Читать книгу Caught Up - Shannon Holmes - Страница 6

Chapter Two

Three months later

“Eight hundred bucks, take it or leave it, miss, but that’s my final offer,” the pawn shop owner said.

“But you told me on the phone you would give me fifteen hundred!” Dixyn fired back.

“Listen, I know what I said. But—and this is a big but—that was before I saw the merchandise. I thought it was one thing; it turned out to be another. You can never be too sure about these things, especially jewelry, until you see it,” he calmly replied. “Now, as I said before, it’s eight hundred. Take it or leave it.”

A lot had changed in Dixyn’s life since Bryce was arrested, though she felt lucky not to have been locked up along with him. Financially, things were going from bad to worse. Bryce’s impending federal trial had already exhausted any money he had stashed on the streets. Dixyn’s car had been repossessed by the dealer; the Range Rover would be taken too as soon as the repo caught up with her. The town house was in foreclosure. It seemed like every day the bills continued to mount. Her money woes were so troubling that Dixyn felt like she was losing her sanity.

She nervously fiddled with the engagement ring that her fiancé had given her. It was more than just a ring to her. There was no dollar amount that she could place on it. Yet on the other hand, it was one of the few remaining items of value that she had left. Dixyn was torn by her need to sell the ring in order to stay above water, and the romantic notion of keeping it and suffering in silence.

“I don’t have all day, miss. What are we going to do here?” the pawn shop owner asked, interrupting her thoughts.

“Okay, I’ll take it,” Dixyn said regretfully, handing over her engagement ring.

Secretly, the man smiled. He knew he had gotten over big time on Dixyn. The resale value on that ring was a whole lot more than the measly sum he was paying out to her, but he didn’t feel one ounce of remorse. He wasn’t in the caring business, he was in the business of making money: buy low and sell high. It was business, never personal.

“Gimme a minute. I have to write up a ticket and give you a receipt. The terms and conditions, as far as payments go, will be on the back. I suggest you read them carefully. I’ll be right back with your cash.”

Given the depth of Dixyn’s financial woes, this money wouldn’t go far in helping her get back on her feet. As far as she was concerned, the money was already spent. Dixyn planned on using the cash to take care of some of her basic necessities, like turning her electricity back on, and whatever remained she would use to buy gas and go grocery shopping.

Cash in hand, Dixyn exited the pawn shop, even more stressed out than when she had entered. She agonized for days over this. The engagement ring was the last piece of Bryce she had. Now it was gone. Dixyn knew she wouldn’t dare bring herself to tell him what she had done. She was too ashamed. As she drove away, her mind ran wild with all kinds of thoughts about Bryce and her financial future.

But Dixyn was in self-preservation mode right now. While Bryce had his legal matters to deal with, she had her own day-to-day, real-life issues to address, like taking care of her daughter and keeping a roof over their heads. With her breadwinner gone, suddenly she had a different set of priorities, like surviving. Dixyn stared into the abyss of an uncertain future. With no education other than a high school diploma, her sources of income were limited at best. Dixyn knew some tough times lay ahead if she didn’t do something, and fast.

Immediately after Bryce’s arrest, his brother B-Dub called Dixyn up and said he was going to hold her down financially. But as of yet, that hadn’t materialized. Dixyn had never even him before and hadn’t heard a word from him since. Even Kendra had warned her about this mythical dark knight who was supposed to ride into town and save the day.

“Bitch, you better stop waiting on some nigga you don’t know to help you. You better get up, get out, and get something on your own. A nigga got you into this predicament in the first place. D, save ya’self. You are the solution to all your problems. You wait on that nigga if you want. Just don’t hold your breath. I been tryin’ to tell you how to get this money, but your uppity ass won’t listen to me.”

Dixyn had to admit that Kendra had some valid points. Kendra was a hustler; she and Dixyn weren’t of the same ilk. Kendra was a go-getter while Dixyn was used to having everything handed to her. As long as she’d known Kendra, she always had her own shit. Fuck niggas, get money was Kendra’s mantra. Unfortunately for her, it was an attitude that got her in trouble from time to time. And now, with Bryce gone, Kendra was beginning to heavily influence Dixyn.

