All That Drama (2 page)

A
s promised, Sammie was waiting for me when I arrived at Five Points. I was looking forward to unwinding over cocktails. Work had been a bitch that day. Thank God it was finally Friday.

Sammie waved at me as I approached. I grunted and said, “Come on, I need a good stiff drink.” Sammie turned and followed me as I stormed past her. I decided to try Fat Tuesday’s ’cause they usually had an awesome happy hour. I wanted to get drunk and see some cuties at the same time.

“Who the hell peed in your coffee?” she asked, attempting to match my pace.

“Girl, it was a day from hell. My mind just was not in it and I could not wait to get the hell up out of there.”

“Well excuse me, Ms. Morgan,” she huffed.

I stopped in my tracks and whirled around to face her. “Damn, I don’t even know your name and I’m going off on you.”

“I understand, girl; don’t sweat it. Let’s go get our drink on! My name, by the way, is Sammie, no ‘y,’ with an ‘i.e.,’ Sammie Davis and before you start with the jokes, let me just say that I am not ready to talk about that with you. Just call me Sammie and we will be okay.” She took the lead down the escalator as if she knew where we were going.

Shit, she shut my ass up. I was ready to ask a million questions when I heard her name.
Not wanting to risk a physical altercation, I quietly followed her. Working our way through the nine-to-fivers we entered Fat Tuesday’s and scooped up the first two seats we saw at the bar. We both ordered strawberry daiquiris.

Looking around, Sammie said, “This place is really nice. This is my first time here,” she continued. As I scanned the crowd, I noticed that there were not any black men in the growing crowd yet. Sammie must have read my mind and asked, “Don’t the brothers come here, too?”

“Yeah, but they don’t show up until after six.” I took a sip of my drink and glanced over at Sammie.

“Where are you from?” I asked.

“From all over really. My brother was born in North Carolina, my older sister was born in California, and I was born in Germany. I was a typical army brat living in a lot of houses but never having a real home to claim. Living wherever Uncle Sam sent us.”

“So what brought you to Georgia?”

“We moved to Atlanta after my dad retired from the military. This is my mother’s hometown. But I moved to California with my husband when I was eighteen.”

“You’re married?” I asked, shocked that she had married at such an early age.

“Yeah, something like that,” she answered, not bothering to elaborate any further on the details of her life to someone she barely knew.

“What about children? Do you have any?” I inquired.

“I have a boy and a girl but they have always lived with my mother here in Atlanta. I just got back from California about two months ago.”

“How long were you in California?”

“Ten years.”

“You left your children in Atlanta for ten years!” I exclaimed with a hint of judgment in my tone, not able to comprehend how a mother could be separated from her children, and by choice.

“Look, I was young, dumb and in love. It’s a long story and this is not the time or the place for it, okay?”

I threw my hands up. “Hey, no problem. Been there and done that.” I continued sipping on my drink and asked her if she wanted another round.

“Sure,” Sammie replied. “I know that you have kids or you wouldn’t have had on that maternity slip. How many kids do you have?” Sammie asked.

“I have two: Kevin who is four and Keira who just turned six last week.”

“What about a man?”

“Legally separated,” I exclaimed proudly.

“Legal or not, separated is separated in my book,” Sammie responded. “Were you born in Atlanta?”

“No, I’m originally from Baltimore.”

“So what brought you to Atlanta?”

“My dad passed away and I moved here to be closer to my mother.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. When did he die?”

“It’s been a few weeks but it still hurts. My father and I were very close.”

“My dad died also several months ago,” Sammie acknowledged plainly.

The bar started to get a little louder and the crowd began to swell.

“I need to make a potty run,” Sammie announced, sliding off the barstool. “Where is the bathroom?”

“In the back to the right,” I said, pointing in that direction. I watched Sammie move through the crowd and had no trouble following her progress since she was a bit taller than most of the patrons.

Sammie took her time coming back from the bathroom and I was already on my third drink.

“Damn, girl, you ain’t wasting no time, are you?” she said as she eyed the fresh drink that was sitting before me alongside the two empty glasses.

“If you had a day like I had, you would be drinking like a fish, too,” I answered back defensively.

“What do you do?” she asked.

“I’m a paralegal with White, Miller & Stevens.”

“Go on with your bad self,” Sammie replied, finishing up her second drink and signaling to the bartender that she was ready for another. I chose that moment to go to the bathroom myself. When I got back to my seat, Sammie was deep in conversation with a guy whose head only came to her chest. She quickly finished her conversation as I inched onto the stool. As I did, I noticed her put something down her bra. She did not say anything about her new friend and he promptly left as if dismissed on cue.

