After I finished working the room, I made my way to the dressing room to change my outfit. When I came back out, I scanned the room, but my new girl toy was gone. As I walked toward the VIP room to see what was going down in there, this dude grabbed me by the arm. “Say, Miss Kitty, what’s up? You looked real good out there,” he confirmed.

“I’m glad you enjoyed the show,” I said as I tried to move on. He tugged my arm again, pulling me back closer to his body. Liquor reeked from his pores.

“What’s up? You get down like the others?”

“Yeah, for five hundred dollars,” I said without blinking. That was my standard answer anytime somebody came at me like that. Once niggas heard that, they usually went on about their business with their heads hangin’ low. I was there for the money, not to give up any parts of this pussy.

“Whaat? Five hundred dollars? Bitch, is you crazy? Baby, I can get some ass for a hundred and a half up in this bitch,” he yelled.

I sucked my teeth. “One fifty?” I ran my hand along the length of my body. “What about this body says I’d even consider giving up any of this for a measly, hundred and fifty dollars?” I asked with all seriousness.

“Damn, baby, that’s a grip though. You want too much.”

“Nigga, please. Obviously your paper ain’t heavy enough, so you need to move on to one of these average bitches around here.” Before he could tug me again, I snatched my arm from him and stormed into the VIP room.

When the club was getting ready to close, I walked into the dressing room and everyone was giggling and acting like they’d gone in on a winning lottery ticket.

“What’s up?” I asked one of the few somber-looking dancers in the room.

She turned to look at the group that was celebrating, and then turned to me. “What’s up, Jada? They all excited and shit ’cause Bruce Bruce just came in and picked girls for Sunday night’s big private party,” she snarled. “I’m really surprised that Bruce Bruce didn’t pick you.”