Promise Kept, page 2
“Sincere, this broad is out of pocket. This is an eight-hundred-dollar Gucci suit she ruined.” Bone pointed at the liquor stains on his outfit. He knew that, once you let Hennessey settle into something light-colored, it was a wrap for the garment.
“An eight-hundred-dollar piece that you copped off Treece the booster for three-fifty.” Sincere pulled a bankroll from his pocket and peeled off two hundred dollars, which he shoved into Bone’s chest. “Get it cleaned or put another buck-fifty on top of it to cop another one. I don’t care either way, but I’m gonna need you to stop making us look like lil niggas with no home training, ya heard?”
“You right.” Bone tucked the money in his pocket and stood down. He didn’t do so because he was afraid of Sincere, but because he knew his brother was right. Stealth was their bread and butter, and his outburst had put eyes on them.
Once Sincere was sure that Bone was no longer in his feelings, he turned his attention to Promise. She was still sitting on the floor, covered in liquor, looking up at him curiously. “Let me help you.” He extended his hand. Promise was hesitant. “Don’t worry, shorty. I don’t bite. At least not unless I’m invited to.”
“Thank you,” Promise said, finally accepting the helping hand.
“No thanks needed. And please pardon my little brother Bone. He off his meds today,” Sincere half-joked.
“I know his type, so it’s all good,” said Promise. Mr. Dreamy-Eyed Sincere had no idea who she was and what she came from. His brother was a choir boy compared to some of the dudes she’d encountered in her neighborhood in Newark.
“What I owe you for the drinks?” Sincere went back to his bankroll.
“It was my fault. I should’ve been watching where I was going. Don’t worry about it.” Promise said, trying to sound more confident than she actually was. She knew that cheap-ass Larry was always looking for a reason to dock money from the girls’ pay. Those five shots of Hennessey she had dumped would hit her check for at least seventy-five dollars, if not more. When girls spilled drinks, Larry didn’t give them house prices, he hit them for what the bar charged.
“You say that now, but you might feel different when that slum-ass nigga who owns this place tries to tax you,” Bone said with a chuckle. It was as if he was reading her mind.
Sincere shot his brother a disapproving glance before refocusing on Promise. “Just take it.” He forced six crumpled twenties into her hand. “If you don’t want to put it on the spilled drinks, add it to your tip money.”
“Only bartenders and strippers are supposed to get tipped in here. I can take the money, but just keep it low.” Promise told him.
Sincere’s thick eyebrows curved in on each other. He gave Promise and her outfit the once over. “Shit, you in a strip club hustling and fosho don’t look like no janitor I’ve ever seen. So, if you ain’t a stripper or a bartender, what’s yo play?” He tugged at her boy shorts.
It wasn’t an aggressive gesture, just one that reminded Promise of what she was wearing and how it must’ve looked to him. Larry had forced them all to wear the platform heels, but she drew the line when he tried to hand out the decree about bikinis. Promise met him halfway on the dress code, coming to work in boy shorts and a skin-tight tank top. The shorts had ridden up her ass when she fell, now looking like a G-string, and the tank top was wet, exposing her silver-dollar-sized nipples beneath. “I wait tables here. Nothing else.” She folded her arms across her breasts, ending the free show.
“Easy, lil mama.” Sincere smiled at her embarrassment, revealing that his teeth were just as well put together as the rest of him. “I ain’t here to pass no judgment. I’m probably the biggest sinner in this whole joint, so I ain’t got no room to talk anyhow. I’m just trying to see where you at with it. That’s all.”
It felt like Sincere was flirting. She was almost sure he was, but Promise didn’t want to jump off the porch until she was certain. She was about to hit him with a slick rebuttal when Larry’s hating ass showed up.
“Look out, look out.” Larry elbowed his way through the small clusters of dancers and spectators who had gathered to watch the spectacle. His coal-black face was covered in a sheen of sweat, though it wasn’t that hot in the room. It seemed like Larry was always sweating. He was an oddly shaped man, with long, thin legs and arms and a beer belly that threatened to split the front of his yellow shirt and hung over the front of his too-tight white jeans. He was somewhere in his midforties, but his balding head made him look older. Larry was a bottom-feeder and a crook in his everyday life, but within the halls of Dirty Wine, he was the king. “Fuck going on around here.” His eyes flashed from Promise to Sincere and back.
