Ladies Night (7 page)

Amp heard the voice of reason, DJ Dime, chime in over the music. He still hadn't gotten a look at the woman behind the voice, but there was something about her sound that he liked.

“Any of you ladies feeling a little bit under the weather tonight?” DJ Dime asked. “Well, your healing is on the way. Let me introduce to you Dr. Feelgood, 'cause even if he's bad, it's gon' be good.”

The women roared, and dollars went flying everywhere. The tall and sexy, chiseled man who took the stage didn't even have to move one of his many muscles before the women were going into their purses. He had eyes that looked right into their lustful souls.

Amp and Madam went into the office, and even with the door closed, Amp could hear that things were cranking up out there. He might need to get started on the job ASAP.

 

 

The next morning, Amp was back in his room at the halfway house, standing in front of the open drawer at the top of his dresser. Once again, he was looking at the pictures he'd pulled out of the envelope he kept in there. He knew he had made a lot of strides since he left prison, but there was one great act he still had to accomplish: finding and facing Shannon Ellis. Looking at those photos gave him the motivation he needed to keep moving forward toward his goals.

Amp heard a knock at the door and quickly stuffed the pictures back into the drawer. “Come in,” he called out, turning around to realize that his door was cracked and Paul had probably already seen him staring at the photos. Either way, as Amp closed the drawer, Paul said nothing about it.

“I just finished talking to Mary,” Paul said, entering the room. “We did a Skype call so she could show me that the club was real, the setup and all that.” He'd told Amp he wanted to double-check the legitimacy of this Club Eden. Mr. Lam's corner store he'd been familiar with; Club Eden, not so much. “Not that I can't pop in and see for myself,” he warned. “It's a bar, so . . .”

Amp put his hand up to stop Paul. “I know what you're going to say about the alcohol.”

“I ain't saying shit. You already know.”

Amp let out a deep sigh. How much clearer did he have to make it that he wasn't thinking about putting any alcohol into his body? He would never again jeopardize someone else's life by being under the influence. Period.

He moved on to something else. “Did she tell you about the hours?”

“Yes. That means that if you're off at two-thirty, you can be back here by three. Walking, waiting on a taxi or a bus, it's a short distance. I cleared it with the board, but you must be in this house by three. No exceptions.”

Amp was getting used to Paul's repetitive communication style and knew by keeping his answers brief, he could help the conversation end. “Yes, sir.”

“I will be calling randomly. You better be there.”

“Okay,” Amp said, not even worried. He didn't know how many times he had to express that he wasn't going to mess this up. At this point he figured he could show Paul better than he could tell him.

“And you're still going to be responsible for any morning chores you have.”

“No problem.” Amp was determined to do whatever it took to get his life back in order, like it had been before he went to jail.

Before he messed it all up, Amp had been going to college part-time to study business. He had aspirations of owning and running his own barber shop one day. It wasn't going to be the average establishment. This one was going to be the next best thing to chilling in a bar. He'd have four chairs on each side, with accompanying custom mirrors. A couple of forty-two-inch televisions posted up on the walls would be playing ESPN. In the back, with a brown leather sectional and matching chairs, would be a 60-inch flat screen with surround sound for the Lakers games. Since L.A. was the only city that Amp had known, it was no surprise that he was a huge Lakers fan. He couldn't wait to have the best Lakers viewing parties at the shop while edging the guys up. He could hear the shit- talking and imagine the camaraderie—all good moments. The sadness of his past would be a fleeting memory.

He'd even have a bar, but he wouldn't sell alcohol, of course. Pre jail, Amp had been a bit of a drinker, but no more. The bar would be just for show. It would be placed about four feet from the stripper pole—now that wouldn't be for show. The décor would be real suave, an escape for the fellas.

Amp had been bound and determined to make it all a reality. In order to fund both his dream and his education, Amp was cutting hair on the side—that is, when he wasn't handling baggage at the airport full-time. It was a step above being a garbage man, but it was legal. Plus, Amp didn't mind putting in the hard work he knew it would take to see his dream manifested.

Half of his friends had illegal hustles going. Amp didn't want any part of that. He would still hang out and party with those cats, but that was it. Even so, it was the partying that got him off track. One night and one decision is what ultimately tore his life apart. The day he got locked up, his vision of becoming an entrepreneur began to evaporate, and his dream felt less possible day by day. Now he stood here at ground zero trying to resurrect it.

As if he sensed Amp's intentions, Paul said, “I got a safe here in the house if you want to start putting your money up. That way you don't have to worry about one of these knuckleheads stealing it.”

“Cool. Thanks.”

Paul walked out of the room, and Amp lay down on his bed, thinking of the future he was determined to reclaim. It was time to get his life back and make his dreams come true.

