Rico?" I ask.
"He ain't on the fourth floor?" The guy asks.
He's staring at me intensely waiting on my answer. By the look in his eye, I can guess that if Rico wasn't where he was supposed to be, he was gonna' have to answer to Caesar.
"Oh right. I forgot Caesar said 'There's a Rico on every floor'," I say.
The dude's face settles back into a poker face. He nods his head at my mistake as he guides me to what will now be my room.
"I'm Vonte, by the way. I'm the lookout for Floor 3."
"I'm Ca--"
"I know who you is, Boss," Vonte interrupts.
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling like an idiot at being called somebody's "boss". Once we reach the corner, we make a right and walk a little more. Soon, I can make out Fredo's tall frame standing outside my door.
We approach the door and I watch as him and Fredo slap hands. Both of them carry military type guns in their hands so their handshake is kinda awkward.
"You got somebody coming to see you today?" Vonte asks.
"Yeah, two girls. One's a redhead and she should be coming with a dark-skinned chick."
"Cool. I'll send 'em yo way. Nice to meet you, Candyce," Vonte says.
"Nice to meet you too," I say as Vonte walks back to his post.
I turn my attention to Fredo.
"Wassup, Candyce?" Fredo greets.
"Hey," I say.
I don't dare stick my hand out to dap him off. Instead we share a silent head nod as I unlock the door. Before I could push the door closed behind me, Fredo sticks his head in the doorway.
"Don't lock the door, aight? I'm standing out here so you don't gotta worry bout nobody coming in. I just need to be able to get inside if anything happens," Fredo says.
"Okay," I say.
He gives me another head nod and then pulls the door closed for me.
When the door separates us for good, I let out an excited squeal. The room doesn't look much different than the other room I've been in. The kitchen is still to my left. Only now, there's no Munch taking up half the space. The living room is what's most different. The living room is sectioned off by steps that leads into a 70s style conversational pit. The sofa is a rust red with regular decorative pillows covering it. The floors are wooded and the staircase railing is black. It leads to an upstairs that has a bedroom and no door, since it is a Loft, after all.
The decor is so nice it almost makes me wish I was living here instead of doing business here. Honestly, Ace could make so much more money if he rented these apartments out. Then again, there's always the risk of a grumpy tenant running their mouth to the wrong people. So, maybe it's best he doesn't.
Once I get over the layout of the place, I chill in the living room waiting for Max and Phor to show up. It's been exactly two weeks since I gave them the bags of Molly and Coke. Two whole weeks without so much as an update from them. I still didn't know if things went well, or if they were able to sell anything at all. I can only hope they stuck to the plan.
About 30 minutes slide by before Fredo knocks on the door twice. I sit up on the couch, looking for my sandals I kicked off to get comfortable. Fredo opens the door before I have time to locate them so I don't bother putting them on. I stand inside the conversational pit in my white all-into-one with my white toes to match. My hair is up into a bun on the top of my head so my hair isn't in my face when Max and Phor walk in.
They cower away from Fredo and his gun. He merely makes sure they're all the way inside before closing them in.
"What the fuck, Candyce? You got two niggas checking us into your place with them big ass guns on them?" Max says.
As someone who understands what it feels like to be greeted by not one, but two, niggas strapped up like they're ready for battle, I know how she feels.
"It's just a precaution. He didn't shoot you did he?" I ask.
Max lets out a loud sigh. She turns in a full 360 to check out the apartment.
"Is this you?" She asks.
Her eyes gleam as she waits for my answer. The loft is impressive but there was no way in hell I could afford a place like this without their help.
"Nah. A friend lets me use it to handle business," I say.
"Must be some friend," She says.
Finally, she steps inside the pit with me. Phora is a few steps behind her, dragging her feet really. I notice how she keeps her head down while Max throws her purse down with all the confidence in the world.
I raise my eyebrows at her, "I'm assuming shit went well at the stripclub?"
"I don't know. You tell me," She says.
In the next breath, she empties her Michael Kors purse onto the table. The stacks of money makes a thud as they fall onto the table. There are stacks of fifties, twenties and ones all crumpled up and tied together with rubber bands. I can't help the grin that takes over my face.
"Some of it might be sweaty. Lucky wouldn't let a bitch leave the floor to put the money up so I danced with it on me most nights," Max says.
God, I want to hug her. I refrain from it though 'cause I'm not sure if we're all the way there yet. I get on my knees to count unwrap the bands from around the money. She was right. Some of the bills have to be pulled apart since they're so moist. Normally, I'd be grossed out but as of now?! I don't give a fuck how she hands the money over, as long as she has it.
I'm in the middle of my count when Max speaks up.
"It's $5,500. Trust me, I counted."
"How? The shit all together was like 7 grand," I say.
Max shrugs, "So I overcharged them niggas."
I give her a look my mom would probably give me. I appreciate the extra money but upselling on cocaine and Molly seems a bit hazardous. I ain't want it to get out that our prices were fluctuating depending on who the dealer was. It's a good thing Phor sold at a different club 'cause New Orleans is small. Who knows how many people know Max and Phor hang together?
I finish the count without warning Max. Something tells me she wouldn't listen to me anyway so I let it slide. Like I said, we could use the extra money.
"$5,500 like you said," I say.
Max nods her head. Now that she's in the clear and on my good side, she stretches out on the sofa.
"Phor?"
I'm regrouping the money Max made so it takes me a second to notice how quiet Phor has been.
