Page 4
Story: Juice
“Send her over?” He repeated.
“That’s what I said. Tell her to come holla at me.”
“Uh...” He hesitated and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s kind of against club rules for the girls to mingle with the patrons.”
“Well then what time she get off?”
“She uh...she kind of got a lil situation.”
Getting up from the couch I towered over his ass. “Nigga did I ask you that? The fuck.” I frowned. The way he was acting was like she was his and that nigga was old as fuck. Baby girl couldn’t be no more than twenty.
He tossed his hands up. “My bad, Juice. I’ll send her over.”
“Thought so.” Taking my place back on the couch I watched him turn and walk out of the section. I hoped the nigga kept his word and sent her over. Cause if he didn’t, I had no problems going to find her for myself.
“Fuck that was about?” Lucas asked.
“I asked him to do me a solid and the nigga talking ‘bout she got a situation.”
“Nigga yo ass stay starting some shit.”
“I ain’t start a muthafucking thing. I asked him one simple question that nigga the one acting like it’s a problem.” I didn’t appreciate him trying to speak for her. I understood the whole not mingling shit which is why I asked what time she got off.
If the nigga ain’t feel comfortable giving me that information he could’ve said that. I would’ve respected it and figured out another way to get at her. He said she was new and the last thing I was trying to do was cause an issue at her job. He threw me off with that ‘she got a situation’ shit like I asked him. That brief encounter had left my ass wanting to get to know her. Hopefully she didn’t have a situation, and if she did, I hoped she knew it was ‘bout to be a wrap on all of that.
nariah
. . .
Slouchingdown behind the bar I popped open my bottle of water and took a sip. For tonight to be my first time working on the weekend I had made more than what I anticipated. From the way the other girls kicked it I thought I would leave with a couple of hundred.
It was almost two in the morning and so far, I was up a few thousand. The club didn’t close for another two hours so if this was all I walked away with I would be content.
“How’s it going out there?” Shunta, the girl Chucky had stuck me with for the night asked.
Rising from the floor I sat on the stool with my back against the bar and yawned. “Good.”
“Tonight is a slow night, tomorrow will be better.” She smiled.
“Tonight, has been kind of good actually.”
“How much did you get from that section?”
“Like four hundred.” I lied. Shunta was cool and all, but I wasn’t a dummy by far. I was taught to never let your right hand know what your left hand was doing. It wasn’t her business what I had made.
“Cheap ass niggas.” She frowned. “I thought they would have tipped more than that.”
“It’s cool. I didn’t really do anything.”
“If you say so.” She laughed. “Still cheap as fuck.”
“Nariah.” The manager called out, scaring the shit out of me.
I hopped up from the stool so fast it ended up falling to the ground. Leaning to pick it up I asked. “Huh?”
“Section three wants to see you.”
“Me?” I asked for clarification.
“That’s what I said. Tell her to come holla at me.”
“Uh...” He hesitated and rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s kind of against club rules for the girls to mingle with the patrons.”
“Well then what time she get off?”
“She uh...she kind of got a lil situation.”
Getting up from the couch I towered over his ass. “Nigga did I ask you that? The fuck.” I frowned. The way he was acting was like she was his and that nigga was old as fuck. Baby girl couldn’t be no more than twenty.
He tossed his hands up. “My bad, Juice. I’ll send her over.”
“Thought so.” Taking my place back on the couch I watched him turn and walk out of the section. I hoped the nigga kept his word and sent her over. Cause if he didn’t, I had no problems going to find her for myself.
“Fuck that was about?” Lucas asked.
“I asked him to do me a solid and the nigga talking ‘bout she got a situation.”
“Nigga yo ass stay starting some shit.”
“I ain’t start a muthafucking thing. I asked him one simple question that nigga the one acting like it’s a problem.” I didn’t appreciate him trying to speak for her. I understood the whole not mingling shit which is why I asked what time she got off.
If the nigga ain’t feel comfortable giving me that information he could’ve said that. I would’ve respected it and figured out another way to get at her. He said she was new and the last thing I was trying to do was cause an issue at her job. He threw me off with that ‘she got a situation’ shit like I asked him. That brief encounter had left my ass wanting to get to know her. Hopefully she didn’t have a situation, and if she did, I hoped she knew it was ‘bout to be a wrap on all of that.
nariah
. . .
Slouchingdown behind the bar I popped open my bottle of water and took a sip. For tonight to be my first time working on the weekend I had made more than what I anticipated. From the way the other girls kicked it I thought I would leave with a couple of hundred.
It was almost two in the morning and so far, I was up a few thousand. The club didn’t close for another two hours so if this was all I walked away with I would be content.
“How’s it going out there?” Shunta, the girl Chucky had stuck me with for the night asked.
Rising from the floor I sat on the stool with my back against the bar and yawned. “Good.”
“Tonight is a slow night, tomorrow will be better.” She smiled.
“Tonight, has been kind of good actually.”
“How much did you get from that section?”
“Like four hundred.” I lied. Shunta was cool and all, but I wasn’t a dummy by far. I was taught to never let your right hand know what your left hand was doing. It wasn’t her business what I had made.
“Cheap ass niggas.” She frowned. “I thought they would have tipped more than that.”
“It’s cool. I didn’t really do anything.”
“If you say so.” She laughed. “Still cheap as fuck.”
“Nariah.” The manager called out, scaring the shit out of me.
I hopped up from the stool so fast it ended up falling to the ground. Leaning to pick it up I asked. “Huh?”
“Section three wants to see you.”
“Me?” I asked for clarification.
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