“Ain’t nothing, OG. Just had a little accident. That’s all,” Sincere told him.
“Goddamn it, Jersey! Why is it that, every time there’s a commotion in my spot, your ass is at the center of it?” Larry barked at Promise, ignoring Sincere’s explanation.
“It was an accident, Larry,” Promise reiterated.
“Damn right it was. Just like it was an accident for me to hire your clumsy ass. You can’t dance, you fuck up drink orders, and more liquor ends up on my floors than it does the tables! Only reason I even gave your simple ass a job here is because Keisha and Candice vouched for you and they’re two of my best earners.” Larry turned to Sincere. “Listen, my apologies for whatever damages she’s caused. Let me comp you and your boys a bottle on the house.”
“Nah, man. It ain’t that serious. We pay like we weigh. We don’t do handouts,” Sincere said, declining the offer.
“Speak for yourself,” said Bone, cutting in. “We’ll take a bottle of Henny, but please don’t have this broad be the one to bring it to us. I ain’t trying to get drenched again.”
“Say less. And don’t worry, this was her last night working here,” Larry assured him.
“C’mon, Larry, don’t do me like that. You know I need this job!” Promise pleaded. She hated begging Larry for anything, but at that moment, she found herself desperate. When she and Mouse had moved in with Keisha and Candice, the young women had made it clear that they had to pull their own weight to help with the bills or they would be out on their asses. Waiting tables at Dirty Wine was one of several jobs Promise had tried her hand at since moving across the water. She’d put in applications at a few fast-food restaurants and the local supermarket. She’d even been called in for interviews twice. Promise was willing to put in honest work, but with each employer willing to give her an opportunity, she kept running into the same roadblock: her paperwork. Her driver’s license and social security cards were fakes. They were good enough for her to skate through a routine stop or purchase alcohol, but she wasn’t sure if they would stand up to a thorough background check. With her current fugitive status up in the air, she was afraid to risk it. The idea of going to prison wasn’t something that appealed to her, and the threat of street justice for her alleged crimes appealed to her even less.
When working a legitimate job hadn’t worked out, Promise got creative. She did mobile food delivery while hustling weed for Candice’s baby daddy Vaughn on the side. The food delivery gig had potential, but because she didn’t have a vehicle of her own, the drop-offs took forever, and she couldn’t cover enough ground fast enough on foot to make any real money. Vaughn’s business was only rocking every other week or so. The boy smoked more than he sold. This is how she found herself letting Keisha pull her into working at Dirty Wine with her and Candice. Promise had been working there for about three months, and every time she punched in for her shift at the small strip club, she was reminded of how far she had fallen. Only six months earlier, her biggest worry was not flubbing the Most Improved Student speech she was supposed to give in front of her high school graduating class. Now she worried if she would get back to their shared apartment in time to catch a spot on the couch, or if she’d be sleeping on the floor. This wasn’t how her life was supposed to play out.
“Tough shit, baby girl. You’re starting to become a liability, and I can’t afford that. Clean out your locker and hit the bricks!” Larry thumbed toward the door for emphasis.
Promise wanted to continue pleading her case, but she knew it would be a useless effort, especially in front of an audience. Larry had been looking to get rid of her for a while now. Ever since he cracked on her for some pussy and she had shot him down, Promise had been on his shit list. He had only kept her around for two reasons: having a thick white girl working at his spot was a draw, even if she was only a waitress, and the second reason was that he had held onto hope that she would give in and let him hit it. Most of the new girls played hard to get in the beginning, but that was only until they came to discover the benefits of being in Larry’s good graces. He was a prick to work for, but he was also a major trick. He didn’t mind spending money if the pussy or the head was official. Promise had yet to break down and give in, so in his mind, she was on the clock, and her time was damn near up. This latest debacle was the excuse he needed to be able to fire her and not have to worry about Keisha beefing about him finally getting rid of her play-cousin. Promise lowered her head and was about to begin her walk of shame back to the dressing room area when Sincere’s voice stopped her.