“Now, where were we?” I asked.

“You were telling me about your job,” she said.

“Oh, right. What about you, what do you do?” I inquired.

“I am a jack of all trades. Right now I’m temping at Equifax. I really don’t like those boring ass desk jobs but I needed something. We are staying with my mother right now and it ain’t working out too good.”

“I know exactly what you mean. When I first got here I stayed with my mother. Mom and I were cool but I was used to having my own space.”

“I know that’s right!” Sammie responded.

I stole a glance at my watch and realized that it was getting late. “Girl, I am really going to have to cut this night short. My mother is watching my kids and I am sure she is ready for them to go home. I need to stay in her good graces especially since she keeps the kids for me while I work.”

We paid our check and were headed to the door when another guy grabbed her around the waist.

“Take care, Sammie. I will talk to you soon,” he said. Sammie just smiled at him. For someone that was “married” and new in town, I noticed that Sammie sure attracted a lot of male attention. But this was just the beginning.

S
ammie married the first man that asked. At the tender age of eighteen, he took her from her parents’ house and moved her halfway across the country to California. His name was Jessie Alexander and he was six years her senior. Jessie took Sammie to California because he wanted to mold her into a super-model. She stood at 6′2” and her beauty was unequaled. She looked like an Egyptian Queen and her movements were as sleek as a jaguar’s. Jessie loved showing her off. His aspirations for her were motivated by his greed for money. Jessie was a hair designer by trade so Sammie was like a giant black Barbie doll to him. He did her hair, her makeup and even chose her clothes. He also scheduled numerous appointments with various modeling agencies trying to break into the fashion industry.

Despite his best efforts, Sammie never received those high-paying jobs mostly because her heart wasn’t into modeling. She just went through the motions to keep Jessie happy.

Jessie was a pretty boy. He had light green eyes and clear caramel-colored skin. His eyes were slightly slanted and he had very long eyelashes to which he secretly applied mascara. His hair was longer than that of most women, and he wore it either in a bob or a ponytail. He was conceited, arrogant and egotistical. He was unaffected by the looks he received from his daring hairstyles. Most people thought that he was gay because he was a hairdresser and because of the way that he carried himself. He stood about 6′2” and was rail thin, weighing perhaps 155 pounds soaking wet.

Jessie was frustrated that Sammie was not making the money that he believed she could make. He had invested a small fortune building up her portfolio on one hand and exploiting her on the other.

During the day Jessie promoted her beauty and at night he exploited her body. On her twenty-first birthday, Jessie found a small strip club in a remote section of town that catered to an unsavory clientele.

“Jessie, why are we celebrating my birthday here?” Sammie inquired, not quite comfortable with all the women in various stages of undress.

“Uh, I just thought it would be different, that’s all,” he mumbled in response.

Sammie tried her best not to look at the women but everywhere she looked all she saw were tits and ass. A waitress came within shouting distance and Sammie stopped her.

“May I have a gin and tonic, please?” Sammie ordered, while looking at Jessie for approval. Not that she really needed his approval to have a drink; she just needed to know if they could afford it. Jessie nodded his consent.

“Look at her,” he said, pointing to a lightskinned woman on the stage. She had bent over at the waist and was sucking her own pussy. She alternated between fondling her breast and sucking herself, which was driving the men wild.

Sammie glanced in her direction and quickly averted her eyes.

“What about her?” she inquired, studying the tablecloth as if seeking answers to life’s most difficult questions.

“She can’t hold a candle to you, baby,” he said. Sammie fully looked up at him for the first time since entering the bar. He called her “baby” and it had been some time since he had done that. She looked to the stage to see if she could see what Jessie had seen.

“Look, she can’t even move like you. She looks all stiff and unnatural!” he said. The waitress placed Sammie’s drink on the table and she quickly drained the glass. She signaled for another refill. Jessie did not even notice that the waitress had been there since his eyes were glued to the stage and it had his full attention.

Jessie held up a bill and the woman on the stage came over to the table. She did a special little dance in front of Jessie and Sammie turned red. She could not stand to watch the woman but it was even worse watching Jessie as he slobbered all over himself. He tucked the bill in the front of her g-string and the woman went back to center stage. He turned his attention back to Sammie with a w
hat do you think
look in his eyes, obviously expecting a response from her without asking.

