Real Wifeys: Get Money (5 page)

“Those fake titties defying gravity like a motherfucker,” I said, cutting my eyes up to Michel, who towered over my five-foot-seven-inch frame with damn near four more inches.

“Yes, honey, and the show is even making me want to let my dick swing,”
he
said, his voice soft and effeminate—but Michel, aka Michael, was all man. He took drag to a whole ’nother level. We’d been friends since I moved into my first apartment, and he was the only person I let do my hair and makeup. Bootleg unlicensed stylist or not, Michel was self-taught
and
the shit . . . and he knew it.

We all laughed as he squatted his long and shapely legs as if his dick would miraculously slip from the tape securing it in the crack of his ass and make a shadow on the floor. Apart from his family and his lovers, we were the only ones who knew he wasn’t one hundred percent woman. He tucked his dick. That’s
his
business.

Michel was the perfect tranny for those brothas wanting to enjoy the tricks and treats of a man but wanting their lover deep undercover as a woman. He would’ve stumped the whole Maury audience on one of those “Man or Woman” shows. And the bitch had a gaydar that was out of this world.

He already assured me that Make$ was straight.
Yes, I asked.

Michel was also good for a teaching a bitch how to suck a dick proper. Fuck that. Who knew a dick better than a man?

Thanks to him and the afternoon we spent practicing with a dildo, I could make a nigga nut in a minute or less—one of the reasons I had Make$’s head gone from my brain game that first night.
Swallow it. Gargle it. Ow!

“Yo, Luscious, ain’t that your mother-in-law?” Eve asked, pointing over the rail toward the bar.

I looked down where she pointed and talk about being disappointed. I felt that shit all in my guts. Seeing Peaches in her five shades of red fucked my night up. Seeing the bartender sit a bottle of Patrón in front of her
really
wrecked my shit. One, Peaches couldn’t handle her liquor and two, I knew that shit went right on Make$’s tab . . . and the night was still early.

“Dayuuum. I see that bitch more than I see my own parents,” I said, drawing it out as I stomped my foot. No, I didn’t give a damn how childish that was.

Michel and Eve laughed at the expression on my face.

Wasn’t a damn thing funny about a future mother-in-law who was just fifteen years older than me but acted twenty years immature.

I just thanked God Peaches and her crew didn’t spot me in the club, because she would’ve lamped in VIP with us all night and invited them pigeons flocking behind her. Nothing.

“I guess the chick with her think she Nicki Minaj with that ratty-ass pink and blonde hairdo?” Eve asked.

Michel’s brow lifted. “Got that quick weave looking like a lost weave,” he said, lifting a hand to smooth his own shoulder-length auburn lace-front wig.

I couldn’t do or say shit
but
laugh.

Deciding to ignore Peaches, I turned and grabbed the bottle from the bucket of ice to refill our glasses. And we had a ball . . . especially when “Moment for Life” came on. It had dropped more than a year ago but that was my theme song in my head.

“
I wish that I could have this moment for life . . .
” we sang together, dancing around the VIP area.

As I closed my eyes, pressed one hand to my chest and raised the other to the ceiling, I thought about making it through my struggles . . .

My parents cutting me off when I dropped out of college . . .

Stripping to survive and pay my bills . . .

Not stripping good enough to get off that dead-ass day shift . . .

Struggling to afford to pay the rent on my shitty apartment . . .

Eating Oodles of Noodles and Dollar Store canned goods damn near three times a day . . . every
motherfucking
day . . .

Wearing the same jeans three times a week with different cheap-ass shirts because I put paying my bills before clothes shopping . . .

All the faces I done shook my ass in . . . all the sweaty hands on my body . . . all the funky breath in my face, and all the laps I grinded on . . .

The chance we took on our lives and our safety stripping in Goldie’s apartment right up until the night we were robbed at gunpoint . . .

But all of that was behind me. I made it.

“I wish that I could have this moment for life . . .”

