Braver (9 page)

“I love you, Granny,” I said, my voice hitching.

“I love you, too, Cocoa,” she said. “I’ll have you a special snack ready when you get back from school. That’s something to look forward to, isn’t it?”

“It is,” I said, fighting not to break down. I wasn’t going to be back to find out what it was. I wasn’t ever going to come back.

I stayed for a week with one girlfriend, another week with another girlfriend, and so on, jumping from couch to couch until I graduated high school. I'd long exhausted the friends who were willing to put me up and was on acquaintances by then.

So I'd taken my rolling suitcase and my diploma across the city, looking for a place to work and a place to live. Mama herself had found me sitting in the park, resting my legs.

"You going somewhere with that luggage?" she'd asked. "I'd get there soon, if I were you, the sun setting like it is. Looks like a tempting target for someone looking to do a pretty girl harm."

"I've got nowhere," I said glumly. "I've been looking for a place to live and a job all day — since early this morning."

Mama had brightened, sitting down next to me on the bench. Even back then, she'd dressed nicely, back before the nightclub was in its heyday.

"I have a proposition for you, then," she said. "I recently opened a nightclub that doubles as a boarding house. You work for your room and board. The tips are yours."

I was so tired and desperate — and looking back, I was sure Mama knew that. I said yes on the spot, not asking any questions.

At that point, Mama had about ten girls in her employment. I received training and found myself flourishing in the customer service industry. I liked talking to people and taking care of them.

By the time I really "serviced" my first customer, I trusted Mama so much that I did it gladly.

I sent a good portion of my tips to Granny each month. All I had to do was ask Mama for the funds. I always signed a little note card "Love, Cocoa," but never added a return address to the envelope. The last thing I needed was Tito figuring out where I was and offering to pay for a second opportunity to take everything from me.

I also never mentioned exactly what I did for a living. I told Granny that I was in customer service and sometimes wrote funny stories about actual customers — with the essential details modified, of course. I knew that if Granny realized what I really did for a living, sleeping with the highest bidder, she’d think that I had failed in life — meaning that she had failed me.

Granny had failed me when she took Tito’s side. But I couldn’t just forget her. She was practically my mother. It was only right that I send her some of my newly earned money — without telling her just how I earned it.

And so life at Mama’s nightclub began.

The core of girls stayed on for a while, then some left. A new influx of girls replaced them, our numbers growing until they became what they were today. It became less of a place of employment and more of a home — a sisterhood we all took part in.

Any time there was a holiday, or one of the girls' birthdays, or if we just felt like it, almost all of us would get together for lunch. We'd pull the tables in the nightclub together and help cook whatever the menu was.

Blue's birthday had probably been the most elaborate. She requested that we have a country-themed luncheon and that all of us wore our "farm finest." We had to scramble to come up with overalls, flannel shirts and daisy dukes before the big day.

The menu was pretty impressive, though, including pulled pork sandwiches, corn on the cob, green beans, biscuits, baked beans, baked apples, and individual strawberry shortcakes for dessert.

"Just like Ma used to make," Blue said, grinning in a way that you couldn't tell if she was teasing or being serious. She was everyone's friend but never talked much about where she was from.

It made me miss the good old days with Granny too much to request anything she'd make for me, like chicken noodle soup or cornbread and white beans. I figured it was for the best — some of the girls might find Granny's simple fare too plain for their tastes.

Still, it was better for me to be absorbed in my work than to dwell in my past. Those days were over. I had the girls and the nightclub, now.

On this night, Mama gave me a table of fifteen. I pulled Shimmy in to help with drink service, promising to tip her out at the end of the night. Shimmy and I always had a good rapport, even when she first came to the nightclub, and I hosted her in my room. We played well off each other.

"Watch where that big booty's going, Cocoa!" Shimmy sang out, slapping my ass as I tried to squeeze around her to deliver a plate to one of the customers.

I pouted for the customers' entertainment and put my hands on my hips.