"Phor?" I call again.
"Huh?"
"You next," I say.
The only movement in the room is me slapping the rubber bands on the money. At first, I think I'm trippin'. After 2 more minutes of silence, I sit the money on the table and turn to face her.
Her posture says it all. Her head is down. She's playing with her thumbs in her lap and her knees are pushed together. Her demeanor is as if she's a kid in the principal's office. This can't be good.
"Phor, where's the money?" I ask.
Panic is starting to slip into my voice. My heart starts racing as my mind tries to think up reasons why she's so quiet. Did she get robbed? Did she not make any sells? My mind is jumping from one conclusion to the next meanwhile she's sitting there like she's a question away from tears.
After she put my mind through what feels like hell, she finally reaches into her purse and hands over two stacks of cash.
A sigh of relief escapes me. I was starting to believe she actually did get robbed.
I hold my hand out for the rest of the money but instead, she pulls out a large ziplock bag. Inside are smaller bags of cocaine all piled together. Beside them are the Ecstasy and Molly pills. These are the last two things I wanted to see.
I don't have a chance to berate her 'cause excuses start to pour out of her within seconds. I listen to her ramble on but the only thing I'm really hearing is the receptionist at Entergy saying we only had two more weeks to pay our light bill. If we didn't come up with what we owed in back payments, we were gonna be sitting in the dark come next Friday. What the fuck am I gonna do with $1,000?
"Phor, just stop!" I say.
Her lips clamp shut quickly. Max sits up on the couch.
"Where's the rest of the money?" I ask.
"I told you! I couldn't sell that much in one night!" Phor yells.
"One night? Fuck you mean one night? You said you had three clubs booked!" I yell.
"Private events, Candyce! Which means smaller crowds. How was I supposed to sell when everybody and their mama could see me?"
I put my hands to my head to massage the migraine forming at my temples. I had too much riding on this drop. To think about it, maybe I had too much riding on this. I put entirely too much faith in Phor and that's on me. I should have known better.
"Phor, you really gonna sit up there and give me excuses when Max made five times as much as you and almost half of what she was supposed to make?" I ask.
Phor's mouth opens and closes while she tries to find the right words without whining. I'm pacing the pit now, thinking up solutions to this problem. A problem that could have easily been avoided if I never brought her in to begin with.
"Alright, Candyce, chill out, okay? I made more than enough to cover what she didn't sell," Max says.
The fuck was she talking about? That's not how shit works. How was I gonna go back to Caesar with the full amount of money and nearly half a bag of product? He'd never front me again.
"That's not how shit works," I tell her.
"I'm hosting another club tonight," Phor interjects.
"Another private event?" I ask.
She rolls her eyes with a look of disgust.
"I'm saying, I could try again tonight."
"Try?" I ask.
"You know what I mean, Candyce! There's supposed to be football players coming in town for the game. It's gonna be packed so I can probably sell a lot more," Phor finishes.
I shake my head. We're at the point of no redemption, if you ask me. Clearly, I was stupid for trusting that Phor would handle business. I'll be damned if I make that mistake again.
"What's the name of that club again?" I ask.
My headache eases while the wheels in my brain start to turn. I know Caesar and I came up with this idea so that I could make money and keep my hands clean. But nobody ever got anywhere without getting their hands a little dirty.
If damage control meant hustling myself, it's what I'm willing to do. 'Cause this hopeless feeling in my chest ain't it. At least I know I can count on myself.
"It's called Legacy," Phor says.
"Send me the address," I say.
"You gonna sell it?" Phor asks.
"You ain't selling it so yeah, I have to."
Max chuckles lowly.
"I missed the joke," I say.
"I can tell," She laughs.
She rises from the sofa, sliding her purse onto her shoulder.
I'm about to call Fredo in to escort them out when Max reaches across the table. She picks up a stack of money out of her pile and is about to put it into her purse when I stop her.
"What you doing?" I ask.
"Getting my cut," She says.
"That's not how this goes."
Max sighs deep, "Candyce, you keep talking bout that's not how shit go. I worked my ass selling that shit so I'm getting my cut."
"Nobody said you wasn't. You just not getting it right now. I told you when we started if you didn't have patience that this wasnt the job for you. Phor left us a half of bag of shit to sell."
"What that gotta do with me?"
"We're. Not. Done. Yet. How you want a check when yo shift ain't even over yet?"
Max stares at me with the meanest mug I've ever seen on a bitch. How is that this is our first trial run and both of them were already fucking up?
Max stomps up the stairs and towards the door without another word. Phor follows behind her like a miserable, helpless puppy.
"Call me when you have my money," Max calls.
The door opens and slams shut. I stare at all the money on the table. How is it that this is the most money I've seen at once and it's still not enough?
I drop down into the sectional. I stretch my body out so that one foot is on the floor and the other is on the sofa. For a split second, I start to second guess myself. This first drop tells me alot about our hustle. First, that it could work. All the money from Max proves it. But, it also tells me that my plan only works with the right people. Phor was proof enough of that.
I'm not sure what that means for my business in the long run. For now, it means I can only rely on myself.
I mean, I've never been a drug dealer before but how hard can it be?
...
The line for the club Phora told me about is wrapped around the corner. People are so eager to get inside they've hiked their dresses up higher than necessary and even started to cling to the football players. It's a sight for sore eyes the way these hoes are embarrassing themselves to get a sliver of attention from football players.
