Cameron 4 Page 5

  “We’ve been messing with each other for three months,” Lana said. “How do I not know you?”

  “Just ‘cuz I stick my dick in you from time to time don’t mean you know me,” Tank corrected her. “You really don’t know shit about me, ma. Straight up.” He had so many dark secrets that skeletons were falling out of his closet.

  No one but his brother Aso knew Tank was on the run from the law. Two years ago he had shot Silk in the parking lot of Pandora’s Box and left him to die. Those days—and his old stripping job—were behind him now. He kept a low profile for the most part and earned a living as a contract killer. Niggas paid him handsomely to handle their “problems”, and he did just that without remorse. Ever since Tank had shot Silk, he knew that he could pull the trigger on another motherfucker if he had to. And for twenty racks he ran up blasting without so much as a second thought.

  Work orders were far and few, but Tank continued to save up his paper. He had plans to move out the country and start over.

  Lana walked past him towards the shower. “You know I’d leave Aso the minute you tell me you’re ready—”

  “I’ll never be ready,” Tank rudely cut her off. “And even if I was I’d never settle for a bitch who’ll fuck my brotha. Fuck? You think I’d ever trust a hoe like that?”

  Lana ran up to Tank and began throwing weak punches at his back. He quickly turned around and grabbed her little ass up before tossing her onto the rickety motel bed. That type of violent interaction was normal for them.

  “Fuck you, nigga!” Lana spat.

  Tank climbed on top of her. “Shut the fuck up and open dem legs, bitch.”

  Lana promptly did as she was told. Their love-hate relationship had her addicted. Tank was like a drug. She knew she shouldn’t have been fucking with him, but he made her feel so damn good.

  8

  Nigga, I ain't worried 'bout nothin'…

  Nigga, I ain't worried 'bout nothin'…

  Ridin' round with that work, strapped up with that Nina…got to…

  Bad bitches with me, molly and Aquafina…

  Money don't mean nothing, niggas don't feel you when they see you…

  My whole 'hood love me, but na’an nigga wanna touch me…

  Persuasion was way more live than any of the strip clubs in Cleveland, and the dancers were ten times as bad. Cameron felt like she was in her old stomping grounds as she followed Rumor through the huge gentlemen’s club. There had to have been at least sixty girls on the roster, and there were four dancers on stage at one time. Ordinarily, there was only one dancer at a time when Cameron danced…but she could adjust to a new routine without a problem.

  It wasn’t even midnight yet and the place was already popping. Some of the baddest women on the planet were employed at Persuasion. Fake tits and silicon-injected asses were on full display like trophy cases. The competition was definitely steep in ATL.

  Rumor led the way to the dressing room. “These hoes in here are like fucking carnivores,” she whispered to Cameron, looking around at the dancers. “Stay to yourself and make sure to work the floor.”

  “Girl, you ain’t telling me nothing I don’t already know. I do this shit,” Cameron said confidently.

  Her expertise was evident when she emerged from the dressing room twenty minutes later wearing a metallic purple two piece outfit decorated in rhinestones. The baby weight remained in her hips and ass so she looked twice as thick as she did when she first started stripping. A few new tattoos covered her cinnamon skin, and she was by far one of the sexiest females on the roster—even with all the competition.

  Instead of tackling the floor head on, Cameron stood outside the dressing room and took in her surroundings. Bills littered the floor, and strippers were tag-teaming the fellas with double dances.

  Cameron had promised herself that she was through with the stripper shit, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel like she was right at home being there. In a sense it felt like she belonged there.

  Rumor appeared alongside her wearing a red cutout one piece and black knee-high stripper heels. “You want one?” she asked, holding out her hand.

  Cameron frowned at the two small pills in the center of her palm. “Naw. I’m good.”

  Rumor casually hunched her shoulders. “More for me,” she said before tossing them back. She had to be high in order to perform. Rumor would never be able to be on stage in front of dozens of men half naked while sober. She preferred to dance on the clouds.

  “How long you been dancing here?” Cameron asked.

