Page 55 of A Little Kissing Between Friends

Heading toward the exit, I shook my head. “I don’t know, man.”

Cody was right behind me as we exited the club and headed toward our cars. “Nah, I don’t buy that bullshit. What even was that shit you said about Jucee not being into women?”

Frustrated, I spun on him. “Damn, bruh! It was just some shit I said. It’s not that serious.”

He cocked his head to the side as he stared at me, his lip curled like something stunk.

“It is that serious though. Daddy told me what happened at the studio the other day, and now this. Not to mention the damn death lasers you were shooting my way earlier. What’s up with you?”

I gave him an exasperated look. “You already know how I feel about you asking Jucee for a lap dance! You thought I would just sit there and clap and cheer? Hell no!”

His face scrunched up. “Oh. So you were pissed because you hadn’t been expecting to see her, so you handled that by ignoring her and then getting mad when she gave me a lap dance. That sounds real smart.”

“Man, fuck you,” I sneered. I didn’t like what he was trying to say.

“Yeah, okay, Cyn. You keep treating Jucee like shit and she’s gon’ dump your ass.”

“We’re not together!” I yelled, throwing my hands in the air.

He pursed his lips. “I meant as a friend, but you’ve made it quite clear that y’all aren’t together. You’re making it a little too clear, to be quite honest. Makes me wonder why you’re protesting it so much.” Quirking an eyebrow, he gave me a knowing look.

Yeah, I’d had enough.

“That’s my cue.”

Turning, I walked away from him and crossed the parking lot until I reached my car. I needed damage control and I needed it quickly.

Chapter Sixteen

Jucee

What’s Tea?

One thing I didn’t have time for was dealing with Poppa’s bullshit when I had bigger problems on my plate. My job was on the line. Sort of. Mal had called for a club-wide meeting at seven in the morning that Saturday, and I was on pins and needles just wondering if Sanity as we knew it would still be in operation.

Sanity was open seven days a week, three hundred and sixty-five days a year. She opened at 11:00 a.m. Monday through Friday, and 10:30 a.m. on Saturday and Sunday, and she stayed open until four in the morning. Every major, minor, and made-up holiday, she was open. Food was served every day, and on Thanksgiving and Christmas, the meals were reminiscent of the familiar dishes found in homes across the nation.

When I first moved to Houston and learned about the strip club scene, I thought those hours were wild and unsustainable. I couldn’t fathom that people would wake up ready to see titties and ass at lunchtime.

I was so naive back then.

It didn’t take me long to get with the program, and now, three years later, I knew that folks not only woke up ready, but went to sleep with it in their plans for the following day. There were people who came to Sanity every day for lunch, and those that strolled in for Sunday brunch religiously.

“What do you think this is about?”

Sucking her teeth, Mercedes slapped the steering wheel. “Shiiid! It had better be about the dressing room thief we have yet to catch.”

Over the last couple of weeks, several items had been coming up missing from the dressing room. They were all small things that weren’t missed until they needed to be used, but once we realized what was going on, we started taking inventory. Most of the girls who danced on the weekend had been hit. Shoes, weave brushes, panties. The most random shit, but it was consistent. We’d mentioned it to Josey—short for Josephine—and she’d taken it to Mal.

The next thing we knew, Josey had sent out a text blast on Friday night, informing us that Mal had called an impromptu meeting. The message required everyone to confirm they’d received the information because it was mandatory that everyone be present. While it wasn’t unusual for us to have meetings, impromptu ones were rare, and to top it off, the tone of Josey’s text was urgent, which made me nervous. What was going on?

Since it was my off day, Mercedes picked me up on her way to the club. We stopped at Black Coffee and then made it to Sanity with ten minutes to spare. Inside, the scent of grits and butter hit my nose, making me stop in my tracks for a moment. There was something familiar about it that I needed to figure out where I knew it from. When it hit me, I squealed and rushed further into the building, catching up to Mercedes, who had already grabbed a plate. The breakfast spread covering the bar featured several of my favorites from the menu at Chicken Or The Egg.

“Good morning, ladies,” Josey chirped from behind the bar. She was pouring orange juice into champagne flutes. “Help yourselves to the food and then have a seat over at the tables. Mal will be out shortly to start the meeting.”

She didn’t have to tell me twice. I fixed my plate of grits, fried catfish, scrambled eggs, and buttered toast and then took it over to a table. A few women were already in the section and waved good morning. Mercedes was already eating, so I sat my plate next to her and went back to the bar to grab two mimosas from Josey. By the time I returned to the table, Mercedes was done and the rest of the dancers and all of the staff and crew had arrived. Some were seated while others were in line to fix their food. It was seven o’clock on the dot, and every single employee of Sanity had arrived.

One thing about Mal was that she demanded punctuality. She was fair and accommodating, but when it came to playing with her time, she had no tolerance.