Now, at this moment in time in my life, things were so different . . . so much better . . . not everything but most things. I was happy for that. I said the lyrics harder and sang the chorus louder.

Things were a little better between my parents and me.

No more stripping.

A better apartment and a better lifestyle.

More clothes and shoes and things than I could ever dream about.

Money to burn . . . and with Make$’s career blowing up, that meant even more money to burn.

Being in love.

And then maybe marriage and babies. My own family.

Shit, my life was good. I was blessed. I was thankful for all the good and just praying for the end of the not-so-good.

“Oh shit, Luscious, look. Oh my God!
Look
!” Eve screamed, gripping my arm like she had claws.

I opened my eyes and looked where Eve pointed just in time to see Peaches get backhanded across the face by a heavyset chick who looked like she was in less of a mood for Peaches’ bullshit than me.

“Let us pray, Lord Jesus,” Michel said, shaking his head. “This
ain’t
looking good.”

I knew some dumb shit would pop off.

I watched over the rim of my glass as the big girl yoked Peaches’ little petite ass up by her throat and shook her like a rag doll.
That’s gotta hurt.

Nicki Façade tried to jump on Big Girl’s back but just got shook off like a fly. Peaches’ other friend didn’t even fuck with it and disappeared into the crowd.

“She better sit her ass down before the last of them tracks get snatched,” Michel said.

The shit was funny but I knew he was serious as hell . . . and so was the big girl.

“Luscious,” Eve said, her tone all disapproving and shit.

“What?” I asked, making sure to sound extra blasé because I
really
didn’t give a fuck.

There was a crowd starting to circle the drama.

Big Girl drew back her arm and landed her fist dead in Peaches’ mouth. Blood squirted out like crazy while Peaches’ little body was lifted off her feet as she fell back into the crowd. Everybody in the circle leaned back with nasty frowns on their faces.

I released a breath that was maxed out with aggravation. Like I said, I knew something was gonna pop off, and I should’ve hauled ass when Eve first pointed Peaches out to me. I pushed my flute into Eve’s hand and stepped out of my shoes to kick over at her too. I was down the stairs and through the crowd in no time. I had to make myself ignore my pretty feet sticking to God knows what on the tiled floor.
Ugh!

Much as Peaches pissed me off, I couldn’t stand there and watch Make$’s mama get her ass beat—no matter how much she probably deserved it. Or how badly I wished it was me delivering the smackdown.

“Yo, Peaches, you all right?” I asked, squatting down beside where the crowd let her land on the floor. My stomach turned at the blood running down her chin.

“What the fuck you think?” she snapped before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

I barely heard her over the music. Peaches’ scuffle had barely made a blip on the radar of Club Infinity. Except for those in the immediate area, the party was still going strong.

Suddenly the neon lights flashing across Peaches’ face disappeared. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

“I ain’t scared of you, you Precious-looking bitch,” Peaches yelled over my shoulder, bloody spit landing against my skin as I helped her to her feet.

“Oh, you want some more?” a deep voice that was more masculine than Michel’s asked.

I felt like slapping Peaches my damn self. Instead I turned around and held my hands up.
This big bitch does look like Precious for real, though
, I thought, before I took a deep breath and swung, catching her off guard. Three quick punches. They landed between her eyes, sending her head back.

“Damn right, Luscious,” Peaches yelled from behind me.

I straight blocked
her
the fuck out and dashed around that big bitch to kick the back of her leg hard as hell before she got her shit together. She dropped to her knees and I pushed against her back with both my hands to knock her ass down the rest of the way.

A big bitch like that, about two hundred and seventy pounds? Shit, I
had
to fight dirty. Fuck the dumb shit.

Peaches started doing the dougie just as the house lights came on and the music faded away. Somebody had dropped the dime to management about the fight . . . and my ass was glad.
Shee-it!!

“Oh my God, she peed on herself,” someone hollered.