  “Four months,” Rumor answered. “I was at Pin Ups for a lil’ while until they had this big ass shoot out. One of the dancers got killed that night. That shit was crazy.”

  Hearing the story made Cameron think of X-Rated. That painful evening would forever remain etched in her memory.

  “I used to dance up at Magic City but it kinda got whack after a while,” Rumor continued. “So I came here…and Persuasion’s been treating me good ever since.”

  Cameron observed her environment. I’m happy I don’t see same the chicks I used to dance with, she thought to herself. The thought of no one personally knowing her or her past was refreshing. Cleveland was such a small ass city.

  “You don’t deal with none of these females?” Cameron asked her.

  Rumor sucked her teeth. “Look at these hoes. These aren’t the type of bitches I’m trying to be acquainted with. They’re so got damn clique-ish,” she said. “We’re gonna form our own clique on these hoes. Watch. Me and you…we’re going to be good friends. I can see it.” Rumor was confident in a friendship manifesting between her and Cameron. Since she was no longer dealing with her sister and boyfriend the thought of a new friend consoled her. “It’s not a coincidence you moved a few houses down from me.”

  Cameron thought about what she’d just said. She’d tried the whole “friend” thing several times and failed each time miserably.

  You don’t know these mothafuckas out here like that to be tryin’ to make friends, she could hear Jude saying in the back of her mind.

  “We’ll see,” Cameron said unenthusiastically before walking off.

  ***

  Tank and his partner Axel navigated their way through the busy gentlemen’s club in search of an empty table. They finally located one close to the stage. Preparing for some up close and personal action both men took a seat.

  Axel and Tank worked together. Standing at 6”6 and weighing a solid 250 lb. Axel was a very intimidating looking man with skin dark as coal. He didn’t speak much, and for his profession that was just fine.

  An attractive waitress wearing nothing but a black two-piece and mesh stockings placed a tray on their table. An ice bucket contained their bottle of choice. Several bands were stacked neatly on top of each other. They were ready for a long night of unadulterated entertainment.

  Now that Tank was no longer shaking his dick for a living it felt good to be the one being entertained.

  After popping the cork off their bottle the sexy waitress excused herself but not before collecting a fifty dollar tip.

  As soon as Tank got comfortable his cellphone vibrated twice in his pocket, indicating he had a text message. Pulling out his Droid, he scanned the text’s details. He had job to do that involved leaving the state.

  Tank’s client was paying twenty-five stacks to have his “issue” taken care of, and that didn’t include his flight and travel expenses. After the earnings were split evenly with Axel that left Tank with $12,500. Over ten racks just to put a bullet in a motherfucker’s head. If that wasn’t easy money Tank didn’t know what was.

  Tank replaced his cellphone and took a swig from his drink—he nearly choked on the contents after seeing Cameron on stage. He did an automatic double take because he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.

  They don't even see you like I do…First thing when you wake up…

  Before you put on your make up…And they don't really know you like I d
o…

  Cause with me you ain't the same…You ain't gotta run no game…

  Girl ‘cause what you do and what I do ain't different…

  We both on a mission…I love your ambition…

  Cameron rolled her hips to the mellow beat of August Alsina’s “Get Ya Money”. She looked even better than the last time he’d seen her. Damn, she thick and fine than a mothafucka, Tank thought to himself. He licked his thick lips, almost tasting Cameron on his tongue. They’d only had sex one time but the session was one to remember.

  At the time Cameron was beefing with her dude Silk. Their conflict had pushed her right into his arms—and ultimately his bed.

  Make that money girl it's yours…

  Spend that money girl it's yours…

  You work hard for all of it, it's yours…

  Work that body baby it's yours…

  I ain't judging you…

  There were two other dancers on stage with Cameron, but she was the only one who had Tank’s attention. As a matter of fact, every fella in the club’s attention seemed to be on her.

  Tank lit an L and watched Cameron put on a performance for the entire club. Several dancers stood off to the side with their arms folded, hating. They were wondering who and where the new girl had just come from.