“You check the IDs. The girl at the counter will take their money and check their purses,” Madam explained to Amp as they stood outside at the club entrance. She always spoke with such passion and concern when it came to her business. Amp could see it in her face; her dedication to the club and her staff was undeniable. She had no children biologically, but this club was her baby indeed.

Amp had been told by one of the gossiping bartenders the story of how Madam started the club. About three years earlier, she was managing the hottest nightclub in town. She booked talent, celebrity hosts, and even came up with the idea to bring in male dancers to put on shows after regular club hours. It became known as the infamous Ladies Night. Madam recruited some of the hottest and most popular dancers from around the map. It didn't take long for the reputation of Ladies Night to spread across the map either.

The nightclub was making money by the box thanks to Madam's savvy ideas. The owner never fought Madam on her ideas and suggestions, because he knew she had the golden touch. Whatever she put into place always seemed to make sense—because it made money. The only problem was that the owner wasn't sharing the wealth. Greed got a hold of him to the point where Madam was barely even getting a cut from the money they made each week from Ladies Night, even though she was booking the talent and handling everything.

Eventually, Madam got fed up and quit the club, convincing the dancers to follow her. Unfortunately, she no longer had a roof for them to perform under. So, she took every dime she had and bought the building that was now the home of Club Eden. She was reaping the full benefits of her business ideas, which were a proven success. Ever since, Madam had been married to Club Eden, which left no time for relationships.

At one point in time, though, there'd been a man by the name of Marcus Clancy who had captured Madam's interest. She was dating him while she managed the other club. They were not quite in love at the time, but they were serious about each other. As Madam dedicated more and more time and committed more of herself to the success of the club, however, Marcus felt a distance growing between them.

It was no secret that Marcus had an issue with Madam being around male strippers with young, hard bodies every day. It wasn't that he couldn't trust Madam, he said; it was those half naked men he didn't trust. Being all about her business, however, Madam wasn't about to give it up just because Marcus was insecure.

Eventually the tension caused them to split up. The bartender said everyone at work knew she must have been hurting, but she hid her emotions, burying herself even deeper into her work. To this day, she had not had another relationship.

As she stood there instructing Amp on his new duties, he could see the fire burning in her. He could understand why her passion for her club left little room for anything else.

“Every fifteen minutes I want you to look inside and make sure everything is cool,” Madam continued. “And every half-hour, do a lap around this side of the building.” She pointed to her left. “Don't worry about the other side,” she said, nodding to her right.

“There's another side to this place?” Last night when Madam showed Amp around, she had introduced him to the staff and told him a little bit about what his duties would consist of. She hadn't shown him, nor mentioned anything about, another side to Club Eden.

“Yes, but that's not your concern.”

“Okay,” Amp said simply. He knew better than to press for details that she clearly didn't want to give up.

“Come see me at the end of each shift and I'll take care of your pay. Fifteen dollars an hour, as we discussed, and sometimes a little extra, depending on how good the night was. The more money this place makes, the happier I am. The happier I am, the nicer I am with giving out bonuses,” she explained.

Amp had no complaints about that, and he had no questions. All of Madam's instructions were pretty clear cut. He nodded in agreement, and Madam walked back into the building.

Over the course of the night, in doing his laps and casing out the place, Amp was amazed by the number of women he saw coming and going. Madam had herself one hell of a business here.

“Can I check your ID please?” Amp asked, stopping a woman and her two friends at the door.

“Damn!” the obviously bold one said, snapping her neck back and checking Amp out. “You can check whatever you want with your fine ass.” She pulled out her ID and handed it to Amp. “And that is a current address, just in case you were wondering.”

Her girlfriends laughed in the background as they pulled out their IDs.

Amp smiled politely but kept his mouth shut. If he learned anything in jail it was that the less attention he received, the better. If folks didn't even notice you were there, then they left you the hell alone. He had a job to do, and he didn't want to jeopardize his job by fraternizing with the customers. Better to smile and act like he didn't even notice she was flirting.

“Girl, get on out the way,” one of her friends said, bumping her aside as soon as Amp had checked her ID and handed it back to her.

Amp maintained his professional demeanor, checking everyone's IDs and moving them along. “Y'all enjoy yourselves, ladies.”

“Oh, we will,” the bold one hollered back at him as they went inside.

No sooner than that trio had made it inside the club, another pair of women walked up. Amp held out his hand.

The taller woman opened her purse to get a twenty, which she put in the palm of his hand.

“Oh no, ma'am. You pay inside,” Amp said, trying to give the money back to her.

“I know that. I'm a regular here. I know how it's done,” she said. “That's for you.” The woman kept a straight face as she reached down and closed Amp's fingers around the money.

