introduced themselves to me, saying happy birthday, and they were looking forward to seeing me fight soon.
And of course, they were Black. Most of the business owners in this college town were Black, but not “poor” Black that I’d been used to back in Jersey. These people were with class, but still…cool. The place seemed stylish with leather cushioned chairs and fancy glasses. Mine was filled with ginger ale because the manager made it clear I couldn’t be served alcohol. So I watched the guys—except for Paulie next to me—gulp down drink after drink.
The lighting switched and music changed. 50 Cent’s “In Da Club” started, and my body tensed to a rock. I knew it. Although I’d slipped into a headspace of comfort because I’d been able to be invisible up until now, I knew at some point of the night they’d turn the spotlight on me. I understood this was an assignment for embarrassment, not comradery.
So as the girls left the stage and made their way to us, the Panthers all stood dancing. They shuffled around me. For a moment, all I could see were Panthers in a complete circle. Dre handed me a shot and leaned into me.
“Hurry up,” he ordered quickly.
At first, I stared at the small glass with clear liquid. They cheered me on, loud like locker room ruckus. When I found Ashton calm with a smirk, and he nodded, I decided to go for it. I closed my eyes, bracing against the burn. When they opened, I noticed the guys shuffling behind me where I couldn’t see them. My eyes went wild as I watched them all leaving my peripheral, praying they wouldn’t lay a finger on me. Jokes I could do, but physical force I couldn’t. God, I didn’t want to have a meltdown in this place, around these strange humans, but I would if they took things too far!
My palms balled into tight fists and my bare knees pushed into each other with painful force as I braced myself. The guys crowded behind my chair and the group of mostly topless girls in thongs formed a line in front of me. The first in line was sensual, swaying her hips and arms to the beat. Behind me, the guys rained dollar bills they were given when exchanging larger bills coming in. She turned around and dropped it low before moving aside for the next. That girl, too, touched herself, opening her legs with a rhythmic twerk. She sashayed before taking off, making room for the third girl.
Well, the line went on and on, some dancers giving me a “show” then taking off. Others touched me, giving me a lap dance. Most of them were sweet, wishing me a happy birthday. Dancer by dancer, I found myself relaxing—until one danced on me. Those weren’t easy to get through, considering my issues with being touched. And then having to smell a musk that took me a few lap dances to realize was vaginal scents. None were terribly bad, just personal. Intimate in a way I didn’t want to participate in. But I was a trooper and didn’t react in a way that embarrassed myself or the Panthers.
The guys’ cheers grew louder and more suspicious when the last girl was up. The music changed, tempo slowed. A bundle of singles was placed on my shoulders as I eyed her warily. There were lips at my ear. The scent of a familiar cologne mixed with heat tickled my senses.
“This is one you should tip, too, Nabby-girl.” His voice was thick in a way I understood him.
Ashton was turned on by this. These girls dancing, even on or for me, he enjoyed it. I bet they all did.
Guys are such weird humans...
But I’d get through this. It was almost done, and soon enough my ride would be here. I took the money and noticed how Ashton left his hand on my shoulder. I didn’t know what to make of it and decided to ignore it and him. An old school song I heard a lot coming up in my Margaret’s house played. I didn’t know the name of it, but the woman sang, “Fool’s paradise,” a lot.
This girl’s techniques were less rushed and more skilled. Her arches were deep and kicks steady. And she stared me directly in the eye, wanting to be watched. It was almost as if she expected my reaction. And she touched me. The woman used her palm softly to run down the sides