Get Money by Meesha Mink

Author:Meesha Mink [Mink, Meesha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Erotica, Adult, General, Contemporary, Inner Cities, African American Women, Newark (N.J.)
ISBN: 9781451640823
Publisher: Touchstone
Published: 2012-01-09T13:00:00+00:00

It took a while for me to realize that she didn’t want me and that everything we did onstage was an act. And we made money together. Slick Rick moved us to the night shift in no time, and the tips was damn good. Dudes was loving the combo of the thick white chick and the cute black girl. Ebony and Ivory. I can’t lie that plenty of alcohol and Ecstasy pills got me through pseudo-dyking with my friend onstage.

After a while, the stripping and partying caught up with me and my grades fell. I lost my scholarship and eventually fell out of school. Once my parents cut me off, I kept stripping, but then Erin got lost in a crazy meth addiction and quit. Then it was just me trying to keep going at it.

Humph. Slick Rick put my ass right back on day shift. I was used to Erin doing all the work, and the best I could do was these ass tricks that were good but not good enough to go up against freaky bitches who was selling pussy on the side. I wasn’t even fucking around with that tricking shit. I was selling fantasies, not ass.

“I made a pan of my peach cobbler, just for you,” my momma was saying as I came back to the present.

“Thanks, Ma,” I said.

“Harriet, I haven’t seen you in a while. You’re all grown up.”

I turned just as my parents’ next door neighbor Mr. Alvarez came down the steps. He was tall and thin, with more gray hair than I remembered since the last time I saw him years ago.

“Hi Victor,” my mother said with a friendly smile.

He reached out to squeeze my shoulder and I fought the urge to flinch or box his hands away. I couldn’t stand a touchy-feely person and his hands looked like crow’s feet.

“How’s Sophie?” I asked, even though I truly didn’t give a fuck.

His daughter, Sophie, and I were best friends growing up. We even planned to go to the same college, but once we were on campus, Sophie kept up the good-girl routine and my ass was living la vida loca. Eventually we were passing each other in the dorm hallways and barely spoke.

“Here she comes,” he said, sliding them skeleton-looking hands in the front pockets of his slacks as he looked over his shoulder at his front porch.

Sure enough, there was Sophie, closing the front door and coming down the steps in a navy blue pant suit and a pair of shoes I remembered seeing in Gucci last week. She didn’t look very different from the pretty, long-haired Latina girl that I used to think of as a sister. She still had that whole J.Lo thing going and walked like her shit didn’t stink.

“Suga,” her father called out to her by her nickname as she continued right on to a pale gold convertible Volvo parked on the street in front of her father’s house.

Like she didn’t see us standing there.

She threw her hand up and waved briefly before opening her car door.

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