worked for this shit! Now raise up out my face and let me enjoy myself!!"
69 cut her eyes at me and stormed away.
I shrugged my shoulders in a way that said: "Oh well, what can I say?"
After the song ended, Tony brought me a black trash bag, and helped me collect my money. These hating ass hoes didn't even have the courtesy to help me pick my money up off the floor. I wasn't mad though. I did what I came to do.
John was following me around like a puppy dog after I got off stage and I had to tell him to give me a few minutes so I could clean myself up. After working the stage a bitch was sweaty as hell. I needed a second shower.
"Hey, Taboo?" Chyna asked stopping me before I could go up the flight of stairs that led to the dressing room.
"What's up?"
"You seen Luther around this motherfucker?" she had this apprehensive look in her eyes. I knew something was up with this bitch. Luther was a hood nigga that came in here occasionally to "pay for play."
"Naw, why? What's up?" I asked wiping away the beads of sweat on my forehead.
She looked around nervously. "The motherfucker paid me three G's to go home with him last night and I stiffed his ass. I ran out the back door," she explained. "Its too many niggas up in here to keep my eye on him and I was wondering if you could look out for him with me."
I shook my head and sucked my teeth. "Chyna your ass has to stop doing that shit," I told her. "This is nigga's money you playing with. You can't keep playing niggas like that, bitch, or that shit is gonna catch up with your ass"--
"I know, I know," she pleaded hopping from one heel to the other. "After last night I won't do the shit no more. I just don't want the nigga trying to run up on me and check me in front of everybody." She grinned. "Shit, you know I got a reputation in this motherfucker to uphold."
I laughed. "Alright, girl. I got you."
"Okay, I'm about to go up on the stage. Good looking."
Me and my trash bag headed upstairs to the dressing room. Several dancers were lounging around, talking on their cell phones, or smoking. I didn't know how these hoes could just sit around when there was so much money to be made downstairs. Some bitches just didn't have the hustle in them.
I didn't bother counting all the money I had made on stage. I simply straightened out the crinkled bills and stuffed them into two zip lock bags before locking them in my designated locker.
As I was freshening up, I noticed 69 looking at me enviously through the mirror. The bitch was obviously mad her trick was all up on me. But what was I supposed to do? Turn him and his money away. I wanted to tell the bitch to stop being mad and get over it, but she spoke before I could.
"Bitch, you knew John was mine, hoe!"
I turned around and looked at her like she'd lost her damn mind. I didn't know why women blamed their own insecurities on other women.
"Bitch, he may be yours, but like he said downstairs his money is his! What you thought, I was gonna turn down some money. Hoe, you got me fucked up," I said nonchalantly. I didn't have to get loud to make my point.
69 jumped her tall ass out her seat and quickly approached me. "Bitch, I don't step on none of ya'll hoes toes up in this motherfucker when it come to making money!"
I fingered through my wavy hair as I ignored her. My curls had fallen but the style was still cute.
"Bitch, you hear me!" she yelled, mugging me upside my head.
She mugged me so hard that I toppled over in my six inch heels and landed on the carpeted dressing room's floor. Had I fell the wrong way I might have twisted my damn ankle.
"Oh, hell no," I seethed quickly snatching my clear heels off.
69 wasted no time as she posted up. "What you wanna do, hoe?"
I grabbed her by her short bob cut and dragged her tall ass around the dressing room. Surprisingly, the bitch was strong. She had me beat as far as weight and height, but she couldn't throw hands. As expected she was all talk and no brawl.
I slammed her against a