“That’s too bad. You know me and my boys had planned to come in here and spend some paper.” Sincere flashed his large bankroll for Larry to see. “I was hoping Ms. Jersey could attend to our needs personally. If she’s no longer employed here, I guess we’re going to have to take our business elsewhere.” He stuffed the money back in his pocket. “What you think, Bone?” He spoke over his shoulder to his brother. “That other spot off Jerome should be jumping tonight, right?”
“Should be. It’s still early enough for us to get out of here and go find out.” Bone picked up on the game his brother was playing.
“Hold on now. I don’t see no need for you boys to go somewhere else when we got everything you need right here at Dirty.” Larry changed his tune at the threat of money walking out the door. “Odell.” He snapped his fingers over his head. “Odell!”
The overhead lights under which they were standing seemed to wink in and out as if due to some type of power surge. But this was no surge . . . it was a man whose frame was large enough to block the light out. Odell was the largest man Promise had ever seen. He had to be at least six foot six and almost as wide. Rocking a short bowl cut with pale skin and sunken cheeks, Odell bore a striking resemblance to the DC Comics villain Solomon Grundy. A half-dozen bouncers were employed at Dirty Wine, but Odell was the first and last line of defense.
Odell loomed silently, letting his eyes drift over Sincere and every man with him. It was like he was putting together a kill list in his head so that he could decide which order the men would die in. He turned to Larry with a questioning look on his face. All it would’ve taken was a head nod, and Odell would’ve snapped both the brothers’ necks without thinking twice about it. When Larry set him to a task, it was never personal. Every jaw he broke and every neck he snapped on behalf of Larry just brought Odell one step closer to repaying the debt owed to Larry by Odell’s late father. He never cared to work for Larry, and he made this apparent to his boss in the way in which he dispatched those he had been set upon. Odell was thorough in everything he did by nature, but he always went the extra mile when it came to doing things for Larry. This way Larry could see what he was capable of firsthand, which would create a lingering fear in the back of his boss’s mind and make Larry think twice about ever playing him unfairly. Odell wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he was no butter knife either. His hands flexed at his sides while he waited for instructions on what to do next.
“Dell, walk these fine gentlemen to one of our tables and make sure they get a fresh bottle of that Dog,” Larry said. By Dog he meant Hennessey. “While you’re at it, be sure that they’ve also got some of our finest girls to entertain them.”
“You know we ain’t got but eight tables in this place and they’re all booked for the night. People coming out in droves to see this Inferno nigga,” Odell said in the heavy southern drawl he had brought north with him from his native Louisiana.
Larry eased closer to Odell so that his reply would be private. “Seat these boys and we’ll work the rest out at a later time.” There was fresh cash in the room, and Larry needed to taste every dollar that passed through his spot. “Jersey,” he said, turning to Promise, “go get yourself cleaned up so you can come back and tend to your business.”
“So, I’m not fired anymore?” Promise asked sarcastically.
“Gal, don’t get cute.” Larry pulled Promise close so that only she could hear what he was saying. “You dodged the hangman’s noose, but this can either be a stay of execution or a full exoneration for your crimes. That’ll all depend on how you conduct yourself for the rest of the night. No matter how it shakes out, I still get my taste. Now hurry up and get your ass back here so we can get this money.” He slapped her on the ass and gave her a small shove toward the dressing area. He waited until she was gone before turning his attention back to his payday. “Now, about that paper you were wolfing about spending.”
CHAPTER TWO
Promise left the exchange with mixed feelings. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of the confrontation or Sincere. She had never seen him at Dirty Wine before, but he handled himself within its walls as if they were familiar. She also hadn’t missed out on how willing Larry was to accommodate Sincere for whatever offenses might’ve taken place. Larry was a cheap son of a bitch and never offered anything for free but game, and that was only when he was applying it. Larry seemed eager to please Sincere, which said that he knew more about him than he let on. She had no idea who Sincere was, but she was thankful for him. He had saved her job—at least for the moment.