So, this is what Madam meant about tips,
he thought.

As he checked the woman's ID, he could feel her eyes burning a hole through him. She ran her tongue across her top lip as she checked him out.

“You know, there is way more where that came from.” The woman nodded toward the door. “You should be in there on the stage.”

Amp looked down at his attire. He wasn't dressed anything like the guys on stage dressed. He was wearing a black V-neck with
SECURITY
in small white letters on the left side of his chest and in larger letters across his back. The shirt was fitted just enough to see the impression of his well-defined chest, shoulders, and arms pressing through. He had on the same pair of jeans that he'd worn to work at the store. Nothing special, yet these women were tripping over him.

“Thank you for the compliment, ma'am, but I'm right where I'm supposed to be,” Amp assured her with much certainty in his tone.

The thought that he could make a lot more money on stage remained in the back of Amp's mind—where it belonged. No way was he going to have the guys in the halfway house knowing he was taking it off for a living. Besides, he could only imagine what Paul would have to say about it.

She shrugged. “Oh, well. Can't blame a girl for trying.”

Amp quickly scanned her friend's ID and handed it back to her, and the women went inside to enjoy the night.

All night long women flirted with Amp, and a couple even tucked dollar bills down his shirt. By two o'clock in the morning, most of the patrons had left, but some were still trickling out here and there. When there didn't seem to be anyone else exiting, Amp walked inside the club to check things out. The place was nearly empty. That's when he realized it was already 2:30 a.m. He made a mental note to go to the mall and pick up a watch. Nothing fancy, just something to tell time, to make sure he made it back to the halfway house on time each night.

Amp looked up and saw Madam approaching him with the woman who'd slipped him the twenty spot, and her friend. Amp noticed the taller woman put her hand to her mouth and then lean in to whisper something in Madam's ear.

“Yes, this is Amp,” Madam confirmed as they stopped in front of him. Obviously the woman had been whispering about him. “He's the newest family member of Club Eden's security.” Madam looked to Amp. “Amp, this is Marla and Veronica.” She nodded to the taller lady first and then to her friend. “They're regulars here, so you'll probably be seeing a lot of them.”

Amp nodded his second greeting to these particular women for the night.

“And if I'm lucky,” Marla said, “perhaps we'll be seeing a lot of you too.”

“Down, girl,” Madam said to Marla, laughing. “Let me walk you ladies to your car.”

As they walked past, Madam lingered a couple steps behind and slipped Amp a wad of cash.

“Thank you,” Amp said. “See you tomorrow.”

She gave him a quick nod and then caught up to Marla and Veronica.

As Amp stood there counting his money, a sleek and sexy shadow in his peripheral vision caught his attention. He turned to get a better look. It was DJ Dime, standing in the semi-darkened room, packing up her equipment, and damn, she looked every bit as fine as she sounded.

He was enjoying the view when she looked up and caught him. Amp nodded to her, and she nodded back. For a second he thought about going over to talk to her, but then one of the dancers came in and started flirting with her, and Amp figured that was his cue to leave. Besides, it was getting late, and he didn't want to miss his curfew. He walked out the door with his night's pay in his pocket, making him feel like he was one step closer to his goals. That faint glimmer of hope in his eye was back.

 

 

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty, time to wake up.” Paul had invited himself in the room to discover Amp lying in bed, still in a deep sleep.

Amp thought he heard Paul's voice, but he couldn't get himself to move. All he wanted to do was sleep at least ten more minutes. Paul wasn't going to let that happen.

He shouted, “This ain't summer camp, Amp. Rise and shine!”

Amp shot up straight in the bed. “I'm up. I'm up.” He wiped his eyes and focused on Paul, who was looking rather serious this morning.

“Get up. You got chores to do, and you need to drop today,” Paul told him, lowering his voice, but not by much.

“Drug test this early?” Amp kicked the covers off and placed his feet on the floor. “Damn.”

“Yep, this early.” Paul set the sample cup on the nightstand.

Amp grabbed it and headed for the bathroom.

“Leave the door open,” Paul said.

Amp gave Paul the side-eye but did as he was told. A couple minutes later, he returned to the bedroom with urine sample in hand. He gave it to Paul.

“Happy?” Amp asked sarcastically.

“Look, I hate this just as much as you do. You think I want to be handling someone's bodily fluids first thing in the morning—or at all, for that matter? But it's got to be done.” Paul turned to leave, but not before throwing over his shoulder, “You have a sink full of dishes waiting on you. Handle that.”

“I'm on it.” Amp sighed, but there was no use in complaining. These were the consequences of past choices he'd made.

Amp headed into the bathroom to get himself together, having no idea of the drama that awaited him later in the day.