"Careful, Miss Shimmy, or I'll ask you to give me another," I returned, batting my lashes.

The customers hooted and hollered.

It was a DJ night, which all of the girls loved. They danced across the floor of the nightclub when serving drinks and dinners, familiar with the hits because they'd heard them on the radio. Shimmy, of course, was in fine form, shaking it all around. Mama was at the door, still greeting the first crush of people.

One of the customers at the table beckoned me closer.

"I really want to do something special for my buddy, Mike," he said, gesturing down the table at a jocular, middle aged man. "He did something nice for me and I wanted to pay him back."

"Well, what do you have in mind?" I asked, raising a flirtatious eyebrow. "Want me to get him a piece of cake?"

"I think the only cake he'd be interested in would be one you'd jump out of," the man said. "I heard something about this place and I didn't know whether it was true. This is our first time."

"Virgins?" I asked, arching both of my eyebrows in mock surprise.

"I didn't say that," he said. "But is it true that we could pay to sleep with you?"

"Me or any of the other girls you see," I said, sweeping my hand out to indicate the rest of the nightclub.

"How much would it be?" the guy asked.

I wagged my finger at him. "Didn't your mother ever tell you it was impolite to talk about money at dinner? I better go get my Mama to teach you some manners!"

I winked at him and sashayed across the room. Mama would negotiate a price, and I would take care of the rest.

When she saw me coming, she smiled.

"Is it going to be that kind of night?" Mama asked. "Girl, we just opened our doors not thirty minutes ago."

She had her money look, and I could tell she was excited. Business at the nightclub was always good, but there were some nights when it was just plain magical. It was looking like one of those magical nights — when so many girls would disappear upstairs that it was hard to keep the customers downstairs with full plates and glasses.

Mama loved those kinds of nights.

We arrived back at the table, and Mama held a short and discreet whispered negotiation with the guy. I looked at Mike. He didn't seem so bad. He was laughing a lot and enjoying his drinks. I could usually tell the bad ones by the look of them, which isn't to say I could avoid sleeping with them. I had to sleep with anyone who paid for me. That was the nature of the beast. If you worked the floor of the nightclub, you had to be available.

For the bad ones, I just tried to be extra compliant upstairs. It meant that I had to work harder to earn my money. For the extra bad ones, I had Mama and the bouncers.

"Hey man!" the guy shouted, waving at Mike. "I got a surprise for you, dude!"

Mike stood up and walked over to his friend, who babbled at a level I couldn't hear over the rap music. He kept pointing at me, though, so I gathered that he was giving Mike the good news. Yes, I was for sale. Yes, I was Mike's for however long it took.

I took him by the hand and led him upstairs, giving Shimmy a nod so she could know the whole table was hers until I came back down.

“I’ve never slept with a whore before,” Mike said, the excitement evident in his voice as we walked down the hall to a room. “Well, never paid to sleep with a real one — slept with plenty of them, actually.”

I hid my wincing — we all hated to be called whores, even if that was what we were. We just called ourselves Mama’s girls.

“You’re funny,” I said, opening the room I preferred and ushering him inside. All of the rooms were tastefully decorated, but this one was in oranges — my favorite color. I felt more comfortable in here than anywhere else.

“Check out the digs,” Mike remarked, looking all around. “I’m liking the bed.”

All of the beds in the rooms were on platforms in the middle of the room. It gave the impression that they were all stages for the show that would soon follow.

“I’m going to get ready for you,” I said, smiling at Mike. “I suggest you make yourself comfortable.”

“Right on,” he said, looking around and testing the bed as I headed into the bathroom.

I did my normal routine — hair, makeup, quick wash-up, lube, and stripping down. I smiled with delight. I’d picked my orange lingerie for tonight. It made my skin tone stand out and matched the room. Maybe Mike would give me a little extra tip himself, since his friend had paid for the privilege of my presence.

When I walked out of the bathroom, Mike was holding his phone up at me.