“Fucking jerk,” Promise mumbled to herself, thinking about how Larry had belittled her in front of Sincere and his group. Taking shit from Larry was hard enough when she was scheduled to work, but it burned her even more when it was voluntary. That was supposed to be her night off, but Larry had called at the last minute. One of the other waitresses had quit, and he needed someone to cover her shift on account of how crowded it would be in the place because of the rappers who would be in the building. Promise would’ve much rather just kicked back with Mouse and enjoyed her day off, but she was too broke to turn down the extra money. Rent would be due soon, and Keisha would be on her ass for her share.
Promise only had a few minutes to get herself cleaned up, changed, and back out on the floor to work Sincere’s table. If she was late, she doubted Larry would’ve let it slide, regardless of what Sincere said. She had just crossed the threshold which led to the bathrooms and girls’ dressing rooms. A line of girls was making their way out as she was going in. She had to jump out of their way to keep from getting knocked over. The dancers were practically climbing over each other like jackals to beat each other to the floor and get a head start on snagging one of the big spenders everybody had been whispering about. Word had it that Inferno’s listening party was going to bring out a couple of the record label executives who had been courting him. If what the other girls were saying was right, then there would be so much money flying around that even a klutz like Promise could find herself tripping over a bag.
After the passing stampede, Promise continued into the space that served as the dressing room for the dancers. It resembled a high school locker room, with three wooden benches between three rows of rusted lockers. There were only about a dozen or so, four per aisle. Four of the six overhead lights were blown, and Larry had yet to get someone to come and replace them. The best lighting in the entire room came from the two vanity tables in the back near the three cracked toilets, which sat behind a thin silk screen and included a single shower stall. Promise never fooled with the vanity tables. Larry had made it clear that such luxuries weren’t for the likes of her. They were for the money makers like Lita and a few of the others who brought people into the bar. If somebody like Promise needed to do her makeup or fix her hair, she had to settle for a hand mirror and the flashlight on her cell phone.
Promise made a quick stop at the double sink, where she grabbed a fist full of paper towels and began trying to wash some of the liquor she’d spilled off her skin. She wiped down her arms and legs and blotted her armpits, just in case. A shower would’ve been nice, but she knew, for a fact, that the stall hadn’t been cleaned in the time she had worked at Dirty Wine and could only imagine how long it had gone neglected before then. The ho bath was probably a safer option.
The dressing area reeked of funk, stale pussy, and chicken wings, which made for an odor Promise could gladly have done without smelling four nights per week, yet here she was. Her locker was on the last row, farthest from the door but closest to the toilets. They called that section of the dressing room “the Projects.” It was where the new, temporary, or ugly girls were banished to. Promise knew that she fit two of the three. Maybe all three depending on who you asked. She had suffered from insecurities since she was a little girl and, even as a young woman, found that they still lingered.
She parked herself on the bench that sat in front of her locker, sighed, and turned her attention to the dented metal door. She palmed the thick Master Lock hanging from the handle. It wasn’t a regular lock, but one of those thick, industrial numbers that you might see securing the fence of a junkyard with two mean-ass dogs barking behind it. Keisha and Candice always teased Promise when she put the heavy-duty lock on, but her locker had already been broken into twice since she had been working there. She welcomed the thirsty bitches who had stolen her stuff the last time to try their hands with this lock.
Promise only had a few minutes to get herself cleaned up and back out on the floor, so she had to move swiftly. Though the locker room was empty, she still gave a cautious look around as if she thought someone might be watching before spinning the dial on the lock back and forth, putting in her combination. There was an audible click before the spinner released the lock bar and Promise was granted access. She began to rummage through her mess of a locker for something dry that she could swap out for the wet clothes she had on. She found sneakers, hoodies, several knives, and a can of mace. None of that screamed sexy, and Larry demanded sexy. Just as she was about to abandon her search, she came across her knock-off Gucci fanny-pack. Inside, wrapped tightly in a plastic supermarket shopping bag, was a one-piece bathing suit.