Their desperation works in my favor though. After waiting in the backseat of the lyft to spot the crowd, I finally get out and join them. Except I refuse to stand in that line like a lame. I bypass everyone in the line and head straight for the bouncer at the entrance. He's tall, Mexican and has a bald head. But more importantly, he likes to sniff a little coke here and there. Or at least, that's the intel I got from Phora.
He looks like he's about to show me to the back of the line before I can tell him what my business is. Before he has a chance to send me away, I think quick on my feet. In my experience, the element of surprise usually works best.
So, I step into his personal space until my chest is touching the top of his stomach.
"Pauly!" I say.
I stand on my tippy-toes to kiss below his ear.
"I have a gram of coke in my purse if you let me in," I whisper into his ear.
When I back away, Paul the Bodyguard has a stern look on his face. I almost think I made a mistake pointing him out but he's the only Mexican out here. The other guard next to him is black so there are no chances of a mixup.
I pull the baggie out of my purse a little so Paul can see that I'm not lying. His dark bushy eyebrows retreat to the corners of his face as his face relaxes. He smirks at me while he unhooks the red rope to let me through.
Whew, that was easy enough, I think.
I exchange the bag from my hand to his as I cross the seal of the door.
It's not the smoothest exchange I've seen but the whole purpose of tonight is to recruit clients. The more people notice me and Pauly's business out there means the more people will know who to cop from tonight.
I clasp my gold clutch back together. Near the entrance, there's two more guards on either side as I walk in.
I give them both shy smiles but they barely pay me any attention. That's okay too 'cause I don't need my face recognized by every guard in here. That's just bad for business.
Once I'm passed Thing 1 and Thing 2, the layout of the club comes into view. Indigo lights dance around the club. Legacy itself is huge. Exotic dancers hang from the ceiling on metal contraptions. As a reformed stripper, I say exotic dancer for a reason. The way these girls are twirling around in the air, I just know they're the type to correct people when they call them what they are: strippers. Boujiee ass hoes.
Another look around the club and the private sections are obvious. The sections are against the right side of the dancefloor. V.I.P. sits above the dancefloor, connected by black marble steps that looks like it has the stars trapped inside. The seats are indigo like the lights and soft and plush. The couches in V.I.P. are circular and facing towards the dancefloor.
One glance at V.I.P. and I already know where the money is. Girls are lined up outside the red ropes, waiting to be invited in by someone. And by someone, I mean the football players. I'm not into sports at all, but I recognize money when I see it. By the bottle girls shuffling in and out of these sections, I know they're the stars.
As much as I want this night to end, I don't head straight to the private sections. My adrenaline is running high right now. From getting passed Pauly to making it all the way inside with half a bag of coke and Ecstasy pills, my mind is racing. Apart of me is wondering if I can actually pull this off or if I should. But the devil on my shoulder reminds me that I ridiculed Phora for not being able to do it, so I have to stand on that. Besides, I really need the fucking money.
I use the bar as a scapegoat while I wrestle with my thoughts.
"Can I have a Hennesy straight?" I ask.
The bartender looks me up and down. I stare back cause what the fuck is taking him so long? He continues wiping a glass clean like I'm not standing there.
I sigh and throw my fake ID on the counter.
"I don't have to look at this to tell it's a fake," He says.
"You ain't even look at it."
"I don't have to. I can tell by looking at you that you not twenty-one. Maybe eighteen but I doubt that too."
I don't try to argue with him even though I want nothing more than to slap my real ID down to show him he don't know everything. Instead, I roll my eyes, ready to give a little to settle my nerves.
"How much for a Hennesy straight?" I ask.
"Are you deaf?" He asks.
"No. But I can make you very rich or very high. Now, how much for a fucking Hennesy?" I ask.
Just then, the music shuts off. I don't have to turn around to feel every eye in the room on me.
I resist the urge to flip the bartender the bird. I turn to see what was so important that they turned the music off at a club on a night like this.
When I do, all eyes are faced towards the stage, not me. I look that way too and what do ya know? It's the bitch that got me here in the first place.
"My bad for the interruption, I know how bad y'all wanna finish turning up but I couldn't have the best football players in here without making some noise!" Phor screams on the mic.
The people on the dancefloor start clapping and hollering for the players. A bunch of hooting starts coming from the VIP sections too as the men slap each other on the back.
"I know y'all gon' whoop some ass tomorrow, ain't that right?!" Phor yells.
More hooting and cheering from them. Phor laughs, turning her attention to the DJ.
"This next one's a little motivation for y'all!" Phor says.
She hands the mic over and soon, Pardison Fontaine's "For The Win" starts blaring through the speakers. Some of the football players stand up and start rapping the lyrics while others sip and relax.
That could be me if this bartender wasn't acting like such a pussy.
I collect my purse from the sticky bar counter. I'm almost immersed inside the crowd when I hear him calling for me to come back.
I stomp over in my Giuseppe heels.
"What?" I bark.
He leans his upper body on the bar space, waving for me to join him. Ain't no way in hell I'm putting my freshly washed and shaved arms on this dirty ass bar so I push my hair out of the way to get my ear closer.
"You said you could get me high."
I step back to mug him.
"That deal was off the table the minute I walked away," I say.
I grab my purse again but this time, he grabs my arm. One look from me and he removes his hand quicker than Caese used to do when Ace was around.
"I just need something to take the edge off, know what I mean?" He asks.
