Chapter 13 Movin’ on Up
Movin’ on Up
OLD HABITS DIE HARD, AND IT TOOK A WHILE TO GET rid of Mark. I had to start devising a plan to separate—and he had no idea it was coming.
When I woke up from that postsurgery haze in the dark hole his family had stuck me in, I got my ass up and started looking for my own place. I wasn’t ever going to let anyone make me feel as low as I did lying in that room—and I fucking meant it.
I had just turned twenty and was working an escrow job doing title work, so I had enough money coming in for my own rent.
I found a house of my own, but it wasn’t far—just a block away from Mark’s mom’s house.
I’d never had my own place. I had always lived with other people and their families—or in my parents’ house in a room without a door.
But Mark decided he wasn’t giving up on me. Funny how men want you when you don’t want them. Stop chasing a man and he’ll start chasing you.
Unfortunately he followed me to the new place—and the man ended up moving in with me.
I know. But I was so run down—I had no energy to fight.
Everything was catching up with me: the years of abuse, the fallout from the heroin-laced Ecstasy trip, the medical trauma, the trying to make everyone around me happy.
But did I deal with any of my trauma then? Hell, no.
Mark and I continued to fuck and fight—shocking—for the next year, but by the time I was twenty-one, I’d had enough. I was burnt. Exhausted. Disconnected. We were practically living separate lives anyway.
Tasha and I had fallen out for a few years, but after I got my own place, we reconnected. She’d had a beautiful son named Aalijah, and she was doing the mom and dancer life all at once. One day, Tasha came with me to pick up one of my paychecks. She took one look at the total and freaked out.
“Bitch, that’s how much you made in two weeks? You could make that in one night at the club.”
I thought about my failed attempt at dancing from a couple years back—how I’d been so nervous I farted on a whole-ass bachelor party.
But I was working my tooter off trying to save up enough money to finally shake Mark off for good and move across town.
I wanted to get away from the Eastside of Vegas, away from all these fucking memories.
And I was done slumming it. I wanted a fancy life, the one with glimmering lights like the showgirls in Vegas. I wanted to wrap myself in beauty and glamour to insulate myself from the ugliness of my childhood and teen years.
I needed to make a shitload of money. Fuck it.
Tasha had a year of dancing under her belt and was already established at the Olympic Gardens, or OG’s, as we so lovingly called it.
I still have a picture of us out in the parking lot with our hair and makeup done like the Playboy models we aspired to be.
I had on massive fake eyelashes, the kind where if the wind blew, my eyes looked like butterfly wings flapping off my eyeballs.
Tasha was there to teach me how to ask for dances and get paid. I trusted her completely and knew she had my best interests in mind. And after an hour or so, I was ready to spread my wings and fly. I started moving through the club on my own, figuring out what I liked and what I didn’t.
I gave the stage a try, but it was definitely not my thing.
I’m always so mesmerized by the women who know how to do pole work.
It’s so beautiful and so elegant—which I am not.
And it didn’t make much financial sense either.
Why would I go onstage and make a few dollars when I could be in the VIP room and make a hundred?
If it don’t make dollars, it don’t make sense, baby.
I walked into that club so damn innocent with no idea how to act. I walked out with $2,000 in cash in my pocket. I was two grand closer to being able to get away from Mark once and for all.
* * *
I SWEAR, WHEN I’M GENUINELY over someone, it’s like the universe just sends someone right into my path to make sure I never go back.
I’d seen Bobby around Mark’s car club. He was hard to miss—a blond-haired, blue-eyed cutie.
He was an absolutely fucking adorable little baby boy, and the complete opposite of Mark.
I was dancing one night and looked up and saw sweet Bobby in the club lights with his best friend.
They were so fun and free-spirited. They were everything I needed.
He spent the night drinking with me until we were shit-faced—and when I told him Let’s take this party outside to your truck, he didn’t hesitate.
I’ve always loved being a seductress—it’s a kink to be an earthbound siren of sorts, I’d say.
I also love newness: new cars, new houses, new relationships.
It’s a habit I would later have to learn to break.
We fucked in the club parking lot, and I figured he’d be my dirty little secret until I could end the relationship for good with Mark. It felt so good to finally be a shady bitch behind Mark’s back after everything he had put me though. At that point, he’d slept with half of Vegas behind mine.
But I’ve never been good with secrets. Maybe fucking Bobby gave me the courage to really separate myself from that disaster of a relationship.
I knew I couldn’t live there anymore—I was just down the block from Mark’s mom, and his brothers, and, obviously, fuckin’ Mark was in the place that was supposed to be all mine.
Tasha and I had hatched a plan. We really wanted to get to Green Valley, so we applied for places.
We got approved for a McMansion. This was it!
This was my time to shine! I was beaming ear to ear when we got the call—I was finally independent and going after what I wanted.
But nothing would feel better than getting to watch Mark’s world crumble when I told him I was finally leaving him. Forever.
“I’m getting a place with Tasha. Keep the fucking house,” I said. “I’m done. I’m leaving you and I’m not coming back. And by the way, I’ve been fucking Bobby from your car club the past six months.”
I was free. I packed up my shit again and moved across town. I remember driving up to our new house knowing Mark was finally in my rearview mirror. I cried tears of happiness the whole way home. I finally felt like I was turning my life around.
I started really unpacking my new place in Green Valley—the nice side of town, far from the Eastside trash I’d come from.
We were moving on up. We were doing something with our lives—and you couldn’t tell me shit.
I was living in a part of town I’d only dreamed about growing up.
I had my best friend and her son in this huge house.
I was free. Life for the first time was—dare I say—happy.