After running some errands and paying the electric company, Dixyn returned home to find the lights back on. As she put away her groceries, Dixyn briefly contemplated bringing her daughter back home. She felt like she couldn’t take another day alone in the quiet house. Dixyn’s mother had been watching the child on the night of her birthday—the morning after her home had been raided, she had asked her mother to keep the child while she dealt with the mess. But the months were passing.

Dixyn pushed the thought of reuniting with her child out of her mind. In this state, she would be unable to properly care for her daughter. Besides that, with no cable TV, no access to the Cartoon Network or Nickelodeon, Dixyn would be hard-pressed to entertain her. Cable TV and the Internet used to be necessities, but they had suddenly turned into luxuries that she couldn’t afford. Now Kendra crossed her mind again, so she picked up her cell phone.

“Well, it’s about fuckin’ time! You were supposed to have been called me back, bitch!” Kendra snapped on the other end of the line. “What’s poppin’? Where you been?”

“Pawn shop,” Dixyn mumbled.

“Bitch, speak up! I ain’t understand a word you said.”

“I said I was at the pawn shop,” Dixyn repeated as her eyes began to water.

“Doin’ what?”

“Kendra, don’t play dumb. I finally did what I told you I was thinkin’ about doin’.” Dixyn shook her head, reliving the painful memory.

“Oooooohhhhh! How much you get?

“Eight hundred,” Dixyn spat.

“Daaaaammmmmnnnn! That’s all?”

“Yup.”

“You lyin’!”

“Kendra, why would I lie? That’s all I got.”

“Girlfriend, you got more than eight hundred funky-ass dollars,” Kendra said. “You also got played. Ain’t no fuckin’ way in the world you let them muthafuckas at the pawn shop lowball you like that. You should have known better than to go for that.”

One thing Dixyn didn’t like about Kendra was that she was sometimes quick to criticize and she didn’t always take time to listen, let alone sympathize. But regardless, like it or not, Kendra kept it real. Dixyn could have called someone else to hear what she wanted to hear, but Kendra always said what she thought.

Dixyn snapped, “Well maybe if you would have come like you said you would, then it wouldn’t have gone down like that. Shit, what the fuck I know about pawning something?”

“Bitch, don’t be mad at me ’cause I ain’t go! I got problems of my own. I can’t be holdin’ ya hand every minute of the day. Every goddamn day I let you cry on my shoulder. Ain’t that enough? Anyway, what else did you take up there? I know Bryce had a lot of other shit worth something.”

“No, he didn’t. I thought I told you that already. When they raided the house, the feds grabbed all of Bryce’s jewelry and about seventy thousand in cash that he had stashed.”

Kendra let loose a whistle into the phone. “That’s a lot of racks.”

“Tell me about it!” Dixyn cracked. “A bitch like me could use some of that money right now. Did I tell you that the bank is foreclosing on the town house? I got the car dealer calling me every other day, saying that if I don’t turn in the Range, the delinquent payments will negatively affect my credit . . .”

Dixyn launched into the host of financial troubles she was currently experiencing. She had never confided in Kendra as much as she did now. But she needed a confidante, and Kendra was there.

Kendra sat on the other in of the phone halfheartedly listening while watching a repeat episode of Love & Hip Hop. She had heard this sad song before. Quite frankly, Dixyn was beginning to sound like a broken record. Kendra knew exactly how to help Dixyn out of her predicament, but her friend was either too stubborn or too scared to take her up on the offer.

After about an hour of venting to Kendra, a realization set in for Dixyn. She had two choices: she could either keep crying and complaining, or she could do something. “Kendra, what’s up with the club?” she suddenly asked. “I’m about ready to take you up on that offer.”

“What?” Kendra called out. “You kiddin’ me, right?”

“Nope.”