“An eight-hundred-dollar piece that you copped off Treece the booster for three-fifty.” Sincere pulled a bankroll from his pocket and peeled off two hundred dollars, which he shoved into Bone’s chest. “Get it cleaned or put another buck-fifty on top of it to cop another one. I don’t care either way, but I’m gonna need you to stop making us look like lil niggas with no home training, ya heard?”
“You right.” Bone tucked the money in his pocket and stood down. He didn’t do so because he was afraid of Sincere, but because he knew his brother was right. Stealth was their bread and butter, and his outburst had put eyes on them.
Once Sincere was sure that Bone was no longer in his feelings, he turned his attention to Promise. She was still sitting on the floor, covered in liquor, looking up at him curiously. “Let me help you.” He extended his hand. Promise was hesitant. “Don’t worry, shorty. I don’t bite. At least not unless I’m invited to.”
“Thank you,” Promise said, finally accepting the helping hand.
“No thanks needed. And please pardon my little brother Bone. He off his meds today,” Sincere half-joked.
“I know his type, so it’s all good,” said Promise. Mr. Dreamy-Eyed Sincere had no idea who she was and what she came from. His brother was a choir boy compared to some of the dudes she’d encountered in her neighborhood in Newark.
“What I owe you for the drinks?” Sincere went back to his bankroll.
“It was my fault. I should’ve been watching where I was going. Don’t worry about it.” Promise said, trying to sound more confident than she actually was. She knew that cheap-ass Larry was always looking for a reason to dock money from the girls’ pay. Those five shots of Hennessey she had dumped would hit her check for at least seventy-five dollars, if not more. When girls spilled drinks, Larry didn’t give them house prices, he hit them for what the bar charged.
“You say that now, but you might feel different when that slum-ass nigga who owns this place tries to tax you,” Bone said with a chuckle. It was as if he was reading her mind.
Sincere shot his brother a disapproving glance before refocusing on Promise. “Just take it.” He forced six crumpled twenties into her hand. “If you don’t want to put it on the spilled drinks, add it to your tip money.”
“Only bartenders and strippers are supposed to get tipped in here. I can take the money, but just keep it low.” Promise told him.
Sincere’s thick eyebrows curved in on each other. He gave Promise and her outfit the once over. “Shit, you in a strip club hustling and fosho don’t look like no janitor I’ve ever seen. So, if you ain’t a stripper or a bartender, what’s yo play?” He tugged at her boy shorts.
It wasn’t an aggressive gesture, just one that reminded Promise of what she was wearing and how it must’ve looked to him. Larry had forced them all to wear the platform heels, but she drew the line when he tried to hand out the decree about bikinis. Promise met him halfway on the dress code, coming to work in boy shorts and a skin-tight tank top. The shorts had ridden up her ass when she fell, now looking like a G-string, and the tank top was wet, exposing her silver-dollar-sized nipples beneath. “I wait tables here. Nothing else.” She folded her arms across her breasts, ending the free show.
“Easy, lil mama.” Sincere smiled at her embarrassment, revealing that his teeth were just as well put together as the rest of him. “I ain’t here to pass no judgment. I’m probably the biggest sinner in this whole joint, so I ain’t got no room to talk anyhow. I’m just trying to see where you at with it. That’s all.”
It felt like Sincere was flirting. She was almost sure he was, but Promise didn’t want to jump off the porch until she was certain. She was about to hit him with a slick rebuttal when Larry’s hating ass showed up.
“Look out, look out.” Larry elbowed his way through the small clusters of dancers and spectators who had gathered to watch the spectacle. His coal-black face was covered in a sheen of sweat, though it wasn’t that hot in the room. It seemed like Larry was always sweating. He was an oddly shaped man, with long, thin legs and arms and a beer belly that threatened to split the front of his yellow shirt and hung over the front of his too-tight white jeans. He was somewhere in his midforties, but his balding head made him look older. Larry was a bottom-feeder and a crook in his everyday life, but within the halls of Dirty Wine, he was the king. “Fuck going on around here.” His eyes flashed from Promise to Sincere and back.
