Ladies Night (18 page)

The last few patrons were leaving Club Eden one night as Amp walked up to Madam. She'd been sitting alone at one of the tables.

“So how are you holding up?” Amp asked, pulling out a chair and joining her.

“I'm making it.” She sighed and then looked around the club. “I am glad I decided to fight for this place. At least that way, if I lose it—”

“Which you won't,” Amp interrupted. “Madam, you can't say stuff like that. You can't speak doubt and negativity and expect good things to happen.”

Madam didn't have a comeback because Amp was right. “I'm supposed to be the one teaching you guys about life.”

“You are.” Amp stood, resting a supportive hand on Madam's shoulder, and then walked over to the bar where the other dancers were gathered.

Amp crossed paths with Casanova, who walked over to Madam and handed her an envelope. Madam left to go into her office, and Casanova joined the others at the bar.

“I can't believe we sold all those calendars,” he said in disbelief. He and El Fuego had paired up and covered the Latin and suburban neighborhoods, while the others hit the hood to sell every last box of calendars.

“I can't believe you, of all people, sold the most,” El Fuego said.

“Church women are the freakiest,” Casanova replied, and they all shared a laugh. “Sorry, Lord,” he said, looking upward.

Dr. Feelgood, who had been walking around on cloud nine all night, walked behind the bar and poured everybody a shot. “All right, everybody grab one. Amp, yours is the juice.” He pushed Amp's glass toward him.

Amp nodded and smiled.

“I got some good news,” Dr. Feelgood said, holding up his glass. “The test came back today.”

Judging from his good mood, all the guys were expecting to hear a “not-guilty” verdict.

“He's mine. I'm officially a father.” He cracked a big smile, and everyone raised their glasses to congratulate him.

“Congratulations, man, but uh, we all kind of knew that already. You see the nose on that boy,” Amp said with a laugh.

Dr. Feelgood flinched.

“Aw, come on. I'm kidding, man. That's a handsome little guy you've got. Congrats. Way to man up and handle your business.”

Amp and Dr. Feelgood dapped then downed their drinks.

“So how's the mother taking it?” Babyface asked.

“Fine, actually,” Dr. Feelgood said. “She ain't pressing me to get back together. Just wants me there for my boy. We even figured out a new arrangement. I keep him on the three days that I don't work here. She has him the rest of the week, and I help her with anything she needs for him.”

“You're lucky,” Babyface said. “It isn't always that peaceful.”

“I know,” Dr. Feelgood replied.

Madam came out of her office and walked back over to the bar. All of the guys quieted down.

“I just really wanted to thank you guys,” Madam said. “The money from the extra shows you've been doing and from the calendars has made a nice dent in the amount I have to turn in on Monday. I didn't want to, but I sold one of my cars to help us get closer to the mark. The good news is, if we bring in twenty thousand in the auction tomorrow, we should have enough to keep the club open.”

Amp smiled on the outside, but he had a dilemma on the inside. He'd told himself that if need be, he'd dip into his own pockets to help save the club, but that was before he'd gotten used to the idea of having saved up about sixteen grand. That money was a guaranteed ticket toward starting over in life on a comfortable note. The more he had built his savings, the less he had even thought about getting into something illegal to make extra ends. Hopefully everything would work out as planned and the cash flow for Madam would come in, but he'd just have to cross that bridge when he got to it.

The guys looked relieved that Madam had come up with as much money as she had, but seeing the finish line wasn't the same as actually crossing it. Anything could happen in the meantime.

“So, I want you to get some rest tonight, and I want you suited and booted tomorrow. Auction starts at eight; be here by six. Sharp. Now get out of here.” Madam pointed to the exit and then went back into her office.

 

 

The next evening at six, they returned to the club with garment bags in hand. Madam had been there since early afternoon preparing for that night's auction.

“Come on in, guys,” Madam said, escorting them into the locker room with urgency. There was a well-dressed, dark-skinned gentleman waiting in there. “I know originally I had told you guys I just wanted you to wear your best suits. Well, you can hang them up over there.” She pointed toward the clothing rack. “There has been a slight change of plans. My friend David Frere, designer of Musika Frere, is going to get you guys dressed more appropriately for the evening.”

Having no idea what Madam had up her sleeve, the guys filed over to the rack, hung up their suits, and waited on David to do what he needed to do. Madam exited the locker room, leaving David to do his thing. David and his seamstress immediately began sizing them up, and the fitting process began.

After working his magic, the head of the two-man glam squad went to Madam's office and peeped his head in. “Madam Fox, can you come out here for a second?” David walked back to the stage area where the guys were waiting.

Madam walked out of her office and stopped in her tracks, admiring the sight before her. “Now that's what the hell I'm talking about,” she whooped.

