Page 6 of Queen of the Pole

I loved this shit. When you’ve been a certified ‘it’ girl your entire life and have given off main character energy from the moment you were born, you were going to live for shit like this. Seeing all these eyes on me, the phones pulled out, recording me, I felt like I was in my element. I was where I belonged.

After the crowd went crazy, I started walking towards the VIP section, in which I knew the Bennett brothers were going to be. As I was making my way over there, I was pulled. My body was so familiar with him, that I already knew who it was that pulled me. That’s the only reason why I didn’t snatch away.

My body knew those arms. When my ass slammed against his pelvis, and I got a feel of that dick through his jeans, I was able to relax because I knew that dick. It’s been inside holes in my body that I didn’t even think he was supposed to enter. I’ve bounced all around it. Sucked all over it, trying to take the fuckin skin off.

I knew his scent. I was overly going when it came to this man, so his scent was one of those things that I’ve always been obsessed with. I knew it was him. It was Hitta’s ass. Showing off in this fuckin club, knowing that we didn’t do the PDA in public. Even though we didn’t, everybody knew I was fuckin him.

“You showing out tonight? Your phone broke or something? I called you and texted you to let you know that I was going to pull up on you. Why it always gotta be a war with you? Every time I turn around, I’m beefing with you. We can’t have peace, beautiful?” his lips were right next to my ear. I was such a stone-cold bitch, especially when it came to these niggas, but I folded every time with Hitta, and I hated that for me.

“I’m not at war with you. I’m just not fuckin with you right now, and don’t ask me why because you know why. Move. I need to go make money,” I said to him, attempting to reach my hand back, so that I could push his ass off me, but he wouldn’t let me.

He had a strong grip on me. His right hand was wrapped around my waist, holding me in place, not allowing me to remove myself.

“How was I supposed to know that you and that bitch were beefing, Deja? You didn’t tell me that shit. You act like I went out my way to fuck the bitch because I knew you were beefing with her. I didn’t know. I told you that shit already,” he said, and I sucked my teeth at that.

I turned around in his arms, so that I could look at him. I hated that I was doing this shit at my job with him. That’s why I didn’t like it when Hitta came down to watch me dance because it would always lead to us bringing our personal problems here, and that’s not what I wanted. I had all these people here, waiting to see me perform, and here I was, standing here, arguing with him.

“I’m not doing this here with you. I gotta work. Let me go,” I said, pushing myself away, and this time, he let me go, but I could tell that he didn’t want to.

“You going up there to the VIP section where them Bennett niggas at? How much you think you going to make off them tonight? Ten? Twenty? Thirty? Say a number, and I’ll give it to you. Leave with me. Let me eat and fuck my way out of war with you,” he said, looking at me with those beautiful eyes that didn’t do nothing but look back at me all the time, and fuckin lie to me.

The thing is, Hitta wasn’t lying about anything that he just said to me. Whatever price I gave him, he would put that money in my hands, easily. He was good for it. The nigga wasn’t lacking in the spending department. He wasn’t lying about eating, and fuckin his way out of war with me, either. He could very much do that too. That dick on him was going to have my ass in the psych ward.

He was such a sight to look at too. Typical Miami nigga. Beautiful dreads in his hair, that cascaded down his back. Hitta wasn’t the kind of man that was sitting in anyone’s salon chair every couple of months to retwist his dreads, either. He hasn’t had a retwist in almost six months. I know because whenever he was ready for one, he would always call me to do it for him. I retwisted his dreads six months ago for him. I usually hated the rugged, in need of a retwist kind of look, but Hitta could get away with it because he was always up to date on his line ups. He had the kind of hair texture that was soft, so even on those days when he was in need of a retwist, just seeing his beautiful roots made his dreads stand out even more.

He was taller than me. He was probably 6’2”. Hitta was slim though. His body type was my favorite built on a man. I loved a skinny, tall nigga. Those were typically the ones with the bigger dicks. When he smiled, the diamonds would involuntarily flash at you every time, making you fall in love with the iced out grill he had. It wasn’t the ghetto ass gold teeth. It was a mouth full of individually fitted diamond grills, that I knew he broke the bank for. Beautiful brown skin, tattoos that adored his body, and the only facial hair that Hitta had was the little bit of chin hair.