"What you had in mind?" I ask.
Fuck the Hennesy, I may have found my first buyer.
He does a quick hand gesture of sniffing and pulling on his nose.
"How much you got?" I ask.
"I thought you wanted that drink."
I chuckle, "What I got is 90% pure. You gotta pay a little more than that."
He shakes his head at my demands like he's not the tweak preventing me from walking away. All I wanted was a drink. The coke was his idea. And just because he made a scene about not selling to me, I'm gonna upcharge him on the price. You know, respect and all that.
"$85."
"What?! Fuck no," He says.
"Okay."
I collect my things once again. I'm only two steps away when he calls me back.
"Fine."
I grant him a cheeky smile. He goes into his pockets to pull out what he's made in tips. I don't make a move towards my purse until the money is counted and in my hand.
When all $85 is accounted for, I slide a baggie his way. As I turn to leave, he calls me back yet again. He isn't copping enough to be bothering me this much.
"What?" I ask.
"I need to test it first," He says.
That's what this is about? I laugh.
"If it's not what I promised, come find me," I say.
"I don't even know your name!" He yells to my back.
"It's Candy! Ask about me," I say.
Just like that, my nerves settles and my confidence comes back in full swing. Now, it's about time I really get my night started.
I'm on the dancefloor all of 30 minutes, asking drunk girls to do Molly with me before another bartender comes to find me.
"You're Candy right?" She asks.
She's white, has brunette hair pushed into a sloppy ponytail and an apron tied around her waist. That's the only way I can tell she's a bartender. Not to mention, she and I are the only sober ones here.
I step away from the sea of girls I was pretending to party with. They came in all shades: Latina, Black and White, colorful like the pills on their tongues. I figure the only way to sell to girls looking for a party is to have a good time with them. They were too drunk to realize I never swallowed one pill. Yet, I'd sold four bags of X to them for $80 a pop.
I move the sweaty strands of hair stuck to my forehead away from my face. I wasn't taking any Molly, but I sure as hell was sweating like it. Dancing with them hoes was taking it out of me.
"Who's asking?" I ask the brunette.
"Brandon told me you helped him out earlier."
I watch her without answering. It's cool that "Brandon" was shouting me out but I wanted to make sure it wasnt to the wrong people. Her body language is calmer than her friend's. So, I'm assuming she doesn't hit the bag as much as him.
All in all, a sale is a sale.
"How much you got?" I ask.
"$170. B said you charged him $85 a bag."
"Dance with me," I say.
I pull her to me by the waist as I start to grind on her. She's stiff as fuck behind me so I know she's confused. That is until I slip two bags in her left hand.
She slowly starts to dance against me. I wait until the money is pressed into my other palm to back away from her. I don't give her a chance to test the product either. I dance back into my sea of girls who are way too excited to have me back.
I dance with them for a few more songs before I need some air. I crawl out of the mess of drunk, high and sloppy girls to get to the bar. I head straight to Brandon, whose nose is already red at the tip.
"I need some water!" I shout over the music.
Unlike before, he doesn't hesitate to squirt me a glass of water. I down it in seconds.
"I think I'll take that Hennesy now," I say.
He nods. He grabs another glass from behind the bar and pours brown liquor into it. I sip it slow, allowing the liquor to scorch my throat on it's way down. The taste is horrible but no good drink is ever tasty.
I look at my phone while I still can. Hennesy usually runs straight through me and into my panties. I didn't need one wrong sexy message to Reese to put him on my trails. I told him I was staying back at the crib tonight so the less he knows the better.
It's 11 o'clock so I've been here for just over an hour. The club has only gotten more packed. The line outside VIP is now moving into the dancefloor. I have to get over there before the line is too long to make headway with any of the players.
I do some calculations in my head. So far, I've made a little over $600. I'm doing okay, but considering I'm not in the mood to be in here all night, I need to start selling faster.
Leaving the bar, I abandon my girls on the floor to find another crew to invade. The next group I find is nothing like the last. These girls are more my style than those drunk hoes. I push my way into their circle by rapping the lyrics to Meek Mill and other known artists. My debute comes when the DJ starts to run bounce beats. I'm on the floor, barely able to keep my panties from showing as I shake my ass off.
Just like girls from New Orleans, they start to hype me up as I dance. Some of them go as far as tapping my ass while I dance. Before long, I've got a circle around me. The attention killed two birds with one stone. It made the girls open up to me and it grabbed the attention of the players in VIP.
I see some of them standing up to get a look at the girl in the red dress, stirring up all this chaos. I make sure to make eye contact with them while I dance. I know some of them are most likely married so they turn away quickly. The other unfaithful dogs only look away cause there's someone right in front them stealing their attention. Only one guy continues to lock eyes with me. He's white, has blondish-white hair and a full beard. He's attractive but that only matters cause it'll make it easier to pretend to flirt with him.
When the song goes off, the crowd gives me a standing ovation. I break my gaze from White Boy to feed into the applause. I laugh and thank them. Most of them file off but a good portion stays along with the group of girls.
"Girl, what the fuck you been drinking cause I need some of that!" One girl goes.
A bunch of agreements surface around the crowd.
"Girl, I don't even drink. I'm on that other shit ya heard me," I say.
One girl turns her lip up, "Oh, nevermind then. I don't hit the bag."
"Bitch me either," I say.
They all wait for my response.
"I'm on X, girl," I say.
"Ohhh," The crowd cooes.
