Chapter Three

Very Important Person

If I’d had any doubt that WundaGirl Ray’s sultry voice paired with the bass-heavy track I’d laid out was a winning combination, the Saturday night crowd at Sanity cleared that up within the first fifteen seconds of the song. “The Rest of You” opened with Ray humming a melody in C-minor just before the beat came in, and I heard a few whispers inquiring about the song near the back of the room where I sat while the stage that held everyone’s attention was still darkened. Forty-five seconds in, and folks were on their feet, rocking from side to side as Jucee squatted in front of the pole center stage, her back to the crowd as she isolated her ass cheeks to the rhythm. Two minutes in and folks had handfuls of cash in the air as they rubbed their hands down their bodies and whined to the song about friends becoming lovers and the desire for mind-blowing sex. Three minutes and twenty seconds into the song, the temperature in the room had ratcheted up to the eighties as the scene on the stage had everyone captivated.

Jucee had climbed to the top of the pole, which was at least two stories high. Using only her arms, she twisted her hands and spun her body while sticking her legs out at a forty-five-degree angle as she mimed walking around the pole in exaggerated steps. After making a complete turn, she brought her body flush with the pole and spread her legs into a wide split in the air. She held the pose for a full ten seconds, letting the final crescendo build along with the anticipation as everyone became silent, all eyes riveted to her—magnetized. And when the piano and horn came in, along with Ray’s harmonizing, the beat dropping at the perfect moment, so did Jucee, sliding down the pole effortlessly, as if she had no grip on the chrome at all. It was amazing to witness.

And when she reached the bottom, Jucee wrapped both hands around the pole, tightening her grip, slowing at a nerve-wracking pace just before reaching the ground, where she spread her legs and landed in a full split. The moment she touched the floor of the stage, the entire building erupted into a cacophony of cheers that drowned out the end of the song, but I didn’t care. Showers of bills flew into the air, raining down on the stage like confetti from a pi?ata. Cody and I probably tossed out a cool five thousand between us, and we were small potatoes next to the rappers and athletes who took up residence near the stage.

Thiswas why Jucee made sure to dance one weekend out of each month. She earned a year’s worth of expenses in just four total hours over two nights. It made the money she earned by dancing during the week look like pennies, although two to three thousand for a collective twenty hours of work was nothing to sneeze at.

Turning to my younger brother, I cracked up at the awe on his face. He’d come with me to Sanity several times over the past couple of years, but it never failed to amaze him when Jucee took the stage. Everybody knew he had a little crush on her, but as long as he didn’t act on it, I was cool with it. Cody wasn’t allowed to fuck with my friends, and that had been a rule since we were teenagers and he transitioned from simply liking girls to wanting to hump them like a puppy. I learned the hard way that some of those same girls would shamelessly go through me to get to either of my brothers. Caleb had always been a hard nut to crack, but Cody’s extra-horny self never turned down no pussy—and I mean...I couldn’t really blame him since I was the same way—though once I put him up on game, he became more discerning when chicks would get to smiling in his face after he saw them hanging around me first.

As Jucee finished her set and exited the stage, four women wearing uniforms of shiny, pink hot pants and cropped purple t-shirts came out with large canvas bags and began to collect the money that covered the floor like a carpet. Each of them wore black latex gloves and black masks over their mouths. Two used push brooms to gather the money in the center of the stage while the other two stuffed the bills in the bags. DJ High-Fee turned up the music and jumped on the mic, addressing the crowd as additional servers flooded the room, the two working in tandem to keep the cleaning of the stage from crushing the vibe. The crew at Sanity was a well-oiled machine, and the process took less than five minutes before the lights were dimming again and two women were on the stage circling the pole and each other.

After about ten minutes, Jucee sauntered over to us wearing a different outfit than she’d had on stage, her hips swaying to a rhythm all their own with each step she took in those sky-high-ass platform booties. Even in the darkened room, I could see how folks stopped talking midsentence as their attention gravitated toward her as if they were magnetized. And I completely understood.

