Chapter Twenty-five
I need a base that allows me to grow . . .
Within one week, I was well on my way to making Lala a star and the rest of girls, pin-ups. Less than twenty-four hours after Lala agreed to become my âheadliner,' I set up a photo shoot for her with Steph. At first, Lala was nervous, just as I had been. I teased her a bit, hoping to lighten the mood.
“Girl, am I going to have to throw you some dollar bills or what?” I teased, laughing. Lala frowned before she broke out into a smile. “Girl, you know you look good, so work it for the camera so we can get paid.”
During her shoot, I was almost giddy with excitement as Lala loosened up and began striking serious poses in front of the camera. Her body moved effortlessly into different positions. It was almost as if she was made for the lens and the stage. Even Steph had to admit that Lala had it going on.
“We're going to make a mint,” I exclaimed as we looked over some of the digital proofs after the photo shoot. “There aren't many chicks who can hold a candle to you,” I told Lala.
“I hope you're right,” Lala said doubtfully. “I mean, do you really think everything is going to work out?”
“I have to think so,” I replied. “I mean, if I don't, who will?”
Lala glared at me. “You know what I'm talking about.”
I did know what she was talking about. See, I had to put a business plan together. I outlined what I would do with Lala and with the other dancers in the club. I would make Lala a headliner. Of course, she would spend most of the time at the Doll House, but she would also take her routine on the road as La Hypnotic. I thought that was a good name because her eyes sometimes reminded me of the color of vodka, cognac, and fruit juices in Hpnotiq bottles. And for men, Lala's body was just as appealing. I didn't want any lawsuits, so I just used the regular spelling of hypnotic for Lala's stage name. She would be “ecstasy for the mind.” Not only did I have to figure out travel costs, but I found a clothes designer to make Lala some one-of-a-kind outfits.
For the rest of the ladies, I told them about the plan in the dancers' dressing room the next night. They would all do photo shoots. They would have to choose their best outfit. We would start by selling prints in the club, but my goal was to go nationwide.
I meant some resistance from the Dolls, who wanted in on the action too. A true hustler can't make everyone happy, but at least I could try. I decided to plan a group photo for the Dolls, something sexy just for the club.
“Plus, the dancers have to do more than we do,” I told Ginger and a couple of the other girls. “Not only do they have to show their asses, but they have VIP and other stuff we don't have to deal with.”
“And they make more cash,” Ginger countered.
“Right, they do, but I'll do my best to make everyone happy.”
Ginger knew I was telling the truth. The rest of the ladies fell in line.
The scariest part of my plan was convincing the owner of the Doll House, the infamous Dennis the Menace, to go along with my plan. I told all the ladies to keep their fucking mouths shut because if Dennis thought I was trying to undermine him and take money from him, he would put his foot in my ass. I had to convince him the deal was in his best interest, which meant I would have to give him a major cut of the profits in order to make it work. But I didn't mind sharing. I knew if I executed my plan well, I would be well-paid and happy.
Setting up the meeting with Dennis was the hardest thing. I had to wait until his right-hand man, B.L. came into the club. The only way I was going get to Dennis was through him. When B.L. did come, on a Friday to be exact, I made sure he was treated well before I approached him. I finally had a day off, but I came in just so I could get the chance to talk to him. I held my business plan in my hands.
When I was sure he was relaxed. I stepped to him. He had a permanent spot in both the public and private VIPs, but that day, he was public, sitting in the middle of his entourage of ballers like he ruled the world. B.L. was a large and imposing figure, but not unattractive. I knew I had to put my best foot forward in order to convince him.
“Excuse me, fellas,” I said smoothly as I stood before and his crew. “And ladies.” I said, glaring at all of the dancers sitting in the laps of various well-dressed men. “B.L., my name is Crystal Sells and Iâ”
“Don't you mean Silver Fox?” he asked. His voice was gruff and familiar.
Did I know him
?
I forced the nervousness back down my throat. “Ummm. That's just a name I picked up sometime ago and it kind of stuck here at the Doll House,” I said nervously.
“Yeah, right,” he responded, laughing. “I know your boy, RayKwon. He would talk about you sometime.” His dark eyes twinkled as he looked at me. “He used to come in here, you know?” I knew he was trying to bait me, and my expression didn't change. “I thought your blue-eyed girl would have told you.”
I couldn't let B.L. cut me down in front of everyone, but I still had to maintain an air of respect. “There's nothing wrong with looking,” I said calmly. “He was still coming home to this every night.” I ran my hand down my side. At least ten pairs of male eyes followed my hand.
B.L. laughed again. It was a deep, husky laugh, filled with the liquor he had consumed. “If you say so,” he said. “So, you coming to serve me or what?”
“No, actually . . .”
“So, what do you want?” I was coming to the conclusion that B.L. was a total asshole. But I didn't have time to hesitate.
“I would like to present a proposal to my boss and your friend,” I said, trying to force confidence in my voice as I handed my business plan to him.
B.L. took the bound pages and flipped them, but he was still staring at me. “And you think this is the time and place to do this, while you're supposed to be on the clock?”
“Actually, I wasn't supposed to come in tonight, but I did, hoping you'd be here. I have to make opportunity happen, I can't wait for it to happen to me.”
B.L. looked me up and down before rolling up my business plan in his hand and placing in by his side. “You've got some spunk, don't you, Silver? I'll look at it. Take care.”