One boy in particular pushes his way over to me. He's apart of the crowd who was summoned over by my ass shaking. His hair is dyed blue and green in a perfectly lined up mohawk.
"Bitch, I shoulda known! You got more?" He asks.
I look at his paint-splattered leather jacket and matching leather tights. If this isnt enough of an indication, he's also wearing silver pumps.
I laugh, "Yes, bitch!"
"How much you selling for?" He asks.
"7 pills at $80," I say.
I was charging the first group of girls 10 for 80 but they nearly cleaned me out. My prices not changing just cause I'm out. If anything, that means my prices increase. Supply and demand. It's simple shit.
"Oh uh-uh! That's highway robbery!" The boy screams.
"Right. We'll go find that shit somewhere else," The girl in the group says.
They start to walk away but I think of something quick.
"You can try but as far as I know I'm the only one selling tonight. You can try to get out the club and find somebody but good luck getting back in. I came an hour ago and the line was around the corner. I wonder where it's at now?" I say.
They give each other looks 'cause they know I'm right. We barely have enough space on this dancefloor as is. The club is definitely packed to the roof and the bouncers are still letting people in. They could find X cheaper somewhere else but Legacy is the place to be tonight. 9/10 their next dealer is in here right now. But who boutta walk up to random people asking for Ecstasy?
Exactly.
They huff and puff and all but blow me down as they reach inside their purses. They each buy a bag and stomp away from me. When the girls leave, the black boy lags behind with his tall, equally obnoxious friend.
"So, you sell coke too?" He whispers.
"$85."
"How pure?"
I dig inside my purse and find my house keys and a bag of cocaine. I dip the key inside and lift it up to him.
"Try it," I say.
He takes it up one nostril. He shakes his head and plug his nose closed while the impact rocks through him. When the high settles on him, his eyes are wide with excitement.
If I knew it was gonna be all that, I woulda been letting people try it first. I'd probably have more of the shit gone by now.
"How pure you said this was?" He asks.
"90%" I say.
"And bitch you selling that shit in here?!" He asks.
"Bitch, let me try it!" His friend says.
"Only one free trial, boo. If you want it, you gotta buy it," I say.
"Shit bitch, give me four bags!" He says.
We exchange a lot effortless than I did with Paul at the door. I check to make sure nobody has eyes on us as they walk off. Even if someone was keeping track of me, it's a lot harder to do with all the people flooding the dancefloor.
Yet somehow, White Boy still has eyes on me from VIP.
I give him a sexy smile before excusing myself to find a bathroom. I push past all the sweaty people, who only making the club feel tighter and hotter. There's a wait for the bathroom by the time I get there. I do more calculations in my head while I wait.
So far, the last batch of girls raised me to $400. The gay boy and his friend just upped my total to $340. So altogether, I've made a little over $1,340.
In two hours.
At the club Phor is hosting.
Why do I need her ass again?
Finally, the bathroom becomes available. I walk in and try to look the door behind me but the lock is broken. I close it anyway, hoping the drunk bitches have enough sense to not come in while I'm in here.
The bathroom is hideous compared to the rest of the club. One toilet occupies the room with a tiny sink to compensate. The trash is overfilled with tampons and pads bitches didn't bother to wrap in toilet paper. I literally gag breathing in the scent of old blood, fishy smells and fresh vomit. That last bitch could've warned me or something.
Either way, I squat above the toilet bowl and let the Henny, but mostly water, flow through me. When I'm done, I use my heel to flush. I creep over to the mirror above the sink.
My hair is matted and sticky to my head. I reek of sweat and my makeup is literally melting off my face. I can't believe people out there saw me like this. No wonder those girls really thought my ass was on X. I look like I've been partying for a day straight.
I get to work immediately. My next mission is VIP. Soon as I leave here, I plan on getting the rest of the cocaine off my hands by dealing to the eagle eye white boy.
I use water and travel soap to scrub my arms clean. Then, I rub a travel-sized deodorant in my armpits. I dab a little water on my hair and do my best to tie it into a bun on top my head. Thankfully my red dress is a halter top so I have no stained armpits to be embarrassed about. I tidy up my lipstick and re-apply my foundation.
Thanks to all those complementary travel sized soaps I took from Reese and I's old hotel escapades, I'm looking as good as I did when I stepped in here.
I collect my purse with the cocaine inside. I make sure the money is tucked nice and neat in my bra before I pull the door open.
Only as soon as I open the door, I'm being pushed back inside. The body is big and covers my face instantly with its strong chest. I'm on the verge of screaming when I get a whiff of the cologne on this person.
"Caesar what the fuck are you doing here?!"
He steps back so I can take his appearance in. He's dressed in a grey short-sleeved button-down with dark grey ripped jeans and black and grey Dior tennis to match. His gold medallion hangs on his neck. It's not until now that I realize the chain is an outline of his grandmother's face.
"Look at me," Caesar goes.
I barely have enough time to pull my eyes away from his chain cause he's grabbing my face and forcing me to his eye-level.
My hands instantly go up to slap his hands away.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" I ask.
"I was tryna see if you was high. The way you was selling in the middle of the club, you had to be," He says.
"You sure you ain't follow me into the bathroom 'cause of my moves?" I ask.
He pauses, "Girl that seizure shit you was doing on the floor? I wouldn't even bring that up again if I was you."
I roll my eyes and cross my arms across my chest.
"So I sold to a few people, what's the problem?" I ask.