“Dead ass?” Kendra asked.

“Yup. Whatever that means.”

“I’m on my way over there right now,” Kendra announced. “Bitch, we needs to talk. Shit just got real.”

* * *

An hour later, Kendra pulled her red Mercedes Benz C-Class coupe into the driveway and honked the horn. Dixyn hurried to the window, peeking through the blinds before opening the door. Dixyn was glad she had showed up this time.

“Kendra!” Dixyn greeted happily, hugging her friend.

As Kendra sashayed inside the house, Dixyn couldn’t help but notice how her butt bulged out of her low-rise True Religion jeans. “Damn, Kendra, is it me or is your ass getting bigger?”

“Anal sex,” Kendra replied bluntly, playfully smacking her behind.

“What?”

“Anal sex,” Kendra repeated. “It makes ya ass fatter. I been fuckin’ wit’ dis dude and that’s all he likes to do.”

“Better hope that nigga ain’t gay.”

“With a dick that big, it would be a shame. Besides, don’t knock it till you try it,” she joked.

“I hear that.”

With Kendra leading the way, the duo walked through the house until they reached the kitchen. Kendra made herself at home, taking a seat at the kitchen table. “I bought you somethin’,” she said as she rummaged around in her purse. “If I could only find it now. Damn, there it is.”

Kendra removed a plastic bag of kush, a high-grade form of marijuana, and handed it to Dixyn, who put the weed to her nose and inhaled its aroma. The smile that adorned her face signaled her approval.

“Here, bitch,” Kendra added, tossing her a blunt wrap from her bag. “You can’t do nuttin’ without this.”

Dixyn caught the blunt wrap and busied herself rolling up the kush. Moments later, she was hungrily licking the blunt to seal it. She inhaled deeply while igniting the flame, then exhaled through her nose, releasing a huge cloud of smoke.

Meanwhile, Kendra calmly removed a dollar bill from her purse and unfolded it, exposing the white powdery substance. She carefully dug her pinky nail into the mound of cocaine and shoveled hit after hit into her nostrils, then looked up to find Dixyn staring at her in amazement.

“What, bitch? You act like you ain’t never seen nobody sniff coke.”

“Ah . . .” Dixyn began to say. “Nothing.” She was surprised by Kendra’s drug of choice. But she was even more surprised by her friend’s lack of discretion. It was as if this was normal everyday shit for her.

“Anyway,” Kendra said as she put away her drug, “this stripping shit is easy. All you gotta do is shake ya ass for some thirsty-ass niggas and you can get your money. Easy.”

“Damn, Kendra, you make it sound so simple,” Dixyn replied between tokes on her blunt.

“Because it is. This shit ain’t rocket science. You don’t need a degree in physics or even a GED. Bum bitches do it, old bitches do it, and ugly bitches do it. But only bad bitches like me and you get top dollar. Them other hos have to fight for the scraps.”

For an hour, Kendra went on to break down the ins and outs of the strip game, making it sound easy, while Dixyn expressed her concerns and reservations. When enough drugs were consumed by both women, they had convinced each other that what Kendra was saying was the truth. Dixyn was completely sold on the idea of making fast cash. The notion of finding some financial stability seemed to have won her over.

Persuaded that Dixyn was actually down to strip, Kendra took her to a local sex shop and bought her a few outfits for the club. She told Dixyn that she would speak to the club owner, Notti, to make sure that everything was a go.

As they drove back home, the duo made small talk before Kendra issued a stern warning.

“Yo, Dixyn, lemme warn you about one thing. Don’t fuck with none of them bitches at the club. They ain’t your friend. I am, and them bitches is no good. Again, I strongly advise you not to fuck with them. And most of all, don’t tell those bitches ya business. If you tell them bitches ya business, you won’t have no business. Feel me?”

“I feel you,” Dixyn replied faintly.

Kendra didn’t elaborate, nor did Dixyn question her about this. One thing was for sure—even if Dixyn wasn’t feeling this situation, she was in it now.