Page 38 of Pills and Potions: Kase
Then Vernon jumped in, wheezing. “Man, this nigga out here tryna beDoctorForAintShit.com!Talkin’ ‘bout ‘y’all need to understand and respect these booty-shakin’ queens.’ Like, nigga, DO YOUR MAMA KNOW?!”
The first one, Shay Shay, wiped her face with the dollar and sniffled. “My mamadoknow. She wired me $40 for Uber last week and said, ‘Make it clap, baby. Rent don’t pay itself.’”
The second one, Peaches, popped her gum. “Please. My grandma the one who taught me how to twerk. She used to shake it for Luther at the cabaret.”
Then Diamond leaned in, thick thighs, heavy glitter, and pure attitude. “You gon’ ask about my mama, but you sittin’ here smellin’ like cocoa butter and codependency.”
I frowned. “Damn. That was personal. I was tryna help you.”
She patted my cheek. “Itwas.'Cause if you wanna help, help me with some racks, nigga. I don’t need no healing. Call me a rat, 'cause I like the cheese.”
Then Peaches held my hand, like we were about to pray. “We attract broken men 'cause we natural-born healers and we want that paper.”
Paul wheezed again. “Ain’t no way this man got strippers out here talkin’ like they at a group therapy session!”
“I just feel like y’all deserve better,” I said, committed now. “Like dental plans. And paid time off.”
Peaches tilted her head. “Boy, what is this?The Thong Union?”
Nigga, focus.You sittin’ in a strip club tryna gentrify the game.
But I was too far gone. “I just wanna be a gentleman…”
Nigga, you a dog. Act like it.
Diamond clapped once, loud and sharp, like her glitter echoed. “Sir. This isOnyx,notOprah.”
She strutted off, all hips, sparkle, and shining with judgment, leavin’ me sittin’ there like a spiritual accident.
Jace slid in next to me, tears in his eyes. “Bro… you just got emotionally ghosted bythreestrippers.”
I took the slowest sip of my drink like I was in a Ne-Yo music video.
Then came the final blow.The bouncer walked up, big dude, forehead glistening, lookin’ like security and disappointment wrapped in a tight black tee.
“Yo,” he said, arms crossed. “We gon’ have to ask you and your… uh…healing circleto bounce.”
My eyes got big. “Wait, what? Why?”
He pointed at the girls, deadpan. “Ain’t nobody shook ass in fifteen minutes. One of ‘em was cryin’. The DJ was about toplayBack That Azz Up,and she asked him to switch it to India Arie.”
Paul damn near fell out of his chair. “I TOLD YOU THIS NIGGA WAS TURNIN’ THE CLUB INTO A SAFE SPACE!”
The bouncer kept going. “This Onyx, not a damn TED Talk. You got glitter, tears, and trauma in VIP. Y’all gotta go.”
Before I could accept my walk of shame, I broke free and RAN to the DJ booth like a man on a mission. The music screeched to a stop. I grabbed the mic like someone else had full control over my body. Like my soul got possessed by an overzealous guidance counselor.
“LADIES—before I go…”
The lights dimmed as every stripper turned toward me in slow motion, confused, sparkling like a disco ball, and halfway insulted.
“I just want y’all to know… y’all are more than ass. Y’all areart.Every cheek clap is a revolution. Everybody roll? A protest against patriarchy. You don't just dance, youdefy gravity.Y’all are the Beyoncé of balance, the Serena Williams of seduction, the Oprah Winfrey of upper thigh strength?—”
“GET HIM OFF THE DAMN MIC!!” the DJ shouted.
Security came flyin’ in like they were trained by SWAT.They tackled me mid-sentence, snatched the mic, and dragged me out like I stole chicken wings and body shimmer.Paul was screaming with laughter. Vernon pumped his fist like I just won an NAACP Award. Jace collapsed against the wall like he physically couldn’t take it anymore.As they dragged me out, I was still yellin.
“STRIPPER LIVES MATTER!”