  Tank grabbed two bands off the table and approached the stage. Cameron had just pulled off her top by the time he removed the rubber bands. Damn, she got her nipples pierced now. Tank’s mouth watered at the sight of her supple breasts. He could still remember the way they felt in his hands and mouth.

  ‘Cause I'm just out here doing what I gotta do…

  ‘Cause all these fuckin bills are due…

  And I see all this money to make…So girl you know that I ain't judging you…

  Tank tossed a flurry of bills in Cameron’s direction. The singles fluttered down all over the stage and floor.

  Cameron danced her way over towards the edge of the stage. When she kneeled down in front of Tank she nearly fainted after recognizing his face.

  “This must be fate, huh?” he asked with a smile.

  Cameron rolled her eyes, stood to her feet, and danced away from him. It seemed like no matter where she went she couldn’t get away from her past.

  Tank wasn’t the least bit offended by her gesture, and for the hell of it, he threw two hundred dollars at her just because. Tank patiently waited for Cameron’s performance to end, and when she stepped down he held his hand out for her.

  As expected, Cameron ignored his outstretched hand. Tank was like her menstrual cycle. He always popped up unannounced, and his presence was never welcome.

  “Damn. You just gon’ act stiff with a nigga, huh?” Tank asked.

  Cameron tried to act like she didn’t even see him. “You know the Feds are looking for you, right?” she asked, not bothering to stop.

  Tank grabbed her arm and pulled her towards him. “I ain’t worried ‘bout that shit. You got all my attention—you always had it,” he confessed. “I like ya lil’ cut by the way, bay.” Tank nodded towards her new hairstyle.

  Cameron was a little aggravated by that fact that he liked it and Jude didn’t. “Boy, whatever. I gotta go freshen up.” She pulled her arm away and headed to the dressing room. She was sure that wouldn’t be their last encounter.

  Tank chuckled and shook his head as he watched her walk off. Her colossal ass jiggled with each step she took. He loved how she played hard to get. That made the chase even more fun and worthwhile.

  Tank joined Axel at their table. Axel had a suspicious look on his face. “You know her?”

  Tank watched as Cameron disappeared inside of the dressing room. “I knew her,” was all he said.

  9

  Jude’s palms were drenched with sweat as he struggled to attach the sneaker tow truck to a silver Mercedes s550. He’d never done anything this intense in life, and on top of that he was doing the shit out in the opening.

  To any and everyone else, Jude looked like he was simply towing a car parked at a meter. His dreads were pulled back in a rubber band, and a snapback hung low over his face so that no one could make out his identity. Jude felt like a damn hoodlum as he attached a nylon tow strap to the luxury car.

  Aso and Vado sat parked across the street as they waited for Jude to finish the job. “This nigga actin’ like stealin’ a car is Trigonometry or some shit,” Aso said.

  Jude wiped the sweat out of his eyes while he struggled to concentrate.

  “Hey!” A stocky white guy jogged over towards Jude. “Hey, what the fuck are you doing, man?! This is my car!”

  “You parked illegally, man. No parking past eight,” Jude lied. “I’m gonna have to take it.”

  “Like hell you are,” the owner of the Mercedes argued. “I ran to the ATM for 5 minutes—”

  “And now ya car’s gettin’ towed. Tough luck, pal.” Jude was heartless, but money came before sympathy.

  The angry white man stepped to Jude like he was about to hit him. However, Jude didn’t give him a chance when he snatched out his 9mm and aimed it at the guy. Seeing the loaded weapon made him stop in his tracks immediately.

  “Don’t make this shit a murder, man,” Jude warned him with a steady aim. “Just back the fuck up off me—“

  Evidently, the owner was prepared to die over the fifty thousand dollar vehicle. Without hesitation, he knocked the gun out of Jude’s hand and charged him.

  Aso and Vado quickly hopped out the Maserati after witnessing the altercation. Instead of running up to help Jude out they wanted to see if he could hold his own first.

  Jude’s hat flew off his head after he was slammed against the tow truck. He was barely able to recuperate before a fist connected with his jaw.