Jucee was a sight to behold. Five feet and seven inches of pure confidence and sex appeal. Her aura commanded the attention of every room she stepped in, and that was before you stepped back to admire the body she was blessed with. And what a body it was. With the kind of curves that required a caution sign and a smile that could make you lose your train of thought.

She reached us and I stared up at her, momentarily lost in the way she beamed, skin shiny and glittery in the afterglow of another successful set. Bending at the waist, she kissed my cheek, and the contact snatched me out of my thoughts.

“Hey, Poppa.”

She turned to give Cody the same treatment, patting his cheek afterward before she turned back to me. Cody’s ass was cheesing hard, and those stars in his eyes flashed brighter. Chuckling, I shook my head and regarded Jucee.

“Whassup, baby girl. You killed it, as usual.”

“Thank you, baby,” she responded in a demure tone that would’ve sounded shockingly genuine to anyone who didn’t know her the way that I did.

Her humility never failed to blow me away, even after three years of knowing her. Although she was the baddest and best dancer at Sanity, she never let it go to her head. Her ego stayed in check and it just made her that much more loveable.

“That song had the whole place in a state of euphoria, Poppa!” she gushed, sliding onto my lap and draping an arm over my shoulder. “I thought an orgy was about to break out, the way everyone’s eyes were glazed over.”

Laughing, I lightly squeezed her waist out of reflex and then moved my hand back to the arm of my chair. It didn’t matter how well we knew each other, the policy at Sanity was that patrons kept their hands to themselves at all times. I might’ve missed the fuck out of her these past few weeks and felt like I needed to touch her, but I respected the rule and I respected Jucee, and because of that respect, I kept it cute.

“Nah, girl,” I deflected, not sure why I suddenly was having trouble adhering to a rule that I’d followed for longer than I’d known my friend. “That look was all you. Everyone was mesmerized by what Jucee was doing up there.”

She grinned and shook her head. In the low light I watched her roll her eyes, her thick lashes fluttering playfully.

“Whatever” was all she said, easing off of me. She knew better than to argue with me about her talent. Of course, I’d seen the crowd appreciate the song, but that euphoria she’d mentioned was absolutely because of her. The song helped, sure, but watching my girl kill it up on that stage was the culprit.

Standing to her feet and towering over both me and my brother in her six-inch heels, Jucee shot me a wink as she turned to head off. I knew the deal; if she wasn’t making money, there was no reason for her to sit still. Before she could walk off, Cody grabbed her hand. I shot him a questioning look but he ignored me, staring up at Jucee pleadingly.

“What’s up, baby boy?” she asked him, amusement clear on her heavily made-up features.

“Can I get a lap dance, please? Just this once? It’s my birthday.”

“It ain’t your damn birthday, fool,” I growled, slapping his hand to make him release her.

Keeping his eyes on Jucee, Cody shot me the bird. “It’ll feel like my birthday if she gives me a dance. Hell, it’ll feel like my birthday, Christmas, and Valentine’s Day all rolled into one.”

Giggling, Jucee turned to me, her eyebrow quirked in question. Immediately, I shook my head.

“Hell naw! It’s thirty other women in here,” I exclaimed, waving a hand around the packed room. “Pick one of them and leave mine alone!”

My little brother shot me a surprised look and then tossed his head back and laughed. “Yours?! You own her now?”

Pursing my lips, I glared at him. He was tryna make it something that it wasn’t. He got that shit from his mama. Hell, and his daddy. I could—and regularly did—acknowledge how damn fine Jucee was, and how big of a heart she had, and how funny she could be, especially when she was fussing because she needed attention, but I needed her in my life like I needed my music, and I would never jeopardize that by going for anything other than what we had. That also meant fielding everybody’s insinuations that we were anything other than friends.

“You know what I mean, fool. My best friend.”

“Yeah. Sure,” he smirked. Giving Jucee wide, puppy-dog eyes, he whimpered. “You gon’ miss out on this $200 because Cyn cockblocking?”