“She’s all right,” Sammie said, not knowing what else to say to describe the other woman.

“She could learn a lot from you,” Jessie said.

“Is that a compliment?” Sammie asked, not sure how to take his remark.

“Yeah, if you don’t know nothing else, you sure know how to shake that ass,” Jessie said, eyeing her midsection.

She no longer felt like she was being complimented. Jessie continued to ignore her for the rest of the night.

Over the next few months, Jessie continued to take Sammie to the strip clubs at least three nights a week. He never told her their destination until they pulled up in front of the dimly lit bars. Sammie eventually learned to tolerate it. However, she still felt uncomfortable openly staring at the women. She tried to imagine them with clothes in a fashion show but could not get past the tits and ass on display.

One night they arrived at Paradise. The club was real crowded when they got there but a table had been reserved for them in the front row, close enough to the stage for Jessie to get his hands on any of the dancers if he wanted to and did. Sammie saw the same dancer that she had seen the first night Jessie had brought her to the club. She was talking with the manager. They were both looking in her direction and she began to sense an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach again. Sammie knew the woman’s first name was Kim but that was the extent of her knowledge.

She looked over at Jessie and he had a shit-eating grin plastered on his face that usually meant he was up to no good.

“I want you to do this for me,” he said. His voice was gentle but it had an underlying tone that said,
if you don’t, bitch, there will be hell to pay
.

“Do what?” Sammie asked, leaning closer so she did not misunderstand or misinterpret what he was saying. She also wanted to get out of the eyesight of Kim and the manager. The hair at the back of her neck began to stand up as she noticed the maniacal look in Jessie’s eyes.

“You know damn well what,” he snapped. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know why I have been bringing your ass here. You’re not that stupid,” he jeered.

His evil side surfaced and Sammie swallowed a knot of fear that formed in her throat and threatened to close off her airway. She knew what he wanted but she was unwilling to give it to him.

“Please, Jessie, not that,” she pleaded.

“Shut up! You’re sniveling,” he shouted back. “We need the money, plain and simple.”

“But we can make it some other way. I’ll get a full-time job,” she declared.

“Doing what? Your dumb ass didn’t finish high school! You ain’t making shit with those modeling gigs I managed to get you either,” he announced.

“Jessie, I have never done this type of stuff before. I can’t,” she said as tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. Just then Sammie noticed Kim making her way to their table.

“Bitch, you better not embarrass me in front of Kim. You’re going to dance and you better make it good,” he growled at Sammie, slamming his hand against the table to emphasize his point. The force of the blow caused Sammie to jump.

“Are you ready for the spotlight?” Kim asked, grabbing Sammie’s hands and propelling her out of her seat. She winked at Jessie as he patted her on her partially clad behind.

“What the fuck?” Sammie interjected, looking to Jessie for understanding of what was expected of her. What she was getting loud and clear was that Kim and Jessie had developed some kind of relationship.

“I, uh,” Sammie stuttered still confused.

“Don’t be shy, girl,” Kim said. “We all acted like this the first time. Jessie tells me you’re a natural and born for the stage! For tonight, you can borrow some of my things but after that, you will be expected to bring your own.” She turned and pushed Sammie towards the door. One final look at Jessie’s stern face told Sammie that she had no choice in this matter. He did not smile as she walked away. His face was frozen like a block of ice, wearing a menacing sneer that was meant solely for her.

Kim led Sammie into the back dressing room. She cried inwardly. She knew she had little to no choice in this matter if she didn’t want to receive an ass whipping from Jessie when she got home. It was evident that he had arranged this before they arrived at the club.

“Don’t worry, honey,” Kim said, trying to console her. “The first time is always the worst. Just pretend that you are home alone with Jessie and no one else is in the room. He told me how hot you make him when you dance for him,” Kim went on.

“Jessie told you that?” Sammie asked in a state of shock. First of all, she had not danced for him since they first moved to California and second, now days he acted bored. She wanted to ask her just how well she knew Jessie but thought better of it.

“You have a great manager,” she said with a broad grin. “I wish I had someone like him to look after me.”

“Manager?” Sammie choked. “Is that what he told you he was to me?” Sammie asked, unable to contain the fire she felt upon hearing her own husband refer to himself as only her manager.

“Yeah, sugar. Count yourself lucky,” she said with the utmost sincerity. “Some of us are not blessed with good management.”

If she only knew,
Sammie thought to herself. She wanted to correct Kim on the true nature of their relationship but she was not ready for the big beat-down that would ultimately follow if she did.