The guys were all lined up shoulder to shoulder, wearing finely tailored traditional black tuxedos and bowties. Casanova looked like he could be the next James Bond, as his aura screamed sophistication. Dr. Feelgood looked like the black James Bond. El Fuego's tux fit incredibly well and complemented his Latin features. Babyface was on point. He looked like money, signifying what they hoped to bring in lots of tonight. Amp was now a far cry from door security. He looked so classic, like a young Denzel. Each dancer looked like a million bucks, and if everything went as planned, they would definitely make the big bucks. This was the last opportunity to save Club Eden . . . legally.

Amp noticed Dime walking into Club Eden carrying some of her equipment. She was making a beeline straight to her booth, until she looked toward the stage and had to do a double take. Keeping her eyes glued on the sight before her, she placed the equipment down on one of the tables in slow motion.

She walked over and stood next to Madam. “Damn . . .” she said, admiring the men in their tuxedos. One by one, Dime allowed her eyes to view each man as if she were trying to pick someone out of a police lineup.

“Girl, that's what I said,” Madam told her.

Dime walked past each dancer, eyeing him up and down. “All right then.”

Madam looked at her watch and then clapped her hands together. “Here we go. Oh, and fellas, you better grab a Red Bull or 5-hour ENERGY. If these women are spending a few grand on you for the evening, you might need it.”

Several groups of women had bought tables for the night's auction. The women at the table with the highest bid would have the pleasure of being entertained by the dancer they purchased for the remainder of the evening. The dancer, of course, could give dances, with the dances getting as sexy as the purchaser would like. He could give the women massages, or just talk and have drinks with them. He could give them the most amazing and personal VIP lap dance ever. The women could even choose to have him sit back while they gave him a dance—any kind they wanted, including a strip tease if they were bold enough.

Touching was not prohibited, by either party, as long as the women were down for it. That meant they could touch the dancer's body, rub oil on him, slap his ass, whatever money could buy. Almost anything was okay. The only rule was that there was absolutely no sex.

“These women are expecting the time of their lives,” Madam said. “Packed into four hours.”

The guys looked at each other with matching expressions:
Oh, shit.

A half hour later, the parking lot was packed and cars were still pulling in, some eventually having to park on the street as the lot reached capacity. Groups of women entered the building, excited and ready to party. Tonight they were going to get the opportunity that each one had hoped for every night: that she'd be the one to get all of a dancer's attention. Well, that fantasy would be fulfilled, if the price was right.

The crew Madam had hired to decorate the place had adorned each round table with a white linen tablecloth. There was a single rose in a vase on each table, and some loose rose petals scattered about. Each place setting had a wine glass as part of tonight's bottomless wine glass special. It was the servers' job to make sure they kept the all-you-can-drink wine flowing. An assortment of crab cakes, wings, calamari, and other starters was on each table as well. Each chair had a small circular fan with a number on it that the women could use for bidding.

There were several VIP tables, which had been purchased by a group of women who wanted to sit together. Those tables each had a large circular fan in the middle for the representative that would be bidding on behalf of the entire table. Use of that particular fan signified that the table was bidding collectively. In other words, these chicks meant business.

The lights in the room were dimmed, coupled with grown and sexy music. It made for a perfect atmosphere for all that was about to take place this evening.

Every person had paid twenty-five dollars to get in, and there were at least three hundred women packing Club Eden at ten to a table. The VIP tables to the front had been purchased for $500 each. The rest of the tables, which were just a little further back, were where the smaller groups or individuals sat.

The dancers were walking around, mingling in the crowd and buttering up the women to get them to go deep into their pockets. It was also a form of meet and greet, allowing the women to get an idea of exactly who they wanted to bid on.

Amp was getting his mingle on, but out of habit, he kept an eye on everything and everyone.

Madam was over at the bar talking to a few of the servers. She'd hired extra help to assist with the big night. The servers who were tending to the tables were all attractive men. Of course Madam had to give her clientele an appetizer before the main course was served, so each server was athletic, muscular, and just plain hot. They were wearing black slacks and bowties with no shirts. They were exactly what was needed to get the women all heated up before the bidding began.

“I see too many empty glasses out here.” She scanned the room. “Keep those glasses full and make sure everyone is having a great time, so they'll be ready to spend when it's time for the auction.”

The servers hurried back to work, and the wine began to flow. This made sense to Amp as well, so he grabbed a bottle and started pouring wine for some of the guests. The other dancers followed suit, and Madam nodded to Amp with approval.

The sound of laughter, good music, and great stories of what each woman desired from her man if she was the lucky bidder filled the air as the club reached capacity. The time for the auction was now approaching. Madam signaled for each dancer to make his way to the stage. With all of the men lined up shoulder to shoulder behind her, she stepped in front of the mic, ready to kick things off.

“Can I have everyone's attention, please?” Madam announced. “Before we start, I just want to remind everyone of the rules. Number one: the most money gets the guy. Two: you can have the gentleman you buy dance, rub your shoulders, massage your feet, play in your hair; whatever you, your dancer, and your group agree on. We also have party rooms in the back if your group wants a little privacy.”