I felt dismissed. B.L. just rolled up my life plan like it was a piece of old newspaper. I was so disappointed, but I couldn't let it show. Instead, I forced a smile. “Thank you for your time,” I said before turning and walking away.
As I walked back into the main part of the club, I eyed a group of well-dressed guys entering the club. One of them was dressed in white, and his friends were giving him a lot of attention. I could smell the money coming off the group and my heartbeat quickened. I almost wished I was on the clock, but I was never one to take another Doll's play. I rushed to the bar and sought out Ginger.
“Hey, girl, we got some rich ones here. I think it might be a bachelor's party.”
Ginger looked over my shoulders, looking left to right as she scanned the club. It was Friday, so the club was packed. “Where at, girl?” she yelled.
I pointed in the direction of the guys making their way toward a group of tables near the stage. One of the men, a tall, slender man with glasses, looked excited and scared at the same time. His friends had swarmed around him and were pointing and laughing.
“I'd bet real money that he's a bachelor having his last free night out,” I said in Ginger's direction. I smiled when I noticed that she was already making her way to the group.
I decided to head back to the dressing rooms to say good-bye to the ladies. I saw the Dolls first. I teased them about my night off. I told them I would rest and relax while they were working half the night, to which Janice, one of the Dolls, responded, “But you still here now, right?”
“Good point,” I said before waving and walking out of the dressing room.
D Hittz, the Doll House's DJ, had turned up the volume on the music and the lights had dimmed even further by the time I returned to the main part of the club. I headed for the dancers' dressing room on the other side of the club so I could say good-bye to Lala. She was performing, and I wanted to let her know how everything went with B.L.
There were three dancers on the stage as I walked by: Passion, Luscious, and Raina. They were working it pretty hard and the guys were excited. The men began crowding the front, and I could barely move. A strong hand gripped my right arm. As I thought about what bouncer to call to take care of the guy putting his hands on me, I heard a familiar voice.
“Crystal, right?”
I felt a whole mixture of emotions, from embarrassment to excitement. A part of me wanted to turn around and a part of me wanted to run away. As it was, I was in the Doll House, there was no changing that. Better to be proud of it than to lower my head. I turned around and looked into the handsome face of Tristan Grant.
“I knew it was you!” he yelled. “I'd know that hair from anywhere.” I continued staring at him. “Cat got your tongue?” he asked.
“No,” I replied, but my answer was drowned out by the hoops and hollas of the men responding to dancers.
Tristan looked past me toward the stages. His eyes lingered for a bit before his gaze returned to my own.
He leaned over closer to my ear and asked, “You work here?”
I nodded and he rose looking back to the stage. Just then, I realized he thought I was one of the dancers. I tapped him on his chest and he leaned down again.
“I'm a server . . . what they call a Doll.” I said, pointing to one of the Dolls who was serving drinks to one of the few men left at a table. And since Tristan decided to call me out, I had a question of my own. “One thing I do know is that you don't work here, so what are
you
doing here?” I asked, smacking my lips.
He smiled, and I could make out a dimple I hadn't noticed the first time we met. “What if I told you I was here to bring aid to my boy as he gets dragged down the path to matrimony?”
I thought about the guy in the glasses. That had to be his friend. Just as I was about to answer, some drunk bumped into me and pushed me closer to Tristan. I stumbled and Tristan grabbed me, saving me from falling. Our bodies were so close and I felt a bolt of electricity flow through me. I immediately felt guilty.
“I've got to go,” I said, pulling away from him.
“What?” he yelled, tapping his left ear.
When he leaned closer I said, “I'm out of here. Have fun checking out the dancers.”
Unwanted heat was pulsing in my chest. I wanted to get out of the Doll House as quick as possible. I pushed past Tristan and the other guys and headed for the door. When I felt the summer air, I sucked in a deep breath.
“Hey, Crystal! Wait up!” I heard Tristan's voice behind me. Against my better judgment, I turned around and looked at him.
“You shouldn't have left the club. They'll charge you again to get back in.”
“That's okay,” Tristan said, puffing as he stopped in front of me. “You doing okay?”
“I'm fine, but I've got to go.” I gestured toward Foxy Baby. “I've got things to do.”
Tristan held up a hand. “Just wait a minute. Let me talk to you.”
I shifted my weight on my left and put a hand on my hip. “About what?”
“I know you're going to think this is crazy, but I've been thinking about you a lot lately.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah. I think it's more than a coincidence that I would see you here tonight.” Tristan looked back at the Doll-house. “Here, of all places.”
“This is Columbus. It's the biggest small town in the U.S. We were bound to see each other sometime,” I said nonchalantly as I moved toward my bike.
“Crys!” Anthony yelled out. I had become good friends with the massive bouncer in the two months I had worked at the club. “That nigga bothering you?”
Tristan frowned and turned around to respond, and I grabbed his forearm to stop him. “Please, don't get into it with him. He thinks I'm his little sis'”, I said before yelling out to Anthony, “I'm fine! Mind your business!” I laughed so he would know I was okay.
“You actually like working here?” Tristan asked.
“Hey, it's a job, and it pays more than you would think.”
“I would have never imagined you working at a place like this.”
Neither would I
, I thought. “It serves its purpose.”
“So, you still with your real estate man, or are you in the market for a new one?”
I cringed. Tristan must have noticed the change in my expression, but he immediately said, “I'm sorry, I didn't mean . . .”
“No need to apologize. Of course, I'm still with my man and it's all good.” I smiled even though my heart sank at the thought of Ray in prison while I was in the parking lot of a strip club talking to another man.