"The problem is I could see ya little ass from across the floor. Inconspicuous, sneaky, subtle. You ain't never heard of shit like that?" He says.
I swat his hand away from my head.
"You know what I think Caesar?" I ask.
"What?"
"I think you could spot me from a mile away and it ain't got nothing to do with drugs."
We stare at each other. Suddenly, this tiny bathroom feels a thousand degrees hotter.
"You been drinking?" He asks.
"No."
"Ya lying."
"Who you posed to be? My dad? Ace? Reese?"
"I'm the nigga looking out for you. Do you see Reese in this stanky ass bathroom with you?" Caesar says.
Oh shit.
"Is he here?" I ask.
"So you scared of him and not me? That nigga be whooping yo ass huh?" Caesar jokes.
"Shut up. Is he here or not?"
Caesar shakes his head.
My body relaxes knowing Reese isn't here to catch me with Caesar yet again. Only, I doubt he'd be as forgiving seeing Caesar and I in a bathroom together.
I know the same thing must be going through his head about Keyana. Still, I don't leave and neither does he. In fact, he leans against the door to prove how dedicated he is to this forbidden encounter.
"What you doing here anyway?" I ask.
Caesar nods his head at me, "You first."
"You was right about Phor. She couldn't sell what she needed to so I'm here to make up for her losses."
It sucks to admit to Caesar that he was right. But like I said, I'd rather be honest with him since he'll most likely be the one cleaning up my mess if this turns into one.
"How much you sold so far?"
"Most of it. I have more coke to get through but I gotta plan already set in motion for that."
"You know I was watching you out there. You fit into crowds easy. Like a lil' chameleon or something. It's good, but be careful. When you resemble something people expect you to be that person. What happens if you ina situation and you can't be that person they expect you to be?" Caesar says.
"I don't know. But that hasn't happened and it's not going to. This is first and last night doing this and then... I'll let you pick the girls," I say.
Caesar grins. It's one of the few times I've gotten a real smile out of him and of course it's when he finally gets what he wants.
"That was simple wasn't it?" He asks.
"Haha. Get the fuck out. I got money to be made," I say.
"Don't say shit like that to me, Red. You know money is the key to my heart."
I push Caesar out of the door without answering. I'm right behind him, ignoring the girls who Caesar made wait by bumrushing the bathroom.
Back on the dancefloor, Caesar and I split up. At first I think he's going to rejoin whoever he came here with, but instead he's going in the direction of the door.
"Where you going?!" I yell over the music.
"I'm headed out!" He says.
I still don't know what he was doing here to begin with. Especially with him being dressed up for once. I didn't think the boy owned anything other than white T-shirts.
"Why you leaving so early?!" I ask.
"You just said it. There's money to be made! Call me if you need me!" He says.
I track him as far as I can until he disappears into the crowd.
No lie, Caesar really threw me off my game. And for a bunch of reasons, at that. At first seeing him felt comforting, almost like a coach at halftime. But Caesar being Caesar, of course he turned that into a teaching moment. Now I'm kinda unhinged heading over to Eagle Eye's private section.
Caesar dressed in something other than a white Tee for once, also didn't help with my focus.
I pull it together anyway as I stand behind the girl in line. Eagle Eye notices me instantly and whispers something in one of his bodyguard's ear. I act shy as the man makes his way over to me.
"Connor personally asks you to join him in VIP."
I flash my brightest smile at Connor as I follow his body guard. The girls mean mug the shit out of me in the line.
As I walk over to him, Connor sends the other girls away. I don't miss the annoyed looks they give me too. They are doing too much behind him, if you ask me. They could have him when I was done if he was worth all this trouble.
"Hello, gorgeous," He says.
"Hello, yourself handsome," I say.
I take a seat next to him but not so close that he'll assume I'm one of these thirsty chicks. He notices the distance between us and grins.
"I've heard about you."
Well, that one catches me off-guard.
"Oh really? What have you heard?"
His finger pulls at the hem of my dress, "Devil in a red dress, is what they say."
This nigga.
I laugh him off.
"You know, I've heard about you too."
"Is that right?"
"Yeah, a famous soccer player or something?"
He stumbles for a second. I have to laugh for him to know that I'm joking.
"I'm Candy," I say.
He kisses my hand instead of shaking it.
"And I'm that famous soccer player or something."
The bottle service girls come over and I'm glad for it. I'm gonna need some sort of stimulus to keep up this flirtation. Nothing against Connor, but the only boy I'm interested in is the one whose back I have to sneak around to get shit done. Not the best situation, but it's the one I plan on sticking with.
When the sparklers are placed beside the bottles, I reach for the bottle of champagne. It's only in that moment that I realize Phor is one of the bottle service girls.
"Candy," She says.
She says it like I'm gonna beat her ass where she's standing. I'm pissed that I'm the one who had to take her spot but not nearly mad enough to fight her. If she tried to talk this afternoon, then maybe; as of now, I have nothing against her. I won't be working with her again but that's no reason to start up unnecessary beef.
"Hey, Phora," I say.
Before she can make conversation, I hand my glass to her.
"Can you mix this with some orange juice, please?" I say.
She looks from me to the glass. Finally, she takes the glass from my hands. The way she stomps off makes me worry that she'll spit in my shit.
I won't be drinking it anyway. I just needed her away from me and Connor. My last weight of cocaine depended on how this went over with him and I couldn't waste a moment chatting it up with her. Something tells me if I paid attention to someone other than Connor for a second, he'd get rid of me.