Whenever Hitta stepped into a room, you could smell the money on him. He wore his money in the clothes that he put on, the jewelry that he rocked, his shoes, and even the cars he pushed. They called him Hitta because of the way that he made his money. He wasn’t a dope boy, he wasn’t a scammer, neither was he a rapper. He got the nickname Hitta a few years ago because of the credibility that he now had of sports betting and always hitting.

It didn’t matter if it was sports betting, going to the casino, or shooting dice, his ass was going to hit. I’m not talking a little thousand dollars that he’ll flip to two thousand if his slip hits. This man would bet fifty bands or better and that same fifty bands would give him a payout of six figures or more. Hitta was loud with the shit he did. He had a killing on social media and would often post his payouts. Niggas would get inspired, but also, take into count that this is Miami, so a lot of niggas would hate on his ass too. It was by the grace of God that he was still alive because niggas have been trying to kill his ass for years now. They wanted what he had. Wanted his cars, money, and jewelry.

“No. I’m about to go work. Blue will be pissed if I leave. That’s why you came here? To try and get me to go home?” I asked him, cocking my head to the side, hating that I was still here, entertaining this conversation with him.

“Yeah. I haven’t seen you in a week. You won’t pick the phone up for me, or text me back, so I had to pull up. Go handle your business, baby. Ima stick around until you get off,” he said it casually, like he just knew that I was going to leave with him.

I couldn’t say that he was wrong though. He was so used to getting his way when it came to me, so why would tonight be any different?

I chose to just walk away from him. I headed over to the section where the Bennett brothers were. I planned to make a killing off them niggas tonight. All four of them were here, and I wanted to take home at least twenty bands from them tonight. I needed spending money for Atlanta this weekend. I do some of my best shopping whenever I’m in the A.

CHAPTER 2

WARREN ‘WOLF’ BENNETT

“Ya’ll niggas got about one more hour out of me before I get the fuck on. I’m out of my comfort zone right now. I don’t do this shit,” I said to my brothers, as I sat in a section with them, holding a cigar in my hands, after just taking a long pull from it.

It was Monday night, and they had me at Club Playground. This spot opened five years ago, I believe, and his was my first time stepping foot in here. I only stepped out tonight because my baby brother turned 27, and the nigga called me out earlier, saying how I never went out of my way to spend his birthday with him. He made a nigga out to be the worst brother in the world. It truly mattered to me the way my brothers viewed me, so even though I would rather be at the crib right now, chilling in my own sanctuary, and not have to be around a bunch of motha fuckas, I showed up for my brother. If he planned to do this shit again next year, I couldn’t say that I was going to be in attendance.

“Out of your comfort zone how, nigga? They let us in with sticks. We in a section filled with niggas that’ll take anybody’s head off for even looking at us crazy. Nigga, just vibe. They about to send out the baddest hoes in our section. Man, wait until you lay eyes on Poison. Swear to God that’s the prettiest bitch that I’ve ever seen in my fuckin life,” that was my brother Kendrix.

Kendrix was the wild brother out of all of us. The one that I felt lacked the most common sense. The one that was always beefing with random niggas. The one who’s unfortunately had to feel me put my foot in his ass on numerous occasions over the years. I couldn’t stand a hot-headed ass man, and that’s exactly what my brother was. I was younger than him, yet it was me that always had to check him about something.

“This nigga will see Poison, and still not think that she’s the prettiest bitch alive,” my other brother Kingston cracked.

Kingston was the oldest out of all of us. He was 37 years old. The only brother that was married, and he had three children. You would think that he would be home with his wife, and kids, but Kingston moved like he was a single man, just like the rest of us. It wasn’t my story to tell, so I’ll just say that his ass commits so much adultery in his marriage, that I know for a fact he’s going straight to hell.

I ignored the commentary coming from my brothers, while I continued to sit back, and take in the views before me. Even though this club shit really wasn’t my thing, I had to give credit where it was due and admit that the owner, Blue had him something big in here. The space was nice. You could tell that a lot of money went into the remodeling. I had a business of my own, so I knew what it looked like to step foot into another business, seeing the flooring, the lighting, TV screens, and all the other investments, to know that money was well spent. I loved to see a nigga have a hustle. Loved to see a young nigga bring his vision to life and get rich off it. Kind of shit that kept me motivated.

“Look. Look. There she go right there. She walking over with her girl Honey, and I can’t think of the other two dancers name. Poison is the one in the front. Walking on the left. With the pink on. Shit!” Kendrix hit me on my arm, so that he could get my attention. Because I was looking ahead of me, I had to turn my head, so that I could look at the woman that he was referring to.