“Ain’t nothing, OG. Just had a little accident. That’s all,” Sincere told him.
“Goddamn it, Jersey! Why is it that, every time there’s a commotion in my spot, your ass is at the center of it?” Larry barked at Promise, ignoring Sincere’s explanation.
“It was an accident, Larry,” Promise reiterated.
“Damn right it was. Just like it was an accident for me to hire your clumsy ass. You can’t dance, you fuck up drink orders, and more liquor ends up on my floors than it does the tables! Only reason I even gave your simple ass a job here is because Keisha and Candice vouched for you and they’re two of my best earners.” Larry turned to Sincere. “Listen, my apologies for whatever damages she’s caused. Let me comp you and your boys a bottle on the house.”
“Nah, man. It ain’t that serious. We pay like we weigh. We don’t do handouts,” Sincere said, declining the offer.
“Speak for yourself,” said Bone, cutting in. “We’ll take a bottle of Henny, but please don’t have this broad be the one to bring it to us. I ain’t trying to get drenched again.”
“Say less. And don’t worry, this was her last night working here,” Larry assured him.
“C’mon, Larry, don’t do me like that. You know I need this job!” Promise pleaded. She hated begging Larry for anything, but at that moment, she found herself desperate. When she and Mouse had moved in with Keisha and Candice, the young women had made it clear that they had to pull their own weight to help with the bills or they would be out on their asses. Waiting tables at Dirty Wine was one of several jobs Promise had tried her hand at since moving across the water. She’d put in applications at a few fast-food restaurants and the local supermarket. She’d even been called in for interviews twice. Promise was willing to put in honest work, but with each employer willing to give her an opportunity, she kept running into the same roadblock: her paperwork. Her driver’s license and social security cards were fakes. They were good enough for her to skate through a routine stop or purchase alcohol, but she wasn’t sure if they would stand up to a thorough background check. With her current fugitive status up in the air, she was afraid to risk it. The idea of going to prison wasn’t something that appealed to her, and the threat of street justice for her alleged crimes appealed to her even less.
When working a legitimate job hadn’t worked out, Promise got creative. She did mobile food delivery while hustling weed for Candice’s baby daddy Vaughn on the side. The food delivery gig had potential, but because she didn’t have a vehicle of her own, the drop-offs took forever, and she couldn’t cover enough ground fast enough on foot to make any real money. Vaughn’s business was only rocking every other week or so. The boy smoked more than he sold. This is how she found herself letting Keisha pull her into working at Dirty Wine with her and Candice. Promise had been working there for about three months, and every time she punched in for her shift at the small strip club, she was reminded of how far she had fallen. Only six months earlier, her biggest worry was not flubbing the Most Improved Student speech she was supposed to give in front of her high school graduating class. Now she worried if she would get back to their shared apartment in time to catch a spot on the couch, or if she’d be sleeping on the floor. This wasn’t how her life was supposed to play out.
“Tough shit, baby girl. You’re starting to become a liability, and I can’t afford that. Clean out your locker and hit the bricks!” Larry thumbed toward the door for emphasis.
Promise wanted to continue pleading her case, but she knew it would be a useless effort, especially in front of an audience. Larry had been looking to get rid of her for a while now. Ever since he cracked on her for some pussy and she had shot him down, Promise had been on his shit list. He had only kept her around for two reasons: having a thick white girl working at his spot was a draw, even if she was only a waitress, and the second reason was that he had held onto hope that she would give in and let him hit it. Most of the new girls played hard to get in the beginning, but that was only until they came to discover the benefits of being in Larry’s good graces. He was a prick to work for, but he was also a major trick. He didn’t mind spending money if the pussy or the head was official. Promise had yet to break down and give in, so in his mind, she was on the clock, and her time was damn near up. This latest debacle was the excuse he needed to be able to fire her and not have to worry about Keisha beefing about him finally getting rid of her play-cousin. Promise lowered her head and was about to begin her walk of shame back to the dressing room area when Sincere’s voice stopped her.
