Chapter 8 #3
“Yeah. I could. Hopefully it happens one day.”
“Shit me too. Maybe it can if I can just find a man who has it like that.”
“That’s the thing, Tania. You don’t have to find a man to get to this level.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do, go to the pole?”
I laughed. “Of course not. Nobody is paying to see your little ass shake.”
We laughed together, loud and quick, the sound bouncing off the high ceilings like we belonged there.
“But for real, you are blessed Tee. When it comes to hair, nobody in D.C. can lay a wig down like you. You know that. Open your books more and take more clients weekly. Just think about it, friend, five heads a day at two hundred each. That’s $1000 a day.
Six days a week, that means it’s six thousand a week. ”
She sighed, shoulders sinking.
“Yeah, I know. I get down on myself. I’ll do someone’s hair, and look at it so long that I start hating it.
And don’t get me started on these bitches and their attitudes, or people not wanting to pay two hundred when I’m the cheapest person on the East Coast. That took all the fun and want out of doing hair. ”
I let her ramble. That was Tania, always finding a reason to doubt herself when good things tried to land in her lap.
I would take attitudes and tangled bundles all day before I’d take men grabbing on my body, telling me how to move it, and what ways to bend.
She didn’t even realize how good she had it being able to style hair good.
We sat in the quiet for a second, and I grabbed the remote as she let out a long yawn.
“I’m putting something on. Proctor out there smoking his life away. I wish he’d invite me out there. I need to hit the blunt, but I’m low-key getting sleepy.”
She yawned again wide. “Girl, it’s been a long day.”
“Yes, it has.”
I flipped through the channels passing up the show Martin, but that felt like too much energy, so I landed on The Golden Girls, which was the same show me, her, and Ari had fallen asleep to plenty of nights in the past.
The episode wasn’t even on for five minutes before her head started dipping inch by inch as she fought to stay up.
As she got sleepy, I was getting more awake.
That nervous, restless feeling in my chest wouldn’t calm down, and once Tania started snoring, I heard footsteps echoing from the back hallway.
“Y’all up in here watching The Golden Girls? What the fuck. I haven’t seen this shit since my grandma died. Damn. Your homegirl passed out, huh?”
“Yeah.” I looked over to Tania, whose head was completely tilted back.
“That liquor got her.”
“Well, we don’t want to wake her up, so you want to come in here?”
“Come where?”
“I have a little room close to my bedroom where I sit when I don’t want to be in this big-ass space.”
“Why wouldn’t you want to be in here? You have the nice windows, the fireplace, the kitchen right there.”
“Yeah, I know, but the other room is small, quiet, and comfortable. It’s more like the living rooms I grew up in as a child. Sometimes this space is too much for me. I be seeing shit.”
I laughed softly, nerves buzzing under my skin.
“Well, I guess I’ll come. I definitely don’t want to sit in here so long that I start seeing shit too.”
He laughed while playing in his beard.
I stood and followed behind him, close enough to feel the pull of his presence without touching him. When we walked into the smaller living room, it settled me instantly with one couch, one chair, and a TV mounted above a small fireplace.
Proctor sat down and leaned back; his arms stretched across the couch like he owned every inch of air in the room. Once I sat beside him, I felt small, almost like I was next to a giant. Me and Josiah were pretty close in height, so I never felt this petite next to his ass.
“So, what did you give your friend that has her knocked out like that?”
I froze.
“Excuse me?”
A low laugh slipped from him.
“Don’t play with me, gorgeous. I saw what you did. What did you give her? And how long is she going to be sleeping over there?”
“I—I—” The words tangled in my throat. My face burned. How fucking embarrassing was this?
“Don’t worry about it. I get it. Shorty cute and all, but she runs her mouth too damn much. I got friends like that. I’d drug her ass too if I wanted some real time with somebody.”
“Who said I wanted real time with anyone? I just knew that she’d drink and drink and drink and regret that shit in the morning.”
“Or maybe you didn’t want her to drink and keep making moves on me.”
A smirk tugged at his mouth.
“Whatever, Proctor.” I laughed lightly.
“And for the record, I didn’t drug her. It was just Benadryl.”
“Damn, she must be a lightweight. Her ass is knocked out. But now that she is sleep. I can really get closer to you.” He moved his body in my direction.
“Are you really ready to get married? I know a lot of women say yes to get dressed up and eat fancy dinners, but don’t think about the rest of their lives. Is he a good dude?”
“I guess. I mean, I do love him. We been together for years.”
“And time builds love, right?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
He shifted on the seat, rubbing his knee slowly, eyes never leaving mine.
“So, what does he do for a living?”
“Stock trading, DJing at parties, along with some other things.”
“Sounds like he dips and dabbles in a lot of shit to avoid settling into one lane. Am I right?”
“Sort of. He is honestly just good at a lot of things, too.”
I took up for Josiah even when I didn’t mean to.
“So, what do you do for a living. Does he take care of you?”
I hesitated, then decided the truth felt easier than telling him another lie.
“I dance.”
“Dance?”
“Yeah, on a pole on the weekends. That’s how I make extra money.”
“Damn. I should’ve known.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing offensive. You have a banging ass body, and you use it to get money. I respect it. Shit, I know I’d pay whatever to see you work a pole.”
His eyes dropped, slow and deliberate, dragging over me like touch without contact.
“Is that right, Proctor? You think I’m worth your money.”
“Hell yeah I do. A lot of it.” He dragged his finger up my thigh, making chills follow it.
“You know, I have a pole in my bedroom. I got it installed about a year ago when I decided I hated strip clubs and loved strippers.”
I grinned at him.
“What do you think about that?”
“I don’t think anything about a stripper pole if money isn’t being thrown around it.”
“Oh, there will be plenty of money thrown. But actually, that depends on how good you are on that mutha fucka.”
“Oh, I’m damn good, Proctor. I do showcases on Saturdays.”
“Showcases? So, you're the star of the show?” He smiled wider.
“Now you really making me wanna open the safe for your sexy ass.”
The word safe sent a thrill straight through me, and I hated how much I liked it.
“Good, because I’m not dancing for free,” I said carefully.
“I wouldn’t want you to. I pay for the services I get.”
“Then show me where the pole is,” I replied, and he leaned up in his seat.
“It’s in my room. We can go back there if you're really serious.”
“Oh, I’m serious.”
“Then I’ll make it all worthwhile, baby girl.
He reached out and grabbed my arm, pulling me close enough for me to feel his heat.
“I really hate you getting married,” he said quietly. “You the type of woman that I show what real men feel like.”
Proctor got up from the couch, and just from his words and the grip he had around my arm, I got chills.
I followed Proctor into the room, then went straight into the restroom to freshen up.
“Proctor!” I called out, voice echoing against the marble.
“Where are the towels? I want to take a shower real fast.”
“Under the cabinet, to the right of the sink.”
“Okay,” I called back.
The bathroom was world-class. Spacious, clean, everything polished and intentional.
Tonight, I didn’t have any of my dancing gear or my heels, but I figured a towel wrapped around my body and the shoes I wore to the club would be sexy enough.
After all, it’s called stripping for a reason, and eventually, I would be completely naked anyway.
Let's just hope that I can control myself and it stays at just a dance and not him showing me if he has it like his son.