Sucking my teeth, I dug a few bills out of my pocket, folded them, and slipped them into one of the garters strapped around Jucee’s thick-ass thigh over her glittery fishnets. It was possible that my fingers lingered on her for a couple of seconds longer than necessary, but that was just a brain fart—a momentary short in my synapses—nothing more. “There. That’s $400 to ignore this idiot.”

Cody frowned and Jucee cracked up, moving out of the circle of chairs we were in.

“Y’all are too funny.”

I shook my head. “Nah, he funny ’cause he know damn well I don’t play about you. Now, g’on somewhere ’fore I have to knock his head in for trying me.”

Laughing, Jucee shot a wink at Cody and walked off, stopping a few tables down when a group of women wearing bridal veils waved her over. One woman stood to her feet and waved a stack of hundreds as incentive. Once it was clear that she was occupied, I turned to my brother, expecting to find him sulking. To my surprise, he was studying me, a shrewd expression on his face. I frowned.

“You buggin’.”

A wide smile erupted on his face. “Nah, bruh. I’m chillin’.”

His easy demeanor was suspicious as hell. As the baby, Cody was known to hold a grudge and pout when he didn’t get his way. Narrowing my eyes, I stared a hole into his face. Noticing my gape, he cracked up.

“Since you big money tonight, go ahead and order a platter of wings. Ya boy is starvin’ like Marvin.”

“I’m big money? You the one fuckin’ up commas. I’m just tryna get like you, baby bro.” He’d recently secured a position as a senior cloud practitioner at NexTech making six figures, and this stop at Sanity was doing double duty as part of his new-job celebration.

He laughed. “Man, kill all that.”

I joined in on his laughter but went ahead and signaled to one of the servers who was walking by wearing neon-pink fishnets, hot pants with Sanity across the booty, and a low-cut, sleeveless, deep-purple body suit with Sanity across the chest area.

“Hey, Cyn,” she greeted with a smile. “What can I get for you?”

“Let me get a platter of wings.” I turned to my brother. “What flavors?”

“Pshh. Lemon pepper, of course!” Cody gave me a dumb look as if I should’ve already known the answer.

The server, who I recognized as a young woman named Nini, giggled. “One thirty-wing platter, lemon pepper flavor.” She wrote it down on a little notepad that she pulled out of her fanny pack. “You want waffle fries too?”

I nodded. “Yeah, that’ll be dope.”

Nini nodded and tucked her notepad away. “Extra blue cheese, right?”

Grinning, I nodded again. “That’s right. You know me so well, Nini.”

Even in the low lights, I could see a blush rise to Nini’s caramel cheeks as she returned my grin and pushed a lock of her blonde bob behind her ear.

“I just pay attention, is all.”

I shot her a wink. “Well, you do a damn good job of it.”

“Thanks, Cyn.” She beamed, backing away a few steps before spinning on her heel and swishing her hips from left to right as she headed to the kitchen to put in my order.

Lifting my glass of water, I watched her disappear through a set of double doors beside the bar. Nini was a cute lil thing, but she was young as hell. I had no idea her exact age, but if she were born before 2000, I’d be surprised.

“Amazing,” muttered Cody loud enough for me to hear. I glanced his way and saw him shake his head as he sipped from his glass of cranberry juice and lemon-lime soda.

“Who?” I asked incredulously. “Nini?” Don’t get me wrong, Nini was a sight to see, with her wide brown eyes and cherubic smile, but she was so far from Cody’s type that she might as well have been in Austin.

“What’s amazing is that I’m by far the best looking of all of us and yet I gotta sit here and watch stunners—veritable brick houses, tens across the board!—fall over themselves to cater to you. On some Destiny’s Child type of shit.”

I hollered with laughter. “The only thing amazing is that you think you’re the best looking.” Waving a hand in the air as if his wrong opinion was the thick smoke from a hookah, I corrected him. “It’s Caleb, then me, Dougie, and then you.”

He sputtered, spilling a little of his drink, the red liquid dribbling down his chin. “Dougie?! The fucking dog?”