“That’s too bad. You know me and my boys had planned to come in here and spend some paper.” Sincere flashed his large bankroll for Larry to see. “I was hoping Ms. Jersey could attend to our needs personally. If she’s no longer employed here, I guess we’re going to have to take our business elsewhere.” He stuffed the money back in his pocket. “What you think, Bone?” He spoke over his shoulder to his brother. “That other spot off Jerome should be jumping tonight, right?”
“Should be. It’s still early enough for us to get out of here and go find out.” Bone picked up on the game his brother was playing.
“Hold on now. I don’t see no need for you boys to go somewhere else when we got everything you need right here at Dirty.” Larry changed his tune at the threat of money walking out the door. “Odell.” He snapped his fingers over his head. “Odell!”
The overhead lights under which they were standing seemed to wink in and out as if due to some type of power surge. But this was no surge . . . it was a man whose frame was large enough to block the light out. Odell was the largest man Promise had ever seen. He had to be at least six foot six and almost as wide. Rocking a short bowl cut with pale skin and sunken cheeks, Odell bore a striking resemblance to the DC Comics villain Solomon Grundy. A half-dozen bouncers were employed at Dirty Wine, but Odell was the first and last line of defense.
Odell loomed silently, letting his eyes drift over Sincere and every man with him. It was like he was putting together a kill list in his head so that he could decide which order the men would die in. He turned to Larry with a questioning look on his face. All it would’ve taken was a head nod, and Odell would’ve snapped both the brothers’ necks without thinking twice about it. When Larry set him to a task, it was never personal. Every jaw he broke and every neck he snapped on behalf of Larry just brought Odell one step closer to repaying the debt owed to Larry by Odell’s late father. He never cared to work for Larry, and he made this apparent to his boss in the way in which he dispatched those he had been set upon. Odell was thorough in everything he did by nature, but he always went the extra mile when it came to doing things for Larry. This way Larry could see what he was capable of firsthand, which would create a lingering fear in the back of his boss’s mind and make Larry think twice about ever playing him unfairly. Odell wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he was no butter knife either. His hands flexed at his sides while he waited for instructions on what to do next.
“Dell, walk these fine gentlemen to one of our tables and make sure they get a fresh bottle of that Dog,” Larry said. By Dog he meant Hennessey. “While you’re at it, be sure that they’ve also got some of our finest girls to entertain them.”
“You know we ain’t got but eight tables in this place and they’re all booked for the night. People coming out in droves to see this Inferno nigga,” Odell said in the heavy southern drawl he had brought north with him from his native Louisiana.
Larry eased closer to Odell so that his reply would be private. “Seat these boys and we’ll work the rest out at a later time.” There was fresh cash in the room, and Larry needed to taste every dollar that passed through his spot. “Jersey,” he said, turning to Promise, “go get yourself cleaned up so you can come back and tend to your business.”
“So, I’m not fired anymore?” Promise asked sarcastically.
“Gal, don’t get cute.” Larry pulled Promise close so that only she could hear what he was saying. “You dodged the hangman’s noose, but this can either be a stay of execution or a full exoneration for your crimes. That’ll all depend on how you conduct yourself for the rest of the night. No matter how it shakes out, I still get my taste. Now hurry up and get your ass back here so we can get this money.” He slapped her on the ass and gave her a small shove toward the dressing area. He waited until she was gone before turning his attention back to his payday. “Now, about that paper you were wolfing about spending.”
CHAPTER TWO
Promise left the exchange with mixed feelings. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of the confrontation or Sincere. She had never seen him at Dirty Wine before, but he handled himself within its walls as if they were familiar. She also hadn’t missed out on how willing Larry was to accommodate Sincere for whatever offenses might’ve taken place. Larry was a cheap son of a bitch and never offered anything for free but game, and that was only when he was applying it. Larry seemed eager to please Sincere, which said that he knew more about him than he let on. She had no idea who Sincere was, but she was thankful for him. He had saved her job—at least for the moment.