There were several
ooh
s and
ahh
s from the crowd. A couple of women even high-fived one another, agreeing that that was indeed part of the plan.

“Three: when bidding, please use the circular number that is on your table. And lastly, cash only. If there are no questions, let's begin.”

The women applauded in excitement and anticipation.

The guys all went backstage, and the house lights were dimmed. A few seconds later, Casanova stepped out into the spotlight on the stage. A huge picture of a shirtless Casanova appeared on the screen that was set up behind him.

“I present to you,” Madam said from off to the side, “Casanova!”

The applause grew louder. Dime started the music.

“The bidding shall commence at one thousand dollars.”

Three different tables of women started bidding. The fans were flying up all over the place at those three tables. It was clear that the women had decided in advance who they just had to have. Some of them were truly pissed off when the bidding got too high for them to afford and they had to drop out.

“Sold for three thousand dollars!” Madam announced after the final bid was placed. She walked over to the table, collected the money, and signaled Casanova over to the table of overly excited women, the first winners of the night.

Casanova kept a smile on his face as walked over to the table, but under his breath he mumbled, “Jesus, take the wheel.”

Madam returned to the front of the room and introduced El Fuego as his picture appeared on the screen behind him. Dime started the music, and the excitement and bidding began between four different tables: two groups of Latino women, a group of white women, and a group of black women. The bidding went back and forth many times, the Latinas of all shades and builds bound and determined to show love for their own. Eventually one of the groups of Latino women prevailed, outbidding the other three tables.

“Sold for five thousand dollars!” Madam was more than pleased to announce. She was working that room, handling her business as she walked over to the table and collected the money. She signaled El Fuego to the table, where he gladly went to spend the evening with his native sisters.

Madam returned to the front of the room and introduced Babyface. His shirtless and sexy picture popped up on the big screen, and the bidding began. One woman sat alone at a table in the back, and she was determined not to lose. She was rocking a fly black hat with a mean lean to it, her hair slicked back in a ponytail, and she was wearing dark Dior shades. She never put her bidding fan down, outbidding everyone after several rounds back and forth.

“Sold for seven thousand dollars!” Madam announced, making her way over to the table to collect. Madam signaled for Babyface to follow her. The woman who had been doing the bidding set the bundle of money on the table and took off her sunglasses.

Babyface's mouth dropped when the woman's face was revealed. It was Valerie, the woman who had destroyed his car in the parking lot. Madam looked stunned, but Babyface, on the other hand, was pleasantly surprised.

“They can't have my man,” Valerie said pointedly. She stood up, picked up the money from the table, and put it in Madam's hand. “And you've got some making up to do,” Valerie said to Babyface.

Babyface stepped around Madam to Valerie, put his hand around the back of her neck, paused for a second, and then pulled her in for a kiss.

Madam walked back to the front of the room with a smile. Babyface could deal with Valerie if he wanted to. She'd paid for him, so now he was all hers anyway.

Next Madam introduced Dr. Feelgood, and he stepped out into the spotlight. Women could be heard tallying how much money they had in their groups. This time the bidding began between five tables, and it went on for a while. When it seemed like the bidding was slowing down, Dr. Feelgood started to undo his belt a little, and the bidding became feverish again. Eventually, one group of women placed a bid that no one could beat.

“Sold for ten thousand dollars!” Madam was beside herself. She walked over to collect the money, and then he went to greet his high-rolling fans.

Madam headed back to the front of the room. “Last but not least,” she announced, “Black Magic!”

Amp walked out into the spotlight, and the energy started to build. There were five tables bidding on Amp. It was serious now. He was the last dancer, so a lot was at stake with these women. Two of the tables that hadn't won a bid yet didn't want to risk ending the night without a man, so they pushed their tables together and agreed to team up and pool their money together. They eventually outbid the other groups.

“Sold for fifteen thousand dollars.” Madam had done the math in her head and knew at that moment that they had more than enough money to pay the debt to keep Club Eden open.

She walked over to the table, collected and counted the money, then signaled to Amp to come to the table that had moments ago been two separate tables. Amp had his work cut out for him with all these women. He took a deep breath, then headed over to the table, drinking a 5-hour ENERGY on the way over. If Casanova wasn't already busy with a group of women himself, Amp might have asked him to pray for him. The way these women were eyeing Amp and licking their lips as he walked over to the table, it looked as though they were prepared to eat him alive.

Madam went to the front of the room and grabbed the microphone one last time. “All right, ladies. Enjoy your purchases.” She looked to Dime. “You know what to do.”

Dime faded out the grown and sexy music and let the strip club music fly. Immediately, the energy in the building doubled. Some of the guys started dancing for their groups, others started massaging the shoulders and feet of their purchasers. El Fuego was laid out across the table wearing only his thong while the group of women that won the bid ate fruit and chocolate off his body. All of this and the night was still young. No telling what was yet to come.