be.
The Golden Horse was my second destination, but after the owner explained that we—the dancer—had to sell a minimum of thirteen drinks or else we'd be stuck paying for them, I turned on my heel and left immediately. Stripping and tricking was already a tough enough job itself, there was no way in hell I was going to take on the responsibility of selling drinks too. It was already hard enough trying to get a motherfucker to come up off ten dollars for a lap dance let alone getting a nigga to buy you a drink.
With my options now limited, the only club left for me to try was Susy's Secret. It was located on West 130th and from the outside it appeared pretty classy. It was only 6:30 p.m. but the parking lot was already full to capacity.
After parking my Regal across the street at the bowling alley, I sauntered across the street to what very well may have been my new job.
The minute I entered the club, Pitbull ft NeYo's "Give Me Everything" was blaring loudly throughout the spacious club. Pop wasn't really my thing, but when it came down to it, I would shake my ass to whatever as long as I was getting paid.
There was a tall, slender white girl on stage popping her petite ass on the floor. I smiled to myself. "I will tear this motherfucker up," I arrogantly said to myself.
"Can I help you?" A white man asked as he approached me.
I immediately took in his appearance. His eyebrows were arched, he had one gold hoop earring in his left ear, and I would've been deaf to miss the unmistakable lisp in his tone.
"Yes. I'm here to audition," I told him.
He looked me up and down with a look of pure disgust which was never a look I received from most men...but then again what I had between my thighs was useless to him.
"I'm the manager. My name is Peter," he explained. "Do you have your outfit with you?" he asked.
I stepped out the way so he could see my roll away suitcase behind me.
"Follow me," he said before leading me towards a door to my left.
As soon as he opened the door, I quickly concluded that this was the dressing room. Dancers were seated in front mirrors primping and prepping themselves for today's fruitful endeavor.
"You've got fifteen minutes to get dressed and you'll be up. What's your name honey?"
"Taboo."
He quickly made a face at my response. "That's sort of ghetto. Honey, we'll have to work on that," he said before he departed.
I shook my head. This man was going to be a mess.
"Taboo?"
I quickly looked up only to be disappointed by the sight of Miss Behavin's tired ass.
I put on a phony smile. "Hey, girl."
"What you doing here?" she asked.
This hoe knew damn well why I was here. Obviously, the same reason she was. I just bet the bitch was fuming inside at the sight of me. Dancers hated competition, especially competition they knew could easily beat them.
"I'm here to audition," I said playfully. "I see you wasted no time in finding a new spot to call home."
Miss Behavin' looked at me through the reflection of the mirror as she flat ironed her cheap weave. "Girl, I had to find a new club after the GP closed down. The money can't stop flowing in."
I wanted to ask her what money, but instead I asked, "Are there anymore girls here from the GP?"
She