Chapter Sixteen

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.

Mal came from out the back and walked around, greeting everyone. She spoke to each and every person, making eye contact and saying their name. The way she knew and acknowledged everyone reinforced the differences between Mal and the owners of other clubs. She wasn’t putting on to give us a false sense of family; this was who she was. It was one of the things I loved about her that also made me not even consider wanting to work at another club. We weren’t just dollar signs here. Mal didn’t prioritize the highest earners and ignore everyone else. It was equal love on all fronts, and that’s what made Mal, and subsequently, Sanity, one of a kind.

After speaking to everyone, Mal went to the bar and poured herself a cup of coffee from the travelers on the other side of the plates. She added a criminally small splash of cream and at least a half a cup of sugar before walking back to the section. Standing at the handrail, she slid one hand into the pocket of her wrinkle-free lime-green slacks and addressed us.

“Okay, y’all. I’m sure everyone is wondering why I called this team meeting. I always want to be transparent with y’all. I never want anyone who works for me to say they don’t have any idea of what’s going on.” She looked at each of us. “With that being said—”

“You sellin’ the club?” yelled someone from the far right of the section. I didn’t see who said it, but it sounded like one of the servers.

“What?!”

“I know you fuckin’ lyin’!”

“Oh Lord, I don’t want to find a new club. I’m too old to start over!”

“Girl, what are you talking about?! You’re only twenty-seven.”

“I said what I said!”

Mal removed her hand from her pocket and held it up.

“Hold on now,” she urged, raising her a voice to get above the panicked shouts. “Let me finish. Sanity has been doing better than a lot of people expected. This is good news, but unfortunately it means that the people who invested in the club from the start are paying more attention now.”

“What does that mean?” one of the bartenders asked.

Mal sighed. “It means they want to buy me out. They want to take over ownership of the club so they can have maximum profits.”

It was quiet for a second while everyone processed, and then the noise level skyrocketed.

“Oh hell no!”

“Ain’t that ’bout a bitch!”

“I hope you told them no!”

She let everyone yell their opinions out, waiting patiently as she sipped her coffee. Once the noise died down, she continued.

“Let me assure you all. They’ll have to pry Sanity from my cold, dead fingers. This is my baby and I’m not letting it go for any amount of money.”

We all cheered and I felt a bone-deep relief wash over me. Sanity housed and nurtured my chosen family. To lose it would be a devastating blow.

“I’m telling y’all this for transparency, and also so that you won’t be alarmed when some changes start being made. There was a recent theft issue in the dressing room. I learned that it was connected to our former security system, which was a referral by one of the investors.”

“Oh, hell naw!” yelled Mercedes. “That’s a setup!”

Mal nodded. “I thought so too. Which is why that security company is no longer contracted with us and we are now on the hunt for a replacement. No need to worry—I expect to receive a few bids for service in the next twenty-four hours.”

After answering any additional questions about the thefts, the meeting dispersed and we were free to go about the rest of our day.

Instead of immediately leaving, a few of us hung around the club, chatting about what had been discussed. The club didn’t open for more than an hour, so a couple of the dancers decided to get some practice in on the pole. I refilled my coffee and my plate before Mercedes and I found ourselves sitting at a table near the stage talking as they danced.

“So how did last night go?” Mercedes asked me. She knew that I’d come in to work, but I hadn’t told her about what happened with Poppa. I took that moment to catch her up. Her eyes popped wide open when I told her what I’d overheard Poppa say about me.

It was bullshit in the highest order, because I’d dated at least three women since I’d met Poppa, and it all counted, even if she pretended like she didn’t see it. Everyone else of importance in my life knew that. She was the only one with blinders on.

And I got that, kinda. We didn’t talk about this kind of stuff. I’d actually assumed that it made her uncomfortable to discuss sex with me for whatever reason. In the beginning, I thought she just came from a conservative family that wasn’t open with those type of things, but after meeting her brothers and then her parents, I realized that it was just something about me that brought out the prude in her. However, after being her friend for the past three years, and having to hear about her conquests from the girls at work, I learned that not talking about sex didn’t equal not having it. Cyn wasn’t running through Sanity like a tomb raider, but she wasn’t a monk either.

