Dime's Backstory Pt 2

Boss Man, a six foot ten inch pitch black ugah boogah Nigerian, pulled Mama from the stage and looked down on her like a Rottweiler to a poodle. That was Big Yoke. Damn, double Duty.

Anger swelled in me, but Mama wasn't intimidated or scared so in that I unclenched my fists.

"What I told you about being late, Kitty?" he asked sternly, like she was a child that stole cookies after being told no.

Mama looked over at me. My auntie was gone. Where did she go?

"I'm sorry. I don't have anybody to look after...my nephew."

He cut his eyes at me, clad in a thousand dollar suit. "He can't be here."

"I'm his babysitter. Plus I'm your biggest money maker. Surely that come with perks. Some of my girls can watch him till my set is over."

The 80s music was thumping something fierce.

"No."

"Please, dude. Its cold outside. Don't do this. You bring your gahdamn kids here so your stripping, flat booty ass baby mama can strip. And she needs to clean her locker. Smells like old piss."

He softened. "Fine. Stash him in the back."

She kissed his big ugly ass. "You never came home last night."

He grinned. "Well, I was boning your sister's throat. And just so you know. I'm aware that Dime is really your son."

"Does Katt know we're a thing?"

He grinned deceptively. "Yea she do. But she don't care. It ain't like either of us is married."

"Well since you both getting your oral thang on baby, I'm good, sugar bear. Don't want or need you anymore."

"You're jealous?"

"Nawl, you're stank asf. Go shower. I'm ou. My next set coming up after Dawn's."

I looked across the room. I saw my aunt just as Big Yokr told me to come to him. My aunt sat at the very back table in a dark corner.

Before he noticed, I ran over to my aunt and sat next to her on a corroded leather couch. In front of us was a round table holding an ash tray, post card of Jamaica and an empty liquor bottle. I could barely breathe. Stuffy atmosphere smelling of booze, smoke cigarettes and stripper pussy.

Mama was sitting at the bar, giving us an evil stare. Her and my autie had obvious tension. Kitty and Katt.

A beautiful woman strutted onto the stage, took my attention with ease. She was flawless. Oiled tits out, cow girl hat on synthetic weave, tats along her right leg of Egyptian symbols.

The eye of Horus on the back of her neck. The ankh and Nefertiti on her right arm. "Amen" acros her tits. Gangstah bitch on her back. An anaconda tat on her hips with its tongue slithering across the top of her ass crack.

I was hard asa battling ram. I was embarrassed sitting there in a Superman shirt, dirty drawers and three holes in my pants and some cheap shoes my grandma bought me from Grandad's job. The Salvation Army.

"You like that pussy, nephew?" Aunt Katt asked.

I was grinning. "Yes, auntie."

"Dick brick, huh, nephew?"

I didn't quite understand adult lingo, but I didn't know what a dick was from being at my grandparents home when they moved to the Bronx. When they used to send for me during the summer. Assuming I was my auntie's child.

As much as grandma sucked it yes, I knew what it was. As much as Grandpa, an old Vietnam vet with too many metal screws loose to keep his brain and skull, masturbated when he thought I was asleep, I knew what it was.

He used to always tell Grandma how she reminded him of a Vietnamese bitch that sucked him up overseas during the war.

For some reason she took that as a compliment.

Since I never knew my trap king daddy, grandpa, military straight, made me sit on the couch like a good little nigga and was forced to watch grandma polish his family jewels and eat his cakes without syrup. I used to sit there and cry, but he claimed that he was making me a man.

We were surrounded by Mom's baby pictures in gold frames. My auntie's pictures weren't anywhere in their home for some odd reason. And she was older than my mother and graduated college before my mother made it to high school.

Katt was a Parole Officer.

Which made it easy for my auntie to pass me off as her son, so that way my grandparents never found out that my mom was pregnant with me while she lived with them. That's why she hid the pregnancy. To keep a roof over her head at the time.

Now I was sitting with my aunt in the strip club, licking my lips; wondering what getting some brain felt like. I had a brief flashback of grandpa telling grandma's weak ass how smart she was every time she swallowed his nut.

The big booty stripper chick managed to draw a now packed house. Men were filing in like the shit was free. Cameo's "Word Up" was a banger.

Expertly, she hopped off stage and worked the room like a rock star.

There she was on top of a table in front of seven moneyed dudes and made that phat booty pop with her tits out, wiggle, wiggle...dip it low, licked her lips slow.

A chubby white man slipped a fifty into her vaginal lips. In appreciation, she lowered herself onto his lap and dry humped him till his foggy glasses was half on his beet red colored face.

After a moment, she left him coming on himself.

She looked over at us and smiled.