Caught Up. Shannon Holmes

How much you get?

      “Eight hundred,” Dixyn spat.

      “Daaaaammmmmnnnn! That’s all?”

      “Yup.”

      “You lyin’!”

      “Kendra, why would I lie? That’s all I got.”

      “Girlfriend, you got more than eight hundred funky-ass dollars,” Kendra said. “You also got played. Ain’t no fuckin’ way in the world you let them muthafuckas at the pawn shop lowball you like that. You should have known better than to go for that.”

      One thing Dixyn didn’t like about Kendra was that she was sometimes quick to criticize and she didn’t always take time to listen, let alone sympathize. But regardless, like it or not, Kendra kept it real. Dixyn could have called someone else to hear what she wanted to hear, but Kendra always said what she thought.

      Dixyn snapped, “Well maybe if you would have come like you said you would, then it wouldn’t have gone down like that. Shit, what the fuck I know about pawning something?”

      “Bitch, don’t be mad at me ’cause I ain’t go! I got problems of my own. I can’t be holdin’ ya hand every minute of the day. Every goddamn day I let you cry on my shoulder. Ain’t that enough? Anyway, what else did you take up there? I know Bryce had a lot of other shit worth something.”

      “No, he didn’t. I thought I told you that already. When they raided the house, the feds grabbed all of Bryce’s jewelry and about seventy thousand in cash that he had stashed.”

      Kendra let loose a whistle into the phone. “That’s a lot of racks.”

      “Tell me about it!” Dixyn cracked. “A bitch like me could use some of that money right now. Did I tell you that the bank is foreclosing on the town house? I got the car dealer calling me every other day, saying that if I don’t turn in the Range, the delinquent payments will negatively affect my credit . . .”

      Dixyn launched into the host of financial troubles she was currently experiencing. She had never confided in Kendra as much as she did now. But she needed a confidante, and Kendra was there.

      Kendra sat on the other in of the phone halfheartedly listening while watching a repeat episode of Love & Hip Hop. She had heard this sad song before. Quite frankly, Dixyn was beginning to sound like a broken record. Kendra knew exactly how to help Dixyn out of her predicament, but her friend was either too stubborn or too scared to take her up on the offer.

      After about an hour of venting to Kendra, a realization set in for Dixyn. She had two choices: she could either keep crying and complaining, or she could do something. “Kendra, what’s up with the club?” she suddenly asked. “I’m about ready to take you up on that offer.”

      “What?” Kendra called out. “You kiddin’ me, right?”

      “Nope.”

      “Dead ass?” Kendra asked.

      “Yup. Whatever that means.”

      “I’m on my way over there right now,” Kendra announced. “Bitch, we needs to talk. Shit just got real.”

      * * *

      An hour later, Kendra pulled her red Mercedes Benz C-Class coupe into the driveway and honked the horn. Dixyn hurried to the window, peeking through the blinds before opening the door. Dixyn was glad she had showed up this time.

      “Kendra!” Dixyn greeted happily, hugging her friend.

      As Kendra sashayed inside the house, Dixyn couldn’t help but notice how her butt bulged out of her low-rise True Religion jeans. “Damn, Kendra, is it me or is your ass getting bigger?”

      “Anal sex,” Kendra replied bluntly, playfully smacking her behind.

      “What?”

      “Anal sex,” Kendra repeated. “It makes ya ass fatter. I been fuckin’ wit’ dis dude and that’s all he likes to do.”

      “Better hope that nigga ain’t gay.”

      “With a dick that big, it would be a shame. Besides, don’t knock it till you try it,” she joked.

      “I hear that.”

      With Kendra leading the way, the duo walked through the house until they reached the kitchen. Kendra made herself at home, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “I bought you somethin’,” she said as she rummaged around in her purse. “If I could only find it now. Damn, there it is.”

      Kendra removed a plastic bag of kush, a high-grade form of marijuana, and handed it to Dixyn, who put the weed to her nose and inhaled its aroma. The smile that adorned her face signaled her approval.

      “Here, bitch,” Kendra added, tossing her a blunt wrap from her bag. “You can’t do nuttin’ without this.”

      Dixyn caught the blunt wrap and busied herself rolling up the kush. Moments later, she was hungrily licking the blunt to seal it. She inhaled deeply while igniting the flame, then exhaled through her nose, releasing a huge cloud of smoke.

      Meanwhile, Kendra calmly removed a dollar bill from her purse and unfolded it, exposing the white powdery substance. She carefully dug her pinky nail into the mound of cocaine and shoveled hit after hit into her nostrils, then looked up to find Dixyn staring at her in amazement.

      “What, bitch? You act like you ain’t never seen nobody sniff coke.”

      “Ah . . .” Dixyn began to say. “Nothing.” She was surprised by Kendra’s drug of choice. But she was even more surprised by her friend’s lack of discretion. It was as if this was normal everyday shit for her.

      “Anyway,” Kendra said as she put away her drug, “this stripping shit is easy. All you gotta do is shake ya ass for some thirsty-ass niggas and you can get your money. Easy.”

      “Damn, Kendra, you make it sound so simple,” Dixyn replied between tokes on her blunt.

      “Because it is. This shit ain’t rocket science. You don’t need a degree in physics or even a GED. Bum bitches do it, old bitches do it, and ugly bitches do it. But only bad bitches like me and you get top dollar. Them other hos have to fight for the scraps.”

      For an hour, Kendra went on to break down the ins and outs of the strip game, making it sound easy, while Dixyn expressed her concerns and reservations. When enough drugs were consumed by both women, they had convinced each other that what Kendra was saying was the truth. Dixyn was completely sold on the idea of making fast cash. The notion of finding some financial stability seemed to have won her over.

      Persuaded that Dixyn was actually down to strip, Kendra took her to a local sex shop and bought her a few outfits for the club. She told Dixyn that she would speak to the club owner, Notti, to make sure that everything was a go.

      As they drove back home, the duo made small talk before Kendra issued a stern warning.

      “Yo, Dixyn, lemme warn you about one thing. Don’t fuck with none of them bitches at the club. They ain’t your friend. I am, and them bitches is no good. Again, I strongly advise you not to fuck with them. And most of all, don’t tell those bitches ya business. If you tell them bitches ya business, you won’t have no business. Feel me?”

      “I feel you,” Dixyn replied faintly.

      Kendra didn’t elaborate, nor did Dixyn question her about this. One thing was for sure—even if Dixyn wasn’t feeling this situation, she was in it now.

      Chapter Three

      The locker room door opened and the stream of music seemed to follow Dixyn as she crossed the entrance that separated the patrons from strippers. The sour scent of body odor mixed with cheap perfume caught her attention. She wrinkled up her nose, cautiously inspecting each locker number, looking for the one assigned to her. Dixyn felt alone, and for good reason. Her strip