Okay and maybe I'm still not over this morning.
I give Connor my full attention.
"I think it's time to have some fun. What about you?" I ask him.
"And how do you suppose we do that?"
An idea flickers on in my brain.
I open my purse to let him peek inside.
"How about you invite some girls over here and we'll go from there?" I say.
He watches me carefully. The lust is all over his face. So, I'm not surprised when he lifts his hand to wave some girls over.
I grab his hand mid-air.
"They don't party if they don't pay to get in," I say.
I get real close to his lips. I sit his hand further up on my thigh.
He chuckles, "My treat."
I smile while the girls start to file over. There's about ten of us altogether but I'm the one who keeps Connor's attention. Meaning, I'm the one who controls the show.
He hands over 3 grand for what I have left in my purse. He didn't ask for the price and I won't be telling him.
"Pull the curtain," He calls to his guard.
The guard crosses over us to reveal a heavy curtain, the same color purple as the seats.
"To avoid PR problems," Connor says.
He keeps his eyes on me as the girls take turns cutting the lines and doing coke. Some of them are so desperate for attention, they're snorting up more than what's healthy. I don't stop anyone. It's not my job to police what a bitch is willing to do for a nigga. As long as that money continues to sit pretty in my purse, I have no complaints.
Once the girls start feeling the high, they start to notice that the way get Connor's attention is through me. One by one, the girls start to dance with me. Some grind against me, others give us lap dances. I entertain some of it 'cause I can see that it's riling Connor up.
Eventually, the girls are so high, they forget all about Connor or the reason they came over here. They start dancing on each other, leaving Connor, me and the coke alone.
"How about we partake in some fun?" Connor says.
"Um, it's not my drug of choice," I say.
"C'mon. I just bought $3,000 worth of cocaine off you. You telling me you can't do a line with me?"
One look at Connor and he's dead serious. The more I resist, the less asking he does, and the more he demands.
Panic starts to rush through me when he closes the space between us. He holds me next to him with one hand on my thigh and the other around my waist.
Why the fuck did I let Caesar leave? I think.
"Just do a fucking line, bro."
"I've never done it before," I blurt out.
"Fine. I'll show you. And then you go."
He doesn't wait for me to agree. His nose is on the rolled up dollar bill in an instant. He snorts a hard line. He plugs his nose then hand the makeshift straw to me.
I think about running but with this heavy ass curtain sealing us away from the rest of the club, I know his bodyguard will catch me. There is also no way in hell I'm sticking that shit up nose.
My hands start to shake from nervousness. A plan is still forming in my mind when he pushes my head down on the silver platter. I stare at the cocaine, wondering if there's a way to fake sniffing it. Even if I tried, the lines are cut too close together so I'll probably inhale residual cocaine anyway.
"It's not that fucking hard. Just give it here."
I'm entirely too grateful when Connor snatches the tray from me. He takes the dollar bill and sniffs another line.
"See?" He says.
Then he bends his head to do another hard line. These lines he's sniffing are long as fuck.
"Not that hard is it?"
Two more hard ass lines. My eyes widen as he does another. Why the fuck did I have to pick the crazy one?
I quietly grab my purse and ease away from the seat. He's still mumbling "See?" when he comes up from air. Only thing I'm seeing is a crazy white boy auditioning for A Thousand Ways To Die. No wonder they placed him in the section with the curtain.
I'm almost away from him, when his hand grips my wrist.
"Now where the fuck you think you running off too with my money?" He asks.
I'm fully prepared to fight him off if I have to. After seeing someone do nine lines of coke, survival instincts kick in pretty quick.
Luckily, I don't have to cause he starts to seize. His chest pokes all the way out. His face goes a bright red. All of the veins in his neck give birth to the vein in his forehead.
The second his bodyguard rushes over to him, I race out of there. The curtain is heavier than I imagined. I use all my strength to open it enough to get out.
The club's entrance is still flowing with people. I think now's the time for a fucking nightcap. I push past everyone in the crowd, occasionally looking back to make sure Connor isn't following me.
I nearly have to bulldoze my way through the dancefloor to reach the door. My heart is pounding and my feet are killing me. I haven't been this paranoid since Angel was looking for me.
"Candyce!"
I turn in a full circle before I realize where the voice is coming from. I sigh way too loud when I see who it is.
I hurry over to Tory, Ace's number one hitman. Next to him are Munch, whose taking up most of the third sofa alone and the guy I recognized from the other day.
"What's your name again?" I ask.
"Daz," He says.
His eyebrows are tense. Then I realize all of them are looking at me like that. As scared as I am, I must look like I'm the one who sniffed nine lines of coke.
"Who you running from, kid?" Tory asks.
His dreads are in his face per usual. His skin is dark and shielded by his hair but I can see the ruthlessness behind his eyes.
"Uh, nobody. I'm just ready to go."
Daz, Tory and Munch all start getting up. Daz ashes out the blunt he was smoking. He doesn't realize how good it feels to see someone doing normal drugs.
"Wait, where y'all going?" I panic.
Tory looks down at me.
"I thought you said you was ready to go?"
He actually has a confused look on his face. As if I really made that comment expecting all of them to get up and leave.
"I said I was ready to go. I'm with y'all now though so I'm okay."
And I am. I have never appreciated my brother's soldiers as much as I do in this moment.