“Fucking jerk,” Promise mumbled to herself, thinking about how Larry had belittled her in front of Sincere and his group. Taking shit from Larry was hard enough when she was scheduled to work, but it burned her even more when it was voluntary. That was supposed to be her night off, but Larry had called at the last minute. One of the other waitresses had quit, and he needed someone to cover her shift on account of how crowded it would be in the place because of the rappers who would be in the building. Promise would’ve much rather just kicked back with Mouse and enjoyed her day off, but she was too broke to turn down the extra money. Rent would be due soon, and Keisha would be on her ass for her share.
Promise only had a few minutes to get herself cleaned up, changed, and back out on the floor to work Sincere’s table. If she was late, she doubted Larry would’ve let it slide, regardless of what Sincere said. She had just crossed the threshold which led to the bathrooms and girls’ dressing rooms. A line of girls was making their way out as she was going in. She had to jump out of their way to keep from getting knocked over. The dancers were practically climbing over each other like jackals to beat each other to the floor and get a head start on snagging one of the big spenders everybody had been whispering about. Word had it that Inferno’s listening party was going to bring out a couple of the record label executives who had been courting him. If what the other girls were saying was right, then there would be so much money flying around that even a klutz like Promise could find herself tripping over a bag.
After the passing stampede, Promise continued into the space that served as the dressing room for the dancers. It resembled a high school locker room, with three wooden benches between three rows of rusted lockers. There were only about a dozen or so, four per aisle. Four of the six overhead lights were blown, and Larry had yet to get someone to come and replace them. The best lighting in the entire room came from the two vanity tables in the back near the three cracked toilets, which sat behind a thin silk screen and included a single shower stall. Promise never fooled with the vanity tables. Larry had made it clear that such luxuries weren’t for the likes of her. They were for the money makers like Lita and a few of the others who brought people into the bar. If somebody like Promise needed to do her makeup or fix her hair, she had to settle for a hand mirror and the flashlight on her cell phone.
Promise made a quick stop at the double sink, where she grabbed a fist full of paper towels and began trying to wash some of the liquor she’d spilled off her skin. She wiped down her arms and legs and blotted her armpits, just in case. A shower would’ve been nice, but she knew, for a fact, that the stall hadn’t been cleaned in the time she had worked at Dirty Wine and could only imagine how long it had gone neglected before then. The ho bath was probably a safer option.
The dressing area reeked of funk, stale pussy, and chicken wings, which made for an odor Promise could gladly have done without smelling four nights per week, yet here she was. Her locker was on the last row, farthest from the door but closest to the toilets. They called that section of the dressing room “the Projects.” It was where the new, temporary, or ugly girls were banished to. Promise knew that she fit two of the three. Maybe all three depending on who you asked. She had suffered from insecurities since she was a little girl and, even as a young woman, found that they still lingered.
She parked herself on the bench that sat in front of her locker, sighed, and turned her attention to the dented metal door. She palmed the thick Master Lock hanging from the handle. It wasn’t a regular lock, but one of those thick, industrial numbers that you might see securing the fence of a junkyard with two mean-ass dogs barking behind it. Keisha and Candice always teased Promise when she put the heavy-duty lock on, but her locker had already been broken into twice since she had been working there. She welcomed the thirsty bitches who had stolen her stuff the last time to try their hands with this lock.
Promise only had a few minutes to get herself cleaned up and back out on the floor, so she had to move swiftly. Though the locker room was empty, she still gave a cautious look around as if she thought someone might be watching before spinning the dial on the lock back and forth, putting in her combination. There was an audible click before the spinner released the lock bar and Promise was granted access. She began to rummage through her mess of a locker for something dry that she could swap out for the wet clothes she had on. She found sneakers, hoodies, several knives, and a can of mace. None of that screamed sexy, and Larry demanded sexy. Just as she was about to abandon her search, she came across her knock-off Gucci fanny-pack. Inside, wrapped tightly in a plastic supermarket shopping bag, was a one-piece bathing suit.