  WHAM!

  Aso folded over with laughter as he watched the entire fight unfold. Vado smoked a cigarette while recording it on his cellphone.

  It wasn’t until Jude tasted blood that he finally saw red. After ducking an oncoming blow, he stole the enraged man directly in his face. Jude could feel the guy’s nose break underneath his fist but he didn’t stop there. Jude delivered several devastating punches to his chest and mid-section.

  “Hit that nigga with somethin’ nasty, cuz!” Aso cheered him on.

  Jude sent a powerful uppercut to the man’s chin that ended it all. The poor guy dropped onto the ground like a puppet after its strings were cut.

  Blood looked from the gash on Jude’s lower lip, but he didn’t feel the pain as he stood over his unconscious victim. His chest heaved up and down slowly. His fists were still clenched tightly, and covered in dark red blood.

  “I told yo’ ass to back the fuck up off me, nigga!” Jude yelled in anger. He didn’t even look like himself at the moment. He looked more like a deranged criminal than a loving fiancé and father. After tonight he would never be the same man.

  Aso and Vado sprinted over towards the scene.

  “Damn, cuz,” Aso said, examining the damage Jude had caused. Thanks to him the guy was now breathing through his mouth instead of his nose. “Come on! Let’s hurry up, get this whip, and get the fuck up outta here ‘fore somebody call the boys.”

  ***

  Hustle Gang’s “G.D.O.D.” played on maximum inside of the tow truck as Jude cruised along 77. The wind from the lowered window blew through his hair, and he’d never felt more exhilarated.

  Jude had been trying to play it safe for so long that he’d forgotten how good it felt to be bad for a change. He felt empowered with another man’s blood on his hands. He nodded his head to the erratic beat of the song.

  This is what life’s all about, Jude said to himself. Coming out on top.

  ***

  Cameron sat at the vanity in the dressing room while she counted her share of the tips. She didn’t particularly like that because she was used to keeping all the money. However, sharing a performance with two other dancers had forced to split the earnings evenly.

  Suddenly, Rumor appeared in the mirror
behind Cameron. Her chocolate breasts hung freely since she’d just finished giving a lap dance. She handed Cameron a glass filled with a clear liquid.

  Cameron gave the beverage a funny look. “What is it?” she asked. The last time she’d taken a drink from a stripper it had been laced with ecstasy.

  “Chill. It’s just Ciroc,” Rumor told her.

  Cam took the glass from her and tossed it back. She could definitely use a drink. Now that she was finally twenty-one she no longer had to sneak and drink. It seemed like just yesterday Pocahontas had snuck Cameron some Grey Goose disguised as a water bottle.

  “There’s somebody out there that wants to holla at you,” Rumor said.

  Cam shook her head. “I’m not stuttin’ Tank tonight, period.”

  Rumor laughed. “Well, I don’t know who and what the fuck a Tank is, but I guarantee this nigga will be well worth your time.”

  Cameron’s interest was instantly piqued. After touching up her makeup, she followed Rumor to the VIP area of the club. There were a bunch of fellas dressed in black standing around, drinking, and bopping their heads to the music.

  “Excuse me, excuse me,” Rumor said wiggling through the guys.

  Someone pinched Cameron’s ass cheek as she walked past, but it didn’t bother her because she knew that came with the territory. When they finally made it through the posse, Cameron saw what all the fuss was about.

  O’ Zone, an up and coming rapper, sat in a booth across from GGE’s CEO and producer, Zeus Carmichael.

  Cameron’s eyes widened in disbelief; this was her first time ever seeing real celebrities. Zeus’ $5000 diamond pinky ring glistened in the dimness of the strip club. He was even bigger than he looked on TV, standing at a massive 6”5 and weighing a solid 275 lb.

  O’ Zone was just as attractive as he was in the videos and magazines. His dreads fell to the middle of his back and the tips were colored a soft light brown. His chestnut skin was covered in body art, and there was a tattoo of a musical note near his right eye.