Tears sprang to my eyes at the hilarity in his reaction. That goldendoodle was the love of our parents’ lives. They’d even turned Caleb’s old room into a playroom for him, complete with obstacle course and a miniature dog house that resembled the structure of my childhood home.

“You ain’t shit, bruh,” Cody declared, chuckling as he used a bar napkin to dab at his shirt. “If there is a word to describe how ain’t shit a person is, I bet money your picture is next to it in the dictionary.”

Clutching my stomach, I leaned to the side, wheezing. I fought to catch my breath, ready to hit him with a comeback, when a familiar figure stepped into my peripheral, breaching the circle of chairs and heading my way.

“Cyn Tha Starr,” uttered a silken voice. “It’s an honor for you to grace us with your presence once again.”

Standing to my feet, I slapped the proffered hand of the owner of Sanity, shaking my head as I did so. While the sentiment sounded completely genuine, I still didn’t want to hear that shit.

“C’mon, Mal,” I laughed. “Don’t do that.”

Malinda Maverick snickered and squeezed my shoulder. Dressed in a purple silk shirt that was tucked into pressed pink trousers that had to be custom, Mal was as smooth and stylish as always. Her thick, long hair was brushed into a slick ponytail—made possible by Lord only knew how much EcoStyler gel—at the nape of her neck and then braided into a single plait that draped over her shoulder, the end secured by a couple of thick, pink rubber bands that matched her trousers and dangling just above the pocket on her shirt. The suave look was finished with a single—but not simple—golden rope chain that hung around her neck and deep purple brogues on her feet.

At least ten years older than me, Mal was an inspiration. Not just because of the way she’d built Sanity from nothing into a powerhouse—no, a paragon—in the Houston LGBT scene, but also because of the way she wasn’t afraid to be a woman. She was masculine presenting but never let society tell her what she couldn’t do as a result. She wore acrylics, kept her eyebrows threaded, got regular waxes, and, according to Jucee, wore sexy-ass lace bras with matching panties. I wanted to be like her when I grew up.

Shifting her left foot back a few inches, Mal pursed her lips. “I know you’re not this humble.”

Cody, who had also stood to his feet, snorted. “Not at all. This is a front.”

Rolling my eyes, I laughed. “Ignore him.”

Mal nodded, mirth dancing in her deep brown eyes.

“Your girl did great tonight.”

She was talking about none other than Jucee. My chest swelled with pride as if I had taught my boo that routine myself.

“As always,” I quipped.

“I understand the song she danced to was a new track of yours.”

“Yessir. Just finished it a couple of nights ago. Literally hot off the presses.”

Mal dipped her chin in acknowledgment and held her hand out to shake. “I appreciate you bringing fresh tunes to the club. Your music always gets the crowd hype and they open their wallets in response. As a thank-you, your tab tonight is on me.”

I’d already grabbed her hand and started to shake my head. “You don’t have to do that.”

“I don’t have to do anything but stay Black and die. This is something I want to do, and you oughta know you can’t stop me.”

Defeated, I laughed. “Understood. Thank you.”

Mal released my hand and clapped Cody on the shoulder.

“You two enjoy the rest of your night, and you—” she eyed me pointedly “—keep bringing the heat up in here.”

With a final wink, she nodded at both of us and walked off, two cockdiesel women wearing all black following close behind her. I turned back to my brother to see him giving me a look that said, “I told you so.”

“Destiny’s Child type of shit” was all he said before returning to his seat.

As soon as he sat down, Nini walked up holding a silver platter with a mountain of wings, waffle fries, and several one-ounce cups of blue cheese dressing. She slid everything onto the table and then moved to the side, revealing a server I hadn’t noticed. The second woman placed a basket of cheesy garlic bread next to the wings.

“What’s this?” I asked as my stomach grumbled in anticipation.

Nini smiled. “I know you didn’t ask for it, but I remembered you ordered it a few times so I decided to bring you some. Don’t worry about the cost though. I put this on my tab.”

She fluttered her long lashes at me and swished away. I didn’t even need to look at Cody to know what he was thinking. He started humming the melody of “Cater 2 U,” and all I could do was laugh as I dug into the wings.