I looked down at the floor and sure enough a puddle of pee spread across the floor from between the big girl’s thighs.

My mouth fell open in shock as she jumped up to her feet and squared up in her own pee with her dukes up like she was really ready to straight whup my ass.
Oh shit!
My eyes got big as shit and I wished like hell I had Goldie’s taser, because I would shoot her one to her neck and drop her.

I could tell she was embarrassed by the fists to her dome
and
wetting her damn self.

I saw my damn studded shoe flying through the air. My heart ached as that motherfucker missed her and landed in the puddle. I looked up and Eve shrugged apologetically with just one shoe under her arm.

Oh hell no. Who wanted a pissy Louboutin?

She swung. I ducked.

I can’t even lie: I was glad when security came rushing over and got between us before she could really put in work on my ass.

I motioned to Michel and Eve that it was time to go as they “escorted” Precious, Peaches, and me right through the crowd and out the door to the street. Those waiting in line to get in was glad for the show. Hella embarrassing.

I couldn’t do shit but shake my head as I stood in the street in my bare damn feet. I came out to party, have a little fun with my friends, and try not to fixate on what the fuck my man was doing. Getting lumped the fuck up because of some of his mama’s shit wasn’t in my plans at all.

“Damn, stripper Barbie, I ain’t know you had it in you,” Peaches said, lighting a blunt she pulled out her bra.

That’s because God has kept me from fucking you up, that’s why
, I thought. “What was y’all fighting over?” I asked, glad to see Eve and Michel finally leave the club. I took my purse from her and reached inside for the little gel flats I usually put on after the club.

“That big bitch stepped on my toe and I told her Precious, Magilla Gorilla, Fat Albert, Al Roker, and Biggie-looking ass to get
off
my fucking toe!” Peaches jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the girl walking up the street with her friends. “Shit, did I lie?”

When Eve tried to hand me my shoes—both of them—I eyed her like she was crazy. “You can throw
them
pissy motherfuckers in the trash,” I said, dead serious.

Michel raked his slender fingers through his hair. “I know that’s right,” he agreed.

Eve looked back at me like I was crazy. “Fucking Louboutins?
I’ll
rock these pissy motherfuckers then.”

I shrugged. I wasn’t the type of chick to waste money, but I didn’t want to drag nobody else’s piss and possible germs in Make$’s car or our apartment. Nothing.

“Oh
heeeeeeeellll
no,” Peaches said, stepping up next to Eve and pulling a plastic grocery bag from her purse. “Put them Loubies right in this bag, beanpole.”

I rolled my eyes, even as I wondered who in they right mind carried grocery bags balled up in they pocketbook. Why? Who? When? Why? How?

“You not gone waste my son’s money, Miss Chocoliscious,” she snapped. “And I’m gone tell Terrence that’s how you living. I told him he need to let me handle his money while he gone. You ain’t had job the first since you fell off the stripper pole and you just wasting money like you Keyshia Cole, Mary J. Blige, or some shit. Fuck you and fuck what you thinking, baby boo. You wait ’til I talk to him.”

“Girl, you right, Peaches,” Nikki Façade cosigned, digging under her loose tracks to scratch her scalp.

Eve and Michel and I shared a long look. I knew they had to be thinking what I was thinking. I just fought a bitch for her ass and she flipped the script on me in a heartbeat.

I wasn’t worrying about fucking up my cash flow. Peaches was on a strict allowance outside of the house he bought her, and there was no way he was trusting her crazy ass with his money. Hell, I barely had a lot of access to it.

Still, that bitch was dirty. I should’ve left her laid the fuck out on the floor, but hindsight is always clearer.

Dumb bitch.

Since Make$ was out of town, Michel and Eve spent the night with me. A couple of bottles of moscato and retelling about our club escapade kept my mind occupied, but as soon as I set them up in the guest room and made my way to our master suite I felt all my loneliness again. That shit was starting to fit me like a second skin.