Page 6 of Cannon
I threw Bebe to the ground in front of all the dancers. Her wig slid off when I let go.
“Let me make something real fuckin’ clear. If I catchanyof y’all selling pussy in my club, you’re out. I don’t care who it is. I don’t give a fuck if Barack Obama wants you to ride him! You don’t do it in my club!”
Bebe began to speak, “Queen, please… I wasn’t even?—”
I waved her off. “I caught you fuckin’ him. Don’t try to lie.”
“I’m sorry…” she whimpered. The other girls looked over at her stunned but some were disgusted. I ran a classy establishment here and I didn’t want men coming here thinking that they could pay for pussy. The men tipped well here, so there was no excuse.
I was already on edge from my meeting with Smoke and I wasn’t in the mood for any more bullshit.
“If y’all wanna be whores, you need to go over to Queens and dance at Coochies. Otherwise, rake up your money, be smart about it and get out of this industry before you age out. As for you,” I directed my attention to Bebe, “you are fired. Get your shit and get out of my club.”
She folded. “Please. I need this job…”
“Then you should’ve thought about that before you tried to turnmyclub into a brothel.”
I stepped closer, low and lethal.
“You think I bust my ass to save this club, just to end up shut down by some undercover cop or a Yelp review talkin’ bout ‘full service’ in the back? When you sell pussy you put the other girls at risk for being assaulted!”
She shook her head. Tears now. “I’m sorry.”
I looked around at the others. Some standing still in thongs and nipple pasties, elaborate makeup, watching like churchgoers in the front pew.
“Sylk Road pulls men with money.Realmoney. You wanna sell coochie? That’s your choice. But you won’t do it inmyhouse.”
Even though strip clubs had a reputation for being shady, I tried to run a clean establishment. And I considered myself helping beautiful women by creating a safe environment where they could dance and make more money than the average woman. The money wasn’t long money. You could burn out of this lifestyle fast, but it could set you up real nicely if you played your part right. I tried to make sure I only appealed to men with real money and therefore I had to make sure it stayed free of prostitution.
I turned to Bebe and spoke, “Take your Dollar Tree lashes and your Motel 6 hustle and get out now.”
I stormed back into my office, heels pounding like gunshots. The second the door clicked shut behind me, I ripped thosestilettos off and threw them across the room. One hit the wall. The other bounced off a chair.
I sank into my seat, rubbed at my temples with both hands. My heart was still racing, chest tight like somebody was sitting on it. Smoke. Nero. Bebe. All them mothafuckas picking at my peace like vultures circling my sanity.
I leaned back in my chair and stared at the monitors on the wall. My girls on stage. My bartenders pouring drinks.
This was my empire. Built it from nothing. Fought tooth and nail for every inch. But tonight… it felt shaky. Like I was holding up a house of cards with bruised knuckles and a prayer.
The door opened before I could call him. Darius stuck his goofy-ass head in like he knew what time it was.
“Queen, I?—”
“Shut the door.”
He did, slow as hell.
I didn’t look at him right away. Just watched the monitors, let the silence stretch. Let it hang heavy. Let him sweat.
Then I turned.
“You’re fired.”
He blinked. “What?”
“You heard me. Turn in your earpiece and your key.
“Come on, Queen…”