It didn’t bother me then, and it didn’t bother me now, because the way I saw it, whatever she did with the women before me could only benefit me if we ever took it there.

And Lord knows I was tryna take it there with her.

And that was my dilemma, because clearly she didn’t see it for me. Not only that, she didn’t see me either, and I couldn’t get down with that.

From my peripheral, I noticed Mal enter the floor, her strides sure and determined. Her appearance didn’t strike me as odd, so I returned my attention back to the pole, only to be startled when she appeared at my side, standing over me.

“Let me talk to you real quick.”

Eyebrows raised, I exchanged looks with Mercedes before nodding and quickly standing to my feet. I followed Mal all the way to her office in the back of the building, where she motioned for me to close the door behind me. Suddenly, I was a little nervous.

Was I about to be fired?

Mal perched on the edge of her desk, folded her arms across her chest, and squinted at me.

“Why are you fidgeting like that?”

Dropping my hands to my sides, I shook them out and shifted from one foot to the other.

“My bad.”

She shook her head. “There’s nothing to be nervous about. I only called you in here because I didn’t want the others to think I’m giving you some sort of preferential treatment.”

That was the thing that made me stop fidgeting. Brows furrowed, I held my tongue and waited for her to elaborate.

“Listen, you’ve been here long enough that you could probably recite the rules in your sleep. There’s only ten of them, but each one is equally important.” Dropping her hands to the desk on either side of her, Mal pinned me with a knowing stare. “‘Don’t Fuck The Customers’ is number one for a reason.”

She knew.

A heavy weight dropped into my gut with a force so strong it nearly brought me to my knees.

“I—”

She lifted a hand, effectively silencing me.

“I didn’t say anything for the past year because the two of you have done a great job of keeping it under wraps, and I’m pretty sure I was the only one who peeped it. But now there’s obviously a rift between you and so I have to step in. From the comment Cyn Tha Starr made last night to the not-so-quiet conversation you just had out there on the floor, it’s clear that I need to remind you of how things go here in Sanity.” Lifting a hand, she pointed toward the door. “This building is sacred and that floor is a place of worship. We don’t desecrate it by bringing the filth from our mishandled relationships in the door.”

I was seconds away from boohoo crying. Shame consumed me and brought with it a sob that was slick trying to church-finger its way out of my throat. Mal was right. I knew the rules, and even though I couldn’t help that I’d crashed headfirst into love with Poppa, I’d made the decision to bring my frustrations into Sanity when I was supposed to be working.

From the first moment I walked through those heavy double doors, the club had been my sanctuary, my saving grace. Beyond that, the club was a place where fantasy and dreams were sold. Just like fans didn’t want to know that their favorite heart throb movie star was in a relationship, the “patients” that frequented Sanity didn’t want the illusion ruined for them either. It was toxic and annoying, but it was the business, and I’d known that from day one.

“I tell all you girls that if you ever need help, I got your back, but you have to remember what’s most important. We don’t compromise the club for pussy. Understand?”

Feeling good and properly chastened, I nodded.

“Yes, I understand. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Straightening, Mal shook her head and pushed off her desk. “Don’t be sorry, be mindful. The rules exist for a reason. Remember that.”

“Right.” Still nodding, I backed out of her office and headed back to the floor, where Mercedes sat in a chair near the stage, giving tips to Kreme, who was upside down on the pole with her arms stretched out on either side of her.

“So,” Mercedes asked as soon as I was reseated, “what was that about?”

“Mal was getting me together about this thing with Poppa.”

My friend’s mouth dropped into an O, and I didn’t blame her. I shook my head.

“First of all, she thinks me and Poppa have been together for over a year, which is wild. We aren’t even together now!” I shrugged. “After last night, it’s not even a concern anymore. I’m through with her. Through with the whole back and forth, and I’m through with her family. I’mma tell each of them soon. Not Poppa though—she already knows what’s up.”

Mercedes blinked at me before shaking her head as if she was trying to clear out smoke and giving me a disbelieving look. “Wait a minute, bitch! You’re gonna do what?!”

