Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 109178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
“Hey, save that attorney and therapist shit for the professionals. You ain’t no lawyer. You dropped out, remember?” He chuckled nastily. She was breathless with rage.
“Go to hell. I block your number, you call from a new one. Around and around we go. Don’t you have a new girlfriend to harass? What the psychologists call new supply?” She caught her face in the rearview mirror. Her eyes had turned almost pitch black with sheer anger.
“I’m done playin’ with you, Nadia. Don’t make me come to Houston and drag my money out of you. You know I will.” The aggressive version of him returned just like that… the mask slipping so damn fast.
“Oh, really? Bring yo’ silly ass on down here then, LeRon, since you big and bad! But I promise you it’ll be the last thing you do. I’m packin’, and I ain’t talking about no penis size, or for no road trip, either. I’ll shoot you in the ass and ram some Oreo cookies in both holes. How’s that for Only Fans, bitch?!” With that, she abruptly ended the call, her nerves on fire like freshly lit torches.
Ol’ narcissistic ass. I wish I’d never met him. She was so pissed that by the time she reached the club, she barely recalled making the twists and turns down the various streets to get there. She sat in the parking lot for a few minutes, chugging her Pepsi and smacking on the Cheetos until there was nothing left but orange dust. Once she calmed down, she blocked his latest number, slipped her phone into her purse, and grabbed her gray and purple duffle bag from the back seat.
When she entered the establishment, the beat of ‘Buttons,’ by the Pussycat Dolls, made her body pulse. The odor of cigarette and cigar smoke filled the area, while dizzying red lights spun along the ceiling, walls, and floors as she made her way to the dressing room. Zigzagging past early patrons and waitresses still setting up tables for the evening, she found herself below soft yellow ceiling lights and the smell of various intermingling fragrances. She greeted a few other dancers who were milling about, then entered her small private area. Her sanctuary.
She jerked the thick black curtain that served as a door closed, then plopped down on the black leather stool and wiped her hands with an alcohol pad, removing the Cheeto stains from her fingertips. And then, she just sat there… regrouping. The music from the dance area throbbed within her, getting her into the right state of mind after her disturbing conversation with her ex-boyfriend.
Every now and again, LeRon would pop up out of the blue. She could tell he’d been drinking, so she didn’t lay into him the way she really wanted to. He was draining, and though she was no stranger to ex-boyfriends trying to rekindle relationships that were in no way desirable for her to return to, he was on a whole different level. He was attractive to most of his prey, and out of his mind. Crazy, selfish, and controlling.
Shoving thoughts of him away, she focused on herself. On her job. On love that she knew didn’t really exist…
She closed her eyes and thought about sexy things like black and white silk, long kisses with men that made her heart thump, sex in a hot tub with incense and candles burning, and the romantic embraces she’d longed for, but never received. Her pulse raced as she replayed Lennox’s words that he’d whispered in her ear. ‘…Invoice paid in full with interest.’ Her stomach fluttered, but she couldn’t entertain that thought. She’d been down this road before—it never ended well.
She opened her eyes and checked herself out in the mirror. I’m going around and around and not getting anywhere. Her tired eyes would soon be covered by globs of concealer and red eyeshadow. Black eyeliner. False lashes.
Shoving her wayward thoughts aside, she got to her feet and slipped into her outfit: A neon black and red catsuit that glowed in the dark, with the cleavage, stomach, and ass cut out. Though it had cost a pretty penny, it made her feel sexy all over and helped to earn her big tips.
High ballers came into this club, and she was determined to drain their pockets dry. Only the best girls worked here, the ones that could really dance and not just twerk. Besides, the managers and security were top of the line. She’d worked a lot of clubs in Atlanta, dealt with crappy promoters, dudes that wanted to get some pussy before hiring or take big cuts of her pay. It was a complete circus—an arena full of monkeys, clowns and piranhas parading as humans. Ring leaders of bullshit. She was a veteran at this point and in this line of work, that wasn’t a plus. Clients wanted young flesh, something to make them feel youthful. Some were naïve and too trusting. But she was book smart… street smart… life smart.