"Well who says we wanna hang with yo scary ass," Munch says.
I look over at him.
"Clearly nobody wanna hang with yo fat ass since not nere one of these girls on you," I say.
Daz chokes on his blunt smoke. Tory laughs too.
Munch takes the blunt from Daz who's momentarily dying.
"Where them hoes you was running from? I'd pay em $20 to come stomp yo muhfuckin ass," He says.
I chuckle a little. Then, I start watching the club to make sure Connor ain't risen from the dead.
"Damn girl, chill. Take a sip of this. Yo ass trippin," Tory says.
He passes me a glass of Dusse to take the edge off. I swallow it gladly.
"What you doing here anyway?" Tory asks.
"She prolly here to spy on Reese," Munch says.
"Wait, he's here?" I ask.
Munch starts laughing obnoxiously.
"Ahhhh! I told you they asses was fucking around. Give me my money!" Munch says.
I know you fucking lying.
I stare in shock as Tory and Daz pull out $100s and pass them over to Munch.
"Please tell me y'all ain't make a bet about whether me and Reese was dating," I say.
"Nigga gotta make money some way," Munch goes.
"What does that mean?" I ask.
All three men get quiet.
"Tory?" I ask.
"What you asking me for? I ain't the nigga that said it."
"But you the only one I know that got brains," I say.
"No offense, Daz. I just don't know you like that," I go.
Daz raises his hands, "None taken."
I focus back on Tory.
He sighs, "Let's just say ya mans ain't like me calling him out about Ace's fed case."
I have to think back to a few months ago. That happened right after Ace went into hiding. Tory stood up and questioned why Caesar didn't get caught up in the raid. His accusations didn't make sense then and they don't now. So why was Caesar taking Tory's comment to heart?
"So he ain't been what? Giving y'all work?" I ask.
Tory nods his head.
"Nigga been driving hisself mad trying to do all our jobs at once. Except Daz sell out ass," Tory says.
"First of all nigga I have a child at home. I ain't got time to be going on no union strike cause Caesar won't let you kill people," Daz says.
If I could remember correctly, Munch was in charge of one of the traps. I know from the other day that Daz is a coke runner, so he collects the money from the traps and also gives them product. And Tory is a killer.
So if Caesar been doing their jobs... does that mean Caesar been catching bodies these past few months? Was that the business he had to take care of when he left the club?
Now my mind is spinning with this new information.
"So Munch you just tied your hands with Caesar too?"
Munch shrugs and blows out smoke.
"None personal. I just don't work under distress," He says.
"Distress?"
"Gecko was my young bull from back ina day. I know he ain't no snitch. But somebody is. Plus, I don't work under nobody but Ace," Munch goes.
I pour myself another shot of Dusse. If Gecko was Munch's lifelong potna, then that means he was sitting across from one of the last people to see him alive.
The Dusse burns going down. I'm grateful for it cause it prevents me from talking while I piece this shit together.
"That's why y'all ain't know about me and Reese. Y'all ain't been around," I say.
"I knew," Munch goes.
Daz and Tory chuckle under their breath. I let Munch be the comedy relief he so desperate to be and laugh along with them.
"Hey, bitch!"
I turn to see where the voice is coming from. My blood runs cold when I see Connor standing there.
His face is permanently red. He's breathing heavy as fuck but it sounds more like wheezing, probably from all that coke he snorted. He's practically a walking zombie and I'm scared silent.
He lifts his hand and points, "You money hungry bitch! Give me back my fucking money!"
My eyes are buckwild and my lips are sealed shut in panic. Luckily, Munch never shuts up.
"Man who is this nigga?" Munch asks.
Tory scoots to the edge of his seat.
"Who the fuck is you yelling at?" Tory asks.
"This cocaine selling, money stealing bitch!" Connor yells.
People in the club start to look at us. Now, Tory stands up. Daz and Munch are right beside him.
"I suggest you go back to whatever grave you crawled out of. You ain't got no business over here," Tory says.
Connor doesn't falter. He's on nine lines of coke. Plus, I'm sure this nigga just died over there so he must be on a crazy adrenaline rush.
"I'm not going anywhere until that bitch gives me back all $3,000!"
Tory, Daz and Munch look over at me.
"You finessed this nigga out $3,000?" Tory asks.
I stare at them. Need they be reminded of the crackhead trying to kill me?
"I don't know what to tell you, my G. But you gotta take that shit somewhere else," Tory says.
"Did you not just hear me?! I said--"
Tory's gun appears in his hand out of nowhere.
"Did you not just hear me? I'll air this bitch out if you don't keep it moving."
Connor evil eyes me. His bodyguard runs up and Daz and Munch size him up. Tory's focus remains on Connor.
"We'll be going now. Forget this happened," His body guard says.
He grabs Connor's high ass and practically drags him out the club. I let out the longest breath of my life. I sit back into the sofa, thankful this night is almost over. When I look up, Tory, Daz and Munch are still staring at me.
"Yo, wasn't that the wide receiver for the Patriots?" Munch goes.
"I don't know. You want me to call the nigga back for an autograph?" Tory asks.
"Shit, I'm just saying," Munch says.
"You always saying something. Sit yo big ass down before you tilt over," Daz laughs.
Munch pushes Daz into the seat and all boys resume their positions on the sofa.
"Candyce, I don't know what type of shit you on, but I hope you got some niggas ready to ride behind you. If not, yo ass is in trouble," Tory says.