Real Wifeys by Meesha Mink

Author:Meesha Mink
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Touchstone
Published: 2011-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

By the time Rick got out of bed that morning, I was showered and back in my sweater-dress with my dirty lingerie in my bag. I was sitting in the living room of the suite flipping through the channels of the flat screen on the wall, not really watching it because my mind was occupied with more important shit.

I reached in my bag and pulled out my cell phone. “Oh, shit.”

A missed call from Yummy. “Damn.”

I called her back but her phone went straight to voice mail. “Yum-Yum! Whaddup, bitch? I ain’t heard from you in a minute since you moved but I’m glad you called me. So, yo, hit me up when you get this message and let’s go get something to eat or go shopping. You know how we do. I miss your crazy ass. A’ight then. Deuces.”

I ended the call and dropped the phone back into my purse, thinking of my friend I ain’t seen in almost a month.

“Goldie?” Rick called from the bedroom.

“I’m out here,” I called back, crossing my legs.

Naked, big dick swinging like a broken fucking tree limb, Rick strolled into the living room. “Damn, why you up so early?” he asked, stretching.

I didn’t let myself focus on the body or the dick. It was time to punch in, so to speak. Straight nine-to-five it. Business.

“Listen, I want to thank you for putting me on, but I think we need to peep the fact that I got the club bust wide open with dudes any night I perform. I mean, straight up, I’ve hopped in my car and rode through the set, you know what I’m sayin’, when I’m not working the numbers are not the same.”

He didn’t show shit on his face while I laid out nothing but straight facts. “So what’s your point? What are you after?”

I locked my eyes on his, stiffening my back because this nigga sounded annoyed. “I’m after what I deserve to receive. On the nights I perform I want a percentage of the door. We can negotiate the—”

“Can we talk about this later?”

I started to trip. I started to flip. I started to press the issue. But fuck it. I laid it out for him. The ball was in his court and if he took too long, then I had to do what the fuck I had to do. See, I wasn’t crazy, because whether he wanted to admit it or not, I knew I was bringing major money into the club and in this negotiation that gave me the power.

Period. Point-blank.

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