Rolling my eyes, I gave Mercedes a blank stare.

“You heard me.”

She shook her head and sat back in her chair. “Explain it to me one mo’ ’gin, because I know damn well you didn’t just say you’re about to go to that girl’s family and break up with them one-by-one. I just know that’s not what I heard!”

Sucking my teeth, I tossed a balled-up napkin at her. “I ain’t say that shit, and you know it.”

Mercedes tossed her hand into the air, her shoulders inches away from her ears. “That’s basically what came out of your mouth.”

“Not even close.”

“Eh.” She made a so-so motion with her hand and then cleared her throat before pressing a hand to the base of her throat. “I respect them too much to ghost them, so I’ll just let them know in person that I won’t be in their lives anymore.”

A shriek burst from my lips before I busted out laughing. “Mercedes! Why the hell did you use that sex line, phone operator voice to imitate me?!”

“Uh, duh. You have that nineties Toni Braxton, Grace Jones thing going on. Don’t play dumb.” Her eyes rolled to the ceiling as if she was annoyed with me, her clear exasperation cracking me up.

Bringing her warm brown eyes back to me, she pursed her lips. “I know what you’re doing and it won’t work. I’m not so easily distracted.”

My laughter petering off, I sighed and reached for my drink. I took a long sip of the hot coffee, taking the time to get my thoughts together because I knew that Mercedes wasn’t going to let this go without breaking down each and every word I’d said. When I’d stalled for as long as I could, I placed the glass back beside my half-consumed plate of fish and grits and shook my head.

“I just don’t want to offend anyone.”

I could feel my friend’s gaze on me but I refused to look at her. Mercedes had a way of looking into my soul when she wanted to find answers, and I wasn’t in the mood to be dissected.

“You’re doing a lot of emotional labor for a bigot.”

Shocked, my eyes flew up to meet hers. She was waiting for me, her arms folded on the table, her face the picture of concern. Groaning, I leaned forward, propping my elbows on the table as I buried my face in my palms.

“In their defense, they probably don’t even know that she’s like that.”

Somehow, she heard my mumbled words perfectly fine because she responded, “Well, are you going to tell them?”

Immediately I shook my head. “Absolutely not. That’s not my place.”

“And why not?!”

Her shout startled me, and I sat up to face her. The concern had been replaced with anger.

“Why isn’t it your place? You were just moaning about how you have to let them down easily because they love you and you don’t want to hurt their feelings. Saying that you love them so much and hate to lose them, but you won’t even tell them the real reason you’re dipping out on them.” Pinning me with a confused look, she continued. “You love them but you’re gonna lie to them with a straight face? That’s love?”

Sensing that she was only getting warmed up, I held up a hand, trying to stop her while she was ahead. “That’s not—”

She powered on as if I hadn’t said a word. “If you don’t say something, who will? And, furthermore—”

“Furthermore?”I sat back, impressed. She was pulling out the dissertation-level jargon on me.

“Furthermore,”she emphasized, rolling her eyes—likely at the teasing lilt in my voice—before continuing, “your decision to keep silent is a direct contradiction to the characteristics you constantly claim them to have—”

“How is—”

“You can’t say the Thomases are good people, inclusive, and accepting, but be afraid to continue engaging with them simply because you want to avoid Cyn.”

“That’s not it at all. That’s a very base-level understanding of what I’m telling you. They can be good people and I not deal with them anymore. Besides, how good can they be if biphobia came out of their ranks?”

The look on Mercedes’s face was skeptical but I waved her off.

“Don’t worry about it. It’ll be fine. And honestly, there’s only one person I expect to get any real pushback, but it won’t be too bad. Just you watch.” Mercedes had met the Thomas clan a couple of times at barbecues, but she didn’t know them a fraction as well as I did. It was best to let them each know individually that I was leaving out. If I tried to tell them all at once, they were liable to team up and overwhelm me with their protests. One thing I didn’t want to deal with was too many people trying to convince me why I was making a terrible decision according to them.

I had a soft spot for the Thomases because of what they represented to me. They were the family unit that I hadn’t had in so long, and losing them was going to be hard—I couldn’t afford to be influenced.